Star Wars_ Darksaber - Kevin J. Anderson [93]
Chewbacca snuffled with his damp nose, detecting the acrid odors of engine coolant, fumes from propellant systems, decaying engines in need of repair, and the bodies of a thousand species mingled with the exotic spiced substances they consumed for nourishment.
He and Artoo moved purposefully away from the Falcon, plunging into the grease-encrusted, machine-humming metropolis. They had credits to spend and information to buy—and Nar Shaddaa was the place to be.
* * *
Artoo jacked into the nearest “tourist information kiosk”—a thinly disguised directory of available black-market services and vendors. The smugglers didn’t even try to hide their real activities, though some of the cryptic descriptions seemed ominous indeed.
Artoo chugged through the electronic listings, searching for anyone willing to provide detailed information about the Hutts—but because Nar Shaddaa was a Hutt-controlled world, those willing to offer such dangerous assistance were extremely few; only one of the information centers listed Durga specifically as a resource.
Chewbacca attempted to decipher a grid map of the upper levels of the city. He and Artoo spent the better part of an hour tracking down the center connected with Durga and were disappointed to discover in the end that the office was merely a public relations front for the Orko SkyMine Corporation.
They endured a holographic propaganda presentation about the wonders that Orko SkyMine would bring to the galaxy. When Chewbacca began to ask the toadlike bureaucratic representative about Durga, the assistant flailed his long-fingered hands and curved his fat lips into a smile.
“You must understand, my Wookiee friend, that all information about Lord Durga’s activities is strictly confidential, to protect the identity of Orko SkyMine’s largest investors.” He blinked his lantern eyes and gave a thick-lipped smile again. “However, if you wish to donate a million credits, you could become one such investor and gain access to all of our files.” His leathery skin furrowed on his forehead in falsified hope.
The Wookiee and the little droid left indignantly.
Chewbacca decided to forgo the black-market services directory and began asking likely-looking vendors on the streets. He went through a hundred credits, bounced from one scrap of information to another—until in a narrow, dim alley he and Artoo finally found a decrepit old slicer whose face was a mass of oozing blemishes and flaking skin. The slicer carried his own portable terminal and a laser welder that he used to cut into the power sources and splice his input cables into computer systems, through which he would scrounge for information, undetected for a few hours or a day; then he would slip off to find another place to work.
The slicer took their credits and didn’t seem to care why they wanted information about the Hutts: he merely verified that the money was good and began tapping into the Nar Shaddaa computer systems.
“No listings,” the slicer said. “Nothing for Durga.”
Chewbacca growled a question.
“I didn’t mean there aren’t any,” the slicer said, speaking through swollen lips and scowling at his keyboard. “I just can’t find the files. They must be coded or passworded. No way I could get at them, unless I knew exactly what they were.”
Artoo gave a disappointed whistle.
“Wait a minute—let’s stand this on its head,” the slicer said, rubbing a finger along his lower lip, causing even more skin to fall off. He squinted his beady eyes in the dimness. “I was looking for files about Durga, but let’s do a broader-based search, track down anybody who’s selling things to Durga.” His fingers, though scabbed with sores and armored with calluses, flew over the keypad. A blur of numbers scrolled