Star Wars_ The Dark Lord Trilogy - James Luceno [55]
The captain looked Obi-Wan and Anakin up and down, then circled them once, hands clasped behind his back. Eyeing the ship, he said, “I haven’t seen one of these in a while. But judging by the retrofitted cannons, I’d have to guess you’re not ambassadors of goodwill.”
“Let’s just say we’ve been forced to adapt to the times,” Obi-Wan said.
The captain scowled at him. “What’s your business in this sector?”
“We were hoping to find freelance work,” Anakin said.
“You were informed otherwise. Why create problems for yourselves by harassing one of our corvettes?”
“We felt that you’d been impolite—when all we wanted was to introduce ourselves.”
The captain almost laughed. “Then this has all been a misunderstanding?”
“Exactly,” Obi-Wan said.
The captain shook his head in amusement. “In that case we’d be glad to show you around—starting with the detention level!” He swung to two other humans in the detail. “Stun-cuff these comedians and search them for concealed weapons.”
“Can’t we simply pay a fine and be on our way?” Obi-Wan asked as the magnetic cuffs snapped into place around his wrists.
“Tell it to the judiciary.”
Frisks completed, the two humans stepped away. “They’re clean.”
The captain nodded. “That’s one thing in their favor. Search the ship and impound anything of value. And alert detention that I have two for containment.” Drawing a blaster from his hip holster, he motioned Obi-Wan and Anakin toward the turbolifts.
The crater docking bay was accessed by several corridors, some unchanged since the days they had served as mining tunnels, others reinforced by plasteel girders and dressed up with ferrocrete panels. It was apparent also that some of the turbolifts were housed in former mine shafts.
The captain indicated an unoccupied lift and followed Obi-Wan and Anakin inside. When two Gossams hurried for the same lift, he waved them away. As soon as the door closed, he lowered his weapon and spoke with a sudden urgency.
“We have to make this quick.”
“You’re Travale,” Obi-Wan said, using the code name he had been furnished.
“Things have gotten more complicated with the Bith. He’s slated for execution.”
Anakin’s eyebrows met in a V. “What did he do, murder someone?”
“Some sort of accounting error.”
“Execution seems a rather harsh penalty,” Obi-Wan said.
“Escarte Judiciary claims it wants to make an example of him. But it’s clear the charges were trumped up.” Travale paused. “Could have something to do with your being here to see him.”
Travale hadn’t been given the reason, but Obi-Wan nodded in acknowledgment. “If he’s expecting to die, he may not feel inclined to talk to us.”
“My thought, too,” Travale said. “But maybe if you could break him out …”
“You could arrange that?” Anakin said.
“I can try.”
The turbolift car came to a rest and the door slid open.
“Welcome to the detention level,” Travale said, back in character, and shoving Obi-Wan out into the anteroom beyond. Behind a semicircle of consoles stood five surly nonhumans—tusked and bald-domed Quara Aqualish—wearing Commerce Guild uniforms and sporting heavy sidearms.
“Show our two guests to cell four-eight-one-six,” Travale told the sergeant among them.
“Already occupied by the Bith—K’sar.”
“Misery loves company,” Travale said.
Executing a crisp about-face, he returned to the turbolift. Emerged from the enclosure of display screens, a four-eyed Aqualish led Obi-Wan and Anakin into a narrow corridor lined with detention cells. Thirty meters along he stopped to enter a code into a wall-mounted touch pad, and the bloodstained door to 4816 slid open.
Square and squalid, it contained neither cots nor refresher.
The smell of waste was almost overpowering.
“Word of warning,” the Aqualish