"JAMES LUCENO. SABOTEUR" - читать интересную книгу автора

said. "Right now they're buried under about five meters of dust."
"Well, get on it. I want you to devote all your resources to rooting out the
saboteurs responsible for this. Do you think you can do that, Bruit, or do I
have to bring in specialists?"
"They won't be able to learn any more than I have," Bruit rejoined.
"InterGalactic Ore is becoming as desperate as LL is successful. Besides, it's
not just a matter of industrial rivalry. A lot of the families that work for
InterGal have vendettas with some of the families we employ. At least two of
these recent incidents have been motivated by personal grudges."
"What are you suggesting, Bruit, that I terminate everyone and ship in ten
thousand miners from Fondor? What's that going to do to production? More
important, what's that going to do to my reputation on Dorvalla?"
Bruit shrugged. "I don't have any answers for you. Maybe it's time you brought
this to the attention of the Galactic Senate."
Arrant stared at him. "Bring this to Coruscant? We're not in the midst of an
interstellar conflict, Bruit. This is corporate warfare, and I've been in the
trenches long enough to know that it's best to resolve these conflicts on your
own. What's more, I don't want the senate involved. It will come down to a
contest between Lommite Limited and InterGalactic, as to who can offer the most
bribes to the most senators." He shook his head angrily. "That'll bankrupt us
quicker than this continued sabotage."
Bruit had his mouth open to reply when a tone sounded from Arrant's intercom,
and the voice of his protocol droid secretary issued from the annunciator.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but you have a priority holotransmission from a
Neimoidian, Hath Monchar."
Arrant's fine brows beetled. "Monchar? I don't know the name. But go ahead, put
him through."
From a holoprojector disk set into the floor at the center of the office rose
the life-size holopresence of a red-orbed, pale-green Neimoidian draped in rich
robes and wearing a black headpiece that aspired to be a crown.
"I greet you in the name of the Trade Federation, Jurnel Arrant," Hath Monchar
began. "Viceroy Nute Gunray conveys his warmest regards, and wishes you to know
that the Trade Federation was sorry to learn of your latest setback."
Arrant scowled. "How is it that whenever tragedy strikes, the first ones I hear
from are the Neimoidians?"
"We are a compassionate species," Monchar said, his heavily accented Basic
elongating the words.
"Compassionate and Neimoidian don't belong in the same sentence, Monchar. And
just how did you come to hear of our 'setback,' as you call it? Or was it that
the Trade Federation had a hand in the matter?"
The nictitating membranes of Monchar's red eyes began to spasm. "The Trade
Federation would never do anything to impair relations with a potential
partner."
"Partner?" Arrant laughed ruefully. "At least have the decency to speak the
truth, Monchar. You want our trade routes. I don't know how much you had to pay
the Galactic Senate to obtain a franchise to operate with impunity in the free
trade zones, but you're not going to buy your way into the Videnda sector."
"But you could ship ten times as much lommite ore inside one of our freighters
as you can in twenty of your largest barges."
"Granted. But at what price? Before long it would cost us more to ship with you