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“You repeat my thoughts. I will time the outbreak to honor your approach.”

Tsavong clicked his finger claws against each other. Riots would create new martyrs for Nom Anor’s latest imitation religion, sending the gods another round of sacrifices. No wonder Yun-Harla, the Trickster goddess, favored Nom Anor. Even mighty Yun-Yammka sometimes bowed to her pranks.

“Are your agents prepared to deal with the planetary shields?”

“Whenever you order it.”

Yes, maybe this interruption was worthwhile after all. “And the young Hutt?” the warmaster demanded. “Have you disciplined him?”

“Again, I await your order.”

“Again, do not insult the Great Ones by offering him. Hutts are beasts and gluttons. Save him for the nutrient staff. Our new slaves will commemorate our arrival with a rich feast.”

Anor’s villip head inclined.

“You promised the Duros we will leave them their abominable habitats, if they lay down their weapons?”

“As ordered.”

Tsavong Lah smiled slowly. Nom Anor’s promises weren’t worth the breath that delivered them.

Yun-Harla surely loved that.

Creeping forward over gouged stone, Mara breathed shallowly through her borrowed mask. The Force bubble overhead lost precious millimeters with each group of stones she conveyed over the top. She felt Luke’s distant touch again, and a pulse of strength with it. Thanks, Skywalker, she shot back at him, feeling a little limp. There was a time for gratitude.

She did wish she’d gone for Nom Anor, though.

Sure. Then we’d all three be dead. But if he’d caused her disease, though, maybe he would know how to make sure she was cured. She’d like to figure out how to get that information from him. Preferably just before she showed him what justice meant.

Jaina’s body felt warm alongside her own. So did Jaina’s anger.

“Don’t worry,” Mara muttered through her rebreather. “I’ll get him. Just not this trip.”

“By the time we get out,” Jaina muttered back, “he’ll be five worlds away.”

“Explains plenty, though.” Another dozen rocks clicked down into place behind them, and Mara slithered forward a centimeter. When she raised her head, even slightly, she bumped rock. “About Rhommamool.”

“Finally,” Jaina agreed. “He’s just been stirring up trouble, not caring who gets killed.”

“Distracting us all from their real invasion vector.”

It was better to keep talking than think about the slowly flattening bubble. She hated to admit it, but Luke might have called this one right when she assured him she didn’t need help. If they ran out of space, she would have Jaina slip into a hibernation trance, and then she’d call Luke—and hope he could get here before her air ran out, because she couldn’t do hibernation herself, not if she hoped to keep the unknown weight of rock from smashing them. She had to stay conscious.

“And the droid burnings,” Mara said. “Remember that?”

“D’you think that flask really was …”

Mara had given that more thought. “No.” He hadn’t known she was coming. “But I’m sure he has more of the stuff.” Coomb spores, whatever that meant.

“You don’t think he was lying, then?”

“Not this time,” Mara muttered. She had felt the weird weakness again, in his presence—faint, but strong enough to confirm his claim.

“Hey, I caught a whiff of good air.” Jaina’s voice came through clearly. She must have pulled off the breath mask.

Mara kept her own mask on. Another group of rocks lifted. She caught a glimmer of light through the space beyond them. “Almost,” she grunted.

It was hard to keep stones moving slowly, now. The mental image of dying within half a meter of freedom kept her focused. Moving the last stones took over an hour.

“Okay,” she said at last. “Roll forward. I want you right up here.” She pushed Jaina against the bubble’s fore edge. She gathered her legs and arms underneath her, knees and elbows bent, and took a deep gulp of the strength flowing in from the distance. Ready, Luke? She formed the words in her mind, wryly recognizing a secret double meaning. Push!

“Now!” She shoved Jaina clear.