the various poles of the planetary shield.
'Right,' Navett said, his heart starting to beat faster as he stepped over to the console. This was it: the first blade thrust into the heart of the species whose actions had cost the Empire so much over the years. The Bothan techs had already removed the access panels; shifting his grip subtly on the sprayer as he crouched down, Navett eased the tip into the maze of electronics and gave it a delicate squirt. Only this time he left more than just the metalmite-killing CorTrehan to bead up on the circuit cards and drip slowly down onto the power supplies and ventilation fan casings below. This time, his new grip had allowed the slender tank built into the sprayer handle to dribble some of its own special contents into the mix.
The hour-long examination the Bothans had put their equipment through had scanned for everything those paranoid minds could have thought of: weapons, spy equipment, explosives, poisons, soporifics, acids, wire-spinners, and probably fifty other potential threats. But nowhere in all those multiple layers of precautions had anyone thought to program a check for food.
Not that anyone in the generator building would have found this particular brew even remotely appetizing, not even the metalmites. In fact, now that the rotten little vermin had played their part, it was time for them to die.
He and Klif spent the next two hours moving systematically through the complex, laying down their poison trails and, at perhaps twenty carefully selected points, adding in a squirt of their liquid nutrient. By the time they finished, the thick, sweet-sour smell of the CorTrehan was almost like a physical barrier that had to be pushed aside as they walked through it.
'Okay,' Navett said cheerfully as they were finally escorted back into the security entrance area.
'First step's done. Now all you gotta do is put a loudspeaker on that's blasting out the broods'
different carrier pitches. That keeps 'em from talking back and forth inside their groups, and
'Yes,' Tri'byia said, looking marginally less unhappy now that the offworlders were no longer in direct contact with his precious machinery. 'How long will this be necessary?'
'Oh, a week ought to do it,' Navett said. 'Eight or nine days just to be on the safe side. Some broods are harder to kill than others. Don't worry, though—they won't be eating anything during any of that. Mostly, they'll just be dying.'
'Very well,' Tri'byia agreed reluctantly. 'I have only one more question, then. I am told these pests are quite rare. How is it they were able to find their way in here?' Navett shrugged as casually as he could. The groundwork had been laid, but that didn't mean they were out of the snake pit yet. If the Bothans decided to be suspicious enough to go back in and clean out everything he and Klif had just laid down, this whole setup would have been for nothing. 'You got me,' he said. 'You bring any new equipment in here in the past week or two?' The Bothan's fur rippled uncertainly. 'There were two pieces of equipment that arrived seven days ago. But both were scanned thoroughly before they were brought in.'
'Yeah, but I'll bet your scanners aren't programmed for heavily metal-based life like these things,' Navett pointed out. It was a safe bet; certainly the Bothans' scanners hadn't spotted the little beasts riding in on their incoming techs' clothing. 'Tell you the truth, I don't know if anyone really knows where they come from or how they get around. They just pop up now and then and make trouble. They probably came in with that equipment, though. You might want to catch a couple of 'em and use
'em to reprogram your scanners so they can't make any more trouble.'
'Thank you,' Tri'byia said, a bit huffily. Apparently, Bothans of his stature were not used to having the obvious pointed out to them.
'No problem,' Navett said cheerfully. Earnest but stupid, he was the type to take everything at full face value, without noticing any undertones. 'Glad we could help. And you'll get that merchant's license for us, right?'
'I will do what I can to help with it,' Tri'byia said.
Which was, Navett noticed, not precisely what he'd originally promised. But that was all right. In six days, if all went according to plan, Tri'byia would cease to exist, along with the city of Drev'starn and as much of the rest of Bothawui as the Imperial Star Destroyers hidden out there could manage. And on that day, Navett planned to look down on the shattered world from one of those Star Destroyers and laugh. But for now, all he needed to do was smile. 'Great,' he said cheerfully.
'Thanks a lot. And if you guys ever need anything else, just give us a call.' He and Klif didn't say anything to each other on the ride back to the pet shop. Nor did they speak once they were there, at least not about anything of substance, until they'd gone over each other thoroughly with the spy-mike detector hidden in the bottom of the dopplefly cage. But if Tri'byia didn't especially like them, he apparently wasn't overly suspicious of them, either. The spy scan came up clean.
'Sloppy,' Klif grunted as they returned the detector back to its hiding place. 'You'd think they'd at least want to hear us slapping each other on the back about getting our license so cheap.'
'I'm sure they backchecked our records before they called us in,' Navett said, sniffing in disgust as he slapped at his shirt. That blasted CorTrehan stuck to everything. 'Did you get a chance to see where our power conduit came into the building? I never got to that side of the building.'
