Star Wars_ Millennium Falcon - James Luceno [107]
Poste winced.
“Work won't kill you.”
“Maybe not, but it could kill my spirit.”
Jadak laughed and shook his head. “You figure we made a mistake coming here?”
“For what it's worth, yes. Look at it this way, even if the YT didn't end its days at Bilbringi, think how many times it could have changed hands since Zenn Bien stole it. Five? Ten? And like you say, we're almost tapped out.”
“What's your plan, then?”
“We go back to Nar Shaddaa, pool our talents to earn some serious credits, and hire a slicer to work on finding out where the YT ended up.”
Lestra Oxic was probably doing just that, Jadak thought. But unless the lawyer knew as much about the ship as he did, Oxic would need his help in locating the treasure. Maybe that's how it would have to play out. Still, Jadak wasn't ready to cash in just yet.
“Let me see that blaster of yours,” he said.
Poste handed it over, and Jadak tucked it into the storage compartment that held their rucksacks. “I don't want you making Quip nervous.”
They concealed the swoop in the thick foliage and headed down the lane on foot. Just into the first curve they came upon a sign lettered in Basic.
“‘Intruders will be hunted down,’” Poste read, “‘and the wounded will be prosecuted.’” He looked at Jadak. “And you don't want me making Quip nervous?”
Jadak kept walking. In a hollow another quarter kilometer down the lane sat a small wooden structure with a landspeeder parked out front. “He's probably watching us already.”
Poste gazed about him. “I don't see any cams.”
“Macrobinoculars. Or maybe his eyes are still good. Raise your hands above—”
Two blaster bolts hissed over their heads, and a voice said: “Stay right where you are. The next stretch is mined, and unless you know the route, you're going to be whicci food.”
“The local carrion birds,” Jadak said, putting his hands in the air.
“And here I was hoping the local rodents would be picking our bones.”
“Zenn Bien told us where to find you!” Jadak called out.
“Is he still selling weapons on Yaga Minor?”
“The Zenn Bien we know is a beautician on New Balosar.”
A response was slow in arriving. “I've deactivated the mines. Come forward slowly and keep your hands where I can see them.”
Jadak nodded, and they began to drop down into the hollow. A frail human male holding a blaster rifle almost as old as the swoop was waiting on the structure's front porch.
“Do we call you Vec or Quip?” Jadak asked.
“That entirely depends on why you're here.”
“We want to talk to you about a certain YT-Thirteen-hundred freighter.”
The old man added frown lines to the wrinkles that grooved his face. “Are you the ones who placed the HoloNet message?”
“Yeah, that's us,” Poste said before Jadak could speak.
“What're you, writing a news story or something?”
“You got it,” Poste went on. “For the Coruscant Journal.”
The old man lowered the weapon. “Why'd you run the message for Quip Fargil, then?”
“We didn't, uh, want to blow your cover. Vec. For all we knew, you could've gone back to using your real name. Zenn Bien wasn't clear about everything.”
Fargil snorted. “Even she doesn't know the full story.”
He motioned them inside with a nod, Jadak giving Poste a brief look of bewilderment as they sat down on rickety chairs.
“Who told you how to find my cabin?” Fargil said, laying the rifle across his knobby knees.
“A Rodian at the spaceport,” Jadak said.
Fargil nodded. “That'd be Nido. Good-for-nothing can't keep his trap shut.” He studied Jadak for a moment. “I had no intentions of answering your message, but since you've managed to find me out …” He paused to laugh. “I mean, it's about time I told someone the truth. Most anybody'd care is probably long dead. But I am a bit perplexed. Did you arrive with the present owners?”
Poste swallowed hard. “The present owners of the ship?”
Fargil turned to him. “You mean you didn't even know they were here?”
Poste glanced