Star Wars_ MedStar 02_ Jedi Healer - Michael Reaves [24]
The two exchanged a calm look. Then Squa Tront said, “No, we haven’t. And neither has anyone else, because you just invented them.”
Kaird laughed, and his mask made the snorting, gurgling noises that to the Kubaz indicated mirth. These two seemed to be unflappable, an essential quality for smugglers.
Thula gestured to her partner. “In any event, should we run afoul of the fair sex, Squa has certain talents in that area. His methods differ from mine, but the result is the same.” The Falleen grinned. “Though you’d never think so to look at him.”
“I resent that,” Squa said. “Among my species, I am considered well above average in looks.”
“Not much to brag about.” But Thula smiled as she said it, and Squa smiled in return.
Kaird detected a warmth in the Falleen’s voice and expression, mirrored by that of her companion. An odd couple, indeed.
“Once hired,” Thula said, “we’ll be in a position to influence those with direct access to the product. A piece of easy. But—how much is it worth to Black Sun?”
Ah, now came the fun part. He had a lot of leeway in transactions like these. Two percent was standard, but he could go as high as 4. He would start by offering 1 percent of the net, which he could sweeten with a small advance, five thousand creds or so…
“Let’s not dicker like a couple of Toydarians,” Squa said in his dry, papery voice. “What say, we get …four percent? And a small advance, oh…five thousand credits?”
Kaird shook his head, and mentally cursed himself. It was hard to bargain with somebody who had empathic or telepathic abilities. He had a pretty good thoughtshield defense when he concentrated on it, but he had relaxed and let it slip. A good lesson in that.
There was something charming about the two—something aside from their hormone- and mind-manipulating abilities. They were a pair of likable rogues. This was to be prized. Emotions, thoughts, even the senses could be fooled in various ways, but spontaneous charisma was always in short supply.
“Done,” he said. “But since you can see things you ought not to be able to see, you know what will happen if there are any problems. If, for instance, you suddenly decided to abscond with a hundred kilos of bota to set up shop on your own? See what my thoughts about that are.”
Squa grew slightly paler, if that were possible. He swallowed dryly. “We’d never dream of such a thing,” he said.
Thula, her skin faded back to its normal pale green, added, “We aren’t stupid, or greedy—which is why we’re here, alive. You don’t need to be a Republic armorer to know a big gun when you see it. We do the job, we make money, you make money, everybody gets happy. And maybe someday, Black Sun will want to throw some more work our way.”
Kaird smiled behind the mask, which, after a heartbeat, translated it into the Kubaz equivalent—the short proboscis curling up and over itself. “Always a pleasure doing business with professionals,” he said. “I’ll stay onplanet until you get things set up and running, then it’s all yours.”
He held up one hand, palm-down, in the traditional Kubaz sign for agreement.
Both Thula and Squa Tront mirrored his gesture.
Excellent! A few days, a week or two, and Kaird could be on his way, leaving behind a new operation up and running, while he spaced back to more interesting places and things.
He headed back to his quarters to change his disguise, and an odd thing happened: a cool breeze touched him as he walked across the compound. He could just feel it through the heavy and hot disguise, and it lasted but an instant, so short a time that he wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it. He stopped and looked around, but there was nothing to be seen, nobody even close to him.
He scowled—the mask turned it into a Kubaz frown, curling the short facial trunk up and under, tucking it close to the chin. Kaird didn’t notice. A blast of air cold enough to feel even through all he was wearing? Coming, apparently, from nowhere? This was unnatural.