"Indeed." Xizor was impressed, both with the subnode's ingenuity-and the possibilities it presented. Kud'ar Mub'at had been getting on his nerves for a long time now. Perhaps the assembler's usefulness was already coming to an end." You're right about one thing. . ."
"And what is that?" Balancesheet's bright, round eyes peered into Xizor's gaze.
"We do have a lot to talk about."
13
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."