Star Wars_ X-Wing 08_ Isard's Revenge - Michael A. Stackpole [106]
He communicated his intention to Gate.
Gate replied that it would be suitable for the two boys to be made targets.
Whistler agreed. To relieve the boredom of the trip, the two boys had welded the cap to Gate’s head, then used powered-down blasters to try to shoot the ribbon that trailed after Gate as the droid ducked and dodged through the cargo hold. The ribbon quickly proved to be too tough a target for them, so they settled for shooting the droid. The number of crates being unloaded from the ship bearing burn marks gave testimony to how bad the brothers were at marksmanship, but in the confines of the hold Gate couldn’t dodge forever.
Whistler swiveled his head around, taking in a full view of the hangar area where the Worldhopper had landed. Oradin boasted an Imperial-class spaceport, but the Worldhopper had put down at one of the older portions of it. The center of the landing bay area was open to the night sky and, once ships touched down, a small tractor beam in each unloading bay would pull the ship into its own little niche. A dozen ships could be serviced at this one area, making it a hive of activity.
For a living creature, the chaos might have been overwhelming, but Whistler remained focused. Large holographic projectors filled the air with all sorts of advertisements for everything from upscale resorts like the Grand Oradin Hotel to places that offered tiny coffinlike spaces for sleep. Restaurants displayed endless assortments of dishes, all glistening, some still moving, to temp spacers tired of prepackaged fare. Machines large and small darted about, shifting crates from ship to ship, or ship to storage, with customs officials and transit agents all screaming at each other in loud voices. All manner of creatures and droids wandered around, some with clear intent, others moving furtively—causing Whistler to classify them as possible threats. Everything else he ignored because none of it was important to accomplishing his mission.
He asked Gate to keep watch on some of the threats, then moved over to a communications station and inserted his probe into the appropriate jack. He entered the MESTOP system with ease and fed into it the communications address he’d fabricated for any messages. The “Messages to Spacers” system took a little while to retrieve the single message that had been sent to him while in transit, and the message itself consisted of nothing more than a room number at the Grand Oradin Hotel and a span of dates.
Whistler confirmed that the present date was within the span and hooted with joy. He spun his head around to let Gate know they were in time to make their next leg of the trip, but only managed to get out a low moan. Gate echoed the tone and slowly rolled back toward Whistler.
In knots of two and three, some Ugnaughts slowly sauntered toward them. The little creatures avoided looking at them directly, but some carried restraining bolts and others the flash-welders needed to fix them to the droids. Lurking further back, a hooded Twi’lek flicked lekku impatiently at the Ugnaughts, encouraging them to be bolder.
Whistler hooted at Gate and the larger droid brought out his pincer. Blue sparks arced between the forks, widening the Ugnaughts’ eyes. They slowed their approach, which drew the Twi’lek in close enough for Whistler to get a good look at his face.
In seconds, using codes he’d employed many times with CorSec, Whistler sliced into the Spaceport Security Authority. He married the Twi’lek’s image to a fugitive warrant template, added charges of smuggling, slavery, and several other unsavory crimes, tacked on a reward of 25,000 credits, and pumped it into the system. He flipped a bit that noted the suspect was armed and extremely dangerous and a moment later the Twi’lek’s image