Allegiance by Timothy Zahn Read Free Book Online

the ship’s current heading and overall flight status, and even a small private refresher station.
    “Nice,” Quiller commented, looking around approvingly. “This one must be the pilot’s.”
    “It’s mine, actually,” Grave told him. “But don’t worry—they’re all like this.”
    “And if you think
this
is nice, hang on to your bucket,” Brightwater added. Stepping to the repeater display, he ran his finger along the underside of the frame. With a quiet
snick
, a section of the bulkhead at the end of the bed popped ajar, and Brightwater swung it open to reveal a hidden walk-in closet.
    Or rather, a hidden walk-in arsenal.
    There were a dozen blasters racked together on one sidewall, everything from fleet-issue BlasTech DH-17 pistols to standard stormtrooper E-11 rifles to a pair of hold-out blasters of a make and model LaRone didn’t recognize. Beneath the racked weapons were rows of power packs and gas cartridges, plus several small binsof assorted replacement parts. On the other sidewall was one of Grave’s favored T-28 sniper rifles plus a selection of vibroblades, grenades, stun cuffs, and a couple of Arakyd hunter/seeker remotes.
    And filling the center of the space were two complete sets of gleaming stormtrooper armor.
    “The number one cabin’s got a slightly different selection,” Grave said into the stunned silence. “We haven’t checked the others yet, but it’s a fair bet they’re all tricked out the same way.”
    “There are two Aratech 74-Z speeder bikes in one of the cargo holds, so I figure one of the cabins must have a set or two of scout trooper armor,” Brightwater added. “
That
one will be mine.”
    “These guys sure came prepared,” Marcross commented. “I don’t suppose they also happened to leave some cash lying around?”
    “If they didn’t, we can always rob a bank,” Quiller put in drily, gesturing at the weaponry.
    “We haven’t found any credits yet,” Brightwater told Marcross. “On the other hand, it was pure dumb luck that we found
this
. We were looking for stowaways, not buried treasure.”
    “I think we should remedy that,” Marcross suggested.
    “Absolutely,” LaRone agreed. “We’ve got three hours to planetfall, stormtroopers. Spread out and let’s see what else the ISB was kind enough to put aboard our new ship.”
    The final tally was impressive. There were fifteen sets of stormtrooper armor—eight standard, six specialized, and a full spacetrooper rig; fifty blasters of various sorts; a hundred grenades, including shock and explosive and even a pair of thermal detonators; thirty-five changes of civilian clothing; two landspeeders; two speeder bikes; a three-seat, six-passenger speeder truck; and numerousbits of tracking, combat, and detention gear, including a small machine for turning out personal identity tags. There was also the rack of false ship transponder codes Quiller had predicted.
    And there was cash. More than half a million credits.
    “What in the worlds were they planning that they needed all this?” Brightwater muttered as they sat in the lounge comparing their lists.
    “My guess is that they’re going for a jab at the Rebellion’s throat,” Marcross said. “Disguised freighters would be perfect for infiltrating enemy supply convoys.”
    “Or for posing as renegades who want to join up,” LaRone said.
    “Well, whatever they had in mind, it sure puts us in a good position,” Grave said. “So where exactly on the Outer Rim are we heading?”
    “We could try Hutt space,” Quiller suggested. “The Empire keeps a pretty low profile there, and we could easily pick up a little enforcer or bodyguard work.”
    “We’re not working for criminals,” Brightwater said stiffly.
    “I just meant—”
    “No, he’s right,” LaRone seconded. “We’re Imperial stormtroopers, not thugs for hire.”
    “We’re not Imperial stormtroopers anymore,” Quiller muttered, tossing his datapad onto the hologame table.
    “We’re