verification of ship registration, and a host of forms and permits to be filled out before the port authority would clear a vessel, its contents, or its passengers. This frequently involved a thorough inspection of the ship’s interior by customs personnel, with the official explanation being increased planetary security. However, everyone knew inspections were actually meant to discourage merchants from trying to transport undeclared merchandise in the hope of avoiding interstellar taxes and tariffs.
Fortunately, Zannah didn’t have to worry about any of that. She simply signed the departure form and handed it back to Chet. One of the chief benefits of maintaining a private hangar at the port was the ability to come and go at will. In exchange for their substantial monthly hangar fees, the government kept its nose out of her and Bane’s business … a bargain at nearly any price as far as she was concerned.
“You’ll be taking your private shuttle, I assume.”
“That’s right,” she replied. “The Victory over in hangar thirteen.”
“I’ll alert the control tower.”
Chet gave a curt nod to the porter, who headed off with the hoversled in the direction of the hangar.
“Just a moment,” the customs official said softly to Zannah, causing her to hang back.
“Heard some news I thought you might be interested in,” he continued once the porter had disappeared aroundthe corner. “Argel Tenn touched down a few days ago to meet with your brother.”
Zannah had never met Argel, but she knew who he was and what he did. Over the past few years she had slowly been gathering information on all the members in Darth Bane’s network of contacts; they could prove useful to her once she took over the Sith. She didn’t know if Argel’s arrival was relevant or not: Bane was always looking to acquire rare Sith manuscripts, and it could just be a coincidence. Nevertheless, she filed the knowledge away in case it should ever prove handy.
“Thanks for the update,” she said, slipping Chet a fifty-credit chip before heading off toward her private hangar.
The porter was already there, waiting with her bags by the shuttle. Zannah punched in the security code, causing the boarding ramp to lower.
“Put everything in the back,” she instructed, smiling and handing the porter a ten-credit chip.
“Right away, mistress,” he replied, the tip disappearing instantly into a pocket somewhere on his uniform as he hustled to load her baggage.
Zannah kept the smile plastered on her face while he worked. She made a point of being friendly with everyone at the spaceport. She saw it as an investment in the future—the cultivation of a potential resource. The members of the Senate and other powerful individuals might shape galactic policy, but it was the bureaucrats, government officials, and various other low-level political functionaries who actually made things run … and they were so much easier to deal with than the political elite. A few kind words and a handful of small bribes, and Zannah could get anything she needed without attracting unwanted attention. Just as she had done with Chet.
This was one advantage she had over Bane. She knew she was attractive. Men in particular were drawn to herbecause of her looks; they wanted to help her, to please her. Zannah wasn’t above encouraging them with a soft laugh or a subtle touch—it was a small price to pay to establish a relationship that might eventually prove useful. Her Master’s appearance, on the other hand, would never inspire anything but fear in those who didn’t know him.
Only once the porter was gone and she was alone in the cockpit of the vessel did she let the façade drop. Settling into the custom-molded seat, she punched in the navigation coordinates. Through the cockpit viewport she could see the Triumph , Bane’s personal shuttle, in the adjacent hangar.
Like her own, it was a Cygnus Spaceworks Theta- class T-1 vessel: the latest, and most
Fortunately, Zannah didn’t have to worry about any of that. She simply signed the departure form and handed it back to Chet. One of the chief benefits of maintaining a private hangar at the port was the ability to come and go at will. In exchange for their substantial monthly hangar fees, the government kept its nose out of her and Bane’s business … a bargain at nearly any price as far as she was concerned.
“You’ll be taking your private shuttle, I assume.”
“That’s right,” she replied. “The Victory over in hangar thirteen.”
“I’ll alert the control tower.”
Chet gave a curt nod to the porter, who headed off with the hoversled in the direction of the hangar.
“Just a moment,” the customs official said softly to Zannah, causing her to hang back.
“Heard some news I thought you might be interested in,” he continued once the porter had disappeared aroundthe corner. “Argel Tenn touched down a few days ago to meet with your brother.”
Zannah had never met Argel, but she knew who he was and what he did. Over the past few years she had slowly been gathering information on all the members in Darth Bane’s network of contacts; they could prove useful to her once she took over the Sith. She didn’t know if Argel’s arrival was relevant or not: Bane was always looking to acquire rare Sith manuscripts, and it could just be a coincidence. Nevertheless, she filed the knowledge away in case it should ever prove handy.
“Thanks for the update,” she said, slipping Chet a fifty-credit chip before heading off toward her private hangar.
The porter was already there, waiting with her bags by the shuttle. Zannah punched in the security code, causing the boarding ramp to lower.
“Put everything in the back,” she instructed, smiling and handing the porter a ten-credit chip.
“Right away, mistress,” he replied, the tip disappearing instantly into a pocket somewhere on his uniform as he hustled to load her baggage.
Zannah kept the smile plastered on her face while he worked. She made a point of being friendly with everyone at the spaceport. She saw it as an investment in the future—the cultivation of a potential resource. The members of the Senate and other powerful individuals might shape galactic policy, but it was the bureaucrats, government officials, and various other low-level political functionaries who actually made things run … and they were so much easier to deal with than the political elite. A few kind words and a handful of small bribes, and Zannah could get anything she needed without attracting unwanted attention. Just as she had done with Chet.
This was one advantage she had over Bane. She knew she was attractive. Men in particular were drawn to herbecause of her looks; they wanted to help her, to please her. Zannah wasn’t above encouraging them with a soft laugh or a subtle touch—it was a small price to pay to establish a relationship that might eventually prove useful. Her Master’s appearance, on the other hand, would never inspire anything but fear in those who didn’t know him.
Only once the porter was gone and she was alone in the cockpit of the vessel did she let the façade drop. Settling into the custom-molded seat, she punched in the navigation coordinates. Through the cockpit viewport she could see the Triumph , Bane’s personal shuttle, in the adjacent hangar.
Like her own, it was a Cygnus Spaceworks Theta- class T-1 vessel: the latest, and most
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