Thrawn (Star Wars: Thrawn, #1)

“Yes,” Renking said. “Where does that hallway lead?”

“To the central office cluster,” Arihnda said. “Her desk is in there, from which she can access the entire inventory system. Oh, and a fresh order of digging heads had just come in, with the funds slated to go out the next morning. A perfect time for her to act.”

“Also a perfect time for a drinking partygoer to go to the restroom,” Renking pointed out. “What makes you think that’s not what she’s doing?”

“Because she leaves three more times in the next two hours and is gone at least ten minutes each time,” Arihnda said.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because that’s how financial transactions work here,” Arihnda said. “I don’t know how it is on Coruscant, but on Lothal secure fund-shifting usually requires two or three touchpoints, and the authorization codes sometimes bounce back and forth over an hour or more.”

Renking grunted. “Pretty inefficient.”

“Extremely inefficient,” Arihnda agreed sourly. It was yet another part of Lothal’s quaint approach to life that she found infuriating. “But we’re stuck with it. The banks and supply houses all have their own ways of doing things, and none of them like turning everything over to computers or droids. Everyone wants to have a personal touch in big transactions.”

“Yes, that does sound like Lothal,” Renking conceded. He poised a finger over the datapad. “May I?”

“Certainly.”

He tapped the datapad to fast-forward the recording. As far as Arihnda could tell, he had no suspicions that what she’d told him was anything but the truth.

And it was, really…except that Arihnda remembered her mother mentioning earlier that day how Pomi Harchmak had been having digestive problems. Which meant all those disappearances almost certainly were to the restroom.

Maybe Harchmak was innocent. Maybe there were no missing funds, and Uvis was simply making a bald-faced play for control. Or maybe the stomach thing had been a deception and excuse and Harchmak was genuinely guilty.

Arihnda didn’t know. She also didn’t care. All she cared about was drawing enough suspicion off her mother to persuade Renking to intervene. Once he did, Harchmak’s guilt or innocence was her own problem.

“May I make a copy of all this?” Renking asked.

“Actually, I already made you one,” Arihnda said, pulling a datacard from her pocket and placing it on the desk.

He smiled wryly as he picked it up. “Rather sure of ourselves, are we?”

“Just the opposite,” Arihnda said. “If I couldn’t get you to see me in person, I thought you might at least look at the evidence I’d compiled.”

“I’m glad I decided to take the time,” Renking said. “Give me a moment.”

He finished watching the security recording, then silently pushed the datapad back across the desk to Arihnda and turned to his computer. For the next few minutes he worked the keys, gazing at the display. Arihnda remained where she was, trying without success to read his expression.

Finally, he hit one last key and turned back to face her. “Here’s the situation,” he said, his voice grave. “First: As matters stand, I can’t lift the embezzlement charge.”

Arihnda stared at him. That wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting. “What about Harchmak? I just showed you there’s another suspect who’s at least as viable as my mother.”

“Oh, she’s viable, all right,” Renking agreed. “And I have no doubt she’ll be detained as soon as I pass this on to the police. But without proof of your mother’s innocence, Governor Azadi isn’t going to release her.”

“Can we at least get her out on bail?”

“You really don’t understand what this is about?” Renking asked, giving her an odd look. “This is Azadi’s attempt to take over Pryce Mining.”

“Azadi’s, or Uvis’s?”

“Does it matter?”

“Probably not,” Arihnda conceded. “That’s why I came to you instead of pleading my case to him. I hoped that if I gave you enough ammunition you could stop him. Now you’re telling me you can’t?”

Renking raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think I want to stop him?” he asked. “What makes you think I’m not part of his plan?”

Arihnda pursed her lips. What did make her think that? “Because if you were part of the plot, you wouldn’t have told me about it. You’d have kept quiet, or encouraged me to make a deal to sell out.”

“Very good,” Renking said, favoring her with a small smile. “You’re right, there is a certain…rivalry between the governor and me. And there is a way I can help your mother. But I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“I’m listening.”

“I can get the charges dropped,” Renking said.

“Sounds good so far,” Arihnda said. “What about the company?”

“That’s the part you won’t like,” Renking said. “You’ll have to sign the mine over to the Empire.”

Arihnda had suspected something like that was coming. Even so, the words were like a punch in the gut. “The Empire.”

Renking held out his hands, palms upward. “You’re going to lose the mine, Arihnda,” he said. “Either to Azadi, or to the Empire.”

“Because of the doonium.”

“Basically,” Renking said. “Bear in mind that Coruscant can take it by fiat, with no compensation at all. Right now they’d prefer to play nice in this part of the Outer Rim, but that restraint won’t last forever. This way, at least, you’ll get your mother out and new jobs for your family.”

Arihnda shook her head. “I don’t think they’d want to work the mine for someone else.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about keeping them here,” Renking assured her. “Not at Pryce Mining or anywhere else on Lothal. Governor Azadi is a vindictive man, and as long as they’re in his jurisdiction he might be tempted to mess with them out of pure spite. Fortunately, there’s a mine I know on Batonn that needs an assistant manager and an experienced foreman. I already have an offer.”

Arihnda smiled tightly. “The two hours you kept me waiting outside.”

Renking shrugged. “That, and other things. Unfortunately, there’s no datawork position for you at the moment, but the owner says he can put you on inventory until something better opens up.”

“I see,” Arihnda said, watching him closely. Lothal was awash with petty politics, and over the years she’d learned how to navigate them. If the same rules applied to the Imperial version…“I suppose I could just stay here on Lothal until then.”

“I wouldn’t advise that,” Renking said quickly. “Not with Azadi unhappy with you.”

“Unhappy with me?”

Renking’s lip twitched in a small smile. “Unhappy with me, then,” he conceded.

“He probably wouldn’t hesitate to try squeezing me, either,” Arihnda said slowly, as if she were just now working it out. “That wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

“Hardly,” Renking said, a mixture of amusement and resignation on his face. “Let’s skip to the last page. What exactly do you want?”

“I want to go to Coruscant,” Arihnda said. “You must have a hundred good assistant positions you can offer. I want one of them.”

“In exchange for what?” Renking asked. “Favors have to work both ways.”

“In exchange for not making trouble when the Empire takes over Pryce Mining,” Arihnda said. “Maybe you’ve forgotten what people are like here, but they won’t be happy about a bald-faced takeover.”

“Oh, I remember just fine,” Renking assured her. “Why do you think I’m taking this approach instead of just letting the Empire move in directly and cut Azadi off at the knees? Lothal’s like every other frontier planet in the Outer Rim: unruly and a potential pain in the rear.”

“But a new doonium vein is worth the trouble?”

“It’s worth a lot of trouble.” Renking took a deep breath, eyeing Arihnda closely. “All right. As it happens, I do have a job on Coruscant I can offer you. There’s an opening in one of my citizen assistance offices.”

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