“I’ve made sure that supplies have been seen arriving here with an accompanying degree of security procedure. Move­ment by night, that sort of thing. Given the nobility of the local population, I’m sure someone will trade that informa­tion for some bauble or other. It always worked for me.”

“This reinforcement will not save my home from destruc­tion.”

“You’re right, Ankkit. Wooden structures don’t bear up well to cannons. That’s why I’ve moved Doctor Uthan back to the facility. If I have to, I can actually defend metal and stone more successfully.”

“So why did you move her here in the first place?”

“I’m surprised that you even have to ask. To keep every­one guessing, of course.”

It had seemed like a sensible idea at the time: he hadn’t known what he was dealing with. Now he was fairly sure that he was facing no more than ten men. Had an army landed, he’d have known by now. Moving Uthan—not a task he could achieve in complete secrecy anyway—had helped thicken the fog of confusion.

Hokan was leaving nothing to chance. He was laying a trail of clues that would lead the enemy commandos to one conclusion: that Uthan and the nanovirus were barricaded in Lik Ankkit’s villa.

A droid dragged a heavy alloy joist through the salon, plowing a furrow in the golden floorboards. Ankkit let out a muffled squeal of frustration. The droid’s comrades lifted the joist and aligned it with a horizontal beam, knocking over a fine Naboo vase and smashing it. Droids weren’t pro­grammed to say Oops and sweep up the fragments. They simply crunched through them, oblivious.

Ankkit was shaking again. He screamed for a servant. A sullen-looking local boy appeared with a brush and swept the debris into a pan.

“Oh dear,” Hokan said. He didn’t think it was the right time to mention that the labyrinth of wine cellars and secure vaults beneath the villa was now packed with explosives. He didn’t know how to revive a Neimoidian who had fainted, and he had no intention of learning.

Lieutenant Hurati was waiting outside the front door. Even when not under scrutiny, Hurati stood with military composure. Hokan had never caught him sneaking a drink from a flask or scratching himself. Hurati didn’t straighten up when he saw Hokan, because he was already at attention.

“Sir, Doctor Uthan is getting irritated about the disrup­tion,” the lieutenant said.

“I’ll talk to her. How is our droid signal chain working out?”

“It’s adequate, sir, but I would feel more secure if we had comm monitoring online.”

“My boy, there was a time when we had no listening sta­tions, and we had to fight wars by observation and our own wits. It can be done. What have the droids spotted?”

“The incursions appear to be limited to Teklet and the area to the south, sir, and quite specific in nature. At least we know why they attacked the quarry office. I have to say I haven’t encountered an excavator bomb before.” Hurati licked his lips nervously. “Sir, are you sure you don’t want any patrols to search the Teklet road? I’d be happy to do it myself, sir. It’s no trouble.”

Hokan took it for the genuine concern it was rather than a criticism. “No, we could be chasing gdan trails all over the region. Our enemy is obviously good at diversionary tactics, and I’m not going to take any bait. I’ll wait for them to take mine.” He patted Hurati’s back. “If you’re anxious to be busy, keep an eye on Ankkit. I don’t want him interfering. Restrain him by any means you consider necessary.”

Hurati saluted. “Will do, sir. Also—Lieutenant Cuvin … I don’t think he will make captain, as you said.”

Hokan liked Hurati more every day. “Has his removal from the promotion list been noted by your fellow officers?”

“It has, sir.”

“Good. Well done.”

Hurati was proving to be a loyal aide. He was eager to obey. Hokan decided he would have to watch him. He pro­moted him anyway. There was nothing to be gained by will­fully ignoring excellence in another.

CO Majestic to Republic Command, Coruscant

On station and awaiting contact from Omega Squad. All commu­nications from Teklet ground station have ceased. Separatist vessel has approached and is standing off our port bow at 50 kilometers-has not responded to signals but is believed to be a Techno Union armed transport. Will engage if vessel appears to be taking hostile action. Standing by.

“Turned out nice again,” Fi said, somewhere ahead of the column.

“You been on the stims?” Niner asked.

“I’m just naturally cheerful.”

“Well, I’m not, so where did you get it from?”

Niner didn’t like being tail on a patrol. He walked back­ward, scanning the trees, wondering why he was this close to Imbraani without a sign of enemy contact since Teklet.

Tinnies couldn’t climb trees. It was the wets he was wor­ried about.

“Want to swap?” Fi said.

“I’m fine.”

“Just say the word.”

Fi was about a hundred meters ahead on point. Atin walked behind Guta-Nay. The Weequay was carrying a fair share of the ordnance and equipment they’d had to load on their backs since abandoning the excavator droid and the speeder bike.

“Very quiet, all things considered,” Atin said. “Mind if I send up a remote?”

“Might as well,” Niner said. “Patch visual through to all of us, will you?”

“We there yet?” Guta-Nay asked.

“Soon.” Niner hadn’t found the Weequay much use so far except as a pack animal. All he seemed to know about Hokan’s tactics was that they hurt bad. “Now, are you going to be cooperative, or am I going to return you to your boss?”

“You not do that! It cruel it is!”

“He’ll probably just give you a big kiss and tell you how much he’s missed you.”

“He gonna cut my—”

“I’m sure he will. Want to tell us more about the droids?”

“A hundred.”

“Any SBDs?”

“What?”

“Super—battle—droids.” Niner indicated the bulky shape with his arms held away from his sides, letting his rifle hang on its webbing. “Big ones.”

“No. I seen none, anyway.”

“I told you we should have slotted him,” Fi said. “Still, he carried a bit of gear. I suppose we ought to cut him some slack for that.”

The metallic sphere of the remote rose just above the level of the trees and shot off. Niner’s field of vision was inter­rupted in one quadrant by an aerial view of the countryside. As the remote tracked along paths and swooped among branches, it was clear that nobody was about, a worrying thing in itself. Then it dived in to show a familiar figure, stripped to the waist, bending over a makeshift basin of soapy water fashioned from a section of plastoid sheet.

The remote hovered above Darman as he reached for his rifle, not even raising his eyes.

“Sarge, is that you?”

Niner was staring into the business end of Darman’s Deece. It was a sobering close-up. “We’re about ten minutes from the RV Going anywhere nice?”

The rifle disappeared from the frame and Darman, half shaved, stared back. “Knock first, will you?”

“I’m glad to see you, too. Where’d you get that wound?”

“This one? Or this one?”

“The burn.”

“A Trandoshan. Ex-Trandoshan, actually. We’ve had a lit­tle more attention than we’d have liked.”

“The commander’s still in one piece?”

“Well, this bruise is hers. I’m teaching her to fight dirty. She’s catching on.”

“Get the kettle boiling, then. We’re bringing a guest.”

Darman’s faintly impatient expression dwindled below the remote and was replaced by an open view over Imbraani. It wasn’t so much a town as a scattering of farms, with a few knots of industrial-looking buildings dotted among them. Atin sent it higher and a few more remote buildings were visible.