Star Wars The Old Republic Fatal Allianc - By Sean Williams Page 0,26

Behind them, one of the parties they’d overtaken was forcibly pushed back down the stairs, screaming plaintively.

“Are you sure you want to do it this way?” she asked him.

“This is the easy part,” he told her. “Watch.”

The guards crossed vibro-axes as they approached. Shigar stopped obediently and addressed them in a calm voice.

“You don’t need to see our documents. We have the required authorization.”

The axes parted, allowing them through.

“Two down,” Larin’s vocoder crackled.

Shigar repeated the mind trick on the other side of the entrance. Again the axes parted and they walked through. One door up, a loud party of Ortolans did the same, but with official IDs.

“Don’t look so smug,” Larin said to him. “I can see it even through your mask.”

A silver protocol droid stepped out in front of them, backed up by a pair of bug-eyed TT-2G guard droids. “This way, please. Purser Droog will assign you quarters sufficient to your needs.”

“That’s okay,” said Larin. “We know our way around.”

“If you’ll only allow us to verify your IDs,” said the droid more insistently, “Purser Droog will ensure that you are accommodated appropriately.”

“Really, you don’t need to worry.”

“No worry at all, honored guests. You must allow us to show you the proper hospitality.”

Heavy emphasis on the word must prompted Shigar to look up. Weapons emplacements on the interior side of the wall had tracked to target them. The Gamorreans clearly weren’t the only barriers to entry to Tassaa Bareesh’s castle.

“Of course,” Shigar told the droid, suppressing the slightest sign of concern in his voice. “We don’t want to make a fuss.”

The droid bowed and led them to a desk, behind which sat an ill-looking Hutt with deep pouches under his eyes. He was busy with the noisy Ortolans, who appeared to have mislaid one of their passports. This was another setback. Hutts were immune to all forms of Jedi persuasion, so that wasn’t going to work this time. Shigar thought frantically. Fighting his way in wasn’t an option, given the emplacements and the need for secrecy. Neither was fighting his way out, since there were just as many weapons that way. If he didn’t think of something else fast, they would be trapped.

Finally, the purser waved the Peripleens on and gestured for Shigar and Larin to approach.

“Kimwil Kinz and Mer Corrucle,” he said, giving the Hutt the fake names they had settled on during the journey to Hutta. Cupping his hand over his credit chip, he slid it across the desk as though it were some kind of official documentation. Indicating the backs of the Ortolans, disappearing in a huddle into the palace proper, he added, “We’re with them.”

The jaded eyes of the Hutt regarded him with a mixture of hostility and disdain. There was no way of telling which way he would fall. Was he automatically loyal to Tassaa Bareesh, who had placed him in this position of responsibility, or was he bored or drunk enough on his own small power to take up the opportunity Shigar presented? The contents of the credit chip were considerable; they represented everything he had been given to fulfill his mission. If he took it, that would be money well spent.

The purser swept up the chip and tucked it into the folds of his body.

“You’d better hurry,” he rumbled in Huttese. “They’re leaving without you.”

Shigar led Larin away, feeling exposed under the emplacements and full of loathing for the Hutts and the corruption they embraced so readily. Most likely, the purser would betray them within minutes of letting them through, but if he could just get out of his direct line of sight, he and Larin could disappear into the palace’s throng, never to be seen again.

They walked twenty-five paces without interference. At the first available doorway, he turned left, then immediately left again. When no sound of pursuit rang out behind them, he let the breath he’d been holding escape through his teeth.

Larin heard it. “That went as planned, did it?”

“Precisely,” he said with fake cheeriness. “You weren’t worried, were you?”

“Not for a second.” She shook her head. “Let’s find somewhere quiet and out of the way. We need to change the way we look.”

They squeezed into a niche and Shigar gratefully rid himself of the mask and a large amount of his leather rancor-riding gear, leaving him wearing just pants, boots, and a tight black vest on his upper body. He felt 50 percent lighter and was grateful to regain free use of his arms. Larin unsealed her helmet and