Part 13 (1/2)

”It's not the credits that brought me back. It's the life.” He laughed bitterly. ”How does someone like me retire? What do I know about farming?” He slapped the blaster on his hip. ”This is what I know. This is how I am.” Havac swapped satisfied looks with Cindar.

”Then we're even more pleased to have you back aboard, Captain.” Cohl planted his elbows on the table. ”Then make it worth the trip.” Havac nodded. ”Maybe you haven't heard, but Supreme Chancellor Valorum intends to press for taxation of the free trade zones. If the proposal meets with Senate approval, the Trade Federation stands to see a lot of its profits end up on Coruscant. All well and good, if the Neimoidians would agree to take it on the chin, but they won't. They'll try to offset the taxes by raising the costs for s.h.i.+pping with them. Without anyone else to s.h.i.+p with, the outlying systems will have no choice but to pay whatever the Federation demands. Worlds that refuse to play by the new rules will be overlooked, and their markets will collapse.”

”Compet.i.tion will get cutthroat,” Cindar added.

”Especially hard for worlds desperate to do trade with the Core. There'll be credits galore for anyone willing to take advantage of the situation.”

Cohl gazed at the two of them and smirked.

”What's all that got to do with me? I couldn't care less what happens to either side.” Havac's gaze narrowed. ”Disinterest is exactly what this job calls for, since our goal is to change the rules.” Cohl waited.

”We want you to a.s.semble a team of spotters, trackers, and weapons experts,” Havac said.

”They have to be highly skilled, and they should share your penchant for impartiality. But I don't want to use professionals. I don't want to take the chance of their being under surveillance already, or first-choice suspects after the fact.”

”You're looking for a.s.sa.s.sins,” Cohl said.

”We're not asking you to be involved in the act,” Cindar said. ”Only the delivery. In case you need to soothe your conscience any, think of the team as a s.h.i.+pment of weapons.” Cohl's upper lip curled. ”I'll let you know when my conscience needs soothing. Who's the target?”

”Supreme Chancellor Valorem,” Havac said carefully.

”We want to strike during the trade summit on Eriadu,” Cindar elaborated.

Cohl stared at them in amus.e.m.e.nt. ”This is the major job you promised?”

Cindar spread his huge hands. ”Your a.s.sured retirement, Captain.” Cohl shook his head and laughed. ”Who put this bright idea in your head, Havac?” Havac stiffened. ”We're receiving help from a powerful outside agency, sympathetic to our cause.”

”The same one who told you about the s.h.i.+pment of aurodium.”

”The less you know, the better,” Cindar warned.

Cohl laughed again. ”Secret information, huh?” Havac's forehead wrinkled in concern. ”You don't think the job can be done?” Cohl shrugged. ”Anyone can be killed.”

”Then why are you hesitant?” Cohl blew out his breath in scorn. ”You two must take me for a furbog trader. Just because I've been chased up and down the Rimma and all over this sector doesn't mean I don't keep an ear to the background noise. You tried to kill Valorum on Coruscant, and you rumbled the job.

Now you're turning to me, which you should have done in the first place.”

Cindar returned the sneer. ”You weren't interested, remember? You were bent on a life of moisture farming on Tatooine.”

”Besides, we didn't fumble anything,” Havac said.

”We thought we could scare Valorum into inviting the Nebula Front to attend the summit. He didn't bite, so now we mean to finish the job on Eriadu. ” Cindar grinned malevolently. ”We're going to ruin his summit in a way no one will soon forget.” Cohl scratched at his beard. ”For what?

So Valorum won't tax the free trade zones?

How does that help the Nebula Front or the outlying systems?”

”I thought you weren't interested in politics,” Havac said.

”Pure curiosity.”

”All right,” Havac allowed. ”Without taxation, no worlds have to worry about increased costs. As for the Trade Federation, we'll continue to deal with them in our own way.” Cohl was unconvinced. ”You're going to cultivate a crop of new enemies, Havac--including the Jedi, if I know anything about anything. But I guess you're not paying me to think.”

”Exactly, ” Cindar made clear. ”Suppose you let us worry about the backlash.”

”Fine with me,” Cohl said. ”But let's talk about Eriadu. Because of what you pulled on Coruscant, security is going to be extra tight. No matter what you were trying to do, you've already undermined yourvs.”

”All the more reason to gather a highly skilled team,” Havac agreed.

Cohl put his hands on the table. ”I'll need a new s.h.i.+p. The Hawk-Bat is too well known.”

”Done,” Cindar promised. ”What else?” Cohl considered it briefly. ”I don't suppose you could do anything about keeping the Jedi clear of my trajectory?” Havac smiled. ”As a matter of fact, Captain, I can practically guarantee that the Jedi are going to be busy elsewhere.” the outlying systems Edging into jaded sunlight around the curve of a tiny moon, two diplomatic cruisers closed on pale-brown Asmeru. In front and to either side of the crimson Corellian s.h.i.+ps flew a dark escort of Tikiar fighters, resembling beaked and taloned predatory birds. Lagging behind, still in the shadow of the moon, came a pair of colossal dreadnaughts with fanged bows and elegantly finned sterns, p.r.i.c.kly with weapons and bearing the royal crest of House Vandron.

Light-years distant, etched into the star-strewn backdrop, loomed an immense spiral of light, attenuating toward a center of utter blackness.

Qui-Gon regarded the crazed sky from the c.o.c.kpit of the trailing cruiser.

Obi-Wan stood beside him, peering between the forward seats for a better view. The female pilot and male copilot wore the tight-fitting blue uniforms of the Judicial Department.

”Coming up on the minefield,” the pilot said while her hands were busy making adjustments to the instruments.

A scattering of glinting cylinders caught Qui-Gon's eye.

”I might have mistaken them for asteroids,” the copilot said.

Obi-Wan leaned toward him. ”Things are not always what they appear to be.

” Qui-Gon shot him a disapproving glance.

”Remember that when we are on the surface, Padawan,” he said quietly.

Obi-Wan bit back a retort and nodded.

”Yes, Master.” The copilot called up a magnified view of one of the mines. ”Command detonated,” he said over his shoulder to Qui-Gon. ”They can probably be triggered by the terrorists' sentry s.h.i.+ps or from down below.” As Qui-Gon was considering it, a female voice issued from the c.o.c.kpit annunciators.

”Prominence, this is Ecliptic.

Our escort advises that we raise deflector s.h.i.+elds and hold fast to our course. Long-range scans show three fighter craft on the far side of the minefield. We have high confidence that they are aware of us.” Qui-Gon touched Obi-Wan on the shoulder.

”It's time we rejoined the others in the salon pod.” They left the cramped c.o.c.kpit and walked aft down a narrow corridor that pa.s.sed directly through the navigator's station, the communications station, and the crew lounge. The corridor terminated at a turbolift, which they rode to the lower deck. Then they walked forward through the salon pod's vestibule and into the roomy pod itself.

Nuzzled beneath the cruiser's abrupt bow and forward sensor array, the cone-shaped pods were interchangeable and capable of providing customized atmospheres.

In emergency situations, they could be jettisoned and employed as escape vehicles. This one featured port and starboard viewports and a large circular table, with a holoprojector at its center.

”We're negotiating the minefield,” Qui-Gon said.

”Indeed we are,” Jedi Knight Ki-Adi-Mundi said from the starboard viewport.

He had a smooth, elongated skull and a piercing gaze. His chin sported a long tuft of gray hair; his upper lip, dangling gray mustachios that matched his thick eyebrows.