Star Wars_ The Black Fleet Crisis 02_ Shield of Lies - Michael P. Kube-McDowell [30]
“You’re certain?” he asked.
“Yes, Colonel,” said Taisden. “This is the frame of a Hired Hand CarryAll, a common self-stabilizing equipment sled.”
“Ownership?”
“The registry code indicates it is the property of a Hierko Nochet, a Babbet adventure guide and onetime acquaintance of Lando Calrissian. We believe that the general acquired this and certain other property from Nochet in a sabacc tournament two years ago.”
“Have you had it analyzed for biological identifiers?”
“It was swept immediately after retrieval,” said Technical Agent Pleck. “There are trace markers consistent with human handling, but I cannot confirm that either Calrissian or the cyborg is the source.”
“Why not?”
“Sir, it’s, uh, a bit awkward—we have no bioprofile of the general to compare it to.”
Pakkpekatt bared his teeth. “A flag officer of the Fleet? To say nothing of his history before joining the Rebellion, and since leaving it. How is this possible?”
“I don’t know, sir. We have found records that indicate his bioprofile was recorded at least three times, but the profiles themselves have disappeared. And the clerk of records on Cloud City refuses even to answer our inquiries, citing something he called the Founder’s Contract.”
Shaking his head, Pakkpekatt said, “Under his uniform, General Calrissian remains a smuggler and a scoundrel. Was anything else found in the sweep, Pleck?”
The agent frowned. “Yes, Colonel—though I don’t know what significance to assign to it.”
“Tell me what you can.”
“Yes, sir. We recovered a relatively large amount of an unidentified biological material from the facing of the sled—this area, here,” the agent said, pointing. “The quantity is on the order of two million cells—I should say cell fragments, because most were mechanically damaged.”
“Mechanically? As if these pieces had been used as weapons?”
“No, sir. The distribution was too uniform. More like—well, sir, more like you’d sat down and sanded the outside of the frame with a roughskin rat. I’m sorry, sir, I know that’s rather unscientific.”
“You said the cells were unidentified.”
“Yes, sir. And they may stay unidentified. The leading theory is that they may be artificial cells, a mechanism rather than an organism. The genetic sequences are much too short and seem to have little extro material. With your permission, we’d like to use one of Glorious’s hyperspace probes to send a sample back to the Exobiology Institute on Coruscant.”
Pakkpekatt bared his teeth. “See to it, Lieutenant,” he growled. “It should have been done when you first thought of it.”
The agent hurriedly left the room under the heat of Pakkpekatt’s glare, and the colonel turned his attention back to Taisden. “Was anything else recovered from the location where these were found?”
“No, sir. Nothing else. Stendaff is still on station, sweeping the area, but it looks clean down to decimeter resolutions.”
Pakkpekatt picked up the short section of sled frame. “A most curious kind of flotsam, Agent Taisden. Difficult to construct a scenario to account for it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are all of our people off Marauder now?”
“Yes, sir. The section came over with me, and Captain Garch had quarters assigned to them on X Deck.”
“Then I suppose I have delayed as long as I can, hoping that these foolish orders would be withdrawn,” said Pakkpekatt. “Advise Captain Hannser that I am releasing Marauder from this command effective immediately. He is to return his ship at best possible speed to Krenhner Sector Station and report to the commodore there.”
Taisden nodded. “I’ll see to it immediately, sir.”
Left alone in the wardroom, Colonel Pakkpekatt slowly cupped his right hand and began to smack it against the table, driving his friction pads against the retracted points of his nails. The pain proved unequal