"Near the Aida system and your waypost. Now I need your hairy master-Hunter's help."
Chenlambec muttered at her for a while, questioning Bossk's competence, his taste in food, and the keeping quality of the egg he had hatched from. Tinian pre-tended to translate: "Why didn't we drop out of hyper-space at the coordinates he gave you?"
"In case he was trying to trap me, of course." Bossk shot out his tongue again.
Chenlambec rumbled on. Tinian waited a reasonable time, then said, "He says that you and I must take cover inside a sensor-screened hold while he makes contact."
Bossk snarled. "You will be my hostage in case he tries anything."
This time, Chen said something that actually needed translating. Tinian repeated, "You'll have to show him how to operate your ship's controls."
"No, I won't. My personal cabin is fully shielded, and I can run the Hound from inside it."
Tinian turned to Chen. "Will that work?" She didn't relish the idea of being held hostage inside a shielded cabin.
Chen told her it would. Several minutes later, he sat alone on the Hound's bridge. Bossk had locked down all controls, but Chen laid his forearms in deep troughs on the console and studied carefully. Evidently Bossk used pressure against the trough surfaces to control thrusters in several directions. Main guns must be the right-hand claw hooks. He didn't see shield controls yet, but finding them would be Flirt's job.
He had installed her under the navicomputer. By now she should be absorbing data, dumping old mem-ory to make room.
A fuzzy object loomed ahead on the scanners.
That must be the waypost. His contacts back on Kashyyyk had felt it wise not to tell him where to find Lomabu III-a delaying tactic, to give Flirt time to con-quer the Hounds command circuits.
Chen hoped to hear Flirt's announcement of success at any moment. Plan One was elegandy simple.
The fuzzy object grew and resolved on twin trapezoi-dal forescreens. A drifting hunk of metal, it looked like a derelict ship. Sparkling microscopic debris swirled around it in rapid, furious orbits. The object seemed to invite scanner probing.
Before he could touch any controls, his scanner screen lit. Up close, it still looked like a derelict ship. This was no waypost: A dim but distinct dance of tiny colored lights would have identified it as genu-ine. He should have known that Kashyyyk would never risk letting a Trandoshan see the coding ID of the net-work.
But he had been promised something he would be able to read.
He growled at the bridge's main microphone: Bossk must focus the scanners into the orbiting cloud and vary scan depth until something readable appeared.
At every depth, it looked like spinning garbage. An eerie howling filled the cabin.
Abrupdy, he wurfled soft amusement. Some brilliant underground operative had programmed the whirling debris to give an audible scanner reading. It sounded like hundreds of Wookiees singing simultaneously, each following the others in a spectacularly complex canon. Each voice repeated a series of numbers. Chen isolated one voice and followed it through the series. They were definitely coordinates; but where did the series break and start again?
His young apprentice had worked as a musician dur-ing a brief undercover job. He growled at her.
After several seconds, she answered in the language of his people. "Start," she woofed in an odd soprano. She paused a moment, then barked, "now."
Chen punched digits into the Hound's navicomputer. The moment he completed a navigational sequence, its screen lit with a course. A very short course.
The Lomabu system was Aida's near neighbor.
He whispered to Flirt. Had she. ?
"Not yet," she signaled. "Sorry."
On to Plan Two, then. According to Kashyyyk's trans-mission, Imperial forces were scheming to entrap the Rebel fleet, using several hundred Wookiee slaves as bait. The Wookiees had been shipped to Lomabu III, a world recently depopulated for sedition against the Empire, and imprisoned there. Aida's Imperial Gover-nor, Io Desnand, intended to ship in dozens of females and cubs and then stage an attack. Rebel ships would probably try to rescue the Wookiees, and Governor Desnand could offer the Empire a mass entrapment. Obviously Desnand was after a fat promotion.
Plan Two involved liberating the Wookiee prisoners at Lomabu III and bringing down Bossk, one task at a time. In Plan Two, Chen (backed by Flirt and Tinian) would still have a clear advantage over Bossk (deserted by the Hound's Tooth). As soon as Flirt announced suc-cess, he and Tinian would subdue the big Trandoshan. Then Chen could attack the Lomabuan prison guards without having to watch his back.
Plan Three was more complicated, of course. It pit-ted Bossk against Imperial Governor Io Desnand, and timing would be crucial.
Chen's Alliance contacts who had created the "way-post" probably weren't far off. Their scanners might be trained on the Hound at this moment. He raised a hand in greeting.
Tinian sat where she'd been told to sit, several meters away from Bossk in the large starboard sleeping cabin. Bossk sat in front of a recessed console. His orange flightsuit fit him better when he sat down; when he'd stood, it had bunched up on his back. His long green-ish forearms lay in two deep, rounded grooves. He barely moved, but he seemed remarkably busy for someone who only needed to set a course. He must be feverishly probing that "waypost."
She already guessed it was false. Bossk must be bit-terly disappointed. but in his mind, the Millen-nium Falcon would be almost in reach. He would probably recheck this waypost after he completed this mission.
By then, it probably wouldn't exist.
She chuckled.
"What is it?" Bossk demanded. "What is funny?"
"The fact that we're almost there," she lied. "Those Wookiees are trying to set up their safe world right under an Imperial governor's nose."
"Oh. Get back to your cabin," gargled Bossk. "We will discuss strategy once I probe the Lomabu system."
"No drugs this time," she said sternly.
Acceleration made it hard to turn the corner into their cabin. She braced against a bulkhead until Chen slipped in behind her.
"Quick!" she urged. Chen was already unclipping Flirt from his bandolier. He plugged her in on the bulkhead.
"Security," Tinian scolded the miniature droid. "Hurry."
Extra g-forces darkened Tinian's vision at the edges before Flirt sang, "You're secure!"
Tinian struggled onto her bunk and braced her feet against the aft bulkhead. Chen reached down over her and secured her webbing. "Thanks," Tinian managed. Then she shut her eyes and waited for the lurch into hyperspace.
Bossk frowned at his monitors. The Hound had jumped successfully-this would be a two-hour hop-but one internal monitor had suddenly blanked. Had he lost power to the port cabin?
"Restore restraint systems inside the passenger cabin," he ordered.
After a moment's hesitation, the Hound's baritone answered, "The port cabin is fully secured. Would you like imagery from the starboard cabin?"
For a super-intelligent computer, it occasionally com-municated like a prize idiot. That was one disadvantage of flying a new ship. Bossk exhaled sharply. "Cancel request," he snarled.
Almost immediately, Chenlambec appeared in at the bridge hatch. He woofled and pointed at the control troughs.
Bossk would fix that short circuit later. The transla-tion circuit echoed Chenlambec's hooting before Bossk could shut it off and deny its existence. Translat-ing into pidgin Basic, it said, "Want sit bridge. You made us sleep before. You need me up here. At Lomabu we outnumbered."
Bossk eyed the Wookiee's magnificent pelt. "The Hound's Tooth is my copilot. I don't need you."
Chenlambec growled. The Hound offered, "You don't need. But I fly under you. I want assist."
Bossk kept his tongue behind his teeth. It would be entertaining to share the bridge with a Wookiee whose pelt he would soon peel. "Sit," he directed Chen-lambec. "But the Hound can immobilize you faster than you can touch me. And I can still kill your partn
er." He flipped his surveillance switch. The port cabin ap-peared on-screen. Tinian crouched beside a bulkhead, trying to pry off a sheet of metal paneling with her fingernails. Bossk pointed at her image. "If I find it necessary to immobilize you," he told Chenlambec, "I will kill her instantly."
Chenlambec muttered. "Too dark up here," trans-lated the Hound.
"It's light enough," said Bossk. "Sit."
Chenlambec sat.
"You're back on watch," squeaked Flirt, "or Bossk thinks so."
Tinian slipped off her bunk. "About time," she ex-claimed. "That must be one nasty computer."
"Not nasty." Flirt sounded prim. "Just standoffish. I like a challenge."
"As long as you don't get us killed while we wait for you, sweet thing." Tinian smoothed her shipsuit. "Is it safe to explore the aft bays?"
"If you take me along. Bossk thinks you're trying to take sheet metal off the bulkheads."
"That's creative." Tinian settled her belt over her hips. Besides a blaster, it held several tools that she'd need for exploring. "This is a short jump. We'd better move fast. Open the hatch."
It slid upward. "I've put a loop into his surveillance program," Flirt explained. "He'll see you try several bulkheads with your fingernails."
Tinian kept her nails short, but that image would make sense to a clawed alien. "How are you progress-ing with the Hound?"
"Oh," Flirt said evasively, "not as well as I'd like. He's one of those true-blue incorruptible types. He was more vulnerable from the bridge. I had to concentrate on this cabin while I was there, or maybe I could've accomplished something."
Chen had left Flirt with Tinian to protect her. Tinian had better make this trip aft worthwhile. "Thanks," she said. "Just don't let him see what I'm up to."
"Not me!"
Tinian grasped the small cube and twisted slightly. Flirt popped off the bulkhead onto her palm. Tinian waited a few seconds in case an alarm rang.
"Don't you trust me?" Flirt asked.
"I don't trust anybody." Tinian stuck Flirt into a belt pouch, then slipped into the corridor.
It was totally dark. Obviously the infrared-competent Bossk wanted to keep his passengers as blind as possi-ble. Tinian pulled a tiny luma out of one belt pocket and held it overhead. Riveted bulkheads curved in both directions, with inverted pyramidal fixtures along the ceiling. They looked like heat lamps.
"Stop me if we approach anything dangerous," she whispered.
She had barely reached the first side hatch when Flirt beeped. Tinian froze. Cautiously she pulled Flirt out of the pouch. She held the little droid up to her mouth. "What is it?" she whispered.
Flirt's voice was almost imperceptible. "Motion sen-sor," the droid answered. "One more step and you'll walk into its range."
"Can I go backward?"
"I think so."
Tinian slid one foot backward, then the other.
"Stop," said Flirt
Tinian froze again. "Now what?"
"I think there's a pressure trap in the deck just be-hind you. Don't move either foot."
Tinian held her position and swept Flirt in all direc-tions. She sniffed the air cautiously. Her uncanny nose for explosives would be no help if the Hound's security features were electronic.
"Okay," murmured Flirt. "The sensor's looking away."
As Tinian scooted forward, she spotted a tiny swivel-ing eye high on one bulkhead, momentarily pointed in the other direction. She slid beneath as it made a back-swing up the corridor. Then she slunk aft, staying as close as possible to the port bulkhead. At last she reached two large hatches side by side. "These are se-cured," she told Flirt. "How are you going to get me in?"
"There's got to be a power point close by."
Tinian held up her luma. The opposite bulkhead looked smooth, except for seams and rivets. "Where?"
"Take me across."
She sprang over. The power point would have to be obvious, since Trandoshan fingers were clumsy.
Tinian spotted an access well hidden in shadow. She shoved Flirt into it. "Hurry," she whispered. "I feel naked out here."
Flirt didn't answer. She beeped and tinkled like a miniature music box.
Behind Tinian, a hatch slid open.
She spun around, drawing her blaster out of habit. Nothing happened. Of course, nothing also would've happened if she'd tried to fire the drained weapon. Disgusted, she holstered it again.
"You're in," announced Flirt.
Tinian plucked Flirt off the bulkhead. "Next time, give me a little warning," she grumbled.
She sneaked into the cargo bay, leaving the hatch open.
This wasn't the bay where they'd stored their pre-cious lockers. Stowed along one wall, locked down by straps and hold-mes but in plain sight, was an array of weapons: force pikes, nasty-looking disruptors, knives, blast rifles, and tangle guns. All for hunting Wookiees, who only wanted to be left in peace.
Turning in place, Tinian spotted a long, shining ta-ble. She walked closer, holding her luma aloft. The table's surface threw reflections on the opposite bulk-head. A narrow channel ran along the table's edge, tilted toward a reservoir. At one narrow end of the table, a wicked-looking swivel hook hung retracted. A complex mechanism hovered above it, suspended from the upper bulkhead.
With those long, stiff, clawed forelimbs, Bossk was not dexterous enough to use a skinning knife. The au-tomated machinery would lower into place over a Wookiee corpse.
Shuddering, Tinian tiptoed past a dip tank for curing fresh pelts.
She did not find any of the acceleration chairs Bossk had claimed he had back here, but along the bulkhead farthest from the access hatch, she spotted five alcoves: meat lockers. Equipped with minimal survival gear, they were standard features on Hunt ships-the Wroshyr had two-for containing live acquisitions. These stretched from deck to bulkhead. Wookiee-size.
Bossk would fit into one nicely.
She knelt beside the nearest one, reached into her largest belt pouch, and pulled out a handful of tools. Her circuit meter identified a force-field generator at the bottom of the locker. It was probably triggered by motion sensors to trap struggling prey inside. She'd like to jimmy one or all of these lockers-
Abruptly she felt afraid. "Is something happening?" she asked Flirt.
"Bossk is busy on the bridge. You're safe-"
"I don't feel safe." Tinian's escape on Druckenwell still haunted her dreams. She had run, and run, and run, expecting to be spotted by her body heat and shot from behind by Imperials wearing infrared scanners. She didn't doubt that Bossk would kill her just as quickly if he caught her manipulating his equipment, and he saw in the infrared without scanners.
She sprang up and shoved the tools back into her pouch. "We've got to get back."
"You don't need to do that. I'll alert you if-"
"I've got to get into the other bay, too. We're proba-bly running out of time." Tinian hurried out through the hatch and across the passage. She shoved Flirt at the power point. "Shut that hatch and open the other."
Locks clicked behind her.
Tinian grabbed Flirt off the bulkhead and slipped across the passage again. She shone her luma against this bay's inner bulkhead, found a hookup for Flirt, and plugged her in once more. Then she shone her luma toward the other bulkhead. There was the pile-
A shadow moved. Tinian's blood turned to ice water.
Bossk's huge crimson-and-bronze droid rolled for-ward, halted, spun around, and returned to its station.
"You're all right." Flirt's chirp dropped a doleful minor interval. "He's totally brainless."
Tinian stared at the X10-D unit. "What?" she mur-mured.
"The poor creature's only an extension of the Hound's Tooth," Flirt explained. "He has no interior programming. What a pity, in a body like that."
"Flirt," Tinian reprimanded the droid. "Chen needs a data chip out of Locker Two. Get me into it-fast."
Ten minutes later. Flirt guided her back through the passageway. As they paused ben
eath one motion sen-sor, Flirt tweeted, "It's terrible."
Tinian froze. "What is?"
"That beautiful metal body, and no brain-"
"Flirt!" Tinian ordered through gritted teeth. Imagi-nary eyes crawled around on the back of her neck. "Get me back to the cabin. Now!"
The moment she reached sanctuary, she pushed Flirt at her spot on the bulkhead. "Erase any record that we left this cabin," she directed.
"You shouldn't worry so much," Flirt whistled. "1 had you perfectly safe."
Star Wars - Tales Of The Bounty Hunters Page 18