Darth Plagueis - James Luceno [16]
“Mostly,” Maa Kaap said quietly.
PePe slapped his hands on his thighs. “Goes back to what I said about asking for a lot more than what he might see as a fair price. These Banking Clan types hold on to every credit. But we’ve got ourselves a live Muun, and no matter who he is or what he’s pretending to be, I guarantee you he’s worth more than ten years of dealing in meattails and octopods.”
Maa Kaap broke the short silence. “Captain?”
“I’m not swayed by any of this,” she said after a moment. “I want him off our hands.”
A look of puzzlement tugged at Zuto’s features. “You think he’s dangerous?”
PePe ridiculed the idea. “Muuns are cowards, the lot of them. They use credits as weapons.”
Lah took a long breath. “You asked for my gut reaction. That’s what I’m giving you.”
“I’ve an idea,” Maa Kaap said. “A kind of compromise. We drop out of hyperspace and comm the authorities on Bal’demnic. If this Muun’s wanted, for whatever reason, we return him, cargo or no. If not, we decide on a figure for taking him to Ithor, and no farther.” He looked at Lah. “Are you willing to take that deal to him? Captain?”
Lah responded as if her words had just caught up with her thoughts. “All right. That sounds reasonable.” But she remained seated.
“Do you, uh, want backup?” Wandau asked after another long moment had passed.
“No, no,” she said, finally getting to her feet.
I’m the captain, 11-4D could almost hear her remind herself. Focusing its photoreceptors, it observed her right hand move discreetly to the blaster holstered on her hip. And with a flick of her thumb, she primed the weapon for fire.
* * *
“We’re going to have to keep you on ice for a bit longer,” Lah said when she entered the cargo bay. Plagueis hadn’t moved from the container that served as his seat, but his robe was parted and his hands rested on the tops of his knees.
“Does that mean you failed to reach a consensus?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Lah said. “We’ve decided we need to know who you are before we agree to provide you with passage. And since you seem reluctant to tell us, we’re going to check with Bal’demnic.”
Plagueis made his eyes dull with disappointment. “Captain, I’ve told you all you really need to know.”
The Woebegone lurched slightly. “We’re dropping out of hyperspace,” Lah said.
In his mind Plagueis heard Darth Tenebrous say: To we who dwell in the Force, normal life is little more than pretense. Our only actions of significance are those we undertake in service to the dark side.
“I can’t permit this, Captain,” he told her.
Her expression hardened. “I’m afraid you’ll have to.”
He had been aware from the start of the conversation that her blaster was primed, and now her hand reached for it. Sharp canines glinted in her slightly open mouth. Had he truly believed that a deal could be arranged with the Woebegone’s hot-tempered and immature crew members? Their fates had been sealed from the instant Plagueis had glimpsed the ship on the landing field. The possibility of reaching any other conclusion was fictional. From that first moment, all of them had been locked into an inevitable series of events. The Force had brought them together, into conflict. Even Lah must have sensed as much.
Plagueis said: “Don’t, Captain.”
But by then the warning was nothing more than words.
4: THE MEANING OF DEATH
The Woebegone had just reverted to realspace when 11-4D’s audio sensors registered unusual sounds from aft: an activation click, a prolonged hiss of energy, a dopplering slash, a stuttering exhalation of breath. The sounds were followed by a sudden outpouring of heat from the corridor that accessed the cargo bays and what might have been interpreted as a gust of wind. Only by adjusting the input rate of its photoreceptors was the droid able to identify the blur that raced into the cabin space as a male Muun dressed in a hooded robe, trousers, and softboots that reached his shins.
Maa Kaap, PePe, Wandau, and Zuto turned in unison as the Muun came to a momentum-defying