“This way, everybody!” cried the excited, slightly high-pitched voice of Olto Gabin. The Xexto was difficult to keep in view as he scuttled through, or under, the crowds in the street. “The tapcafe should be at the end of this street.”
Lina Horada Wessiri grimaced to herself as she felt her boot sink slightly in the churned mud of the ‘street’. Cove Town, the little city built on one of Saulapran’s coasts, was one of the oldest cities on the planet, and the primary export point for its thriving fish market. Unfortunately, the city never saw to upgrading the city from its original construction methods to more modern techniques.
Maybe that’s why they call places like Cove City ‘dirtbound’, she thought, glancing up as one of the repulsorlift-powered ‘helicities’ floated overhead, blocking out the sun as it traversed the sky. The hexagonal platform was lazily floating down its preprogrammed path, skirting around a cloud formation.
The honking cries of a stall owner brought Lina’s attention back to the ground, as she hastily ducked under a pair of hands holding a large fish, narrowly avoiding having the thing slap her in the face.
“Fresh dictori-trout!” the seller shouted. “Right from the valley farms! Ten credits each! A bargain!”
“No, thank you,” Lina said, edging back toward the group. The seller tried to entice the others walking past, but only Wrrlporin, the Wookie in the group, paused to show interest.
“Willpo!” Olto called over his shoulder. “Work first! We’ll have fish dinner tonight!”
Willpo growled a reluctant agreement and turned away from the seller. Lina picked her way along the muddy street to stay with the group, trying to rein in her youthful interest in the crowds. Saulapran was a very minor world in the Mid Rim, offering little for export beyond its fishing industry. Cove City itself had the only spaceport on the ground.
But it’s so busy, Lina thought to herself.
Cove Town was considered small by her ancestral worlds of Corellia and Alderaan, boasting a population of barely one hundred thousand. But the sheer variety of people living in it was staggering. As they walked, Lina could hear the cries, hisses, honks, and susurrus of several dozen languages. She even heard snippets of Bocce, to her surprise. She could see species she had never seen before and could not fathom as to what they were called. It was almost enough to make her look like the wide-eyed sixteen-year-old human that she was, though she tried to hide it behind a façade of blaise acceptance.
“This mud is going to ruin my boots,” Mik Suillacosta grumbled beside her. The Twi’lek stopped to lean against the wooden stud of a market stall to inspect his footwear. His lekku were twitching in mild irritation. “Why couldn’t this job happen when there was no rain in the forecast?”
“Come now, Mik!” Olto said, stopping briefly to look upon his crew members. “We go where and when the work takes us! I heard this job could be our ticket to fixing the ship and finally getting off Saulapran. Doesn’t that entice you?”
“Extremely,” Mik said, scraping caked mud off his boot next to the stall. “I just don’t see why we’re going to a meeting place. We have a cargo hold for this.”
“Nonsense, Mik,” Olto said, dismissively. “It’s time for some of you to get field experience. Now, this is sounding like it’ll be the best job from anyone dirtbound, and it’s not like we can easily get work skybound. It’s supposed to be rather low-key and legal. It’ll give you the experience you need outside the ship and might even score enough credits for us to get the Sidewinder repaired. Would you rather I send you from the ship without any knowledge in a place like Nar Shaddaa?”
“No, Captain,” Mik said reluctantly.
“Good!” Olto said. “We’re here!”
Lina looked up from her path to see a ramshackle building that resembled the rest of Cove City: single-story, squat, built from local resources, with a sign declaring it as the “Last Chance”. It did have a porch and several chairs on it, and a cloth sheet acting as a door for admittance. Lina had to restrain herself from making a comment on time-traveling.
“We’re a civilization that can traverse star systems in hours,” said Mardek Plot’pek, his fur rippling in an amused fashion. Lina was never sure how a Bothan could do that. “But on certain planets, it’s like we’re in a holodrama for outlaws on desert worlds.” A fit of coughing cut off his next remarks.
Willpo rumbled a question at the Bothan.
“Yes, I took my medicine,” Mardek said, slightly annoyed. Olto walked onto the porch and held the door open for everyone to enter.
The interior of the cantina was dark to Lina’s eyes, but at least it was cleaner than the market street. There were several tables scattered through the room, and a bar in the center, manned by an old Weequay who was busying himself with cleaning glasses. He was staring at the large group with some apprehension.
“Last Chance,” muttered Votosh Khall, a Barabel who had joined the crew just before the Sidewinder was grounded on Saulapran. He hissed in amusement. “Very ominous name for starting a job.”
“Seems apt, though,” Mardek agreed. “Plus, it’s the last cantina before the landing pads. Probably a marketing idea.”
Olto was ushering the group toward a table in the far corner of the cantina, rambling out drink orders to the Weequay. Lina spotted a lone human sitting at the table, watching the approaching group with a neutral gaze. He sat with his back rigidly straight, and had his The man was obviously military, but he did not look like an Imperial soldier. Olto grabbed two trays loaded with mugs and placed them on the table.
“Captain Olto, I presume,” said the human to the Xexto, gesturing at the others. “This is the group you’re hiring out?”
“Indeed, Master Taggert,” Olto said. “I’m given to believe that this job is simple, yet will give some of crew the experience they need beyond the confines of the ship.”
“Captain,” chirped a metallic voice. Lina turned to see Beak, the M-3PO droid that accompanied Olto everywhere he went. “Shall I introduce us?”
“No,” Olto said, smiling up at the droid. “That’s unnecessary, Beak. Plus, I feel that Taggert has the same impatience with droids as most people in his line of work.”
Lina saw that Taggert was eyeing the droid and agreed with the captain. Mardek patted Beak on one metal shoulder.
“Very well, sir,” Beak said. “I shall be silent until the conversation is ended.”
“Good call, Beak,” Mardek said. “Can we make that the rule from now on?”
Taggert cleared his throat. “Anyway,” he said, placing a small holoprojector on the table. “The job is pretty simple, but there is a chance of some danger in finishing it.” He pressed the center of the projector, calling up a three-dimensional image of an oblong bit of stone.
“This is the artifact I want found and returned,” Taggert said. “It’s a stone tablet that went missing about eighteen standard years ago. We believe that it was hidden away here on Saulapran. In fact,” he paused to press the projector, changing the image to a group of hills, “we believe we found its precise location: a cave in one of these hills.”
“Then why call for us to hunt it down?” Votosh asked, eyeing the map. “Iz it too dangerous for you and your pack?”
“No, but also yes,” Taggert said, switching the image back to the stone object. “Unfortunately, my people and I cannot go looking for the artifact because we’re under observation by a rival group. If they see us moving toward the artifact, they might attempt to pursue us or sabotage our ship and keep us here. That’s why I’d prefer to hire the job out to locals or spacers.”
Willpo growled several questions, but Taggert did not seem to understand the Wookie. Neither could Lina, but she felt like she was slowly learning the language.
Mardek nodded at the Wookie. “What I was thinking,” he said, looking back at Taggert. “Are you personally being observed right now? If we’re seen leaving to handle this job, wouldn’t your observers just follow us?”
“For the moment, I don’t believe I am being observed by my rivals,” Taggert said. “I managed to lose the man tailing me before arriving here, and that was over an hour ago. I’ll stay in here until the job is done, so he won’t think to follow you when you leave.”
Willpo tilted his head, thinking it over, nodding when he agreed.
“Can you give us any details on your rivals, so we’d know if we were also being tailed?” Mardek asked, the question ending on a short cough.
“Not really, sadly,” Taggert said. “We’ve been trying to pin them down, but so far we have only identified two people, one of whom was trying to follow me today. Part of the reason why I’m offering such a good payment to you is that we’re dealing with so many unknown details.”
Olto began questioning Taggert about the risks, while Lina peered at the artifact. It looked like it would be under half a meter in thickness if the scaling was correct in the projector. It would be a little over thirty centimeters long, so while not overly large, it would be a heavy object. She noticed that one side of the tablet had deep markings on it, dashes and dents in the stone that made a familiar image. In fact, it looked like an archaic star-map with only the ending coordinates.
The conversation drew Lina’s attention back to the present. “There may be some physical risks involved,” Taggert was saying. “The location is well away from the towns and fish farms, but you never know if locals are out there looking to attack travelers. Plus, we’re not sure if whoever had hidden this item away had left any traps or safeguards behind. Then there is the chance for wild animals.”
Votosh let out a low hiss and smiled. Lina fought the urge to take a step back. “Good,” he said. “This one has not been hunting for weeks. Wild animals would be fun.”
Mardek grinned at the Barabel but kept his attention on Taggert. “If I may ask,” he said, “what’s so special about this thing?” He gestured at the image. “Is it dangerous?”
“Not dangerous,” Taggert said dismissively, “but it has some mathematical significance to my people if the markings are to be believed.”
“This one does not believe he haz the look of a mathematician,” Votosh said, eyeing Taggert.
“Oh, I’m not,” Taggert said with a slight smile. “I’m just a field agent. But there are mathematicians among my people.”
Lina leaned slightly to her left to bring herself closer to Mardek. “It looks like an old star chart,” she whispered. “Hyperspace coordinates.”
Mardeks’ fur rippled slightly but kept it to a minimum. “A treasure map?” he whispered back. Lina shrugged, unable to guess.
“According to my observation,” Beak started saying, “I believe that the artifact holds navigational data of some kind. In fact, it looks like it holds the end coordin-,”
Votosh reached over and placed a hand on the droids’ chest, hissing at it in his own language.
“Well, I say,” Beak said, his mechanical tone miffed. “There’s no need for such rudeness.”
Taggert was looking back and forth between the two. “What did he say?” he asked, pointing at Votosh. He had not been paying attention to the droid earlier.
“’Remember your commands,’” Beak answered, “’and shut it.’”
Taggert looked at the group with mild confusion but seemed to accept the strangeness of spacers and continued.
“As for the payment,” he said, looking at Olto, “I’m willing to offer twenty thousand.”
Before anyone could speak, the Xexto reached out with all four arms, indicating that the group stay quiet.
“You wish to pay us twenty thousand,” he said slowly, “to retrieve a rock? That’s…”
Lina was going to say ‘suspicious’, but Olto surprised her.
“That’s very good!” he finished, suddenly excited. “That’s a perfectly acceptable amount!” He looked back at everyone. “Don’t you believe so?”
The group, sensing Olto’s unspoken command, nodded reluctantly. The Xexto turned back to Taggert. “We accept!” he said. “Where would you like it delivered?”
Taggert indicated the bar with his chin. “Just leave it here with the Weequay if I’m not here,” he said. “I’ve already set things up with him.”
“You’re sure about the delivery?” Votosh asked.
“And the location?” Lina added. “If I’m flying us there, I want to be sure of where we’re going.”
“I’ll have the area pinged on your map,” Taggert said, looking at Lina. “I’m not precisely sure where the cave is among those hills, but you’ll be near enough to it to find it.” He turned to the Barabel. “And yes, my drop-off spot is good. You can trust the barman; he’s been well paid for his discretion.”
Olto clapped all four hands, a common action of his to show readiness. “Splendid! We’ll finalize some details on our end, and we’ll get you this stone tablet.”
Taggert nodded at the Xexto but did not rise from his seat. Lina and the others began filing out of the cantina, discussing how they would prefer to approach the cave. Olto tugged on Lina’s sleeve to get her attention.
“You’ll be taking the Myatil shuttle,” Olto said, his voice cheerful, if stern. He normally kept that tone for when he wanted to make sure everyone taller than him would be paying attention. “I’ve commed the cargo bay crew to have it readied, so you’ll have three hours before launch. I’m assigning Beak to you, as well. He needs a clear line of command. Do you need anything else?”
“No, sir,” Lina said, holding back the jittery excitement. For the last six months, the only piloting work she could take was basically shuttle-work. Ferrying people and cargo from the ground to a passing helicity might be steady work, but hardly exciting. Finally, she was taking a field group on a job.
“And ready your own gear,” Olto said, waving a dismissive hand. “I don’t think there’ll be much trouble, so you’ll be going with the group.”
Lina stopped walking. “What?” she asked.
***
From a great distance away from the town where the negotiations were being held, Field Commander Senata 7 sat on a crate in his camp, listening intently to his own comm. Around him, his team were busying themselves with the tasks of the mission, checking over the equipment or their weapons and armor. Senata 7 ignored them for the most part, letting his eyes settle on the reflective panel of the communications equipment. He disapproved of physical vanity, but Senata 7 did enjoy the fact that he, unlike the rest of his species, looked different enough to be recognizable among his kind. It was a rare genetic oddity from the Senata line that atop their heads, the orb-like growths that normally covered the entire scalp were absent, but for distinct lines that formed ridges. Among Khommites, such an oddity was a sign of high intellect and great potential. The Senata line was famous for their tactical abilities, and all but one of the line had proven this potential.
Senata 6 failed when he attempted this task eighteen years ago, Senata 7 thought bitterly. But I will succeed, and I will redeem our line in the eyes of the General.
Senata 7 knew enough of the history to piece everything together. Whatever was hidden in these hills, the General believed it would be the key to perfecting the Spaarti cloning procedure and make truly perfect soldiers. Eighteen years ago, several teams were sent out to various worlds along the Corellian Trade Spine, hoping to find the location of whatever it was that the General wanted found. The General did tell him that this was most likely where his predecessor died during a mission, and that was the reason his line was held in quiet contempt.
Why didn’t the General follow up on that mission? Senata 7 asked himself. This question had been a regular bit of mental exercise for the clone commander ever since he was decanted and begun training for the General. It always ended the same, however: the General had not felt ready to go up against his opponent in this private war until now, and Senata 7 was being set up for failure. The General had already stated that he was considering ending the Senata line after Senata 7. The placement of ‘under-grown troops’ within his command was a tacit statement that the General did not think highly of his command potential. If he ended up being a repeat of Senata 6 and failed, better to have him fail with non-essential troops.
“Commander,” one of his soldiers said. Senata 7 looked up to see one of the human templates approaching the crate seat. “We’re having trouble with getting our signal out to the Gentle Reproof.”
Senata 7 grimaced at the report. “It can’t be helped, Dorant,” he said. He was not sure which number was attached to this particular clone, and traditions on his home planet forbade him from using the wrong number to a given clone. “We haven’t been able to attach our pirate signal to the local satellites, and by this point it’s immaterial. We will report personally when we have something to say. Otherwise, we will have to use the relay team.”
“Yes, Commander,” Dorant said. “Should I have Korsk 3 and Inota Prime move to their next task?”
“See to it,” Senata 7 said, nodding. “I want our scanning equipment ready for work before that mercenary group is airborne. They’ll be easy to take care of, but the longer we stay groundside, the better the chances we’ll be spotted.”
The clone nodded, saluted, and went about his new tasks. Senata 7 looked around the camp, calculating. They had managed to narrow the search for the artifact to this mountain range, but there were so many caves and tunnels within them, they would be searching for the entrance for months. How the General managed to learn that someone was also looking into the rumors, let alone that they would prefer hiring a mercenary group to handle retrieval, he was not sure.
The commlink in his hand began beeping, and Senata 7 was quick in answering. “This is the Commander,” he said. “Report.”
“Commander, this is Fress 5,” came the reply. “We’re tracking the outbound shuttle. Their flight path looks to put it within half a kilometer from our recon base.”
“Splendid,” Senata 7 said, smiling tightly. It had been difficult to narrow down the possible areas to search, but it looks like his intuition had paid off. “Stay out of their sensor range. We want them to land and make first contact.”
“Yes sir,” Fress 5 said, and the connection shut off.
Senata 7 looked at the nearby hills in grim satisfaction. His predecessor had failed in his mission because he had not thought out all possible outcomes in searching for this item. This time, he would let the mercenaries trigger any traps that lay in wait and follow soon after. Better to let the scum of the fringe handle the loss of life that would undoubtedly come than to lose his troops, then take care of any survivors.
Still smiling, Senata 7 rose from his seat to check on the scanning equipment and make ready for his grand strategy’s conclusion. ***
Swift's Corner 