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A highlighted portion of the hologram expanded into a close-up of the foot of the hill, where a system of containment pools and aqueducts directed water into a labyrinth of deep irrigation ditches.

“What am I supposed to do, just march in there and grab him?” Han asked.

Baffle chittered to Pip, who immediately displayed holograms of uniforms and identity badges, some of which were emblazoned with Salliche Ag’s corporate logo.

“We can provide you with the necessary clothing and documentation,” Baffle elaborated, “along with maps and whatever else you may require to familiarize yourself with the layout of the district headquarters and its immediate surroundings. We can also arrange for authentication by the security devices you will encounter, although it will be your responsibility to persuade the flesh and bloods with whom you come in contact that you are indeed whom your credentials describe you to be. It will also be your responsibility to locate and rescue Droma, and to make your escape by whatever route you see fit to take.”

Chin in hand, Han circled the holographic projections. “I’d need a concealable weapon.”

“A weapon can be provided.”

Han stopped and glanced around. “Not to seem ungrateful, but I get the feeling you’re not doing this out of the goodness of your programming. What’s the catch?”

The droids toodled and buzzed for a moment.

“In return for our assistance,” Baffle said, “we would ask that you do something for us.” New holograms resolved in midair, showing detailed views of the interior of the headquarters building. “In a room on the fifth level of the east wing are the master controls for a transceiver/rectenna array that serves as a monitoring system for this district’s several thousand droid workers—all of whom are outfitted with shutdown sensors that can be remotely activated.”

Han studied the holo of the master controls. “So the transceiver functions as a kind of remote restraining bolt.”

“That would describe it.”

Han grinned. “And you want me to disable it.”

“I might have used the word sabotage,” Baffle said.

Han circled the new hologram. “If you can arrange to get me past the building’s security scanners, why can’t you do the job yourselves?”

“The transceiver is a stand-alone apparatus, and the entire east wing is accessible only to flesh and bloods. Entry requires a palm print—”

“Which you can provide,” Han said, wishing Droma were there to hear him say it. He stopped to scrutinize the holographic controls. “Is there a code that will disarm the system?”

“Because we have never had access to the transceiver, blunt trauma might be the most effective course of action. However, we would be happy to provide you with a data card containing a machine virus that should serve the same end.”

“What happens then?”

“With the transceiver disabled, the thousands of droids Salliche Ag has already deactivated will be free to escape imprisonment.”

Han glanced from droid to droid in growing misgiving. “Let me get this straight,” he said into an eerie silence. “Salliche has a bunch of droids—er, you folks—on ice. Why?”

“Salliche Ag would have everyone believe that the employment of flesh and bloods allows them to boast of providing ‘handpicked’ foodstuffs. But in fact, the company is phasing out droid workers as a means of demonstrating compliance with the antimachine tenets of the Yuuzhan Vong. Tens of thousands of deactivated droids will be Ruan’s welcome gift to the invaders when they reach the Core.”

Han gulped. Credits to crumbs, the crew of the Trevee had selected Ruan because Yuuzhan Vong agents had already been there.

“You realize that shutting down the transceiver is probably going to touch off every alarm in the complex,” he said.

“Yes, but we can silence most of them,” Baffle assured. “What’s more, many of our deactivated comrades are stored at the complex itself, and once they are reactivated, we can unseal the chambers that house them. The ensuing confusion should aid in your escape.”

“Yeah, Droma and me’ll blend in real well with