Star Wars: The Hand of Thrawn II: Vision of the Future Page 18

  Their wallets.

  Wedge felt his mouth drop open a few millimeters, focusing for the first time on her face. It was the same woman the two pickpockets had bumped into during their hasty getaway. “Ah, Corran?” he said, reaching out and taking the wallets from the woman’s hand. “Never mind.”

  “Wha—?” Corran demanded, the word strangling off midway as Wedge held out his wallet to him. Warily, he took it, his eyes leaving the woman just long enough to confirm that everything was still there. “May I ask how you came into possession of these?”

  The woman chuckled, shaking her head. “You CorSec people are a stitch. Do they program you for sound, or just feed you the manuals?”

  Corran glanced at Wedge. “We like to be precise,” he said, his voice cautiously offended. “And it’s former CorSec.”

  “Whatever,” she said with a shrug. “Either way, you boys ought to be more careful—those are nice family holos you’ve got in there, and I’d hate to see you lose them. Now, Wedge, how about that drink? We really do have a lot to talk about.”

  “Yes, why not?” Wedge agreed cautiously, a whole list of unpleasant possibilities running through his mind. If she fingered them to the local criminal groups—or worse, to the Vengeance organization—or even if she merely demanded a hefty reward—“You obviously already know our names. And you are …?”

  “Moranda Savich,” she said. “Sort of a second-string employee of your old friend Talon Karrde.

  “And on second thought, you two are buying.”

  The waiter droid delivered their drinks, spilling the obligatory few drops onto the carved stone table, accepted Wedge’s coin, and departed. “Chakta sai kae,” Moranda said, lifting her glass. “Did I get it right, Corran? I’ve never been sure of the proper Corellian pronunciation for that toast.”

  “Close enough,” Corran growled, lifting his gaze with obvious reluctance from the datapad and looking at Wedge. “Well?”

  Wedge shrugged. “It looked okay to me.”

  “ ‘Okay’ isn’t good enough,” Corran said darkly. “I also notice that the only way to confirm that this letter of introduction is really from Karrde would be to run the ID codes through Coruscant.”

  “So get your tails over to the New Republic liaison office and have them do that,” Moranda said, taking a long drink of the pale blue-green liqueur she’d ordered. “We aren’t exactly fat on time here, you know.”

  “Yes,” Wedge murmured, trying to read that so totally unconcerned face. “Unfortunately …”

  “Unfortunately, you can’t do that?” she suggested, peering at Wedge over her glass. “Yes, I thought so. Awkward.”

  “Why do you say that?” Corran demanded.

  “Why do I say what?” Moranda countered. “That you’re on your own, or that that’s awkward?”

  “The first,” Corran said. “You sound like you almost expected that.”

  “Oh, come on,” she said scornfully. “I did get a long look into your wallets, remember. What other conclusion is there when you’ve got your military IDs buried back behind the civilian ones?”

  “Exactly,” Corran said, fixing her with the kind of glare that Wedge decided was probably standard Corellian Security issue. “Which means you already knew we couldn’t check up on this story before you spun it for us.”

  “And what, created that on the fly?” she asked, pointing toward the datacard still in his datapad.

  “Or had it sitting in with your collection of a dozen other forgeries,” Corran shot back. “How are we supposed to know?”

  Lifting her glass, Moranda drained it. “Never mind,” she said, getting to her feet. “I assumed we were on the same side here, and thought we might be able to help each other. Apparently we can’t. Try to hold on to your wallets a little better next time.”

  Wedge looked at Corran, caught the other’s fractional nod. “Please; sit down, Moranda,” he said, half rising from his own chair and catching her arm. It felt painfully thin beneath her sleeve. “Please.”

  She paused, throwing a speculative look at each of them. Then, smiling tightly at Wedge, she resumed her seat. “A test, I presume. Did I pass?”

  “Well enough for us to at least listen some more,” Wedge told her. “Let’s start with exactly why you’re here.”

  “Presumably the same reason you are,” she said. “Karrde sees an explosion coming, with the Bothans in the middle of it, and wants to see if there are outside forces planning to squeeze the detonators.”

  “And you’re all he could spare?” Corran suggested.

  “Hardly,” Moranda said. “He’s got people all over the New Republic tracking personnel and equipment movements. Other people are sifting through every report and hint and speculation that crops up. I just happen to be the one on the ground here.”

  “With what instructions?” Wedge asked.

  Moranda nodded in the direction of the tapcafe door. “There’s a lot of firepower in orbit up there,” she said. “They could start shooting at each other anytime. But if anyone wants to take a poke at Bothawui itself, they’ll have to get rid of the planetary shields first. Karrde asked me to keep an eye on them.”

  “Is that why you were hanging around the Drev’starn generator?” Wedge asked. “Trying to see how someone might get inside?”

  “I’d already done that,” she said. “Actually, I was out there today seeing if I could spot anyone else casing the place.” She smiled maliciously. “Which is why I latched on to you two. No offense, but you stand out in a crowd like a Wookiee at a Noghri family reunion.”

  Wedge nodded as understanding struck. “Is that why you had our pockets picked? So you could find out who we were?”

  Moranda’s thin lips twitched. “As a matter of fact, no, I didn’t. I just happened to be watching when those Bothans lifted your stuff and made sure I’d be in position to lift it back from them.”

  Wedge looked at Corran. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “That someone may have noticed us,” Corran said, running a careful glance around the tapcafe. “Could be. I don’t suppose you might have any idea where those two pickpockets might have gone to ground, do you?”

  “Sorry,” Moranda said, shaking her head. “I only got here a couple of days ago and haven’t had a chance to link up with the local fringe.”

  “But you could link up with them if you wanted to?” Wedge asked, still trying to get a feel for this woman. Karrde he more or less trusted; but Karrde had a huge organization, and he couldn’t possibly know everyone in it personally. Moranda Savich could easily be playing both ends against the middle, or bleeding Karrde’s organization for her own purposes, or even just using him for free room and board whenever she was between more unsavory jobs. If someone from Vengeance, say, were to offer her a big enough pot of money to betray him and Corran, would she do it?

  Moranda sighed. “Look, Wedge,” she said quietly. “I used to do a fair amount of con work, and in con work you learn how to read people’s faces. I can tell you don’t trust me. And I really don’t blame you—we have just met, after all. But I’ve got that letter from Karrde, and I did get your wallets back. Offhand, I don’t know what else I can do to persuade you.”

  “But you do want to persuade us,” Corran said.

  She smiled, a tight, brittle thing. “I was given an assignment,” she said simply.

  Wedge suppressed a grimace. He still felt odd about this, but her arguments did seem to make sense. If anything turned up later, Corran’s Jedi senses would hopefully pick it up. “All right,” he said. “For the moment, at least, let’s pool resources. Any suggestions?”

  “Well, obviously, the first thing we need to do is find out if anyone suspicious has arrived since that orbiting research station was destroyed a week ago,” Moranda said, her tone all business now. “That’s what started this whole military buildup, after all. If Vengeance decided to take advantage of that, they may have needed to move more of their people here.”

&n
bsp; “Vengeance or anyone else,” Corran murmured. “The Empire, for example.”

  “Seems reasonable,” Wedge agreed. “There’s only one problem. That information is locked up over in the Bothawui Customs computers, and we haven’t got access to it.”

  “Oh, that’s no problem,” Moranda assured him with an airy wave of her hand. “Come on, finish up, and we’ll go to your place and talk about it.”

  “Sure,” Wedge said, taking a long sip from his as yet untouched drink and getting to his feet. Whatever happened here, he decided, this was going to be most interesting.

  Not that that was necessarily a good thing.

  “Really?” Navett said into his comlink, looking up as Klif came into the Exoticalia Pet Emporium and closed the door behind him. “Hey, that’s great. When can I come by and pick them up?”

  “Anytime you wish,” the Bothan Customs official’s voice came from the comlink. From the background came the faint sound of a sneeze. “Preferably soon,” he added.

  “You bet we will,” Navett said cheerfully. “Got customers coming in already wantin’ to see what we got, and we have to tell them we haven’t got anything yet. We can come over now, right?”

  “I believe I’ve already answered that question,” the Bothan replied as another sneeze sounded in the background.

  “Oh—right,” Navett said as Klif came over. “Great. Thanks a lot.”

  “A day of peace and profit to you.”

  “Yeah, same to you.”

  He shut the comlink off. “We’re in,” he told Klif, putting the instrument away. “And from the sneezing, I’d say at least some of the Bothans are allergic to our little polpians.”

  “Should make them eager to get rid of them,” Klif said.

  “I think it already did,” Navett agreed. “You see Horvic?”

  Klif nodded. “He and Pensin are in as maintenance staff for that Ho’Din dive two blocks back from the shield generator. Post-closing shift.”

  “Perfect,” Navett said. If their schematics were right, that tapcafe was directly over one of the underground conduits carrying power cables into the place.

  “Yeah.” Klif’s face soured. “Now for the bad news. The two Bothan lifters we hired muffed the job.”

  Navett swore. He should have known better than to trust local talent. “They get caught?”

  “According to them, the actual lift went smooth as lake ice.” Klif grimaced. “It’s just that when they got back to me, they didn’t have the wallets anymore.”

  Navett felt his eyes narrow. “What do you mean, they didn’t have them?”

  “Just what I said: they lost them. Best guess is that someone in the crowd saw them lift the wallets and returned the favor.”

  “You’re sure they didn’t just pocket the cash themselves?”

  Klif shrugged. “Not absolutely sure, no. But it’s hard to believe a pair of New Rep agents would be carrying more cash than I was offering.” He pursed his lips. “Unless, of course, they aren’t New Rep agents.”

  Navett pulled over a chair and settled thoughtfully into it. Could he have been mistaken about them?

  “No,” he answered his own question. “No, they’re New Rep, all right. Probably military, too, from the look of them. The question is, who is this new skifter who’s joined the party?”

  “You don’t think it was just another lifter taking advantage of the situation?” Klif asked.

  Navett cocked an eyebrow. “Do you?”

  “No, not really,” Klif said heavily. “Too much clanger of getting caught with the goods when the marks woke up.”

  “My point exactly,” Navett said. “No, they’ve picked up a fringe ally. A very good fringe ally, too, from the sound of it.”

  Klif hissed softly between his teeth. “We don’t have anyone to spare for a proper surveillance,” he reminded Navett. “Maybe we ought to get rid of them.”

  Navett scratched his cheek. It was a tempting suggestion. A tricky job on a tight timetable was bad enough without New Rep military agents snooping around. If they could be quietly eliminated …

  “No,” he said. “Not yet. They can’t possibly be on to us. We’ll keep an eye out, and if they seem to be taking too much interest in us we may have to do something about it. But for right now, we’ll let them be.”

  Klif’s lip twitched. “You’re the boss,” he said. “I hope you’re not making a mistake.”

  “If I am, it’s a mistake that’s easily corrected,” Navett said, standing up. “Come on. Let’s put on our earnest-but-stupid faces and go get our animals.”

  CHAPTER

  12

  From somewhere in the far distance came the warbling call of Noghri combat code. “The ship is approaching,” Barkhimkh translated. “Sakhisakh can see it.”

  “I’ll take his word for it,” Leia said. Hemmed in by the closely spaced trees that clustered on this small hill overlooking Pakrik Minor’s North Barris Spaceport, she could see precious little but greenery around her, a minuscule patch of blue sky directly above her, and the landspeeder they’d borrowed from Sabmin beneath her.

  A slightly awkward situation, in her opinion, and probably unnecessary, besides. Given that that transmission had carried Bel Iblis’s personal signature code and bridgebreak confirmation, it could be no one but the general on that incoming ship. But her Noghri guards hadn’t wanted her to show herself until the ship’s occupant was positively identified, and for the sake of their concerns she had agreed to do this their way.

  She could hear the approaching ship now. “Sounds pretty small,” she said, running through her Jedi sensory enhancement exercises to boost the distant whine into something clearer.

  “It does indeed,” Barkhimkh’s quiet agreement boomed uncomfortably loudly in her sensitized hearing. “I will observe.”

  There was the crash of a body moving through foliage, the thunderous noise fading to whispers as Leia reduced her hearing back to its normal level. In the distance she heard the whine blip up, then drop off sharply as the ship settled onto its pad and powered down.

  The sound faded away completely, and for a long minute there was nothing but the rustling of leaves around her. Leia waited, wondering what was going on out there. The grandly named spaceport was actually little more than a large open field with a handful of permacrete landing pads scattered around; it shouldn’t take this long for Sakhisakh to get over to the ship and check it out.

  Unless there was some kind of trouble. She stretched out to the Force, seeking guidance …

  And then, drifting in on the breeze, came a second Noghri battle call. “There is no danger, and we may come,” Barkhimkh said from her side, his voice slightly puzzled. “But he warns that all is not as expected.”

  Leia frowned. Not as expected? “What does that mean? Isn’t Garm there?”

  “I do not know,” Barkhimkh said, climbing into the landspeeder and keying its repulsorlifts. “I could see only that the ship was indeed small, as you had already ascertained, and that it bore no markings.”

  “No markings?” Leia asked carefully. “None?”

  “None that I could see,” Barkhimkh said again, easing the landspeeder through the trees. “Perhaps at a closer distance they will be visible.”

  Aside from a dilapidated grain freighter at the far end of the field, the newcomer was the only ship in sight. It was indeed a small vessel, probably a two-person craft, with the lines of a diplomatic shuttle but of a design Leia couldn’t remember ever having seen before. At the bow, where a diplomatic ship would have carried governmental markings, there was nothing. Midway along the side, the hatchway stood open, with a short ramp leading down from it to the permacrete. “Has Sakhisakh gone inside?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Barkhimkh answered. “He is waiting with the pilot and passenger.”

  Pilot and passenger? Leia nodded mechanically, her eyes on the ship’s bow. Now, as they neared the craft, she could see for the first time that there were indeed faint markings on the h
ull where some sort of insignia had once been.

  And even with just the outlines visible, there was something vaguely familiar about the design. Something that was triggering an equally vague but nevertheless disturbing memory …

  The landspeeder came to a stop at the ramp. “Councilor Organa Solo,” Sakhisakh called down gravely from the open hatchway. “Your visitor humbly requests the honor of your presence.”

  “Of course,” Leia said, matching the Noghri’s formal tone. Sakhisakh knew Bel Iblis quite well; who could be in there that would make him go all formal this way? “Would my visitor like to present his request in person?”

  “He would,” Sakhisakh said, bowing slightly and stepping back out of the hatchway.

  And as he did so, a new figure stepped into view. A tall humanoid, covered with soft golden down, with subtle purple markings around his eyes and shoulders. “Peace to you, High Councilor Leia Organa Solo,” he said, his voice smooth and rich, yet with an undertone of deep and ancient sadness to it. “I am Elegos A’kla, Trustant for the Caamasi Remnant. Will you join me aboard my ship?”

  Leia swallowed hard as the memories came flooding back. Her visit as a child to the secret Caamasi refugee camps on Alderaan, and the hundreds of colorful flags flying Caamasi family crests that she’d seen there.

  Crests like the one that had been removed from the bow of Elegos’s ship. “Yes, Trustant A’kla,” she said. “I would be honored.”

  “Please forgive my intrusion upon your privacy,” the Caamasi said, backing away as she started up the ramp. “I am told you and your bondmate came here for rest, and I would not normally have violated your aloneness. But I greatly wished to speak with you; and the one whom I brought with me said his errand was important to the point of terrible urgency.”

  “And that person is?” Leia asked as she stepped into the ship, stretching out with the Force. There was definitely someone else here. Someone familiar …

  “I believe you are acquainted with him,” Elegos said, stepping out of the way to the side.

  And there in a chair in the back of the room, squirming nervously under Sakhisakh’s watchful eye—