The Approaching Storm

Dubiously, and without getting any closer than was ab solutely necessary, the majordomo scrutinized the shiftless pair. Closer inspection did not produce encouragement. "At the risk of insulting your judgment, if not them, O Bossban, I would say that they appear to be slightly felek. Mentally deranged. Addled."

"Indeed they are. Just enough." Looking hugely pleased with himself, as well as more than usually huge, Soergg leaned back on his tail. "In the course of carrying out research for my many business interests, I have discovered that even a minor mental illness is sometimes sufficient to confuse perception of the Force in those who are capable of it. Psychosis acts like a fogged piece of transparisteel, distorting but not completely hiding what lies beyond." He gestured at his new hirelings. Bulgan smiled vacantly in response. "These two are indeed slightly mad. In their madness lies the secret of our success."

Enlightened, Ogomoor eyed the pair with fresh interest, if not increased respect. "I've been trying to place their garb. While they're obviously Alwari, I have to admit I don't recognize their clans."

"That is hardly surprising," Soergg grunted, "since they have no clans. Because of their physical and mental infirmities, they have been cast out. Sent to live in the hated cities, where they eke out a living doing whatever work comes their way." He beamed as much as a Hutt could beam. "With what I have agreed to pay them, they will do anything I ask. Anything! Even attempt to capture a Jedi Padawan." He snorted derisively. "Like so many, credits mean more to them than morals."

Including a people called the Hutts, Ogomoor thought.

"That's so, it is," declared Bulgan, speaking for the first time. His words were somewhat difficult to understand as he still had one finger up his nose.

"We'll do it." The elocution of his one-armed companion Kyakhta was somewhat better, being uninfracted by the kind of digital nasal blockage that was presently afflicting his companion. "We can do it." As Kyakhta spoke, Bulgan blinked his one good eye; the thick, opaque Ansionian lid flashing meaningfully from left to right.

"The Jedi will not be able to sense their approach." Soergg was visibly reveling in the inimitability of his plan.

"Not via the Force, perhaps, Bossban. But the humans still have eyes, and reactions more sharply honed than those of most sentients."

The Hutt nodded patiently, having thought it all out in ad vance. "Our friends here will flatch the snatch late in the day. Even Jedi require the occasional break from their duties. The four who trouble us have been observed taking in the sights of Cuipernam. As they do so, sometimes they separate. Jedi they may be, but they are still of two different genders. The females often seek out different things than the males. If a younger Padawan can be caught out a distance away from its Master, the abduction may be accomplished. Most Jedi, so it is said, rely on their senses to warn them when danger approaches. Sensing no danger in these two idiots, they will ignore them as they continue with their sight-seeing." With an imperious wave of one hand, he dismissed the two addled but willing kidnappers.

"Go now! You know where the visitors stay." He smiled un pleasantly. "Everyone knows, as they are official guests of the Unity delegation and the city council of Cuipernam. If you succeed, take the Padawan to the chosen place and wait there for my further orders."

Kyakhta turned and bowed. When Bulgan did not, his companion smacked the other clanless one on the back of his bald skull. Bulgan then turned and, being already bent, did not have to bow. But he did at least remove his finger from his nose. Together, they backed out of the room through the door that had granted them admittance. Ogomoor was still dubious- but a flicker of anticipation had begun to burn within him.

"An audacious plan, to be sure, Bossban. But risky."

"What risk?" Lumbering to his right, Soergg shoved a fist into a bowl filled with turgid liquid and fished out something the sight of which made Ogomoor blanch. Unrepentant, the Hutt tilted back his head, dropped the noisome contents of his closed hand into his cavernous maw of a mouth, and swallowed noisily, smacking his lips by way of appreciation. "The risk falls entirely on those two cretins. If they fail, the Jedi will surely kill them."

"And if they do not, but only wound and capture them? Art less as they are, they will surely tell the Jedi who hired them to attempt such a task."

Soergg's great belly heaved as he laughed. "Once they com mence the operation, they are to report personally to me at prescribed intervals via closed-band comlink. Two nights ago, while they slept the sleep of the simple, I had my own physician install a small device in the neck of each. Should they fail to report" — he tapped one finger into an open, greasy palm-"I will remotely activate the devices. Before they can give away any incriminating information, the very compact explosive charges contained within will separate their heads from their shoulders. Rather messily, I'm afraid."

"What then, Great One?" Ogomoor was curious to know.

Soergg shrugged, fleshy ripples ru

Kyakhta swirled the lightweight, waterproof robes more tightly around him, the better to hide his face. They were the robes of a member of the Pangay Ous. That was not his clan. He and Bulgan were Tasbir, of the Southern Hatagai. But it felt good to be back in clan gear even if it was not his own, even if it had not been earned.

The robes were necessary to allow them to blend in with the crowds that filled the bustling marketplace. Remembering the small device clipped to his waistband beneath the robes, he fingered it briefly, as per the instructions of their master the Hutt. Soergg had been most insistent that they call in regularly. After all, he had informed them, explaining how the explosive devices implanted in their necks worked, if they failed to check in at the appointed time, they would not live long enough to collect their pay. Kyakhta and Bulgan had been deeply touched by this intimate expression of the Hutt's concern for their welfare.

There were larger marketplaces on Ansion than Cuiper-nam's. In these days of modern intragalactic commerce, the majority of transactions involved little more than an exchange of numbers and symbols. But on many worlds, the old-style, traditional marketplace still retained a warm spot in the hearts of the local inhabitants. Trading by machine might be more efficient, and allow for an infinitely greater variety and volume of goods to be bartered, but there was no joy in it. The delights of doing business face to face remained one of life's small pleasures in an increasingly automated galactic civilization.

Besides, what did a local specialist vendor of marthan fruit need with the expense and complications of an electronic trading nexus? And how many visitors and gawkers and tourists would a portable information shifter draw to a community's downtown? Not to mention that face-to-face business provided a way to avoid many taxes. Among those inhabitants of Ansion who were heartily in favor of secession could be counted many notable merchants. It wasn't so much the taxes themselves that had caused them to distance themselves from the Republic-it was the endless and ever-growing list of rules and regulations. Though these concerns were shared throughout the Republic and had been passed on to the Senate by citizen representatives, like so much else, they seemed never to be acted upon. Isolated and coddled on distant Coruscant, the galactic government had grown ever more divorced from the needs and aspirations of the people it purported to govern.