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“I doubt,” Eicroth said, “that many people will want to get that close.”

The Yuuzhan Vong had been draped with a poncho after medics confirmed she was female. Tufts of black hair grew here and there on her skull, and half her body was tattooed with concentric designs like the ones on her forehead. Eicroth pointed out a focal point that looked vaguely like a living creature. Claws protruded from her knuckles. The exobiologist had anchored restraint bands over her forearms and across her legs and torso.

Cilghal stood with Mara. She’d examined Mara’s hand, taking skin and blood samples for the other medics. Then she tried to revive the Yuuzhan Vong. Neither inhalants nor mild shocks worked. By invitation, she, too, lingered.

Belindi Kalenda of NRI—recently demoted to Lieutenant Colonel, over the misinformation flap—strode into the room, and Eicroth straightened. Lieutenant Colonel Kalenda was small and dark-skinned, and she wore her tightly curled hair in a bunch at the nape of her neck.

She got a good look and frowned. “I’m impressed,” she said. Tricked by the alleged Yuuzhan Vong defector, then again by their feint at Corellia, at least Kalenda hadn’t been drummed out of the service. “I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to get one of these alive.” She shot one more glance at Dr. Eicroth. “You’re recording? We can’t waste this.”

“If we get anything,” Mara said. She’d faced enough of these aliens to expect a fresh surprise every time.

Above the table hung a full-body scanner. This time, there’d be body-fluid analyses, readings of organ functions, maybe even a map of the body’s microelectric fields. A chem readout might hint at what drugs could affect them. Personally, Mara would appreciate information on their nervous systems—especially what might bring them down, besides whacking their temples.

She stared at the alien warrior, half wishing they might’ve spoken woman to woman, instead of as predator and prey, captor and prisoner. Mara knew what it felt like to slowly realize she’d been raised by the wrong side.

The Yuuzhan Vong warrior stirred. Mara stepped closer. Kalenda eyed the overhead readouts.

The warrior’s eyes opened. She recoiled from the machinery above her, working her face violently.

Mara stretched out a hand. “We don’t want to harm you,” she insisted. “I know you know Basic. I saw you at work in the Leafy Green. Let us help you. We’ll send you back to your people, if—”

The prisoner interrupted, shrieking out a long, unintelligible speech, maybe to her gods. As she did, her body arched, fighting the bonds. Dr. Eicroth edged back. Anakin stepped closer, one hand on his lightsaber.

From the warrior’s right hand, a claw stretched to four times its sessile length. It slashed the steelfab forearm bond as if it were flimsiplast. Then with one arm freed, the warrior balled a fist.

Anakin ignited his blade with a snap-hiss.

“No!” Mara shouted.

Without hesitating, the warrior slashed her claw across her own throat. Black blood spurted. Cilghal sprang forward, pressing a wad of synthflesh to the wound with one broad, webbed hand while reaching aside for fluid packs. Another aide restrained the prisoner’s free hand. A surgical droid that Cilghal had parked out of the prisoner’s sight rolled close and went to work.

Mara exhaled, hoping the readouts would provide some usable information. She’d gotten a bit of data herself—even more respect for those fighting claws. She would make sure that information went out in Dr. Eicroth’s report.

An hour later, as midnight passed, she sat at a light table rerunning that report and Cilghal’s medical scans. The prisoner had managed to bleed to death, and Mara sent Anakin home in his skimmer. Luke stood at her shoulder, tracing with one finger the lines of multiple skull breaks. Mara watched him sidelong, trying to read his reaction. His face had been savaged years ago by a wampa ice creature. Would these people accept bacta treatment, since the only technology it required was a tank to contain the organisms?

Probably not. They wore their scars proudly.