chapter 4
Kan tapped his foot impatiently. It was at least fifteen minutes past the appointed time the group was supposed to depart for Zylxx, yet he was the only one that had showed up. Where was everyone this morning?
Maybe he shouldn't feel so surprised. Aedan was notorious for being late ––– it guaranteed that everyone would witness his entrance, which was always dramatic and radically entertaining.
Adriaan wasn't the type to be on time, either. He'd seen enough of her to know that. And she definitely had no guts for the task that lay ahead. Yes, his Master was gutsy ––– too gutsy ––– unless it came to Aedan and his gang. She was no doubt hiding in her quarters, hoping the mission would cancel itself. Kan couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't dared to refuse to take Aedan and his sister with her ––– because he knew that she was too independent and stubborn to bow down to the wishes of the Council without questioning their orders.
Stop treating her like a kid, he told himself sternly. She's your Master. She can handle Aedan. She knew that she could. That's why she didn't protest.
"But she is a kid," Kan felt like saying. "Even she admitted that she's like five years older than me."
Think Kan. Don't judge by appearance or by how old someone is. Look at Yoda. Size and age matter not.
Kan had never thought of his old Master as a kid like himself. Ruru had always been a quiet, powerful presence standing at his side, supporting him through his troubles, chasing away his fears. He had always trusted his Master and had believed in him.
"Adriaan only makes me more afraid. Afraid for her. She's hiding something. Ruru never hid anything from me. He told me everything."
But how do you know? Maybe back then you weren't paying any attention. You aren't giving Adriaan a chance. You're already assuming that she will fail. You have to trust her. Trust is believing in people, believing that they will do right, even though you don't know their inner selves completely. Trust her.
He drew a deep breath. This first mission with her should help, he said to himself, I'll try to do what she says. And I'll try to trust her. That is all that I can promise.
Suddenly a horribly foul stench assailed his nostrils. His nose wrinkled as the smell seeped down his throat. This time, he knew that it was not him that stunk. It was someone far smellier and infinitely more –––
"WICKED!"
"Well, here comes the assault," Kan muttered as he saw an all-too-familiar blond youth emerge through the hangar doors and charge toward him.
"Kan! WICKED KAN! WICK-Kan! Long time no see!" Aedan screamed, turning cartwheels around Kan. "WICKED, WICK-A-WICK-A-WICK-A-WICKED!"
"WICKED!" chorused two more boys that appeared behind him.
"Terry! Na'thin!" WICKED morning to you!" Aedan yelled to them in greeting.
A tiny, thin human boy popped his head out from around the other two. "Do not forget the WICKED Kien!"
"WICKED, WICK-A-WICK-A-WICK-A-WICKED!!" the boys shrieked, capering around Kan.
At that moment, Andora entered the hangar, walking stiffly in short, choppy strides. She stopped when she saw them, her arms swinging limply as she stared at them with an expression of scandalized disapproval. She tilted her nose haughtily at them with obvious disgust. "Stop that incessant and disruptive racket at once," she said in her clipped, sharp little voice. "Many of our good, righteous Masters are resting. They must rejuvenate their energies so that they will be prepared to teach their students thoroughly and properly. Are you listening, you horrid vagabonds?"
Aedan stuck his tongue out at his sister and crossed his eyes at her.
Adriaan suddenly strode in after Andora, her face grimly set. She stood poised, as if ready to flee at a moments notice. "What is that despicable smell?" she demanded of the Wicked Club.
"US!" they yelled at her. "WICKED!"
"Yes, 'Wicked'" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "now, before we WICKEDLY leave, I suggest we WICKEDLY do roll call."
"Roll call?" Kan wondered aloud. "But I thought only Aedan was–––"
Adriaan glared at him. "Change of plans."
"But –––"
"No 'but's," Adriaan said crisply. "You may ask questions, but once I give the answer, it is final. The Council thought that since they handed me the leader of all idiocy, they may as well just throw in all of his lot with me. I'm sorry, Kan, but it is my fate to be tormented thus. Do you understand me?"
"Yes Master," Kan said.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "You know that I don't like you to call me that."
"Um, sorry Master Ree," Kan said, struggling to keep his face straight. One of the things that made Adriaan seem much more laid back than a regular Master was that she insisted from the very beginning that Kan cut out all the formalities with her and just call her by her nickname, "Ree" He was still grappling with the concept of addressing her as a fellow student, even though she had graduated from Apprenticeship about two years ago.
A half-smile brightened her features. Winking at him, she turned to face Aedan. "Okay, let's go through the list." She bowed mockingly toward Aedan. "Your WICKED majesty," she said pompously. "You are looking very hot today."
Aedan grinned smugly, either ignoring or not seeing the sardonic smile on her face. "Me Always look WICKEDLY hot."
She rolled her eyes at Kan and gestured toward Terry and Na'thin. "WICKED Terry and WICKED Na'thin are here," she said. "And –––"
She frowned at Kien, who sprawled on the floor, covered only by a ragged pair of leggings. "Who's that half-naked moron over there?" she asked mockingly. "Kien Mariner, right?"
She frowned with pretended anxiety. "But where's the old grump and his herd of banthas?"
"We're right here," a chubby boy said, waddling over to her. Behind him was another, equally fat boy. Both had dulled, half-witted expressions that had made Kan contemplate countless times on how they could pull it off as Jedi students. Lastly, a dark-haired, scowling boy came up and slouched sulkily in the background.
"Minir! Jahn Pa'ul and Sai'wer!" Aedan said. "WICKED morning!"
"Good morning," Jahn Pa'ul said.
"Good-bye!" Sai'wer said at the same time.
"Humph!" Minir growled.
Aedan glanced sidelong at Adriaan. "You're gettin' to be pretty WICKED, girl," he said.
"Says WICKED like a WICKED," Terry agreed.
"Oh, thanks," Adriaan muttered.
"Hey, Minir!" Kien called out. "Maybe you should add that GOOD old bantha cow to your herd!" He pointed at Andora, whose cheeks flushed.
"ENOUGH!" Adriaan shouted. "Just get yourself and the rest of your brainless minions on board so that I can get going! The faster the mission gets done, the better."
"Than we will be sure to make the trip as WICKEDLY long as it is WICKEDLY possible," Terry said.
*****
They had been in hyperspace for days now, but to Kan, it had felt like years before the planet Zylxx had appeared on the navigation screen. The Wicked Club did not break their word ––– they had tried and had succeeded in making the flight as agonizing and as interminable as possible.
They were flying aboard a Republic assault ship, and even though it was large and had an infinity of spaces to hide in, Kan had found it hard to escape from the Wicked Club. He had nearly fainted with relief when the command clone pilot had announced that they had invaded Syleeto airspace.
A clone trooper approached, marching at a swift, clipped pace. Kan barely glanced at the number on the side of the clone trooper's helmet. Generally the clones were given no names; they were addressed as a series of letters and numbers, according to their legion and rank.
The number on the clone said CT-1279. His armor had black and orange markings, indicating which brigade he belonged to. Private of the one hundred and seventh legion, he calculated automatically. Not that he really cared ––– he had tried before to speak to the clones, but they had all proved unimaginative and not very talkative. Kan found their neutral, technical way of speaking boring. And besides, they all kind of creeped him out. The physical and emotional personality of one was exactly the same as any other clone, which made it next to impossible to tell them apart. And the fact that their characteristics weren't their own, but rather copies of an original bad guy didn't serve to lessen Kan's uneasiness around them, either.
The clone saluted stiffly. "Commander ell Talaan requires your presence on the command bridge, sir."
"Would you please stop calling me 'sir'?" Kan asked.
"Against orders, sir. Shall I direct you to the bridge, sir?"
"No, no," Kan said, preferring to guide himself, "I can direct myself." He brushed past the clone.
"Very good, sir."
The clone did not follow, but strode off in the opposite direction, much to Kan's relief. Perhaps part of the reason Kan didn't like them was for this: the clones were made for war. They literally lived for death. The thought sickened him whenever he was near one of the bounty hunter's copies. That was why Kan preferred to avoid them. It didn't pay, he was sure, to make friends with a born killer.
The command bridge was the control center of the ship, situated in a tower several hundred meters above the main body of the cruiser. Kan liked to imagine it as the ship's mind. Everything was decided at the command bridge, and everyone in the ship was commanded by the pilots and commanders at the bridge.
Kan had been there often ––– it was the perfect spot for stargazing. The one thing Kan loved to do the most in his spare time was to watch the stars, planets and their systems rotate in the depths of space. And since he had too much time to kill on his hands, Kan had done a lot of stargazing over the past few days.
And when he wasn't staring out the huge transparisteel screens of the bridge, he was busy watching the crew work.
The Senate had sent a small, compact regiment of ten AT-TEs, eight SPHA-Ts, 16 LAAT gunships, 64 speeder bikes and a force of 2,304 ground troops aboard an Acclamator II-class assault ship to counter the invasion of the Syleeto system. The commanders had to access the data they received about the outlying positions of the enemy ground units, and they had to organize their own infantry in accordance. It was the crew's job to tackle the various holocharts and streams of datafiles that were continually being updated on the Syleeto system, its inhabitants, customs, government and climate, which might prove useful information once the battle began.
On top of that, the crew had to make sure that all the outlets for the CIS were blocked, to prevent any of the Republic's fleet from having a confrontation with them prematurely. It seemed an endless task to be a bridge crew member ––– day by day Kan watched them scuttle back and forth, dragging utility carts, typing in information, giving orders to the pilots and clones, checking the ship for damage, monitoring the navigation screens in the hopes of intercepting incoming Separatist craft ––– he never tired when he was in the command bridge. One thing he had to give the clones credit for was their efficiency and flawless military training. He had seen them in combat on Geonosis, and he knew what they were capable of. Though they lacked the numbers of the Confederacy of Independant Systems, they were more superior to the factory-produced droids in both mental and physical capability.
Just then he sighted his Master, who was hunched over a datascreen intently, her brow creased with concentration. She hardly noticed him as he came up behind her to study the screen.
Zi-zi 110725-998236ZA1aHAWK 453QUASAR 751 TAU 0010 2751…
"What is this?" Kan asked. "Military codes?"
Adriaan looked up and saw that he was there. She waved her hand over the datascreen. "It's the positions of our fleet," she explained. She grabbed a laser pointer and jabbed it's neon-green beam at the word TAU. "Some of these ships, like the starfighters and the assault cruisers, have names or an I.D. number so that we can track each individual craft separately. Some of the series of numbers map out the coordinates of the ship. Right now TAU is flying on the starboard side of our ship, which is assigned the name QUASAR in this file."
"Oh."
Adriaan closed the file and selected one which was entitled NEBULA. Kan leaned against the console and stared at the screen.
Queen Hyrax has maintained possession of the smallest southern continent on Zylxx. Most of the Zylxxians have fled to Hyrax's stronghold, but approximately seventy-five percent of the inhabitants have been captured and put in concentration camps. The Queen has stationed her own bodyguard around the perimeter of the city. They are recognized by the iridescent purplish plastoid armor that they are outfitted with. The people of the city refer to them as Nebulae. Close surveillance of the captured capital has suggested that…
His Master sighed and closed the file. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her long legs and clopping them on top of the console. "I've got a headache from staring at numbered codes and datafiles for six hours straight."
"What's our situation on Zylxx?" Kan asked.
She cocked an eye at him. "The droid army has laid siege to the city for almost a month now," Adriaan said. She quickly accessed a file containing a holochart of the area. She poked the laser pointer at a red dot on the map. "That's the capital ––– Zi'yx-zi-si-wi." The name spilled easily out of her mouth as if she had been saying it all of her life.
Kan looked at her in admiration. "Could you say the capital's name again?" he said. "You said it too quickly."
A grin lit her face. "I can't say it slower," she said. "Zylxx is a very complicated language. It is spoken very rapidly and with very little pause between each syllable. It's similar to Geonosian and Sullustan, except Zylxxians put emphasis on the consonant sounds. The vowels keep the words flowing from one to the next. So you say it like this: Zi'YX-Zee-See-Wee."
He shook his head incredulously. "Sorry. I still can't get it. Do the Zylxxians speak basic?"
She looked amused. "No," she said. "They do not have the proper vocal cords to speak anything beyond their language. And you shouldn't feel so chagrined about not being able to speak Zylxxian, either ––– no other species has been recorded to have been able to speak the language."
He looked at her. "Besides you."
She chuckled. "You've got it. When I was young I always felt fascinated by the many languages spoken across the galaxy. I learned many of the common ones ––– Huttese, Rodian,Sullustan, Jawa dialect, the usual ––– but I yearned to speak the ones that could not be spoken by human beings. So I got a course in Wookiee languages ––– but instead of just learning the words, I also learned how to converse in Wookiee. So I guess that's where the whole thing started. So far I can speak Wookiee, Zylxxian, Geonosian, Gungan, Mon Calamari, Aqualish, and of course a few others on the side."
She stretched in the chair, tipping it far back as she reached her arms up over her head. "Now back to the subject. The Separatists attacked the Zi'yx-zi-si-wi area first, taking the Zylxxians completely by surprise. It was just after the battle of Geonosis, and most systems as far out as Syleeto still hadn't received the news yet. Because of this, the Seps easily secured control of the capital and the entire continent surrounding it. Those who were not immediately captured have either gathered on the sparsely populated side of the planet or have fled Zylxx altogether. The citizens remaining are demoralized ––– most of their leaders have escaped to safer regions of the system, abandoning their people. Only their recently elected queen, Hyrax, and those loyal to her have not left. We may have a lot of work to do to get the Zylxxians straightened out."
"Isn't the queen a good enough leader?" Kan asked. "Why is she having so much trouble calming her people down?"
Adriaan leaned forward. "Hyrax was elected less than a month ago, and she barely won the election. Her rival, Hygél, is a rich politician with many powerful friends in the Senate. How she was elected sovereign ruler of the system, I'll never know. She has taken several politics classes and is active in her planet's government, but she is only eight years old and comes from an average middle-class family that immigrated to Syleeto decades ago. She has just begun her term as queen, so her people most likely have not come to completely trust her yet. She is currently the youngest to run as queen in the system's history."
Kan shook his head in amazement. "She must have a sharp mind to be that good in politics." Secretly he was a little envious of Hyrax's abilities. He believed that to be a good politician, you had to be a galactic genius. Even with his Jedi training, he still had a hard time understanding the ridiculously complex rules of the Senate, and he was positive that he was not alone in the struggle to master them.
Adriaan shrugged. "So they say. But I don't judge anyone until I meet them in person; I have nothing to say about her until then."
An alarm shrieked across the space, shattering his concentration as it screamed into his ears. "Approaching destination," a metallic, artificial voice echoed as the alarm died away. "Planet Zylxx of the Syleeto system, Mid-Rim. Repeat, approaching destination. Prepare for landing."
Adriaan closed the file and stood up. "Let's go."
Half an hour later, Adriaan and Kan were conferring with the clone commander assigned for the mission. The commander, introducing himself as Urak, looked no different from his clone brothers, except for the colored markings on the plain-colored helmet, indicating his rank. His face possessed no personal quality that set him apart from the others; it was the blank, hard, grim face of thousands that had been born into a life without compassion or feeling, a life of labor, blood, and death. Urak had removed his helmet, tucking it under his arm. Without their masks, Kan thought the clones looked less like hardened emissaries of death and more like regular beings, yet he still wished that he didn't have to see an unmasked clone's face.
All the clones had been created from a sole host. The cloners, no doubt, were experienced in their art. The DNA they used as a template was the best they could have chosen, because it belonged to a warrior. And a warrior had all the highest qualities people wanted to see in a soldier. So the clones, because of their makeup, were made of the best stuff that caused them to take such a brutal life so neutrally, which would not have been possible had they been cloned from a softer being.
Yet Kan wished that they had chosen another as the clones' host. If they had only used some other person, some other battle-hardened being, then he would not mind looking a clone in the face. But they hadn't. Instead, the person they had chosen had been none other than the same cruel Mandalorian that had taken his former Master's life.
Jango Fett.
He knew it was silly of him to be afraid of a face ––– but the clones were so like Jango in their looks and abilities and the way they reacted and moved ––– it was like seeing the resurrected form of a man long dead.
"…Nebulae are stationed in small areas around its perimeter." Urak's clipped, military voice cut into his thoughts. "Queen Hyrax has suggested that General ell Talaan and her Padawan learners land near a Nebula station, so that her guard can escort you to the palace, where she may inform you of our situation and, if possible, advise you on how you'd best proceed to clear the enemy from the system."
"But that would alert the CIS of our presence," Adriaan pointed out. "This is all an unnecessary risk. We'll land some of our troops in groups aboard small cruisers, leaving the assault ships in space to cut off the Separatists' communications. I and the Apprentices will meet with the Queen and try to persuade her to recruit some civilians as soldiers. Numbers count in battle, and I want to have as many infantry as possible. Urak, I want you to recruit a clone squad of your choice, and I want you to land and scout the area surrounding the capital. Report all positions to the orbiting cruisers. We'll meet at Hÿÿ and put together all the details. By then the Seps will have discovered our positions, if not before. I'll do some tampering with the communications system on the ground while the assault ships land to unload the rest of the units and vehicles, so that the CIS won't get a chance to send a message to other Separatist fleets. Now, any suggestions?"
"Very good, General. But what method of attack will we use against them? We are far outnumbered. We can't attack them in full force. We need to come up with a surprise move to break their army up, ma'am."
"Those details will come in later, Commander. Right now all you need to worry about is getting the information I need so that we can outmaneuver them."
"Yes ma'am. We'll get the information for you right away."
"I'm sure you will."
Urak saluted and marched away. Adriaan turned and spotted Kan. "Padawan," she said. "Inform the younglings that they must gather their belongings and prepare for landing. I'll meet you in the hangar bay. We have an assigned transport that'll get us to the surface."
"Yes, Master."
"Ree. Or Adriaan."
"Yes, Adriaan."
He managed to stride away, looking purposeful, without losing his composure. But once safely out of the command bridge and away from his Master's probing gaze, he let himself give in. He slumped his shoulders, groaning aloud. His Master had given him the worst possible job she could have thought of. He had no heart to fulfill his task. It was next to impossible to relay a message to the Wicked Club. Most of the time he never even got a chance to speak.
It wasn't long before he spotted a thin, scraggly youth with white-blond hair skipping through the hallway. A cloud of insects buzzed happily around the boy's head. He caught sight of Kan and scampered toward him. "Hello, WICKED Kan," he called out cheerfully.
"Hi, Kien," Kan said hesitantly. Not all the Wicked Club was hard to handle. Kan had always liked Kien's wisecracking manner, and he preferred the small, goofy youth to the rest of the motley group.
Kien's frank green eyes sparkled with merriment. His eyes were the strangest thing about him. They looked unnatural ––– neon green shot with yellow flecks. Topped with a thatch of almost white hair, Kien was physically the most noticeable in the Wicked Club.
"Whas-up, WICKED Kan?" Kien asked, thunking him on the back with genuine friendliness.
"Oh, nothing," Kan muttered. I won't give him the message, he thought, I need someone who is more reliable. Kien would probably mix up the message. "I'm looking for Minir," he said aloud.
Kien's eyes widened in surprise. No one ever wanted to see Minir. He was the dark, silent presence that seemed to smother all inclinations to smile or laugh when he was near. Kan had always disliked the forbidding scowl that was ever present on the boy's face. And he had never come to trust the mean, shifty, slit-like eyes that stared at everyone with undisguised contempt. Nevertheless, Minir was the man for the job. He alone of the Wicked Club would not forget Adriaan's command.
"Minir?" Kien asked.
"Yes. Minir," Kan said, trying to sound more sure than he really felt. "My Master, uh, has a message I need to relay to him."
Kien seemed satisfied with the explanation. "Down the hall, seventh door on the right," he directed. "But don't be GOOD. Minir woke up on the GOOD side of the bed today. Your message had better be WICKED."
"I'll make it quick. Thanks, Wicked Kien."
Kan turned to go, but after a moment Kien called his name. "WICKED Kan?"
He stopped and turned. "Yes?"
The boy grinned. "You'd better unclip your WICKED weapon."
Kan nodded seriously and whirled around. He got the message: Be careful.
He was in the sleeping portion of the ship, and now the hallways were alive with activity. Clone troopers, always moving in even-numbered groups, marched past in battle formation. Some paused for a moment, pressing against the wall to let the others pass as they checked a weapon or a wrist comlink to see if it was functioning correctly.
Kan passed by several doors as he traveled down the corridor. He ignored these, however, and continued to look straight ahead, counting the doors on the right as he passed them. One, two, three.
Ahead, the fourth door suddenly opened, and he stopped to let the person pass. To his surprise, it was Andora Kenobi who stepped out the door. She was checking the gear on her utility belt, so she didn't notice him as he approached to give her the message.
Kan stood by her for a moment, clearing his throat awkwardly. He hadn't spoken to her before, and he was wondering how to proceed when she looked up and caught sight of him. Without a word, she straightened and squared her shoulders. But she did not look him in the face. Instead, she stared straight ahead at something over his shoulder.
He coughed. "Um, Miss Andora Kenobi, um…" he groped for words nervously. Her stiff, military pose and businesslike attitude was putting him off-balance. And he didn't like the way she avoided looking at him, but kept her gaze riveted over his head, as if he were only a glob of slime on the floor. And her cold silence made him feel like a glob of slime even more. "Master, er…Adriaan would um…Adriaan wants you fully packed and in the hangar in within a quarter of an hour," he finished in a rush.
Her smooth brow puckered ominously. "How dare you!" she said, her tone clearly implying that she thought of him as an oversized, clumsy youngling that had dared to speak to her high-and-mightiness. Kan would not have been surprised if she put her hands on her hips and shook a finger at him.
Her stern yet childlike voice thudded into his brain as she punched each word into the air. "…you disrespectful, naughty, naughty child! Since when does a little student like you call his peer by her first name? Dreadful! The Jedi Order has lightened the weight of its hand on the newest generation of students. In the days of the Old Republic, students such as you were left to rot on forsaken worlds! I shall go tell Master ell Talaan of this at once!"
"But she wants me to call her Adriaan," Kan protested. "And she wouldn't really care about what you had to say about her lack of discipline, either." He felt slightly annoyed at being admonished by a youngling several years younger than him.
"More impertinence?" Andora cried. "How dare you! She must care about what Ihave to say!"
"Why?" he asked bluntly.
She looked so shocked that for a moment all she could do was stare at him incredelously, her lips moving silently. " 'Why'? Because everyone cares about my opinion!" she said finally. With another huff, she brushed past.
"Nice to see you, too," Kan muttered. He had never felt more belittled, pestered and aggravated in his life. "Anyway you're a bit off target when you say that everyone cares about your opinion," he said quietly to her retreating back, "because I don't. And Adriaan doesn't, either. And Aedan and his Club definitely doesn't give a rip for what you have to say."
I'd almost rather speak to Aedan than to her, he decided as he continued down the hall, Those Kenobi's have mental problems.
Kan paused before the seventh door. He listened for a moment, calling upon the Living Force. He felt a response to the call almost immediately. Minir was near.
He took a deep breath, then knocked sharply upon the door.
Suddenly, the door hissed open and a small, dark figure darted out. Before Kan could react, it had barreled into him, knocking him to the floor.
Minir picked himself up, shaking a mane of ebony-black hair away from his pale, almost colorless face. Dark, angry blue eyes snapped at Kan as he sat up, struggling to catch his breath. "Dumb Apprentice," Minir muttered. "If your going to spy on someone, for stars sake don't make it a botched GOOD job!
He scowled at Kan, who could only stare at him with wide eyes and gasp helplessly. "All right, get out with it, you GOOD! Why were you lurking outside my door?" he demanded of Kan.
"I was coming to give you a message –––"
"Liar! GOOD man! Why can't you watch where you are going?!" Minir screamed.
"Where I'mgoing? It was youwho knocked me off my feet by running into me! Youshould watch where you're going!" Kan had never felt so outraged in his life. He had only been trying to give Minir a simple message, and instead he was accused of espionage. This was worse than having to deal with Aedan himself. At least the Wicked King didn't accuse people of spying, as long as they chose the correct words to address him by.
"Shut up, GOOD man," Minir said rudely. "You have trespassed upon my obliging will and on top of that have interrupted my WICKED meditations. Now scram before I have to WICKEDLY kill you!" He slammed the door in Kan's face.
Kan did not scram right away, but stood outside for a moment, trying to cool down his temper. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe. Breathe. He felt his mind clear.
He rapped his knuckles upon the door, hoping that at least he would still have a chance of relaying the message without risking his neck by going into Aedan's domain. But there was no answer to his call. He knocked again. Still no answer.
Kan stood outside another minute, then decided to leave. Obviously the conversation, or argument, had ended for Minir. No doubt all forms of communication between him and the grumpy boy had ended permanently. But that didn't really matter. There were plenty of other people, who were much more understanding and cheerful than Minir, to talk to.
Kan sighed and trudged back down the hall. Maybe I should just speak to Aedan, he thought, at least he won't throw a fit for absolutely no reason, like Minir and Andora. As long as I use the expressions "wicked" and "good" correctly, and if I say that I like the Aquahawks pro-laserball team, I'll be okay.
He was so busy reciting what he would say to the Wicked King, that he didn't see Terry until he had run smack into him.
The first thing he noticed about Terry was that his reaction was completely different from young Voss and Kenobi. "Whoa, hello, WICKED," Terry said. "Whatcha thinkin' about, WICKED?"
Kan grabbed him by the shoulder before Terry had a chance to scamper off. "Wicked Terry, you're exactly the person that I want," he told him. "Could you Wickedly tell the Wicked King and his Wicked men that we are going to Wickedly leave in about ten minutes? Tell him we'll Wickedly meet him in the hangar bay, at dock 12C14. Got it?"
"Sure, WICKED," Terry said, saluting. "I've got ya covered. WICKED-bye-bye!"
Terry galloped off, eager to deliver the message to his leader.
Kan blew out a long-held sigh of relief.
"Well, that was easy," he said.