13

NOW

He couldn’t stop thinking about the bounty hunter.

Kuat of Kuat knew that he was wasting time; the past was the past, and couldn’t be altered. There are messes that must be cleaned up, he told himself as he gazed out at the Kuat Drive Yards construction docks. That cleaning-up process had to happen now, in real time; the longer it was delayed, the more grievous the consequences would be. Everything that he had worked to achieve, that the Kuat bloodline had built this corporation into, might yet be wiped away by the forces that conspired against him.

He knew all these things, they weighed upon his spirit with the grinding mass of planets, yet he still found his thought returning, as though pulled by some even greater gravitational force, to the bounty hunter Boba Fett, and all that had happened in the past.

Fett was the key to it all. The key to what had happened then, and what must happen now if Kuat Drive Yards was to be saved.

There were things that all the galaxy knew about that past, the story that had grown to almost legendary proportions, about the breakup of the old Bounty Hunters Guild and the things that had come about after that. The capture of the renegade Imperial stormtrooper Trhin Voss’on’t, and what had happened when Boba Fett had gone to collect the bounty for him …

Those matters were public knowledge. Or at least some of them were.

And other ones were secrets, locked inside the skull of Kuat of Kuat. He had to make sure they remained secret.

If doing so demanded the death of other creatures—specifically, Boba Fett—then that was a regrettable necessity. Business was business.

He would agree with me about that, thought Kuat as his gaze lifted to the cold stars above the docks. Boba Fett would hardly be able to blame him for taking care of business in as efficient—and deadly—a manner as was needed.

Kuat turned away from the high, segmented viewscreens. It irked him that there was so much that had to be dealt with, as soon as possible, and yet he still had to bother with distractions such as a summons to a convocation of the planet Kuat’s ruling households. With a burden-laden sigh, he lifted the heavy robes from the carved stand upon which they hung between such events.

So simple a matter, and he was transformed.

All it took was for Kuat of Kuat to don the formal robes, the garb that signified his position at the head of the noble families of this world. He so rarely left the headquarters of the Kuat Drive Yards and his austere suite of offices looking out over the construction docks that his simple coveralls had become his unconscious preference. The same as that which the corporation’s engineering and security staff wore, with no signs of rank attached to them; if those beneath him obeyed his orders, it was because they knew he had earned authority through more than just genetic inheritance.

Even the felinx, the silky-haired creature that he cradled in his arms, had trouble recognizing him in the robes, with their sweep of intricate, golden-threaded embroidery falling from his shoulders. Kuat of Kuat, the master of one of the most powerful corporations in the galaxy, had had to kneel beside his lab bench and coax the animal out with soothing, enticing words. Poor thing, thought Kuat as he stroked the special place behind its ears; a purr of induced bliss sounded from deep in its throat. As with all the members of its decorative, pampered species, the felinx believed itself to be the master of this domain; it took interruptions to its expected schedule with an ill grace.

As do I. Kuat of Kuat had carried the animal to the office suite’s arching, segmented viewscreens; he gazed out at the ships being built or readied for launch, massive commissions for the Imperial Navy of Palpatine. Enough weaponry studded the hulls to intimidate all but the most foolhardy of foes; the laser cannons being mounted into the open skeletal frames required bracing and recoil-dissipation casings that would have withstood explosions measured in the giga-tonnage range. Anything less, and a single shot fired in battle would rip a destroyer or battle cruiser in two, a victim of its own lethal strength. The contemplation of such an event brought a wry grimace of self-recognition to Kuat’s face.

“We must always be careful,” he whispered into the felinx’s feathery ear, “not to blow ourselves up with our own weapons.”

The felinx stirred drowsily in Kuat’s arms. As far as it was concerned, all of its plans had succeeded admirably; it was fed, warm, and content. Kuat wished that he could feel the same about all his schemes and machinations. Even now, forces that he had set into motion were circling about him and the Kuat Drive Yards, like the iron teeth of some invisible trap, greater than the worlds and corporations it seized upon.

He heard the tall doors of the office suite open; without disturbing the felinx, Kuat glanced over his shoulder. “Yes?”

The head of security for Kuat Drive Yards stood in the angle of light from the corridor outside. “Your personal transport is ready.” As with all of the corporation’s staff, Fenald spoke without elaborate formalities. “To take you to the gathering of families.”

“I don’t need to be reminded,” said Kuat, “about where I’m going.” The assembly of the planet Kuat’s ruling households was the reason for his having donned the formal robes. And for his bad temper. “I’m sorry—” The security head was one of his most valued staff, and had done nothing to merit sharp language. “But this is all coming at a very inconvenient time.”

That was an understatement. Even if all Kuat of Kuat had to worry about was the stepped-up pace of construction at Kuat Drive Yards, the constant pressure from Emperor Palpatine to supply the Imperial Navy with the ships needed to crush the burgeoning Rebellion, he would have had more than enough on his mind. But with those other concerns, some of which were secrets that he alone bore the weight of on his shoulders … it was a crushing burden.

Or to be more exact, it would have been a crushing burden for almost any other sentient creature. Kuat of Kuat closed his eyes, his fingertips automatically stroking the felinx’s fur. If he was not as other creatures were, it was because he had been born this way, the hereditary chief executive of Kuat Drive Yards; the blood flowed in his veins of the other engineers and leaders who had preceded him. All that he had done, the schemes that he had devised, had been for the sake of the corporation. There were so many in this galaxy who sought the destruction of Kuat Drive Yards, who wished to disassemble it into bits or swallow it whole. The corporation’s own best customer, Emperor Palpatine himself—and Palpatine’s chief henchman, Lord Vader—were among that number. Kuat Drive Yards had had at least a few friends among the leaders of the old Republic; those had been swept away in the course of Palpatine’s rise to absolute power. Now everything, the very survival of the corporation, depended upon the wits and courage of those who shepherded it.

And now, with all that going on, to have the ruling households getting on his case …

“No apology necessary.” The security head showed a wry smile. “When, if ever, would there have been a convenient time to deal with them?”

“You’re got a point there,” admitted Kuat. The felinx protested as he peeled it away from his chest and deposited it in a fleece-lined basket near the workbench. With its tail huffily erect, the animal jumped from its bed and went stalking for its food dish. Kuat brushed away the silken hairs it had left on the front of his robes. “All right,” he said wearily. “Let’s get this over with.”

Fenald closed the office suite’s door behind them, then followed Kuat toward the docking area. “I’ve gotten as much advance information on the meeting as I could.” Among his other duties, Fenald was in charge of surveillance—or in blunter terms, spying—upon the planet’s ruling households. “From all indications, it appears that the Knylenn Elder will be there. In person.”

“That old fool?” Kuat shook his head as he walked. The Elder had always been his chief opponent in the households’ deliberative council. Of all the families, the Knylenns had fought hardest—and over centuries and generations—against the Inheritance Exemption by which the Kuat line maintained its hold over Kuat Drive Yards. “I’m surprised they managed to pry him out of his life-support systems.”

“The younger members of the family are using the Elder as a front. So they had a new portable life-support system designed and built, just so the Elder could come to an emergency meeting like this.” The security head raised an eyebrow. “A very expensive system, too; it apparently has several redundant layers of first-degree droid intelligence built in, with constant real-time monitoring of all bodily functions. And get this: it even has cryo-storage of all-important organs, with total immune-reaction suppression at the cellular level, ready to go at any sign of cardiopulmonary or renal-hepatitic failure. The Elder could be getting a heart transplant as you were talking to him, and you wouldn’t even know it except for the little blinking lights on the front of the unit.”

“Charming,” said Kuat. “Of course, that presupposes that he started out with one inside him.” He could see the docking area attendants up ahead, standing by the open hatchway of his personal transport. “Who else is going to be there?”

“The usual cabal—all of the Knylenns, their telbuns and their affiliates; the Kuhlvult clan and their morganic allegiances; probably a good deal of the Kadnessi.”

Kuat stopped in the middle of the corridor and looked at his security head. “That’s more than the usual.”

The security head nodded in agreement. “This is the big one, Technician. The Knylenns have been trying to overturn the Inheritance Exemption since before your grandfather ran this corporation. They’ve called in all the favors that any of the other ruling households might owe them—because they think they can do it now.”

“Maybe they can.” Kuat paused beside the transport’s hatchway as the attendants drew back. “Maybe I should let them. Then dealing with the Empire and all the rest would be someone else’s problem.” He pulled the formal robes tighter around himself to facilitate getting into the tight passenger space of the transport. He looked over at Fenald. “What do you think?”

“That would be your decision to make.” Standing with hands clasped behind his back, the other man gave a single nod. “But it would be the end of Kuat Drive Yards as an independent corporation. No one else in the ruling families has the ability—or the courage—to stand up to Palpatine.”

“I sometimes think,” said Kuat, “that courage is simply another name for foolhardiness.” Gathering up the broad and inconvenient hem of the robes, he stepped into the transport. “I’m old and tired—or at least that’s the way I feel, so it might as well be true.” He had to duck his head down to look back at the figure standing outside the hatchway. “Perhaps instead of going and dealing with these tiresome creatures, I should pilot this ship straight to Coruscant. I could make a deal with Palpatine: if I give in now and just let him take over Kuat Drive Yards, I’d save him a lot of trouble. Perhaps in gratitude, he’d pension me off with enough credits to eke out a comfortable existence on some obscure planet.”

“It’s more likely, Technician, that once Emperor Palpatine has what he wants from you, that he would simply have you eliminated.”

Kuat managed a grim half-smile. “I believe you’re right.” He settled into the transport’s two-person passenger area. “So I don’t have any choice then, do I, about going and dealing with the Knylenns and all the rest of the ruling households?”

“No,” replied Fenald. “You don’t.”

“Then,” said Kuat, “my duties and my actions are one and the same.” He turned toward the transport again.

Fenald laid a restraining hand on Kuat’s forearm. “However, Technician, you are not obliged to face this particular duty by yourself.”

Kuat looked back at his head of security. “What do you mean?”

“It’s madness for you to go there alone. The Knylenns and the others are obviously planning some unpleasant surprise for you. You’ll need all the help you can get.”

“Perhaps so. But that doesn’t mean I can have it.”

“I hope you’ll forgive any rashness on my part, Technician. But I took the initiative of contacting the Master of Etiquette for the ruling households.” Fenald gave a slight nod as he withdrew his hand from the sleeve of Kuat’s formal robes. “And he gave a different ruling on that point of protocol. Since the Knylenns are bringing their telbuns to this gathering, the normal restrictions do not apply. Under the ancestral household code, the telbuns are technically outsiders; not quite true family members. So to maintain strict reciprocity, the household of Kuat is thereby permitted to bring in an outsider as well.”

“I see.” Kuat mulled over the information. “And your suggestion is that you should accompany me.”

“More than a suggestion. It is, Technician, my most urgent advice.”

Kuat peered closer at the security head. “Why are you so concerned about coming to this gathering? The ruling households of Kuat are hardly an entertaining crowd.”

“As I said before—they’re up to something.”

“And what is your evidence—your hard evidence—for that suspicion?”

Fenald was silent for a moment before answering. “No evidence,” he said quietly, “other than what I feel in my gut.”

The security head’s reply disturbed Kuat. Fenald had never before been one to act upon anything except facts as cold and hard as the durasteel employed in the Kuat Drive Yards construction docks. But still …

“All right,” said Kuat. He pointed toward the hatchway of the personal transport. “We’d better be on our way. They’ll be waiting for us.”

A few Standard Time Parts later, the pilot of the personal transport was skimming the craft over the densely forested land masses of the planet Kuat. For Kuat of Kuat, looking out at the green organic material was less pleasing than contemplating the hard, cold shapes of laser-welded durasteel in the Kuat Drive Yards construction docks.

One of the junior members of the Kuhlvult clan, barely having achieved adult status, had come out to meet Kuat’s personal transport. “There are those among us,” said Kodir of Kuhlvult, “who will be glad to see you.” Her movements in the formal robes, as she led the way to the ruling households’ gathering hall, were more graceful than Kuat’s could ever have been. “Not everyone is happy with the Knylenns’ agenda for this meeting.”

“Really?” As he walked beside her, Kuat searched the young woman’s face for some clue as to her intent. “And why would that be?”

Kodir’s smile was more sly than friendly. “We know how the Kuat household runs Kuat Drive Yards; your family has kept this world one of the richest in the galaxy for generations. It did so under the old Republic, and it continues to do so under Emperor Palpatine. Such skill deserves its own reward; that was why the Inheritance Exemption was passed by the other households so long ago.” She tilted her head, eyes lowered in respect. “And that is why some of us would wish to keep it that way.”

In silence, Kuat walked on beside the young woman; his head of security trailed a few steps behind. The Exemption, mused Kuat. That’s what it all comes down to. It had, for a long time.

The wise among the ruling households, as Kodir of Kuhlvult had indicated, wished to keep the Inheritance Exemption. The ambitious, such as the Knylenns, wished to eliminate it; the Exemption was what kept them from achieving supremacy among all the ruling households, and from taking control of Kuat Drive Yards, this world’s preeminent source of wealth.

Alone among the planet Kuat’s ruling households, the lineage of the Kuat family was the only one that was passed down from parent to child by direct genetic inheritance; that was the sole intent and effect of the Exemption. For all the other households, a strict disruption in the genetic chain prevailed: the heirs of the ruling households were not the children of the current adult members, but rather of the telbuns that were chosen to perpetuate the line. Unfortunately, such an arrangement had begun to show its faults when telbuns, chosen more for their physical beauty rather than the high intelligence and other favorable genetic factors that would produce the engineering and corporate leadership skills needed to run Kuat Drive Yards, had threatened to take the corporation into bankruptcy through their incompetence. Thus the Inheritance Exemption that effectively kept the Kuat bloodline, with its innate tendencies necessary for the success of the business, in charge. The Inheritance Exemption, as Kuat of Kuat well knew, had the additional benefit of checking the viciously squabbling ambitions of the ruling households, and keeping any of the world’s nobles from conspiring and murdering to place an actual son or daughter at the head of Kuat Drive Yards.

If only, thought Kuat of Kuat, that was the end of the matter. And the end of ambition and conspiracy. It hadn’t been; the Knylenns had long chafed under the limit that had been placed on their household’s ability to rise to the absolute top of their world’s power structure. The Knylenns had been the most aggressive about circumventing the restrictions, by choosing their telbuns from a limited pool of candidates. Rumors abounded in the other households that some of the Knylenn telbuns were in fact the children of the already existing Knylenn adults, born in secret offworld locations and smuggled back to the planet Kuat, infant princes in disguise. Certainly, over the last few generations, the physical resemblance between the Knylenns and their appointed heirs had grown suspiciously close.

Whereas this heir to the Kuhlvult clan, walking next to Kuat of Kuat, had obviously been chosen for her beauty and her lean-muscled, athletic grace—he had to exert himself to keep up with the long strides that billowed her formal robes out behind her. She had obviously come into her inheritance only recently; Kuat remembered having heard, most likely in a report from his security head, that one of the Kuhlvult Elders had recently died and his heir had assumed that preeminent rank in the household. Kuat was grateful that whatever the reason had been for her parent’s initial selection as a telbun—the Kuhlvults had long been notorious for its weakness for attractive faces—the result had been the elevation of someone with enough intelligence to see through the Knylenns’ schemes.

Whether that would be enough—and whether there was a sufficient number like this Kodir of Kuhlvult in the other households—remained to be seen. Kuat strode on toward the meeting place, concealing his own grim apprehensions about what was to come.

Fortunately, none of the Knylenns or their associates made any objection to Kuat of Kuat’s security head attending the gathering of the ruling households. It would have been a bad move strategically, to have started off the gathering with an officious reference to the tradition-bound codes that governed the families’ interactions. Better, thought Kuat, to at least pretend that we’re all friends—for the moment. And let the Knylenns suffer the consequences of the first hostile move.

“Kuat, your presence is appreciated.”

The voice was familiar to him, from the last time he had left the productive sanctuary of Kuat Drive Yards in order to return to the homeworld. He turned and gave a nod of recognition. “I understand,” said Kuat, “that we have much to talk about.”

“True.” The hatchet-sharp face of Khoss of Knylenn showed a thin-lipped, humorless smile. The formal robes hung easily on his frame; they were obviously his preferred garb. “I hope you … enjoy hearing the words of your equals.” He gestured toward the head of security standing just behind Kuat. “I know how tedious it can be, surrounded only by underlings and their too-often flattering but misleading voices.”

A roseate, shadowless glow suffused over the robed figures—more than two score of them, the largest number of ruling household members that Kuat had ever seen gathered together—as the perfect opalescent dome diffused the sunlight outside. In that gentle illumination, even the most withered and cronelike Elders, of either sex, appeared as benign, attractive creatures. The younger ones and the appointed telbuns seemed to be almost godlike in their preening splendor. It had been inevitable that such lying arts, enhancement to the point of deception, would have evolved to such a degree on the planet of Kuat. The revenues from the ship-building industry of Kuat Drive Yards, preeminent supplier of military vessels to the Empire, enabled the ruling households to concentrate on all that they considered most important: the gloss of surfaces, the mechanics of deceit. Kuat of Kuat wondered why any of them would consider overturning the financial arrangements of such a system merely to fuel the Knylenns’ ambitions.

“I don’t,” said Kuat, “surround myself with flatterers. When it comes to engineering, it’s better to hear the truth, no matter how unpleasant. If a ship being built has a stress fault that will cause it to implode at full thruster force, I would rather know before a client such as Emperor Palpatine has a chance to find out.”

“Ah.” Khoss nodded in feigned appreciation. “Very wise. As you value the truth, then I’m sure you’ll find our meeting today to be very rewarding.” He turned away, his formal robes swirling at the heels of his boots. A phalanx of younger Knylenns and their telbuns turned their smug gazes upon Kuat before following after their kinsman.

“You realize, of course, that he hates your guts.” Kodir of Kuhlvult leaned her head close to Kuat’s while keeping an eye on the Knylenns striding away. “I don’t think I’m surprising you with that information.”

“He’s always hated every Kuat family member.” Kuat shrugged. “That’s his own legacy from his predecessors. And it’s why I’m pretty sure that the Knylenns have been circumventing the inheritance restrictions. You can’t learn that kind of hatred; you have to be born with it, right in your genetic material.”

Before Kodir could reply, Kuat’s security head gave him a discreet nudge. “Here comes the Knylenn Elder. The party’s about to start.”

The light filtering into the pearllike dome shifted in color. A flock of wind-orchids, the rootless semivegetative denizens of Kuat’s deepest forests, had drifted across the convex exterior of the dome; their rich hues of violet and azure fell across the forms of the ruling household members like a soft optic rain. The air currents outside lifted the wind-orchids and sent them slowly tumbling away; the warmth of the blurred sunlight reentered the dome.

Kuat of Kuat saw a flurry of activity at the other side of the gently illuminated space. The crowd parted way before something larger than a mere human figure.

“That’s the life-support system I was telling you about,” said Kuat’s security head. “It wasn’t just the functional parts that made it expensive; they had to decorate it.”

A vertically oriented cylinder was surmounted with the grey-bearded visage of the Knylenn Elder; his snow-white hair, braided into two thick ropes, looped over the shoulders of the segmented metal encasing his arms. A trembling palsy shook the vein-gnarled hands left bare, restrained by flexible straps from tripping any of the controls and gauges studding the exterior of the system’s casing. Bright red arterial blood percolated through a network of tubes and oxygenating devices; above the tank treads that moved the portable system forward, patches of condensed moisture indicated the cryo-storage bins, with their valuable soft-tissue contents inside.

The Elder’s age-yellowed gaze scanned the gathering’s faces, the eye muscles twitching in their wrinkled sockets. At last, the Elder fastened upon Kuat of Kuat, standing several meters distant.

“Are you … surprised, Kuat?” The voice emerged from the amplified speaker at the front of the portable life-support system, a few gasping syllables at a time. “That I’ve … lived so … long? ”

Kuat walked forward and stood before the Knylenn Elder, gazing up at the face elevated by the machinery that had consumed the aged body. “Nothing you do surprises me.” He could hear the gurgle and hiss of the life-support system’s various components, the fluids moving constantly between sterilized metal and flesh arrested in its slow decay. “When I was but a child, and you already in the prime of your manhood, you swore before our biological mothers that you would outlive me.” He smiled politely up at the Elder. “You might make it yet.”

The laugh that grated from the speaker sounded like sheets of corrugated durasteel grinding against each other. “With your … help, Kuat. As you … shall see …”

Spittle had flecked the side of the Knylenn Elder’s face, and shone damply in the tangles of the beard draped across the metal collar encasing the wattles of his throat. The younger Khoss of Knylenn mounted a built-in step at the side of the life-support system and reached up with a silken cloth, dabbing away the wetness as tenderly as if the old kinsman were made of crumpled paper. From his perch on the gurgling machinery, Khoss looked down at Kuat of Kuat. A spark of simmering contempt showed in Khoss’s eyes.

Kuat turned away from the Knylenns. A single nod was all the communication that he needed to exchange with Fenald.

“Nobles of this world! My fellow kinsmen!” Khoss had not dismounted from the side of the Knylenn Elder’s life-support system, but instead had climbed onto the flat area just behind the upright cylinder. The slight effort had brought an excited flush to his face; he steadied himself by reaching down and placing both his hands upon the metal-sheathed shoulders of the Elder he stood behind. The Elder’s white braids were draped at the level of Khoss’s knees. “I beg your indulgence—but urgent matters have brought us together at this time!” His voice rang against the glowing limits of the dome. “The very future of the world that we share among us; that future lies in jeopardy!”

The overt theatricality in display offended Kuat of Kuat. He shook his head in distaste, a gesture that was noticed by Kodir standing next to him.

“You’re right,” she said. “They’ve all rehearsed their parts. Just look at them.”

In the gathering place’s opalescent light, the Knylenns and their affiliates had taken up positions on either side of the Knylenn Elder. With their telbuns, they constituted an obvious majority of those present, the weight of the ruling households’ authority manifested by the confident, even smug expressions on their faces. They stood, male and female alike, with their arms folded across the embroidered fronts of their formal robes, their booted feet spread apart as though they had been transformed into warriors.

“That’s handy,” Kuat of Kuat remarked dryly to his head of security. “Now at least we know exactly what we’re up against.”

Kodir of Kuhlvult laid a hand on his shoulder and spoke close to his ear, turning her own back on the massed figures. “The Knylenns have been sending out their emissaries and negotiating teams to the other households for a while now. In fact, ever since Emperor Palpatine dismantled the old Republic. That was when Khoss of Knylenn decided the galaxy’s politics had changed enough for him to make his move.”

“I see.” Her words didn’t surprise Kuat; he’d already had his own Kuat Drive Yards intelligence teams report the Knylenns’ maneuverings to him. The shift in the power structure among the inhabited worlds, the rise of the Empire and Palpatine’s concentration of authority in his own hands, had had inevitable consequences in every council hall and parliament scattered among the stars. At the last gathering of the planet Kuat’s ruling households, Khoss of Knylenn had tried to whip up a rebellion against the Kuat bloodline and their administration of the Kuat Drive Yards business. The accusation had been that Kuat of Kuat had shown a disastrous favoritism toward the Rebel Alliance by keeping Kuat Drive Yards out of any involvement with the construction of the Empire’s new Death Star weapon.

There had been other military contracting firms, on other worlds, that had reaped both the Emperor’s favor and the huge profits that had come with building the Death Star; Kuat of Kuat had been aware that Palpatine himself had commented—with malign suspicion—about the reasons for Kuat Drive Yards not even bidding on the smallest part of the project. Palpatine’s misgivings had been soothed away by the simple expedient of Kuat Drive Yards absorbing an unplanned cost overrun, by Kuat of Kuat’s personal orders, on the design change orders for an operational wing of a half-dozen new Imperial battle cruisers. That had cut deeply into the corporation’s profits for the fiscal quarter, but it had also maintained Kuat Drive Yards’ inside relationship with the Empire.

Only later, when the Death Star had turned out to be something less than invulnerable—after the Battle of Yavin, the Imperial admirals’ ultimate weapon had been little more than smoldering scraps floating in the vacuum of space—had Kuat’s enemies among the ruling households been forced to acknowledge his wisdom. Kuat Drive Yards’ preeminent position among the Empire’s military contractors was even more secure now, with Emperor Palpatine placing greater trust in Kuat of Kuat’s engineering expertise. Whatever plans the Knylenns might have had for taking over the administration of Kuat Drive Yards were put on hold—until now.

Which raised a single question in Kuat of Kuat’s mind. Why now? he wondered as he looked at Khoss of Knylenn, perched on top of the Knylenn Elder’s portable life-support system. What had changed? Some element in the delicate balancing act of power and ambition, either here or somewhere offworld, must have altered slightly, enough for Khoss and the rest of the Knylenn household to believe that they had another chance for realizing their goals. But nothing that had come to Kuat of Kuat through his own intelligence sources had alerted him to any new development. Either the long years of frustrated waiting had driven Khoss of Knylenn insane, or the usurpers and their affiliates had developed contacts and espionage networks that exceeded Kuat’s own. The latter possibility bordered on paranoia, but inevitably so for someone in a position such as that held by Kuat, where sheer information dictated one’s survival. What do they know? His gaze narrowed as he watched Khoss and the rest of the Knylenns. Or worse—what do they know that I don’t?

Those questions were soon to be answered. Khoss of Knylenn gestured with an outflung arm, silencing the murmuring hubbub from the crowd assembled around him. His hand lowered again toward the shoulder of the ancient, withered figure embraced by the life-support system’s machinery. “Let the Elder speak!” Khoss’s shout rang against the glowing limits of the gathering space. “Listen to what he has to say!”

On either side of the life-support system’s segmented treads, the Knylenns and their affiliates turned their respectful faces up toward the Elder.

“This ought to be good,” muttered Kodir of Kuhlvult, standing next to Kuat. The sour expression on her face made her distaste for the proceedings evident.

The eyes in the age-wrinkled face reminded Kuat of Emperor Palpatine’s cold scrutiny. But the Emperor’s eyes were at least animated by the deep, consuming appetite that existed behind them, the hunger for power over all the universe’s sentient beings. By contrast, the Knylenn Elder’s gaze was dulled beneath the accumulated layers of time, as though any remaining spark were clouded by dust and cobwebs.

“Would that I were at rest …” The rheumatic voice crackled from the amplified speaker at the front of the cylinder. One corner of the Knylenn Elder’s mouth pulled downward with each spoken syllable, the palsy showing a few yellowed teeth. “Would that I were at rest forever … in the tomb of those who preceded me, for these many years … than that I should live to see such treachery …”

“Hear him!” Khoss raised both hands from the Knylenn Elder’s shoulders and held them wide above his own head. “This is why we are gathered at this place!”

“Treachery …” The Elder’s voice continued, each word like gravel scraped across metal. “When treason is committed … by those to whom much power has been given … in whom much trust has been placed … is greater treachery possible?”

Another murmur sounded from the Knylenns and their affiliates, rising into quick, angry shouts.

The last of Kuat’s patience had been exhausted. Before either the Knylenn Elder or Khoss standing behind him could speak again, he strode forward. “Don’t waste my time with your cheap theatrics.” Kuat of Kuat stood in front of the life-support system’s massive durasteel prow, looking up at the faces of both the Knylenn Elder and Khoss of Knylenn. “If you’re referring to me, then say so. And if you have charges to make, then state them. Or am I expected to defend myself against nothing more than the hatred you’ve always shown toward my bloodline?”

“Very well—” Khoss of Knylenn glared down at him. “No one here is surprised that you merit accusation; yourself, least of all. The head of the Kuat household should know better than anyone else just what iniquities he is capable of.”

“Iniquities such as fomenting distrust and rebellion toward one who has done no more than serve and enrich this world’s heirs?” Kuat of Kuat shook his head in disgust. “Whatever evils I know of are the ones I’ve observed in you.” He gazed round at the Knylenns and their affiliates, ranked on either side of the hissing machinery. “They’re easy to see when they’re reflected in so many other black hearts. Envy is a mirror that reveals its bearer’s face more than anything else.”

The Knylenns’ murmurs and shouts had been stilled for a moment as Kuat’s words had stung home. But now they broke once again into uproar, with threats and imprecations directed at the target who stood before them, unflinching.

“You speak bravely—” Khoss’s impassioned voice rose above the others. “For one whose deeds have put him in opposition to all the rest of this world’s ruling households.”

“Speak for yourself.” Kodir of Kuhlvult stepped up beside Kuat. “And speak for those you’ve fooled and cajoled onto your side.” One of her hands gestured toward the sagging scowl of the Knylenn Elder. “And for those too senile to realize the folly of the words you’ve placed in their mouths. But you don’t speak for me, or for any of the Kuhlvult household, when you attack one whose bloodline has brought nothing but wealth and honor to the planet of Kuat.”

Kuat looked over at the young female. “This may not be your best move,” he said quietly. “They’ve got the numbers.”

“So?” Kodir gave a shrug with her reply. “What does that matter, if they’re wrong?”

Atop the portable life-support system, Khoss of Knylenn ordered his followers to silence. “You wished for an accusation?” He directed a sneering smile at Kuat. “Your own knowledge of your deeds is not enough? That is as we expected. It’s not likely—or even possible—that one so mired in treachery would voluntarily confess and repent. But that is not necessary for us to have sufficient and convincing evidence of the crimes committed by the bloodline of Kuat, the dagger thrust into the hearts of all the ruling households.” Khoss turned where he stood and gestured toward the back of the gathering place. “Bring it forth.”

That accusations would be made, Kuat of Kuat had fully expected. But the exact nature of whatever supporting evidence might have been fabricated—that was something of which he could still be surprised. He watched as a three-dimensional holoprojector was wheeled by a pair of Knylenn affiliates into the middle of the domed area.

“What’s this?” Kuat pointed to the device. “Do you seek to enlighten or entertain us?”

“I’m sure you’ll find it … amusing.” Khoss reached down and was handed a remote-control keypad by one of the affiliates. “It may not show you at your best, but it captures your likeness well enough.”

With a single press of the controls, the holoprojector was activated. In the cleared space before the machinery of the life-support system, light shimmered and coalesced into perceptible forms. A segment of the past came into view, as though summoned from a realm of ghostlike spirits. But the past shown was one that Kuat of Kuat recognized.

He found himself standing less than a meter away from a reproduced hologram of himself. The image wasn’t dressed in the formal robes that he himself wore now, but in the simple coveralls of all those who labored for Kuat Drive Yards. Enough details of the space surrounding the hologram were visible that Kuat could see it had been recorded in his private working area. The hologram image was bent over some object on the lab bench, intently prying it open with delicate tools.

Even before the object yielded to the holographic Kuat’s probe, the real Kuat could see what it was as he stood in the gathering place of the ruling households and watched his image from the past. The gleaming metal object on the lab bench was a hyperspace messenger unit, which contained in turn another miniaturized holoprojector. The real Kuat watched his past image activate the projector, and another re-created scene appeared, held inside the larger one.

That scene, which the image of Kuat intently regarded, was from inside the palace of the late Jabba the Hutt. With a twist of the probe in the hyperspace messenger unit’s controls, the Kuat image froze the holo scene. The real Kuat continued to watch as his past image responded to the events in the re-creation of Jabba’s throne room.

You’re dead, aren’t you? The holographic image of Kuat spoke to the frozen hologram-within-hologram image of Jabba the Hutt. That’s such a shame. I hate to lose a good customer.

The real Kuat remembered saying those words. Just as he remembered everything else he had done back then, when the hyperspace messenger unit had arrived from the distant planet of Tatooine and he had opened it up to hear the secrets it had brought to him. The holographic re-creation of the scene in front of him, of himself in the past watching another hologram, was like walking around inside his own head, in that space where his memories were kept.

The rest of the scene played out, showing the image of Kuat carefully inspecting the other figures besides Jabba the Hutt that could be seen in the hologram-within-a-hologram. The scene that had been recorded in Jabba’s palace ended with Princess Leia Organa, disguised as an Ubese bounty hunter, facing down the Hutt with an activated thermal detonator. That had been amusing to witness. Before that, though, there had been less pleasant things to watch, such as the grisly death of one of the Hutt’s dancing girls, by being dropped into the rancor pit before the throne. To re-create Jabba the Hutt’s court was to summon from the past a particularly nasty piece of the galaxy.

In the hologram that had contained the other one, the image of Kuat of Kuat extracted the probe tool from the hyperspace messenger unit on the lab bench, and the silvery ovoid self-destructed, its casing and innards melting down into smoldering scrap.

“You’re right,” said the real Kuat, the one who now stood in the gathering place of the ruling households. “That is interesting.”

Not for what the holographic playback had shown him; his memory was clear enough about having opened up the messenger and watching what it had to show him. But for what was implied by the mere existence of the hologram, and it being in the hands of the Knylenns. The hologram had been recorded surreptitiously, in Kuat’s most private and guarded sanctuary. Recorded by some hidden device, without his knowledge, and then transmitted to Khoss of Knylenn and the other conspirators against the bloodline of Kuat. That meant a major breach of security, within the actual organization of Kuat Drive Yards. A breach that only one individual would be capable of creating.

Kuat of Kuat turned and looked over his shoulder at Fenald. His gaze was met with one that looked straight back into his eyes, without making any effort at aversion.

Then the head of security for Kuat Drive Yards gave a single nod. That was all that was necessary, even before he spoke. “Now you know,” he said.

“Yes—” For a second longer, Kuat regarded the man he had trusted more than any other sentient creature in the galaxy. “I suppose I do.” Many things were clear now, including why Fenald had been so insistent upon accompanying him to the gathering of Kuat’s ruling households. He wanted to be here, Kuat thought bitterly, to make sure he got paid. However much the Knylenns and the others had offered for this treachery …

He turned back toward the others assembled in the gathering place. Kodir of Kuhlvult gently touched Kuat’s arm. “You don’t look too good,” she said.

For a moment Kuat wondered if she was speaking about herself. During the holographic playback, he had heard a sudden gasp behind himself; he had glanced over his shoulder and had seen Kodir turn pale, eyes widened with surprise, as she had watched those re-created events from the past. He didn’t know what had struck her so forcefully, and right now there wasn’t time to find out.

“Don’t worry about me.” Kuat of Kuat slowly nodded. “I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.”

Kodir peered closely into his face. “Are you sure? Maybe we can get this meeting postponed; there might be enough members of the other households who aren’t completely tied in with the Knylenns who’d let you off for reasons of health. You really do look like you’ve just had a heart attack.”

“No—” Kuat brushed her hand away from the sleeve of his robe. “It’s better if I get it over with now. Besides …” He managed to smile at her. “I’ve got a few surprises of my own that Khoss and his bunch know nothing about.”

Kuat lifted his gaze toward the leader of the Knylenns, perched aboard the portable life-support system. He had to assume the worst about what the Knylenns were aware of, regarding his own schemes and actions. Whatever they had bribed his head of security with—former security head, Kuat reminded himself—it had obviously been enough to give them effective access to everything that had gone on inside the headquarters of Kuat Drive Yards. If they had known what to look for …

There was only one way to find out.

“You must be joking,” said Kuat. “Is it treachery for me to keep an eye on one of Kuat Drive Yards’ customers? We sell our wares to any creature who has the credits for them—as long as we can do so without incurring the wrath of the Empire. Some of our customers need a good deal of watching; I would have been a fool to have blindly trusted someone like Jabba the Hutt. You should be grateful to me for taking such precautions.”

“Precautions, are they?” Khoss of Knylenn’s voice took on a sarcastic edge. “And what cautious nature of yours led to the saturation bombing of a sector of the planet Tatooine’s surface known as the Dune Sea? Don’t try to deny that it happened. We know all about it, and that the bombing raid was personally directed by you, from aboard your Kuat Drive Yards flagship.”

So they possessed that knowledge as well; Kuat’s security head had done a thorough job of selling him out. “That’s none of your concern,” said Kuat stiffly. “Some things are necessary, the reasons for which cannot be revealed publicly. As long as Kuat Drive Yards is a profitable concern—and you reap your share of those profits—then all prying into these matters does nothing except hinder my running the corporation.”

“Ah!” Khoss leaned forward, above the grizzled head of the Knylenn Elder. “You wish to keep secrets from those closest to you, those with the greatest right to know.” A sweeping gesture of his arm took in the gathering place and those it held. “The representatives of this world’s ruling households are like children to you, incapable of understanding all your great schemes and maneuvers. Tell me, Kuat of Kuat—” Khoss spoke with icy scorn. “Are we supposed to be flattered by such an attitude on your part?”

This time, Kodir of Kuhlvult spoke up. “You can be as flattered or as offended as you choose,” she said. “But the truth is as Kuat tells it. The ruling households long ago chose to put their trust in his bloodline. We created the Inheritance Exemption specifically so that the Kuat family, from one generation to the next, could continue to manage the corporation from which our wealth comes. Are we now to revoke that trust, for no better reason than that Kuat of Kuat runs it as he sees fit?”

“Our little Kuhlvult cousin has made it clear just whose side she has taken.” Khoss directed his withering sneer at her, then spread his hands to the crowd around the base of the life-support system. “She was given the chance to join with the rest of the ruling households, those who desire justice and are not swayed by facile arguments about endangering the sources of our wealth. Perhaps she has her reasons for making such a choice. Why should treachery be limited to those of the Kuat bloodline? With the power that he commands, Kuat of Kuat has his ways of tempting the greedy and foolish into being his allies.”

The speech from Khoss of Knylenn was met with angry shouts from his assembled supporters. But another voice managed to rise above them.

“Nothing tempts me but the desire to make you eat your own words.” Kodir of Kuhlvult looked as if she were ready to climb up onto the life-support system and achieve her wish by force. “If there were any substance to them, it would make quite a mouthful for you, I’m sure. But they’re nothing but air. Nothing but lies and little hints and rumors, none of which add up to anything real.”

“My dear cousin,” said Khoss with feigned politeness, “it takes wisdom to measure the weight of things as subtle as Kuat’s treachery. He’s too smart to pursue his twisted ambitions openly, where anyone might see them.”

“So you bribe your way into my private quarters.” Kuat gestured toward his former head of security. “And you set spies onto those who have done you no harm.”

“I do what is necessary,” replied Khoss. “If it were what is required to uproot the evil that has taken root among us, I would embrace the darkest energies that could be found in this universe. But you’ve already beaten me to that, haven’t you? ”

“You talk nonsense.”

“Do I?” The brows rose high above Khoss’s eyes. “Is it nonsense to wonder about the meaning of not only Kuat’s own espionage, but also an unexplained bombing raid upon the surface of another planet? A planet which rumors have already been swirling about, throughout the galaxy? You might not be aware of the nature of those rumors and tales, but it seems clear enough that this certain planet known as Tatooine had already taken on a great importance in the eyes of both Emperor Palpatine and the most feared instrument of his will, Lord Darth Vader himself. And it is no great feat of espionage to have learned that the Rebel Alliance has gained a new and valuable leader in the form of one Luke Skywalker, whose home planet is this same Tatooine. Are we to believe it a mere coincidence that of all the inhabited worlds in the galaxy, the schemes of Kuat of Kuat should also revolve around Tatooine? Or is it not a greater likelihood that those schemes, regarding which Kuat asks us to trust him, have through his rashness and folly gotten our own world and our inheritance fatally enmeshed with the struggle between the Empire and the Rebellion?” As if on cue, the mutterings and shouts from the Knylenns and their affiliates rose to a higher pitch. “We don’t even know what purpose is served by all of Kuat’s scheming—he doesn’t consider us fit to be trusted with these vital secrets; only he should know these things. That is why Kuat has also concealed from us that he has received other messages from Tatooine, concerning the welfare of a certain notorious bounty hunter named Boba Fett. This bounty hunter may have also been a customer of Kuat Drive Yards at one time, but he’s rather more than that now.” Khoss jabbed a finger toward his adversary standing before the portable life-support system. “Is that not true, Kuat?”

The breach in security was more extensive than Kuat had originally feared. They’ve gone off-planet, Kuat realized. The Knylenn household had obviously been in touch with intelligence sources elsewhere in the galaxy, and had paid for what they wanted to know; that meant there was a good chance they had traced out a few more connections that Kuat would have preferred to keep hidden.

But what exactly had the Knylenns found out? That remained to be seen.

“Since you seem to know so much—” Kuat’s hand swept a gesture toward Khoss. “Why don’t you tell us what is true? Or what you think is true.”

“It’s not a matter of thinking, Kuat; it’s a matter of knowing. Or knowing enough; enough to be concerned about where your schemes have led us to.”

“And where is that?” Kuat kept his tone mild and even somewhat amused.

“You have kept much hidden—you show an undeniable talent, Kuat, for secrecy. But secrets can also be found out; truth has a way of revealing itself.” Khoss straightened himself behind the encased torso and scowling head of the Knylenn Elder, and folded his arms across his chest. “For is it not also true that these schemes also entangled you—and by extension, Kuat Drive Yards—with the criminal organization known as Black Sun? You’ve said that you value the Empire as a customer, and yet you also had secret dealings with the very creatures who continually circumvented Emperor Palpatine’s authority in the galaxy. I would call that a risky game, one that tried to play both sides against each other. That’s not good business, Kuat; that’s madness.”

So they don’t know everything, decided Kuat. Whatever intelligence sources the Knylenns had used, whatever information they had paid for, it hadn’t been enough to reveal all of his schemes and maneuvers. If Khoss of Knylenn had known exactly what had gone on with the Empire and Black Sun—and even the Rebel Alliance—he would have already used that knowledge against Kuat. Some of those schemes, such as Kuat’s attempt to link Prince Xizor, the leader of Black Sun, with the Imperial stormtrooper raid that had killed Luke Skywalker’s aunt and uncle, had gone beyond all reasonable concepts of risk—yet they had been necessary as well as part of Kuat’s calculated campaign to eliminate the threat that Xizor represented to Kuat Drive Yards. The scheme had failed—Kuat had already admitted that to himself. All his efforts now, including the bombing raid on Tatooine’s Dune Sea, were concentrated on eliminating the evidence of that scheme before the truth of it leaked out to Emperor Palpatine. Maybe I’m too late—if the Knylenns had gotten wind of even these few scraps of information, there was no telling what Palpatine, with his vastly superior intelligence organization, might already be aware of.

“Very well.” He had heard enough from Khoss of Knylenn. The state of the Knylenns’ perception of his secrets was clear. “I don’t care to tell you more than you already know. If you believe these matters to constitute treachery—and if you’ve convinced enough of the other ruling households that that is the case—only one question remains. What are you going to do about it?”

The Knylenn Elder spoke, its voice a grating rasp from the amplified speaker mounted at the front of the cylinder housing the ancient flesh. “The bloodline of Kuat … must pay the price … for its crimes …”

“ ‘Crimes’?” The Elder’s words seemed to enrage Kodir of Kuhlvult. She stepped forward from where she had been standing next to Kuat. “The crime is yours!” An accusing finger darted out, pointing directly at Khoss of Knylenn above her. “Your greed and ambition have led you to spy on and invent slanders against a fellow kinsman.” Kodir lowered her hand, letting the same gesture sweep across the ranks of the other Knylenns and their affiliates. “And all of you share the guilt for letting these suspicions poison your minds. The galaxy is at war, the Empire against the Rebels, and like it or not, we find ourselves on the battlefield. Now is not the time to conspire against the only one who has a chance of leading us to safety.”

“Lead us to ruin, more likely.” Khoss of Knylenn tempered the severity of his voice, the better to draw back into line any of his followers who might have had second thoughts. “Kuat of Kuat hides from us that which we most need to know—and that which would absolve him of suspicion, if his actions are indeed blameless. There are things we need to know, which he managed to keep secret. All he needs to do is dispel the darkness that he himself has created, and then our objections to the way he administers Kuat Drive Yards will melt away like dew upon the forest’s leaves.” The last bit of poetry was accompanied by an unpleasant smile. “What say you, Kuat of Kuat? You may have your secrets—but not without suspicions. Or accusations.”

The temptation was great to divulge exactly those things that Khoss and the other Knylenns demanded to know. Tell them, thought Kuat grimly, and let there be an end to it all. Upon the heads of the Knylenns and their affiliates, the blame would be as heavy as it was upon his own. Why should he be the only one to be crushed beneath this burden when all shared the benefits of his constant, unsleeping labors? He could feel the words splitting open his heart and rising to his tongue, the intricate details of his schemes forcing their way to the light …

Tell them the truth, thought Kuat. And give up any hope of success. Any chance of survival, of saving Kuat Drive Yards from its enemies.

That was the problem, the trap in which he was caught. Information flowed both ways; if the Knylenns were already in contact with spies and other shady intelligence sources, then anything revealed here would quickly find its way to those who would be even more interested in discovering the details of Kuat of Kuat’s schemes. Someone such as Prince Xizor would not have been grateful upon finding out that he had been the target for the net that Kuat had woven in hopes of trapping him within. And Xizor would have had ways of expressing his displeasure; ways that would have been personally unpleasant, then fatal for the schemes’ instigator. It was the price that came with playing games with such high stakes. What burned inside Kuat was the awareness that the cost of his failure would also be paid by Kuat Drive Yards. The corporation would cease to exist; even its name would be wiped from memory, as it was absorbed into the fabric of the Empire. Xizor’s intentions toward Kuat Drive Yards had been made plain long ago; all that he had lacked had been the pretext upon which he could convince Emperor Palpatine to seize the corporation’s valuable assets and make them his own. The discovery of schemes such as those launched by Kuat of Kuat would have more than sufficed for that purpose.

A choice such as that which Kuat faced was no choice at all. Kuat knew that to use the truth to defend himself against an enemy such as Khoss of Knylenn would only deliver him, and Kuat Drive Yards, into the hands of an even more implacable enemy. Better to maintain silence, he decided, and take whatever accusations they want to throw at me.

“I keep my own counsel,” Kuat answered aloud. “As do you yourself. You and your fellow conspirators did not seek the benefit of my advice before you saw fit to spy upon me. So be it. If all your prying cannot unveil what you seek to know, and if you cannot buy it with all the credits that my labors have put in your coffers, then you can hardly expect me to give you that information for free.”

Khoss of Knylenn smiled as he nodded. “That is exactly the answer I expected from you. That all of us, who have chafed under your unbridled power, thought we would hear from you. It comes as no surprise that you will not—or cannot—defend yourself.”

“He needs no defense,” said Kodir angrily, “from baseless accusations.”

The sneer returned to Khoss’s face. “It’s clear you’ve made your choice as to where you stand. If treachery can buy your loyalty, you’d better be satisfied with the price you got for it.” As though dismissing her from his consciousness, he turned his gaze back toward Kuat. “You see the numbers arrayed against you.” With both hands outspread, Khoss gestured toward his followers. “Rather an obvious majority, isn’t it? And they’ve appointed me to speak for them—they have sworn oaths of liege fealty to the Knylenn bloodline. Those oaths are binding and irrevocable. It is on that basis that I thus make the wishes of the ruling households known to you, Kuat of Kuat.”

“Ah! Is that so?” Kuat stroked his chin as he looked round at the wall of faces, then back up at Khoss. “That seems a great deal of power to be invested in one who is not, in fact, the head of the bloodline that he purports to represent.”

Khoss’s sneer changed to a dark scowl. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s very simple. And it is just as I say. You are not the head of the Knylenn bloodline; you are still but an heirling of that one from whom you will someday inherit the title. Those oaths from the other ruling households are not sworn to you, but to the person of another.” Kuat gestured toward the ancient, withered visage of the Knylenn Elder. “Should he not be the one to state the charges against me, and the one to pronounce whatever retribution this world’s heirs demand?”

A moment passed before Khoss replied. “Just so,” he said, his expression even more murderous than before. On the raised platform atop the portable life-support system, he took a step backward, still letting his hands rest upon the shoulders of the metal-encased Elder. “If it is your wish to hear him speak, then that is something easily granted.”

The Knylenn Elder’s yellowed eyes balefully glowered at Kuat. “I am old …” His voice was heavy with weariness and loathing. “And have not the strength … that I once had.” The sighing, gurgling noises of the life-support system formed a counterpoint to his words. “That is why … this younger one …” The Elder’s head raised in a gesture indicating Khoss standing above. “He speaks the words … that I would speak. He speaks …” The last words seemed to be forced out of the Elder’s mouth by sheer willpower. “With my authority. Doubt him not …”

“And is that your understanding as well?” Kuat looked across the faces of the Knylenns’ affiliates, ranked on either side of the life-support system’s machinery. “You listen to Khoss of Knylenn, because he speaks for the Elder of that household?”

He received a few nods from the affiliates. One of them, the Kadnessi Elder, spoke up. “Our loyalty is to the Knylenn Elder; he received our oaths long ago. But if he wishes his heir to speak for him, we have no objection to that.” The Kadnessi Elder peered sharply at Kuat. “Do you?”

“Not at all,” said Kuat. “Your oaths are sacred, and I respect them. But let us see if everyone honors them as I do.” He strode across the small distance between himself and the portable life-support system, one hand reaching up toward the controls visible on its front panel.

“Stop him!” Atop the machinery, Khoss of Knylenn shouted, his gesture jabbing frantically down toward Kuat.

Before he could lay his hand upon the portable life-support system, another grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around. The former security head for Kuat Drive Yards gathered one side of Kuat’s formal robes and pulled him close against himself.

“I know what you’re trying to do—” The former security head’s expression was set grim and tight as he reached with his other hand inside his jacket. “I didn’t sell you out to these people just so I could watch you defeat them.” A glistening vibroblade appeared in the former security head’s fist. “You have to realize—I’m on their side now.”

Kuat shoved the butt of his palm hard against the former security head’s chin, pushing the other man’s face to the side; with his forearm, he blocked the thrust of the vibroblade at his ribs. The former security head was younger and stronger than Kuat, too strong for him to break free of the other’s bearlike hold across his shoulder and neck. The vibroblade slashed downward across the sleeve of Kuat’s robe, parting the heavy fabric and slicing a millimeter-deep wound, precise as a surgical incision, along the back of Kuat’s arm. Blood welled out and seeped across the chests of both men, pressed tight against each other.

The fist holding the blade slammed up into Kuat’s solar plexus, knocking the breath from his lungs and forcing him a step backward. That gave the former security head enough space to draw his arm back and aim a slashing, fatal blow with the weapon, straight toward Kuat’s throat.

The blow never reached its target.

Gasping in sudden shock and pain, the former security head dropped the vibroblade; clattering, the blade spun across the floor. The former security head’s fingers clawed at Kodir of Kuhlvult’s forearm, jammed hard against his windpipe. With the same move, Kodir had thrust the point of one knee against the former security head’s spine; his shoulders arched backward in a tensed bow, his greater weight balanced against hers. Before he could act in any way other than pure, unthinking reflex, Kodir’s free arm swung her fist into the man’s temple, with enough force that the crack of bone was audible. The whites of his eyes rolled upward behind the trembling lids; when Kodir let go of him, he crashed unconscious to the gathering place’s floor.

Under the luminous dome, the assembled crowd had been struck silent by the quick burst of violent action in front of them. Before any of them could move, Kuat of Kuat had already darted forward and snatched up the vibroblade that had fallen from the former security head’s grasp. Blood trickled down his forearm and dripped from his elbow as he held the weapon up.

“I would advise everyone to continue standing very still.” The rush of adrenaline in Kuat’s veins had anesthetized him from the wound in his arm. The front of his formal robes, slashed open and spattered with red by the same blade that he now gripped, hung down toward the top of his boots. He kicked the scrap of heavy fabric aside as he stepped closer to the portable life-support system. “That goes for you as well,” said Kuat; he held the vibroblade higher, its glistening point on a straight line toward the throat of Khoss of Knylenn. “Stay right there. That way you’ll get a good view.”

Khoss of Knylenn froze in place, as though hypnotized by the sight of the blade. Before him, the yellowed eyes of the Knylenn Elder watched from beneath drooping lids, mouth slack and wet at its corners.

Kuat knew that he had only a few seconds before the Knylenns managed to break free of the shock that now held them. But that would be long enough.

He stepped close to the portable life-support system. The machinery shrieked, as though its metal and silicon were capable of feeling pain, when the vibroblade sliced through the exposed cables and hoses. The blood-cleansing apparatus sped up, then ground to a halt as its workings ran dry; the recycled blood and other floods spread in a glistening pool beneath the machinery’s tank treads.

Up above Kuat, the face of the Knylenn Elder distorted in a frozen rictus, the cords beneath the wrinkled flesh of his neck tightening and straining against the confines of the cylinder’s metal collar. A red bubble formed and burst at the wet corner of his mouth.

Another blow, this time with the point of the vibroblade, pried open the front panel of the portable life-support system. Kuat forced it open wide enough to get his fingers underneath the smooth edge of metal. As he strained against it, he was joined by Kodir of Kuhlvult at his side; the two of them managed to pull the front panel off the machinery and drop it with an echoing clang onto the gathering place’s floor.

Kuat no longer needed the vibroblade. Now he was able to reach into the workings of the life-support system and disable it.

“Back off—”

Kodir’s warning voice sounded from behind him. Kuat glanced over his shoulder and saw that she had scooped up the vibroblade. With her knees bent in a defensive crouch, Kodir used the weapon to keep the Knylenns and their affiliates at bay.

“Maybe you could hurry a little,” said Kodir, glancing back at Kuat. “I’m not going to be able to hold them forever.”

“This won’t take long.” A single motivator unit ran all the functions of the life-support system; Kuat grasped the top of the unit, gave it a turn to the right, and yanked it out of the center of the machinery’s circuits.

An inhuman screech sounded from the amplified speaker mounted above. As if Kuat of Kuat had struck a blow at the heart of a living beast, the portable life-support system shuddered and sank lower upon its treads, nearly toppling Khoss of Knylenn from its upper platform. The grey, withered face of the Knylenn Elder showed no sign of animation as Kuat grasped the bottom edge of the cylinder and tugged it free. Like an ancient warrior’s battle shield, it crashed on top of the other discarded sections of the machinery’s exterior.

The vibroblade brandished by Kodir of Kuhlvult didn’t cause the others in the gathering place to take a step backward, pushing themselves away from the hulk of unpowered devices in front of them. It was what they saw, revealed at the machinery’s heart.

Inside the opened cylinder, the corpse of the Knylenn Elder hung suspended—not held upright by the tubes and wires of the life-support system’s various components, but by a simple leather strap crossing the body’s shrunken chest. The flesh dried upon the protruding bones was as cold and lifeless as the surrounding metal, as though the skeleton were merely some part of the machinery’s framework. A last trace of the odor of decay had been released by the opening of the cylinder; a few of the Knylenns and their affiliates turned away in horrified disgust.

The Knylenn Elder had been dead for a long time; long before the portable life-support system had carried the disguised corpse into the gathering place. That much was obvious.

“Not a bad piece of work; very well designed.” With an engineer’s clinical admiration, Kuat pointed out the rest of the details. He pointed up at the wires and servo-linked pneumatic tubes running through the metal collar and into the base of the Elder’s skull. “As you can see, there was no need to go to the expense of preserving all of the body in a lifelike state; only the head of the Elder was necessary to give the impression that he was still alive and functioning. A few simple, real-time animating devices, a synthesized voice, and a database of vocabulary and mannerisms, all under the control of the Level 1 droid intelligence that was supposedly monitoring the life-support system’s components and the corresponding vital signs—basically, not an elaborate construct at all. But well done, nevertheless.” Kuat looked up at the pallid face of Khoss. “Who did you hire to do the work for you? Must have been expensive.” He slowly shook his head. “Offhand, I’d say it looks like a Phonane Mimesis Studios job—it’s the kind of thing they specialize in. But it might also have been—”

“How did you know?” Khoss’s hands were white-knuckled and trembling as they grasped what was left of the cylinder before him. His voice sounded more agonized than the fake Knylenn Elder’s had been. “It was perfect. It’s been over a year since the Elder died, and no one else has ever suspected …”

“They might have had their suspicions.” Kuat cast an amused glance at the others in the gathering place. “Perhaps they just didn’t want to say anything about it, since they had already decided to go along with your plans to wrest control of Kuat Drive Yards from me. And … I imagine you had a few accomplices.” Kuat looked again at the person standing atop the dead machinery. “I remember the Knylenn Elder well; he was not a stupid individual. Whatever his own ambitions for the Knylenn household, I doubt if he could have been convinced to go along with this plan of yours.”

“Is that how …”

“It was enough to arouse my own skepticism,” replied Kuat. “But I needed proof—and that wasn’t long in coming. It just shows that you’re not cut out to be an engineer, Khoss; you rely too much on clever machines. Someone who works with and designs them always knows that the human element is inescapable. And decisive.” He shook his head in mock ruefulness. “It’s always the simple things that trip people up. You programmed the droid intelligence in that device of yours pretty well; it was doing a decent enough imitation of the Knylenn Elder. But it got the facts wrong. It would have been very difficult for the Elder to have sworn before our biological mothers that he would outlive me, since our mothers never met. Mine died in giving birth to me. I was raised in the household of Kuat by the father from whom I received my inheritance. So when your phony Knylenn Elder didn’t catch me out in a simple falsehood—that’s when I knew it wasn’t really him.”

One of the Kadnessi, the male who had spoken up before, looked puzzled. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why would Khoss go to such elaborate lengths to make it appear that the Knylenn Elder was still alive? As soon as the word of the Elder’s death would have gotten out, that would be when Khoss would have been acknowledged as the heir of the Knylenn household.”

“That’s not difficult to figure out.” Kuat smiled. “It’s not enough to inherit the title when the oaths of fealty from the other ruling households were given to the person of the previous Knylenn Elder. None of you has ever sworn an oath to Khoss of Knylenn.” The notion brought a laugh from Kuat. “Why should you have? So for Khoss to proceed with his campaign to drive me out of the leadership of Kuat Drive Yards, he needed all the authority that went with the Knylenn Elder still being alive, without the inconvenience of the old man disagreeing with him about what should be done. The real question, of course, is …” Kuat’s voice darkened with sly hints. “Just how convenient was the Elder’s death? Perhaps our dear cousin Khoss might have … helped the process along. Just a little bit.”

“That … that’s a lie.” Khoss of Knylenn’s face had paled to a bloodless white. “If you’re saying I killed him—that I had anything to do with his death—”

“A very serious charge,” said the Kadnessi. He nodded solemnly, a gesture that was repeated by others in the crowd, including the Knylenns and their associates. “This will bear investigation. And if it should turn out to be true …”

“Then the murderer’s own life is forfeited.” Kodir of Kuhlvult spoke the words with evident satisfaction. “That is the law, as ancient as the ruling households themselves. It’s a capital crime for a designated heir to take an Elder’s life. And the punishment must be exacted, or the households would be awash in the blood of the victims.”

Atop the disabled machinery, the ruined manifestation of his scheme, Khoss was reduced to sputtering incoherence. His fists clenched as his face distorted with the rage of the impotent and guilty.

Kuat knew what to expect; he saw Khoss’s muscles tensing for one final act. It was no surprise to him when the defeated Knylenn heirling leaped from the machinery’s elevated platform, his hands clawing for his enemy’s throat.

This time, there was no need for assistance from Kodir. Kuat took care of the problem himself. The butt of one upraised hand caught Khoss at the edge of his jaw, snapping his head back; a blow from Kuat’s other fist sent the Knylenn sprawling at the feet of his kinsmen. He didn’t get up, though his chest could still be seen rising and falling, laboring for breath.

“Let me know,” said Kuat coldly, “what you decide about him. It would probably be best, for Kuat Drive Yards’ public relations if the execution were performed in as quiet a manner as possible. This kind of squabbling within the ranks is always seen as a weakness by outsiders.” He turned and strode away, toward the gathering place’s exit.

Fenald had just started to regain consciousness, and feebly raised a hand toward Kuat as he passed by him. Kodir planted the sole of her boot in the man’s chest and knocked him back flat against the floor.

“I don’t think the Kuat household is going to be needing your services anymore.” Kodir smiled as she looked over at Kuat of Kuat. “I’d say the chances are good that there’s going to be a new head of security at Kuat Drive Yards.” She set her fists against her hips and regarded Kuat with her head tilted to one side. “And so …?”

He looked back at her for only a second before making his decision. “All right,” said Kuat of Kuat. He nodded toward the exit and the corridor leading to the docking area. “The ship’s waiting.”