Star Wars_ X-Wing 06_ Iron Fist - Aaron Allston [94]
Castin switched off the holocam and gingerly set the screen down beside him. Every move had to be precise and careful. He lay on his back in full stormtrooper armor, the helmet tucked in beside his head, and could still occupy only half of the smuggling compartment. He’d arranged to extend a holocam lead and a breathing tube out through the scanner shielding—turning them off while scanning was actually taking place—but the compartment had no other comfort conditioning, and he’d been sweating in here for hours. He stank like a bantha in mating season.
Tape held the mirror in place beside him. The mirror was a long strip of reflective material set up to adhere to the bottom and top surfaces of the smuggling compartment at a forty-five-degree angle so that anyone looking in would see the compartment’s top surface instead of the back. It was carefully situated so that it covered him but led anyone looking in the compartment to believe that it was empty at the rear.
Now he went through the actions that had gotten him here, but in reverse order. He detached the tape that held the mirrored material to the compartment’s ceiling and lowered it in place beside him. He carefully moved aside the supplies he’d loaded into the compartment, giving him a narrow channel for escape. He flipped the switch that popped the compartment door open, and then wriggled out into Narra’s main compartment—and into comparatively fresh air. He lay there on the floor for a few moments, gulping in air, then retrieved his helmet and other gear from the compartment and sealed it back up.
His plan was under way. He had to get out of the shuttle and hangar without the hangar guards noticing, find his way to a full-function computer coupler, slice his way in through ship security, and upload his program—then get back and wait. It would be tough, but he was a Wraith. He could do it.
And days from now, when Iron Fist was a glowing ball of superheated gas or a prize vessel in the hands of the New Republic, Commander Antilles would be forced to acknowledge that Castin had been right all along.
General Melvar and the Hawk-bats swept into a bridge that was a riot of activity.
A narrow but full-length dinner table, large enough to accommodate twenty people, was set up on the command walkway and more than half-filled with diners. Seated at the head of the table, his back to the viewports now showing the swirl of hyperspace travel, a vast area of brightness in his spotless white grand admiral’s uniform, was Zsinj. His hands were clasped over his expansive belly, his mustachios drooped rakishly, and his expression was one of great contentment.
The officers assembled at his table were engaged in vigorous conversation, but as the Hawk-bats entered the chamber they could hear none of it—it was drowned out by the din from the crew pit below.
There, uniformed bridge officers stood their watches with a startling unconcern for military decorum. Some monitored their screens while leaning back with their feet up on their consoles. Others stood in groups of three or four, eyes on their screens but their attention on their fellows. Several crewmen were huddled close to their screens, absorbed in low-grade TIE-fighter simulators. At one point toward the bow, two stormtroopers were engaged in a vibroblade duel, apparently a friendly one, but their blows still caused deep scores in their white armor.
They were all talking, a jumble of noise that made the chamber sound like a conference hall rather than a ship’s bridge.
General Melvar led the Hawk-bats toward the head of the table and had them sit before offering introduction. “Warlord, allow me to present you General Kargin, Captain Seku, and Lieutenant Dissek, honored representatives of the Hawk-bats. General Kargin, your host, the warlord Zsinj.”
Face offered a seated half bow.
Zsinj finally turned his attention to the new guests and smiled. “Good to meet you at last. Welcome aboard Iron Fist.”
Face said, “A formidable vessel. I trust we did not do her too much damage.”
“Certainly not.