frank, for a Hutt. “There isn’t a single ship here at Thirty-two that would suit your purposes.”
“No,” the Hutt admitted. “But over at Gateway, there are faster vessels. Ours for the taking.”
“No, Randa. I won’t steal, I don’t want to be a pirate, and I don’t believe in your vision. I’m sorry. Now, I need a GOCU line.”
Sighing heavily, Randa slid away from the main comm board. Jacen settled in at the ground-orbit comm unit, drumming his fingers on its edge while he waited for his call to go through. He wondered if Randa might resort to intimidation, once it grew obvious that flattery wouldn’t produce what he wanted.
Jacen’s first call raised the Duros military, as usual. The Duro Defense Force was a nervous bunch these days. Admiral Wuht’s comm team was on the job this morning. Negotiating the usual runaround took most of Jacen’s next hour. Randa thrust his huge head through the door three times, demanding progress reports.
“Waiting for Admiral Dizzlewit,” Jacen murmured each time.
Finally, Jacen talked himself far enough down the line to reach a shipping clerk who seemed willing to check records. Yes, the shuttle in question had arrived at Bburru City. CorDuro Shipping had taken charge of the transfer. A CorDuro pilot had taken off with it, bound for Urrdorf City—the smallest Duros orbital city.
Stolen! “I know these routing checks are inconvenient for you,” Jacen said tightly. “You’ve done an incredible job, getting me this much. Many thanks.”
He cut the connection and flicked his comlink. “Dad?”
After several seconds, he got an answer. “Find it, Junior?”
“The Duros diverted it.” Randa’s monstrous head poked through the door again. Jacen pushed his chair aside and beckoned the Hutt forward, still explaining. “Dad, I think this would justify spending the fuel to go up and talk to them.” Han had taken Thirty-two’s outdatedI-7 Howlrunner shuttle up to Bburru twice that first week, talking to Admiral Wuht.
“No,” Han said firmly. “They don’t want to talk. We’ll think of something. Borrow supplies from Gateway, maybe.”
Jacen knew exactly what his dad meant when he said “borrow.”
An unexpected transmission called Tsavong Lah away from
Sunulok
’s villip choir. In that chamber, signal villips fashioned optical fields that showed long arcs of space, sent by villips positioned for relay. Images from Nal Hutta showed the seeding of microbes that would reshape the scum-ridden, pestilent planet—and its ghastly moon, covered with technological monstrosities—back into something fertile and lovely. Some of the organisms, bred by master shapers, would digest Nar Shaddaa’s metal and transparisteel into dust that would settle into lower strata. Other microbes would break down both worlds’ duracrete into sand for new soil. Still other bacteria would attack organic matter, including the Hutts’ bloated corpses, to enrich that soil. Buried under natural terrain, the world and its moon would live again.
There was also the matter of Mujmai Iinan, a lieutenant who had proposed taking Kubindi with half the usual number of coralskippers. Disgraced by the substantial evacuation of Kubindi, Iinan waited in a meditation chamber. In less than an hour, the gods would receive him.
Tsavong Lah was not pleased to be called away, but the executor’s report was worth hearing. Seated in the coral-lined privacy chamber, he glared at the villip’s rendition of Nom Anor’s dumbfounded face. “Not one
Jeedai
, but three?”
Nom Anor’s eyes widened even farther. It was unusualfor a warmaster to repeat information. “Yes, Warmaster. Three have been spotted now.”
The warmaster drew up to his formidable height, squaring his spiked shoulders. “Not by you.”
“By my agents. I scrupulously avoid their presence.”
“Their names,” Tsavong ordered, relaxing.
“Leia Organa Solo remains supervisor of this dome. My assistants alert me whenever she
“No,” the Hutt admitted. “But over at Gateway, there are faster vessels. Ours for the taking.”
“No, Randa. I won’t steal, I don’t want to be a pirate, and I don’t believe in your vision. I’m sorry. Now, I need a GOCU line.”
Sighing heavily, Randa slid away from the main comm board. Jacen settled in at the ground-orbit comm unit, drumming his fingers on its edge while he waited for his call to go through. He wondered if Randa might resort to intimidation, once it grew obvious that flattery wouldn’t produce what he wanted.
Jacen’s first call raised the Duros military, as usual. The Duro Defense Force was a nervous bunch these days. Admiral Wuht’s comm team was on the job this morning. Negotiating the usual runaround took most of Jacen’s next hour. Randa thrust his huge head through the door three times, demanding progress reports.
“Waiting for Admiral Dizzlewit,” Jacen murmured each time.
Finally, Jacen talked himself far enough down the line to reach a shipping clerk who seemed willing to check records. Yes, the shuttle in question had arrived at Bburru City. CorDuro Shipping had taken charge of the transfer. A CorDuro pilot had taken off with it, bound for Urrdorf City—the smallest Duros orbital city.
Stolen! “I know these routing checks are inconvenient for you,” Jacen said tightly. “You’ve done an incredible job, getting me this much. Many thanks.”
He cut the connection and flicked his comlink. “Dad?”
After several seconds, he got an answer. “Find it, Junior?”
“The Duros diverted it.” Randa’s monstrous head poked through the door again. Jacen pushed his chair aside and beckoned the Hutt forward, still explaining. “Dad, I think this would justify spending the fuel to go up and talk to them.” Han had taken Thirty-two’s outdatedI-7 Howlrunner shuttle up to Bburru twice that first week, talking to Admiral Wuht.
“No,” Han said firmly. “They don’t want to talk. We’ll think of something. Borrow supplies from Gateway, maybe.”
Jacen knew exactly what his dad meant when he said “borrow.”
An unexpected transmission called Tsavong Lah away from
Sunulok
’s villip choir. In that chamber, signal villips fashioned optical fields that showed long arcs of space, sent by villips positioned for relay. Images from Nal Hutta showed the seeding of microbes that would reshape the scum-ridden, pestilent planet—and its ghastly moon, covered with technological monstrosities—back into something fertile and lovely. Some of the organisms, bred by master shapers, would digest Nar Shaddaa’s metal and transparisteel into dust that would settle into lower strata. Other microbes would break down both worlds’ duracrete into sand for new soil. Still other bacteria would attack organic matter, including the Hutts’ bloated corpses, to enrich that soil. Buried under natural terrain, the world and its moon would live again.
There was also the matter of Mujmai Iinan, a lieutenant who had proposed taking Kubindi with half the usual number of coralskippers. Disgraced by the substantial evacuation of Kubindi, Iinan waited in a meditation chamber. In less than an hour, the gods would receive him.
Tsavong Lah was not pleased to be called away, but the executor’s report was worth hearing. Seated in the coral-lined privacy chamber, he glared at the villip’s rendition of Nom Anor’s dumbfounded face. “Not one
Jeedai
, but three?”
Nom Anor’s eyes widened even farther. It was unusualfor a warmaster to repeat information. “Yes, Warmaster. Three have been spotted now.”
The warmaster drew up to his formidable height, squaring his spiked shoulders. “Not by you.”
“By my agents. I scrupulously avoid their presence.”
“Their names,” Tsavong ordered, relaxing.
“Leia Organa Solo remains supervisor of this dome. My assistants alert me whenever she
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