by K. W. Jeter
"You've done all right so far," said Xizor." It was your expert lying that got Boba Fett involved in the scheme against the Bounty Hunters Guild in the first place. He fell for it then, as he had no reason to disbelieve you. Similarly, he has no reason for distrust now. Fett has in his possession certain hard merchandise, as he and the other bounty hunters like to refer to their captives; namely, one Trhin Voss'on't, assumed to be a renegade Imperial stormtrooper. You, the assembler Kud'ar Mub'at, are holding in escrow the bounty payment for the delivery of that merchandise." Xizor glanced up toward one of the larger subnodes that held on to the fibrous wall near Kud'ar Mub'at." Is that not so?"
"That is a true and verified statement," replied the subnode called Balancesheet," regarding certain credit funds now on deposit in this web. The entire amount of the bounty for the Imperial stormtrooper Voss'on't is at this moment in our possession. Just as you say, Prince Xizor."
"And that is precisely something I'm nervous about." The subnode's creator fidgeted in its nest." That is a considerable amount of credits for me to be sitting on; perhaps the largest amount that's ever been here at one time in my web. I've always considered it to be a prudent policy to shift my financial assets into reputable planetary banking establishments, within the controlled boundaries of the Empire. Otherwise I'm just too much of a target, out here alone in empty space."
"Nobody would ever rob you, Kud'ar Mub'at; your go-between and escrow services are too valuable for too many creatures. Besides, I've stationed my own Virago close at hand, along with several other craft from Black Sun's operational fleet. Their firepower should be more than enough protection for you, until the bounty is safely out of your hands."
"That may be. . ." Kud'ar Mub'at didn't appear entirely satisfied with the answer." But is it enough to protect me from Boba Fett?"
"Leave the bounty hunter to me," said Xizor." All you have to do is play your part. For someone to whom lying comes so easily, it should not be a task to strain your capabilities."
He turned away, having had more than his fill of the assembler's protests. As he headed down the shoulder-cramping space of the web's central corridor, Xizor could hear the assembler sputtering and fussing behind him.
A short time later, another voice spoke to Xizor as he waited in the web's docking area for the small shuttle vessel that would return him to the Virago.
"Excuse me-" The small voice spoke from close by Xizor's head." I wonder if I might have a word with you. Just by ourselves. . ."
Xizor glanced beside himself and spotted the accountant subnode Balancesheet, dangling upside down from the matted ceiling of the area." What do you want?"
"As I said." The subnode's voice was a carefully modulated whisper." A word with you. On subjects that would be of mutual-and profitable-interest to us."
"Profitable to your master Kud'ar Mub'at as well." Xizor shook his head." I'm familiar enough with how the assembler's web is constructed. Everything here is spun directly from Kud'ar Mub'at's own neural tissue." Looking into Balancesheet's bright beadlike eyes, Xizor knew that he might as well be looking straight into the assembler's sharp, avid gaze. Why Kud'ar Mub'at was going through this pretense, sending one of his semi-independent nodes after him like this, was beyond comprehension. Does he think I'm so easily fooled?" I've already said to him all that I care to for the moment."
"I think you have misapprehended the situation," said Balancesheet evenly." As well as exactly whom you're talking to." Upside down, the subnode crept a little closer to Xizor. One of its tiny claws held up a glistening white strand of neurofiber. The strand was broken, connected only to Balancesheet but not to the structure of the web." You see? I'm an independent agent now. When you talk to me, Kud'ar Mub'at knows nothing of it. Unless I want Kud'ar Mub'at to know."
Xizor regarded the subnode with suspicion." You've managed to unplug yourself from the web? That's very ingenious of you-but how is it that
Kud'ar Mub'at is not aware of one of his valuable subnodes having separated itself from the larger organism?"
"Simple." Balancesheet reached over and picked up another, larger strand of fiber that led directly into the intricately knotted structure surrounding them. At this fiber's tip was another subnode, smaller and with claws almost too delicate to be seen." Kud'ar Mub'at is not the only one here who can create subnodes; I have mastered the art as well. This is one of mine." Balancesheet held the tiny, tethered organism out for Xizor's inspection." Its only function is to masquerade as me, to send neuro-signals into the web that falsely indicate that I'm still attached and subservient to Kud'ar Mub'at. Trust me; the old assembler has not the slightest clue as to any of this."
"Indeed." Xizor was impressed, both with the subnode's ingenuity-and the possibilities it presented. Kud'ar Mub'at had been getting on his nerves for a long time now. Perhaps the assembler's usefulness was already coming to an end." You're right about one thing. . ."
"And what is that?" Balancesheet's bright, round eyes peered into Xizor's gaze.
"We do have a lot to talk about."
13
NOW
He couldn't stop thinking about the bounty hunter.
Kuat of Kuat knew that he was wasting time; the past was the past, and couldn't be altered. There are messes that must be cleaned up, he told himself as he gazed out at the Kuat Drive Yards construction docks. That cleaning-up process had to happen now, in real time; the longer it was delayed, the more grievous the consequences would be. Everything that he had worked to achieve, that the Kuat bloodline had built this corporation into, might yet be wiped away by the forces that conspired against him.
He knew all these things, they weighed upon his spirit with the grinding mass of planets, yet he still found his thought returning, as though pulled by some even greater gravitational force, to the bounty hunter Boba Fett, and all that had happened in the past.
Fett was the key to it all. The key to what had happened then, and what must happen now if Kuat Drive Yards was to be saved.
There were things that all the galaxy knew about that past, the story that had grown to almost legendary proportions, about the breakup of the old Bounty Hunters Guild and the things that had come about after that. The capture of the renegade Imperial stormtrooper Trhin Voss'on't, and what had happened when Boba Fett had gone to collect the bounty for him. . .
Those matters were public knowledge. Or at least some of them were.
And other ones were secrets, locked inside the skull of Kuat of Kuat. He had to make sure they remained secret.
If doing so demanded the death of other creatures-specifically, Boba Fett-then that was a regrettable necessity. Business was business.
He would agree with me about that, thought Kuat as his gaze lifted to the cold stars above the docks. Boba Fett would hardly be able to blame him for taking care of business in as efficient-and deadly-a manner as was needed.
Kuat turned away from the high, segmented viewscreens. It irked him that there was so much that had to be dealt with, as soon as possible, and yet he still had to bother with distractions such as a summons to a convocation of the planet Kuat's ruling households. With a burden-laden sigh, he lifted the heavy robes from the carved stand upon which they hung between such events.
So simple a matter, and he was transformed.
All it took was for Kuat of Kuat to don the formal robes, the garb that signified his position at the head of the noble families of this world. He so rarely left the headquarters of the Kuat Drive Yards and his austere suite of offices looking out over the construction docks that his simple coveralls had become his unconscious preference. The same as that which the corporation's engineering and security staff wore, with no signs of rank attached to them; if those beneath him obeyed his orders, it was because they knew he had earned authority through more than just genetic inheritance.
Even the felinx, the silky-haired creature that he cradled in his arms, had trouble recognizing him in the robes, with their sweep of intricate, golden-threade
d embroidery falling from his shoulders. Kuat of Kuat, the master of one of the most powerful corporations in the galaxy, had had to kneel beside his lab bench and coax the animal out with soothing, enticing words. Poor thing, thought Kuat as he stroked the special place behind its ears; a purr of induced bliss sounded from deep in its throat. As with all the members of its decorative, pampered species, the felinx believed itself to be the master of this domain; it took interruptions to its expected schedule with an ill grace.
As do I. Kuat of Kuat had carried the animal to the office suite's arching, segmented viewscreens; he gazed out at the ships being built or readied for launch, massive commissions for the Imperial Navy of Palpatine. Enough weaponry studded the hulls to intimidate all but the most foolhardy of foes; the laser cannons being mounted into the open skeletal frames required bracing and recoil-dissipation casings that would have withstood explosions measured in the giga-tonnage range. Anything less, and a single shot fired in battle would rip a destroyer or battle cruiser in two, a victim of its own lethal strength. The contemplation of such an event brought a wry grimace of self-recognition to Kuat's face.
"We must always be careful," he whispered into the felinx's feathery ear," not to blow ourselves up with our own weapons."
The felinx stirred drowsily in Kuat's arms. As far as it was concerned, all of its plans had succeeded admirably; it was fed, warm, and content. Kuat wished that he could feel the same about all his schemes and machinations. Even now, forces that he had set into motion were circling about him and the Kuat Drive Yards, like the iron teeth of some invisible trap, greater than the worlds and corporations it seized upon.
He heard the tall doors of the office suite open; without disturbing the felinx, Kuat glanced over his shoulder." Yes?"
The head of security for Kuat Drive Yards stood in the angle of light from the corridor outside." Your personal transport is ready." As with all of the corporation's staff, Fenald spoke without elaborate formalities." To take you to the gathering of families."
"I don't need to be reminded," said Kuat," about where I'm going." The assembly of the planet Kuat's ruling households was the reason for his having donned the formal robes. And for his bad temper." I'm sorry-" The security head was one of his most valued staff, and had done nothing to merit sharp language." But this is all coming at a very inconvenient time."
That was an understatement. Even if all Kuat of Kuat had to worry about was the stepped-up pace of construction at Kuat Drive Yards, the constant pressure from Emperor Palpatine to supply the Imperial Navy with the ships needed to crush the burgeoning Rebellion, he would have had more than enough on his mind. But with those other concerns, some of which were secrets that he alone bore the weight of on his shoulders. . . it was a crushing burden.
Or to be more exact, it would have been a crushing burden for almost any other sentient creature. Kuat of Kuat closed his eyes, his fingertips automatically stroking the felinx's fur. If he was not as other creatures were, it was because he had been born this way, the hereditary chief executive of Kuat Drive Yards; the blood flowed in his veins of the other engineers and leaders who had preceded him. All that he had done, the schemes that he had devised, had been for the sake of the corporation. There were so many in this galaxy who sought the destruction of Kuat Drive Yards, who wished to disassemble it into bits or swallow it whole. The corporation's own best customer, Emperor Palpatine himself-and Palpatine's chief henchman, Lord Vader-were among that number. Kuat Drive Yards had had at least a few friends among the leaders of the old Republic; those had been swept away in the course of Palpatine's rise to absolute power. Now everything, the very survival of the corporation, depended upon the wits and courage of those who shepherded it.
And now, with all that going on, to have the ruling households getting on his case. . .
"No apology necessary." The security head showed a wry smile." When, if ever, would there have been a convenient time to deal with them?"
"You're got a point there," admitted Kuat. The felinx protested as he peeled it away from his chest and deposited it in a fleece-lined basket near the workbench. With its tail huffily erect, the animal jumped from its bed and went stalking for its food dish. Kuat brushed away the silken hairs it had left on the front of his robes." All right," he said wearily." Let's get this over with."
Fenald closed the office suite's door behind them, then followed Kuat toward the docking area." I've gotten as much advance information on the meeting as I could." Among his other duties, Fenald was in charge of surveillance-or in blunter terms, spying-upon the planet's ruling households." From all indications, it appears that the Knylenn Elder will be there. In person."
"That old fool?" Kuat shook his head as he walked. The Elder had always been his chief opponent in the households' deliberative council. Of all the families, the Knylenns had fought hardest-and over centuries and generations-against the Inheritance Exemption by which the Kuat line maintained its hold over Kuat Drive Yards." I'm surprised they managed to pry him out of his life-support systems."
"The younger members of the family are using the Elder as a front. So they had a new portable life-support system designed and built, just so the Elder could come to an emergency meeting like this." The security head raised an eyebrow." A very expensive system, too; it apparently has several redundant layers of first-degree droid intelligence built in, with constant real-time monitoring of all bodily functions. And get this: it even has cryo-storage of all-important organs, with total immune-reaction suppression at the cellular level, ready to go at any sign of cardiopulmonary or renal-hepatitic failure. The Elder could be getting a heart transplant as you were talking to him, and you wouldn't even know it except for the little blinking lights on the front of the unit."
"Charming," said Kuat." Of course, that presupposes that he started out with one inside him." He could see the docking area attendants up ahead, standing by the open hatchway of his personal transport." Who else is going to be there?"
"The usual cabal-all of the Knylenns, their tel-buns and their affiliates; the Kuhlvult clan and their
morganic allegiances; probably a good deal of the Kadnessi."
Kuat stopped in the middle of the corridor and looked at his security head." That's more than the usual."
The security head nodded in agreement." This is the big one, Technician. The Knylenns have been trying to overturn the Inheritance Exemption since before your grandfather ran this corporation. They've called in all the favors that any of the other ruling households might owe them-because they think they can do it now."
"Maybe they can." Kuat paused beside the transport's hatchway as the attendants drew back." Maybe I should let them. Then dealing with the Empire and all the rest would be someone else's problem." He pulled the formal robes tighter around himself to facilitate getting into the tight passenger space of the transport. He looked over at Fenald." What do you think?"
"That would be your decision to make." Standing with hands clasped behind his back, the other man gave a single nod." But it would be the end of Kuat Drive Yards as an independent corporation. No one else in the ruling families has the ability-or the courage-to stand up to Palpatine."
"I sometimes think," said Kuat," that courage is simply another name for foolhardiness." Gathering up the broad and inconvenient hem of the robes, he stepped into the transport." I'm old and tired-or at least that's the way I feel, so it might as well be true." He had to duck his head down to look back at the figure standing outside the hatchway." Perhaps instead of going and dealing with these tiresome creatures, I should pilot this ship straight to Coruscant. I could make a deal with Palpatine: if I give in now and just let him take over Kuat Drive Yards, I'd save him a lot of trouble. Perhaps in gratitude, he'd pension me off with enough credits to eke out a comfortable existence on some obscure planet."
"It's more likely, Technician, that once Emperor Palpatine has what he wants from you, that he would simply have you eliminated."
Kuat managed
a grim half-smile." I believe you're right." He settled into the transport's two-person passenger area." So I don't have any choice then, do I, about going and dealing with the Knylenns and all the rest of the ruling households?"
"No," replied Fenald." You don't."
"Then," said Kuat," my duties and my actions are one and the same." He turned toward the transport again.
Fenald laid a restraining hand on Kuat's forearm." However, Technician, you are not obliged to face this particular duty by yourself."
Kuat looked back at his head of security." What do you mean?"
"It's madness for you to go there alone. The Knylenns and the others are obviously planning some unpleasant surprise for you. You'll need all the help you can get."
"Perhaps so. But that doesn't mean I can have it."
"I hope you'll forgive any rashness on my part, Technician. But I took the initiative of contacting the Master of Etiquette for the ruling households." Fenald gave a slight nod as he withdrew his hand from the sleeve of Kuat's formal robes." And he gave a different ruling on that point of protocol. Since the Knylenns are bringing their telbuns to this gathering, the normal restrictions do not apply. Under the ancestral household code, the telbuns are technically outsiders; not quite true family members. So to maintain strict reciprocity, the household of Kuat is thereby permitted to bring in an outsider as well."
"I see." Kuat mulled over the information." And your suggestion is that you should accompany me."
"More than a suggestion. It is, Technician, my most urgent advice."
Kuat peered closer at the security head." Why are you so concerned about coming to this gathering? The ruling households of Kuat are hardly an entertaining crowd."
"As I said before-they're up to something."
"And what is your evidence-your hard evidence-for that suspicion?"
Fenald was silent for a moment before answering." No evidence," he said quietly," other than what I feel in my gut."