Slave Ship

3

The news had come a long way. From one side of the galaxy to the other; from the cold vacuum of space, just above one of the remotest backwater planets known to any sentient creature, to one of the Empire's brightest centers of power and wealth. And where power and wealth existed, there was also the irreducible, unavoidable elements of intrigue, conspiracy, and deceit.

"We live in a universe of lies," said Kuat of Kuat. One of his hands stroked the silken fur of the felinx cradled against his chest. The animal closed its eyes, content in its ignorance. Its master's words held no meaning for it. Lucky thing, thought Kuat." We breathe in lies and exhale treachery, as though they were an essential part of the atmosphere."

"Sir?" Fenald, Kuat's head of security, stood next to him, close to the private reception area's great segmented viewscreens. From here, the construction docks and engineering facilities of Kuat Drive Yards could be seen, stretching out toward the range of stars spiraling in the limitless distance. Generations of the Kuat bloodline had first created, then transformed the corporation into the apotheosis of industrial production; at the fringes of Kuat Drive Yards, immense freighters disgorged the raw materials stripped from other star systems, all to be forged into the ships and weaponry of the Imperial Navy. Even as the multi-leveled disc of the corporation's physical plant slowly revolved on its axis, battle cruisers and destroyers bristled with yet-unfired armaments, the reinforced plates of the hulls welded onto the structural frames by articulated laser torches, the glare brighter than the depleted sun at the center of the former planet's orbit.

He was aware of the security head's puzzlement; the remark had come after a long brooding silence. All of Kuat Drive Yards' high-level employees, the innermost circle of trusted-and well-paid-associates, knew better than to interrupt these deep meditations. But sometimes, it helped to speak one's thoughts aloud. To a trusted listener; the head of security's instinctive loyalty was reinforced with a munificent salary. Nothing spoken would go beyond this sanctum's walls, carefully screened and swept as they were for hidden listening devices.

"What little genius that I have," Kuat of Kuat said at last," is inherited from my father and from all my ancestors before him."

Fenald gave a slight smile; he had heard similar words before." The Technician is too modest."

"Better that than too vainglorious." Overweening pride would, he knew, be the eventual downfall of his enemies. There had been a certain Falleen prince, with ambitions and ego nearly equal to that of Emperor Palpatine, whose fiery arc across the stars had ended in a fatal crash." But as I was saying-there is more to that hereditary genius than the mere design and crafting of warships. If that were all I had to do," mused Kuat of Kuat," then life would be an unending pleasure. But life for me, as it was for my progenitors, is not so simple."

"Sir?"

"Even under the old Republic, there had been political intrigues with which to contend." Kuat rubbed behind the felinx's pointed ears as he gazed out the curved bank of viewscreens." And rival engineering firms that wished to supplant Kuat Drive Yards' position as the preeminent military contractor in the galaxy. It's always been that way." He nodded slowly." But now, under the rule of Emperor Palpatine, the stakes involved in these intricate, unending games has reached a zenith of deadly seriousness. Our every move, on this board that spans the inhabited worlds, could have fatal consequences-not just for one man, but for even the mightiest corporations. I have little regard for my own fate, but the thought of the Emperor grasping all of Kuat Drive Yards in his fist, as has been done with so many other worlds and entities in the galaxy. . ." He fell silent for a moment as that thought evoked the renewal of a cold vow inside him.

That will never happen, swore Kuat of Kuat." I would rather see Kuat Drive Yards, my heritage and the work of generations of Kuats before me, utterly destroyed and in ruins before letting it fall into the control of the Empire." He glanced over at his security head." That's not an empty promise, either."

"As I am well aware, Technician." Fenald gave a single nod of acknowledgment." I have personally supervised the necessary arrangements, to ensure another outcome. If that time should ever come, there will be no Kuat Drive Yards for the Emperor to take hold of."

There was a certain bleak comfort in Fenald's statement. What can be built up, thought Kuat, can be leveled. The same engineering and design skills that went into the construction of the Empire's warships had been turned to the means of annihilating the docks in which they were built. A vision came to Kuat of Kuat, not of the series-programmed, high-thermal explosions that would render all of Kuat Drive Yards into smoldering scrap, but the aftermath, when the twisted durasteel, the remnants of the cranes and immense grappling rigs, would be as cold as the stray atoms in the vacuum surrounding them. The KDY life-support systems, which kept the vacuum and the power-supply reactors' hard radiation at bay, would be shattered as well; no living creatures would be left among the rubble. The apocalypse would come upon them, the workers and servants of Kuat Drive Yards and their hereditary lord as well, in swift fury; they would all die at their stations, the lowliest machinist at a turret lathe's controls, Kuat himself reduced to an ashen corpse behind the torn-apart grid of the view-screens that had looked out upon his domain. That would then be his monument, and the memorial to his ancestors, those who had also borne the title of Kuat of Kuat. Living observers on the nearest worlds would turn their gaze to the nighttime skies and see the shadow of the wreckage passing in front of the stars, writing a black glyph toward the horizon, an emblem of past glories that would need no translation to an alien tongue.

"I thank you for your faithful service," said Kuat of Kuat." It means a great deal to me."

"If it eases the Technician's mind, then it's worth it." The Kuat Drive Yards security head stood with his hands clasped behind his back. The glow of true belief, as inherited as his superior's title, was evident in his eyes." But the time of its use will never come; that is what I believe. Our enemies conspire in vain; Kuat Drive Yards will yet endure."

"Your confidence is also appreciated." Kuat wished he could be as sure. For there was more than just the Emperor and his endless machinations to worry about. The Rebellion had complicated everything, as though the gameboard had been transformed from two dimensions to three. Kuat Drive Yards owed no allegiance to anything but itself, harbored no great ideals other than its own survival and independence, a state within whatever larger state prevailed beyond the corporation. If that other, encompassing state were the old Republic, the Empire that had overthrown it, or whatever vision of universal freedom that the Rebel Alliance wished to bring about-that meant nothing to Kuat of Kuat. Eventually, one side or the other would win out; if it was Emperor Palpatine, or Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker and the forces for which they had become both symbols and leaders, all that Kuat wished to make sure of was that Kuat Drive Yards was on a friendly-or at least neutral-basis with the victors. Whoever won, there would be a need afterward for cruisers and destroyers, and all the other fearsome equipage of interplanetary warfare.

"The Rebellion. . ." Kuat of Kuat mused aloud once more, voicing the deep currents of his thoughts." Even if the Rebel Alliance is able to establish a new Republic-one with greater justice and harmony among the galaxy's sentient creatures than had prevailed before-certain aspects of human and nonhuman nature still would not change."

"Such is wisdom, Technician."

He and his head of security had discussed these things in the past. Mere greed and all the cascading layers of misunderstanding would be enough to dictate the presence of some kind of order-keeping force. And that meant armaments, and the ability to deliver their firepower across vast distances. The much-vaunted Death Star hadn't been a Kuat Drive Yards project

Kuat of Kuat himself had forbade the organization even making a bid on any of its subsystems-but the reasoning behind it had been understandable.

"Not just wisdom," said Kuat." But cunning." He repeated one of the lessons he had received from his own father, the Kuat of Kuat before him:" Force and terror accomplish what reason and understanding cannot."

The Kuat family had been in that business a long time, supplying the instruments of force and terror. His reluctance to get involved with any aspect of the Death Star's construction hadn't been based on a moral objection, but purely practical. Kuat Drive Yards' wealth and power came from building warships, and the Death Star, if it had succeeded in the Imperial admirals' purposes, would have wiped out much of the need for such expensive-and profitable-craft. A stupid creature fouls its own nest; only a suicidal one helps destroy it. With relief, and a measure of vindication, Kuat of Kuat had heard of the Death Star's own destruction at the Battle of Yavin. For the Empire to begin constructing an even bigger Death Star only meant that the admirals hadn't learned their lesson. Speed was not so important as maneuverability; the Death Star's hyperspace capabilities had not been enough to outweigh other elements of military force, such as numerical superiority. No Death Star could be made so powerful and impervious to attack as to outweigh the loss of those factors.

The security head displayed a thin, knowing smile." Cunning prevails, Technician, where wisdom is powerless."

"Exactly so." That age-old principle was what kept him from placing the services of Kuat Drive Yards at the Rebel Alliance's disposal. True cunning required cold blood, beyond anything that ran in the veins of any of the galaxy's reptilian species. Kuat had seen ample evidence of that ruthlessness in the Emperor-but what of the Rebels? He had gone over the reports provided by Kuat Drive Yards' own intelligence teams, the compilations of details, facts, rumors, myths, anything that could be found out about the Alliance's leaders, particularly this Luke Skywalker that both the Emperor and his top lieutenant Lord Vader seemed so obsessed with. But Kuat had yet to be able to make a determination about their innermost nature. All that idealism dismayed him; it was precisely that which had brought down the old Republic and allowed Palpatine to come to power. And now, with this talk of Luke Skywalker being a Jedi Knight-what could be more foolish? Kuat's ancestors had seen all that bright parade of honor and dedication, of belief in things greater than that which could be grasped by mortal hands, gradually fade away while the Emperor's power had grown, an eclipse swallowing whole the suns it put into shadow. The mysterious Force that had shaped the Jedi beliefs did not seem able to prevail against those such as Vader, who could turn it to darker use, use that consumed one's spirit even while one's grasp upon the galaxy's fate tightened. Better to trust in machines, Kuat mused, and in the powers that can be seen and felt and measured. That simple cunning had ensured the survival of Kuat Drive Yards. So far. . .

"And yet," murmured Kuat of Kuat." And yet, I would believe. If I could."

"Technician?"

He was aware of the other man peering at him, trying to decipher the meaning of the barely audible words." Pay me no heed." The felinx shifted in the cradle of Kuat's arms, its lustrous green eyes shut, its wordless dreams of satiated appetite and endless

warmth safe for the time being. That was all that mattered, to this small creature at least. It's got things soft, Kuat thought ruefully. If he had only his own desires, his own hopes and fears, to consider, then making the necessary decisions would be considerably easier. But with all of Kuat Drive Yards weighing upon his shoulders, with its fate weighing upon his shoulders, the lives of so many depending upon the moves he made in this game, the alliances he forged between himself and unproven allies, the annihilating hatred of enemies whose powers, revealed or in the shadows, spanned the galaxy. . .

The sleeping felinx stirred in Kuat's arms, as though sensing some wordless measure of his troubles. He stroked its head, soothing the creature back into the unworried sector of its slumbers. I'll take care of you, Kuat promised it. One way or another. Win or lose.

Beside him, Fenald turned away for a moment. The security head pressed his fingertips to his ear, listening intently to the buried whisper of his cochlear implant.

"The report has been decrypted and analyzed, Technician." Fenald dropped his hand from the side of his jaw." Perimeter intelligence stations have confirmation from their sources, with a reliability factor in the high nineties percentile range."

"Very good." Kuat of Kuat had expected as much. He had issued continuing orders that he wasn't to be bothered with rumors and baseless speculation. At this point, only cold, hard facts-the accurate reporting of the moves made by the other players in the game-would help him formulate his own strategies and gambits." And the details?"

"The ship known as Slave I, registered to the bounty hunter Boba Fett, was found drifting in orbit above the planet Tatooine-"

"Found by whom?" That was the important part. Kuat was aware that there had recently been a large Imperial Fleet in orbit above the atmosphere of Tatooine; it had apparently been lying in wait for an expected rescue operation from the Rebel Alliance. The Imperial Fleet was no longer in the sector-if it had been, Kuat's own bombing raid on Tatooine's Dune Sea would have had to have been aborted. There was still a possibility, though, that the Imperial Navy might have left a few reconnaissance ships behind.

"Slave I was found by a routine security patrol of the Rebel Alliance." The Kuat Drive Yards security head's memory was enhanced by a loop-recall data-organizing module, controlled by the barely noticeable tensing of his facial muscles." For some time now, the Empire has ceded control of that sector to the Alliance, inasmuch as it has little apparent strategic value. That may change, of course, when we deliver the new additions to the Imperial Fleet."

That was Kuat's own analysis of the situation. Tatooine was at the edge of the galaxy, far from the important and highly developed sectors that formed the core of the Empire. Palpatine could write off the entire zone and it would result in little real loss, either economically or militarily. At least in the short run-but leaving the sector in the hands of the Alliance would certainly give Palpatine's foes a development and staging area for the rest of their campaign against the Empire. Sooner or later, Imperial ships and troops would have to sweep through the sector and reestablish control; the Empire couldn't tolerate this festering-and rapidly expanding-wound in its side.

More than that, Kuat knew, would dictate the eventual offensive, the deadly tools for which were even now being constructed in the Kuat Drive Yards docks. There was also the Emperor's own personality, if that term could be applied to something that had been so utterly consumed by unchecked egomania and the dark powers that he commanded. In some ways, it could be argued-and Kuat had certainly done so, in late-night conversations with his security head-that Emperor Palpatine, as such, had already ceased to exist. Kuat had heard the stories of Palpatine's dedication to what he termed the dark side of the Force; whether such a mysterious energy field, underlying the very fabric of the universe, actually existed or not was of no concern to an engineer and scientist such as himself. But to the self-schooled psychologist that Kuat was, and the political intriguer that he had been forced to become, it mattered a great deal. The Force might only exist in the minds of the Emperor and a few other die-hard believers in the old religion, such as Darth Vader; that made it real enough to demand Kuat's attention. He had had a few face-to-face encounters with the Emperor and the Dark Lord of the Sith, representing his inherited corporation in the business negotiations upon which Kuat Drive Yards depended. At the last such meeting, Kuat of Kuat had received the unsettling impression that the physical body of the Emperor, that hooded and wrinkled form, was no more than a shell, hollowed from the inside by the Force in which Palpatine had placed so much of his own psychic energy. The small eyes buried in their sockets of crepelike tissue had seemed to Kuat like holes poked through a mask worn by a no-longer human entity, something from which all life had been drained, leaving only ravenous hunger and the desire for control over those creatures that still breathed and moved of their own volition. Something still called itself Emperor Palpatine, and spoke with the same wily, mocking tongue-but the words were those of an entity not only dead but embodying Death itself, a Force that consumed the energies of Life as its food.

Kuat remembered something else from his last encounter with the Emperor: a deep sense of being offended, not so much as a living creature but as a businessman, the guiding intelligence of one of the galaxy's largest and most powerful corporations. Where are the customers going to come from? The problem with Palpatine's vision of the future, an Empire where his word and his will were the only ones that mattered, was that it was just not a commercially viable environment. What would be the point of Kuat Drive Yards, or any other of the galaxy's great manufacturing concerns, designing and creating products to be sold on one planet or a thousand, if there was no one on those worlds to buy them? More than anyone, Kuat of Kuat was aware of the destructive capability of the warships that his firm was constructing for the Imperial Navy. For the Emperor to succeed in his ambitions, his mania for universal control-and for him to turn back the threat of the Rebel Alliance-all that would mean the destruction of any number of inoffensive and otherwise prosperous worlds. Potential clients, mused Kuat-if not directly for his corporation's products, then for other companies with whom he had already done business. The Emperor had already shown his disregard for maintaining the galaxy's customer base, by sanctioning the late Governor Tarkin's destruction of the planet Alderaan with the massive firepower of the original Death Star. That had personally rankled Kuat; there had been an outstanding contract with the local government on Alderaan for a utility fleet of perimeter observation scouts and orbital customs stations, all to be furnished at a considerable profit by Kuat Drive Yards. The units had just been about ready to leave the KDY construction docks and head off in a delivery flotilla to Alderaan when the word of their destination being reduced to a few charred ashes drifting in navigable space had reached Kuat of Kuat. A near-total write-down for the corporation, salvageable only in part by breaking up the undelivered vessels and recycling some of their components into the next order for Imperial battle cruisers. For a while, he had considered presenting a bill to Emperor Palpatine, for the losses sustained by Kuat Drive Yards, but had at last decided not to push the issue. Better to leave the red ink on the books, Kuat had figured, than make an enemy out of one's biggest remaining customer. Even with Prince Xizor gone, things were still dangerous enough at Palpatine's court, with all the various levels of intrigue constantly going on, without handing another weapon to the corporation's enemies.

"So the Rebel Alliance has Boba Fett's ship." Kuat brought himself back to the situation at hand. The deeper concerns over which he mulled would have to wait a while longer for their final resolution." And it has been confirmed that this is in fact Slave 7?"

It was a good question. Boba Fett's personal history was studded with occasions in which the bounty hunter had passed off a ringer vehicle as his distinctive ship. For someone whose skills consisted largely of handing out other creatures' deaths, Fett had an unusual talent for faking his own demise. Or perhaps that talent was to be expected-Kuat wasn't sure which. Life and death were the same for a bounty hunter; it was all merchandise, with different values attached, depending upon the marketplace. Boba Fett or any of his colleagues-they were all just as happy to deliver a corpse as well as a living hostage, if the same payoff could be gotten for it. With that kind of attitude, it was no wonder that one's own death became just a matter of strategy and negotiation.

The head of security gave a single nod." Our sources in the Alliance have concluded that there is no deception involved-as least as far as the identity of the intercepted ship is concerned. The subcode numbers on the engines' shield regulator devices have been read out-" He tapped the side of his head, where the cochlear implants were hidden." Those were in the message that was received just now. I forwarded them to our records department; the numbers match up with the original construction manifest for Slave I."

"That settles the issue, then." Kuat of Kuat had personally supervised the design and assembly of Boba Fett's ship; there had been some custom features that still distinguished Slave I as a state-of-the-art job. An ID profile, the signal that was transmitted from one ship to another with the critical name and affiliation data, could be faked-not easily, but with enough determination and technical expertise, it could be done. Unbeknownst to the Empire or any other Kuat Drive Yards customer, every ship that left the construction docks had a trapdoor access routine hardwired into its onboard computers, for just that purpose. For Boba Fett to have overridden Slave I's regulator subcodes, though, would have meant risking a catastrophic core meltdown; there wouldn't be a ship left floating around to be misidentified. Ergo, this ship was Fett's and no other." Did our sources have any other information about the ship? The contents, perhaps?"

A shake of the head." Other than it being unoccupied-nothing. The Rebel Alliance forces that found the ship are still examining it."

"They won't find anything," said Kuat of Kuat.

"What makes you so sure, Technician? Boba Fett was involved in a great many activities that depended upon maintaining secrecy." The security head clasped his hands behind the small of his back." I would have thought it stood to reason that there might be some. . . intriguing traces of Fett's past aboard his ship."

"Oh, there very well might be." Kuat gave a shrug as he stroked the animal nestled in his arms." And if you knew where to look, and if you had at least some idea of what you were looking for-and you were sufficiently motivated to begin with-you might be able to find them. But there's nobody associated with the Rebel Alliance who's capable of that kind of investigation. The Rebels are at a critical stage in their campaign against the Empire, and the crisis isn't likely to end anytime soon. They're not going to waste their precious time going over the ship of a dead bounty hunter-as they're likely to believe Boba Fett to be-with a fine-tooth comb. It'll be a moral issue with them." Kuat shook his head, pityingly." As much disdain as the Imperial Navy has for bounty hunters and other semicriminal types, it's even worse with the Rebels. When you think you're finer and truer and more virtuous than your opponents, it's all too easy to fall into a blinding self-righteousness." That had never been a problem for Kuat himself; he was comfortable at any moral level, from the stars to the gutters, as long as it helped ensure the survival of Kuat Drive Yards. He could deal with anybody; doing business with Emperor Palpatine and his admirals proved as much." The Rebel Alliance will give Fett's ship a cursory going-over," said Kuat," and then they'll try to dispose of it as quickly as possible."

"Of course." The security head nodded slowly, digesting the other's superior wisdom." I imagine they'll

be able to get a pretty good price for Slave I. Considering what an expensive piece of goods it was to begin with-salvage value should be high. Any number of other bounty hunters would want it for their own personal vessel."

"Possibly," agreed Kuat. His head of security knew what he was talking about. When Boba Fett had ordered the construction and outfitting of the vessel, the bounty hunter had stipulated some expensive custom details. Kuat Drive Yards' accountants had demanded full payment up-front even before the ship's basic hull had been welded together. The design parameters that Fett had stipulated took the science-and the art-of small-craft development to a new level, one that Kuat himself had been only idly dreaming of, setting out a few concept sketches in his off-hours, before the actual job had manifested itself into reality. The advance payment had been for two reasons that had outweighed Kuat's innate desire to build such a ship: given the amount of time and resources that would be required to prototype, test, and finalize some of the unit's engine and maneuverability components, all the way from scratch to end product, and given the hazardous nature of the customer's line of work, said customer might well have been dead by the time Slave I had been ready to leave the docks. That would have been reason enough to demand the payment at the start of the process; the other reason lay in the nature of the ship itself, when it was completed. Anything that extreme in design was fully capable of killing the pilot on its first shakedown run, if the overpowered engines got away from him and tore apart the dura-steel frame like a collection of wooden twigs. Better to collect the money well before the customer succeeded in annihilating himself.

That hadn't happened. The combination of Boba Fett's pilot skills and Kuat of Kuat's design genius had resulted in Slave I being recognized-and feared-across the galaxy. A ship didn't have to be as big and overwhelming as an Imperial battle cruiser-or a Death Star-to have the necessary psychological effect.

Standing next to Kuat, the head of security raised an eyebrow." I would have thought it a certainty," he said," that the bidding for such a desirable item would be rather fierce."

"It would be-if the prospective purchasers thought there was nothing wrong with the ship." Kuat displayed a thin smile." Of course, sentient creatures often get interesting ideas planted into their heads. Especially when someone such as Boba Fett is concerned-perhaps even more so now that he's thought of as the late Boba Fett. Bounty hunters and similar entities have their little superstitions, their fears and suspicions-not all of which are groundless, either. It's well known that Boba Fett had a considerable degree of security systems wired into Slave I; only a fool would assume that those had been deactivated by the original owner's demise. It's one thing to buy a used ship; it's another to buy a death trap."

"Ah." The security head nodded." And if rumors, little hints about the unpleasant surprises that might be encountered by the new owner of Slave I, were to begin circulating in the appropriate territories. . ."

"Then the price might go down considerably." The felinx in Kuat's arms purred, as if it too were pleased by this notion." And if the price goes down, so does the attention paid to the eventual sale-that's how psychology works for all sentient creatures. If they're no longer interested in a certain item, then they don't much care who is."

"Which would mean," said Fenald," that when the Rebel Alliance finally puts Slave I up for sale,

when they've finished their superficial examination of it, then the ship could not only be purchased for a bargain price, but also with a considerable amount of discretion."

"Exactly." Kuat of Kuat continued watching the launch preparations at the main construction dock." Have one of our subsidiary corporations look into it-a components supplier, perhaps, but make sure that there isn't an obvious ownership trail back to Kuat Drive Yards. Transfer enough funds from one of my personal operating accounts, so that they'll be able to make the purchase when it happens. Instruct their chief negotiator to contact the Rebel Alliance as soon as possible, and see if they'll accept a preemptory bid; that way, the ship won't even come up on the open market and we won't have to deal with any other interested parties."

"And the rumor campaign? Concerning the dangers of purchasing Boba Fett's ship?"

"That should go into immediate high-speed propagation, to all points of the galaxy, radiating outward from Tatooine-that was where Slave I was last spotted. Make sure that the rumors penetrate all sectors controlled by the Rebel Alliance. The sooner they're convinced that Slave I is devalued merchandise, the more likely they'll be ready to listen to the preemptory purchase agreement. We've already got some listening-post agents planted in Mos Eisley, don't we?"

The security head gave a quick, affirming nod." We just rotated a fresh crew into the spaceport."

"Fine," said Kuat." They can start spreading the word. Have the covert operations department in our public relations wing come up with some negative-impact details about Slave 7's onboard security systems; perhaps some story about one of the Rebel Alliance investigating teams getting blown away as soon as they opened the main hatch. That way, when and if the Rebel Alliance indicates that the ship is going to be put up for sale, most sentient creatures' suspicions about it will be confirmed, whether they're true or not."

"By the time the rumor campaign is finished, Technician, the Alliance will be ready to give the ship to the first person that comes along."

"I'm not concerned about the nature of the bargain." Beyond the overarching curve of the segmented viewscreens, the last of the preparations for launching were nearly complete. Kuat could see the final checkout and clearance team departing from the battle cruiser, still shrouded beneath its net lines and pressurized construction canopies." The only thing that's important in this regard is that we acquire Slave I-and its contents-as discreetly as possible. When our subsidiary corporation has gained title to the ship, it is to be brought here to Kuat Drive Yards in a shielded cargo transport, and no one outside of the KDY security operations is to know about it."

"That may be difficult to pull off, Technician." Fenald inhaled through clenched teeth." The Imperial Navy has stepped up contraband-interception patrols in most of the navigable sectors between here and Tatooine. They've even been going over our regular supply shipments with a fine-tooth comb. Getting an entire transport past them, with its contents concealed, will take some doing."

The security head's statement didn't come as a surprise to Kuat of Kuat. He was already aware of slowdowns in the construction docks, due to the Imperial Navy's interference with the on-time delivery of necessary materials. Kuat Drive Yards had had to push back the delivery date on a number of the Empire's own orders. Since it was the fault of Palpatine's overzealous admirals, Kuat had been able to avoid any penalty rebates-for the time being, at least. But there had been no change in the ongoing situation, which indicated that the time-wasting searches must, at some level, have the Emperor's approval. Another psychological ploy: the Emperor was fully aware that Kuat Drive Yards wasn't doing any business with the Rebel Alliance, but ordering the searches to continue would indicate to Palpatine's underlings, and anyone outside the court on Coruscant, that the corporation was under suspicion.

Hard to tell what Emperor Palpatine was trying to achieve with a ploy like that, especially at a cost to himself of delaying these much-needed additions to his navy. With every time unit that passed, the Rebel Alliance was increasing in numbers and strength. Was tarnishing Kuat Drive Yards' reputation, and impugning its loyalty to the Empire, worth such a disadvantage? Kuat answered his own question: It is, if Palpatine wishes to destroy-or take over-the corporation. That was entirely consistent with the Emperor's lust for power and control. It wasn't enough to be a faithful ally to a madman like that; perhaps the time had finally arrived in the Emperor's carefully calculated plans, when he'd find it satisfying to consume those closest to him. The Emperor didn't want allies; he wanted slaves.

Perhaps I should go over to the Rebel Alliance. And take Kuat Drive Yards with him; the thought-and the temptation-had struck Kuat before. Was there any other option? Even if Kuat Drive Yards remained as the Empire's chief military contractor and was instrumental in achieving Palpatine's ambitions, what reward would there be for such service?

The same as there would very likely be for all of the Emperor's stormtroopers and admirals: annihilation, absorption, reduction into a will-less instrument of Palpatine's ego. Death, without the consolation of non-existence; life, where every atom of one's being was part of the prison into which the universe had been transformed.

Only one thing prevented Kuat of Kuat from following through on that notion, of taking Kuat Drive Yards over to the Empire's sworn enemies. What stopped him was the suspicion that that was exactly what Emperor Palpatine wanted him to do. All of the Emperor's actions regarding the corporation might be designed to push Kuat into the Rebel Alliance's arms. There were still forces in Palpatine's court that sought the destruction of Kuat Drive Yards as an independent entity. While Prince Xizor had been alive, he had whispered lies into the ear of the Emperor; perhaps Palpatine had finally been convinced by them. If Kuat made any move at all toward the Rebel Alliance, that could be justification enough for the Emperor to launch a full-scale assault against Kuat, placing the corporation's vast technical resources and construction docks under direct military control. There wouldn't be a Kuat Drive Yards after that; generations of engineering skill, the blood in Kuat's veins, would finally have come to an end, hissing into red steam under a storm-trooper's white-hot bolt of blaster fire.

"You might be correct about that. . ."

"Technician?"

"About bringing Slave I here to Kuat Drive Yards, once our subsidiary has acquired it from the Alliance." Kuat's deep musing about the dangers involved in his dealings with the Empire had connected with more immediate concerns. As delicate and ringed with hazard as the situation was, it might be a fatal mistake to be caught with such concrete evidence of being in touch with the Rebels; the enemies of Kuat Drive Yards would be sure to put the worst possible spin on it." Perhaps it would be better if we secured some remote locale to which Slave I could be taken, and an inspection team could go there and examine the ship. We'd have to make sure, though, that they couldn't be identified as Kuat Drive Yards employees."

The security head nodded." That could be arranged, Technician."

"See to it." Kuat stroked beneath the felinx's chin, perceiving in his fingertips the animal's contented murmur." That will be all for now."

In the executive offices of Kuat Drive Yards, there was no need for the elaborate and obsequious rituals found at Palpatine's court. Fenald turned and strode away, bootsteps echoing on the matte-surfaced metal flooring.

Kuat remained gazing out the segmented view-screens. Voicing his thoughts had helped sort them out, like examining a set of blueprints scrolling across a high-resolution CAD screen. Kuat Drive Yards' head of security was an unimaginative but thorough personality-Kuat had chosen and promoted him for precisely those reasons, plus an unflagging loyalty to the corporation that had nurtured him. There had been no need to remind Fenald of the importance of acquiring Boba Fett's ship-reacquiring it, actually, since the ship had been built here at KDY. Not because of any intrinsic value to the ship, but because of what it might still contain. It didn't matter whether Boba Fett was alive or not-and Kuat had the same gut feeling he'd experienced after the bombing raid on Tatooine's Dune Sea that Fett had eluded every force

that would have brought about a lesser creature's destruction. Even if the unlikeliest event had occurred, and Boba Fett really was dead, there were very likely traces aboard Slave I, evidence of some of the deeper and more dangerous conspiracies with which the bounty hunter had become involved. Evidence that led back to Kuat Drive Yards; that was the real danger that had to be averted at all costs.

If Fett destroyed the cargo droid, brooded Kuat. Or got rid of it somehow. . . then we might be safe. For all his cunning, Boba Fett had almost certainly been aware of the value of the material that had fallen into his hands; he might have disposed of it before leaving Slave I in orbit above Tatooine. But if the big, awkward droid still existed, with its boxlike innards full of spy equipment and incriminating data waiting to be deciphered and analyzed-then a whole new level of trouble would begin for Kuat Drive Yards. All because of a holo-video of an Imperial stormtrooper raid on an isolated moisture farm on Tatooine, and the pheromone scent of the galaxy's most powerful criminal, the leader of the Black Sun organization. . .

Into Kuat's meditations came the image of Prince Xizor's face, with its violet eyes and cold, sneering smile. Even more than Emperor Palpatine, that had been the enemy all of Kuat Drive Yards had to fear. Xizor's death had not eliminated the dangers the corporation had to confront.

A signal flare, a quick streak of white light soaring up from the construction docks, cut short Kuat's musing.

He briefly took one hand away from the felinx and touched a miniaturized keypad on his opposite wrist. The circuitry controlling the viewscreens' time-aperture filtering went into activated status, synchronizing with

the close-range signal from the micro-shutters implanted in his corneas. For a split second, the view-screens flickered opaque, then became transparent again as the two optical systems locked in tight with each other.

No sound would travel through the vacuum between the docks and the arching viewscreens of Kuat's offices. But the glare of fiery light, if left unblocked, would be enough to startle the sleeping felinx awake. The creature was easily frightened; Kuat had no wish to have it clawing its panicky way out of his arms. There was still a white, threadlike scar under his own chin, from the last time that had happened.

The final signal flare, red this time, coursed across the field of stars above Kuat Drive Yards. That meant all KDY personnel had been cleared from the dock where the completed Imperial battle cruiser lay waiting, still shrouded in service lines and access canopies.

There was no need for a signal from him; everything happened automatically from this point. A simple imbedded fuse catalyzed the pyrogenic compounds interlaced in the shrouding material; the oxygen still captured inside the canopies' folds was sufficient for the christening of fire, the purging of everything that wasn't hardened durasteel.

In seconds, the battle cruiser had been wrapped in flames, churning in upon themselves, absent the rising convection effects that would have been caused by a surrounding atmosphere. The surrounding canopies had already blackened and been torn into great, ragged-edged sheets of ash, dissolving into nothingness as the last fiery glow dissipated. From the construction dock, the battle cruiser rose slightly, a perfect weapon, cleansed and tempered.

A few bits of ash, compelled outward by the force of the vanished flame, drifted against the thick glass of the segmented viewscreens. Kuat of Kuat stood with the still-sleeping felinx cradled in his arms, the afterimage of fire shifting its spectrum behind the filters of his eyes.