Those acts had seemed natural enough-or at least easy and satisfying-when Kud'ar Mub'at had done them. Sometimes though, in the web's dark and silent drifting between stars, in those brief intervals when there was no business to be conducted, the assembler allowed itself to wonder if it might be the exception, an aberration from the natural order. Perhaps its millennia-old predecessor had grown old and tired, and had created and groomed its chosen successor with an innate capacity to rebel, kill, consume, and usurp. Perhaps it hadn't been rebellion so much as fulfillment. The notion didn't bother Kud'ar Mub'at; in fact, it gave the assembler a little glimmer of hope, deep inside itself. Perhaps Kud'ar Mub'at could trust the little accountant subnode named Balancesheet, no matter how smart and independent it had evolved to be; perhaps Kud'ar Mub'at wouldn't have to destroy this most precious and worthy of all his creations, ingest its matter and spin out a new bookkeeping subnode, but one that could never replace dear little Balancesheet. . .
Kud'ar Mub'at pushed those thoughts away, as it had done so many times before. I can't allow it. Thoughts such as those were not the cold and precise calculations by which it had reached its present position of real if hidden power and influence. Kud'ar Mub'at knew that any emotions, even those directed toward its most faithful subnodes, constituted a trap. A trap with Kud'ar Mub'at's own death loaded into the catch of its spring.
Better it than me, Kud'ar Mub'at had already decided. Even though the assembler was connected by neural strands to all the web's subnodes, it didn't consider the whole lot of them to be identical with its own precious self. With the viewpoint from the dangling optical node, Kud'ar Mub'at regarded its own shed exoskeleton; the smaller form of Balancesheet, like a miniature version of its creator, was just barely visible, if one knew to look, behind the glossy transparency of the carapace's compound eyes. How sad, thought Kud'ar Mub'at. With intelligence came deceit. It was ever thus, Kud'ar Mub'at supposed, inside the web and throughout that larger galaxy beyond it.
Nevertheless, the resolve to eliminate the accountant subnode had to be delayed, at least for a little while. Necessarily so, and not out of mere weakening sentiment; at this stage in the complicated plans regarding Boba Fett and the remnants of the former Bounty Hunters Guild, the assistance of little Balance-sheet was still required. Kud'ar Mub'at knew the dangers of the game it was playing. When the pawns on the gameboard were like the Trandoshan Bossk, the results of one's deceptive maneuvers being found out were inevitably fatal, and in the most unpleasant manner possible. Bossk didn't yet know-and Kud'ar Mub'at was determined that he never would-that Boba Fett wasn't the only creature involved in the breakup of the old Bounty Hunters Guild. The scheme hadn't originated with Kud'ar Mub'at either, but had been brought to the assembler by that veritable eminence among plotters and double-dealers, Prince Xizor.
The Falleen noble was an altogether different type of creature from the so-easily hoodwinked Bossk. Both Falleens and Trandoshans were reptilian species, and equally cold-blooded. But a hot-tempered streak diluted the chill of Trandoshan blood; given the choice between successful scheming and disastrous violence, a creature such as Bossk would always go for the latter option. With Prince Xizor, as with all Falleens, nothing raised the temperature of his moods-the emotions that ran hot in other creatures, whether lust or other violence, were merely tools of Xizor's precise and merciless mind. That was what Kud'ar Mub'at appreciated the most about doing business with him. When Xizor had been here at the web, laying out the scheme against the Bounty Hunters Guild, Kud'ar Mub'at had perceived more than a mere business associate in the Falleen. Xizor at least was a worthy opponent on the other side of the gameboard.
This one, however
Another thought leaked into Kud'ar Mub'at's central cortex. A moment passed before the assembler realized the thought wasn't its own.
This one, came Balancesheet's unspoken words, is too easy.
Another moment, as Kud'ar Mub'at recovered from its surprise. The accountant subnode's thoughts had broken into Kud'ar Mub'at's own, entirely unbidden. That had never happened before. And it had been in response to Kud'ar Mub'at's interior musing about the differences between Trandoshans and Falleens. Those thoughts, the contrast between Bossk and Prince Xizor, had not been directed out along the web's neural pathways, toward the subnode hidden inside Kud'ar Mub'at's discarded exoskeleton.
It was listening, thought Kud'ar Mub'at. To me. And then Kud'ar Mub'at was unable to keep from wondering if the subnode had heard that thought as well.
Kud'ar Mub'at stilled all its thoughts, creating a perfect silence inside itself. For a few moments, all it did was wait and watch, letting the image from the optical node fill the momentary vacuum of its consciousness.
What would you have me do now?
Balancesheet had spoken again, the words forming inside Kud'ar Mub'at's cortex, as real as the assembler's own thoughts. Across from the sheltering carapace, the bounty hunter Bossk sat in the web chamber, unaware of the silent conversation taking place.
Only a few seconds had passed since the accountant subnode, pretending to be Kud'ar Mub'at, had made its excuses to the bounty hunter Bossk. Given the impatient nature of all Trandoshans, it was probably not a good idea to make him wait much longer. Kud'ar Mub'at regained enough of his internal composure to address the waiting Balancesheet.
Proceed with the negotiations, spoke Kud'ar Mub'at along the neurofibers connecting him to the subnode. The Trandoshan's confidence has obviously been gained, due to the excellence of your masquerade performance. Kud'ar Mub'at kept the tone of its thoughts carefully unemotional and controlled, suppressing any sign of anxiety or suspicion on its part. If that is easy for you, so much the better.
The subnode's response held the same apparent lack of emotion. As you wish, thought Balancesheet, and as you so wisely instructed me.
For a few seconds longer, Kud'ar Mub'at watched via the optical node in the smaller chamber as the disguised Balancesheet resumed its cajoling flattery of the Trandoshan Bossk. The assembler kept its own thoughts hidden, disconnected from the strands that might have conveyed them to the accountant subnode or any other that Kud'ar Mub'at had created. Its resolve, that it had already made regarding the fate of Balancesheet, was even stronger now.
As soon as this business with the Bounty Hunters Guild is over, Kud'ar Mub'at assured itself. Definitely. The assembler allowed its consciousness to flow back from the extended neural fibers of its web and recondense in its own body. Kud'ar Mub'at was once again aware of the main web chamber surrounding itself, where it had left Gleed Otondon, the True Guild's emissary, waiting. Better safe than sorry. . .
"It's about time," Gleed Otondon grumbled as the assembler raised its head and blinked its multiple eyes." I don't have endless Standard Time Units to waste on this matter."
"An infinity of apologies. My most profound regrets." Kud'ar Mub'at rearranged itself into the gently sighing, accommodating nest. The assembler performed another imitation of a humanoid bow, lowering the narrow triangle of its head before the visitor." Farthest from my mind is any wish to seem other than entirely honored by your presence; believe me."