Star Wars_ X-Wing 06_ Iron Fist - Aaron Allston [130]
Zsinj’s general shrugged. “The lie was a matter of security. I did not underrepresent the forces we would be facing.”
“Yes, you did! My fleet would have fared better against Y-wings and X-wings. We did simulator training against them that we could have spent against simulated TIEs. That was lost time. I’ve suffered eighty percent vehicle losses, nearly fifty percent pilot losses!”
Melvar’s voice became soothing. “And you’ll receive the bonuses we promised for those losses, in the second round of payments.”
“There will be no second round! I want it all now. And not accounts—materials, precious gems, cargo. None of your datapad treachery.”
Face shouldered his way to the front of the crowd and frowned. “What treachery, Melvar?”
“Ah, General Kargin.” Melvar extended a hand back and one of his aides handed him a datapad. “Twenty-eight percent losses and an impressive kill rate. You’re in for a bonus on that alone with the second round. For now, your initial payment, as promised.” He offered the datapad.
“What’s this? This isn’t Imperial credits.”
“It’s all the information you need to access a numbered account where your payment resides. On Halmad. We thought that would be convenient for you.”
“It would.” He looked dubiously at the datapad. “And if, like Vibroaxe here, I want material goods?”
“You’ll have them. Half the value of the payment we negotiated. If we’re inconvenienced enough to have to carry hard currency and goods, we take a substantial cut. No negotiation.”
Face shrugged and took the datapad. “I trust Zsinj,” he announced. “Simply because it’s not cost-effective for him to betray us. Word would spread to every pirate band in Imperial and Rebel space. He’d never get anything but blasters in the teeth from them afterward.”
Melvar smiled. “As ever, the Hawk-bats make the intelligent choice. You have my sympathies for your losses. The woman Qatya was of special help.”
“Her efforts will, I hope, be long remembered. Until the second payment, Melvar.” Face brought the datapad up to his brow in a mock salute and turned back toward Sungrass.
Behind him, Vibroaxe Prime and others of the pirate leaders, more subdued, began accepting the datapads or negotiating for the reduced fees in material goods.
Sungrass’s first hyperspace jump was straight toward Halmad, but only a light-year in length. Its second carried the cargo hauler straight to the deep-space rendezvous point where Mon Remonda waited.
Not just Mon Remonda. Other elements of General Solo’s fleet were in evidence, including a Nebulon-B-class frigate, a Quasar Fire-class cruiser refitted as a light starfighter carrier, and a somewhat decrepit-looking Marauder-class corvette, a class of fighting ship normally found in the Corporate Sector. Wedge decided that Han Solo had to have cobbled together his force from disparate and overtaxed sources.
When Wedge reached the bridge of the Mon Calamari cruiser, General Solo was waiting with a smile and a handshake.
“Any word from the Super Star Destroyer?” Wedge asked.
“Fine, thank you,” Solo said. “You?”
Wedge grinned. “Sorry. How are you?”
“No, no word.” Han gestured at the holoprojected starfield that dominated the center of the bridge. Around it, ship’s officers, chiefly Mon Calamari, ignored the humans and went about their business. “Don’t be so anxious. Your pilots could use a little time to rest.”
“Piggy’s fighter only carries so much air, even with the extra life-support units he’s carried aboard,” Wedge said. “When it runs down, he has a choice to make. Try to run to freedom—which does him no good if he’s in the middle of unoccupied space, since that TIE fighter won’t carry him very far, assuming he can even elude Iron Fist’s tractors and guns. Turn himself in—which is very bad, for the usual reasons and some other ones, too. Or maybe try to sneak aboard the destroyer, very tricky. And we have no idea what Shalla Nelprin’s status is. So even if our comm control program is planted correctly, the Parasite