Part 9 (1/2)

For every credit it's short, I'll take a kilo of meat from you.”

”So, I'd be a fool,” Cindar said with a grin.

Cohl nodded. ”You'd be a fool.” Rella handed the remote to Havac, and Cindar closed the lid on the lockbox.

”Where's the aurodium going?” Cohl asked mildly.

Havac looked surprised. ”Captain, did I ask what you're planning to do with your payment?” Cohl smiled. ”Fair enough.” Following the exchange, Rella turned to Cohl.

”I'm sure he plans to donate it to his favorite charity.” Havac laughed.

”You're not far off the mark.”

”Here's another bonus for you, Havac,” Cohl said. ”We had some unexpected trouble at Dorvalla. Someone infiltrated the Revenue using the same technique we used. They hid a s.h.i.+p inside a cargo pod, just like we did.

They tracked us when we left the freighter and came close to ruining what I thought was a secure plan.

Their s.h.i.+p turned out to be a Judicial Department Lancet.” Havac and Cindar traded surprised looks.

”Judicials?” Havac said. ”At Dorvalla, of all places?” Cohl watched them carefully. ”Actually, I think they were Jedi.” Havac's incredulity increased. ”Why do you think that?”

”Call it a hunch. The point is, no one was supposed to know about that operation.” Havac sat back in his seat, perplexed. ”Now it's my turn to wonder, Captain. What are you asking me?”

”Who else in the Nebula Front knew about the operation?” Cindar snorted in derision. ”Think it through, Cohl. Why would any of us sabotage our own campaign?”

”That's what I'm asking,” Cohl said. ”It could be that not everyone down below agrees with your methods--your hiring us, for example. Someone could have been trying to sabotage you, not me.” Havac nodded. ”Thank you, Captain. I'll bear that in mind.” He paused briefly, then said, ”What's next for you two?”

”We thought we'd retire from mayhem,” Rella said, taking hold of Cohl's left hand at the same time. ”Maybe take up moisture farming.” Havac grinned. ”I can see that. The two of you on Tatooine or somewhere, living among banthas and dewbacks. It's just your style.”

”Why the curiosity?” Cohl said.

Havac's grin straightened. ”We may have something big in the works.

Something perfectly suited to your talents.” He glanced at Rella, then back at Cohl. ”It would pay enough to guarantee your retirement.” Rella shot Cohl a warning look. ”Don't listen to him, Cohl. Let someone else hire out to the Nebula Front.” She cut her eyes to Havac. ”Besides, we plan to retire in high style.”

”You want to retire rich?” Cindar said. ”Buy a Neimoidian for what he's worth, then sell him for what he thinks he's worth.”

”The job I have in mind would allow you to retire in high style,” Havac baited.

”Cohl,” Rella said, ”are you going to tell these guys to take a hike back to their own s.h.i.+p, or do I have to do it?” Cohl let go of her hand and tugged at his beard.

”It can't hurt to hear them out.”

”Yes, it can, Cohl, yes, it can.” He looked at her, then laughed shortly.

”Rella's right,” he told Havac. ”We're not interested.” Havac heaved his shoulders and stood up, extending his hand to Cohl. ”Come and see us if you have a change of heart.” Much closer to the Core, the Acquisitor had returned home. Sullen Neimoidia rotated slowly beneath the ring-shaped freighter. As was the case in the far-off Senex system, meetings of a sinister sort were under way; discussions centered around weapons and strategy, destruction and death. But the s.h.i.+ps that had brought the Acquisitor' ”s guests had had no need to sidle up to airlocks. Not when the hangar arms themselves were commodious enough to conceal an invasion army.

In zone two of the port arm, balanced atop his claw-footed mechno-chair, sat Viceroy Nute Gunray, in rich burgundy robes and triple-crested tiara.

Off to Gunray's right stood legal counsel Rune Haako and Deputy Viceroy Hath Monchar; and to Gun - ray's left, the Acquisitor's new commander, smallish Daultay Dofine, fresh from the debacle at Dorvalla and still bewildered by his unexpected promotion.

In the center of the hangar floor hunkered a double-winged behemoth, which bore a vague resemblance to Neimoidia's gauzy - winged needle fliers.

Ponderously exiting the wide-open jaws of the behemoth's foot ramp rode thickly armored, russet-colored vehicles that might have been modeled on charging banthas-- backs humped in anger, huffing clouds of hot exhaust, laser cannons extended like tusks. And behind those came droid-operated repulsorlift tanks, with shovel-shaped prows and top-mounted gun turrets.

Prototype war machines, the gargantuan landing craft, the monstrous mult.i.troop transports, and the sleekly styled tanks had been designed and built by Haor Chall Engineering and Baktoid Armor, whose alien representatives were standing in full view of Gunray and beaming with pride.

To Haor Chall, especially, design perfection amounted to a religious edict.

”Behold, Viceroy,” Haor Chall's insectoid representative said, gesturing with all four arms to the closest transport, whose circular deployment hatch, hinged at the top, was just swinging open.

Gunray watched in amazement as a rack telescoped from the hatch and dozens of battle droids unfolded themselves before his eyes.

”And this, Viceroy,” Baktoid's winged representative added.

Gunray's red eyes moved back to the landing craft in time to see a dozen airhooks soar toward the upper reaches of the hangar arm. Blade-thin vehicles with twin footrests and top-mounted blasters, all were piloted by droids, whose backward leaning postures made them appear to be hanging on to the slender handlebars for dear life.

Gunray was speechless.

While he had never seen their like, in each of the prototypes he recognized elements of the very machines the Trade Federation had employed for centuries in transporting natural resources and other commodities. In the fuselage of the double-winged landing craft, for example, he recognized the Federation's narrow ore barge. But Haor Chall had set the fuselage on a pedestal and capped it with two enormous wings, presumably kept from sagging by powerful tensor fields.

Despite the animistic look Baktoid had imparted to the troop transports, Gunray recognized the Trade Federation's own repulsorlift cargo pod, built on an even more gargantuan scale. As for the folding battle droids and the Single Trooper Aerial Platforms, they were simply variations of Baktoid's security droids, and Longspur and Alloi's Bespin airhooks.

But one thing was clear: everything he was being shown spoke less to s.p.a.ceborne defense than to groundside deployment. The realization was more than Gunray could absorb; more than he wished to absorb.

”As you have probably observed, Viceroy,” Haor ChalPs representative was saying, ”the Trade Federation already has most of the raw materials needed to create your army.” He motioned to the representative from Baktoid. ”In partners.h.i.+p with Baktoid, we can convert your security and worker droids to battle models, and your barges and cargo pods to landing craft.”

”More units, less money,” the Baktoid representative added.

”Best of all, since the components of the landing crafts can be stored in various places--wings, fuselages, and pedestals-- they can be a.s.sembled at a moment's notice. You could place one landing craft in each of a hundred freighters, or a hundred landing craft in but one of your freighters--for singularly th.o.r.n.y circ.u.mstances. Either way, none who come aboard to inspect your freighters will comprehend what they are seeing. As our mutual friend says, you will have an army without giving the appearance of having an army.”

”Mutual friend,” Rune Haako muttered, just loudly enough for Gunray to hear. ”When Darth Sidious says do this, it is performed.”

”We enjoy dealing with Neimoidians,” Baktoid's representative stepped forward to say, ”because of the enthusiasm and awe you demonstrate for our creations. Therefore, we have other weapons in mind for you: starfighters that will no longer have to rely on droid pilots, but will themselves answer to a central control computer.

”You may even wish to contact the Colicoids of Colla IV, who are rumored to have developed a combat droid capable of rolling to its destinations.”

The alien gestured broadly to the immense hangar. ”Perfect for covering the vast distances inside your freighters, and defending against boarding parties.” Gunray heard Dofine swallow audibly, but, once more, it was Haako who spoke.

”This is madness,” he said, lowering his voice and limping closer to the mechno-chair. ”Are we merchants, or are we would - be conquerors?”

”You heard Darth Sidious,” Gunray hissed. ”These weapons will ensure that we remain merchants. They are our guarantee that groups like the Nebula Front or mercenaries like Captain Cohl will never again risk going against us. Ask Commander Dofine. He'll tell you.”

”Darth Sidious keeps us in servile tearfulness,” Haako said, blinking repeatedly.

”What can we do, otherwise? Instead of honoring our request for additional defenses, the senate threatens us with taxation. We need to take matters into our own hands if we are to protect our cargos. Or would you have us continue to lose s.h.i.+ps to terrorists, in addition to losing profits to taxation?”

”But the other members of the directorate--his”

”For the time being, they are to not to know anything of this. We will apprise them of these things gradually.”