Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 08_ Edge of Victory 01_ Conquest - J. Gregory Keyes [75]
“But he commanded you and you didn’t?”
“He knows if he commands me, I will make him kill me. So he didn’t command me. He wants me to come to him.” She stopped and dropped her eyeridges angrily. “And this is not your business. Never forget—what I am to them, you are to me. One day Yun-Shuno will grant me redemption, and my body will take the scars and implants. I will become true caste, while you will forever be nothing.”
“Do you really believe that?” Anakin asked. “I don’t think you do.”
She slapped him then, hard. When he did not react to the pain, she nodded thoughtfully. “Stronger than I thought. Maybe we can meet my quota,” she said. “If you help me do it, I will find some reward for you.”
“I would do it for no other reason than to disappoint Vasi,” Anakin replied. “Though I may feel differently if you keep slapping me.”
“You say filthy things, and don’t expect to be punished?”
“I didn’t know it was filthy.”
“I have heard you slaves are infidels, but even infidels must know the gods and their truths.”
“I would think that not knowing that is exactly what makes me an infidel,” Anakin said.
“I suppose. It makes no sense, and I’ve never spoken to an infidel before, not like this.” She hesitated. “It is … interesting. Perhaps as we work, we can pass the time. You can tell me of your planet. But restrain yourself—Shamed I may be, but I have not abandoned myself to shame.”
“It’s a deal,” Anakin said. “Will you tell me your name?”
“My name is Uunu.” She pointed ahead, to a low coral wall. “We’re nearly to the lambent field now. They are just past there.”
“What is a lambent?”
“Another moment, and you shall see. Or, rather, you shall hear them.”
“Hear?”
But suddenly he did, a faint, buzzing rattle, like the voices of small animals.
And yet this didn’t come from the Force, not exactly. It didn’t have the familiar touch, the depth. It was more like having a staticky comlink in his head.
They rounded the wall. Beyond was a field tilled into concentric circular ridges. On them, spaced perhaps a meter apart, grew plants that resembled a nest of short, thick, green knives. From the central clump two, three, or four short stalks grew, and at the end of each of these was a sort of hairy, bloodred bloom. The blooms were roughly the size of his fist, and it was from these that the telepathic murmur seemed to come.
“What are they?”
“Start working now. I’ll explain what they are later, if it looks as if we are approaching our quota.”
“What do I do?”
“You will follow me. I will stroke the down from the blossoms—like so.” Almost tenderly she rubbed away the red, hairlike petals until all that remained was a yellowish bulb. “This attunes it. Once that is done, you must harvest it. That is more difficult. Hold still, please.” She withdrew something curved and black from a pouch in her garment.
“Place it on your thumb.”
He looked at it. It resembled a spur, about eight centimeters long. It looked very sharp. It was hollow, and when he slipped his thumb into the hollow he winced as what felt like many small teeth bit into him.
“It’s alive,” he muttered.
“Of course it is. Who would use a dead—” Then her eyes narrowed. “I told you not to talk like that, didn’t I?”
“I didn’t say anything wrong,” Anakin objected.
“No. You just implied it and let my mind do the dirty work. Stop that.”
Anakin held up his newly spurred thumb and looked at it.
“Don’t get airs,” she said. “It’s not a real implant. Even I can wear one for a little while before the reaction sets in. It’s not permanent. And in case you’re getting any unslavelike ideas …” She took his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip and jabbed her palm at the sharp tip of the spur.
It immediately went flaccid.
“You might cut another slave with it,” she said softly. “I’ve heard of such things, done for the amusement of the guards. But you will not cut a Yuuzhan Vong with such a tool.”
“I would have taken