[Hand Of Thrawn] - 01(30)

“But how?” Fey’lya asked. “The Bothans have searched long and hard for a list of those responsible, both in the official clan libraries on Bothawui as well as on all our colony worlds and enclaves. It simply doesn’t exist.”

“It existed here,” Leia pointed out, puffing the datacard from the datapad. “I’m convinced it did. We can see if the techs can reconstruct it; if they can’t, we’ll just have to locate another copy somewhere. At least now we know what to look for.”

“We can try,” Fey’lya said doubtfully. “But in the meantime, what do you plan to do?”

Leia fingered the datacard. “I can’t just forget the whole thing, Councilor Fey’lya-you have to understand that I have to at least take it to the rest of the High Council. But I’ll do what I can to persuade President Gavrisom that it shouldn’t be made public. At least not until the techs have had time to see what they can do with the ruined sections.”

“I see,” Fey’lya said, his fur and emotions both rippling. “Whether the techs will keep silent is of course another question. More important, what about the smuggler Talon Karrde? You said he also knows.”

“He’s given his promise that he won’t say anything,” Leia told him. And he has a message out to the rest of his people to watch for the Devaronian who found the datacard. Maybe they can catch up with him before he tells anyone else.”

Fey’lya sniffed. “You really, think he hasn’t already told others? After the way you and Karrde treated him?”

“We did what we deemed necessary at the time,” Leia said, sternly ordering down her sudden flash of annoyance with the Bothan. “Would you rather he had left Wayland with the datacard?”

“To be blunt: yes,” Fey’lya said stiffly. “Clearly, we were his intended recipients. He would have demanded a tremendous sum of money from us, and we would have paid him, and it would have been over.”

Leia sighed. “It wouldn’t have been over, Councilor. It won’t be over until the whole truth is known and those responsible punished.”

“That is indeed all that is left to us now,” Fey’lya said, standing up. “Thank you for your courtesy in giving me this private briefing, Councilor Organa Solo. I will go now to prepare my defense.”

“You’re not on trial here, Councilor,” Leia reminded him.

Fey’lya’s fur flattened. “I will be,” he said softly. “As will the entire Bothan race. You will see.”

***

The Dona Laza tapcafe was about as crowded as Shada Dukal had ever seen it, packed almost literally wall-to-wall with beings of a dozen different species and every social class from lower-middle on down. “Popular place tonight,” she commented to her boss, sitting close beside her at the table.

“It’s their turn at the floating Boga Minawk tournament,” Mazzic explained, idly stroking the back of Shada’s hand, “You wouldn’t believe how crazy they go for the game around here.”

“You suppose that’s why he chose this place?” Shada asked, “Because of the crowd?”

“Don’t worry, Cromf will bring him in okay,” Mazzic soothed her. “Pass him enough money and he becomes positively reliable. Especially when the second half of the payment doesn’t come until delivery.”

Shada looked at the beings pressing around their table. “I’m more concerned about whether we’ll be able to pull him out of here quietly with this many people watching.”

“There’s no rush on that,” Mazzic said. “Considering all the trouble we’ve gone to, we ought to at least hear this deep dark secret be wants to tell us. After that, we can see about putting the restraints on him.”

Shada looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Karrde won’t be happy about that,” she warned. “He was very specific about Lak Jit not talking to anyone.”

“We’re not on Talon Karrde’s paylist,” Mazzic reminded her tartly. “What with Cromf’s finder’s fee, we’re not going to break even on this as it is. If this little secret has any market value, we deserve to get a cut of it.”

Shada turned away from him, a wave of blackness flowing over her already dark mood. That was always what it came down to in the world of smuggling: profit, and more profit, and doing whatever scheming and back-blading it took to get as much of it as possible. Concepts like loyalty and honor&mdash

“Oh, come on, Shada,” Mazzic chided, stroking her hand again. “These bursts of personal guilt have got to stop. This is how the game is played. You know that.”