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Corran sat back. “Nothing that size in private ownership, but it would be something on the order of two tractor beams, ten ion cannons, and ten heavy turbolaser batteries.”

“My calculations exactly, which leaves eight tractor beams, ten ion cannons, forty heavy turbolaser batteries, and fifty heavy turbolasers to be pulled off the Virulence. General Cracken, those weapons would pretty much replace what the Freedom lost here, wouldn’t they?”

Cracken frowned. “For having been here less than a week, Talon Karrde, you know more than I’m comfortable having you know.”

Booster shook his head. “Those guns aren’t leaving my ship.”

Cracken snarled, “The Virulence is not your ship.”

Karrde held a hand up. “Ah, but it can be. According to the Admiralty regulations governing salvage disputes, Booster has named a fair price for his share of the salvage rights to the Virulence. Since you can’t meet his price, he can assume control of the vessel by depositing ten percent of that price, in this case ten million credits, with a duly recognized judicial authority—such as the government of Thyferra.”

Booster frowned. “I don’t have ten million credits, Karrde.”

“No, Booster, you don’t, but you do have a lot of surplus military-grade hardware that you’re going to have to get rid of. I’ll buy it for ten million.”

Cracken tapped a finger against the table. “I’m no more comfortable with you having that hardware, Karrde, than I was with Terrik having it.”

“I expected that, General. I’ll sell you the weapons for twenty-five million credits.”

Cracken’s jaw shot open. “You’ll what?”

Booster smiled. “I want fifteen million, Karrde. I have operating expenses.”

“I’ll make it eighteen if you also sell me four squadrons of TIE fighters.” Karrde sat back in his seat. “And the price to you, General, is now thirty-five million, but you’ll find I issue credit more easily than my friend. Once the court here on Thyferra has reviewed the Virulence case, Booster will pay you whatever additional amount they decide he owes you.”

Corran laughed aloud. “The Virulence’s appearance here tipped the balance in the Thyferran war of liberation, so I suspect Booster isn’t going to owe much.”

“I suspect the judges here might be swayed by that fact, but the New Republic will be able to argue its case.” Karrde pressed his hands together. “Booster, you get your ship and, General, you get weapons out of his hands and into yours.”

Cracken remained silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. “You bargain very well, Karrde. Perhaps there is other business we can do.”

“No, General, I don’t think so. I did this for the obscene profit you’ll pay me, which, since you don’t have liquid capital available, will be rendered in trading concessions for bacta and other things. I don’t mind dealing with you, but I’m not of a mind to take sides in this civil war. Isard and Zsinj are two examples of countless Imperial holdouts. I’d like to avoid becoming a victim of future wars.”

“You’d rather be caught between us than with us?”

“I’d rather not be caught at all.” Karrde’s smile carried up into his pale blue eyes. “Have we a deal?”

“The Provisional Council will have a piece of my hide for this, but, yes.” Cracken stood and nodded to Booster. “The Virulence is yours. Please change the name.”

Booster stood at his end of the table. “I already know what I’ll call her: the Errant Venture.”

Corran smiled weakly at General Cracken. “Sorry I couldn’t have been of more help.”

“It wasn’t the solution I wanted, but it was a solution.” Cracken tossed them a casual salute. “Until later.”

Mirax glanced at her chronometer, then stretched languidly. “Two hours until Wedge’s party.” She smiled at Corran. “Any ideas about how to kill that time?”

Booster settled his right hand over her left. “Yes, my dear. We’re going to discuss this engagement of yours. My daughter isn’t going to marry anyone from CorSec—they’re all of low morals and intellect. Not going to happen. Period.”