Star Wars_ I, Jedi - Michael A. Stackpole [142]
Nive raised a hand and cut off his subordinate’s protest. “And why did you bring us the shuttle?”
I sat forward in the chair. “Your operation impressed me. I’ve seen the newsnet stories about the raid—the shuttle’s escape wasn’t even mentioned. You successfully looted the Palette and Rainbow, and the New Republic did nothing, or could do nothing, to stop you. I was on the Palette with those people, so I know what sort of wealth you pulled out of them. An organization that can run such a big operation so smoothly has my admiration. It also can use my aid.”
The dark man couldn’t contain himself. “Your aid? Ha! We are Khuiumin Survivors. We are the backbone of the Invid force. What in the Emperor’s Black Heart makes you think we need you?”
I gave him a smile that was all teeth and in no way pleasant. “I outflew you, didn’t I?”
That brought a more conventional smile to the faces of Nive and the woman. She continued to work the coin through her fingers, though the pace had picked up. “You thought you would offer your services to us? As what?”
“A pilot. The datacard there will confirm I can pretty much fly anything you need flown. I’ve not driven one of the Tri-fighters yet, but I can learn fast.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have a vacancy in my squadron.”
“Make one.” I jerked a thumb at the big guy. “I can take junior’s place.”
“In your dreams.”
“My dreams, your nightmare.”
Nive laughed warmly, shattering the chill growing between the two of us. “Not quite how we do things here, Idanian. Captain Tyresi Gurtt here leads our elite squadron, Bolt Squadron. Members are elected to it based on performance when there is a vacancy. Lieutenant Remart Sasyru here has just been elected to fill the one vacancy in the squadron. Our Tri-fighter Wing does have five other squadrons, and there are vacancies in them. Perhaps, Remart, Rock Squadron would like to have him.”
“One more loser won’t hurt them.”
I again turned a smile loose on Remart. “I’m going to enjoy vaping your butt.”
“No!” Nive’s voice took on an icy edge. “The one thing you better understand about the Survivors, Idanian, is this: we do not prey upon ourselves. Anyone who flies against or kills another pilot is brought up on charges, tried and executed. We aren’t murderers like the Imperials. We are hard, yes, but we don’t fear those who are part of us.”
“I copy.” I glanced at Remart and knew I’d still watch my back. “You’ll want to check my records and get me tested on a Tri-fighter, but you’ll find I’m a hot hand on a stick.”
“That could be.” Nive raised a hand and I heard the safety catches on blasters behind me being slipped off. “First thing I have to know, though, is how you found us.”
“Sensor data let me identify the Backstab by its exhaust signature. A few more inquiries suggested the Survivors were returning here from Nal Hutta.” I shrugged. “Information about your relocation might not have been widespread, but it wasn’t impossible to find, either. I was owed some favors so I used them. As it is, only the scanner records in the shuttle can tie you to that raid, and now you have them.”
Nive smiled. “Except for the copy you left with the people you have holding Biril.”
“Now that you mention it.” I nodded. “I’m not a stupid man.”
“I hope not.” Jacob Nive offered me his hand. “If you are, coming here is likely the most stupid thing you have ever done. The good thing about that is that it’s also likely the last stupid thing you will ever do.”
THIRTY-FOUR
The Survivors might well have been the best of the Invids, but that wasn’t saying much in the overall scheme of things. The denizens of Rock Squadron all struck me as what Rogue Squadron would have been had we lost to the Empire and spent our time dirtside in seedy towns, waiting for a chance to plunder pitiful folks