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Lift platforms carried sealed, code-numbered crates of processed andris up to the surface, where a domed spaceport received the cargo for shipping. Armed vessels flew off to deliver the treasure. Each cargo ship received a percentage, and the remaining credits were transmitted back to Kessel.

Ventilation ducts and piping thrummed around the generators and cold-storage receptacles. Machinery protruded above and below, fitting together in a jigsaw puzzle of controlled chaos that offered a variety of small crannies and hollows to be used for equipment storage. Nien Nunb noted ways to make more efficient use of space. Perhaps employees from other areas could bring their storage items in here.

He studied the monitor panels and controls as the brooding Torvon stepped close beside him, towering like a tree. The Sullustan manager glanced at the pressure gauges of flowing raw carbonite and noticed that many of the needles had edged up into the red zones. He muttered in alarm and tapped one of the dials, double-checking the reading.

Torvon reached up out of sight and fiddled with one of the controls.

Nien Nunb assumed he had seen the same problem and was working to correct it.

Suddenly the gauges jumped. The readings went much highermuch too fast.

What had Torvon done?

Nien Nunb gave a loud squawk of alarm. He heard a faint creaking groan, saw that one of the coolant pipes close to him was bulging, buckling with the strain. He cried out and instinctively dove headfirst into a protected cranny between two huge pieces of equipment.

Torvon's knobby legs appeared, striding closer to where Nien Nunb had taken shelter. The Sullustan yelled for the secondary administrator to get out of the way, but instead Torvon bent over, his unreadable pale green eyes flashing. He reached into the cranny, trying to grab Nien Nunb. Couldn't Torvon see the danger? What was he doing? The Sullustan couldn't understand why he didn't get out of the way. A moment later, Torvon's hands clutched Nien Nunb's vest and began to drag him out.

Torvon was going to haul him into the line of the accident!

Just then, though, the groaning pipe burst. Too soon.

Gushing, infinitely cold vapors blasted Torvon's legs, right where he'd been trying to pull Nien Nunb. The carbonite instantly froze the tall administrator's joints, turning his lower legs into poles of solid ice.

Torvon howled in shock and tried to move out of the way, but his feet were stuck to the floor. The tall man bent over, tugging at his feet, but his legs, like sticks of brittle kindling, shattered. Torvon fell face-first into the blast of ultrafrigid gas.

The carbonite did its work, even as the murderous administrator's broken body fell, freezing his head and body core absolutely solid in the fraction of a second it took for him to tumble the remaining distance to the hard stone floor. When he struck the unyielding surface, Torvon smashed into a million glittering pieces. His hand still clutched Nien Nunb's vest-not frozen, but no longer alive.

The Sullustan manager backed up to huddle in the cranny again, terrified but unhurt.

Alarms sounded. Lights flashed. Automatic systems sealed off the breached carbonite tube, preventing further loss of the precious freezing substance.

Within moments the air would clear, though Nien Nunb didn't know if he would ever be able to drive away the chill in his heart. He had trusted Torvon-and Torvon had tried to kill him. Hadn't he? Nien Nunb shook his head to clear it. He didn't know what exactly had gone on here, and he doubted anyone else would give him the answers-but the Chief Administrator knew for certain that this was no mere accident.

Torvon had died, but the actual target must have been Nien Nunb himself.

When Anja headed for Kessel in the stolen Lightning Rod, it felt just like old times. She was flying in a ship as an independent pilot-just like the smuggler and expediter she had been for Czethros. She could take care of hersell She always had.