trees back on Tython.
Lower down, buildings and streets clung to the islands and sometimes protruded out
over the ocean on slender stilts, and beautifully wrought bridges stood in isolation
over the waterways.Ships dotted the ocean, and the inner waterways were busy with smaller watercraft.
The white metal spires pulsed here and there with colored lights, illuminated even
during daytime to identify an island, a building, or a street. It was an attractive
city, and most of its money came from tourism. People traveled from all over Kalimahr
to holiday on Rhol Yan. And with tourists came the vultures and parasites who preyed
on them.
She was directed to a landing platform on a high tower on one of the outer islands.
There were scores of gracefully wrought landing pads and bays around the tower, and
exterior elevators whisked up and down its uneven sides. Even the city’s air and spaceport
were beautiful.
As the Peacemaker settled, Lanoree prepared herself for what was to come. Her mission
started here.
“Keep an eye on the ship,” she said to the droid. It grumbled and clicked. “Yes, I’ll
have my comlink.” She felt the sliver of tech in her lapel just to make sure. Then
she stood within the cabin and smoothed down her clothing, checking that her sword
was strapped correctly to her thigh, ran fingers through her hair. She used her metal
Je’daii star to fix her cape around her neck. For now, there was no need to hide.
She was surprised to realize that she was nervous.
Somewhere at the end of this mission, her brother waited.
Like any visitor who had landed on one of the spacecraft platforms, Lanoree was directed
through to a large room with lines of interview pods. One entire side was a window
offering staggering views across Rhol Yan and the glimmering sea beyond, and the opposite
wall was splayed with extravagant artwork that labeled it the Welcome Hall. But its
real purpose was obvious. Kalimahr’s security services were efficient and discreet,
and even a Je’daii was not simply waved through. She respected that. And by the time
she was ushered from her interview pod, the three officers inside also respected her
privacy. A subtle push, a gentle word. Perhaps in a few days’ time they might start
to question their decision to let her in so lightly, although by then she would be
long gone.
But by the time she had traveled on three elevators down throughthe tower to ground level, Lanoree began to suspect that she was being followed.
She paused in the vast lobby of the port tower, bought a drink from a vendor droid,
and melted into the shadows beneath a wide, low tree. There were tables and chairs
there, and a massively fat Zabrak woman was harvesting large insects from the tree’s
lower canopy, flash-frying them, and selling them to eager customers. Lanoree decided
she was not hungry.
As she drank, she watched the bank of elevators she had just left. Her sense of being
followed was strong, but though she waited for a while, none of those exiting the
elevators seemed to be looking for her. Strange. She was certain it was not one of
the customs officers.
“Lady, you’re a fine one,” a voice said. A tall robed figure had approached, and she
was annoyed with herself for not noticing.
“I’m drinking,” she said.
“So drink with me.”
“No, thanks.”
“Come on, Ranger. You’re young. I’m almost two hundred years old. Got experience.
Got three bottles of chay wine in my rooms, almost as old as me, just waiting for
a special occasion.”
She rested her hand on her sword’s haft. The Force was calm and settled, and the weapon
was part of her. “Would losing your life constitute a special occasion?”
He stared at her from beneath his hood, amused, uncertain. Then he waved a hand and
turned to leave. “Ach. Je’daii. So tightly wound.”
She finished her drink, then moved out across the lobby area. There were