by James Luceno
groused. "I want something extra if I'm expected to hang myself out to dry."
Havac shook his head. "You'll receive the same as everyone else. We all have
important parts to play in this." "Havac's right," Lope said. "If you don't
like being the shooter, I'll take your place, and you take the rooftop
surveillance. I don't like heights, anyway." The sniper glared at Lope. "I
didn't say I wouldn't do it. I'm only asking how I'm supposed to get to the
walkways." Havac motioned one of his alien confederates forward.
The Nikto placed a suitcase atop the same crate that supported the
holoprojector and opened it. Havac lifted a jacket from the suitcase and
handed it to the sniper.
"This will identify you as Eriadu security," he explained. "I'll provide
you with the necessary documentation later. The point is, you'll be in the
summit hall before any of the delegations arrive.
Once we've learned which entrance Valorum is coming through, you'll get
into whatever position you deem best." The sniper folded the uniform jacket
over his arm.
"When do I take the shot?" "The proceedings will commence with a series
of three prolonged trumpet fanfares," Havac went on.
"Plan to fire at the start of the third fanfare." "Valorum will already
be in his seat?" Havac nodded, as he brought back the image of the interior of
the hall. "He will. But you're going to place your first bolt here." The
sniper stared at the spot on the summit hall floor Havac had indicated, then
gazed in puzzlement at Havac. "I don't get it.
Who's going to be there?" "No one." "No one," the sniper repeated, then
began to shake his head. "I don't know where you're going with this, but I've
got a reputation to uphold, and when I'm hired to shoot, I don't miss." Havac
grumbled beneath his scarf. "All right, so choose a target. Wound someone."
Lope stepped forward. "I thought we had a target- - Valorum." Havac confirmed
it with a nod and glanced at everyone.
"But I don't want any of you doing the actual shooting." While Lope and
the rest were trading looks, Havac deactivated the holoprojector and set it
aside. At the same time, a pair of Bith began to open the alloy crate the
device had been sitting on, and slid from it a boxlike tangle of alloy limbs
and a long cylinder of head.
"Meet the most important member of our team," Havac said. "Built
specially for us by the same company that supplies the Trade Federation with
its security droids." Taking a small remote control from his pocket, he
entered a code into the touchpad, and a battle droid unfolded into an upright
posture, its arms at its side and a blaster rifle mounted alongside its
backpack. The Nikto pried a restraining bolt from the chest plastron of the
alm-two-meter-tall droid and stepped to the side.
The restraining bolt hit the floor and rolled beneath the closest
repulsorsled.
Havac keved in another code.
Instantly, the droid reached over its shoulder for the blaster rifle.
With matching speed, the mercenaries reacted by adopting defensive positions
and drawing their own weapons.
"Settle down," Havac said loudly, gesturing with his hands.
Again, he keyed the remote. When the battle droid had returned the rifle
to its mounting, Havac began to circle it.
"It's harmless," he assured everyone, "unless I tell it to be otherwise."
The Gotal was the only one who hadn't reholstered his weapon. "I can't work
with a droid," he said angrily. "Their energy waves overload my senses."
"You're not going to have to work with it," Havac said.
"It's also going to be inside the hall." Lope and the sniper swapped
concerned glances.
"Who's leading him in?" Lope asked.
"The Trade Federation." The sniper worked his square jaw. "Are you
telling me that the droid is the actual shooter?" Havac nodded.
"Then why do you have me shooting at the floor?" "Because your bolt is
going to touch off a chain of events that will allow our alloy teammate here
to execute his commands." Havac regarded the droid.
"It doesn't need a control computer. But it does need to perceive a
threat before it can be tasked." Lope started shaking his head. "You want this
to end up looking like it was the Trade Federation that killed Valorum." The
rest of the mercenaries stared at Havac.
"You object to that?" "Captain Cohl said that this was going to be a
straight forward job," the sniper protested. "He didn't say anything about the
Trade Federation." "Captain Cohl wasn't briefed on the full extent of the
plan," Havac replied coolly.
"There was no point risking a leak." Lope forced a short laugh. "I guess
we can appreciate that, Havac. But the fact is, if word gets out that we
helped set up the Trade Federation..." "They've got a longer reach than the
Republic, Havac," the sniper took over. "They'll have every bounty hunter from
Coruscant to Tatooine after us.
And I, for one, don't want to have to spend the rest of my days hiding in
a hole somewhere." Havac showed everyone a stony look. "Let's be clear about
this. We're going to have to outwit Eriadu security, Republic judicials, and
Jedi Knights just to pull this off. And, sure, you might have to buy off some
bounty hunters when we're done. But all that means is simply living up to your
reputations. If any of you don't think you're up to that, now is the time to
say so." Lope glanced at the sniper, then at the Gotal, then at Havac's
several human and alien confederates, and back at the sniper again.
"It's settled?" Havac asked, breaking the long silence.
Lope nodded. "Just one more question, Havac. Where will you be during all
this?" "Where I can watch over all of you," he said, and let it go at that.
From the tile mosaic floor of the summit hall, Qui-Gon peered up at the
tiers of seats, the banks of ornate, arch-topped windows, and, high overhead,
the media booths and maintenance walkways.
He rotated through a full circle, his gaze taking in groups of droids
inspecting the hall's several hundred video monitors, and teams of judicials
and security personnel moving through the tiers with leashed beasts that
sniffed, tasted, and probed the stale air.
In that quarter of the hall designated for the Coruscant delegation,
Masters Tiin and Ki-Adi-Mundi were snaking among the seats, open to the
slightest disturbances in the Force.
Elsewhere in the rotunda, Adi Gallia and Vergere were doing the same,
stretching out with their feelings, in the hope of discovering some indication
of what Havac and Cohl's assassins had planned for the summit.
Agape in four directions, and perforated by its many windows, the hall
was a security nightmare.
Worse, Eriadu had decreed the summit open not only to delegates, but also
to Holoationet reporters, assorted dignitaries and veterans groups, musicians,
corporate representatives, and just about anyone with a modicum of authority
or influence. So many diverse species were expected to attend--each with their
individual entourages of aides, attendants, translators, and security guards--
that it was going to be nea
r impossible to determine who was legitimate and
who wasn't.
Qui-Gon turned through another circle. The Eriadu delegation had granted
itself the center of the floor, with Supreme Chancellor Valorum to their left,
and the Trade Federation Directorate to their right. The Commerce Guild and
the Techno Union had an arc of seats between the two, buffered by delegations
from the Core and the outlying systems.
Qui-Gon's eyes were drawn once more to the overhead walkways and
gantries, many of which supported arrays of spotlights and acoustic devices.
Snipers could be placed almost at will, he told himself. Assas-sins
without regard for their own lives could inflict incalculable injury.
"Do you sense anything, Master?" Obi-Wan asked from behind him.
"Only that we are fighting something unseen, Obi-Wan. Each time we draw
close to identifying our adversary, it subverts and evades us." "Then it isn't
Captain Cohl?" Qui-Gon shook his head. "There is an organizing hand at work
here--one that moves Cohl about as effortlessly as it moves us." "Not this
Havac." Qui-Gon pondered it momentarily, then shook his head again. "It has no
name that I know, Padawan.
Perhaps the mystery owes to nothing more than my inability to see beyond
the moment. What do you feel?" Obi-Wan's expression became serious. "I feel
that we're close to resolving this, Master." Qui-Gon touched him on the
shoulder. "That's comforting to hear." Adi Gallia and Vergere stepped down to
the first tier to speak with them.
"Security assures us that the entry scanners are capable of detecting
explosives, along with weapons--regardless of their composition," Adi said.
"Guards will be stationed on the floor of the hall, and circulating up
top, along the walkways.
Security units and other droids will provide continuous surveillance of
the roof areas." "That may hamper Cohl from initiating an attack here," Qui-
Gon replied, "but what about outside the hall?" "The Supreme Chancellor's
route will be determined wascomputer, at the last moment." "I'd rather that
the route be by skycar to the rooftop pad." Adi shook her head negatively.
"I'm sorry, Qui-Gon. He insists on arriving by ground-effect vehicle. We'll
have to trust in the same precautions that safeguarded him on the route from
the spaceport to Lieutenant Governor Tarkin's compound." "Qui-Gon!" Master
Tiin called out suddenly.
Qui-Gon turned to find him and Ki-Adi-Mundi hurrying across the floor
toward them.
"Captain Cohl's freighter has been found," Tiin continued. "The Corellian
freighter. Ten customs agents were found tied up in the rear cabin." Qui-Gon
and Obi-Wan swapped brief looks. "How do they know it's the one Cohl piloted
here?" "The navicomputer indicates that the ship jumped to Eriadu from
Karfeddion space," Ki-Adi-Mundi explained.
"Cohl must have piloted the customs agents' ship to the surface," Qui-Gon
surmised.
Tiin nodded as he came to a halt in front of Qui-Gon. "The customs ship
has been located at the spaceport." "We should see for ourselves," Obi-Wan
said in a rush. Then he stopped himself and regarded Tiin.
"What prompted anyone to conduct a search of the freighter?" Tiin
appeared to have anticipated the question, along with Qui-Gon's look of wary
concern.
"The authorities received an anonymous lead." c ohl's eyelids fluttered,
then snapped open.
Boiny's blood - smeared face swam unfocused in his gaze. He felt
nauseated and wired. He knew that he should be in great pain, but he was only
vaguely aware of his body. Boiny had obviously dosed him with pain blockers.
Cohl tasted blood in his mouth, and something else--the syrupy astringency of
bacta.
Boiny's features began to sharpen and come into focus.
A blaster bolt had burned a deep furrow in the left side of the Rodian's
greenish skull. The wound glistened with freshly applied bacta, but Cohl
doubted that the miracle substance would prevail.
His memory made a hurried return. He gave a start and tried to sit up.
"Wait, Captain," Boiny said. His voice was weak and raspy. "Rest for a
moment." Cohl paid him no mind. He pushed himself upright, and immediately
fell face first to the hard floor. He heard the tip of his nose crack and felt
a trickle of blood course down over his mustache and drip onto his lower lip.
He began to drag himself across the floor, to where Rella's body lay
unmoving--unmoving and cold when he stretched out his hand and grazed her face
with his fingertips.
Boiny was suddenly beside him again.
"She's dead, Captain," he said, anguished.
"By the time I came to, there was nothing I could do." Cohl crawled the
final meter to Rella. He threw his right arm over her shoulders, tugging her
to him and weeping quietly for a long moment.
"You had to come back," he said quietly, between sobs.
Then he rolled over and glared at Boiny.
"You should have let me die." Boiny had clearly anticipated his rage.
"If you were close to dying, I might have been able to do that." He
tugged Cohl's ragged shirt aside to expose the thick armorply garment beneath.
"The vest absorbed most of the charge, but you have internal injuries." He
glanced at Cohl's tattered left thigh, then leaned over to examine his
forehead.
"I did the best I could with your other wounds." Cohl raised his hand to
his head. The bolt from Rella's blaster had burned away all the hair on the
right side of his head and left a wound every bit as deep and ragged as the
one that trenched Boiny's skull.
"Where'd you find--was "An emergency medkit in a cabinet by the door.
The bacta patches are a couple of months expired, but they probably have
enough potency to sustain us for a while." Cohl passed the back of his hand
under his nose, then took a stuttering breath. "Your head..." "Fractured, as
well as burned. But I gave myself a healthy measure of the pain blockers I fed
you. I came close to overdosing myself. But at least I'm seeing only one of
you now." Cohl managed to sit up. Glancing around the room, he spied the man
he had killed lying faceup on the floor, exactly where the blaster had dropped
him. Otherwise, the room was empty. He looked back at Boiny.
"Why didn't they finish us?" "This wasn't supposed to happen. I figure
that Havac panicked." Cohl thought about it for a moment. "No. The Jedi are on
to us. He wants us to be found." He paused briefly, then added, "But he isn't
fool enough to believe I'd keep quiet about this mission, out of some
misguided sense of honor." "I'll wager that he's counting on the fact that you
won't betray Lope and the others." Cohl nodded slowly. "Havac read me right.
But he's going to regret not killing me when he had the chance." With visible
effort, he raised himself up on his uninjured right knee. "Are any of them
still in the warehouse?" "Only the customs agents secured in the corridor. The
cargo bay is deserted." Cohl extended his arm to the Rodian. "Help me up." He
winced as Boiny tugged him to his feet.
Gingerly, he planted his left foot on the floor and nearly collapsed.
"I'm going to need a crutch." "I'll fix you up with something," Boiny
said.
Cohl balanced on his good leg. He thought his heart might burst if he
looked at Rella again, but he forced his gaze downward nevertheless.
"Some of us were born to be betrayed," he whispered.
"I can't make
up to you, Rella. But I can try with everything I've got left to avenge
you." Supported on the crutch the Rodian had fashioned from a length of pipe
and a cloth-padded brace of plasteel, Cohl followed Boiny out into the
corridor. The bound and blindfolded customs agents were scarcely aware of them
as they moved stealthily toward the warehouse's spaceport entrance. The female
agent whose uniform Rella had taken remained unconscious from the shot Boiny
had given her aboard the ship.
The front room was loud with the noise of launches and landings, despite
the roll-away doors being closed. The repulsorsleds were still hovering a
meter off the sawdust-strewn floor, and everything else was much as Cohl
remembered it.
Boiny studied the room for a moment, then walked to the center of the
floor, two meters from the lead sled.
"There was a cargo crate here." Cohl eyed the telltale marks in the
sawdust.
"Too large for a weapon's crate." Looking around, the two of them spotted
the portable holoprojector at the same time. It was resting on the retracted
landing strut of one of the sleds. Boiny reached it first. Setting it atop the
sled, he activated it. Cohl limped over as the device was beginning to cycle
through its stored images.
"The summit hall," he said, in response to the 3-D image of the majestic
dome-roofed building, and the mount it crowned.
Boiny allowed the images to cycle again, pausing the device when it
displayed a remote view of the wooded mount, and the four broad avenues that
terminated at the hall.
"The vantage from the cluster of rooftops we saw earlier," Boiny said,
already initiating a reverse scan through the images. "Havac could be planning
to attack Valorum before he arrives at the summit." Cohl tugged at what was
left of his beard while he considered it. He gestured to the holoprojector.
"He didn't forget to take this.
He wanted it to be found--just the way he wanted us to be found."
Abruptly, Boiny ducked down beneath one of the repulsorsleds. "Here's
