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“I relayed as much to Malik Carr,” Borga said pensively, “and it now appears that Choka has taken the bait. But I begin to wonder who is using whom. If Choka is keen on using us to send a false message to the New Republic, he does so by deliberately putting our spice ships at risk at Bothawui. And if that is indeed the case, he is obviously prepared for the eventuality that we will declare war.”

“You see,” Pazda said, “there is no middle ground.”

Borga turned to the ample Crev Bombaasa. “Triple our usual spice shipments to the Bothan worlds. Let’s be certain we send a clear message to the New Republic that Corellia is the target.”

Bombaasa nodded dubiously. “What about your promise to Choka about sharing information?”

“A promise is like a shipment of spice jettisoned in deep space,” Gardulla the Younger sniped. “It weighs nothing.”

“That may be so,” Crev said, “but if our treachery is discovered, Nal Hutta itself will be imperiled—not to mention Randa.”

“We risk something greater by partnering with the invaders,” Pazda argued.

Everyone waited for Borga’s response.

“Crev is correct,” she said at last. “If we’re to help thwart the Yuuzhan Vong, we must be circumspect. When drawing the Sarlacc from its hole, a wise Hutt uses another’s hand.” She turned to Leenik. “You have a better grasp of Yuuzhan Vong than I. What instructions did Choka give to the commander of the Crèche?”

The Rodian bowed. “Choka said that he was dispatching a ship to rendezvous with the Crèche at Kalarba.”

Borga looked at Crev Bombaasa. “Contact your friend Talon Karrde. Perhaps the Jedi will be interested in learning the whereabouts of one of their missing Knights.”

“I had to see for myself,” Randa Besadii Diori said, using his mighty tail to move himself to the edge of the inhibition field two dovin basals had fashioned aboard the Crèche. “Ah, but of course, there’s no way to identify a Jedi by appearance alone. Consider Luke Skywalker, for example. Looking at him, who would guess he possesses the power he does?”

Under the vigilant gaze of several Yuuzhan Vong guards, Randa sidled closer still, until he was practically belly to nose with the battered human imprisoned within the force field.

“I saw Skywalker once, long ago, perhaps as far back as thirteen of your years, during that sorry business involving Durga and his so-called Darksaber Project. Not that I had anything to do with Durga. I just happened to be visiting the Mulako Corporation Quarry when Skywalker—traveling incognito—showed up in the company of a slender, short-haired human female who seemed to be his paramour. Whatever became of that one, hmmm?”

The prisoner expelled a laugh through his broken nose. “I hear Mara Jade arranged for her permanent disappearance.”

Randa planted his hands on his belly and guffawed. “So are you in fact who Chine-kal says you are—or, should I say, his war coordinator says you are?”

Wurth Skidder’s split upper lip curled. “What do you want, Randa? Or have you just come here to gloat?”

“Gloat? Surely not, Jedi. Rather I’ve come to offer my sympathies. Not only for what Chine-kal has planned for you, but for what the Yuuzhan Vong have planned for the New Republic.”

“I suppose we should all follow your parent’s lead and roll over, is that the idea?”

Randa feigned weariness. “We all serve someone, Jedi—even you. What’s more, you misunderstand us. Though we command a significant volume of galactic space—as is only appropriate for beings of such size and longevity—we have never been empire builders. You insist on thinking of us as warlike, when in fact we share much with the reclusive Hapans.”

“Correction, Randa. The Hapans aren’t outlaws. They’re not interested in smuggling spice or organizing criminal activities wherever they set foot—or tail.”

Randa responded with elaborate chagrin. “Is this the voice of the moral minority I hear? Such vehemence makes me wonder if you aren’t one of those Jedi allied with Kyp Durron, who seems to be on a personal crusade to