CHAPTER 16
Deevee arrived at the dockyard as nervous as a newly programmed protocol
droid. Although he was pleased about Hoole's decision, he wondered why his
master was taking such a great risk. It wasn't like Hoole to act irrationally.
But sometimes the Shi'ido did things that even Deevee didn't understand.
The smiling salesman, Meego, greeted Deevee warmly. "Good evening. We
were just about to close up for the night. How may I be of service?"
"I am here to see that the ship we purchased is ready to be picked up."
Meego's smile widened. "Ah, yes, your ship, your ship. Well, we've had a
slight problem with your ship. Nothing serious, mind you, just a small curve
in the hyperspace lane, so to speak."
Deevee was not programmed for metaphors. "A curve in a hyperspace lane
would cause immense damage to anyone traveling there and probably result in a
loss of life. Is that what you are implying, sir?"
The salesman winked as though he were telling a joke. "Look, it's not
that bad. The truth is we, um, accidentally sold your ship to someone else.
Can you believe it? Of all the foolish things! I can't tell you how sorry I
am."
"What can you tell me?" the droid said. "Specifically, what can you tell
me about the credits my master transferred to you."
Meego looked hurt. "Oh, not to worry, not to worry. Your master's credits
are safe with Meego. We'll just consider them a down payment on any other ship
you choose."
The droid's logic circuits sent out an internal alarm.
"Down payment? You mean you expect us to give you more money because you
made a mistake?"
Meego's expressive face sudden became very sympathetic. "Now, now, we are
sorry about the error. But, you see, you bought the least expensive ship in
the dockyard. So if you want to buy another one, you'll have to spend just a
little bit more."
The salesman shrugged and smiled.
Deevee knew when he was being tricked. His analytical circuits burned hot
as he searched for a solution. He looked around at the rows of ships until his
photoreceptors settled on the well-worn hull of the ship Zak had told them
about. It looked more like scrap metal than a starship, but Deevee trusted
Zak's opinion. "What about that ship?"
The salesman frowned. "That ship? Oh, urn, well, as I said the other day,
that ship hasn't yet been overhauled. It's not for sale yet."
"But my master requires a ship immediately, and that is the only one we
can buy with the money we've already paid."
The salesman shrugged. "Then I guess you'll have to make a down payment
on a more expensive one."
Deevee accessed a particular memory file. "Sir, I was just thinking about
the Tal Nami system."
"Really? What about it?" the salesman asked.
"The Tal Nami have a very interesting culture. Their bodies need two
foods to survive-the fruit of the egoa tree and the root of the capabara
plant. But the two plants can't grow in the same regions. So the Tal Nami of
one region have to trade with the Tal Nami of another region for everyone to
survive. In order to prevent the entire population from starving, they have
developed a code of honor among traders. Each trader tries to make sure the
other one gets the better end of the bargain. Since both sides are doing this,
it assures a fair trade."
"Fascinating," the dealer yawned.
"Of course, any trader who is caught dealing unfairly is immediately
punished. His feet are tied to the roots of an egoa tree, and his hands are
tied to the branches of that same tree. The egoa tree grows at a rate of one
meter per day. The result is gruesome, but the Tal Nami have an intense
dislike of villainous traders. They will travel light-years to track one down.
" Deevee paused for effect. "Have you ever been to Tal Nami, sir?"
"Can't say that I have."
"Master Hoole has. Several times, to visit friends. Good friends. In fact
would say if Master Hoole arrived in a ship foisted on him by an unscrupulous
dealer."
Meego swallowed. "Did you say they'd travel light-years to track down..."
"Yes, sir," Deevee replied. "Light-years."
Meego stared at Deevee, but it was impossible to tell if the droid were
bluffing or not. Finally he shook his head. "Suit yourself, droid. I'd
probably never get rid of this heap anyway. People would be afraid to buy it.
"Why is that?" Deevee asked.
"Too much bad history," said the salesman. "Didn't I mention it before?
This ship is called the Shroud. It used to belong to that criminal, Dr.
Evazan."
Deevee opened the hatchway and let himself onboard. He was surprised at
the sophisticated equipment inside. Evazan might have been an evil doctor, but
he was obviously quite intelligent.
"Now you know I'm not supposed to do this," Meego said. "It's against
regulations to sell used ships until the memory banks have been wiped. You
never know what kind of personal information might get passed along."
"That's correct," Deevee said. "You never do know."
Deevee's sophisticated brain buzzed with theories. If this was Evazan's
ship, maybe Zak had seen him onboard. Hadn't Zak said that Evazan was carrying
something away with him? Perhaps Evazan had come back to get some important
information. Deevee wondered if he'd gotten it all.
He punched up the computer. "Hey, you're not supposed to do that!" Meego
protested.
Deevee looked at the salesman. "Do you recall the extra credits you tried
to squeeze from me a few moments ago? Hand this ship over to me with the
memory banks intact, and those credits are yours."
Meego had never been one to care much for regulations, especially when
there was profit to be made. "It's a deal."
A few minutes later, Deevee was alone, browsing through a library full of
computer files. Some had been deleted, but many more were intact. Deevee's
photoreceptors skimmed across one startling title: "RE‑ANIMATION OF DEAD
TISSUE."
Urgent alarms rattled Deevee's program as he scanned the report. He was
at first amazed at what he read-and then horrified as he saw the phrase "the
use of cryptberries may enhance the reanimation process. They induce a state
that imitates death, which will allow for further preparation of the body..."
A state that imitates death...
Deevee made the connection. "Zak!"
Deevee turned to go, but found his way was blocked.
Boba Fett had crept up behind him.
At the graveyard Tash and Uncle Hoole found the iron gates sealed shut.
They could see the control panel on the inside wall through the bars, but it
was much too far away for them to reach.
"Wait a moment," Uncle Hoole said.
He closed his eyes. His skin started to wriggle and squirm across his
body like it was alive. Then Hoole's whole body began to twist and transform.
In moments the Shi'ido had disappeared, and a Ranat-a small ratlike creature
stood in its place. "I'll be right back," the Ranat said.
Hoole had shape-shifted as easil
y as most people walk or talk.
Hoole slipped easily through the bars and scampered over to the control
panel inside the cemetery wall. The control panel was set too high for a Ranat
to reach, so the Shi'ido shape-shifted again, and Hoole reappeared. He punched
a few buttons, and the gates swung open.
Tash shook her head. "I'll never get used to that."
"It is an ability that is often useful," Hoole admitted. "Now we must
hurry."
Dr. Evazan's grave was on the far side of the cemetery, in a plot
reserved for criminals and Imperial bureaucrats. Tash and Uncle Hoole had
brought two small shovels with them.
"You know, we are disturbing the dead." Tash smiled nervously. "They
could get angry."
Hoole scowled. "Ridiculous. That is superstitious nonsense, Tash."
Tash didn't answer.
Hoole plunged his shovel into the ground. He scooped up a few shovelfuls
of dirt, then noticed that Tash wasn't helping. He looked at his niece
curiously. She had grown very pale. "Is something wrong, Tash?"
Tash tried to speak, but she couldn't. Her mouth was dry and her tongue
had frozen. She pointed over Hoole's shoulder.
A zombie was staggering toward them.
CHAPTER 17
The undead creature had pale skin, stringy hair, and a sunken, skeletal
face. It was exactly like the creatures Zak had described.
Uncle Hoole turned just as the zombie came within reach. Instinctively
the Shi'ido threw up the shovel he was holding to ward off the ghoulish-
looking creature. The shovel slammed against the zombie's head, but it didn't
seem to notice. It grabbed Hoole with both arms and squeezed so hard that the
scientist gasped.
"Uncle Hoole!" Tash cried, taking a step forward.
"Stay... back!" Hoole grunted. "It's too strong." Hoole felt the air
being forced from his lungs. He took as deep a breath as he could, and closed
his eyes. His entire body started to wriggle, and the zombie squeezed tighter.
But Hoole was no longer there. The zombie found itself holding a slippery
water eel that thrashed wildly until it shot from the undead monster's arms.
It landed on the ground with a slap and shape-shifted back into Hoole. The
zombie roared and lumbered forward once more.
"Tash, run!" Uncle Hoole ordered.
Tash didn't argue. She turned and started to run, but in front of her a
grave suddenly broke open like a cracking egg. A clawing white hand reached
out of the ground and ice-cold fingers wrapped themselves around her ankle.
Tash stomped on the arm with her free foot, but the zombie was unaffected by
pain. With its free hand, it continued to dig its way up from beneath the
ground. Tash could see its dead face, still half-buried, leering up at her
from the hole in the ground.
Uncle Hoole dropped to his knees beside her, using both hands to pry the
zombie's fingers away from Tash. But the creature was incredibly strong, and
even together they could not break its grip.
"What are we going to do?" Tash gasped.
Hoole tried to remain calm, but even he looked worried. "Try to use our
heads," he answered.
Hoole stood up and turned to the other zombie, which was staggering
toward them. The Shi'ido made himself an easy target, standing just to the
side of Tash in front of the second zombie's grave. Growling, the first zombie
lunged forward to grab him, but once again Hoole shape-shifted-into the tiny
Ranat form he'd taken before. The lunging zombie stumbled right over him and
fell headlong into the second grave. The two undead creatures both howled,
struggling with each other, and Tash pulled her leg free.
Hoole, now back in his own shape, helped Tash to her feet and they
started toward the exit.
"By the stars!" Uncle Hoole swore.
Tash was startled. She had never seen Uncle Hoole lose his composure. But
in the next moment, she saw why.
All around them the ground was churning. Massive headstones collapsed or
sank into the ground as the creatures below struggled to reach the surface.
Hundreds of graves were on the verge of breaking open, spilling forth their
buried inhabitants.
The city of the dead was coming back to life.
Tash and Uncle Hoole had no choice but to run through the mass of
writhing graves.
At first their escape seemed easy. It took the zombies several minutes to
dig their way to the surface.
Groping hands and arms snatched at Tash and Hoole from the graves. Tash
shuddered-it looked like a horrible garden of fingers, arms, and hands planted
in the ground.
Before long they could see figures rising up in the mist before them.
Farther along, the zombies had had more time to free themselves, and between
them and the gates lay an army of the undead.
"Zak was right!" Tash yelled to Hoole. "The dead are coming back! How can
this be?"
Hoole panted for breath as he ran. "I don't know. Yet."
They plunged into the mist.
The zombies were relentless and incredibly strong, but they were slow.
Twitching and staggering, they closed in on their two targets. Uncle Hoole and
Tash slipped away from them or ducked under their arms. To Tash it seemed like
some twisted version of the games of touchball she and Zak had played with
their parents at home.
Tash was tall for her age, but she was limber and quick and able to dodge
the pursuing creatures. Twice Hoole was grabbed, and twice he shape-shifted
out of the zombies' clutches. But more and more zombies came after them out of
the mist, and escape looked impossible until they saw a row of iron bars
before them.
"The gates!" Uncle Hoole said. "We've made it!"
Tash gasped as a zombie nearly grabbed her by the neck. She slipped away
and dashed for the gate, followed closely by her uncle.
The gates were ajar, and they slipped through, slamming the doors behind
them. Zombies surged toward the gates, pulling at the iron bars.
Tash and Hoole had escaped the cemetery. They didn't wait to see if the
gate would hold the zombies back. They ran headlong down one of the city's
cobblestoned avenues. Only when they were far from the graveyard did they
pause to catch their breath.
Tash's heart still had not stopped pounding when the noise of a crowd
reached her ears. People, many people, were surging toward them from a nearby
street. Angry words were shouted in their direction.
"What's going on?" she asked.
Hoole frowned. "That is a mob. And Pylum is leading it."
The Master of Cerements led the mob right to Hoole and Tash. As they
approached, Hoole shouted, "This place isn't safe! Something terrible is
happening at the cemetery. Corpses are coming back to life."
Pylum scowled and jabbed a bony finger their way. "We know. And it's all
your fault!"
CHAPTER 18
Pylum's eyes glinted angrily. "The dead are rising all over the city!
Corpses walk the streets. People are fleeing in terror. And you caused it!"
The angry mob shouted its agreement with Pylum.
"We didn't do anything!" Tash protested.
The Master of Cerement
s pointed to the cemetery. "Your brother offended
the dead by entering the cemetery, and now you two have followed him. You have
brought the Curse of Sycorax down on our heads."
Hoole shook his head. "There has to be a more reasonable explanation for
this than some ancient curse. I'm sure we can find a solution for this problem
if we work together."
"See, see!" Pylum screeched, turning to the mob of Necropolitans. "They
ignore our ancient laws! They trample our sacred ground. I warned you that
this might happen, and now it has!"
"What can we do?" one of the Necropolitans pleaded. "Pylum, please help
us."
Pylum raised himself up to his full height and proclaimed, "I am the
Master of Cerements. I have read the ancient laws. The dead will not be
appeased until the offenders have been punished. They must be taken to the
Crypt of the Ancients!"
"Wait!" Hoole yelled in a commanding voice. "You can't possibly believe
that we are responsible for this. We must work together!"
But his words were drowned out by the cries of the mob. The Necropolitans