Star Wars_ Tales From the Mos Eisley Cantina - Kevin J. Anderson [29]
And as she had seven times before, Shada would do her best to help them fulfill the contract. Because the other simple cold truth was that she had nowhere else to go.
But of course, Kellering didn’t know that; and from the look on his face, Manda might have just dropped a large building on him. “Oh, no,” he breathed. “Please. We need you. Look, we’re not really with the Empire—we’re funded by them, but we’re actually a completely independent research group.”
“I see,” Manda murmured, frowning thoughtfully. Making a show of the decision-making process, probably in hopes of stifling any protest on Kellering’s part when she finally named her price. With an Imperial-funded project, that price was likely to be high.
It was. “All right,” Manda said at last. “We can bypass your Captain Drome entirely and run you a forward screen net that should flash out the sort of ambushes the Rebel Alliance likes to stage these days. You said three days till departure; that’ll give us time to bring a few other teams in. We should be able to field a minimum of ten ships in the screen, plus a two-ship aft guard in case the Rebels try something cute.” She lifted her eyebrows slightly. “The fee will be thirty thousand.”
Kellering’s eyes bulged. “Thirty thousand?” He gulped.
“You got it,” Manda said. “Take it or don’t.”
Shada watched Kellering’s face as it went through the run of shock, nervousness, and discomfiture. But as Manda had pointed out, if he hadn’t already made his decision they wouldn’t be here. “All right,” he sighed. “All right. Dr. Eloy can cut you a credit when we meet with him this afternoon.”
Manda shot Shada a quick glance. “You want us to meet with Dr. Eloy?”
“Of course.” Kellering seemed surprised by the question. “He’s the one most worried about security.”
“Yes, but … where would we meet him? Here?”
“No, at the compound,” Kellering said. “He almost never leaves there. Don’t worry, I can get you in.”
“What about Drome?” Manda asked. “You said yourself he was pretty touchy on the subject of outsiders.”
“Captain Drome isn’t in charge of the project,” Kellering said with precise firmness. “Dr. Eloy is.”
“Such details seldom bother Imperial military officers,” Manda countered. “If he catches us there—”
“He won’t,” Kellering assured her. “He won’t even know you’re there. Besides, you need to see how the Hammertong’s been loaded aboard the ship if you’re going to know how to properly protect it.”
Manda didn’t look happy, but she nodded nevertheless. “All right,” she said, her hand curling into a subtle signal as she did so. “I have a couple of matters to attend to here first, but after that I’ll be happy to come with you. Shada can go offplanet in my place and get the rest of the team assembled.”
“Understood.” Shada nodded. The team didn’t need any assembling, of course—all six of them were right here in this tapcafe, with their two disguised fighters, the Skyclaw and Mirage, parked in separate docking bays across town. But it was as good an excuse as any for Shada to disappear from sight. Backups, after all, weren’t supposed to be seen.
“Good,” Manda said briskly. “Have the others here in Gorno by nightfall. In the meantime—” She gestured Kellering toward the door. “We’ll go deal with a couple of details, and then go meet your Dr. Eloy.”
“They’re approaching the gate,” Pav D’armon’s voice murmured from one of the two comlinks fastened to Shada’s collar. “Two guards visible, but I see movement in the gatehouse behind the fence. Could be as many as six or seven more in there.”
“Copy,” Shada acknowledged, stroking a finger restlessly across the side of her sniper’s blaster rifle and wishing Pav wouldn’t get so chatty