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“You’re looking for assassins,” Cohl said.

“We’re not asking you to be involved in the act,” Cindar said. “Only the delivery. In case you need to soothe your conscience any, think of the team as a shipment of weapons.”

Cohl’s upper lip curled. “I’ll let you know when my conscience needs soothing. Who’s the target?”

“Supreme Chancellor Valorum,” Havac said carefully.

“We want to strike during the trade summit on Eriadu,” Cindar elaborated.

Cohl stared at them in amusement. “This is the major job you promised?”

Cindar spread his huge hands. “Your assured retirement, Captain.”

Cohl shook his head and laughed. “Who put this bright idea in your head, Havac?”

Havac stiffened. “We’re receiving help from a powerful outside agency, sympathetic to our cause.”

“The same one who told you about the shipment of aurodium.”

“The less you know, the better,” Cindar warned.

Cohl laughed again. “Secret information, huh?”

Havac’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “You don’t think the job can be done?”

Cohl shrugged. “Anyone can be killed.”

“Then why are you hesitant?”

Cohl blew out his breath in scorn. “You two must take me for a furbog trader. Just because I’ve been chased up and down the Rimma and all over this sector doesn’t mean I don’t keep an ear to the background noise. You tried to kill Valorum on Coruscant, and you fumbled the job. Now you’re turning to me, which you should have done in the first place.”

Cindar returned the sneer. “You weren’t interested, remember? You were bent on a life of moisture farming on Tatooine.”

“Besides, we didn’t fumble anything,” Havac said. “We thought we could scare Valorum into inviting the Nebula Front to attend the summit. He didn’t bite, so now we mean to finish the job on Eriadu.”

Cindar grinned malevolently. “We’re going to ruin his summit in a way no one will soon forget.”

Cohl scratched at his beard. “For what? So Valorum won’t tax the free trade zones? How does that help the Nebula Front or the outlying systems?”

“I thought you weren’t interested in politics,” Havac said.

“Pure curiosity.”

“All right,” Havac allowed. “Without taxation, no worlds have to worry about increased costs. As for the Trade Federation, we’ll continue to deal with them in our own way.”

Cohl was unconvinced. “You’re going to cultivate a crop of new enemies, Havac—including the Jedi, if I know anything about anything. But I guess you’re not paying me to think.”

“Exactly,” Cindar made clear. “Suppose you let us worry about the backlash.”

“Fine with me,” Cohl said. “But let’s talk about Eriadu. Because of what you pulled on Coruscant, security is going to be extra tight. No matter what you were trying to do, you’ve already undermined yourselves.”

“All the more reason to gather a highly skilled team,” Havac agreed.

Cohl put his hands on the table. “I’ll need a new ship. The Hawk-Bat is too well known.”

“Done,” Cindar promised. “What else?”

Cohl considered it briefly. “I don’t suppose you could do anything about keeping the Jedi clear of my trajectory?”

Havac smiled. “As a matter of fact, Captain, I can practically guarantee that the Jedi are going to be busy elsewhere.”

THE OUTLYING SYSTEMS

Edging into jaded sunlight around the curve of a tiny moon, two diplomatic cruisers closed on pale-brown Asmeru. In front and to either side of the crimson Corellian ships flew a dark escort of Tikiar fighters, resembling beaked and taloned predatory birds. Lagging behind, still in the shadow of the moon, came a pair of colossal dread-naughts with fanged bows and elegantly finned sterns, prickly with weapons and bearing the royal crest of House Vandron.

Light-years distant, etched into the star-strewn backdrop, loomed an immense spiral of light, attenuating toward a center of utter blackness.

Qui-Gon regarded the crazed sky from the cockpit of the trailing cruiser. Obi-Wan stood beside him, peering between the forward seats for a better view. The female pilot and male copilot wore the tight-fitting blue uniforms of the Judicial Department.

“Coming