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[Bounty Hunter Wars] - 03(67)

By:Hard Merchandise


“No,” said Kodir softly. She dropped the vibroblade onto the table, next to where Fenald had collapsed facedown in a widening pool of his own blood. “It’s instead.”

Drawing the cloak’s hood forward, Kodir turned and looked back across the watering hole’s dim space. None of its clientele appeared to have noticed that anything at all had happened. She slid a few coins onto the table’s corner, then got up and walked unhurriedly toward the steps leading back up to the surface level.

A woman talked to a gambler.

A different woman, and far from the planet of Kuat. But she too had wrapped herself in a hooded cloak to prevent anyone from prying into her affairs.

“Business is still a little slow for me right now,” said the gambler. His name was Drawmas Sma’Da, and he sat at a table in a glittering, brightly lit pleasure den. The laughter of the galaxy’s rich and foolish denizens sounded from all sides of the establishment. “You have to understand, I’m not yet at the level where I used to be-I had a little, um, embarrassment a few weeks ago. I had to spend most of my operating capital getting out of that mess; you know, the usual bribes and payoffs and stuff. Believe me, Palpatine’s not the only greedy creature inside the Empire.” Lacing his hands together across his expansive belly, he leaned back in his chair. “So I can’t cover any big bets at the moment. None of that Alliance versus the Empire stuff.”

“That’s fine.” The woman kept her voice low. “I want to place a different kind of wager. On a bounty hunter.”

“Bounty hunters, huh?” Sma’Da’s face darkened into a scowl. “I’ll give you a good bet on a couple of ‘em. You can bet that if I ever get my hands on a pair named Zuckuss and 4-LOM, they’re both dead meat. They’re the ones who dragged me out of here, not too long ago

She shook her head. “I’m not interested in them.”

“All right.” Sma’Da gave her a jowly, cajoling smile. “Who do you want to bet on?”

The woman told the gambler.

“You got to be joking.” He looked at her in amazement. “Him?”

“Will you cover the bet?”

“Oh, I’ll cover it all right.” Sma’Da’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Hey, that’s my business. And I’ll give you great odds, too. Because frankly-he’s not going to make it. I know just what kind of trouble he’s in. It doesn’t get any worse.”

The woman’s gaze turned cold. “All the better for you, then.”

When the wager was recorded and the stakes transferred to a holding account at one of the galaxy’s banking worlds, Sma’Da offered to buy her a drink. “You should get something for your money,” he said. “I hate to take credits from a pretty female, and not give them something in return.”

“There is something you can do for me.” The woman rose from the table.

Sma’Da looked at her. “What’s that?”

“Just be ready to pay up when the time comes.” She turned and strode toward the establishment’s ornately framed exit, the edge of the cloak trailing across the gold-specked floor.

Near the planet Kuat, other conversations were taking place.

“Believe me,” said the leader of the Scavenger Squadron, “I don’t like being here, either. I’d rather be out near Sullust right now, getting ready for the real battle.”

Kuat of Kuat turned from his lab bench and looked over his shoulder at the figure standing, flight helmet in the crook of one arm, in the middle of Kuat’s own private quarters. To one side of the space, a high, arching bank of transparisteel panes revealed stars and the immense, intricate shapes of Kuat Drive Yards’ construction docks. Against Kuat’s ankles, the felinx rubbed its silk-furred flank; glancing down at it for a moment, Kuat saw the creature turn a hostile, slit-pupiled glare at the intruder.

“Then you should feel free to leave,” Kuat of Kuat said mildly. “The presence of your squadron here is entirely unnecessary.”

“The Rebel Alliance feels otherwise.” An impressive scar ran in an almost perfect diagonal across Commander Gennad Rozhdenst’s face, the result of surviving a previous skirmish with Imperial fighters. “And I have my orders, directly from former Senator Mon Mothma, with the Alliance fleet near Sullust.”

“So I understand.” Kuat had bent down and picked up the felinx; the animal now lay cradled in the safety of his arms. Its yellow eyes closed in contentment as he scratched behind its ears. “But you must also bear in mind, Commander, that I have my duties to perform as well.”