Sienar tried to focus on his mount and ignore the seethe of concerns that had occupied him since his last encounter with Tarkin.

The animal, a gray-blue trith prancer, trotted on six graceful legs around Sienar's private arena, responding to his faintest ankle tap or tug on upward-jutting shoulder bones. A trith prancer's back formed a natural saddle-if the genetic manipulation of a thousand generations could be considered natural. Sienar's animals-he owned three prancers-were the finest money could buy, another luxury he was reluctant to put at risk. Too soft, too attacked, too inflexible!

Nevertheless, Sienar rode and tried to enjoy himself.

He pulled back gently, and the trith rose up on its two rear pairs of legs, pawing the air elegantly. It emitted musical fluting noises that thrilled Sienar to his core. Once, he could have ridden a trith across open prairie for days and been perfectly happy- happy, that is, until another spacecraft design occurred to him.

Now it was likely he would be neither riding nor designing for some months. Tarkin seemed to think he could alter Sienar's life, intrude into his business affairs, threaten him, and dine opulently from his table of secrets.

The difficulty was, Tarkin was probably correct: buried in this morass of obligation and coercion was a real opportunity. Still, Tarkin himself was likely to benefit the most from Sienar's participation.

He spun his animal around and pushed with his ankles to get it to gallop on two rear sets of legs. This was a difficult behavior, and Sienar was proud of how well his animals performed. They had won many prizes at competitions on several planets.

A commotion broke out near the wide double door to the arena. Security droids backed into the arena, gesturing frantically. Sienar quickly dismounted and hid behind the trith, staring over the smooth fur of its back.

Tarkin walked between the droids, ignoring their warnings. Astonishingly, he carried a Senate-grade ionic disruptor, which rendered security droids harmless.

Sienar smiled grimly and walked around the trith, which blew out its breath in some alarm at the stranger. Fortunately, Tarkin had come this time without his Blood Carver.

"Good morning, Raith," Tarkin called out cheerfully. "I need to view this Sekotan ship of yours. Now."

"By all means," Sienar said pleasantly. "Next time, you should give me some warning. Not all of my security droids are vulnerable to disruptors, you know. It's good I anticipated your rudeness. . and programmed them to recognize you. Otherwise they would have shot you as soon as you passed through that door."

Tarkin looked over his shoulder and paled slightly. "I see," he said, putting away the disruptor. "No harm done."

"Not this time," Sienar muttered.

Sienar had kept two of his old factory sites in the ancient depths of the capital city, long after he had moved all operations to fancier locations. The rent was cheap, and any curious intruders could be disposed of with little legal difficulty. In fact, this was where he posted most of his offworld and noncompliant security droids, the finest money could smuggle. They took orders only from Sienar.

As guards, droids were fine. Their wits could not be dulled by boredom.

Tarkin followed, for the first time visibly nervous. His own security droids seemed small and inconsequential beside the large, heavily armored silver machines that guarded the remains of the Sekotan ship in its dark, dry, cavernous hangar.

"Just this hulk cost me a hundred million credits," Sienar said, switching on a few key lights around the echoing hangar. "As you can see, it's not in very good shape."

Tarkin walked around the scabrous hulk in its shimmering refrigeration field. The once-graceful curves had subsided into a wrinkled, deflated mass, despite deep-freezing and less obvious efforts at preservation.

"It's biological," Tarkin observed, nose wrinkling.

"I thought you would have known that already."

"I didn't think it was. . this organic," he said. "I had been told the ships were in some sense alive, but. . Not much use when dead, are they?"

"A curiosity, like some preserved deep-sea monstrosity, rarely seen," Sienar said. "As for understanding its capabilities, well, there's not much left to analyze."

"I have some images," Tarkin said. "Ships in outlying ports, taking on fuel."

"And nutrients, no doubt," Sienar said. He probably had seen the same images.

"Is it plant, or animal?"

"Neither. It cannot reproduce by itself. No cellular structure, dense and varied tissues that can incorporate both metals and a variety of high-strength, heat-resistant polymers… A marvel. But without its owner, it quickly dies, and quickly decays."

"Reminiscent of Gungan technology on Naboo, perhaps?" Tarkin suggested.

"Perhaps," Sienar said. "Perhaps not. The Gungans manufacture their ships from organic matter, but the ships are not themselves alive. This. . seems to be very different. Before your generous offer, I was looking for an owner willing to allow me access to a fully functioning Sekotan ship. So far, however, there are no takers. It seems secrecy is part of the contract, and betrayal could end an owner's relationship with his vessel. This was the best I could do."

"I see," Tarkin said. "I chose the right man for this mission, Raith. I had a feeling you'd be up on all this."

"Now that you've seen my expensive but disappointing prize," Raith said, "can I offer you some breakfast? It's late, and I haven't had time to dine."

"No, thank you," Tarkin said. "I have many more visits to make today. Keep your schedule open, my friend. Something could happen at any minute."

"Of course," Raith said. My time is yours, Tarkin. I am patient.