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“Max, we’re up against it. We have to do something right now; I’m not going to let them take Chewie’s mind apart. Can we deactivate defensive systems?”

The computer replied: “Sorry, Captain. All the primaries are controlled through that belt unit Hirken carries.”

“What about secondaries?”

Max sounded dubious. “I can get to the standby, but how will you deactivate the Viceprex’s belt unit?”

“I dunno; how’s he wired up? There must be ancillary equipment; the damn box is too small to be self-contained and still control this whole tower.”

Max gave the answer. Receptor circuitry ran through Stars’ End, built into the walls on each level.

“Show me the top-level circuitry diagrams.” Han studied them carefully, memorizing points of reference—doors, elevators, and support girders.

“Okay, Max, now I want you to cut into the secondary control systems and rearrange power-flow priorities. When the secondaries cut in, I want that umbrella shield, the deflector directly overhead, to start load-shedding its power back to the plant, but I want you to prejudice the systems’ safeguards, so that they notice the deflector droppage but not the feedback.”

“Captain Solo, that’ll start an overload spiral. You could blow the whole tower up.”

“Only if I get to Hirken’s primaries,” Han said, half to himself, half to Max. “Get crackin’.”

High above, Viceprex Hirken had realized that he was being played for a fool.

As fascinated as he’d been by Atuarre’s dance, he’d recognized in a fundamental, ever-suspicious part of his mind that he was being diverted. What he desired was to see mechanized combat. This dance artistry, though pretty enough, was no substitute.

He stood, fingering a button on his belt unit. Lights came up, and Pakka stopped playing. Atuarre looked around her, as if awakening from a dream. “What—”

“Enough of this,” Hirken decreed. Uul-Rha-Shan, his reptilian gunman, stood at his side, hoping for the order to slay. But instead, Hirken said, “I’ve seen enough, Trianii. You’re clearly stalling. You think me an imbecile?” Then he motioned to Bollux. “You ridiculous excuses for entertainers brought this obsolete ’droid to me purely as a fraud, never planning to give me value for my money. You’d hoped to plead mechanical failure and get me to reimburse you for your trip, or even reward you for your efforts. Isn’t that so?”

Her quiet “No, Viceprex” was ignored.

Hirken was not convinced. “Prepare that ’droid for combat, and bring out my Mark X,” he ordered the techs and Espos around him.

Atuarre drew herself up, enraged, and afraid for Bollux. But she could see Hirken was adamant, and she had her cub to think of. Furthermore she could do Han and her mate little good here. “With your permission, Excellency, I will return to my ship.” Onboard the Falcon, at least, more options would be available.

Hirken waved her away, preoccupied with his Executioner, laughing his humorless laugh. “Go, go. And if you see that worthless liar of a Marksman of yours, you’d be wise to take him with you. And don’t think I won’t lodge a complaint. I’ll have your Guild membership revoked.”

She glanced to where Bollux was being ushered down to the arena, helpless to aid him. “Lord Hirken, surely this is illegal. That is our ’droid—”

“Brought here to defraud me,” he finished for her, “but I’ll have my value from it. Now leave, if you’re going to, or watch if you wish.” He wagged a finger, and an Espo sergeant barked an order. Tall, stern guards fell in, one to either side of the two Trianii.

Atuarre couldn’t restrain her hiss. She grabbed Pakka’s paw and stormed toward the elevator, the cub bouncing along behind. Uul-Rha-Shan’s dry laugh was like a stab of hatred.

Down in the computer center, the readout screen, which had been showing a small part of the modification Blue Max was making, went blank for a moment.

“Max? You all right?” Han asked worriedly.

“Captain Solo, they’re activating that combat machine, the Mark X. They’re putting it in with Bollux!” Even as the computer-probe