As they raced through the night, Ayo breathed a deep sigh of relief at the farmer’s ineptitude at catching them. It seemed that the poor man had no idea of what to do, and that he was just as scared as they had been. Still, they now had transport and a means of escape should things go wrong.

Ayo turned briefly from the moonlit plain ahead to look at his passengers. He stole a quiet giggle at the sight of Yarua, with his fur blown back from his face by the wind. Zibeon was beside himself with awe, for the little alien had never travelled so fast in his life. Before his new family had rescued him, he had never seen any of these strange, metal creatures that took him to far-off places, the whale that had swallowed him and taken him up into the sky, and the mutmut on whose back they now sat. Zibeon was exhilarated by the rushing wind and scream of the engines, the call of magic mutmut as it raced over the dark ground.

Ayo flew the speeder over a sheer escarpment, causing Zibeon’s stomach to lurch up to his throat as the vehicle plummeted before bouncing on its antigrav cushion. Zibeon opened his mouth and allowed the wind to course over his fangs. He wanted to taste the raw speed at which they were moving.

Ayo pointed to a faint row of lights on the horizon, some distance from the glow of Myreionill.

“That’s Fort Myreion,” he shouted over the engines. “That’s where we’ve got to go.” Ayo’s spirits had been much lifted since they had successfully commandeered the farmer’s landspeeder. “Soon, we’ll be off this planet and back with the Guvnor where we can all sort out Mandalore.” Ayo turned to his companions. “You both looking forward to seeing that ugly bastard in jail?”

Yarua barked and nodded in agreement, reaching forward and giving his friend a gentle punch on the shoulder. The young Wookiee was as ready as he would ever be, as visions of Zibeon’s people being mistreated raced through his mind. He shuddered. Nobody, thought Yarua, should be allowed to play God with those weaker than they.

The lights of Fort Myreion grew in clarity as they approached the vast estate. Ayo slowed the speeder to a halt and switched off the headlights. The three of them sat there, quiet and still, as they became adjusted to the darkness and silence. The sea could be heard, waves crashing upon the nearby beach.

“We’ll walk from here,” said Ayo as he leant his folded arms against the back of the seat. “The hangar’s at the end of a long peninsula, and the only way we can reach it is through the estate. The perimeter’s about a mile down the beach, so we should get there in about half an hour.”

Yarua worfled in agreement as he climbed out from the vehicle. He leant over and helped Zibeon into his rucksack before hoisting it from the seat and onto his shoulders.

“We got everything, then?” asked Ayo, anxious that their mission could succeed. Yarua grunted the affirmative, for he had check and double-checked everything whilst in the speeder. The weapons were fully charged and working.

“We’ll have to cross the Formal Gardens to get to the hangar, but it should be easy once we’re in.”

The three of them descended through the gorse to the beach. The sand was hard and compacted from the earlier rain, and was easy underfoot, crunching gently with each tread. The waves continued their rhythmic crashing as they gradually rearranged the sands.

Ayo began to sing to himself as they trudged along the beach, following the line of the low, sandy cliff topped with gorse. The lights from the Mansion provided what little ambient light there was, but it allowed them to see where they were going, now that the moon had retreated into its blanket of cloud.

Ayo continued his quiet singing. The song was obscene, much of it describing various parts of Japhta Fett’s body. Yarua hummed along in his raucous growl. Their morale was elevated by the music, and it seemed to shorten their journey.

“This is it,” said Ayo as he came to a halt. The Fort Myreion estate lay behind a high wall that cut across the beach and followed the line of the coast. The beach came to an end.

Ayo and Yarua studied the wall before them, straining their eyes as they searched for any break in this perimeter defence. Not only was the wall smooth and uncompromising, but also it was impossible to scale from the beach. Ayo tried to gain a foothold in the slippery, seaweed-covered ferrocrete and failed.

“’S too high here. We’ll have to go further inland.”

Ayo and Yarua, with Zibeon safely stored within the Wookiee’s rucksack, scrambled up the loose, sandy cliff, hauling themselves to the top with ropey strands of dead hairgrass roots that draped before them. The hairgrass was tough and it gave Yarua an idea.

As they crawled to the top, Yarua grunted, motioning at the roots he had plucked from the cliff-face.

“Yeah,” said Ayo as the Wookiee began to tie the roots into a long rope. “That’ll help us get over that wall.” Zibeon watched with interest as they joined together the hairgrass roots in the manner of an immense daisy chain. The roots were thick and tough, a strong vine that prevented the cliff from being washed into the sea.

Ayo returned to his study of the wall. Now they had reached the top of the cliff the wall was lower, but it was still a tricky climb, particularly with the wicked-looking spikes he had only just noticed, jutting from the top of the wall like rancotherium teeth.

“Tie the end of the rope into a noose,” suggested Ayo, “then we can use one of the spikes as an anchor.” Yarua grunted in agreement before bending the makeshift rope upon itself and securing it with a knot. He tugged at it to test its strength. The noose held, even when the young Wookiee exerted his full and considerable strength.

“Well,” said Ayo with a smile, “if it can withstand you pulling at it, then it should take our weight.” Ayo glanced up at the spikes. “Okay, then,” he said matter-of-factly, “lets go for it.”

Yarua swung the rope like a lasso before hurling it at the top of the wall. The rope dropped slackly between two spikes before he hauled it back for another try. The second time around it wrapped around one of the spikes. The rope tightened its grip when Yarua yanked hard at it.

“Nice one, Yarua,” said Ayo with a grin as the Wookiee ushered Zibeon back into the rucksack. He gestured to the rope that hung before them: “After you.”

Yarua picked up the rucksack containing Zibeon, and hoisted it to his shoulders before grasping the rope. Using the joining knots as footholds, Yarua slowly pulled himself up to the level of the spikes. Grabbing the needle sharp points, he hauled himself carefully to the top of the wall and wedged himself between the spikes. Once Yarua was secure, he peered over the wall and barked.

“What, Yarua?” yelled Ayo. The Wookiee barked again. “A moat?” He swore. The last thing he wanted was to get wet. It would slow them down. Nevertheless, they had to get inside in order to procure a starship to replace the Red Planet. It was the only way off this planet.

“We’ll have to go for it,” said Ayo as he grabbed the rope and began to climb. When Ayo reached the top, Yarua grunted a question. The Wookiee was unsure whether Zibeon was able to swim.

Grasping the spikes for safety as they balanced precariously on top of the wall, they peered into the dark expanses of the estate. The moon had returned and the water rippled beneath its faint light. The moat was wide, but there was a gentle bank beyond. The moat stopped just beyond the shore. Ayo was relieved that they did not have to climb out of a deep ditch once they were in.

Zibeon clambered out of Yarua’s rucksack and looked around, wide-eyed, as he clutched the fur on the Wookiee’s head.

“He looks like the swimming type, what with his flippers and all,” said Ayo, “but he’s rather little.” He turned to Zibeon. “You all right there, Zib? We’ll soon be out of here.”

Ayo carefully removed the rucksack from Yarua’s back before unclipping his own. The two bags were stuffed with the essentials brought with them on their long journey from the swamp, and were thus heavy. Grabbing one of the spikes with his free hand, Ayo swung the bags high over his head before throwing them in a wide arc over the moat. They thudded onto the far bank.

“Pass us Zibeon,” said Ayo as he prepared himself for a soaking. Yarua handed over the small alien, and Ayo could feel Zibeon’s heartbeat racing through his fingers. “Here we go, Zib,” said Ayo as he launched himself into the darkness.

The water was cold and Zibeon squealed as they fell. As Ayo’s head broke the surface, he began to panic. Where’s Zibeon, he thought frantically, afraid that his little friend might have drowned. Ayo’s fears quickly subsided when he heard a high-pitched spluttering from behind him. He turned to see Zibeon, coughing from the water forced up his nose, his eyes tightly closed.

“Thank heavens for that, Zib,” gasped Ayo as they swam towards the far bank. At that moment, there was an almighty splash as Yarua joined them. The Wookiee swam across the moat with a powerful front crawl, reaching the bank long before Ayo and Zibeon.

Ayo climbed on to the bank and sat down. He felt extremely uncomfortable. Water dripped through his clothes and boots, and his toes felt dead and shrivelled. Still, he mused, they were in and they had not been caught.

Ayo stood up and hoisted his sodden rucksack over his shoulders. The bag felt heavier than ever as the three of them crept towards the Formal Gardens that embellished the terraces in front of the Mansion. The moon had once again been extinguished by the clouds and Ayo felt much more at ease in the added darkness. He just hoped that Mandalore’s guards had not seen them.

* * *

General Crouze stood behind the central fountain of the Formal Gardens. He and his guardtroopers enjoyed perfect vision in this thick darkness, and they were fully aware of the three intruders that were making their way across the grounds. Crouze sent a pulse-code message to his patrol and silently, they filed through the Gardens and over the ornamental stone bridge that spanned the narrowest section of the Great Pond.

Crouze and his guardtroopers took up their positions, unseen and unheard. They had carefully rehearsed this operation once they had learnt of Her Ladyship’s desire to capture this Jedi girl that was roaming the Mansion. The general frowned behind his mask as he hid behind a conifer. He felt that this cloak-and-dagger stuff was a complete waste of time, and that Lady Fett should have simply pointed out this ‘Sarolyn’ person so that he could just shoot her. If she wants to play games, then let her have her fun.

* * *

Zibeon stopped in his tracks and sniffed the air. He could smell something, something from his last moments at the Nest. He was frightened.

“What’s up, Zib?” whispered Ayo when he caught sight of Zibeon’s puff-cheeked expression of fear.

Zibeon’s glowing eyes widened like saucers. “Mon...sta,” he whimpered, his body shaking with terror.

Ayo crouched down to Zibeon’s height. “It’s all right, little ‘un,” he said softly, stroking the top of the little alien’s head. “There aren’t any monsters here. We—”

The sentence remained unfinished. A blinding, blue stream of energy plunged into Ayo’s chest, throwing him, screaming, to the ground. He collapsed like a rag doll. Yarua tried frantically to locate the source of the laser fire that had struck down his companion.

Before Yarua could react, a cable snickered tightly around his torso, pinning his arms to his side. Hackles raised in anger, the young Wookiee struggled to free himself as he was dragged to his knees.

Roaring with rage, Yarua tore at his bonds as he was repeatedly and savagely kicked by Crouze’s patrol of guardtroopers. He was becoming weak.

Zibeon could stand no more. Ayo lay inert on the grass and Yarua was being beaten up, much like he had been before his rescue. He began to feel guilty, for his friends had been caught because of him. The little Zez could feel a choking feeling rise from his throat at the thought. He could not fight these monster-men on his own. He was too small and weak. All Zibeon had ever known was fear, for his people were too timid to defend themselves. To the Zephoid Zez, it was better to run than to fight. He decided to run.

Zibeon broke out from the bush behind which he was hiding and ran as fast as his short, stumpy legs could carry him. He was immediately spotted, his small, ungainly body shining in the infrared as he waddled frantically towards the moat. The guardtroopers decided to pursue.

“Wait,” said General Crouze to his patrol as he motioned to the semiconscious forms of Ayo and Yarua. “Get them indoors and put them in the cellar. I’ll catch the other one.”

Crouze left the others to mop up. He could see the small creature hiding, breathless, behind a low hedge, its body heat betraying its presence in the dark. It thinks I can’t see it, thought Crouze with pride as he stalked up to Zibeon. The general crouched down and studied Zibeon. Easy, now. He stood up and slowly reached over the hedge towards the cowering Zibeon.

With lightning speed, General Crouze grabbed Zibeon by the neck and pulled him sharply out from his hiding place. Zibeon squealed, his loincloth dropping from his waist as he struggled to free himself. The general’s gloved hand dug into the loose skin of Zibeon’s neck with a searing pain.

General Crouze ran back towards the Mansion with his prize. Zibeon screamed and struggled as his captor carried him by his flippers. The screams, shrill and hoarse, echoed across the darkness, startling the shullamos that grazed on the lawn.

“Shut up!” snapped Crouze as Zibeon continued to resist. The screaming was beginning to hurt the general’s ears. He was growing angry. “Shut...up!” he shouted as he shook the struggling Zibeon.

Zibeon had never been so frightened in his life. These faceless monsters had killed his mate and his pups, and now they had come back to kill him. His stomach churned as Crouze swung him back and forth, and excrement began to ooze from between his buttocks, such was the extent of his fear. He continued to scream.

“Shut...up!” yelled Crouze as he carried the squealing Zez over the ornamental bridge that spanned the Great Pond. Still Zibeon screamed, his howls slicing the air. Crouze lost his temper. In a mad rage, he swung Zibeon in a wide arc and smashed his head hard against the stone parapet. The squealing stopped, Zibeon’s body hanging limply at Crouze’s side as it dripped a steady trickle of blood upon the flagstones.

The Formal Gardens were once again silent as the moonlight returned, its light cast around the trees and shrubs that punctuated the floral borders. Stars twinkled through the gaps in the clouds, gaps that had opened up as if to admit a newly liberated soul.

Forward to Chapter 34

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