Gunray and Dod wore robes, mantles, and headdresses- — crimson and cordovan for the viceroy; deep purple and lavender for the senator.
Fore and aft and to both sides of them marched security droids, their blaster rifles mounted behind their right shoulders. The droids constituted the Neimoidians' reply to Eriadu's offer to provide protection. In addition, the Trade Federation Directorate had insisted that a small shield generator be installed in that section of the summit hall assigned to them.
A mere glance at the protestors who stood five-deep along the perimeter of the spaceport facilities told Gunray that the members of the directorate had made a prudent decision- despite the ridicule to which they had been subjected by their peers in the Galactic Senate.
The directorate's other six, shielded by Eriadu security agents, led the Trade Federation cortege as they neared the terminal. At the head of the line walked the Federation's four human directors — comtwo from Kuat, one from Balmorra, and the other from Filve. And behind them came the directorate's Gran and Sullustan members, all wearing costly tunics and caplets, though a far cry from the extravagant ones affected by Gunray and Dod.
"Can we take this Asmeru business as a sign that Valorum is secretly in our camp?" the Sullustan was asking the Gran.
"Not unless Valorum surprises everyone here by withdrawing his taxation proposal," the Gran replied.
"My attorneys assure me that the Republic has no legal right to tax the free trade zones," Gunray said in Basic, from atop his ambulatory throne.
One of the humans from Kuat looked over his shoulder at the Neimoidian and laughed. "The Republic will do as it wishes, Viceroy. You're a fool to believe otherwise. Valorum is as much our adversary as ever." Gunray suffered the humiliation in silence. What, he wondered, would the Kuati have made of Darth Sidious's assertion that Valorum was the Trade Federation's strongest ally in the senate? Would the Kuati have been so quick to taunt and scoff?
Gunray doubted it.
The arrogant human and the others knew nothing of the covert deal Gunray had struck with the Sith Lord.
They viewed the Neimoidians' continuing purchases of upgraded droid weaponry as wasteful, and symptomatic of the Neimoidians' increasing sense of paranoia. But they rarely contested the expenditures, since the weapons afforded the fleet an added measure of protection. Similarly, they knew nothing of Sidious's plan for the Trade Federation to extend its reach beyond the outlying systems to the galactic rim itself.
And yet, Gunray was anxious.
The Sith Lord had communicated with him only once since arranging the meeting between the Neimoidians and the Baktoid and Haor Chall arms merchants.
The communication had been brief and one-sided, with Sidious stressing the importance of Gunray's attending the trade summit, and assuring him, as ever, that everything was going according to plan.
"The way to defeat Valorum," the other Kuati was saying, "is to persuade our signatory members that they gain nothing by decamping and seeking individual representation in the senate." "Even if that requires offering them lucrative trade incentives," the Sullustan added.
"But our profits," Gunray blurted, despite his best efforts to control himself.
"The Republic taxes will have to be absorbed by the outlying systems,"
the directorate officer from Balmorra said. "There is simply no other way."
"And if the taxes are too exorbitant for the outlying systems to absorb?" the Gran asked.
"Our share of the market will be lost. This could very well cripple us."
This time Gunray managed to stifle himself.
It is all a charade, Sidious had said.
Taxation is but a minor obstacle in our path to greater glory. Allow your counterparts in the directorate to say and do as they wish. But refrain from offering any response-especially at the summit itself.
Our path, Gunray thought.
But had he entered into a true partnership, or one in which Sidious would emerge as the Neimoidians' overlord? How long could a Sith Lord content himself with mere economic power? And what was likely to become of Viceroy Nute Gunray once Darth Sidious set his sights on a target more worthy of his dark expertise?
Already Deputy Viceroy Hath Monchar and Commander Dofine had aired their separate misgivings about the alliance- — scarcely realizing that the partnership had as much been forced on Gunray as offered to him.
The Sith Lord had promised that he would communicate with Gunray once more before the summit began. Perhaps, the viceroy hoped, all would then be revealed.
Havac and his cohort returned to the main room of the customs warehouse, and the distant rumble of spacecraft launches. The five mercenaries Cohl had assembled were sitting on the edges of the repulsorsleds that had borne them to the warehouse.
From the jittery way Havac moved, Lope knew that something unexpected had taken place. He jumped off the hovering sled to gaze down the corridor that led to the rear of the building.
"Where's Captain Cohl?" he asked Havac.
Above the scarf that swathed his face, Havac's eyes narrowed as he swung to face him. "Cohl went out the back way. But he sends his luck." Before anyone else could raise questions, he asked Lope, "What's your preferred weapon?" Lope took a second look down the corridor, then returned to the sleds. "Blades-of any length." Havac turned to one of the other humans.
"Yours?" he asked, in an increasingly confident voice.
"Sniper rifles." Havac glanced at the Gotal.
"I'm not a shooter. I'm a lookout." Havac studied the remaining pair of humans-a brutish — looking man and an equally rough-cut woman.
"No preferences," the man grunted.
"The same," the woman said.
Havac took a portable holoprojector from his pocket and set it atop an alloy cargo crate. Everyone gathered round as an image of a Classic-era building with a domed roof took shape in the cone of light.
"The site of the trade summit," Havac said, as the image began to rotate, showing tall, slender towers at each corner, and four principal entrances.
"The main hall is a rotunda, similar in design to the Galactic Senate, but on a much smaller scale and without the detachable balconies." Havac called up a panoramic view of the interior.
"True to their exaggerated sense of self-importance, the Eriadu delegation has placed itself at the center of the hall. The Coruscant delegation will occupy east-side tiers of seats-here- with the members of the Trade Federation Directorate in west — side tiers. Delegations representing the Core Worlds, the Inner Rim, and the outlying systems will be dispersed throughout the rest of the hall.
"In the event of trouble, the Trade Federation Directorate will be able to activate a force field. But Valorum's delegation is deliberately unshielded, as a show of good faith." The sniper scrutinized the image for a moment.
"Valorum is going to be a difficult target-even from the highest tier in the rotunda." "You'll be higher than that," Havac said. "The upper por-tion of the hall is a maze of maintenance walkways and gantries, along with booths designated for media personnel." "We'd have a better chance of hitting Valorum before he enters the building," Lope said.
"Perhaps," Havac conceded. "But the plan hinges on our ability to infiltrate the summit and do the job there." "Four entrances," the sniper said. "Which one is Valorum coming through?" Havac shook his head. "Unknown.
The route to the summit hall won't be revealed until the last possible instant, and we don't have anyone close enough to him to provide us with that data. That's why we need a spotter team on the outside." Havac conjured another image from the holoprojector, showing the older quarter of the city, where the summits of innumerable buildings merged into an extensive range of rounded rooftops and elegant towers.
"Eriadu security is trying to keep the rooftops clear, but there aren't enough repulsorlift vehicles to provide steady surveillance, especially in areas like this, where the roofs are all interconnected.
Instead, security is flying sweeps at regular i
ntervals, concentrating their efforts on the buildings adjacent to the summit hall." Havac indicated one of the domed rooftops. "From here, there's a decent view of the four boulevards that lead to the summit hall's separate entrances. The spotters- was He pointed to Lope, the Gotal, and the woman. his-comw have just enough time to position yourvs on the roof between air sweeps. Access to the roof is through a safe house we maintain on Eriadu. The safe house will also serve as our rendezvous point after we're finished, or should something unforeseen occur beforehand. Valorum's hovercade will be easy to spot. As soon as you've ascertained the route, you'll communicate that information to the rest of us."
"Where will you be?" Lope demanded to know.
Havac turned to him. "The shooters will already be inside the hall, up in the walkways." "That'll be the first place security will look," the sniper 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 near 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.
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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.
Cloak Of Deception (звёздные войны) Page 22
