"And why would that interest me?"
Obi-Wan knew that they were equally aware of the stakes involved.
"Because it would give you time to buy and hoard certain
components, equipment, raw materials. I'm certain an enterprising
lady such as yourself can see the potential."
Trillot exhaled, and her face took on an arrangement that Obi-
Wan believed was a smile. "You think like a criminal," she said.
"One of my many failings."
"I like that in a man," Trillot said, leaning close enough for Obi-
Wan to catch a whiff of pheromones. Possibly a seductive move among
the X'Ting, but to Obi-Wan, Trillot smelled like a tannery.
"So?"
Trillot sighed. "So. Well, then. Yes, it is true. There is a weakness
in the system, but only because it would kill those who tried to exploit
it."
Interesting. "Explain."
"Radiation," Trillot said. "It is said that beneath the industrial city
of Clandes lies a juncture box where the landlines cross. Not all communications
are wireless—not since the uprisings a century ago.
These landlines can directly access the main terminal, with only
minor safeguards. After reconfiguration, that entire area was designated
unfit for habitation, and the workers moved out. With the
safety regulations no longer so . . . stringent, they saved money on
shielding. It would kill you in a few minutes . . . unless you had a class
six Baktoid radiation suit."
"Which I assume you have?"
"Let's just say that a lady of my peculiar resources knows how to
acquire such things."
"And what might the price of such a wonder be?"
"Such suits are rare, now that the Baktoid factories are shut down,"
Trillot said mildly. "What you wish done is singular. If and when you
commit such an act, any who know of the suit's sale would know to
come looking for Trillot."
"What price?"
"It will never happen . . . but let's say half a million credits."
Half a million. More than he planned to pay, but possible. Still, if
he gave in too quickly, this gangster would lose respect for him. Future
negotiations would be strained. "Absurd."
Trillot might have been reading his mind. "Yes. Isn't it?"
The two bantered and sparred for a few more minutes, and then
Obi-Wan softened his stance. "So . . . through this terminal, assuming
that the agent did not die of radiation poisoning, the production
line could be shut down . . . or crashed?"
"It could happen, yes." Trillot seemed delighted with herself.
"Even if I had half a million credits, I am not yet prepared to engage
in sabotage against the Clandes factory," he said. "Let us discuss
other alternatives."
"A question," Trillot asked. "If that central computer were shut
down, the entire economy goes . . . pfft. Not good for business, eh?"
"No," Obi-Wan said, certain of his ground. "The luxury droids
would stop. Low-end droids could continue manufacture under license."
"Ah. Then Cestus would fall neatly into the Republic's arms, and
business can continue as before."
"So," Obi-Wan said, extending both hands palm forward in the
manner of agreeable X'Tings. "We have a deal?"
"Details on the trade agreement?"
"That's all for now. And inquiries concerning that suit."
"It will be done."
He touched palms with Trillot, and then, bowing, he turned and
left.
Trillot waited a few moments, puffing again from the pipe. Smoke
drifted from the flaps in her neck.
As if on cue, Ventress appeared. Her tattooed scalp seemed almost
to glow in the dim light. She seemed thoughtful but not disturbed.
"So," she said. "Kenobi wants the notes of Count Dooku's negotiations
with the Five Families, as well as secret codicils between Cestus
Cybernetics and the hive."
Trillot blinked. "Does this disturb you?"
"No. It excites me." She closed her eyes and smiled, lost in her own
speculations. "Obi-Wan and I have an appointment."
Trillot ceased to take pleasure from her draws, and coughed a bit,
furious to have revealed her inner mood in such a gauche fashion.
Her broodmates would have been ashamed. "What shall I do? If it is
that important, then surely I should refuse to supply him."
Ventress's eyes rolled up and lost focus, as if seeking a distant vista.
"No."
"I can give him false information—" she tried again.
"No." Ventress had focused again, and was even more certain this
time. "He may have other sources. This may be nothing more than a
test. If you fail it, he will never trust you again." She paused a moment,
and her eyes shivered side to side in their internal search for
truth or clarity. "And," she continued, "I think that before this is
through, it will prove to be good that he trusts you." She considered,
and then the first smile creased those thin, pale lips. "Yes, I believe
that that is true."
bi-Wan Kenobi slipped out of Trillot's den. With every step it
seemed as if layers of a toxic curtain were lifting from his mind.
Gritt Chippie was waiting for him even before he triggered the little
chip he had been given. The taxi driver seemed a bit off-put.
"Sir Jedi," he said. "I got a flash. Asked me to link you to another
taxi."
Obi-Wan's eyebrows raised. "Yes?"
"Don't know who. Link you?"
This was interesting. Who would attempt such an unusual contact?
"By all means."
The X'Ting driver dithered over a fingerboard, and an indistinct
face appeared. Not male or female—it was deliberately obscured for
gender and species. The voice was masked as well. "I respectfully request
the honored guest meet me at the Cleft Head for a cup of
wake-tea and a bit of discussion. I believe he will find it to his benefit."
A map appeared.
"Where would this take us?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Im'grant section. Not bad, not good. Strange." Chippie shrugged.
"I know not say, sir."
Obi-Wan checked over his recent actions. He didn't recall anything
0
unusually suspicious. So if it was a trap, why not stay their hand until
something actually occurred? "Let's go," he said. But as they rose and
flew away, Obi-Wan felt comforted by the weight and heft of the
lightsaber at his side.
Obi-Wan entered the Cleft Head through a door that resembled a
quartet of X'Ting hive cubicles. As he crossed the threshold, Obi-
Wan heard a raucous scream. The mob of X'Ting and offworlders
backed away, giving two combatants room.
Two young X'Ting males circled each other, and then one lunged.
The other danced away, and both curled their abdomens: quartermeter-
long stingers emerged. Both male and female X'Ting had
stingers, but those of the males were slightly longer, the poison more
deadly. Their increased strength-to-weight ratios as they dumped
their egg sacs made them far faster.
Their stingers stabbed at each other. Finally, one made a mistake,
and the stinger plunged deep. The stricken X'Ting seemed paralyzed
&nb
sp; with fear even before the toxin took effect. Then he foamed, shuddered
and collapsed, shaking. And then was still...
The bar's patrons turned back to their drinks, as if this was a
nightly occurance.
The Cleft Head wake-up house served a thousand stimulants from
a hundred worlds, designed to help office workers burn the midnight
wick without collapse. It was all legal, although Obi-Wan was certain
that within its confines access to slightly less legal substances was
easily arranged.
He chose a table that allowed him to watch the door and ordered
a cup of Tatooine H'Kak bean tea. The fragrant orange-colored extract
had hardly been delivered to his table before a bulky figure in an
enveloping cloak slipped into the chair opposite him.
"G'Mai Duris," he said, sipping. H'Kak beans were positively wizard
at brushing away the heavy, noxious strands remaining from Trillot's
den. "I'd hoped it might be one of your emissaries, but dared not
hope you'd come yourself." He kept his voice low. Her face was hidden
within the folds of her cowl, but he recognized her faceted eyes
at once. If Duris wished to travel incognito among her constituents,
he had to assume that she had good reason. Besides, another question
needed answering. "How did you find me?"
"I have my own sources, my own spies," she said. "And some report
directly to me rather than to the council. Some in low places have
found me trustworthy in the past. It was sheer chance that they
picked you up entering Trillot's lair."
She cocked her head sideways, and although he could barely see
her eyes, he knew they would be hooded with challenge. "I assume
you did not go to Trillot in search of intoxication. May I ask your
business?"
"Perhaps when we know each other a bit better," he said, buying
himself time.
"Perhaps."
She laughed, and he thought its sound more genuine and unaffected
than any she had made in her public mode. "This is Chikat-
Lik's immigrant section. They came during our boom days, and now
many of them are trapped onplanet, without enough credits to get
home. They're more concerned with finding jobs or transport than
listening to conversations. They don't pay attention, Master Kenobi.
At times, the best hiding place is in plain sight."
"So, then. The Cleft Head bar, indeed."
"I was hoping that you might sneak out. And that if you did, I
might be able to meet with you."
Obi-Wan nodded. "Now that I understand your method, perhaps
you can enlighten me as to your intent."
"For the first time I can speak freely—" She paused. "Or almost
freely, at any rate."
He chuckled. "You have my attention."
"Regardless of what you may think, Cestus's Regency is a sham—
governments come and go, but the Five Families who controlled the
early droid and armor works—mining, fabrication, sales and distribution,
research, and energy—actually control everything. I believe
they favor the Confederacy."
"You believe?"
She sighed. "I have no real proof. I am related to the hive's royal
house. My cousin Quill is royalty as well, but since he killed my mate,
and stole hive council leadership"—she cast her faceted eyes downward—"
I am no longer privy to the inner workings of the Five Families
or the hive council. I no longer know if their decisions are made
by vote, or if some one or two of them have taken power. No one
knows who holds the ultimate power. No one can pierce the melded
corporate veil."
"Corporate veil?" Obi-Wan mused. "More of a family veil."
"True. No outsiders know the business of those meetings."
"What of the planet's other original inhabitants?"
"Its aboriginals?" She shrugged. "Most are dead and gone, or pushed
to the Badlands. The spider folk were once strong, but I doubt there
is a single intact clan left on the surface."
The buzz of the Cleft Head rose, and then ebbed again, a current
that washed over them in waves. "I am afraid, Master Jedi. I see no
good way out of this."
"Might they replace you as Regent?"
"No," she said flatly. "I am Regent for life." She lowered her head.
"He would take the Regency himself, if that would not so baldly proclaim
a conflict of interests. He controls the hive council, and is in
turn controlled by the Five Families."
"And what does this mean?"
"It means that the checks and balances that should protect the indigenous
peoples are nonexistent. It means that the original contracts
with the hive can be manipulated in any way profitable to the Families."
This was ghastly. "And you cannot stand against him?"
"If I go against Quill, he will just challenge me, kill me, and replace
me." She paused. "As he did my mate Filian."
"And you are afraid of him?"
"He is one of the hive's most lethal fighters." She shivered at the
very thought.
"Why are you meeting with me?"
Her eyes flashed. "When I took office, I found a datapad left by
one of my predecessors, a hundred fifty years ago. It spoke of another
Jedi, named Yoda, I believe."
Obi-Wan couldn't resist a smile. Yoda? He didn't recall hearing
about the great Jedi Master on a planet named Cestus.
" . . . he was marooned here while escorting a prisoner, and did
great service to the hive. My predecessor trusted the Jedi, so I trust
you. I believe I can speak to you honestly, and receive honesty in
return."
"I will do what I can, so long as it does not compromise my mission."
"It does not," she assured him.
"Then we are just two new friends sharing a quiet hour, and a bit
of H'Kak."
She took a deep breath. "Thank you. You and I walk through a hall
of mirrors, Obi-Wan. Count Dooku's order will force my people to
choose between economic collapse and military defeat. I believe
those who placed the orders knew i t . . . and perhaps even hoped for
such a situation."
Reasonable. "For what purpose?"
"I do not know. I fear Cestus is a pawn in a larger, more dangerous
game."
Obi-Wan hunched closer. "What manner of game?"
"I do not know. I say only that I sense the hand of a master games
player, but do not know the end."
He considered what she had said so far, and realized that there was
nothing there that he could not have learned on his own. Was she
attempting to manipulate him, or could he trust his Jedi intuition?
The Clone Wars had raged for some time now. Wouldn't G'Mai
know more than this? She would have an idea what the larger game
was.
A game that Obi-Wan, for all of his experience and power, was ill
prepared to play.
"It is almost as if a stalemate is actually desired," she said. "I cannot
make more sense of it all than that."
"Why are you telling me these things?"
Her shoulders slumped. "I don't know. Perhaps because it is a
lonely knowledge. In sharing it, I become a bit less isolated."
If she spoke the
truth, then part of her reason for speaking to him
was that, being from offplanet, she knew she could trust him as she
could no one enmeshed in Cestus's power structure. If she could not
see any means out of the current dilemma, then this was a plea for
him to unravel a knot centuries in the making. He was not here for
this! He was here for one reason and one reason only, to keep Cestus
from producing and exporting more JK droids.
The Cleft Head cantina was filled wall-to-wall with stimulantseeking
customers, and it was not difficult for Ventress to blend in,
again using a portion of her Force energy to shield herself from Obi-
Wan's keen senses. He was one of the most powerful Jedi she had
ever met. She believed herself stronger, but was not so certain as she
had once been.
Nevertheless, his strength made the taste of her inevitable victory
all the sweeter.
Ventress blended seamlessly into Cleft Head's multispecies milieu,
observing without being observed. She enjoyed this risky game,
shielding herself from Obi-Wan, gliding close until she could feel his
awareness flutter, then backing away again, playing with the edge of
his perceptions.
The moment was so dangerous that it filled her senses, was more
potent than any fleshly pleasure or drug could ever be. This was danger,
in its rawest sense. To play with the senses of a master opponent
tested the limits of her emotions, emotions that she kept under tight
control. It was . . . intoxicating, yes, that was the word.
There. She came closer for a moment, allowed a bit more of her attention
to flirt with the exterior shell of his aura, which flickered in
her sight like a field of soft small lights.
In one sense, there was little risk: she could watch him, would
know if he was beginning to focus his attention on the exterior and
away from his conversation, and had every confidence in her ability
to withdraw before he became aware.
Delicious.
"Shhh," she whispered, so softly that she could not actually hear
her own words. "So close. So easy. He doesn't even know you exist."
A sharp uptake of breath. "No. No, there—he almost sensed something,
but you were gone before he noticed. He will scan. He will see
nothing. You are nothing."
She could see that there was some thread of communication growing
between Obi-Wan and Duris. Well, it didn't matter.
The Cestus Deception Page 18
