[Adventure Journal](3)

“A former admirer,” the armored figure corrected, his voice dark and muffled. “The name is Jodo Kast. And I’m better than Fett.”

“Not that that means much,” Niriz said, his lip twisting.

“I’ve always found that a competent stormtrooper could handle any three bounty hunters without working up a sweat.”

“Don’t push it, Niriz,” Kast warned. “Right now you need me more than I need this job.”

“I need you less than you might think,” Niriz retorted.

“Certainly less than you need an Imperial pardon for that mess you left on Borkyne-” “Gentlemen, please,” Trell jumped in hastily. “I’m a businessman, with a schedule to keep. Whatever your differences, I’m sure you can lay them aside until this job is finished.”

Niriz was still glowering, but he gave a reluctant nod.

“You’re right, Merchant. Fine. You and your crew can rest in the ready room over there until the cargo’s been transferred.

As for you’re” He leveled a finger at Kast. “I’d like to see you in the bay control office. There are a few things I want to make sure you understand.”

Kast nodded gravely. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Niriz stepped into the bay control office, the armored figure striding in right behind him. The door slid closed; and at long last Niriz could let the unnatural stiffness drain out of his posture. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at this, sir,” he apologized. “I hope I did all right.”

“You did just fine, Captain,” the other assured him, reaching up to twist his helmet free and pull it off. “Between this armor and your performance all four of them are completely convinced that I’m Jodo Kast.”

“I hope so, sir,” Niriz said, his stomach tight with concern as he gazed at those glowing red eyes. “Admiral…

I have to say one last time that I don’t think you should do this.

At least not personally.”

“Your concern is noted,” Grand Admiral Thrawn said, running a gauntleted hand through his blue-black hair.

“And appreciated, as well. But this is something I can’t delegate to anyone else.”

Niriz shook his head. “I wish I could say I understood.”

“You will,” Thrawn promised. “Assuming this plays out as anticipated, you’ll have the entire story when I return.”

Niriz smiled, thinking about all the campaigns he and the Grand Admiral had been through together out in the Unknown Regions. “When hasn’t something you planned gone as anticipated?” he asked dryly.

Thrawn smiled faintly in return. “Any number of times, Captain,” he said. “Fortunately, I’ve usually been able to improvise an alternate approach.”

“That you have, sir.” Niriz sighed. “I still wish you’d reconsider.

We could put one of my stormtroopers in the Mandalorian armor, and you could direct him by comlink from somewhere nearby.”

Thrawn shook his head. “Too slow and awkward. Besides, Thyne’s fortress will certainly have a full-spectrum surveillance set up.

They’d pick up any such transmission and either tap in or jam it.”

Niriz took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”

Thrawn smiled again. “Don’t worry, Captain, I’ll be fine. Don’t forget, there’s an Imperial garrison nearby. If necessary, I can always call on them for help.”

He slid the helmet back over his head and fastened it in place.

“I’d better go supervise the cargo transfer-we wouldn’t want Merchant Trell’s precious sausages to be damaged. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Yes, sir,” Niriz said. “Good luck, Admiral.”

It was called Treasure Ship Row, and it was billed as the most exotic and eclectic trading bazaar anywhere in the Empire. Dozens of booths and shops of every size and description ran its length, with hundreds more nestled up against its edges, weaving in and out of Coronet City proper. Humans and aliens sat at open-air counters or stood beside doorways, hawking their wares to the thousands of beings jostling their way through the narrow streets.

A vibrant, exciting place; but for Trell, a bit intimidating as well.

The merchant part of him was intrigued by the range of merchandise available, as well as by the variety of potential customers an enterprising dealer could sell those goods to. But at the same time the part of him that had driven him into the isolation of space in the first place felt distinctly ill at ease in the middle of such crowds.

Maranne, walking beside him, didn’t seem to feel any such discomfort.

Neither did the two Rebel agents, striding along behind him. As for Kast, in the lead, he doubted any of them could tell what he was feeling. Or cared, for that matter.