by K. W. Jeter
"That means a great deal to me." Kuat of Kuat was not surprised to hear the statement, though. He had come down from the office in his private quarters, to which he normally would have summoned the various supervisors one by one, the single alpha and the ranks of beta team supervisors below him. This time—perhaps for the last time, Kuat knew—he preferred to meet with the crew leaders here among the docks, the true heart of the corporation he led. To find a devotion equal to his own was only fitting in such a place. "But you must re-member," continued Kuat, "loyalty to me is the same as loyalty to Kuat Drive Yards. I wouldn't ask you to do anything that would not be best for it, and for all that we've worked so hard to create."
The men and women assembled in the meeting shed— there were probably close to a hundred of them, repre-senting all of the corporation's divisions—looked back at him with complete understanding in their collective gaze. They were as aware as he was of all the enemies arrayed against Kuat Drive Yards, the greedy and am-bitious who desired to consume the corporation whole, bring it entirely under their power, make it a mere part of that greater entity known as ... the Empire. Palpa-tine and the underlings that he had come to dominate with his insatiable will, from Lord Vader down through the ranks of admirals in the Imperial Navy—none of them could abide the thought of any entity, from the last solitary Rebel to one of the most powerful corpo-rations in the galaxy, remaining independent. The faith-ful KDY employees standing before Kuat knew that their only options were to resist the Empire's encroachment with all their possible strength and will—or see them-selves crushed inside Palpatine's fist, as he had crushed worlds with wealth greater than any possessed by the planet Kuat.
One of the eldest B-supervisors stepped forward. Kuat recognized the man as the leader of the shipbuild-ing team that laid down the enormous central frames of the ships that took form in the KDY construction docks. The B-supervisor had been a lead operator, back in the days of Kuat's father, of one of the massive cranes span-ning the docks, each nearly as long—and powerful—as an Imperial battle destroyer. Through the meeting shed's overhead skylights, the outline of one of them could be seen, blotting out an entire swath of stars.
"You've led this corporation well, Kuat." Though white-haired, the B-supervisor was still a figure of imposing musculature, with a razor-sharp gaze in his age-seamed face. "And through times perhaps more difficult than any faced by your predecessors; you've proven your-self to be the true heir of the Kuat Drive Yards' helm."
A murmuring chorus of agreement sounded behind the man.
"Is it your intent, then, to be the final leader that this corporation will ever see?" The B-supervisor peered closely at Kuat. "Perhaps you seek to ensure that Kuat Drive Yards will never have a leader greater than yourself."
"That's not my intent," said Kuat of Kuat. The ranks assembled in the meeting shed fell absolutely silent to hear his softly spoken words. "But if it turns out to be my duty, then I will accept it."
The grizzled figure standing before him slowly nod-ded. "A fine answer, Kuat. And a worthy decision. I've heard that there are many, on the planet of Kuat that we orbit—" As with most of the KDY workforce, the old man had spent his entire life in the construction docks and the attached dormitory complex. "—and on worlds far from here, who believe that from our work, our lives among the ships we build, we wind up with hearts as cold and precise as machines. So be it; perhaps those other creatures speak truly. But if such is the case, then you should feel certain of the judgment of the living ma-chines you see before you." The B-supervisor turned and gestured with an outflung arm toward the other KDY workers. "And that judgment is—as you accept your duty, however painful, so do we accept ours."
The voices behind the man were louder this time, but just as united in their assent.
Kuat looked away from his followers for a moment, toward the bank of transparisteel panes along the side of the meeting shed. From here he had a closer view than from his personal quarters, high above the construction docks, of the corporation's work. As far as his eye could see, and against a glittering backdrop of stars, the mas-sive shapes of a completed battle fleet were arrayed one after another. The cranes and other heavy equipment that the shipbuilders used in their intricate craft arched over the ships, as though to protect them from hands that would defile their beauty and power. Kuat's heart, however hard and machinelike it may have become, swelled in his chest. No matter what happened, however dark the fate closing upon Kuat Drive Yards, its accom-plishments would remain. We built these, thought Kuat as he gazed at the ships. They were ours before they be-came anyone else's. He nodded slowly to himself. What became of them now was a matter for him to decide.
The B-supervisor had stepped back into the ranks of the others filling the shed. At the front of them was the a-foreman of the Kuat Drive Yards' construction docks, as before. "Are there further instructions," said the a-foreman, "that you wished to give us?"
"No ..." Kuat of Kuat brought himself back from his deep musing. "Proceed with the plans as I've outlined them. Let me know when we've reached operational stage, and then await word from my offices before going any further."
"As you wish." The a-foreman turned back toward the others and made a single gesture with an upraised arm. "Let's get to work."
After the workers had filed out, Kuat remained by himself in the meeting shed for a while longer. He stood at the bank of transparisteel windows, looking out at the ships beneath the immense cranes but not really seeing them at all. In the distance, some of the bright points of light above the construction docks weren't stars, but the small, armed craft of the Rebel Alliance that had been assigned to keep an eye on whatever might happen to the new and valuable fleet waiting here. Those Rebel pi-lots were only doing their own duty; Kuat held no grudge against them. But he couldn't let them stop him from his own.
He was reluctant to return to his private quarters, and to the ongoing confrontation with the various conspira-cies encircling Kuat Drive Yards. This conference with the various supervisors from the construction docks had been a momentary break from all those pressures, and one that had been, he knew, somewhat unnecessary. He could have been sure of his followers' loyalty with-out having to come here in person; some of them had already routed memos to his offices assuring him of that much.
One takes one's pleasures, mused Kuat of Kuat, where one can find them. Given what he knew about the dark forces moving among the stars, and what he would have to do to keep Kuat Drive Yards from falling into their hands, there were not many pleasures left to him.
Or time left to enjoy them...
"We'll soon be out of range," said one of the Kuat Drive Yards' security personnel, "if we wish to contact head-quarters and inquire as to any changes in our orders."
Kodir of Kuhlvult, the head of security for the corpo-ration, stood in the command bridge of the cruiser, with her hands clasped in the small of her back. Past the staff manning the cruiser's flight and weaponry controls, the cruiser's forward viewport was visible. Locked in that center of the star-filled image was a brighter flare, that of the main thruster engines of the ship known as the Hound's Tooth. The distance to that target had re-mained stable for the last several minutes. Stable—and tantalizingly just beyond range of the KDY cruiser's laser cannons.
"There's no need to contact Kuat, if that's what you mean." Kodir was aware that some of the members of Kuat Drive Yards' security division had yet to accept her leadership as a fact, and her decisions as final. "He's au-thorized me to act as I see fit in this matter."
Her words, crisply spoken, had an interesting effect on the underling, drawing his spine up straighter and stiffen "Kuat did more than just 'authorize' your ac-tions," he replied in measured tones. "He gave all of us the same orders, that we were to fire upon and destroy the ship bearing Boba Fett at the earliest opportunity."
"So he did." Kodir didn't turn toward the man, but remained gazing toward the viewport. "Your point?"
"My point is that we had our weapons systems locked
on this ship that we are presently following back when it left the sector at which we first intercepted it. We could have eliminated it at that time, if you hadn't directly or-dered our crew to hold their fire."
Kodir glanced toward the man standing beside her. "Are you questioning my decision?"
"I fail to see how that decision corresponds with the orders and the mission that were given to us by Kuat of Kuat. His authority outranks yours, whether he is physi-cally present or not; he is, after all, the head of the Kuat Drive Yards, and we all serve under that command."
"Very well put," replied Kodir. "When I require a lec-ture on the theory and practice of corporate structure, I'll be sure to remember that you seem to be unusually well versed on the subject. In the meantime, my orders as head of the security division remain as before. We will continue pursuing this ship bearing Boba Fett, and we will forgo contacting Kuat of Kuat at the corporation's headquarters. Is that clear?"
"Absolutely clear." The man's eyes narrowed to slits as he regarded her. "It is my duty, when we return to Kuat Drive Yards, to make a full report to Kuat regard-ing your conduct in this regard."
"That's your decision." She smiled thinly at the man. "But I assure you, the head of the corporation places a great deal of trust in me. That's how I became your superior. If there's anything that you think you might be able to say that would alter Kuat's trust, you're more than free to speak up about it. But be pre-pared for the consequences, if Kuat doesn't agree with you."
The underling remained silent, still glaring at her.
"Now that we understand each other," continued Kodir, "you may return to your other duties. As I'll return to mine."
With a curt nod the underling turned and strode away.
Several other faces on the bridge had swiveled in her direction, watching and listening to the brief altercation. Kodir gestured with one hand. "Carry on," she said. "Un-less, that is, any of you wish to question my command?"
A moment passed, then the security staff returned to their various tasks.
Kodir gazed past the heads bent over the gauges and display screens. Soon, she told herself. A mere matter of time...
"You know, I'm beginning to think you're just plain bad luck." N'dru Suhlak glanced over his shoulder at the fig-ure behind him in the Headhunter's cockpit. "Whether I'm going up against you, or whether we're supposed to be on the same side—there's just evil stuff that happens to me when you're around."
"What's the problem?" Boba Fett grasped the back of the pilot's chair Suhlak sat in and pulled himself for-ward, the better to see what was up ahead of the small craft. "I thought we had just about reached Tatooine."
"Sure—dead ahead." Suhlak pointed to the forward viewport. In the distance was the buff-colored orb, with little of its surface obscured by cloud cover beneath the radiance of twin suns. "Plus, I thought we'd already got-ten past the worst we were going to encounter along the way. Without having to get into any running dogfights— I'd much rather sneak past anyone trying to stop me, in-stead of having to shoot my way through." He shook his head. "I don't think we're going to be able to do that with this customer."
"You've spotted someone?"
"Correction—someone's spotted us." A red dot of light was pulsing on the control panel; Suhlak pointed to it. "I can't see him yet, but whoever it is, he's definitely got some kind of multifrequency scanning and lock-on device. It's got real distance capability, too. None of my detect systems can even get a fix on his location; the sig-nal that got bounced off us was less than a nanosecond in duration, and that's way too small to calculate off of."
The cockpit area of the Headhunter had been exten-sively modified, bubbled out to add a larger carrying capacity for Suhlak's paying passengers. But the space was still cramped enough that all Boba Fett would have had to do was turn away from the pilot's chair in order to place his hands against the curved bulkhead, as though he might have been able to sense the approaching preda-tor in that way.
On the cockpit panel, the red light began pulsing faster, at an accelerating clip. "I take it," said Boba Fett, "that we're picking up more of this unknown indi-vidual's scanning signals?"
"You got it, pal. He's obviously trying to get enough vector data on us to predict our path and speed. Which means"—Suhlak slammed the navigational controls hard to one side; the stars in the viewport blurred horizontally as the Z-95 Headhunter banked at close to a ninety-degree deflection from its original course—"we go an-other way."
The sharp maneuver had slammed Boba Fett against the pilot's chair. He braced himself, widening the stance of his boots and holding on tighter to the seat's back.
Suhlak glanced over his shoulder at his passenger. "You better sit back and strap yourself in. This might get a little raucous."
"And leave you running this show by yourself?" The lights from the control panel glinted on the dark visor of Boba Fett's helmet as he shook his head. "Don't worry— I can handle it."
"Suit yourself. Because it seems our friend has gotten in range of us." Suhlak pointed to the upper left quad-rant of the viewport. "There he is now. And it doesn't look like he just wants to say hello." Boosting the Head-hunter's main engines to full throttle, Suhlak threw the small ship into a looping spiral, piling on multiple g-forces. "Hold on—"
The first shot fired from the pursuer struck the Head-hunter's exterior hull, to the rear of the expanded pas-senger area. A burst of hot sparks rained across Boba Fett's back as a section of insulated circuitry overloaded and caught fire. Both he and Suhlak ignored the black smoke that started to fill the cockpit as the hunt saboteur pushed the thruster controls even farther forward, at the same time taking the craft into a wrenching counter-directional dive.
"There. That should've taken care of him." Suhlak pointed to the display from the rear scanner. "See? We've lost him." With one hand, Suhlak pulled back the en-gines' throttle. "Kinda disappointing, actually. I was hop-ing for a lot more fun from—" He suddenly fell silent, leaning forward and peering at the forward viewport. "What the..."
"Something wrong?"
"Yeah ... you could say that..." Suhlak slowly nod-ded, then raised his hand and pointed to the curved trans-paristeel in front of the control panel. "There he is ..."
At the center of the viewport, the pursuing ship sat waiting in the distance, engines dropped to standby as though its pilot was confident of there being no escape for its prey.
"Oh, great." Suhlak looked down at a smaller read-out on the control panel. "We finally got an ID code from this guy. Believe me, he's the last one I wanted to run into."
Boba Fett peered at the small bright image of the ship ahead. "Who is it?"
"Osss-10," said Suhlak, shoulders slumping. "Now I'm sure you're bad luck."
"Never heard of him."
"You wouldn't have." Disgust sounded in Suhlak's voice. "That's because you're an old story, and he's the latest thing. Don't you get it? This is all because of what you did when you broke up the old Bounty Hunters Guild. The old rule book's been thrown out, and there's enough chaos in the bounty-hunting environment for totally new ones to start up. New—and better." Suhlak pointed his thumb at the viewport. "I've never even seen this Osss-10 guy face-to-face, don't know where he comes from, but I've already had some real unpleasant encounters with him. Somebody with a lot of credits must be bankrolling him: he's got all the state-of-the-art equipment, plus he's a real genius at programming his onboard computers. He's got some kind of predictive al-gorithms wired into his gear that I've never encountered before. The more confrontations you have with him, the bigger operational database he has to extrapolate from about what your next moves are going to be—just like he did right now. If he gets much smarter, next he's going to be able to know what I'm going to do before I know!"
"So what are your plans?"
"What difference does it make?" Suhlak slumped down in defeat. "I already threw my best stuff at this guy. The only thing I can think of to do is ... give up."
"Right—" Bob
a Fett leaned past Suhlak and shoved the main thruster engine controls forward. The Z-95 Headhunter shot forward, rapidly accelerating toward the other craft in the distance.
"What're you doing?" Suhlak struggled against the forearm restraining him in the seat. "You'll get us killed!"
Fett said nothing, but pushed the thruster controls all the way to their limits.
The pursuer craft loomed larger in the center of the viewport as the Headhunter sped straight toward it. Sud-denly, the prow-mounted laser cannons began firing. Bolt after coruscating bolt struck the Headhunter, buf-feting the craft from side to side, as more sparks and smoke filled its interior as though it were in the middle of a planetary lightning storm. Boba Fett kept his grip locked upon the thruster controls. Shock and the force of accele-ration were enough to keep Suhlak pinned where he was, watching helplessly as Boba Fett made quick naviga-tional corrections with his other hand, maintaining their fiery course toward their opponent.
A final volley of laser-cannon fire burst across the viewport, blinding in its white-hot glare. The Head-hunter burst through it, finding the other craft now di rectly ahead. They were close enough to each other that Suhlak, opening his squeezed-shut eyes, had a momen-tary glimpse of a grimly intent face behind a curve of transparisteelThat was all he saw of Osss-10. Suhlak braced himself for the annihilating impact of the two ships crashing to-gether. Then suddenly he could see the rear of the other craft encircled with the flare from its own engines at full throttle. The cockpit through which he had glimpsed the pursuer's face swept upward and out of his vision; the bottom of the other ship's hull filled the viewport, near enough that Suhlak could have counted the thermal weld seams in the durasteel panels if they hadn't gone by so fast.
A scraping noise, metal against metal, sounded through the smoke roiling in the cockpit area as the underside of Osss-10's ship tore off one of the Z-95 Headhunter's sen-sor arrays. Then silence filled the space, broken only by the hissing of the automatic fire-control systems extin-guishing the burning circuitry.
