Star Wars: The Old Republic: Fatal Alliance (14 page)

"Yes,
sir. "

The
security detail moved respectfully out of earshot.

"Not
your usual?" said Jet with a sly smile.

Ula
normally didn't drink at all, but he wasn't about to admit that. "I
can get word to my superior, if you want to arrange an extraction,
but..."

"That's
not why I invited you here. I just think someone should know what
really happened to the Cinzia in Wild Space that day. "

Ula's
curiosity was roused by that. "I've already heard the recording
and seen the data. Are you telling me there's more?"

"Much
more. Drink up and listen. "

So
began a long and rambling tale about rivalry and betrayals among
smugglers. Ula paid close attention at first. Jet had been worse than
a smuggler: he had been a privateer hired by the Republic to scour
the fringes of the inner galaxy for theft-worthy materiel to assist
the Republic cause. That was interesting for two reasons. It
confirmed reports suggesting that the Republic did indeed engage in
this inglorious tactic. It also showed how easily the objects up for
auction could have fallen right into the Republic's possession. The
intervention of the Hutts had, for once, worked to the Empire's
advantage.

Ula
felt a little discomfited by that. He believed that civilized society
should never allow such decadence and corruption to thrive. That the
Republic traded with the likes of Tassaa Bareesh was evidence, if he
needed it, of his enemy's invalidity to rule-but what did it say
about the Empire if he allowed it to profit by similar means?

As
Jet talked on, Ula's attention began to drift. Who cared about the
invidious Shinqo and whether he had been allowed to leave the palace
or not? What did it matter if Jet Nebula felt poorly used by his new
masters, who had no intention of sharing the massive profit they were
bound to make from the auction with anyone else? Why was he wasting
his time on such a self-absorbed, self-pitying display?

Sip
by sip, Ula worked his way through the drink. Jet didn't appear to be
touching his much, and that puzzled him, distantly. By the time the
smuggler finished describing the sad end of the Cinzia, Ula's
eyesight was beginning to get a little fuzzy.

"Say
that again, " he said, finding it strangely hard to keep his
elbow planted on the table. "Something about diplomomo-ah,
diplomats. "

"They
were on a diplomatic mission. I asked them who to, and they didn't
answer. Doesn't it make you wonder? Both the Republic and the Empire
are bidding for information on where these people came from and what
they were carrying. If the crew of the Cinzia weren't coming to talk
to either of you, who were they coming to talk to?"

That
was an interesting point. Ula filed it away to think about later,
when the floor stopped wobbling.

"Then
there's the explosion. "

"What
about the explosion?"

"Well,
it was a bit overdramatic, wasn't it? But at the same time, it wasn't
very effective. You'd think if they really wanted to make the point,
if they'd cared enough to kill themselves, they'd have gone out of
their way to do it right. "

"You
would think so. You would, " Ula agreed. "But what if they
argued? What if not everyone wanted to be blown up? I wouldn't want
to be. "

"That's
a good point. Envoy Vii, " Jet said. "I hadn't thought of
that. "

Ula
was developing a strong liking for Jet Nebula, despite the fact that
he appeared to have grown an extra head. "Another round?"

"Wait,
" said the smuggler, sitting up straight all of a sudden.
"Something's not right. "

Ula
looked around. It had become very quiet without him noticing. The
Zelosian band was making no noise anymore. The cantina's patrons had
all slumped over their tables. Some of them were actually snoring
into their drinks. Even the bartender was sprawled across the
counter, twitching slightly.

As
he watched, Sergeant Potannin sagged forward and fell bonelessly to
the floor.

That
couldn't be right, Ula thought. Since when did anyone in a security
detail get drunk?

"Obah
gas!" Jet was on his feet with a blaster in his hand. "Clunker!"

The
battered droid came instantly to the smuggler's side, its
photoreceptors glowing bright.

"Good.
Keep an eye on the door. I'm going to..."

A
sharp crack came from behind them. The droid tottered, enveloped in
bright blue bolts of energy. A whining noise came from its innards.
It froze, a restraining bolt projecting from the side of its head.

"Don't
move, Nebula, " called a vocoder-enhanced voice from Ula's
right.

Ula
turned in time to see a section of the ceiling fall away. The head
and shoulders of a Mandalorian projected from the hole. The rifle he
held was aimed squarely at Jet's chest.

"Stay
where you are, Envoy Vii. This doesn't involve you. Put the blaster
down, Nebula-now. "

The
smuggler obeyed. "If you wanted to cut in, all you had to do was
ask. "

With
an elegantly muscular flip, the Mandalorian landed feetfirst on the
floor below him. "Your droid will recover. So will the
bystanders. I used enough gas to knock them out, no more. "

"Lucky
we were drinking Reactor Cores, " Jet said. "Why do you
think smugglers order them so much? They taste awful, but they grant
immunity to all sorts..."

"Enough
talk, " said the Mandalorian, indicating with the rifle's
business end that Jet should step out from behind the table.

"Are
you at least going to tell us who you are?" asked the smuggler.

"I
know, " said Ula, although he was still struggling to think
through the narcotic drink. "You're Dao Stryver. What is it you
want with Lema Xandret, exactly?"

The
Mandalorian's attention turned squarely to him, and suddenly Ula felt
completely sober.

"You,
too, " said Stryver, swinging the rifle. "You're both
coming with me. "

"Or
what?" Jet asked.

"You
don't want to know 'or what. ' Get moving. "

Too
late Ula remembered the hold-out weapon in his pocket. He staggered
to his feet and was propelled at blasterpoint from the cantina, Jet
Nebula gray-faced at his side.

CHAPTER
10

The
sight of a distinctively rounded, low-chinned helmet brought Larin to
an abrupt halt. With an urgent wave of her hand to signal to Shigar
to stay under cover, she backpedaled into a crowded corridor and
stayed there until the Mandalorian went safely by.

A
second glance told her that it wasn't Dao Stryver. This one's armor
was silver and blue, not gray and green, and Stryver was both taller
and more massive. People moved out of the way.

She
grabbed a passerby at random. "Who was that?" she asked,
indicating the receding helmet.

"Only
Akshae Shanka, " said the mousy Evocii, as though she were an
idiot. "Stay away from him, if you know what's good for you.
He's come second in two separate Great Hunts. "

"And
I bet that hasn't improved his mood, " Larin muttered as the
slave hurried away. While the Mandalorians waited for the next big
war to break out, they amused themselves by ritual fighting among
themselves, drawing in anyone foolish enough to show an interest in
their violent ascendancy games. They were dangerous and unpredictable
in all things except one: having returned to the galaxy during the
Great War, they weren't going to slink away again anytime soon.

Larin
waited a full minute to make sure Shanka didn't come back, then she
moved back out into the flow of the main branch and waved for Shigar
to follow.

They
were following information gleaned from one of the palaces chefs. Two
high-security visitors-the Republic and Imperial envoys, Larin and
Shigar assumed-were being housed in one of the luxury wings deep in
the heart of the rambling structure. It was difficult to get into
those parts of the palace, but they'd learned of a shaft connecting
the underlying service routes-like the one they were following at the
moment-and the high-security basements. Getting from one to the other
was taking time, but thus for it wasn't proving to be especially
difficult.

Larin
led the way, following the map she had memorized and keeping her eyes
firmly forward. Shigar was hard on her heels, somewhere; she was sure
of that, although she couldn't see him. He walked as lightly as an
Alderaanian swan and vanished into a crowd like a puff of smoke. When
she stopped at the next junction to check her bearings, he simply
appeared beside her, as if from nowhere.

"Almost
there, " he said. "I'll take point for the next leg. "

"All
right, " she said. "But I've been thinking: why are we
going this way in the first place? Shouldn't our priority be the
vault?"

"It
would be, if we knew where it is. When we reach one of the envoys,
then we'll have our guide. We know they've both seen it. Asking the
right people is always better than asking at random. "

She
heartily agreed with that. They'd learned a lot by mingling with the
palace's downtrodden staff, but every important piece of information
they had gathered came with a wealth of worthless trivia. Sorting the
one out from the other had taken more time than either of them would
have liked.

"After
you, " she said, waving him ahead of her. It was her turn to
trail after now. A pair of people walking side by side always drew
more attention than individuals in a crowd. Surrounded by unknown
serfs and servants, they blended in, passed by, and were instantly
forgotten. That was something Akshae Shanka would never manage.

*
* *

They
reached the entrance to the subterranean shaft without incident.
There, Larin tripped a passing Gamorrean into a heavily laden Evocii,
and during the resulting distraction Shigar activated his lightsaber
and cut through the door's massive security bolt. Rusty hinges
groaned as he swung the door open; no one noticed over the shouts and
recriminations. The argument was barely reaching its peak when Larin
crept in after him. Together they pulled the massive door closed.

It
was much quieter on the other side, and darker, too. Shigar took a
deep breath, glad to be out of the multispecies press and the poverty
they endured. He had glimpsed the luxuries lavished on those at the
top of the social pyramid on Hutta. He knew what privileges they
enjoyed. All around him was the cost, in filth and sentient misery.

That
the underbelly of Coruscant was exactly the same gave him some pause
in blaming the Hutts. Perhaps it was simply the nature of things.
Perhaps Master Nobil's rebuke was well earned. How could the Jedi
Order change something that had endured for millennia? It wasn't the
Council's brief, not when the Emperor's wolves were snapping at the
galaxy's throat.

A
taint yellow light flared into life. "Straight ahead, then left,
wasn't it?"

Larin's
voice echoed sibilantly in the miles of metal pipe ahead of them. By
the light of her blaster rifle's utility torch, he raised one finger
to his lips and nodded. She rolled her eyes and said, "There's
no one down here. That's what we were told. "

He
shook his head and indicated that it was her turn to lead. Better not
to take any chances, he thought.

Larin
moved off at a cautious lope through the tunnel. The pipe was dry and
empty, and easily large enough for them to stand upright. They could
have run side by side if they'd wanted to. Occasionally the ceiling
was interrupted by pipes and clusters of cables, forcing them to
duck, and on two occasions they had to jump across a shaft, but apart
from that there were no interruptions.

They
reached the junction in fifteen minutes. As Larin approached, Shigar
reached out for her shoulder. With a firm grip, he pulled her to a
halt.

She
looked at him inquiringly. He put one hand over the rifle's lamp,
extinguishing the light.

All
was black for a moment; then a dull glow appeared. The sound of faint
movement echoed around them. Someone was in the tunnel, just around
the corner.

Shigar
moved forward, hardly daring to breathe. Through the Force, he sensed
three organisms in a cluster, but not clearly enough to identity
their intentions. If they were lying in wait, why the light? If it
wasn't a trap, why the silence?