Darth Plagueis

“We’re equals aboard this ship,” Lah said. “I don’t make any major decisions without at least hearing everyone out — whether those decisions involve the cargo we transport or where we deliver it. And while you’re trying to make up your mind whether I’m noble or simply foolish, let me add that I don’t care what you think of the arrangement. As you said: it’s the situation.”

Plagueis smiled without showing his teeth. “In that case, Captain, I await the results of the summit.”

Lah relaxed somewhat. “You’re going to have to sit tight in the meantime.”

Plagueis took the conditions in stride. “Take as much time as needed. The closer we get to Ithor, the closer I am to home.”

The words stopped her cold. “How do you know we’re bound for Ithor?”

“The same way I know that your name is Ellin Lah.” Delighting in her confusion, Plagueis said: “I’m not a telepath, Captain Lah. After I selected your ship from among those on the field, I sliced into Bal’demnic’s spaceport network.”

She tilted her head in a mix of interest and unease. “Why the Woebegone, then?”

Plagueis sniffed. “I don’t gamble, Captain, unless I know that the odds of winning are on my side.”

She snorted. “That’s not gambling.”

In the main cabin space, 11-4D had been monitoring the conversation of the crew members since their return from cargo bay 4. The closest thing the Woebegone had to an actual medical specialist, the droid was responsible for the care and health of the crew, and so it had grown accustomed to eavesdropping on conversations whenever and wherever possible. Having created individual profiles based on heartbeat and breathing rates, body temperature and language, facial expression and vocalization, the droid understood that the discovery of a Muun intruder aboard the ship had significantly elevated Maa Kaap’s stress level.

“When have you ever known a Muun to do that?” the Zabrak was saying.

“When have you ever known a Muun, period?” Wandau asked in kind.

“All right, then, when have you ever heard about a Muun doing that?”

Before Maa Kaap or anyone else could respond, the captain entered the cabin space, clearly confounded though doing her best to disguise it. 11-4D noted increased blood flow in her head-tails, which were themselves sensory organs, and a change in her pigmentation — a Togruta response to nervous tension that sometimes prompted involuntary mimetic camouflage.

“So,” Maa Kaap said, coming to his feet.

The crew members listened intently as Captain Lah summarized the short exchange she’d had with the Muun stowaway, who had refused to provide any personal details, not even his name. Nor had he offered explanation for his presence on Bal’demnic, or divulged the reason behind his wanting to depart in haste. Most important, he had revealed nothing about the cause or nature of his injury. Instead he had fixed on arranging a deal for passage to Muunilinst, a world on the distant Braxant Run and corporate headquarters of the InterGalactic Banking Clan.

“What’s your gut telling you about him, Captain?” PePe asked, his pointed ears twitching in curiosity.

Captain Lah glanced back at the corridor that led to cargo bay 4. “He’s as slick as they come and used to getting his way. But either we take him back to Bal’demnic — and put our cargo at risk — or we drop him at our first stop and make him someone else’s problem.”

“Or we just jettison him now,” Wandau said.

Lah shook her head. “We don’t know he didn’t tell someone on Bal’demnic that he was stowing away. And if he did, his disappearance could put us in serious muck.”

“What’s it going be, then?” Maa Kaap pressed.

Lah made her lips a thin line. “I think we should get him off our hands as soon as possible.”

Wandau and Zuto exchanged glances. “You don’t want to even discuss coming up with a price for passage?”

“I’ve never been on the Braxant Run,” Lah said. “Have any of you?”

Heads shook.

“Is he willing to cover the cost of the spoiled cargo?” PePe asked.

“He said he would.”

“Then maybe we take him to Ithor,” the Kaleesh went on. “If he proves to be a cooperative passenger, we could consider taking him all the way to Muunilinst. Certainly wouldn’t hurt to get familiar with that corner of space.”

“I don’t know …” Lah took her lower lip between her teeth.

“I’ll go one step further,” Zuto said, leading with his whiskered snout. “I mean, this Muun could be a jackpot that’s fallen right into our laps. Weren’t you just saying that no bank would ever grant us a loan against the Woebegone? Well, Muunilinst is the bank, and this Muun can provide all the collateral we’ll ever need.”

“Our reward for years of leading clean lives,” PePe added.

Lah regarded the two of them. “Meaning what? We hold him for ransom?”

Zuto drew in his tusks and shrugged. “We don’t have to call it that.”

“Forget it,” Lah said. “We’ve never done that — well, once, maybe — but we’re not about to do it again.”

“I agree,” Maa Kaap said.

Wandau’s head bobbed. “Same.”

PePe withdrew somewhat. “Okay, so I was just thinking out loud.”

“There’s something else,” Maa Kaap said. Raising his big hand, he beckoned to 11-4D. “Tell the captain what you were telling us.”

The droid moved to where the crew members were gathered and swiveled its round head toward Lah. “Captain, I merely pointed out that Muuns are not known to travel unaccompanied without ample reasons for doing so. In fact, most Muuns are reluctant to leave Muunilinst for any purpose other than to transact business negotiations.”

“That’s exactly what I was saying about collateral,” PePe interrupted. “There has to be some financial reason for his being on Bal’demnic — some major deal in the works we might be able to get in on. A construction project, maybe.”

“Let FourDee finish,” Maa Kaap said.

Lah looked at the droid. “Go ahead.”

“It has yet to be determined just what the Muun was involved in. Suppose, however, that the nature of his business is going to impact Bal’demnic in a negative way. Should word spread that the crew of the Woebegone lent their support to the Muun’s illegal departure, then what might become of the ship’s reputation in the Auril sector? You may wish to include the worth of that in your calculations regarding an arrangement for onward passage.”

Maa Kaap folded his arms across his barrel chest. “Is our stowaway going to offer to set each of us up for life, in case our services are no longer wanted in this sector?”

“What about what the Muuns can do to us if we don’t take him,” Zuto said. “They’ve got a reach as long as a galactic arm.”

Wandau laughed without mirth. “What are they going to do — downgrade our portfolios? Freeze our assets? Ruin our credit rating? Our only assets are this ship and our reputation for doing what we say we’re going to do.”

“Mostly,” Maa Kaap said quietly.

PePe slapped his hands on his thighs. “Goes back to what I said about asking for a lot more than what he might see as a fair price. These Banking Clan types hold on to every credit. But we’ve got ourselves a live Muun, and no matter who he is or what he’s pretending to be, I guarantee you he’s worth more than ten years of dealing in meattails and octopods.”

Maa Kaap broke the short silence. “Captain?”

“I’m not swayed by any of this,” she said after a moment. “I want him off our hands.”

A look of puzzlement tugged at Zuto’s features. “You think he’s dangerous?”