Star Wars_ X-Wing 02_ Wedge's Gamble - Michael A. Stackpole [34]
“Is that you, Antilllles?” The Rybets voice jumped sharply between octaves and added more l’s into the center of Wedge’s name than necessary.
“It’s me, Doole. I’ve got my first exchange to offer you.” Wedge looked over at Nawara Ven and the Twi’lek nodded. Wedge smiled tightly at the holoprojector. “I have a group of ten Sullustans. For them I’ll take Arb Skynxnex.”
“No!”
“No?”
“I am selling them to you, I decide what I am paid. Skynxnex is mine—he does not leave.” Doole hopped up and down angrily, then searched around until the metal and glass mechanical eye again spotted the holocam. “For these Sullustans I will give you Zekka Thyne.”
The name didn’t surprise Corran, but Kassar’s reaction to it did. The old man shuddered and Myda clung to his arm. They look as afraid of Thyne as Doole sounds. Corran raised a hand and Wedge hit a mute button on the holoprojector. “Commander, he’s too anxious. He wants to be rid of Thyne. We can get more for him.”
Wedge nodded, then unmuted the communications device. “Thyne isn’t of interest to me. I’d have to be mad to let someone like that leave this rock.”
“You will take him, or you get nothing else.”
Wedge pulled a comlink from a pocket in his flight suit and held it up where Doole could see it. “Rogue Leader to Twelve, you’re free to fire on warehouse number one.”
Doole’s image capered away from the holocam, then hunched itself over, as if the Rybet was looking at a monitor built into an unseen desk. Doole reeled back, then ran to the holocam. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“No?”
“Twelve here, Lead. I have acquired the target. Commencing run now.”
“Antilles!”
“You have something you want to say to me, Doole?”
“The Sullustans and more …”
“Twelve, abort the run, but don’t clear your targeting data.”
“As ordered, Lead.”
Doole’s thick purple tongue played out over the thin line of his mouth. “The Sullustans you can have. What else?”
Wedge turned away from the projector as if giving the problem due thought. Nawara held up fingers to indicate which of the target groups he thought should be added to Thyne’s ransom. Wedge nodded, then turned back. “We’re sending you the data on a group of five Bothans, including Esrca Plo’kre.”
“Plo’kre.” Doole’s mouth snapped shut, then he bowed his head. “Done. And Thyne brings with him another.”
“Who?”
“His cutter.”
Wedge looked back at the Forges, but they gave no sign of even having heard Doole, much less understanding him. “Corran?”
I know I’ve heard the term before. He thought back, then nodded. “It’s a spicer term, used a lot of years ago when Thyne was still on Corellia. A cutter is someone who prepares spice for use or sale. It came to mean someone close enough to a person that they could be trusted with cutting their spice. He probably means aide.”
Kassar’s head came up. “He means lover.”
Corran shrugged. “That, too.”
Wedge nodded. “Do you know who it is?”
Kassar hung his head and Myda answered. “We do. Her name is Inyri.”
Corran checked his datapad. “I’ve got nothing on anyone by that name.”
“You wouldn’t. She’s done nothing wrong.”
Something is not right here. Corran frowned. “You don’t get sent to Kessel for nothing. How well do you know this Inyri?”
“I thought I knew her very well.” Myda swiped at a tear rolling down her cheek. “She’s our daughter.”
11
“Is it a deal, Antilles?”
“Send them out.” Wedge hit another button that froze the transmission. On the other end Doole would only see a holographic representation of Rogue Squadron’s crest. He turned toward the Forges. “Say the word and we’ll make sure they are separated. We’ll find her a place to stay,