Mercy Kill: Star Wars (X-Wing) by Aaron Allston

Author:Aaron Allston
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780345534804
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 2013-06-25T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

SAGEOVAL’S DECOM MISSION TRANSPORT YARDS, KURATOOINE

Turman’s handsome-husband face wore an expression of mild curiosity. “What do you think? Buy them or steal them?”

He, Voort, Myri, Trey, and Thaymes stood on one landing field of the broad, mostly outdoor business just north of Kuat City, not far from their quarry. This particular lot was thick with decommissioned military vehicles. Some were early-production-run vehicles that had failed to impress the soldiers testing them—proof-of-concept repulsortanks, armored personnel carriers with side armor panels that now looked like they’d been chewed to pieces by insects, airspeeders with slots in the beds for modular systems that never made the grade.

And there were starfighters from the orbital base. Some were old and so worn that their lift wings drooped. Others, though, belonged to designs that were simply being phased out over time, such as the four classic Incom T-65 X-wings the Wraiths stood beside.

Voort looked at Trey, who had his head in an open panel on the side of the fuselage. “Muscle Boy. You’re sure about these two?”

“Huh?” Trey withdrew his head to look at Voort. “Oh. Yes.” He pulled the panel shut. “They need lots of work but are in good shape. Lasers and deflectors functional. Proton torpedo tubes removed, of course, since civilians can’t own proton torpedoes. Yes, I can get these two combat-ready in short order. The others, too … but I’d need six months and a beautiful Twi’lek assistant to fix them.”

Voort thought it over. “I’d like to steal them …”

Myri brightened.

“But that would be one caper too many, I think. Our resources are stretched thin as it is. And this would be something the local authorities would look into. We can’t afford to drop too many flags.” Voort put additional meaning into those words. The others nodded.

A few meters away, the salesman who had conducted them here brightened at the Wraiths’ suddenly affirmative body language. He was a rotund Besalisk dressed in an expensive suit and a ruffled silk bib, and his upper left arm and lower right arm old-fashioned mechanical prosthetics. Now he turned a smile that was both friendly and excessively confident on the Wraiths.

Voort clapped Turman’s back. “Go get him.”

“And what do I use for credits?”

“The Concussor shuttle.”

Myri offered an obviously fake pout. “Aww. My honeymoon shuttle?”

Voort shrugged. “In exchange for two X-wings.”

Myri clapped her ersatz husband on the back. “Go get him.”

Turman walked off to begin the struggle with his new opponent.

Voort turned his attention to Thaymes. “All right, you. You’ve been grinning like one of Lab Boy’s masquers since we left the ops center. Out with it.”

Thaymes gave the others a conspiratorial look. “Admire me, praise me. I’ve just confirmed that Kuratooine is Thaal’s intended getaway home. And I know his new identity. Thadley Biolan.”

Voort frowned; not that anyone but Myri could really interpret the expression. “Haven’t I heard that name since we’ve been here?”

Thaymes nodded. “One of about a thousand entrepreneurs who show up in business reports and investor profiles. He leases cargo vessel berths on Ruby Habitat up in orbit.

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