Star Wars: Shadow Games (28 page)

“The kid,” whispered Dash, “is part of our cover, remember? We’re
your
crew,
Captain
Solo.”

“Oh … yeah.” Han didn’t seem overly happy to be reminded of the fact. “Well, you going or what?”

Dash led the others to the corner and ordered a round of drinks. He insulted Nik by offering him fruit juice.

“Rearrange the modules?” Arno D’Vox didn’t bat an eyelash.

“I realize it’s a lot to ask. But it’s the only way I can think of to give you the full Javul Charn experience.”

“I can think of other ways.”

“I’ll bet you can.” She gave him the full assault of her silver eyes. She wasn’t vain, but she knew the effect they could have on a man’s viscera. She’d had any number of men tell her all about it.

His smiled deepened. “To be perfectly honest, it’s really not that difficult to rearrange the modules. How many would you need to have in formation?”

She thought of the way the modules were currently
arranged. The one she needed was closest to the control module, but better safe than sorry. She could’ve done with three, but … “Four? Is that too much to ask?”

“For you, not at all.” D’Vox laid his napkin on the table and stood. “In fact, let’s go up to my office and I can show you what I can do.”

Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of
.

She went reluctantly, praying to the Cosmos that Red Rishyk would interrupt their stroll. He didn’t, and some minutes later Arno D’Vox was ushering her into his office—a private office, attached to his suite of rooms. It looked more like a lounge than an office, in fact. There was a desk with holoconsole, a bar, and a seating area that faced a curving transparisteel window.

Oh, joy
.

He surprised her, though, by actually leading her to the holodisplay where he called up a schematic of the station. In mere seconds an image of the station’s tactical aspects was laid out, depicting the entire grouping of tank clusters. Module 4B was tethered lower and to the east by a couple of klicks; other modules floated to the south, southwest, and north farther away, but at about the same altitude as the control module.

“How do you move them?” Javul asked, only half feigning her interest. The huge structures were an amazement to her. “For that matter, how do you keep them up?”

D’Vox laughed, showing even white teeth. “It’s a combination of the planetoid’s relatively low gravity and thick atmosphere combined with antigravity and booster technology. Moving them is a matter of moving the other end of the tether and navigating the module to its new location.”

Javul widened her eyes. “Sounds complicated.”

“Not really. Huge modified construction droids handle the ground work on the tethers in sync with our navigational systems.” He paused to study the situation for a
moment, then said: “What if we move these three units—” He tapped each holographic image with the tip of a finger. They each lit with a soft green halo. “Here, here, and here?” He dragged them into place one at a time. “Will that do?”

Javul stared at the reconfiguration. Or rather, she stared at Module 4B, still floating alone in its place two klicks to the east. “Oh … yes, it should be perfect, but wouldn’t it make more sense to move that one? I mean, it’s closer, isn’t it?”

He didn’t seem to think her question odd. “Closer, yes, but it contains fewer habitat units and the superstructure doesn’t have as much viewing space. Besides which, you’ll note that it’s sitting lower than the other modules.”

“Uh-huh …”

“It’s the cargo load … and the fact that its tanks have just been refilled.”

“Oh, so moving that one would be more difficult, I guess.”

“Very much so.”

Great
. She wondered feverishly how she might contact Dash and let him know that Station Commander D’Vox had just changed up the logistical landscape. Aloud, she said: “Well, this looks perfect to me, Arno. How do you make it happen?”

“I have but to give the command. The whole move should be complete within two hours.”

“You don’t have to ask permission or inform the appropriate authorities?”

“I’m the commander of this facility, Javul. I
am
the appropriate authority. I don’t ask permission—I give it.” Suiting action to words, he thumbed on his comlink. “This is D’Vox. Give me the C and C duty officer.”

“Lieutenant Ashel here, sir.”

“I have new coordinates for module configuration
that I’ll be sending down. Check them for any logistical issues and implement after issuing standard warnings.”

“Sir? This isn’t a scheduled maneuver—”

“Yes, I know. It’s a special request.” He looked aside at Javul. “A
very
special request.”

“Yessir. I’ll start proceedings upon receipt of the new coordinates.”

“They’re on their way.” He cut the connection and smiled at Javul.

She smiled back. “Thank you, Arno. I will try not to disappoint.”

He shifted closer, looming over her and making her feel small and vulnerable. “I don’t think you could disappoint.”

Her smile was coquettish. “Such a flatterer.”

He was wearing some sort of smoky-smelling cologne that made her feel light-headed. A pheromonic concoction, she was willing to bet.

She took a small step backward. “Does your office have a refresher? I need to … tidy up.”
And figure out how to get away from you
.

He gestured toward a doorway to his left and Javul escaped through it. Once locked inside the smaller chamber, she did a quick visual scan for surveillance cams. She saw none—which didn’t mean they weren’t there—but she did notice that there was a connecting door to the suite D’Vox had given her. The urge to bolt through it was stronger than she cared to admit. Suppressing it, she got out her comlink and palmed it as she made a pretense of washing her hands and primping.

After half an hour waiting for Han to finish “negotiating,” Dash was fed up. He didn’t realize how fed up until Leebo leaned toward him and stage-whispered: “Hey, boss, I had no idea humans were steam-powered.”

“What?”

“There’s steam coming out of your ears.”

Nik sniggered. Mel merely smiled into his drink.

“If Han’s behavior bothers you so much,” said Eaden reasonably, “why don’t you go ask him to expedite his negotiations?”

Dash shoved his tankard of Corellian spiced ale—his
second
tankard of Corellian spiced ale—away from him, half consumed. “Y’know what? I’m gonna do just that.”

He got up and crossed to the bar. It was perfectly clear that the negotiation phase of the proceedings was over and they were entering the social phase. Han was telling jokes.

“A Wookiee and an Ewok walk into a cantina, see—”

Dash tapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve heard this one. The punch line is ‘I was talking to the Wookiee.’ ”

The Wookiee threw back her head and made a sound like metal bending. The Advozse scratched the base of his sagittal horn and said, “What? What? I don’t get it.”

“We need to move this along,” Dash told Han. “We have other business to transact.”

“Hey, if it doesn’t pay, it’s not business.”

“She’s already paying you, nerf-for-brains.”

“I’m just doing a little on the side. You got a problem with that?”

“I do if it—” His comlink pinged. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Dash moved to the end of the cantina’s long, gleaming black bar and opened the link.

Javul emerged from the refresher to find that D’Vox had poured drinks. She regarded the glass of amber liquid he handed her skeptically. “What’s this?”

“It’s called ambrostine. It’s sweet and rich—like you.”

Ambrostine. Yeah
—
sweet, rich, and potent
. She’d heard all about the stuff from Dara. It reduced inhibitions to zero—something Javul knew she couldn’t afford. Beyond
whatever personally repugnant situation she might find herself in, it was what she might say about her connection with the Rebellion that frightened her the most.

She took the glass gingerly, stalling. Any moment now (she hoped) Dash would comm her and tell her there was a problem with the holo-emitter setup and that she needed to weigh in on it. And right now, too, or they’d be behind schedule and would never mount a performance by the following evening.

She smiled at D’Vox; he’d just proposed a salute to something. “To our …” she began.

“Mutual admiration,” he finished.

She put the glass to her lips and sipped. The ambrostine was like fiery honey. She held it on her tongue as long as she could, pretending to savor it, before swallowing the tiny mouthful. It burned all the way down—not unpleasantly. Not at all.

“Come sit down,” he said and put a hand to her arm to draw her to the plush divan that afforded a view of space from between two of the module’s fuel tanks.

Blast Dash Rendar! Where is he?

She took a step toward the divan and was chilled to discover that the ambrostine was already making her feel light-headed. Or was it his karking pheromone-laden cologne? She moved with slow, calculated grace, trailing D’Vox and making him turn back to watch her walk. The expression in his eyes might have been welcome at another time—in other eyes. At this moment, in
his
eyes, it was terrifying.

She sat. He sat.

His door chime rang.

Javul started. Had Dash decided to appear in person to cart her away? She hoped not. As capable as he was in some ways, she doubted that his skills ran to acting. In fact, one of the things she most liked about him was the way he felt his emotions all the way out to his skin.

D’Vox stood, swearing, and rounded the divan to face the door. “Come!”

The door opened, but it wasn’t Dash who entered. It was Security Chief Rishyk. His face—not all that pleasant to look at in any situation—was screwed into a scowl of epic proportions.

“Did you give the order to move the blasted rigs into a square?” he asked before D’Vox could ask why he’d come.

“Of course I gave the order. Who else would give it?”

“D’you realize how many fuel ports that cuts off? Are you aware that you’ve got three Imperial tankers queued up in low orbit, waiting to refuel?”

From her perch on the couch, Javul could see the back of D’Vox’s neck flush a deep, angry red. “Refueling is my responsibility, not yours. This has nothing to do with security.”

“The hell it doesn’t! You get those Imperial captains in an uproar and they’ll want to investigate us up one side and down the other.”

Javul stood suddenly and turned to face the two men. “I should …” The look she got from Rishyk made her stomach twist. “… leave you to your conversation,” she finished, then moved swiftly to the door, wishing she didn’t have go past Rishyk to get there.

“Javul, stay,” said D’Vox, putting out a hand to stop her. “This will only take a moment.”

“The hell it will!” snarled Rishyk. “Does
she
have something to do with this asinine maneuver?”

“What if she does? I’m commander of this facility, Security Chief Rishyk. I suggest you try not to forget that.”

Javul made it to the door and paused a beat to offer a parting shot. “Let me know if you’re not going to be able to make that change.” She glanced at Rishyk, looking him swiftly up and down. “I’ll understand if you can’t.”

She dodged out the door then, hoping she’d said just
enough to ensure that D’Vox would go ahead with the reconfiguration out of sheer ego. It was no longer important to the retrieval of the container, but they might be able to use the opportunity to move the
Millennium Falcon
to a new dock.

Out in the corridor, Javul quickly rounded the corner, dashed into her suite, and collapsed against the wall. Her comlink beeped.

“You’re a little late,” she told Dash.

“What? What do you mean, I’m a little late? You don’t mean—” The cantina seemed suddenly stiflingly hot.

“I mean I had to take another opportunity to leave. I suspect that D’Vox and Rishyk are circling each other like a couple of rancors in bloodlust right now, arguing over the reconfiguration.”

That was a relief. “Rishyk thinks it’s a bad idea, does he?”

“Ha. You could say that. He came in snarling and snapping like a boarwolf. I think D’Vox is going to go for it, though—his male ego’s got its back up. And I hope it will give us an excuse to move the
Falcon.
”

“And if it doesn’t?”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “I’m counting on you, Captain Rendar.”

An idea struck him between the eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m counting on Han.”

He signed off and returned to where Han was still trading jokes with the Wookiee and her partner.

“… So he says to the Baragwin, ‘Hey! Why the long face?’ ”

This time it was the Advozse who laughed so hard he nearly choked on his drink. Dash helped the alien by pounding on his back for a few seconds, then asked, “So Captain, what’s going down with this deal? Where’re we going to make the drop?”

Han looked at him. “What drop?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Captain, there are Imperials all over the place. It would be in our customer’s interests to be discreet.”

The Wookiee said something, to which Han replied, “Of course I’m discreet. I’m
always
discreet.” To Dash he said, “What’d you have in mind?”

W
HETHER
D’V
OX WON HIS SNARLING MATCH WITH
Rishyk or pulled rank on him, the result was that the four great clusters of fuel tanks were pulled carefully toward one another. Mel and Nik moved to oversee the setup of the holographic equipment and piece scenery. Han and his “crew,” meanwhile, prepared to pilot the
Millennium Falcon
over to Module 4B, where they had instructed their customers to reserve a section of storage compartment 19 for their “delivery.”

“You don’t have to move the ship,” D’Vox told Dash when he announced their plans. “It’s perfectly safe where it is.”

“Yeah, well, Captain Solo is—shall we say—a little paranoid about his ship’s well-being. Besides we’ve got some cargo to off-load.”

“Really?” D’Vox’s eyes betrayed sudden curiosity. “As part of the show?”