Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 11_ Dark Journey - Elaine Cunningham [27]
The warrior’s scarred face darkened with wrath. He rose slowly, ominously, to tower over the slender priest.
“Oh, sit down!” Harrar said irritably. “I was advising you to learn discretion, not admitting to treachery!”
Khalee Lah looked uncertain. “Your devotion to the warmaster?”
“Unchanged since our shared youth,” he responded.
“You evoked the gods in order to extract military information!”
“I am a priest of Yun-Harla,” Harrar said with exaggerated precision. “My words were shaped to suit a desired end. That is what we do. Put your mind at ease, and pray attempt to develop some subtlety.”
The warrior inclined his head respectfully, then turned toward the viewport and things more closely aligned with his understanding. Together they watched the approach of the strange ship.
Harrar observed the infidel vessel with a mixture of fascination and revulsion. Although obviously mechanical, it was built to resemble a gigantic insect. Thin metallic wings angled up from a curved, segmented body. Two pairs of limbs coiled at either side of the body like reverse-articulated legs. The rounded cockpit resembled a head, and when viewed from the side, the glossy black viewport looked like an insect’s huge multiple eyes.
“I underestimated these infidels. Who would have thought them capable of such blatant insult to the gods?” Khalee Lah muttered. He lifted his voice to the priest’s guards. “Secure the infidel ship and bring all those aboard to me.”
A green-and-yellow-tattooed female came at his call. Like Khalee Lah, she was sheathed in living armor. Hers was a mottled green, a good match for one of the verdant worlds so plentiful in this galaxy. One day Harrar hoped to claim such a world as his own, and the armor for his personal guard was shaped with scouting in mind. Now that he knew his travels were tracked and reported, however, he would have to exercise more discretion.
Harrar’s attention snapped back to the two creatures who trailed the guard. His lip curled. These were two of the most disreputable excuses for human males Harrar had yet encountered.
Both were tall and might once have been considered well formed. One had grown too thin for health, and his prominent nose was framed by fever-bright black eyes. A persistent tic of one eye and a nervous twitching of that prodigious snout lent him a remarkable similarity to a hairless rodent. The other man had an abundance of bright reddish hair that rioted in a curly mass down to his shoulders and sprouted in an equally undisciplined fashion from his cheeks and chin. His lack of discipline knew no bounds: his massive arms had gone soft, and a slack roll of belly hung over his weapons belt.
Khalee Lah made no effort to hide his disdain. “Name yourselves.”
Both men performed jerky, graceless bows. “Benwick Chell,” the hairy one announced. “My copilot, Vonce.”
“You are members of the Peace Brigade?”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
The humans blinked in unison and exchanged wary glances. “Why?” the one called Benwick echoed.
“The question is simple enough,” Khalee Lah said. “What do you hope to gain from this alliance?”
“Our lives,” the man said bluntly.
Khalee Lah sniffed. “A paltry reward.”
“That may be,” the bearded man retorted, showing the first hint of spine since his arrival, “but it’s hard for a dead man to spend reward credits.”
“An interesting philosophy,” Harrar broke in, “but a discussion best suited to other circumstances. We require more agents in this sector. Tell us what would prompt Hapans to join forces with the Yuuzhan Vong.”
“There’s not much to do. Most of it’s already done. You have to know a bit of our history,” the man began, warming to his subject as he spoke. “Hundreds of years ago, Hapes was settled by pirates.”
Khalee