Star Wars: Scourge by Jeff Grubb Page A

one wall and a table and chairs more suitable for hominids in the center. Tasteful but opulent statues stood in niches along one wall. Reen examined one made of a rose-colored mineral depicting an incongruous Hutt emerging from a sweeping fountain of water. Reen reached out to touch a finger to the delicately carved foam.
    Vago, behind them, spat out a string of Huttese. The slightly dented green H-3PO unit trailed after her like a moon in the Hutt’s tidal wake. The droid said, “That statue was presented to mighty Popara to commemorate the successful birth of his youngest child Mika. It is carved of a single emradite crystal. Such statuary would often be protected by virulent contact poisons, but that one has been detoxified.” Despite the nontoxic assurance, Reen pulled back her hand.
    Vago ignored her and moved over to the table, toggling a switch. A holodisplay illuminated the schematics of a ship in the center of the table. It was shaped like a blunted arrowhead.
    “This vessel is waiting at landing pad X-13 on Makem Te,” said Vago through the droid. “It is being loaded as we speak.”
    Reen’s attention was on the ship at once, the statue now forgotten. “That’s a Suwantek TL-1200 freighter,” she said. “Dependable model, easily modded and customized. Can be handled solo, but flies better with a crew. Two quad laser turrets. No custom work that I can see. Bit dinged up. It will do.” She nodded her approval to Mander.
    “Better condition than our last ship,” muttered Eddey, punching up a detailed schematic.
    Vago ignored both of them and handed Mander a datapad. The droid translated. “The medicinal spice will be loaded into the aft compartments. We don’t know the specific details of the plague itself, so the spice is a broadband antisporant and pain suppressor.”
    Reen’s head popped up from checking the ship’s stats. Mander saw her jaw tighten slightly as she asked, “Does All-Wise Popara do a lot of trade in spice?”
    Vago looked over her data goggles at the Pantoran, then shrugged. The droid translated without comment. “Some. Mostly medicinal. This is not the first time Great Popara has directed spice to handle a crisis. He also ships glitterstim when he chooses to speculate on the market.”
    “Nothing … worse?” said Reen. She tried to keep the words light, but Mander could see the shadow of a disapproving frown.
    The Hutt factotum’s eyes narrowed, and the droid hesitated before translating. “No. Benevolent Popara chooses not to deal in slaves or in hard spices. He sees that there is enough misery in the galaxy without adding to it, and enough opportunity that he may gain wealth without contributing to that misery.”
    “Regardless,” said Mander, “I think we should checkthe cargo before we get to Endregaad. It would be embarrassing to be found running contraband. The CSA in particular takes a dim view of spice smugglers.”
    Vago made a chuffing noise. “Understood,” said the droid, taking the datapad from the Jedi. It handed the ’pad to Vago, who punched a few more buttons and handed it back. “This clears you to access the crates, and allows you to determine that they are what we claim them to be.”
    “I am sorry if I sound untrusting,” said Mander.
    Vago’s face was a blank, offering no more clue to her thoughts than the droid translator. “Not at all. Hutts have a … shall we say, reputation … in such things. One assumes that all Hutts are criminals, just as all Bothans are spies.” Despite himself, Mander shot a glance at Eddey, who was poring over the ship schematics and paying no apparent attention to any of them. Reen had joined him in investigating the plans.
    “Wise Popara is no fool,” Vago continued through the droid. “He has survived clan wars and assassination attempts, and has found a position of strength in honesty. That is one reason to deal with the Jedi. Your Order does not leap to conclusions quite as rapidly as