Star Wars_ Fate of the Jedi 07_ Conviction - Aaron Allston [125]
Once aboard, he summoned the entire crew, seven including himself, into the small compartment that served as a dining, conference, and briefing area; it boasted one table and bench-style seating on either side, plus a chair at the end with its back to the compartment door. He took the chair. “So. Report.”
Sazat, a purple-skinned Keshiri male Dei’s own age, the team’s archive analyst, started. “This is an ad hoc negotiation assembly. Officially unofficial; the planetary government seems to know it’s happening, and it is technically illegal by the laws of the Hutts, who govern this world, but the government is not opposing the process, or acknowledging it.”
Fardan pushed a flimsi printout over to Dei. It showed a schematic of the camp with areas marked off in splotches of colors, most of them strident warm colors such as yellow, orange, and red. “Except for the shield and weapons emplacements, the camp looks fairly primitive, but there’s a lot of high-intensity communication going on. There are hypercomm units in at least two of the tents and four of the vehicles, including the Hapan vehicle. Enough broadcasting datapads to constitute a high-density pseudo-organic network.”
Dei glanced at the printout and set it aside. “I’ll probably need to enter camp. The shield generators are well placed, with overlapping coverage, so it won’t be possible to fly in close and drop an explosive missile on the landing craft. I have to get close to Tenel Ka Djo with something very powerful and very lethal.”
Fardan gave him an uncomfortable look. “She is a Jedi. An ex-Jedi. She has what you have, including a sense of impending trouble. If you approach with the intent of killing her, she will probably feel it. And we already know that her security detail is very, very efficient.”
Dei smiled. “It has to be done, so it will be done. What do I need to get into camp?”
Viti, a fair-skinned human female, the youngest member of the crew, drew her long blond hair back across her shoulder in an attention-getting fashion she did not realize was patently obvious, and then pushed an identicard across the table to him. “Corporate Sector identification. You are a journalist for Heuristic Financial Analysis working on a report trying to determine the effect on the galactic economy of slave species achieving freedom and demanding higher wages.”
Dei gave her a look that bordered on hostility. “That’s as revolting and unaesthetic a profession as it’s possible to have. You couldn’t find a way to make me a sculptor?”
Taken aback, she offered a nervous little shake of her head. “No one would believe that you had any place at this meeting. You would be suspected, mocked—”
“I’m joking, Viti. This is perfect. I’ll need a holocam.”
“I put one on your bunk …”
“Well done.” Dei pocketed the identicard. He did not mind putting Viti in occasional fear for her job or her life. She was far too determined to exploit her appeal. It could make her lazy or complacent. Occasionally a little shaking-up was in order. It kept her a good operative.
Dei returned his attention to Fardan. “I witnessed a delegation visiting the Hapan craft. One child, two droids. They waited until the craft appeared no longer to be under observation before they approached, and had an hour’s visitation. I’ve copied my recordings to your station. Let me know what you and Sazat turn up on them.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dei looked around. “Anything else? No? Back to your stations, then, and commence sleep rotation. And be not just diligent in your duties, but brilliant. Brilliance will get you noticed and promote you out of exile with me.” He smiled, rose before any of them could offer perfunctory objections to his self-deprecation, and left.
This time she managed not to scream.
Allana woke, thrashing her way free of her sheets, in danger of toppling off her bunk to the compartment floor. She stopped herself and rolled back out