[Legacy Of The Force] - 04(29)
It was important to dull the pain. If she hurt too much, she’d perspire, and her makeup would be undone.
Dressed, she looked at herself in the mirror again, ensuring that the makeup had endured. “The decorator is through with my Battle Dragon,” she said. A mnemonic, the phrase allowed her to recapture the Hapan accent quickly. “The decorator is through with my Battle Dragon.”
Ready and confident, she gave herself a nod and then marched into the next room.
It was a hemispherical holocomm chamber. The central area, essentially a studio-quality stage, was surrounded by a ring of holocams that together would sample a three-dimensional image. Carefully programmed and adjusted for depth of field, they would only record images from that central area; they could not read objects farther away. That meant there was a safe zone around the central area, a ring where observers could stand and not be captured by the holocams. The walls were covered to a height of three me tern by the broadcasting equipment, which transmitted via hyperspace, allowing instantaneous communications with targets half a galaxy away.
Lumiya’s servant-droids had set up the central area with a chair that plausibly looked like a marble throne-Lumiya knew it to be foamplas covered in a beautiful mottled green-and-white veneer-and a matching side table. Ors the table was a bowl of peeled oversized grapes.
She sat carefully on the throne and sampled one of the grapes. It was gummy, nasty-not a true grape at all, but. candy-like material produced by an ancient food fabricator that had been new when this station was built. She smiled as though the grape were the best she’d ever tasted, and the pang of pain from her stomach wound would only add to an observer’s impression that it was delightful.
The chrono above the main comm board counted down the last few seconds remaining to her. As it neared zero, she said, “Contact three three nine.”
Lights above the holocams flared up, bathing her it brightness, and the holocomm unit activated with a surge of noise resembling the engine start-up sound of a well tuned high-performance speeder.
The disembodied voice of the system computer, male and pleasant, said “Contact.” A moment later it added, “The target system is acknowledging. They are receiving.” The computer’s voice would be electronically scrubbed from the audio signal being sent.
No return hologram appeared before Lumiya. The target was receiving but not yet responding. Lumiya ignored the fact, presenting an appearance of unconcern while devoring herself to the bowl of repulsive grapes.
After nearly thirty seconds, a hologram materialized before her-the image of a Bothan male, his fur mostly black with patches of tan, including one patch surrounding his eyes that gave him the appearance of a mask wearer being broadcast in negative. He wore informal attire: gray pants and a matching loose tunic that bared much of the fur of his chest and neck. “Who are you, and how did you get this frequency and access code?”
Lumiya finished her grape before turning her attention to the hologram. “I am a humble daughter of a noble house, and I obtained these things by paying a fortune to the correct people. And you are Tathak K’roylan, deputy intelligence leader for the esteemed world of Bothawui.”
Esteemed was perhaps too strong a word, but it was true that there was a certain amount of respect between the Hapans and Bothans. They did not have much contact, but each recognized in the other a mastery of political maneuvering, manipulation, and conspiracy.
K’roylan didn’t bother to insist on her name. She hadn’t offered it when asked; she wouldn’t volunteer it. “So,” he said, “you have my attention. Briefly.”
Lumiya smiled. “I will say things. You do not have to confirm or deny them. Then I will give you my frequency and access code. After this message ends, I suspect you will speak with your superiors and then, eventually, initiate a return communication.”
“Go ahead.” K’roylan was professionally civil. Even if he was outraged by this intrusion into his personal time and by the fact that his security had been at least partially compromised, it wasn’t smart to insult someone who could reach him this way … and it always helped to have very wealthy contacts.
“The Bothans are preparing three fleets for an assault on Galactic Alliance forces,” Lumiya said. “A just response to what you have suffered at their hands, including a series of assassinations of key Bothan personnel on Coruscant. But your planners are impeded because it will be impossible to launch the fleets from the Bothawui system and other origin points without being detected, and probably shadowed, by Galactic Alliance forces. This eliminates your ability to perform surprise attacks.”