“They’re bringing it in now,” said Fenald.
“Excellent.” Outside, in vacuum, an
ion
engine streaked fiery red, moving past the seemingly chaotic maze of construction platforms and grav-dock bays at a navigable sublight speed. The small utility shuttle, with its precious cargo aboard, was heading for the core of KDY’s industrial complex. Perhaps a quarter of a standard time part before the shuttle arrived; Kuat of Kuat glanced over his shoulder at the other man. “You don’t need to wait.” He smiled. “I’ll take care of it myself.”
Security chiefs were paid to be curious about ev erything that happened within their sphere of operations. “As you please, Technician.” The words were spoken with a stiffened spine and a nod just bordering on curtness. He was also paid to obey orders. “Let me know if there’s anything else you require, in regard to this matter.”
The felinx protested as Kuat of Kuat bent down, depositing it on the intricately tessellated floor. Tail demandingly erect, the creature rubbed itself against a trouser leg cut of the same utilitarian dark green as all the other work uniforms worn by KDY employees. The concerns
of
the
most
powerful
beings
in
the galaxy-perhaps
the
most
powerful
beyond
Emperor Palpatine’s inner circle-didn’t matter to the animal. A heat source and continued stroking were the limits of its desires.
As Kuat of Kuat straightened back up, the office suite’s doors slid shut behind the departing chief of security. The felinx bumped its head more insistently against his shin. “Not now,” Kuat told it. “I’ve got work to do.”
Persistence was a trait he admired; he couldn’t be angry at the animal when it jumped up on his workbench. He let it march back and forth, level with his chest, as he assembled the necessary tools. Only when the pilot of the shuttle team, whose flight he had spotted from the viewport, entered and placed an elongated silver ovoid on the bench, then withdrew from his presence, did Kuat of Kuat shoo the animal away.
A pair of hovering worklights drew closer, erasing all
shadow, as he leaned over the mirror-finished torpedo. This messenger pod was not just wired with, but actually built of, self-destruct modules, to prevent unauthorized access-or access by anyone except Kuat of Kuat himself. And even that was intended to be difficult; if he erred now, KDY would have a new hereditary owner and chief designer.
Held between thumb and forefinger, an identity probe bit almost painlessly into his flesh, drawing samples of fluid and tissue. The microcircuitry inside the slender needlelike device ran through its programming, matching both genetic information and the automutating radioactive tracers that had been injected into his bloodstream. The probe
gave
no sign, audible or visible,
whether everything checked out. The only indication would be when he held the inoxide tip to the messenger pod; if his charred remains weren’t embedded in the wall behind him, then all was as it should be.
The probe tip clicked against the curved, reflective surface. No explosion resulted, except for the slight one of his held breath being released.
A hairline fissure opened along the side of the pod. The work went faster now as Kuat of Kuat pried open the silvery ovoid, dismantling the pieces of its shell in a precise order. A misstep, a segment taken out of turn, would also result in a fatal explosion, but he wasn’t concerned about that happening. The only place where the proper sequence had been put down was in his memory, but no more accurate record could be imagined. When he admired machines, he admired himself.
The
one
on the workbench functioned
just
as perfectly: the last of the encasing shell separated into its component parts and fell away from the core. “You’ve come
a long way, little one.” He laid a tender, possessive hand on the holoprojector unit that had been revealed, “Just what do you have to tell me?”
A fading heat radiated into Kuat of Kuat’s palm. The messenger pod’s energy cell was an accelerated-decay module, producing enough power for a onetime jump in and out of hyperspace. The navigational coordinates were hardwired; a matter of a few days ago it’d left the distant world of Tatooine. It could have reached the Kuat Drive Yards headquarters even sooner if a randomizing sublight
process hadn’t been programmed, to
evade detection. Kuat of Kuat’s own security men weren’t the only ones watching the perimeter. A matter of business: paranoia was one of the operating costs that came with being of service to the Emperor.
Hands sheathed in insulated gloves, Kuat of Kuat lifted out the holoprojector. A standard playback unit, similar to ones found throughout the galaxy, but with tweaks