GEN
Presents:
Smugglers
Blues
By
Admiral Kyle Kessler
I'm
pretty happy with how this one turned out. I'd rate it up there with "A
Conflict of Loyalties" as my best yet. Of course, how much you're going
to enjoy it is another matter entirely! It's an attempt to go back to the time
when Kessler first met Kerrigan, and gives a little more insight into Kerrigan's
devious nature. He seems to be a popular character, I may write a story exclusively
about him soon. This one is a prequel to "A Conflict of Loyalties"
and should really be read after you've read the that. This one also won the
Training Office Contest #4's Fiction Division
Prologue
Artuk raised
a grime-stained hand to wipe the accumulation of sweat from his eyes and surveyed
the perimeter of the mining camp in the glen below the bluff. The outworlders
were clearly visible despite the late hour, their camp brightly illuminated
by powerful lamps. He counted several dozen outworlder workers, occupied with
their strange machinery. None appeared to be watching the forest for danger,
although a handful were wearing the outworlders powerful weapons on their
belts. These ones would have to be dealt with first.
He loosened his brown woollen cloak and slipped a hand down to his belt for
the long knife he kept secured there. Freeing it from the confines of its oiled
snakeskin scabbard, he kissed the blade and whispered a brief prayer to Mortu.
Once properly sanctified, he laid it to rest on the mossy rocks before his prone
body, and stretched out his arm to take up his crossbow. Raising himself into
a sitting position, he selected a bolt from his leather quiver and slotted it
into place quietly. Looking over to Cormacs position, he saw his fellow
warriors signal that all was ready. He nodded, a grim smile of satisfaction
playing across his lips. Tonights battle would be immortalised in song
by the bards. Tonight, for the first time, the Sons of Caradoc would strike
back at the outworlders who had come to rape and defile his homeland. There
would be many fresh notches to carve on the bone handles of his blades tonight,
many fresh souls to ride the trails of smoke to Mortus paradise. Taking
a careful aim at the nearest target, he waited patiently for the signal.
Parner
Drell was beginning to wonder if they were ever going to get this operation
on schedule. So far the mining rig had succumbed to countless minor problems
and getting spare parts out to this forsaken region was damned difficult. There
were personnel problems too. His engineers were coping with the job easily,
they were used to working in far worse conditions, but the half-dozen hired
guards that InGen Corporation Security Division had supplied were, to put it
mildly, a pain in the ass. Not one of them wanted to be here, preferring an
assignment in one of the office buildings that were springing up around Freeport,
and they made no secret of their preferences either. Drell blamed Sergeant Torvus.
It was his job to enforce discipline, but he seemed happy to let his men behave
as they pleased. The situation was rapidly going to come to a confrontation
if something wasnt done, and soon. With a sigh he picked up the latest
drilling report and tried to focus, then he heard the shouts.
Cursing under his breath, he dropped the report on his desk and stood angrily.
"What now? This had better not be the ore processor again
"
Drell reached and opened the door to his trailer just as the first and only
shot rang out. Beginning to panic, he pulled open the door and saw Sergeant
Torvus twitching in a crumpled heap some five metres away, a couple of what
looked like arrows sprouting from his chest. People were screaming now, terror
and panic mixed with cries of pain and rage. Figures were sweeping from the
forests fringe and Drells eye spotted one figure loping across the
compound directly towards him, its brown cloak billowing in the light
breeze, something long and sharp gleaming in its right hand. With a panicked
eye, he realised that Torvus blaster still lay in its holster, some five
metres distant. With his heart in his throat, Drell made a jump for it
Artuk cleaned
the blood from his blade with a grim smile of satisfaction, the exultant whoops
of his battle brothers ringing throughout the forest glade. Murmuring a prayer
of thanks to Mortu, he kissed the blade once more and returned it to the scabbard
with a blessing. Looking towards the fringe, he spotted May-Deen breaking the
cover of the forest, his outline broken up by the strange green and brown patterned
smock that he wore. Artuk saluted him as he approached, clasped fist to chest.
May-Deen stopped short of the two bodies at Artuks feet, his expression
strangely unreadable.
"Well have to move out quickly. They may have had time to signal
that they were under attack. Your men cant afford to be here if any airspeeders
show up."
Artuk shook his head, feathered braids swinging lazily. "The bodies must
be burned, to send their souls to Mortu on wings of smoke. It is our way."
"Youre going to have to change your ways if you want to mount an
effective guerrilla campaign, Artuk. No guerrilla army ever won a war by being
where its enemies expected it to be."
"Your words are strange May-Deen, but they have the ring of wisdom about
them. Nevertheless, it is our way. The Sons of Caradoc treat their enemies with
respect. If we were to do otherwise, we would not be the Sons of Caradoc."
General Crix Madine sighed, the folds of his Rebel Commando team camcloak rustling
slightly in the light wind.
Artuk grinned wolfishly. "But as soon as you deliver to us the blades of
light that your people have promised us, there will be no reason for us to fear
the sky-warriors either, yes?"
A tight smile crossed Madines bearded face. "Yes, Artuk, youll
get your blasters soon enough, but it will take a while for your warriors to
learn how to use them properly. It takes a while for a boy to master the use
of his fathers knife. So it is with the "blades of light", you
understand?"
Artuk nodded. "You speak the truth, May-Deen. But we are not boys. The
learning will go quickly. The Sons of Caradoc are adept in matters of war. You
will see."
Madine nodded thoughtfully as the first tongues of smoke from the improvised
funeral pyre drifted across the glen and the ululations of Artuks brother
warriors echoed through the night. "Yes, you certainly are, Artuk. You
certainly are."
One
There was
a certain majesty about hyperspace travel. The familiar coruscating blue halos
of travel at superluminal speeds had a soothing, hypnotic effect, or so it had
always seemed to Kyle Kessler. He often spent hours in the cockpit between jumps,
gazing into hyperspace, lost in contemplation of the stark beauty of the galaxy.
It was as good a way as any for a lone pilot to pass the time, and it kept him
from brooding on the past, which given his particular history, was a good thing.
It would be several hours before the Corels Dream arrived at Nar Shadda,
but he was in no hurry. His cargo was non-perishable and he didnt expect
to meet his buyer immediately anyway, so what time he would normally have spent
checking his cargo and preparing trading documentation, he instead spent in
the cockpit, watching the stars bleed by.
It was a lonely life, all things considered, but he was used to that by now.
None of his relationships had ever worked out to any degree, but he had few
regrets. Serving the Empire as a TIE Pilot, and later as a Wing Commander had
brought its own rewards, but it also brought a love for flying that quiet
retirement in an apartment on Aurora Prime could never slake. So hed sold
his home, quit his security consultancy job and bought a beaten up Corellian
freighter. With little capital and no real aims, he had taken to the life of
an independent trader like a Rancor to fresh meat. He made little profit, his
ship was always in need of repair, but he was happy. Happier than he could remember
being in a very long time, so he continued to muddle along, making contacts
here and there, losing money more often than he made any, but on the whole,
happy, and content with his lot. Which was no mean achievement.
The Corels Dream was about as standard as they came. He couldnt
afford the fancy modifications that so many pilots installed on their YT-1300s,
but he didnt care. Hed once seen the Millennium Falcon itself, many,
many years ago at the Battle of Endor, and hed been impressed; but he
simply didnt require the kind of upgrades with which that famous ship
had been fitted. He didnt intend to get involved in anything more dangerous
than talking to customs officials in any case. Of course, that didnt mean
he was taking any chances. The outer Rim was a notorious black spot for smuggling
and piracy, so he made sure the Dreams single Laser Cannon turret was
in good shape and he kept his sensors and shields operating at as close to perfection
as his rapidly burgeoning engineering skills would allow. It didnt pay
to take chances, after all. Not everyone shared his live and let live attitude.
He was startled out of his daydreaming by the proximity alarm. Nar Shadda was
coming up soon. With a sigh he began warming up essential systems, powering
up the laser, ensuring the shield capacitor was charged and ready to supply
power to the defensive systems.
With a noticeable feeling of inertia, the Corels Dream shot back into
realspace. He frowned. An old problem with the inertial damping system, hed
have to take a look at it when hed made planetfall.
Sensors showed the usual chaotic mass of craft in Nar Shadda orbit, but none
appeared to be paying any particular attention to his arrival, which suited
him just fine. He powered up his shields anyway, just in case. There was no
one in this particular area of the Outer Rim that he trusted enough to go into
Nar Shadda unprotected. Port Control and Customs were non existent in this system,
so his only problem was finding a landing bay as close as possible to his meeting
point. He instructed the computer to begin querying the various Berthing Companies
for the cheapest and most convenient options and soon had a berth that would
suit his requirements.
Nar Shadda. The Vertical City. The place was a criminal paradise, and an architectural
impossibility, but it all seemed to work. No doubt its wheels were oiled with
corruption and greed, but they turned, and turned smoothly for those who knew
where to apply the oil. Kessler didnt fool himself into thinking he was
savvy enough to be able to manipulate the system to his advantage without getting
himself raped by the sharks who ran this place. He knew enough to stay out of
trouble, find some useful contacts and not annoy the local crime bosses so much
that he became noticeable.
The navcomputer
indicated a suitable landing bay, cheap, and within walking distance of his
place of business, so he initiated the credit transfer and took the Dream down.
Swooping low over the rooftops of Nar Shaddas skyscrapers, he descended
into the gloom and traffic between the towering cityblocks and tracked his designated
landing spot. The Dream landed without incident and he checked the time. He
had an hour to waste before he was due to meet Ploovo Two-For-One, so he rose
from the pilots station with a stretch of tired muscles and went aft to
the cargo bay to check on his merchandise. All sixty crates of Blastech E-11
carbines were secure in their loading pallets, he noted with satisfaction. Gunrunning
was a dangerous business, but highly profitable, so the benefits often outweighed
the considerable risks. He hoped that on this occasion that would hold true,
truth be told he badly needed the money. His license was up for renewal soon,
and he couldnt continue trading in the relatively safe area of Emperors
Hammer space without one. He could always remain out of EH territory, trading
on the shady side of proper business practices, but he was getting too old for
the kind of trouble that went with that side of the business. He just wanted
to stay free and flying, not make a quick and easy fortune; but there was a
price to that kind of freedom, and occasionally, you had to pay the piper and
dance to his tune if you wanted to enjoy the kind of freedom that having a license
allowed. And on this occasion, the name of the song was "Gunrunning".
It wasnt his favourite tune, but it was the only one that was being played
right now, so he intended to take one dance and get back to sitting on the sidelines
as soon as possible.
Ploovo had told him to meet in a bar called "The Sullustans Sister"
just off the financial quarter. Kessler knew of the place, but had never been
there before. It wasnt his type. Nevertheless, he made an effort to get
there on time. Not purely for reasons of courtesy either. Ploovo was notorious
for his attempts to double cross his business partners, and Kessler wasnt
taking any chances. He wanted to check out the lie of the land before it was
too late to back out.
The bar was exactly as he expected inside. It was frequented by the nouveaux
riche and it catered to their vulgar ideas of what constituted current high
society fashions. All of the staff were Sullustans, females apparently, but
that was a distinction that Kessler had never been able to make. Handing over
his blaster at the door, he scanned the clientele. The patrons were mostly human,
which probably said a lot about their attitudes to alien species. Human masters
being served exclusively by small, physically unthreatening alien females. Kessler
found the psychological implications distasteful, but it was just the kind of
place hed expect Ploovo to frequent. The thought occurred to him that
twenty years ago, hed probably have thought exactly the same way. Back
then, the Empire was definitely a male-humans only club, but years of service
in the multiracial Emperors Hammer Strike Fleet had quickly erased any
reservations hed had on that score. Finding no sign of Ploovo, he took
a seat facing the door and waited.
"Mai saruba?"
A young female hovered by his table, waiting expectantly. He looked up and smiled.
"Just a glass of water please, miss." The little Sullustan nodded
and disappeared in the direction of the bar. Kessler took out a cigar and patted
down his pockets, looking for his lighter. The waitress returned with his glass
and produced a lighter of her own, face in an expression of what Kessler assumed
was a smile. He accepted the offered light gratefully and paid for his drink,
slightly shocked at the price.
"Thanks." He offered a small tip.
"Bib-do!" She returned to the bar looking for fresh customers.
Kessler decided he liked Sullustans.
Ploovo chose that moment to make his entrance. He was a short, fat humanoid,
with small, glittering eyes set into a florid, sweaty face. His nose was badly
scarred and disfigured, he reminded Kessler of the wanted posters hed
seen for the infamous Doctor Evazan, a comparison which, no doubt, Ploovo would
have liked. He had his usual entourage of hired muscle accompanying him. Kessler
noticed that none of them had been required to check their weapons at the door.
Bad news. Still, it was a public place and there was no guarantee that Ploovo
was going to double cross him.
He stood and approached Ploovos table, sitting himself opposite the crimelord
and ignoring the calculating looks of his guards.
"Kessler, good to see you." Ploovo smiled, unctuously. "And early
too." If he was displeased, he hid it well. A waitress brought a tray of
drinks to the table. Without waiting to be asked, Kessler took one and sipped
carefully. Some kind of wine, he couldnt place the vintage.
"Nice place, you a regular?"
Ploovo picked up his own drink with a slight frown at Kesslers manners.
"Im a silent partner. Its a mutually profitable arrangement."
"You mean you get to launder your dirty money through the profits and the
owner doesnt have his windows smashed in by your thugs?"
Ploovo threw his head back and laughed, greatly amused. "Very good Kessler.
I see you have a head for business after all." The scar tissue around his
nose really was repellent. Kessler wondered how it had been injured. On reflection,
he decided this wasnt really the time or place for that avenue of discussion.
"Okay Ploovo, Id love to chat but Nar Shaddas just not my kind
of cesspool. I have your consignment, wheres my money?"
Ploovos smile broadened. "Lets see the goods, Kessler"
"No chance, I wasnt born yesterday. Cash first, then you get your
sweaty paws on the merchandise."
Ploovos face assumed an expression of hurt. "Kyle, Kyle, you dont
think Id try to double-cross you, do you? Your uncle Ploovo?"
"Sorry, Ploovo. Youve obviously mistaken me for someone who gives
a shit about your hurt feelings."
Ploovo chuckled quietly. "Well, theres a slight problem with the
deal, Kessler. Concerning the cash side of the arrangement. Ive been having
some monetary problems lately, and I simply dont have the money at hand
to cover your expenses, let alone the amount we agreed." Kesslers
face darkened. "I could always pay you via credit transfer?" One glance
at his face told Ploovo exactly what Kessler thought of that idea. "Well,
I could trade you for them, or you could trust me and wait a few days until
I can liquidate some of my assets?"
Kessler considered his options. He trusted Ploovos "credit"
less than hed trust a Jawa to repair his hyperdrive, and he was positive
that Ploovos story about cash-flow problems was a fairy-tale concocted
to slope off some stock that he was having problems shifting; but his options
were pretty limited. He was going to have to take the cargo or try to find another
buyer for his weapons, and that was a risky business. Better to try to keep
things simple.
"Whats the trade?"
Ploovo smiled. "Excellent! Im sure youll have no trouble arranging
a sale, and its all perfectly legal. I have nine tons of machine tools
sitting idle in my warehouse, but the market for such things is a little slow
here, and Ive been having trouble shifting them. No doubt youll
do better elsewhere. The standard market price is ten thousand, youll
even make a small profit on the deal."
Kessler sighed. He was being shafted and he knew it, but his options were decreasing
rapidly. He was going to have to accept Ploovos offer, although he seriously
doubted Ploovos assurances that he would come out ahead of the deal.
"Okay, Ploovo you double-crossing bastard. Give me the machine tools."
Ploovo sipped his drink, contentedly. "So glad we understand each other
Kessler."
***
Kessler
groaned as he checked the stock prices again. Machine tools were not exactly
high-value commodities, and if anything, the market was depressed at the moment.
No matter which way he tried, he couldnt find a price better than seven
thousand anywhere on the major trading markets. He needed seven thousand to
get his license, and that left nothing to invest in fresh capital. There wasnt
much point in being a licensed trader if you didnt have any cargo to trade
with. It was official. Hed been hosed.
The customs officer whos terminal hed borrowed accepted it back
gratefully. "So, do I need to charge you Import Tax?"
"At the prices youre paying for my goods here on Aurora? Not likely,
Ill be taking my stock elsewhere."
"Okay, youre the boss."
Kessler left the Customs Office in a foul mood. He checked his pockets. A couple
of hundred credits and assorted loose change. Time for a drink. There was a
nearby bar he knew where he could relax and not worry about bumping into anyone
who knew him from the TIE Corps. He set off at the rush.
Despite having had a ridiculous name inflicted on it, "Safe Landings"
was a good bar. The barman was discreet and the clientele were pretty civilised.
Of course, this was Aurora Prime, the more lawless elements tended to behave
themselves here. Which was a shame, because Kessler was in a mood for a fight.
He downed his first drink in a single gulp, savouring the burning feeling settling
into his gut and ordered another. Retiring to a side table, he sat and lit a
cigar, feeling thoroughly pissed off. The only chance of getting a good price
for his machine tools was to check around the border worlds, places where such
items were needed to develop the material infrastructure of the fledgling colonies.
The only problem was, such planets tended to be off the Market Net altogether,
hence the need to visit each colony to establish the demand and price in person.
It would take ages. It would not be fun. Shit.
He was well into his second drink, reflecting bitterly on the relative merits
of laser burning Ploovos guts as opposed to coating him in gumquat sauce
and dropping him into a Gundark pit, when someone pulled up the chair opposite
him.
He was a lean, rangy spacer by the look of him. Probably aged in his early thirties,
wearing a shabby blue jumpsuit under a brown flight jacket with a peaked cap
tipped back over his sandy brown hair. He placed a drink at Kesslers side
of the table and offered his hand expectantly. "Names Dev Kerrigan,
captain of the Far Trader. My friends call me Kerry."
Warily, Kessler took the offered hand and shook it. "Kyle Kessler, I dont
have any friends so you can call me what you like."
The newcomer grinned. "Sorry to interrupt like this, but I overheard you
at Customs. Youre having trouble finding a buyer for your machine tools,
right? Or do I have the wrong guy?"
Kessler grunted. "No you got the right man. I got shafted by a worthless,
double-crossing piece of trash called Ploovo back on Nar Shadda. He must have
seen me coming a parsec away."
Kerrigan signalled for fresh drinks to the barman. "Is that a fact? Would
you be surprised if I was to tell you that this isnt the first time Mister
Ploovo has hosed his partners like this, and it just so happens that a group
of his former associates wish to teach him a little lesson in correct business
practice?"
Suddenly interested, Kessler leaned forward. "You know, mister Kerrigan
that wouldnt surprise me one little bit." He sat back and exhaled
noisily. "But other than satisfaction, what do I stand to get out of it?"
Kerrigan smiled broadly. "Well lets start the negotiations in a more
private setting, shall we? Your place or mine?"
Kessler handed Kerrigan a steaming mug of java and placed the pot down on the
Dejarik table. Cradling his mug in his hands, he settled back into the couch.
"Okay, mister Kerrigan, talk to me about details."
Kerrigan
picked up his mug, glanced around the spartan recreation space onboard Corels
Hope and sipped appreciatively before beginning. "Well its like this.
As Im sure you know by now, Ploovo Two-for-One isnt the most honest
of thieves in the galaxy, if youll excuse the obvious paradox that statement
implies. One way or another, hes screwed over just about everyone hes
ever dealt with. Three months ago, he took a cargo of spice off my hands and
left me with a shipment of blasters in exchange that all came from a batch with
defective power regulators. I know a bunch of people with similar stories, and
none of us can figure out how the hell he manages to stay in business when he
abuses everyone with such regularity."
Kessler nodded. "The thought was beginning to occur to me, too."
"Yeah, well, we figured it out eventually. Hes in the enviable position
of being the sole contract in that sector for a pretty major arms smuggling
organisation. He doesnt ever upset his suppliers, only middlemen and small
time players like us who need his custom regardless of the risks; so the syndicate
he works for pretty much dont care who he conducts his business as long
as he keeps delivering the required profits, minus his cut and whatever hes
skimming off the top."
"So he only messes with small time hustlers like us, and plays it straight
with the big boys?"
Kerrigan laughed. "Well, I wouldnt go so far as to say he plays it
straight, but hes a lot less blatant in his dealings with his suppliers."
He reached for the pot of java and refilled his mug. "Anyway, we have a
loose coalition of vengeful types united in the common desire to see Ploovo
Two-for-One get a really big kick up his ass. We have a plan, we have the equipment
we need, we just need the right person to set it all off for us, preferably
someone whos very recently been hosed by our mutual friend, someone who
has a reputation for honesty, and someone whos really a nasty, vicious,
vindictive bastard at heart."
Kessler snorted in amusement. "Whos accusing me of having a reputation
for honesty?"
Kerrigan chuckled appreciatively. "Yeah, right. So are you in or not?"
Kessler frowned. It wasnt that he didnt want to hurt Ploovo, but
he had more pressing problems to worry about, like his trading licence for example.
"I dont know, Kerry. Id like to help, but I kind of have to
find some cash quick to pay for my license
"
The lean spacer choked on his java. Coughing, he quickly recovered himself.
"Im sorry, I didnt make it clear. We may be scum but were
not stupid, and were not doing this for free either. The best way to make
Ploovo cry is to hit him in the pocket, and we dont intend to give his
money away to the Spacers Widows and Orphans Trust once weve gotten
our hands on it either."
Kesslers frown began to disappear.
"Anyway, were not all as law-abiding as you, Kessler. I know some
people who can give you a new license if youre nice enough to them, so
thats not a problem."
Kessler thought about his options. He wondered how others had started down the
slope into a life on the fringe. Had it begun this way for Kerrigan, or had
he embraced the lifestyle with open arms? Regardless, his options were getting
severely limited, and he really needed that license.
"Okay, Kerry. Lets talk details."
***
Kessler
fired the manoeuvring jets and brought the Corels Dream down onto the
landing pad with a barely perceptible bump. It had taken him a while to get
used to the control differences between TIEs and this venerable old freighter.
TIEs tended to be extremely responsive to control input, and could be thrown
about in violent manoeuvres by the slightest flick of the control column. The
Corels Dream, on the other hand, was rugged, but graceful. YT-1300s
were fairly fast and extremely agile for a Freighter-Class starship, but they
werent starfighters by any means and therefore responded to control input
a lot more sluggishly than he preferred. However, hed gotten used to it,
even grown to like it after a fellow spacer hed once travelled in convoy
with asked why he threw his ship around so energetically. Kessler hadnt
realised hed been doing anything differently, but the realisation that
hed been subconsciously treating his ship like a starfighter and it had
been noticed in his flying style despite the limitations imposed by the Dreams
less responsive thrusters; had pleased him. He was, after all, still a starfighter
pilot at heart.
Setting down at another cheap docking bay, Kessler made his way to the Sullustans
Sister and casually mentioned to the bar staff that he was looking for Mister
Ploovo. Settling down with a glass of Juri Juice, he didnt have to wait
long before he was approached by a tall Devaronian accompanied by two bodyguards.
"Kessler. Back so soon?" the horned humanoid observed while making
himself comfortable. "Ploovos business with you was concluded to
our mutual satisfaction or so I believed."
Kessler set down his glass, almost untouched. "Look, I dont know
who you are or what influence you have over Ploovo, but I need money and I need
it fast. Ploovos the only man I know in this sector who offers contracts
that pay the kind of money I need. My ships at his disposal, my only stipulation
is that I dont do assassinations."
Kesslers attention was dawn to the shorter of the two bodyguards flanking
the alien. There was something vaguely familiar about him, ex TIE Corps perhaps?
The non-human considered this for a while. "Very well, come with me. I
think we may have a job lined up that requires a clean ship and an unknown pilot."
The two stood to leave. Kessler gave the shorter guard a second look, but couldnt
begin to place where hed seen him before. It was a big Galaxy after all.
***
Two hours
later Kessler stood at a crowded bar, nursing a Corellian Brandy with Kerrigan.
Kerrigan managed to get the attention of the Bith bar staff and ordered another
round of drinks.
"A clean ship and an unknown pilot" those were his exact words, right?"
Kessler sipped at his brandy. "Yeah."
"Oh well, you realise that youre probably being set up? People like
Ploovo tend to use people with clean licenses when they expect to be turned
over and they need an innocent to use as bait." Kessler nodded.
"Sounds to me like hes expecting trouble on this run and wants to
use you as a lure to see where the shots are coming from."
"That was my conclusion too, yes."
Kerrigan studied the older spacer warily. "You still in?"
Kessler shrugged. "I dont have much choice do I? Besides, if hes
going to pull what we both think hes going to pull, Ill be in the
clear anyway. I have a clean license and the suspect cargo will be on another
ship altogether. As long as I do my part, Ploovo will be more likely to trust
me next time."
Kerrigan took a long swallow of his beer. "True, Im just not overly
happy about your getting put on the spot like this. Theres no guarantee
that whoever Ploovos expecting to try to jump you is going to be the talkative
type. They may only be interested in shooting, rather than stealing."
"Kerry, do you know what I did for a living during and after the Galactic
Civil War?"
Kerrigan laughed. "Yeah okay
I just hope youre as good as you
think you are."
Kessler grinned despite himself. "Well despite Kesslers 34th Rule
of Starfighter Combat, yes, I am as good as I think I am."
"Im not sure I want to know, but whats Kesslers 34th
Rule?" Kerrigan asked.
"Youre never as good as you think you are." Kessler finished
his drink and elbowed some space clear from a crowd of noisy revellers. "Shall
we go?"
***
He seated
himself and cleared his throat while activating the communications grid. "This
is Preacher, make your report." He ordered, curtly.
The voice on the transmitting side crackled into life, the extreme long distance
distorting the transmission. "This is Jackal. Everything is proceeding
within planned parameters. We have a man on the inside who is about to commence
his first dummy run for the target. My only concern is that we are running a
risk of having our man eliminated before he can completely gain the targets
trust. His route takes him through a relatively dangerous Sector. I think it
might be wise for us to arrange for a little insurance along the way."
"What sort of insurance do you propose?"
"Nothing too obvious. Perhaps it might be possible for a simple patrol
to cross his path at the right moment? Hes a very competent starfighter
pilot, but his ship leaves a lot to be desired. I wouldnt want to leave
his survival up to chance at this stage."
"Agreed. Leave it to me Ill arrange something once you give me the
location we can expect to intercept him at."
"Youll have to wait, he wont know his destination until he
leaves. Keep a watch on this frequency or check the dead letter box for the
details, Ill send them as soon as I know. But what I do know is that his
course takes him through the Dendrite Sector."
"The Dendrite Sector? As we expected."
"Yes, as we expected. Of course, this could be an elaborate double ruse,
and the real cargo could be bound for somewhere else altogether, but it does
raise some interesting possibilities, you agree?"
"Indeed. Well done so far. Keep working at it, I suspect well have
some definite results soon. Let us know that location as soon as possible and
good luck. Preacher out."
"Understood. Jackal out."
***
Things were moving quickly. Kessler had been promised two thousand credits for
simply flying by a series of navpoints with a dummy cargo. Of course, Quarrel
hadnt told him that he was being used as bait, but the fact that he had
nothing more dangerous than thirty tons of fertiliser in his cargo bay was a
bit of a giveaway.
He checked the navcomputer a final time. This was going to be the most dangerous
part of the journey. The Dendrite Sector was a relative anomaly in this part
of the Rim. There were very few habitable planets here and many large asteroid
clusters and nebulae, making navigation very hazardous. Yet for all its
disadvantages, the Sector made an effective buffer zone between Supreme Moff
Lardo Babunes Imperial Orthodoxy, Grand Admiral Stephan Ronins Emperors
Hammer Territories; and the Independent Territories along the border of the
New Republic. Neither of the three powers was anxious to see either of the others
militarise the sector, but small patrols were allowed. The lack of a strong
military or police presence, and the Sectors ideal placement between three
major economic blocs had naturally led to a proliferation of piracy and smuggling.
Kesslers 17th Rule of Starfighter Combat applied: "Forewarned is
forearmed. If you cant be forewarned, then forearmed, foreshielded and
escape co-ordinates fore-computed is an acceptable substitute." His guns
were charged and online, and his shields were on standby.
The navcomputer warbled. One minute to go. The navpoint he was approaching was
on the near side of a large but sparsely clustered asteroid field. It barely
qualified as an asteroid field, so normal sublight travel was possible but mildly
hazardous, superluminal travel however, through an astrogational object even
as sparse as this was suicide. There was another navmarker on the far side of
the field, and it would take around twenty minutes at a safe speed to make it
to the other side. Once there, he could go to hyperspeed again, and his next
stop on his circular route would be Nar Shadda. He strongly suspected that it
wasnt going to be so easy.
The Corels Dream lurched into realspace, Kesslers eyes flicking
over instrument readouts even as he cursed himself for not getting round to
fixing the inertial dampers. Short range sensors detected nothing, he switched
to medium range. Nothing. His limited long range scans also showed nothing unusual,
but hed be back in hyperspace before anything at long range could get
close enough to become a threat anyway. He activated the shields and got a bearing
on the next navmarker, then fed the data to the navcomputer in order for it
to began the calculations for the next jump. He considered switching to an active
scan in order to attempt to get a better picture of his surroundings. There
was really nothing to be lost by doing it, his position had already been given
away by his electromagnetic hyperspace exit flare and his passive sensors were
extremely limited. He activated the Dreams rectenna and ran a quick sweep
as he approached the outer limit of the asteroids. Nothing. Anything waiting
for him was hidden well, probably using the big rocks themselves as cover. There
was nothing else for it, he was going to have to go for it.
He manoeuvred the Corels Dream into the fringe of the belt, running at
a safe speed, easily avoiding the scattered rocks that littered his path. The
thirty tons of organics in the cargo bay adding appreciably to his mass, and
further complicating the dynamics of his flight. With the faulty inertial dampers,
he could definitely feel a difference in her handling. Not ideal. Once again,
he cursed himself for not getting round to fixing the problem when he had time.
The cockpit proximity alarm was starting to get on his nerves, as it was warbling
every time he approached one of the large rock masses, which was every minute
or so, so he switched it off with an irritated flick of a switch. Five minutes
gone, and still no sign of trouble. Perhaps Ploovo had overreacted? It was possible.
Eight minutes gone, twelve to go. He didnt dare relax.
His passive sensors alarmed and he flicked a glance at the sensor panel. A ship
had just emerged from hyperspace on the far side of the belt. Sensors identified
it as a Gallofree Yards Medium Transport, escorted by two Headhunters. He began
to relax slightly. A Gallofree was a far juicier target than a YT-1300, although
he realised that wouldnt make a difference to anyone specifically looking
for him, but any casual attackers were likely to jump on the newcomer rather
than himself. All the same, he kept a wary eye on the approaching ships. Pirates
had used some pretty devious tricks to sucker unwary travellers before, there
was no good reason why this couldnt be one of them.
Then it happened. An ruby streak of laser fire arced from the cover of one of
the bigger rocks and struck the lead Headhunter square on the port engine. The
ship bucked before accelerating sharply, avoiding a second burst, and Kesslers
sensor display lit up across the board. Several small shapes detached from the
asteroids ahead and launched after the small convoy. Kessler didnt have
a tactical computer to identify them, but he didnt need one. He recognised
the profile Y-Wings. Two closed down on the lead Headhunter as he desperately
tried to find his wingman. His rear quarter took a second hit, and his shields
depleted, he lost an engine. No longer having a speed advantage, he tried to
turn to fight, but the two raiders had pulled a bracket manoeuvre and neatly
intersected him with laser fire as he presented a broad silhouette on the arc
of his turn. His ship disintegrated around him in a fiery mess and the two Y-Wings
turned their attention to fresh prey.
Kessler saw them coming. He angled the deflectors, disengaged the safety and
slaved his gun turret to the forward fire arc. Swerving to port to avoid the
path of an asteroid obscuring his line of fire, he triggered a long, probing
burst at extreme range. Kesslers 42nd Rule of Starfighter Combat: "Being
a good pilot doesnt hurt, but being a good shot is better. One shot on
target is worth more than an hour of evasive manoeuvres, and its less
boring too." Kessler was merely a good pilot, but he was an excellent shot.
The lead Y-Wing pilot was probably very surprised to see his shields crumple
at such extreme range. He began to corkscrew wildly to throw off Kesslers
aim, his wingman carried on driving in, narrowing the range. Kessler had been
hoping that might happen.
He switched targets and began to pile fire into the second Y-Wing, even as its
pilot began to feel confident enough about the range to begin firing himself.
Ignoring his return fire, Kessler kept up the attack. A barrage of shots hammered
into the Y-Wings forward shields and punched through. Checking his systems
display, Kessler noted that his own shields had stabilised but were down to
175% efficiency after the one-sided gunnery duel. With a brief smile of satisfaction,
he switched concentration back to the fight. The lead Y-Wing was still maintaining
its old attack course, yet its guns had fallen silent. In an instant,
Kessler guessed that everything bar his engines had been disabled in the exchange
of fire, and he switched his attention back to the second Y-Wing, who was just
coming into optimum gunnery range after his corkscrew tactic had slowed down
his rate of approach. Kessler began to pull the Dream up and around in a repeating
arc, tracing a figure of eight in space, with the Y-Wing at its centre.
It was a tactic best suited to small and agile starfighters, and Kesslers
ship was too large a target for it be very effective, but it reduced the amount
of fire that hit while he was manoeuvring, while allowing him to squeeze off
a burst of fire every time the enemy ship passed the centre of the figure eight.
The difference in firepower and shielding between the two aggressors soon told.
The Y-Wings shielding collapsed and his port engine spar sheared off under
the attack, igniting his fuel slugs and disintegrating the fuselage and cockpit
in the resulting explosion.
A swift check of the sensors showed no trace of the first attacker, but a dissipating
fireball on the surface of an asteroid two clicks aft gave a good indication
that he hadnt managed to fix his flight controls until it was too late.
Tough luck.
The Medium transport was in trouble. She was broadcasting a distress call on
all frequencies, but there was considerable jamming and it was doubtful that
the call was going anywhere fast. Her second escort had been destroyed, and
without any armament she was a sitting duck for the remaining six Y-Wings. They
had switched to Ion Cannons and were taking turns at making slow and leisurely
strafing runs, their hits splashing over her shields in pale blue patterns.
Actually, this was good. No-one was bothering the Corels Dream, a situation
which was as rare as it was welcome. The medium Transports desperate evasion
course was taking her away from the navmarker, which left Kessler with a clear
run to safety. He increased speed instinctively and changed course to get through
the asteroid field as soon as possible.
Kessler tried to think of himself as a practical man, and this was true, most
of the time. While a Wing Commander in the TIE Corps, hed always taught
his pilots to ignore ethical and moral considerations whenever they conflicted
with practical ones. It was a harsh philosophy, but it kept his men and women
alive more often than not. For himself, hed been ordered to do some questionable
things from time to time. Hed firebombed a crowd of civilians on an undercover
mission to Coruscant on one occasion. It was something he was far from proud
of, but hed had time to come to terms with his actions; and while still
troubled by some of the things hed done in the line of duty, remorse didnt
rule his life. Hed been a warrior, and a warrior whose mind isnt
on the mission is a warrior waiting to die, or worse, waiting to get his team
killed.
That was history now though. He wasnt bound by the TIE Corps Oath of Service
anymore, and he was acutely aware that he could easily have been in that Transports
position had luck been looking the other way.
Seconds ticked by, the Transports shields weakened further. He checked the distance
to the navbeacon. Hed be there and away in under two minutes.
He looked at the sensor display again. Its shields were almost gone.
"Shit!"
The Corels Dream Pulled around in a tight high G turn and accelerated
to attack speed, flipping and weaving violently to avoid the asteroids which
were now a much greater threat at her higher speed.
"Shit!" he cursed again, angling the deflectors to the front quarter
once again and selecting the nearest target, which was rapidly coming into gunnery
range.
Could have been halfway to Nar Shadda by now, but no. I have to have a damn
conscience attack dont I? Shit!
He triggered the lasers and unleashed a punishing burst of fire into the closest
Y-Wing. It broke apart in seconds, completely unable to absorb that kind of
damage. The remainder scattered, their prey ignored for the moment.
Kesslers 5th Rule of Starfighter Combat: Stay on the offensive. Anyone
avoiding your fire isnt shooting back at you, and that is what is known
in the trade as A Good Thing.
Got to get more kills in quickly, keep hitting them before they can regroup.
Diving through the centre of the pack, his laser cannons found another target,
probing streaks of fire shearing off an engine spar and condemning his victim
to a perpetual, uncontrolled spin through cold, hard space.
The odds were four to one now, and the Dream had a shield and speed advantage,
if not a firepower one. Spotting a wide, clear gap in the asteroids, Kessler
gunned the throttle and rocketed clear, putting as much distance between himself
and his tormentors as possible before swooping around to return to the fray.
His plan was simple zoom and boom. Exploit his speed and defensive advantage
by making repeated diving attacks into the pack of Y-Wings. Hes seen rookie
pilots in faster ships suckered into trying to dogfight with weaker but more
numerous foes before. It was an old tactic, the pilot you were attacking simply
dodged your fire long enough to set you up for his wingmen to take care of you.
Kessler was far too old to fall for a trick like that. He selected his next
target and prepared to draw a bead on him, when a cockpit warning alarm went
off with a loud shriek.
Missile launch? Well that changes things. He thought wryly. The radar showed
three concussion missiles locked on with bare seconds before impact. No time
to shoot them down, think quick, Kessler.
Sometimes you just have to take it like a man.
The Corels Dream jinked wildly and corkscrewed, one missile missed and
began to loop around for a return pass, the other two were more accurate, striking
home both on the forward mandible and square on top of where the ventral gun
turret would have been, if one had been installed. Riding out the shockwaves,
Kessler fought to regain control, and brought the ship around to intersect the
path of the closest of the larger asteroids, controls sluggish with the extra
mass of his cargo. He floored the throttle and zoomed past, wrenching the Dream
around the bulk of the rock just as the third missile caught up with his course
change. It detonated harmlessly on the mass of the iron-nickel rock, giving
him time to assess the situation. Shields were down to 50%, which was far from
good. Hed underestimated the enemy, a mistake which most pilots didnt
have the opportunity to regret. It was pretty plain that his zoom and boom tactic
was out of the question now, but at least he could still outmanoeuvre them.
Muttering a brief prayer, he hauled the ship around, guessing that the Y-Wings
would break into two flight elements of two ships each to split around the rock
hed used as cover. He was right. Linked laser fire took one of the first
two Y-Wings in the face as it crested the top of asteroid, sending its remains
spiralling and its wingman sweeping away frantically.
Didnt expect to see me from this angle again did you boys? Tough luck.
He continued the turn, looping around the rock and ignoring the survivor, who
began to turn his lumbering bomber around to get onto his tail. Clearing the
mass of the asteroid in a wide loop, he emerged clear of the bottom, behind
the second pair just as realisation of where he must have gone was dawning.
For one of them, realisation dawned too late. For the other, by the time he
began to evade, he was in a flight group of one. The survivor of the first pair
cleared the bulk of the asteroid and settled himself down on Kesslers
tail at long range. He held his fire and began to pile on speed, while the one
ahead started to dodge wildly, yet all the time holding him onto roughly the
same course. Kessler checked his speed. He was travelling at optimum combat
speed, yet not closing on the lead bomber as quickly as hed have liked.
His tail was closing the distance however, therefore logic dictated that the
guy in front was sacrificing weapons power for speed, and the guy behind him
was sacrificing shield power for speed, an intelligent tactic that showed these
two at least were learning quickly and working together. His assumption was
proven correct when a barrage of laser fire struck his rear quarter and the
Dream shuddered. Smiling grimly, Kessler swung the ship around in as tight a
turn as he could manage with its increased mass, and found himself racing head
on with what had until a few seconds ago, been his pursuer. The Y-Wing pilot
realised the situation he was in instantly he had no shields and Kessler
was about to fire. He had two choices, he made the wrong one.
Kessler ignored the incoming fire and lined up his target before squeezing the
trigger. The Y-Wing exploded almost instantly.
You should have dodged.
He didnt stop to admire his work, but swept around in a wide arc to pursue
the remaining bomber. However, it seemed someone had finally taken the hint,
for the remaining pilot went to lightspeed and escaped the battle before Kessler
could track him.
Sighing with relief, he slowed to a safer speed and checked his systems display.
Shields were down to 12%. No other damage. He grinned and patted the flight
console affectionately.
The Medium Transport appeared to be in one piece, its engines were still
online and its shields were slowly recharging. He opened a comms channel
to its captain to enquire as to her status.
"This is Captain Kessler of the Corels Dream. You guys in one piece?"
"Captain Derrel of the Naboo Star. Got a little hairy there for a minute,
but no real damage done" was the reply. "Shame about our escorts,
but they were mercenaries anyway. No-one I knew personally."
Kessler winced at the callous remark, but then, that was life on the fringe
after all. The mercs had known the risks when they took the job.
"Okay captain, Id suggest you get your cargo out of there before
any more show up. Im in no shape to duel with another bunch right now."
A hiss of static, then Derrels voice returned, mildly concerned. "You
okay? Your ship took a little beating from what I could see."
"No, shes fine. This old girls older, tougher and uglier than
Ill ever be. Good luck with the rest of your trip, you can buy me a drink
sometime."
"Sure thing Captain Kessler. Take care, Naboo Star out."
Kessler relaxed slightly and changed course to rendezvous with the navbeacon.
Time to go home and collect his cash. If Ploovo didnt trust him after
this job, hed personally hand feed him his damned fertiliser, all thirty
tons of it.
In retrospect, Kessler would have admitted that going to the Naboo Stars
aid was a damned stupid thing to do, given that he was aware that the mission
was very likely a set-up. Nevertheless, when the squadron of V-38s suddenly
dropped their cloaks and opened fire on him, he was taken completely by surprise.
The Corels Dreams shields were wiped out in the first barrage, and
the cockpits master warning alarm went haywire, with red lights springing
into life across the board. Instinctively, he began evasive manoeuvres without
knowing exactly from which direction he was under attack. His sensors only confused
the issue the TIE Phantoms were decloaking to fire and slipping off his
sensors too quickly to get an accurate ID, let alone a target lock. Only experience
confirmed exactly how deep in the shit he really was.
V-38s? Emperors Hammer ships? What the hell have I gotten myself
into?
He redlined
the engines, knowing that his freighter didnt have a prayer against a
whole squadron of TIE Phantoms. Nevertheless, within seconds, it became clear
that with the extra mass of his cargo, he hadnt a chance of making it
to the navbouy in time, and without a gunner for the turret cannon, he had even
less of a chance of defending himself.
The ship shuddered and he heard a small explosion aft, evidence that the hull
plating was taking a savage battering. He had around fifty seconds to go before
he could make the jump to lightspeed, in all likelihood, hed be lucky
to last another twenty. There was only one chance that he might make it. Ploovo
might be pissed off, but that was the least of his concerns.
He ejected his cargo.
Dimly, as he fought to control the Dream on a straight course despite the pounding
her hull was taking, he heard the cargo bay blast doors slam shut and the hollow
roar of the bay venting to deep space. The Corels Dream surged forward
as she suddenly found herself thirty tons lighter, and the threat display clearly
showed three explosions blossoming in the night behind him as several unlucky
pilots found themselves unable to avoid the mass of fractured cargo pallets
and flash-frozen organic compounds in time. The relentless barrage of laser
fire died, his pursuers unable to get a lock, their sensors obscured by the
billowing cloud of debris and their pilots frantically trying to evade the fate
that had befallen three of their comrades.
Kesslers hand hovered anxiously over the hyperdrive lever, a trickle of
cold sweat running down the line of his jaw. The seconds ticked by with agonising
lassitude. The navcomputer chimed once, and in an instant, the cockpit filled
with a blue glare as the stars bled away into superluminal streaks of light.
Taking everything into consideration, it had been a pretty eventful day.
"Mother
Goose this is Eyeball One. Abort your attack, hes dealt with the attackers
and gone to lightspeed. I repeat, the target is away safely. Your presence is
not required."
"Dealt with all of them? Not bad, who gave this guy permission to retire?"
*chuckle* "I think it happened around when Sector Admiral Compton was Flight
Officer, but dont quote me on that."
"Okay, Eyeball, enjoy the rest of your shift. Were out of here."
"Roger. Enjoy your trip."
---
"Big Bird, this is Eyeball One. Area is clear. Send your transports to
collect the bodies and the wreckage. The forensics boys have a lot of work ahead
of them."
"Roger, Eyeball. Lets see what we cant learn about our mystery
attackers shall we?"
Two
Artuk wrapped
his cloak tighter around himself and buried himself deeper into the undergrowth.
Despite May-Deens assurances that something as simple as a skin cream
could protect the Sons of Caradoc from the sky warriors finding-magic,
he didnt relish being in a situation where he was forced to put the outworlders
claims to the test. Fear was not an emotion that Artuk was used to, yet hed
seen first hand how easily the outworlders flying machines could detect
his warriors even through the dense cover of the trees, and hed also witnessed
the awesome destructive power of their weapons firsthand.
After an age of quick, shallow breathing and sweat-stung eyes, May-Deen gave
the signal that it was safe to continue. Wordlessly, a dozen of his fellow warriors
rose from the ferns and bracken, pale faced and shaken, each one of them. Only
the tall outworlder seemed unperturbed.
Anxious not to allow himself to seem less of a man than May-Deen, Artuk spoke
first, trying to keep the relief out of his voice.
"It is as you say May-Deen. The salve you have given our warriors is charmed
against the finding-magic of the sky-warriors."
Madine nodded. "It is a simple magic, Artuk. The cream prevents the heat
of your bodies from rising into the air where the sky-warriors machines
can smell it."
"As you say, yet I long for the day when I can reach out with my own blade
of light and strike at our enemies, instead of cowering in the dirt like a woman."
Madine nodded. The other warriors rumbled their agreement. Fear makes men voluble,
and these primitive warriors were no exception. "Soon, Artuk. Soon the
Sons of Caradoc will have the weapons you desire. Then your enemies will not
be so quick to pursue you with flying machines, and you can drive them from
your lands like the dogs they are."
Artuk nodded, happy that his eagerness for battle had once again been asserted
in front of his brothers. He looked up through the branches overhead, wondering
where the winds had taken the sky-warriors this time. One day they will be made
to regret the day they challenged the right of the Sons of Caradoc to walk their
own lands. I will see that they do not live to regret it for long.
***
Kessler
spotted Kerrigan propping up one corner of the bar with a pair of drinks waiting.
He waved and walked over to meet the younger spacer.
"You look like shit, Kess" said Kerrigan, handing over a cold beer.
"Your mother didnt think so" Kessler shot back.
"Kess, youre old enough to be my mothers grandfather."
Kerrigan laughed.
Smiling, Kessler sipped at his drink, then nodded in approval. "This stuffs
good."
"Yeah, the barman brews it on the premises." He paused, allowing Kessler
to take a good swipe of his beer. "So?"
Kessler drained the glass and set it down on the bar, signalling the Rodian
barman for another. "Well I got myself sidelined in a little skirmish with
a bunch of "legitimate" pirates. Then, as luck would have it, the
real hit-squad showed up." He began to attack his second beer.
"Come on Kess, youre not getting paid by the hour, what happened?"
Kessler shrugged. "I got one of the most savage poundings Ive ever
had the misfortune to take in my life. A Squadron of what I assume were V-38s
jumped me."
Kerrigans eyes bugged in disbelief.
"Well, I assume they were V-38s. They were cloaked most of the time after
all" he finished, sarcastically.
"Kess, its not that I dont respect your skills as a pilot or
anything, but TIE Phantoms? Ive never even seen one, and you survived
getting jumped by a whole squadron?"
Kessler chuckled. "Well the thing about V-38s Kerry, is that youre
not supposed to see them. Thats kind of the whole point."
Kerrigan gave him a sour look. "Shut up wise-ass. Explain."
Kessler sighed, suddenly looking a lot older than his thirty eight years. "I
waited until I judged they were right on my tail and dumped my cargo over them.
Then I kinda exceeded the safety margins of the engines and left in a hurry.
Any idea what it all means?"
Kerrigan shrugged. "Well I think pushing your engines over the stated safe
operating limits might mean youve invalidated your insurance
"
Kessler rolled his eyes.
"
But apart from that I have no idea. You think they were
"
he stopped suddenly. "Kess, lets not talk here. Your place or mine?"
"Mine. I can work on the repairs while youre talking."
***
"Hydrospanner"
Kessler grunted. Kerrigan selected the relevant tool from the tray and passed
it down into the drive bay.
"You sure you know what you're doing down there?" Kerrigan asked,
peering into the mess of wires and cables from which Kessler's legs protruded.
A muffled snort was his reply. "Kerry, do you know anything about repulsor
coils or inertial dampers?"
"Nope."
"Then shut up unless you're talking about a subject you're qualified to
speak on."
"Like our little conspiracy for example?"
Kessler reached from the drive bay and dropped the hydrospanner by Kerrigan's
feet. "Exactly. Lump hammer?"
Kerrigan rooted around in the tray and passed Kessler a large, blunt hammer.
"This it?"
"That's the sucker." He braced himself against the internal bulkhead,
gripped the hammer in both hands and laid into what appeared to be the hyperdrive
motivator with an almighty blow. Satisfied, he passed the hammer back up to
the dumbfounded Kerrigan and climbed out of the drive bay. "That should
work."
Kerrigan stared at him. "Where did you learn engineering? The Academy,
or Watto's Junkyard?"
Kessler grinned and wiped his hands on an oily rag. "Back in Tornado Squadron
we used to have a Chief Tech called Machiko Toranaga. Tornado was a frontline
squadron, so our ships got pretty beat up from time to time. She was always
low on engineering crew so she insisted on teaching us basic engineering, then
the next time we brought a bent Missileboat in from a patrol she'd make us try
to fix the problem ourselves."
"Basic engineering about sums it up."
"Yeah, yeah, spare me your sarcasm. Anyway, there was one thing about her
engineering courses I never did understand."
Kerrigan sighed. "Go on..."
Kessler stooped to pick up a tool from the deck. "Why do they call it a
hydrospanner?"
"Beats me."
"Seriously. Hydro means water, right? Does this thing look like it contains
water?" He brandished the sturdy tool under Kerrigan's nose.
"Maybe it's hydraulic?"
Kessler peered at the spanner cautiously. "You mean it's supposed to have
moving parts?"
"Of course it is! What do you use it for anyway?"
Kessler shrugged. "It's just got a twirly bit on the end that's useful
for getting at stuff in obscure places."
"A 'twirly bit'?"
Kessler laughed good naturedly. "It's a technical term, Kerry."
Kerrigan shook his head, bemused. How the Corel's Dream stayed flying in one
piece seemed to be one of life's unsolved mysteries.
"Anyway, we have more important matters to discuss. To the cockpit."
Kerrigan followed Kessler to the Dream's cockpit and sat himself in the co-pilot's
station. Outside, the multicoloured face of Nar Shadda swirled in a garish neon
haze. Kessler pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it, blowing clouds of aromatic
blue smoke into the ventilation.
"Kess, those V-38s have been bothering me. I'm not sure what it means,
but it's obvious that whoever's got it in for Ploovo's suppliers means business."
Kessler nodded. "Yeah, I figured that part out for myself, but which side
do you suppose they're on? There aren't a whole lot of organisations that can
afford that kind of high-tech muscle. I know the Emperor's Hammer has the odd
"special ops" Squadron that uses them, and I have to tell you - I
really don't feel like messing with the EH. I was never comfortable shooting
at people I know."
Kerrigan pursed his lips, deep in thought. "You could be right, but remember,
if the EH is pissed at Ploovo's people for some reason, we're doing them a favour
by helping to screw him."
"True, which brings me onto the next thing I've been meaning to ask you.
Who's this "we"? So far the only person I see getting shot at is me."
Kerrigan stared at Kessler for a good long while. He seemed to come to a decision.
"Kess, I wasn't completely honest with you about our backers."
Kessler stared him out, daring him to continue.
"Well, you see, the thing is...have you ever heard of a guy named Tallon
Karrde?"
"Nope."
"I said Tallon Karrde."
Blank look.
"Youve never heard of Tallon Karrde?"
Incomprehension.
"The man who took over Jabba the Hutts criminal empire after his
death?"
"Jabba who?"
Kerrigan began to feel the situation slipping away from him. "Kess, how
the hell have you managed to survive in this business without knowing who youre
not supposed to upset?"
Kessler shrugged, obviously unimpressed. "Ive always made it my policy
not to upset anyone in this line of work if I can help it. Those whore
determined to cause offence I either walk away from or kill. Simple business
plan, and its worked so far.
"Well it's not that simple. Karrde's people are running guns in a big way
these days, making a lot of money out of the conflict out here on the Rim, and
he's got a lot of influence on the fringe. I mean, the kind of influence that
means when a man in my line of work gets made an offer he can't refuse by one
of Karrde's contacts, well...you just don't refuse."
"This Karrde persons a serious piece of work then?"
Kerrigan spread his hands and shrugged. "Sorry, Kess. You're working for
Tallon Karrde."
Kessler shook his head, glassy eyed. "So what's the deal?"
"Well, nothing's changed. Ploovo's taking a lot of business away from Karrde's
pocket, but simply sending in the Bounty Hunter's Guild wouldn't solve anything.
Ploovo's backers would just find someone else, and Karrde's organisation spent
months finding out about Ploovo in the first place, so they're happy to leave
him be as long as there's a chance to track back to his suppliers. It's them
they want to close down. Without his backers Ploovo's a nobody. That's where
we come in."
Kessler lifted his leg and stubbed out his cigar on the sole of his boot. "But
if Karrde's people weren't behind the V-38 attack, that must mean that there's
someone else trying to close Ploovo down. Surely it follows that these people
must be the enemies of whoever Ploovo's supplying guns to? And doesn't that
make them on the same side as Karrde? On the same side as us?"
"Kess, did I ever tell you Kerrigan's Rule of Life on the Edge Number One?"
The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Kessler's mouth. "No, but
I have a feeling you're going to."
"There's only one rule. The only person on your side is you."
"I like that one. I'll have to remember it."
Kerrigan stood, brushing down his jumpsuit. "Anyway, tell me about your
latest meeting with the Fat Guy."
"Well, he was pretty surprised to see me alive."
"You dont say?"
"Yeah, he didnt exactly come right out and admit it, but its
obvious he was using me as cheap bait to lure the ambushers out and nothing
else, which explains why he didnt pay me up front, and why he never asked
what happened to the cargo of fertiliser." Kessler patted down his pockets
for another cigar. "He was so impressed that Id survived he didnt
even didnt even argue when I demanded my money for completing the run.
Apart from that, hes offered me another run, at three times what he was
paying last time, and with half up front."
"Now youre talking!" Kerrigan grinned enthusiastically. "Split
the proceeds fifty fifty?"
"Only if you dont mind spending it with broken fingers" Kessler
retorted.
Kerrigan laughed again, obviously pleased that their plans were coming to fruition.
"Okay, so its a genuine weapons deal this time, right?"
"As far as I can tell, yes. Hes paying gun-running money for it.
I think my actions have convinced him that I can handle myself in a fight."
"Any idea when this run will take place, or where?"
"So far all I know is when two days from now. As for where
I
have no idea. I wont know until we get set to go." He paused, thoughtful
for a second. "The only thing thats been bugging me is how were
going to track back to Ploovos suppliers? Even if we do hijack a shipment,
its unlikely to have If undelivered please return to Acme Gun Smugglers
Inc written all over it is it?"
Kerrigan smiled, "It should be simple. All we need to do is steal a major
shipment, then put the word around that we have a consignment of arms to sell
on the market. Whoevers supplying Ploovo will be looking around for who
stole their guns anyway. When they check us out theyll discover that what
were offering matches the stolen shipment exactly. Theyll assume
theyre dealing with a bunch of idiots, contact us to arrange a purchase,
then try to doublecross us at the sale and steal back their guns
"
"Only well be expecting that and will be loaded for bear?"
"Precisely. All we need to do is capture one of their ships, check its
log to find out where it came from and were in business."
Kessler rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully. "Sounds good
but there
are only two of us. Im pretty good, but Im not that good."
"Relax, Kess. Were working for the big boys now. Well have
backup. Lots and lots of backup."
***
"Preacher,
this is Jackal. All is proceeding as planned. Were going to need some
backup though, and I mean subtle backup. A few R-41s would be nice, but
Y-Wings would be better."
"That shouldnt be too hard to arrange, you have a location yet?"
"Negative. Thats going to be a problem too. We wont know where
were going or how many ships well be intercepting until the very
last minute. Id recommend that you activate Wolf and Snake and get them
to Nar Shadda immediately. Ill introduce them to the principle and together
we can arrange an intercept once we know the location."
"Sounds logical. Ill get right on it."
"Any word from forensics on who our friendly ambushers were?"
"Nothing. They were completely clean. No identifying marks of any kind
whatsoever, although that in itself tells us two things. One the dead
pilots have never worked for us, and Two their current employers are
an organisation at least as careful and resourceful as we are. That narrows
the list of suspects down somewhat."
"We cant completely rule out the possibility that they still may
be a private organisation."
"True, but its highly unlikely. Youre doing a good job there,
Jackal. Keep it up."
"Just you remember that when my bonus is due. Jackal out."
***
Kessler
was spot-welding the more serious damage to the ventral armour plating when
Kerrigan cleared the hatch to Docking Bay 33B with a group of suspicious-looking
individuals in tow. Switching off his fusion welder, he removed his goggles
and waved down to his friend. Kerrigan returned the wave, indicating everything
was above-board. Kessler leaned over the hull and shouted down to the hired
maintenance droid to continue with the repairs and indicated to Kerrigan to
bring his guests onboard.
Inside, he found Kerrigan waiting in the crew compartment with five unsavoury-looking
men and women. Wiping his hands on an oily rag, he shot Kerrigan an enquiring
glance.
"People, this is Kyle Kessler. Hes the inside man, and the one whos
been taking all the risks so far. Ex-TIE Corps Colonel and hes not dead
yet, so you know he can handle himself in a fight." The group nodded and
murmured their greetings.
Kerrigan turned to a tall, weasel-faced human and gestured with his hand. "Kess,
this is Dino Dayton, but everyone calls him D-Day. Hes captain of the
Firespray Class attack ship Killing Time and all round useful man to have in
a fight. He was working for Ploovo last year as a convoy escort and got his
last ship shot out from under him when they were jumped by a New Republic cruiser
hunting for pirates in the Mandell sector. Ploovos idiots refused to stop
and be searched despite the fact that they were in Independent space and the
Republic couldnt legally confiscate their contraband. D-Day was ordered
to cover their escape, which he did, but Ploovo refused to compensate him for
his damages, despite the whole debacle being Ploovos fault. Needless to
say, D-Day hasnt worked for him since."
Next up was a middle aged woman, large-boned, with a homely face, but a manner
about her that suggested she wasnt the type that stayed at home patching
socks. "This is Angel. Dont ask her what her real name is, no-one
knows and she aint telling. She flies the YT-1300 Mommas Pride and
though it may not be quite the Millennium Falcon, its more than capable
of blowing away this sorry excuse you call a ship."
Angel smiled. "More than a match for your Far Trader too, Kerry."
Kerrigan snorted. "That remains to be seen. Anyway, shes got an itch
shes been waiting to scratch for years, ever since Ploovo sold her a ship
that was on the "Destroy on Sight" lists of four major Intelligence
and Security agencies. Not surprisingly, Angel and Ploovo arent the types
who believe in keeping efficient ownership records, so she had quite some explaining
to do when she first tried to obtain landing clearance at the next New Republic
port. The last she saw of the ship was when it was impounded by New Republic
Intelligence, and believe it or not Ploovo doesnt offer money back
guarantees."
"Anyway, moving swiftly on, these last three are the famous Rodo brothers:
Max, Harl and Kel. The Brothers Rodo are good, honest mercenaries with their
own Y-Wings, and theyll hate Ploovo too as long as we pay them enough."
The three human mercs smiled laconically. Kessler raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, as long as I pay them enough" Kerrigan amended.
Kessler walked to the stores locker and extracted a bottle of Chalquila and
a handful of glasses. "So I guess this means were in business?"
Kerrigan nodded. "Looks that way. Make sure you let us know where to intercept
you and well be there waiting. I think weve got all the angles covered."
Kessler began to pour shots of alcohol. "Got a few questions , though.
Were disabling these ships and taking the cargo, hence the Y-Wings and
our friends the Brothers Rodo here, right?"
"Right."
"How are we going to get the cargo transferred between ships?"
Angel broke in. "Taken care of. Mommas Pride has boarding tackle
that can fit just about any cargo port on most major commercial ship types.
Kerry here will be riding shotgun with me in case it proves more practical to
take a ship over and drive it out under its own power."
Kessler shot her an enquiring look. "That an optional extra or do you have
a regular use for such a piece of equipment?"
Angel smiled, exposing badly-stained, yellowing teeth. "Dont ask."
Kessler shrugged. "Fair enough. Secondly, the guys whose cargoes were
going to be hustling. What happens to them?"
Kerrigan at least had the good grace to look uncomfortable. "Well we really
dont want them being able to ID us afterwards
"
Kesslers face turned to steel.
"Be reasonable, Kess
"
"No."
Kerrigan set his mug down on the Dejarik table and fixed Kessler with a calculating
stare. "Listen to me you dumb old fart, were not messing around with
honest traders here. These people mean business, and we cant afford the
time to piss around with them. Now its not our plan to wade in all guns
blazing and kill everybody, simply because thats not professional. But
one way or another were getting that cargo off these suckers; and if it
comes down to a choice between killing some stubborn idiot who wont give
up when he should, or getting my own ass shot off because weve dicked
around so long trying to be civilised with them that theyve managed to
call for help
well, thats no choice at all. Understand?"
Kessler swallowed once. Hed considered himself a good judge of character
until now, but there was a cold, hard side to Kerrigan that hes never
suspected existed behind his normal happy-go-lucky façade. The worst
thing was, he was right.
Kessler didnt argue.
Kerrigan turned to regard the rest of the gang. "Okay, we all know what
the score is. Everyone get outta here and lie low until you get the signal,
then be ready to move fast." People began to stand and leave the ship.
Presently there was only Kerrigan and Kessler left. Kessler avoided Kerrigans
eye.
"Sorry, Kess; but there are a few facts of life out here that just dont
seem to have sunk in yet."
Kessler sighed and faced his friend at last. "I know, its just hard
adjusting. I used to know what the rules were, but these days it seems that
the rules change so fast its getting hard to keep track."
"Rules were made to be broken, Kess."
"In the TIE Corps things were pretty simple. You killed who you were told
to, because you figured that people senior to you had good reasons for choosing
their targets. Most of the time, the other side was hell-bent on killing you
first anyway, so it didnt trouble your conscience too much. Occasionally
I had to do things I
had problems with. But you always had the consolation
of knowing you were acting under orders. But now Im going to kill people
whove never done me any harm, simply because they have something I want.
Theres a word for that where I come from, Kerry. Its called murderer."
Kerrigan wisely stayed silent. There were some things that you just couldnt
explain to a man. Some things people had to work out on their own.
"Is this how it started for you? How long does it take before you stop
worrying about your conscience?"
Kerrigan thought carefully before answering. "Kess, Im not your priest.
You have to come to terms with your own conscience. If it makes you feel any
better, were putting a major weapons dealer out of business. The guys
running guns for him arent innocents either theyre smuggling
guns you moron! No-one signs on for that kind of business without expecting
trouble sooner or later. No-ones forcing them to do what they do. They
made their choice..." He stood, brushing down his trousers. "Its
time you made yours."
***
Some distance
away, Ploovo was paying careful attention to a report being delivered to him
by one of his agents. Ploovo wasnt, contrary to popular opinion, an idiot.
It was true that on occasion his greed got the better of his common sense, but
no-one stayed alive or successful for long in Ploovos business without
being careful. One of the single most overriding factors in his success so far
was that his enemies had a nasty habit of underestimating him, a habit which
he was quite content to exploit whenever possible. As was routine in his organisation,
a careful watch was kept on all new employees until their credentials had been
suitably established. Ploovo could afford competent watchers, and the news of
Kesslers association with Kerrigan had been noted and reported on. This
in itself caused little suspicion, some digging had revealed little of note
in Kerrigans background. He was a minor smuggler and trader with few connections
that mattered. But todays meeting with the five nameless strangers had
him mildly worried, for several reasons. Firstly, he didnt like his employees
associating with people he didnt know. That was the second problem too.
He had no idea who these strangers were. By their dress and mannerisms, they
appeared to be Fringers, yet they were completely unknown to any of Ploovos
people, and after having them followed back to their ships and having data searches
performed on their crafts registrations, he was still none the wiser.
All appeared to have suitably shady pasts, according to the official records,
yet Ploovo had never heard of any of them. He didnt trust official records.
It was unofficial records that he relied on, and none of these five seemed to
have any. That worried him. He should have heard of them if their records were
as dubious as they appeared to be. He supposed that Kerrigan could have merely
been introducing Kessler to some criminal associates, but he couldnt shake
the feeling that something was wrong. Ploovo didnt like the feeling of
not having the upper hand. After a moments hesitation, he reached for
his communicator.
"Quarrel? Get me Karrde. Its important."
***
Today was
the day. Kessler had been paid his advance and was waiting for the shipment
to be loaded into the Corels Dream when things took an unexpected turn
for the worse. At noon precisely, four repulsorlift trucks arrived at Docking
Bay 33B bearing his cargo. This had been more or less anticipated. The presence
of the speeder containing Ploovo himself had not.
The crimeboss extricated his mass from the vehicle with some difficulty and,
wiping his brow with a sweat stained handkerchief, looked up at the cockpit
of the Dream. Kessler decided it would not be wise to keep him waiting. With
more than a little trepidation, he buckled on his gunbelt and descended the
boarding ramp to see what warranted a personal visit from the Fat Man himself.
"Whats up, Ploovo? You could have just sent one of your men to give
me the jump co-ordinates."
Ploovo smiled unctuously. "A slight change of plan, Kessler. Elgin here
will be accompanying you on this flight. Hell be co-piloting you."
Kessler blinked, confused. "Elgin?"
A small mountain range in vaguely humanoid form unfolded itself from the back
of Ploovos speeder. It had a gun. On closer inspection, it turned out
to be a Blastech E-11 laser carbine, but Kessler strongly suspected it was mostly
there for show. Elgin looked like the kind of person who might use a blaster
to gently stir the remains of whomever hed just beaten into a bloody pulp,
but not the kind of person whod gotten used to ideas like "safety
catches" or "aimed shots". He looked like the type of person
who regarded blaster burns as being something that only happened to other people.
He didnt look like someone whod mastered the art of stepping over
a hatchway without bruising his knuckles, much less someone who was supposed
to be capable of handling the controls of a starship.
Kessler looked at Ploovo. He seemed serious. "My co-pilot?"
"Thats right."
Kessler looked at Elgin again. Elgin smiled. He had teeth like a row of broken
bottles and beady little black eyes that glittered evilly from deep below a
massive forehead. He was a walking stereotype. Kessler couldnt even begin
to determine where Ploovo had found him. Pilot he most certainly was not. "And
he has actual flight experience, of course?"
"Lets just say," Ploovo drawled, "That his particular field
of expertise is escort missions. Hes very good at watching things, making
sure no harm comes to them."
Kessler began to get a very bad feeling, but was careful to mask his reaction.
"Thats funny Ploovo, because I was under the impression thats
what you were paying me for."
"No such thing as being overprotective where ones investments are
concerned, Kessler."
"So whos here to protect me from him?"
"Elgin, say hello to Captain Kessler."
Elgin ambled good naturedly around the speeder, reached out and removed Kesslers
blaster from its holster. Kessler didnt argue.
"Nice gun" Elgin rumbled. Then he twisted the barrel into a new and
infinitely more interesting shape before handing it back to him.
"Youll be taking the cargo to a rendezvous at these co-ordinates,
Kessler" said Ploovo, handing the stunned spacer a dataslug. "Once
there, youll be given your final destination. Safe trip." Ploovo
climbed back into his speeder as the trucks began to unload their crates into
the Corels Dreams cargo hatch.
Kessler had a very bad feeling about this.
He was
an hour into his flight and deep into hyperspace and still hadnt managed
to get off a signal to Kerrigan regarding his destination with Elgins
brooding presence hovering over him. Things were not going according to plan.
The entire plot was now badly derailed, there was no way Kerrigans people
could make it to any intercept without knowing where the intercept was going
to be. As well as that, Kessler was going to have be very careful that he played
things straight with the massive Elgin shadowing his every move. Co-pilot, my
ass! Hes here to watch me, plain and simple. Either something rattled
Ploovo or hes more naturally suspicious than anyone gave him credit for.
Either way, the original plan was sunk, and Kessler was going to have to play
it by ear, hope he could glean some useful information from the rendezvous with
the rest of Ploovos smugglers.Elgin wasnt the talkative type either.
He seemed to have a Masters Degree in Advanced Intimidation, however.
The way he just watched
you all the time was very unnerving and he seemed to be immune to conversation.
It had felt like a long trip.
The Dream emerged from hyperspace at the designated co-ordinates into a small
fleet of light transports. Three other YT-1300s and a Medium Transport
idled, guarded by two Skipray Blastboats and four T-Wings. There was, of course,
no sign of Kerrigan and Co.
"Corels Dream, this is Mandalore Star. Prep your navcomputer to plot
a course for the Denubis System and open a datalink to receive further instructions.
Well be leaving as soon as the Indigo Prime shows up."
Kessler keyed the communicator. "Roger, Mandalore. Setting co-ordinates
now. Dream out."
The Denubis System? What the hell was the deal with that? Kessler was pretty
sure that it was somewhere in Imperial Orthodoxy space, except that didnt
make sense. Supreme Moff Babunes IO was an exceptionally well equipped
organisation, and certainly didnt need the kind or amount of weapons that
Ploovo was capable of supplying. A few seconds later, the navcomputer had the
co-ordinates and began to compute a safe course. It seemed that Denubis was
technically outside the borders of IO space, but close enough that no-one was
likely to argue with Babunes fleets if they chose to exploit its resources.
Technically however, it was just inside the Dendrite Sector, and therefore inviolable
by treaty arrangements. Something strange was going on. Perhaps this was only
another rendezvous point and their real destination was somewhere different
altogether?
He opened up the data file the Mandalore Star had transmitted and began to read.
His instructions were to proceed to Denubis III and put down at a certain grid
co-ordinate. There they would be met by persons unknown and their cargo would
be collected. After the transfer was complete, they were to go their separate
ways. Easy in, easy out. He settled down to wait for the signal to leave.
Later, Kessler had time to think about what happened next. He supposed that
there must be people out there for whom things always went according to plan.
Speculating about these mythical people for whom life held few, if any, nasty
surprises would keep him occupied for some time over the future course of his
life, but he could never figure out why he never seemed to be one of them.
Kessler noticed a brief flicker on his threat display as a red blip popped in
and out of existence, then two yellow dots appeared dangerously close to the
Mandalore Star. The Mandalore Star exploded a split second later and Kesslers
small universe went to hell almost instantly.
Directly ahead he could clearly see the gutted debris of the outer shell of
the stricken Medium Transport, space crisscrossed by bright emerald green streaks
of laser fire as three of the escorting T-Wings were destroyed in moments. Fresh
red blips flickered into and out of life across the board and more yellow missile
indicators appeared. Heavy Rockets?
Kessler had the engines online and at maximum power before the missile warning
alarm had even begun to warble. Elgin, returning from the cargo bay, was bowled
off his feet by the Dreams sudden surge of acceleration.
"Kessler! What are you trying to pull?"
"Hold onto something!" Kessler screamed while coaxing every erg of
speed out of his ships tortured engines he possibly could. Two heavy Rockets
hit the Mandalore
launched at point blank range from a ship that only appeared
on sensors when it fired. TIE Phantoms again, no doubt about it. Two Heavy Rockets
would spread a ship this size over most of this sector, I only pray they werent
going faster than cruising speed when they fired!
Heavy Rockets were deadly against medium starships and dangerous to capital
class ships when fired in numbers. They had reasonably sophisticated tracking
capabilities and once locked on would follow their targets until they ran out
of fuel, at which point theyd self destruct, but they had two limitations.
Their speed was limited by the speed of the ship which launched them. A long
time ago, Kessler had been Commander of Tornado Squadron in the Emperors
Hammer Strike Fleet. Hed flown Spectre Class Assault Missileboats against
the New Republic in the Minos Cluster, and a favourite tactic had been to launch
his Rockets at extreme range, then go to full power and actually overtake his
weapons. Rebel gunners were used to firing directly at incoming bombers, because
they invariably hit incoming missile fire on the way in too, this tactic ensured
that most of his rockets got through defensive fire. None of which was particularly
useful in this particular circumstance, but it did illustrate that Heavy Rockets
could be outrun, depending on the speed of the launch platform.
All of which, by itself, wouldnt be enough to save the Corels Dream
from certain destruction, since shed started to evade from a standing
start and probably couldnt outrun a salvo of rockets given the best circumstances.
But it would give him time, and he was relying on the Heavy Rockets other
design limitation.
The shell of the Mandalore Star filled the cockpit canopy at an alarming rate
as Kessler floored the accelerator. Elgin staggered into the cockpit, bracing
himself on the copilots station in time to see where the ship was heading.
Kessler felt, rather than saw his expression as he squealed LOOK OUT! In panicked
terror, then Kessler pulled the Dream into a savage spiral to duck under and
behind the Mandalore Stars shattered hull. Elgin was thrown off balance
again by the violent manoeuvre and Kessler dimly heard a thud as he hit the
deck somewhere behind him. Told you to hold on, moron.
The RM-40 Heavy Rocket was designed to be fed initial targeting information
by its launch platforms onboard sensors. After firing, it switched to
an optical image recognition tracker to maintain a targeting lock. This had
the advantage of being a totally passive system, so anti missile defences couldnt
rely on transmissions from the warhead itself to track and shoot it down. They
had to activate their own active tracking systems which in turn exposed them
to fire from anti-radar missile systems et cetera. In the event of its optical
tracking system being occluded for any reason, the RM-40 had a backup mass tracking
device, which locked onto the nearest target on the same bearing and of the
same mass as the last known contact with its original target. What this
meant in practical terms was that if you were in the right place at the right
time, and had sufficient warning, you could fool a Heavy Rocket into hitting
something else.
The Corels Dream was tossed around like a cork in a bathtub by two titanic
explosions detonating almost on top of the Dreams rear quarter. The remaining
shell of the Mandalore Star was vapourised in the release of energies from the
further two Rockets which had impacted on her tortured hull. The Dreams
shields were wiped out in an instant, but Kessler wasnt wasting any more
time now hed evaded the immediate danger. There was a brief flicker of
pseudomotion, and the Corels Dream jumped to lightspeed and escape.
***
Preacher
this is Jackal. Things are not going to go according to plan.
What do you mean?
The principle failed to make contact prior to departure, yet sources indicate
that he did depart as planned. Its now impossible to make the intercept
as initially proposed.
This is not good, Jackal, Do you suspect that the subject has been compromised?
Possibly, but we have a high degree of likelihood that there was simply some
unforeseen security measure that prevented contact from being made as planned.
I believe the subject is still reliable, security-wise.
You believe? Thats not exactly inspiring is it?
No matter. We have a backup plan, but were unable to implement it just
yet. We should be back on track within a day at the most. The operation has
been delayed, nothing more serious than that.
I hope for your sake youre right about that. We cant afford failure
on this, Jackal.
Relax, Preacher. Have I ever failed you yet?
Theres a first time for everything, Jackal. Report back in one day. Make
sure Snake and Wolf send me their own reports too. Preacher out.
Three
Kessler
forced his white-knuckled hands to release the hyperdrive jump lever and control
surfaces, then remembered to start breathing again. His hands were trembling,
he badly needed a cup of java. That had been far too close.
A groan of pain from behind reminded him that he wasnt alone. He turned
to see Elgin stretched out partially conscious on the deck of the companionway
from the cockpit. For a second he considered going back to the cargo bay and
breaking one of the blaster carbines out of the storage containers. It would
be easy to deal with the huge humanoid in this state
He shook his head. Kessler had murdered defenceless people before, a long time
ago. Hed never developed a taste for it. Some of his dreams were particularly
disturbing, and he had no wish to add to them.
Sighing, he broke open the medical locker and took an emergency case out, then
walked aft to examine the comatose giant. Elgin had hit his head on the bulkhead
hatch when hed fallen over following the blast from the rockets hitting
the wreck of the Mandalore Star. Kessler found it hard to believe that a mere
collision with a hatch could have given a mass of bone like Elgins head
much trouble, then he saw the dent in the hatch and quickly revised his opinion.
There was quite a lot of blood, but judging by the low moaning noises he was
making, Elgin was still alive and breathing, if not totally lucid. Kessler selected
a hypo and loaded it with a general purpose painkiller, then took a quick blood
sample from the sleeping giants neck to check that it wouldnt poison
his alien metabolism. The indicator on the hypo turned green, and he pressed
the injector to Elgins neck and fired a dose. He thought about Elgins
body mass for a second, then cranked up the dial and gave him another dose,
just to be sure. Packing away the hypo, he pulled out a sterile swab and cleaned
away the worst of the blood, then covered the wound with a Bacta spray and finally
applied a bandage to prevent the Bacta from being interfered with until it had
time to set. Wiping his hands, he stood and packed away the medical kit, then
realising he couldnt move Elgin to a more comfortable resting position
even he tried, he headed aft to make some java.
He was on his second mug when Elgin appeared in the hatchway, slightly unsteady
on his feet, one hand holding onto his bandaged head, but the other holding
his gun. Kessler noted with some satisfaction that at least it wasnt pointed
at him.
The large humanoid appeared confused.
"You didnt take my gun?"
Kessler shook his head, sipping at his java.
"You did this?" he asked, indicating his head wound.
"I patched it up. You did the damage yourself."
Elgin considered this for a second, then slowly holstered his sidearm. "There
enough there for a second mug?" he asked, indicating the pot of java on
the Dejarik table.
Kessler nodded.
Elgin sat himself down opposite Kessler and helped himself to the pot. The two
sat in silence for a second or two, then Elgin asked the question Kessler had
been waiting for.
"What happened out there?"
Kessler shrugged. "Im not really sure. We were attacked, I think
by the same people who jumped me on my last run for your boss."
"Ploovos not my boss."
Kessler raised an eyebrow. "You mean youre a contract worker or you
work for someone other than Ploovo?"
Elgin deigned to reply. Had he spoken out of hurt pride at being considered
a mere underling? Did his silence indicate that it was supposed to be a secret
that Ploovo wasnt his master? No matter. Another piece of information
to be stored away for use at a later date.
"Anyway, whoever they were, they took out four of our ships almost instantly.
They werent pirates, there was no profit motive in what they were doing.
We were simply targets to them, to be eliminated as quickly as possible."
Elgin pondered this for a second. "Any ideas who attacked us?"
"I wasnt too sure the first time it happened, but now I know whose
territory were delivering these weapons to Ive got a pretty good
idea. You ever heard of the Imperial Orthodoxy?"
Elgin nodded.
"Well given that I havent seen any bill of sale for these weapons
yet, its unlikely were selling our cargo to the official representatives
in that sector. So Id guess that our buyers are up to no good in IO space
"
"So the Imperial Orthodoxy might take objection to our supplying their
subversives with weapons
" Elgin continued.
"And that leaves little room for speculation as to whom our mystery attackers
might be. There arent many organisations out here who can afford TIE Phantoms,
and it doesnt make sense for the EH to be taking any objections to our
business out here." He gave Elgin a strange look. "Dont take
this the wrong way, but I find it a little startling to hear you using words
like "subversives" when "bad guys" would suffice."
Elgin grinned again, exposing those unsettling teeth of his. "Not too many
of you human runts like to think that there could be any kind of intelligence
behind a face and body like this. I sometimes find it useful to maintain that
charade."
Kessler at least had the good grace to blush. Old Imperial prejudices against
aliens had gotten the better of him again. "Sorry about that."
"Dont worry about it." Elgin seemed to be used to the circumstances.
"So, our next concern is to decide how were going to play it from
here. Were on our way to the delivery point because that was the fastest
way to get us out in one piece, but we already know our initial rendezvous was
compromised. Im not so sure our delivery point hasnt been also."
Elgin shook his head slowly. "Im not too sure about that. The only
ones who knew about the delivery point were Ploovo, his distributor and the
captain of the Mandalore Star. The information was kept secret specifically
to avoid this sort of compromise. Given that the Mandalore Star was apparently
the first ship hit, I think we can safely rule out her captain of any complicity."
"Good point. Which leaves Ploovo himself or his distributors. Theres
always the possibility that the bad guys just have some really good slicers
and Intel ops working for them, too" Kessler added. "Although theres
another possibility
"
Elgin gave him a sharp look, interested.
"We were waiting for another ship to turn up before we left. The captain
of the Mandalore mentioned it when we arrived. The Indigo Prime he called it.
Suspicious that it didnt show. Youd have thought that if our attackers
were so well informed about our plans theyd have waited for everyone to
show before they began their attack. As it happens they executed their plan
just after I arrived."
Elgin nodded. "So it might look as if the captain of the Indigo Prime,
whomever that may be, sold us out. You may have something there. Of course,
if we can put two and two together like this, you can bet that whoever attacked
us isnt going to be keen for us to be reporting back to Ploovo with our
conclusions."
"Yeah, and given the fact that youve been sent to tag along with
me, Ploovos first reaction is likely to be that Im the rat. So I
guess wed better be very careful about who we meet before we can get back
to Nar Shadda and report our findings to the Fat Man."
Elgin set down his cup carefully. "We still dont know what were
going to run into at the delivery point. Since were already committed
to arriving, it might be a good idea to review our safety options before we
get there
"
Kessler nodded. "Well the Dream is about as basic a ship as they come.
The only upgrade Ive installed over the standard factory specification
is a single Taim and Bak Laser Cannon in the dorsal turret and a Rectenna to
improve her early warning capabilities. Apart from that, shes exactly
like she was when she came out of the box."
Elgin sighed dramatically. "No quad lasers? Concussion missiles? Jammers?
Countermeasures? Anything?"
Kessler grinned broadly, stuck a cigar in his mouth and patted down his pockets
for his battered old steel lighter. "Nope. This is the Corel's Dream, not
the Millenium Falcon."
"If we get out of this alive, Im charging Ploovo extra."
"It gets worse than that, too. While you were out I ran a systems check.
The shield capacitor was damaged before we made the jump to lightspeed. We still
have shields, but that blast from those rockets took them down to twelve percent
integrity, and with a damaged capacitor, I cant recharge them. So once
they go down, theyre going to stay down until I can get a new capacitor."
"You cant repair it?"
"No. Its fried. Needs total replacement."
Elgin mulled this over for a second. "Couldnt you swap over a laser
capacitor from the weapons systems? Would that work?"
"Sure, but Im not going to."
Elgin waited. Eventually he got tired of watching Kessler puff away at his cigar.
"Why not?"
"Because if Im going to die out here, its not going to be because
I wasnt shooting back. Twelve percent shield integrity in one of these
things is as good as a hundred percent integrity in a TIE Avenger. We can spend
all day dodging enemy fire but if we cant shoot back were screwed.
Its just a matter of time."
Elgin sighed and refilled his mug from the pot. "Well I guess Id
better brush up on my turret gunnery skills. Its been a while, but Ill
see what I can do."
"Good man. You might want to get up there soon and make sure the turret
works properly first though. Except for the day I installed it, the turrets
always been slaved to forward fire mode. It might be a little stiff."
Elgin stalked off to the turret access hatch, muttering comments about Kesslers
intelligence, manhood and ancestry to himself. Amused, Kessler watched him go,
then poured out a fresh mug of java and went to the cockpit. He seated himself
at the navigation station and ran a swift analysis of their course and ETA.
Then he did a reference check on a number of variables. The results were not
encouraging. Sitting back in the seat, he lifted his leg and stubbed out his
cigar on the sole of a boot, then sipped some java and considered his options.
"Holy shit, Kessler! When was the last time you had the gimbals serviced
on this piece of crap?"
Grinning despite himself, Kessler reached over to the pilots seat and
picked up the headset. "Well, its been a while
"
"What? Like never?"
"Well that would more accurate, yes."
"This piece of shit is so stiff it couldnt move fast enough to track
the Death Star, let alone a TIE Phantom!"
"Well, keep playing with it, it should loosen up after a while."
"Captain Kessler, with all due respect to the fact that youre the
owner of this wonderful ship, might I suggest that youre an overconfident
moron whose appalling lack of concern for even basic maintenance is putting
my precious ass in extreme danger, and if we get out of this alive, Im
going to take great pleasure in smashing your teeth in?"
"I have some more bad news by the way. If those IO guys know where were
going, the Phantoms are fast enough to get there before us. They could also
easily call ahead and alert anyone to be waiting for us when we arrive, so all
in all, I really hope you can get that turret moving properly. Good luck, we
arrive in fifteen minutes."
Kessler chuckled and disengaged the speakers to cut off the sudden stream of
invective. When youre in the shit up to your neck, theres nothing
more satisfying than sharing it with someone whos metaphorically shorter
than you.
***
"So
what the hell happened? Any ideas?"
Kerrigan shook his head. "Plenty of theories, but we cant know for
certain until he contacts us. If he contacts us."
Kerrigans group were clustered in the communal area of the Far Trader.
Like the Corels Dream, it was a YT-1300, but with many more optional extras
installed than Kesslers humble ship ever would. Wreaths of smoke hung
in the air from the various narcotic stimulants being smoked by those present,
making the area look and smell like a smugglers den, which just goes to
show that sometimes a simile can be more accurate than anyone gives it credit
for.
Angel muttered something under her breath without looking up. Kerrigans
nose wrinkled in distaste. "Speak up, Angel, we didnt quite catch
that."
"I said: "It wouldnt surprise me if this Kessler
turned out to be really working for Ploovo." It wouldnt be the first
time your intelligence has left me and mine hanging in the breeze either, Kerrigan.
I swore I wouldnt work with you again after Coruscant. I hope Im
not going to regret changing my mind."
Kerrigan rolled his eyes theatrically. "Oh please. Angel, you do what youre
told the same as the rest of us. Dont try to dignify the situation by
pretending you have a choice. Anyway, if Kesslers working for Ploovo hes
either much smarter or much more stupid than anyone ever gave him credit for
and that would mean Im not the incredibly perceptive judge of character
that Im famous for being."
"Famous for being able to spot a sucker a mile away, anyway" snorted
D-Day.
"Same difference. Regardless, even if he is working for Ploovo, he knows
exactly squat about you five. All he knows about me is what Ive told him,
so that means Ploovo doesnt know jack shit either. Kesslers one
of lifes rare commodities he actually believes in following the
rules. Ive studied his record, hes playing it on the straight and
narrow with me." Kerrigan rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "The only
explanation is that Ploovos the one weve all misjudged. Its
entirely possible that hes not as dumb as wed all like to believe."
D-Day nodded in agreement. Angel gave him a look of disgust but didnt
offer any further argument.
"So, " D-Day continued. "We basically have to wait for Kessler
to turn up before we get any answers, right?"
"Wrong." Kerrigan stood. "Im not the patient type and I
always plan for every eventuality. Get to your ships and start leaving, everyone
head for our agreed meeting point but go by indirect routes and dont all
leave at the same time. Well meet in two hours. If Colonel Kessler wont
come to us, I cant see any point in hanging around. Lets go get
him."
***
Kessler
took a deep breath and spoke into the headset microphone. "Ten seconds.
You ready?"
"As Ill ever be. The seats too small and the weapons systems
are antiquated but apart from that everythings just great. Thanks for
asking. How are you?"
He ignored the sarcasm and placed his hands on the control surfaces. The single
forward firing laser mounted between the mandibles was armed and charged, Elgins
turret gun was likewise. A lot now depended on luck.
The Corels Dream surged into realspace with no perceptible feeling of
movement. That at least indicated that the repairs on the inertial damping system
were working. He hoped that was a good omen.
He flicked a switch to get the navcomputer working on plotting an escape jump
in case one was needed in a hurry. Hed already prepped the computer to
calculate the base equations required for a jump between Denubis and Nar Shadda,
but failsafes built into the system prevented the navcomputer from initiating
a jump without first taking a sensor fix on the nearby stars to confirm its
actual position matched where it thought it was before plotting the jump. That
would take a few minutes.
Lacking anything else to do, and knowing that if things were going true to form
hed be wasting his time anyway, he began a sensor sweep of the system.
Denubis had five planets. The inner three were rock composites, the outer two
were gas giants. Life was possible on the third planet out from the stellar
primary, and according to the records, there were indigenous humanoids who lived
there in a primitive state, but there wasnt supposed to be any official
colonisation allowed by any of the three major powers adjoining this sector.
Small commercial resource exploitation efforts were allowed, but only because
it would prove impossible to stop them without starting a major conflict here.
The sensors showed very little. Actually, what they didnt show told a
clearer picture. No orbital facilities other than a scattering of what appeared
to be communications satellites. No starship traffic, no electromagnetic activity
other than faint indications of radio traffic localised on a small section of
the planetary surface. Possibly more activity on the far side, but impossible
to tell yet. And of course, no indication of any TIE Phantoms.
"Talk to me Kessler."
"Nothing. This place appears to have been settled by wildcatters. Possibly
an independent commercial venture, but nothing major. No indication that anyones
even seen our arrival."
"How long until we can get out of here?"
"A few minutes until the navcomputer plots the jump, a few hours until
we can conclude our business, deliver our merchandise and get out of here."
The ghost of a smile played over Kesslers lips as he waited for the usual
response from Elgin. He was disappointed.
"I just knew you were going to say that
Okay, lets do it and
get it over with."
Kessler sighed. "Youre no fun Elgin."
"Screw you."
Kessler chuckled. That was more like it. "Just keep your mouth shut and
your eyes open. Just because we cant see them doesnt mean those
V-38s arent there."
"Yeah, yeah
"
Privately, Kessler was pretty sure they were safe for the moment. The suspicious
nature of the Indigo Primes non-arrival at the rendezvous left him in
little doubt that her captain was either in league with, or captured by the
Imperial Orthodoxy. Given how little information hed been given about
the run, Kessler strongly suspected that the captain of the Mandalore Star had
been the only one who knew of their final destination. Since there was currently
not enough of him left to fit into a small matchbox, the IO were unlikely to
be coming by that information anytime soon.
The navcomputer pinged once and he flicked a switch to acknowledge the calculations,
then brought the ship about to head towards Denubis III. He stored the jump
co-ordinates and set the navcomputer to show the landing co-ordinates. These
were superimposed over the map of the planet being gathered by his sensors,
which were in turn plotted over the map of the surface that his astronavigational
computer had in storage. Once a composite had been compiled of all three, he
updated his records with the up to date surface map and studied it for a while.
The landing zone was in an area of dense temperate woodland. Presumably a clearing
existed or had been cut into the forest to allow him to land. The nearest settlement
appeared to be a small starport some 400 miles from his destination. Apart from
its nav beacon he wasnt detecting any active EM impulses from it, so he
assumed it relied on passive orbital satellites for information on nearby space.
Easy in, easy out. It certainly looked that way.
Being careful to keep his speed down to avoid generating any noticeable relativistic
effects, he cruised into the planets upper atmosphere. His destination
was currently in the dark side of the planet, but with the computer locked onto
his landing zone, finding it in the dark wouldnt be difficult. He began
to encounter bad weather as he approached the landing zone, but it slacked off
to a fine drizzle of rain as he narrowed the distance down to the last few miles.
He checked the chronometer. He was half an hour early, but given the nature
of his departure, that couldnt really be helped. He extended the landing
gear and switched on the strobes, illuminating a broad patch of rainswept primal
forest below. After a few seconds, he spotted a small but strong light being
shone in his direction from what appeared to be a clearing at a range of around
a mile. He flicked the landing lights off, then back on again to indicate hed
noticed the signal, then dimmed the floods to avoid blinding his customers,
and brought the Corels Dream in for a perfect landing.
He stripped off his gloves and tucked them into his gunbelt, then checked for
his blaster before remembering that Elgin had already rendered it useless. Shrugging,
he rose from the pilots seat and walked aft, meeting Elgin as he emerged
from the gun turret.
"What now?" The large humanoid asked.
Kessler shrugged. "Not sure. This is my first time. I guess well
just play it by ear, but keep your blaster handy."
Elgin nodded and followed Kessler to the boarding ramp.
Emerging into the rain, they were protected from the downpour by the overhang
of the Dreams saucer section. The weather was wet, but not uncomfortable,
although it was a little too cold for Kesslers tastes. Elgin appeared
not to notice, however. Squinting into the darkness at the tree line, they observed
two figures step from the undergrowth and approach cautiously. One was dressed
in furs and animal hides, the other was wearing a camcloak and a standard issue
Rebel Commando team helmet. He was also carrying a blaster but was so far not
pointing it at anyone. There was something familiar about the mans face,
but Kessler couldnt quite place his identity. At least now it was clear
why the IO werent happy about Ploovos operation. It looked as if
weapons were being supplied to Rebellion-sponsored guerrilla fighters. That
sort of thing made any government twitchy.
The two approached to the foot of the boarding ramp and the presumed Rebel lifted
his free hand to shelter his face from the rain.
"There were supposed to be more of you."
Kessler stuck a cigar into his mouth and made a valiant attempt to light it.
"We ran into problems. The others are dead. Were all youre
getting." Removing the cigar from his mouth, he studied the end in disgust,
gave up trying to light it, and shoved the unlit stogie back into the corner
of his mouth.
The Rebel officer shook his head, droplets of water scattering from the brim
of his helmet. "This wasnt part of the deal. Weve paid for
two shiploads, Karrdes people should be more careful."
Only two shiploads? So that means the others were delivering their cargo elsewhere.
Interesting. Then another thought occurred to him. Karrdes people? What
the hell?
Elgin spoke up in a low bass rumble from behind Kessler. "Getting attacked
by IO Special Ops Squadrons wasnt part of the deal either. Now were
cold, wet and getting more and more pissed off by the minute. Do you want these
damned guns or not, Rebel boy?"
There was something very familiar about the Rebels face that Kessler couldnt
quite place. He got the impression hed seen his face somewhere before,
not in person, on he vid perhaps? An idea occurred to him, he chewed at the
cigar, thinking.
The Rebel turned to the native, who was staring at Elgins huge bulk with
a look of fascination and spoke to him in an unintelligible jabber. The native,
jerked, taken by surprise, and replied in the same language, then nodded once,
and turned to face the forest, raising his hands to his mouth and whistling.
Several figures emerged from the trees, clad in animal skins and furs, shouldering
crossbows and sheathing long knives.
The Rebel turned to address Kessler again. "Okay, captain. Show my people
to your cargo bay and well get you unloaded and on your way."
Kessler nodded to Elgin who shrugged and acquiesced. Pointing to the lead native,
he indicated that he should follow.
Kessler stayed on the boarding ramp and regarded the Rebel officer with a carefully
neutral stare.
"You want to come inside? Its awfully wet out here."
The Rebel smiled. "Thank you, no. Im about as cold and wet as Im
going to get anyway."
Kessler grinned. "Yeah, I guess thats a fact." He let a few
more seconds pass idly before continuing. "So whats the story here?
Oppressed natives rising against Imperial colonialists or something like that?"
The smile didnt waver. "Yes, something like that."
Kessler stood to one side to allow a line of native warriors to pass him into
the Dream. "So the Rebellion decided to lend a hand to help them throw
off the yoke of the evil oppressor?"
"Now, captain; whatever gave you the impression that I was a Rebel?"
Kessler returned the smile.
"Interesting choice of words, captain. "The rebellion decided
"
Most people would say "Alliance" or "New Republic". I find
you can usually tell a lot about people by what they choose to say, or what
they choose not to say, as the case may be."
This guy was sharp, whoever he was. Kessler decided there was nothing to risk
by letting him have the point. "Youre pretty perceptive, allow me
to introduce myself. Colonel Kyle Kessler, TIE Corps Wing Commander, retired."
He offered his hand.
Still smiling, the Rebel soldier shook his outstretched hand. "Pleased
to meet you Colonel. TIE Corps you say? Ex-Emperors Hammer I take it?"
"Correct. Lately of Wing X, Imperial Star Destroyer Challenge, but before
that I was on the Devastator up until Endor."
The mans expression shifted slightly, Kessler couldnt read it, but
he seemed to be assessing something. "Endor? Its a small universe,
Colonel. I was there too. I realise this may be a delicate subject, but you
have my commiserations. Im happy you survived the experience."
Little pieces of information were slowly slotting into place, but Kessler still
couldnt get the big picture. "You were a fighter pilot?"
"No, my job was more advisory and planning related than that."
The final piece slid into place and Kessler suddenly realised who he was talking
to. Holy shit. This is General Crix Madine.
The first crates of blaster rifles were being unloaded from the Corels
Dream, and Kessler was forced to clear the boarding ramp to allow the men to
proceed. The revelation that he was talking to the Rebellions foremost
expert on guerrilla warfare had taken him by surprise, and he used the momentary
interruption to cover his shock.
Madine paused to allow the first load of crates to pass, then turned to Kessler
again. "What made you retire from the TIE Corps, Colonel? You dont
look as old as all that."
"Well, lets just say that I was getting disillusioned with the way
certain things were going." Clearly he was going to have to be careful
with what kind of information he gave away here. "Look, obviously Im
not an Imperial officer any more, but dont expect me to say too much about
my background. There are still people serving with the Emperors Hammer
that I care about, and Im not going to say anything that might compromise
their safety. Are we clear?"
Madine nodded. "Absolutely, Colonel. I cant really blame you, Id
say the same thing in your position. Still, you seem like a decent man. Im
curious to hear your opinions on why you served the Empire. Surely youre
aware of some of the more
extreme measures that the Empire has undertaken
in the past?"
This was an old topic of conversation. Hed been over it countless times
before and well versed in all the old arguments. "The Rebellion isnt
exactly innocent on that score either. There were two million civilian construction
workers on the second Death Star when it was destroyed, and have you seen the
surface of Endor lately? A few billion tons of debris hitting the surface of
the moon didnt leave much alive larger than a bacteria you know?"
"Regrettable, but necessary under the circumstances, you must admit?"
"Right. Regrettable but necessary Isnt that what you
lot accuse us of saying to excuse our policies?"
"Colonel, I think the difference is that we usually mean it when we use
that phrase."
Kessler sighed. "Look, the Emperors Hammer isnt the Empire.
They dont subscribe to the Emperor or Tarkins more extreme policies
and theyre not the humansonly club that Palpatines Empire
used to be."
Madine acknowledged that much. "Its true that the Hammer is one of
the more enlightened Imperial factions out here on the Rim, yes. But you cant
deny that its essentially a military dictatorship."
Kessler shrugged. "So what? Its a strong decisive government. People
are used to strong leadership in the Empire, the Reb
sorry the New
Republic wouldnt have half the problems it does if there was someone at
the top who could give an order and have it carried out without having to be
debated by a dozen different committees first."
Apparently a sensitive issue, Madine winced. "Its true that the Senate
takes an inordinately long time to rubberstamp any decisions these days, but
I guess thats the principle difference between you and us. Our system
guarantees moderate government but takes a long time to respond to dangers and
new situations. Yours is capable of responding quickly to emergencies and making
quick decisions, but has no safeguards against another dictator like Palpatine
taking over."
That much was true at least. "Thats the thing with the Empire, I
guess. Its only as evil as the man leading it. Your war wasnt with
the Empire, it was with the Emperor. But now hes dead, what are you still
fighting for?"
Madine frowned. "Youre full of surprises Colonel. I dont think
Ive ever heard it put quite like that before." He was silent for
a few seconds, deep in thought. "I suppose its all come down to a
difference in ideologies now. Maybe weve been fighting for so long weve
lost track of exactly what it was we were fighting against?"
"Maybe youre right. But is that any reason to continue the killing?"
Madine regarded Kessler with a strange look. "Youre a very complex
man, Colonel Kessler. I only wish that more Imperial officers were so thoughtful.
Its a shame you felt compelled to retire."
"Well, I had my reasons. Youre not so bad yourself, General Madine."
Madines expression didnt change. "What gave me away?"
Kessler removed his cigar and spat into the rain. "Just little things,
I half recognised you from the wanted posters anyway."
"You realise that I should probably kill you now that youre aware
of my identity?"
Kessler indicated his empty holster. "Your choice, but I cant stop
you. As you can see, Im unarmed and completely at your mercy."
The last crate of weapons was unloaded and Elgin reappeared by Kesslers
side. Madines glance flickered over the large humanoid, noting the heavy
blaster pistol at his belt, then shifted back to Kessler.
"Will you give me your word that you wont mention my name to anyone?"
A slow smile spread across Kesslers face. "General, are you actually
appealing to my sense of honour?"
"If Im any judge of character, yes. The alternative is something
Id rather not contemplate, and Im sure you wouldnt enjoy it
either."
For not the first time this evening, Kessler wondered how things might have
worked out if hed met Madine without the barrier of their different causes
separating them. "You drive a hard bargain, General. I accept."
Madine smiled and extended his hand. "Its been a pleasure meeting
you, Colonel. Dont take any unnecessary risks, and please accept my advice
and dont return to your former occupation. Id hate to have to kill
you one day."
Kessler accepted the outstretched hand and shook it vigourously. "The pleasure
was all mine. I probably shouldnt say this, but good luck with your little
operation here. I never liked Supreme Moff Babune or the Imperial Orthodoxy
anyway."
Madine laughed. "Thank you, Colonel, have a safe trip, and goodnight."
Then he turned and disappeared into the gloom.
Elgin nudged Kessler in the back. "Who was that?"
"None of your damn business. Come on, lets get out of here and get
back to Nar Shadda. Ploovo owes me money."
***
"Getting
a good signal from the tracker, Kerry. I have his grid co-ordinates now. Wait,
hes powered up his repulsors, looks like hes getting ready to leave."
"Okay D-Day. Well intercept once he breaks clear of the atmosphere.
Maybe we can salvage something from this mess after all."
Angel kept her eyes staring firmly ahead and her hands on the flight controls
of the Mommas Pride, but she spoke in a friendly, conversational tone.
"Nice, Kerry. Real nice. Piece of advice for you though you ever
put a tracking on device on me or my ship and youll be so dead itll
have been a waste of time ever being born."
"Angel, would I ever do something like that to you?"
"Not if you enjoy living you wont. Just a friendly warning, from
one pro to another."
Kerrigan didnt reply. He knew she meant it.
"So anyway," she continued. "Looks suspiciously like your little
friend went ahead and made the delivery as per Ploovos orders. You still
so sure hes on the straight and level?"
"Just shut up and drive, Angel."
She cackled gleefully. It was true however. Kessler had a lot of explaining
to do.
***
Kessler
studied the sensors with more than a little trepidation. Despite the attenuation
caused by the atmosphere of Denubis III, it was clear that were at least two
ships in close orbit above, and their intentions were unclear. It was possible
that they werent aware of his location, but lately he was having trouble
believing in coincidences. He keyed the headset microphone.
"Elgin, we may have company. Cant tell who they are but keep that
laser cannon charged, we may need it."
"Oh great. Got any more good news?"
"Sure. Your mother says the tests are negative."
"Screw you, Kessler."
"Funny, thats what she said."
Amusing as taunting Elgin was, they had a real problem. The Dream wasnt
going to be very responsive until theyd cleared the atmosphere, and they
couldnt go to hyperspace until they cleared the planets gravity
well. Their unidentified friends up above were ideally placed to stage an ambush
and his shields were still effectively useless. The range of options available
to him were severely limited. Again.
The distance to the two ships narrowed and suddenly three other faint radar
echoes were picked up. Smaller targets, probably fighters, but hard to tell
exactly what at this range. Radar resolution improved suddenly as he broke clear
of the cloud layer and his computer positively identified the two larger contacts
as a YT1300 and a Firespray attack ship. Kerrigan? How the hell? He could probably
guess what the three smaller contacts were.
He couldnt allow them to make contact with him, not with Elgin onboard.
He was fairly sure that the humanoid alien firmly believed that Kessler was
on the straight and narrow. Any contact with Kerrigans little group now
would ruin whatever chances he had of taking advantage of that belief.
It was make your mind up time.
He made the call.
"Elgin, we have a welcoming party waiting in orbit. Im going to try
to give them something else to shoot at. Strap in tight, its going to
get rough."
"No problem, be careful."
The Corels Dream flipped over and dived back down into Denubis IIIs
atmosphere, racing towards the surface and picking up speed. At an altitude
of three thousand metres, he levelled out and opened the throttle. The ship
shook with a resounding boom as she broke the sound barrier, but still the speed
increased. She wasnt the most aerodynamic design in the galaxy and atmospheric
resistance would make a significant impact on her top atmospheric speed, but
she could still maintain a fair percentage of her maximum velocity for short
periods of time. The leading edges of the Dreams hull began to glow a
dull red as heat generated by air friction built up. Within a minute, he was
travelling at three times the speed of sound and still accelerating. He was
forced to switch on his terrain following radar just in case any inconvenient
mountains got in the way, and that, coupled with the massive shockwaves generated
by his passage guaranteed that the local spaceport, now only 250 miles distant,
was sure to have detected his presence.
He had a fairly good idea of what the Imperial Orthodoxy was trying to achieve
here. Likely they were trying to establish a low level foothold in the Dendrite
Sector, but by interplanetary treaty, the Sector was forbidden to government
colonisation. So they tried to get in the back door by encouraging local corporations
to set up mining freeholds, with the condition that the resources extracted
be sold only to Orthodoxy buyers. In return, Orthodoxy forces unofficially provided
protection from the more lawless elements of Dendrite Sector society. It wasnt
a bad plan, and given how desperate for resources the IOs massive shipbuilding
programme was, it was the only way to support their industries short of outright
warfare. Somehow, the Rebellion had gotten wind of the technical treaty violation
and had decided to do something about it.
There was a lot more to it than that, of course. The Rebellion and the Imperial
Orthodoxy werent the only two players in the picture. The IO was technically
allied to the Emperors Hammer, although there was little trust between
the two dictatorships. Should the Rebellion move in against the IOs operations
in force, the IO would be able to claim Treaty Violation, since technically,
they werent officially involved in any mining operations. The IO war machine
would undoubtedly spring into action, claiming far more systems in "defence
against the Rebel aggressors" than they had been willing to exploit by
stealth. The Rebellion would be unable to allow such an action to go unanswered,
and would respond in kind. The Emperors Hammer might or might not honour
its treaty obligations to the Orthodoxy, and deploy its own forces.
Or it might wait for the fighting to settle, then take advantage of its weakened
neighbours and expand its own borders.
Whichever way you looked at it, it would be messy.
So the Rebels, constrained by treaty themselves, and unwilling to upset the
delicate political balance in the Sector, had sent in Crix Madine to engineer
as much trouble as possible, using smuggling networks like Talon Karrde and
Ploovos organisation to supply the hardware. Smoothly, efficiently, and
above all quietly. A very elegant solution.
None of which, however, Kessler thought, gets you one step closer to getting
your Trading License. Keep your eye on the ball, Kessler. This isnt your
problem anymore you idiot.
A pair of radar contacts appeared on his scope, Skipray Blastboats launching
from the starport to investigate. That figured. Such forces were what would
be expected of a small commercially owned security force. They werent
his real concern however, they wouldnt be able to catch him in time anyway.
What he was concerned about was his would-be ambushers. Were they willing to
blow their cover by matching his speed and exposing themselves to detection
by the authorities here? He checked his sensors. Apparently they were, and their
intercept course was bringing them more or less directly over the starport.
If I was a jittery corporate security controller, that would look awfully like
an attack profile to me.
Someone at the starport appeared to have made a decision. The two Blastboats
disengaged from Kessler's tail as his course took him further away from the
starport, and they vectored over to intercept his other pursuers instead. Cheers,
suckers!
"Make sure youre strapped in, Elgin. Its going to get very
uncomfortable for a few minutes." Without waiting to acknowledge Elgins
reply, he disengaged the engine safety interlocks, switched off the repulsorlifts
and engaged the sublight drive.
There was a brief second of peace, then the Corels Dream leaped ahead
with the deafening roar of her Ion Engine threatening to tear the ship apart.
She blasted through the thick atmosphere of Denubis III, glowing white hot at
her leading edges and threatening to shake herself to her component parts with
the stress of her acceleration. Clutching onto the controls with both hands,
Kessler fought to control her rapid ascent.
"Kessler you kriffin psycho, what the hell are you doing?"
"Shut up and hold on, Elgin."
Gradually, the turbulence ceased as the ship cleared the atmosphere and he eased
open the throttle even further. His pursuers were too far behind to have a hope
of catching him now. Within seconds they were clear of the gravity well, and
he threw the hyperdrive motivator lever.
With a flicker of pseudomotion they were gone.
***
"Dammit,
hes away! Hes got some balls this friend of yours, Kerrigan. Ive
never seen anyone engage sublight drive in atmosphere before."
"Never mind him now, D-Day. We know where hes going, or at least
well know where hes gone once he drops back into realspace."
"What about the Blastboats? Should I take them out?"
"Dont be an idiot, were on the same side! No, disengage and
well meet up with the Rodo brothers and get out of here. Better if they
dont get an ID on us."
"Understood. See you later."
D-Day Daytons Firespray Class Attack Ship peeled off and swept about to
the side of the Mommas Pride, heading away from the two Blastboats in
an obvious retreat. Angels ship did the same. The two corporate ships
would probably follow them at a discreet distance to ensure the retreat was
genuine, but if they had any sense, wouldnt pursue further than they could
return to their starport safely in case this was all an elaborate feint.
"Momma, this is Rodo One. Were watching the landing point as ordered
and our sensors are picking up definite traces of small arms fire. Instructions?"
Kerrigan nervously chewed his lip, thinking furiously. "Its probably
the guerrillas making sure the shipment works" he told his three mercenary
Y-Wingers. "Waste them. Maximum unnecessary use of force, then get yourselves
out of there. Were drawing the picket ships away, you should have plenty
of time."
"We read you loud and clear. This wont take a minute."
Angel sat haughtily in the pilots seat, chewing a little dreamweed. "Straight
and narrow, huh? Studied his record did you? Plays by the rules does he?"
"Shut up and drive, Angel. Well sort mister Kessler out when we get
back to Nar Shadda. Dont worry about that."
***
Madine
sat by the stream and watched the Sons of Caradoc playing with their new toys.
Bright bursts of blaster fire illuminated the night throughout the clearing,
clearly visible even through the rain. The joyful whoops of the warriors reminded
him of children. In many ways they were children, actually. They were a charmingly
unsophisticated people, brutally honest and fiercely defensive of their code
of honour. They could be as petulant as children too, but they loved their land
with a raw animal passion that he couldnt help but be sympathetic to.
The InGen Corporations work here was a violation of everything they held
sacred about their lands.
He had enough decency to at least feel vaguely guilty about the cynical way
in which their holy war to cleanse their lands of the invaders was being manipulated
by the Republic; but he was pragmatic enough to realise that it was simply a
case of common interests. The Denubii wanted their world rid of InGen, the Republic
wanted their world rid of InGen, it was that simple.
The first detonation took him completely by surprise, but he was far enough
away to avoid serious injury. Nevertheless, he was knocked over by the immense
blast and he felt a sting of pain in his left arm as something tore through
his camcloak. His first thought was that the crates of weapons had been booby-trapped,
but then he heard the whine of proton torpedoes and knew he had to get under
cover fast. Without a second thought, he took a gulping breath and dived into
the stream.
It seemed to go on forever, but he forced himself to stay under and endure the
concussions and the strangely muffled screams; but when his burning lungs could
take no more, he risked breaking the surface. There was very little fire. The
blasts had blown out any flames and the forest was already soaking wet, but
smoke obscured everything further than ten or so metres away. Broken and battered
trees lay scattered like matchsticks, the ground churned and seared by the force
of the explosions. He called out: "Artuk? Cormac? Anyone?"
His only reply was the sizzling and popping of superheated rocks cooling in
the patient rain.
He was going to have to move out, and soon. He glanced at his arm, the flesh
was shredded around the elbow, probably by a splinter from a shattered tree.
Numbly, he staggered away through the trees, the rain and shadows enfolding
him in their protective embrace. There were other tribes out there, somewhere.
Perhaps InGen had violated their lands too, enslaved their people. It was a
long shot, but it was all he had left.
Four
The Corels
Dream settled down gently with a hiss as her repulsors disengaged. Kessler heaved
a sigh of relief and removed his headset. Theyd made it. Standing up,
he went aft and met Elgin by the boarding ramp. The large alien regarded him
with a calculating look. Sensing he was working up to saying something, Kessler
waited patiently for him to speak.
"Youre an asshole, Kessler, but youre a good kind of asshole
to have around in a tight spot. I owe you a face full of broken teeth for some
of the stunts you pulled, but the fact that Im still around to pulverise
your scrawny little human ass is because of you, I guess. So I think Ill
forego the pleasure this time."
Kessler smiled. Hed come to enjoy Elgins company over the short
period of time theyd been together. Of course, that was largely down to
the fact that he was so easy to upset, but he wisely refrained from mentioning
that. Besides, he had a use for Elgin now, and he wanted to stay on his good
side.
"Youre welcome, Big Guy. I suppose I should apologise for ragging
on you so much, but I just have a habit of being flippant whenever things get
tense. No offence?"
"No offence."
Kessler triggered the boarding ramp hatch. "Okay, lets go see your
Boss."
He stepped out into Nar Shaddas night air, and turned to take a good look
at the Corels Dream. Her hull was blackened and pitted where the extreme
heat from her atmospheric power climb had burned away at her leading edges.
No doubt the stresses had caused other, less obvious damage, but it would time
to do a full systems check and find out exactly what else was wrong. He sighed.
Hed probably knocked a good few thousand off her resale value.
Stomping down the boarding ramp, Elgin muttered that Ploovo wasnt his
boss.
Kessler turned to face him, a carefully staged expression of puzzlement on his
face.
"You said that before, and I wondered about that. Whats the deal
there?"
Elgin shrugged. "Pretty simple. I dont work for Ploovo, I work for
his supplier. I keep an eye on things and make sure Ploovos on the level
and no serious problems arise."
"Ploovo knows this, does he?"
"Sure. I do the odd bit of work for Ploovo here and there, but he asks
me, he doesnt tell me."
"So, youre one of Karrdes boys?"
Elgin grinned. "I didnt say that. Anyway
"
Something flashed uncomfortably brightly in the darkness of the deserted docking
bay. Kessler was temporarily blinded and felt something warm and wet splash
over his face. He instinctively dived for cover, scrabbling for a blaster that
hed momentarily forgotten wasnt in his holster.
Blinking furiously, his eyes cleared. He was lying exposed, an easy target,
but there had been no second shot yet. Elgin was still standing.
"Get down you big moron!" Kessler hissed.
Elgin appeared to be in some difficulty, he was staring at his hands and his
mouth was opening and closing as he seemed to be trying to say something. A
large, dark stain was spreading over the centre of his chest. After a second,
he sank slowly to his knees, then settled back on his haunches. His hands dropped
to his sides, his head fell forward and he sighed once and was still.
"Elgin? On no
.Elgin!"
He heard the crunch of booted feet moving from the shadows around him. "Id
be more worried about myself if I were in your position Kessler."
Kerrigan, D-Day and Angel moved out from their firing positions to cover Kessler
as he lay next to Elgins corpse. Angel and Kerry both carried standard
blasters, but D-Day was packing a very mean and very ugly looking heavy blaster
rifle. It was of the type that was more at home providing covering fire for
squads of soldiers. Or for killing overly large and threatening enemies with
one shot.
"Where are the other three?" Kessler whispered.
"Paid and gone their separate ways. Besides which, Y-Wings couldnt
have made it back here ahead of you anyway" D-Day replied.
"Shut up, D-Day" Kerrigan snarled. "Pick him up, pat him down
and get him onboard. Weve got some talking to do with this double-crossing
son of a bitch."
D-Day appeared to tense at Kerrigans imperious tone, and looked about
to respond, but a quick look of warning from Angel appeared to make him reconsider.
Shrugging, he slung the rifle, hauled Kessler roughly to his feet, and gave
him an expert search.
Stepping back with a puzzled expression on his face, he reported: "Hes
clean. Not so much as a kitchen knife on him."
Kerrigan raised an eyebrow, but chose not to comment. He indicated the boarding
ramp with the muzzle of his blaster. "Okay, Kessler. Open her up."
Once inside, Kessler was sat down next to the Dejarik table and placed his hands
in clear view. He waited patiently for the first question.
"Okay, Kessler" Kerrigan started. "Start explaining, and make
it convincing."
Kessler took a breath. "Someone screwed up our security. Ploovo put a bodyguard
on me to make sure I didnt talk to anyone before we launched."
"Bullshit. If Ploovo thought you were selling him out youd be dead
already."
"Only if he knew. I dont know. Maybe he was just worried about something,
like for example, why I was getting into meetings with known shitheads like
you three?"
"Go on. Keep talking."
Kessler sighed. "Anyway, he refused to give me the location of my delivery
destination. He gave me the details of a rendezvous where I would meet the rest
of a convoy and be given further instructions there. Elgin thats
the guy you just murdered, kept an eye on me all the way in. I couldnt
get word to anyone about how badly screwed our plan had gone.
"I made the rendezvous and met with a group of other ships. There was a
Medium Transport there, the Mandalore Star, the captain seemed to be the guy
with all the answers. He gave me my delivery destination and told me to wait
for the last ship in the convoy to arrive. The Indigo Prime, it was called.
You ever heard of it?"
All three shook their heads.
"Well it never showed. Our friends in the V-38s did instead, just after
I arrived. I thought the timing was a little convenient. I suspect theyd
been waiting all along and only attacked once the last target showed up
i.e. me. It looked like The Indigo Prime sold out the convoy. Whatever the reason,
Im pretty sure I was the only one to escape in one piece."
Angels expression didnt change. Kerrigan appeared to consider the
story. "So how come you didnt take care of the hired muscle there
and then and return to us with your share of the cargo?"
"Well, a number of reasons. Firstly because Im not a killer. Secondly
because I already had the delivery point co-ordinates plotted and jumping to
there was the fastest way out of a very dangerous ambush, and finally, because
mister Elgin gave away some information that I thought might prove useful."
"Which was?"
"All in good time." Kessler was starting to enjoy himself. Angel and
D-Day were listening intently, and even Kerrigan appeared to no longer quite
so sure of himself. He extracted a cigar from his shirt pocket and lit it with
his battered old steel lighter, blowing smoke rings into the air of the cabin.
"So anyway. There I am in the Denubis system, right outside the borders
of Imperial Orthodoxy space with a cargo of cheap, reliable blaster carbines
and energy cells. I need Elgin to believe Im who I say I am, so I have
to go ahead and do the deal, especially since all he wants to do is get out
and report to his boss. His boss, which hes already let slip isnt
Ploovo Two-for-One, but someone about whom he refuses to elaborate further."
Angel and D-Day exchange glances. Kerrigan ignores them.
"So I land at the selected landing site, and who should we find but a collection
of native guerrilla fighters anxious to get their hands on some pretty new toys
to help them kick the IO off their homeworld. An IO presence which, I might
hasten to add, is highly illegal even if cleverly hidden beneath a commercial
cover. Although it turns out that this cover isnt quite as clever as they
might think, because theres a Rebel Commando officer there arranging for
the handover of the weapons, and hes obviously in charge of things.
"Johnny Reb, obviously doesnt realise that Ploovos suppliers
work through intermediaries, and when he hears that the rest of his weapons
are spread in pieces over a large portion of the Dendrite Sector, gives me a
mouthful, saying that our people should be more careful about their security
measures. The thing is, he doesnt realise that to me "our
people" means Ploovo. He doesnt know Im working for Ploovo.
He assumes that Im working for the people that the Rebellion approached
to originally supply the weapons, not the people whove been subcontracted
out to do it. So naturally, he doesnt think twice about using the name
of this mysterious supplier. I put two and two together, and realise that Elgin
is also working for the same person. He later confirms this for me, and so I
not only discover who Ploovos suppliers really are, I also have a contact
who works directly for this person, and whom we can use as a way in.
"So, we arrive back on Nar Shadda, after being forced to ditch you losers
before you can compromise my cover with Elgin. Were about to go and report
to Ploovo, where Elgin would doubtless have been very happy to tell him what
an incredible job Id done and how trustworthy and reliable I was
"
Angel broke in, a triumphant sneer in her voice. "Except the famous Dev
Kerrigan, Crown Prince of Smugglers and Pirates, has our best lead yet shot,
right in front of you. Way to go, Kerry. Youve excelled yourself this
time."
Kerrigan began to look seriously out of his depth. Even D-Day couldnt
help glancing at him askew.
Kessler stood from behind the Dejarik table and approached the slim spacer cautiously.
He cast a meaningful look at Kerrigans blaster. The younger man blushed
and holstered his weapon.
"No hard feelings, Kerry," Kessler offered, holding out his hand in
a gesture of reconciliation.
"I dont know what to say, Kess" he replied, accepting the handshake.
"I misjudged you, Im sorry"
"You will be." Pulling him forward, Kessler slammed his free fist
into Kerrigans stomach, doubling him over. "Thats for putting
a tracking device on my ship!"
Kesslers knee shot up and split Kerrigans nose wide open, snapping
his head back with a loud crack. "Thats for killing the best lead
weve gained so far on this miserable operation!"
Kessler delivered a final thundering punch to Kerrigans jaw, knocking
him off his feet and depositing him cleanly on the deck in a crumpled heap.
"And thats for lying to me again about who were working for
you cheap son of a bitch!"
Kerrigan struggled to rise, but apparently gave it up as a bad idea. He slumped
back to deck, breathing heavily and making bubbling noises through his nose.
Kessler rubbed his tender knuckles, face like thunder.
Angel chuckled softly at Kerrigans discomfiture. "Hell, Kessler
I think I like you!"
Kessler ignored her. "Okay, Im going to wipe Elgins guts off
my face and then make contact with Ploovo before he starts getting really impatient.
Ill just make some shit up about what happened to Elgin, but you assholes
had better lose his body before I get back. Ploovo doesnt know Im
using this docking bay, but he will by the time Ive spoken to him and
you can bet hell have it put under surveillance. Ill make contact
with you all once Im done."
"Kessler," D-Day called for his attention.
"What?"
"We dusted your landing site with proton torpedoes after you busted out.
Tell him you came under attack during the exchange and Elgin bought the farm
there."
Kessler took a second to absorb the implications of this, then nodded. It was
as good a story as any. "Okay, D-Day. Thanks."
"Youre welcome."
Angel stopped him before he could depart. "You didnt say who Elgin
was really working for, Kessler."
"Well thats the funny thing, isnt it? Because according to
this piece of shit," he indicated Kerrigan, "Were part of Tallon
Karrdes organisation trying to shut down competition from Ploovos
mystery suppliers. But according to Elgin, Karrde is Ploovos supplier."
Walking to the crew quarters to clean up, he growled "Were all going
to have a cosy little chat when I get back. I want some answers from Kerrigan
and I want the truth this time."
Once he was out of earshot, Angel and D-Day gave each other significant looks.
"Karrde?" Angel asked.
"Looks like we have a winner." D-Day replied.
"If you two have quite finished gloating," came a voice from somewhere
around deck level, "Id really appreciate a hand getting up, and some
suggestions for what were going to tell him when he gets back wouldnt
be amiss either."
D-Day shrugged. "If I were you Id stay down until hes gone.
He looks really pissed off."
Angel shook her head ruefully. "You could always try telling him the truth,
Kerry. I realise itll be difficult for you, but you should at least make
the effort."
"Screw you, Angel."
"You couldnt afford me, Kerrigan" she laughed.
***
"Preacher
this is Jackal."
"About time! What the hells going on over there?"
"Relax, everything seems to working out, despite a few hiccups along the
way. Suffice to say that our faith in the principle seems to have been justified.
Hes managed to survive yet another ambush, identify our weapons supplier
and find out exactly whos behind the mysterious attacks too."
"Well, thats unexpected. Have you considered recruiting him yet?
He sounds resourceful."
"Trust me hes just not the type."
"Oh well
Is the supplier who we imagined it might be?"
"Yes, Id say this confirms our suspicions, but it also poses a few
new problems."
"You dont say? Go on then, enlighten me."
"First of all, given the nature of who weve discovered the supplier
to be, my cover with the principle is blown. He no longer trusts me, Im
requesting permission to tell him the truth."
"No chance. You got yourself into this mess, you get yourself out of it.
Youre a consummate liar according to your record make something
up. I wont allow you to jeopardise the security of this operation because
youve had a sudden attack of honesty."
"Okay, you cant blame me for asking. The other problem is a touch
more serious however. Our "partners" in this little venture have been
less than honest in the "full and immediate exchange of intelligence"
they promised when we agreed to pool our resources over this operation."
"You have evidence of this?"
"You could say that. Theyre the ones whove been ambushing and
wiping out the various convoys that my principle has so far narrowly avoided
being killed in. Its pretty obvious that their own infiltration teams
have been as successful as ours, and we have a lead on their own inside man.
Look up any information you can find on a freighter named the "Indigo Prime".
We have rock solid evidence that whoever the captain is hes an
IO agent."
"If youre right this would be a clear breach of our partnering arrangement."
"Im right. These assholes have not only been holding back vital information
from us, but their actions have nearly gotten our own agents killed twice.
Not only that, but now that weve got our first good lead in months, theres
every danger that with the chaos these assholes have caused in Ploovos
operation, the supplier may pull the plug and select another distributor who
isnt attracting as much heat. We cant afford for that to happen
when were so close. They need to be taught a lesson in co-operation."
"Hmm
.Okay, Ill take a look at your evidence and see what I
can pull up. In the meantime, your priority is to find out where the primary
depot for the suppliers weapons is located. Its not necessary that
you take it out, but you must locate it."
"Actually, I was thinking about that. It may be too late as far as Ploovos
concerned, hes suffered too many losses recently to be able to put together
any kind of convincing operation, even if Karrde decides to let him keep the
ball."
"You may be right. Hell have to rely on outside help to actually
move his shipments for him in the immediate future
"
"And that just makes his security situation worse. Hes wide open
to infiltration now, and theres no guarantee that his organisation isnt
still riddled with IO agents."
"Which surely makes it all the more important that we get a lead on Karrdes
base of operations all the sooner, doesnt it?"
"Well, yes and no. Look at it this way, Preacher
Karrdes not
stupid. If we can work this much out, so can he. I think hes going to
pull the plug on Ploovo any day now, regardless of any fast talking that the
Fat Man tries to do. Getting Kessler deeper into Ploovos operation may
be a waste of time at this point. Theres no guarantee that proceeding
this way will produce any results, in fact Id say the odds were stacked
against us."
"So what are you suggesting, Jackal?"
"Well if Karrdes going to be looking around for a new supplier, we
need to make sure that whoever he chooses isnt totally infiltrated by
IO agents the way Ploovos operation is. Let me ask you this: Who do we
trust?"
"Rhetorical question, isnt it? In this business we dont trust
anyone."
"Exactly. We dont trust anyone."
"I think I see what youre getting at
"
"It a beauty isnt it?"
"If it works. What do you need?"
"Anyone on non-essential operations is going to have to be pulled immediately,
and I mean like yesterday. Theyre going to need to be briefed, and Im
going to need a list of all the assets we can put together. Well need
a nominal leader, someone trusted by the community, Id recommend Lynx.
Hes got a good, deep cover and a background that suits the bill perfectly.
Hes also got a front business that we can use for our shop window. I cant
think of anyone better placed at short notice."
"Its a long shot, Captain, but it might just work. Were going
to be bidding against some pretty stiff competition if this contract goes on
the market. Well need a hook to make us stand out from the crowd."
"You leave that up to me, Preacher. I have just the thing
"
***
"Call
for you Boss."
Ploovo looked up from his plate of Jujo Grubs and frowned. "Im eating,
Quarrel. You deal with it."
"Youll want to take this one. Its Kessler."
Ploovo paused, fork halfway to his mouth, then set down his food and dabbed
at his mouth with a napkin. "Elgin?"
"Nothing from Elgin as yet, Boss. Kessler says hes got news but hell
only talk to you."
If Kessler was here and Elgin hadnt reported, that could only mean one
thing. Ploovo didnt like the implication. "Okay, put him on."
He sat back, resting his hands on his vast girth and waited for Kesslers
image to appear on his holoreader.
"Ploovo, this is Kessler. Im back, obviously and I made the shipment
as promised, but I dont think you should hold your breath waiting for
everyone else."
"Another ambush?"
"Yeah. I doubt anyone else got out. We were jumped during the delivery
too, but I dont think it was by the same people
.its complicated.
Elgin bought it before we could get back onboard and underway."
"Unfortunate. Good help is so hard to find these days."
"There is good news. I have a lead on whos responsible."
Ploovos eyes flickered to his dinner guest, who had so far wisely remained
silent. "Dont say any more over this line, Kessler. Come up to my
suite at the Regency Building, Quarrell will give you the address. Maybe when
we get this sorted out I can find you a job that doesnt involve half the
galaxy lining up to take shots at you." He closed the link and sat back,
gazing at the man sitting opposite him. "It seems were not quite
as badly screwed as we thought we were. One of my men survived the ambush, and
we appear to have a lead on who may be responsible."
Tallon Karrde lifted a morsel of food to his mouth and savoured the taste for
a second before replying. "Lucky for you, Ploovo. Maybe it wont be
necessary for me to take my business elsewhere after all
"
"I can assure you, Mister Karrde, that my man Kessler is very reliable.
If he says he has a lead, then our problems are over." Nervously, Ploovo
lifted a bottle in one sweaty paw. "More wine?"
Talon Karrde nodded, favouring Ploovo with a calculating stare.
***
Kessler
raised his arms and stood perfectly still as he was frisked for concealed weapons.
Finding none, the guard stepped back satisfied and nodded to Quarrel. The Devaronian
unfolded his arms and stepped away from the security desk, indicating to Kessler
with a curt nod that he should follow. The two rode the private turbolift to
Ploovos penthouse in silence, Quarrels customary air of inhospitability
mixed with something Kessler had never noticed in the alien before. He wasnt
a great judge of alien mannerisms or facial expressions, but Kessler got the
distinct impression that Quarrel was nervous about something.
I guess Id be nervous in his position. He could be out of a job by next
week.
The turbolift stopped on the sixty-eighth floor and two men, apparently some
of Ploovos guards, boarded. They nodded to Quarrel who quietly acknowledged
them , and the lift resumed its journey.
The two men seemed strangely familiar for some reason. Of course, Ploovo had
a lot of goons, but then it came to him. These were the same two who had accompanied
Quarrel when he had first met Kessler in The Sullustans Sister. Curiosity
satisfied, he tried to relax, but couldnt shake the nagging feeling that
something else was amiss. The shorter of the two guards Kessler had thought
he seemed familiar the first time hed seen him, and now, staring at the
back of his thick, powerful neck in the crowded turbolift, the feeling had returned.
Quarrel reached inside his jacket, pulled out a small, compact blaster and checked
it over to make sure it was in working order. "Sorry about this Kessler.
Nothing personal."
Ignoring Quarrel, the guard in front of him angled his head over in a slow,
languorous twist that made an audible popping noise as the vertebrae in his
neck reset.
Years before, when hed been a Lieutenant Colonel and newly promoted to
command of the TIE Fighters Corps 10th Fighter Wing, Kessler had been
required to attend a diplomatic function. The ISD Challenge had been in Auroran
orbit at the time, and most of her crew were on leave, but Kessler was covering
for the ships commanding officer who was himself on leave at the time.
The Emperors Hammer was about to conclude diplomatic negotiations and
sign an Alliance with Supreme Moff Babunes Imperial Orthodoxy, and the
EH Directorate needed a large group of senior officers from all branches of
service to attend the ceremony that marked the signing of the EH/IO Treaty.
Kessler hadnt been doing anything amazingly important at the time, so
the Battlegroup Commander, Rear Admiral Rapier, had ordered him to get into
dress uniform and make himself available for window-dressing duty at the ceremony
on Aurora. Kessler had grudgingly complied with his orders, polished his medals
and boots, and taken a shuttle down to Aurora Prime.
Once at the Senate Hall, hed been introduced to a small group of IO Officers
who were going to form the Embassy Staff on Aurora once the treaty was signed.
One man in particular caught his imagination. Hed been a short, but powerfully
built Commander, whod been introduced as the Cultural Attaché.
He knew it was wrong to judge a book by its cover, but one look at the
man made it pretty obvious that the only thing he knew about culture was how
to subjugate alien ones. Besides, it was common knowledge in military circles
that Cultural Attaché was simply a polite way of telling people that
here was the Intelligence Operative. It was the Intel Communitys way of
playing by the rules, keeping everything above board, showing that yes, you
were going to be spied on, but it was going to be done in a polite, legal manner.
Kessler had been highly amused by it all.
After the introductions came the ceremony itself. Kessler was only required
to look good in uniform for the cameras, so he stood where the diplomats told
him to stand and endured two hours of boring speeches and tedious diplomatic
double talk, which culminated in the signing of the Non-Aggression Pact between
the Emperors Hammer and the Imperial Orthodoxy. The whole process was
made even more unbearable by the fact that Kessler had been forced to stand
directly behind the so-called Cultural Attaché for the duration of the
ceremony, and the man had an insufferable habit of twisting his neck around
in his collar every few minutes with an irritating popping noise as his vertebrae
reset. Kessler suddenly remembered where hed met the short guard before.
The muzzle of Quarrels blaster swung up in slow motion and he felt himself
swinging an arm over the shoulder and around the neck of the man in front of
him. There was a flash and a whining noise as he twisted the shorter man off
balance and grasped for the Blaster Rifle slung over the mans shoulder.
The second guard appeared to realise that the assassination attempt wasnt
going as smoothly as planned and began to reach for his own weapon. Quarrels
face twisted into a mask of fury and he steadied his aim on the pistol for a
second shot. The second guard had his weapon clear of its holster, and
the guard Kessler was holding seemed to be growing heavy in his arms. The second
guards eyes flickered down to waist level and widened in shock, his mouth
opening as he began to shout something. Quarrels gun flared again, then
the world went bright white.
When Kesslers eyes cleared the turbolift was quiet except for the hum
of the repulsors carrying the lift to the penthouse. Quarrel lay unmoving on
the deck, slumped over the dead body of the other guard. He realised he was
still holding up the Intelligence Operative hed met at that diplomatic
function all those years ago, so he released his grip on the mans neck
and he slid to the floor quietly. All three bodies were peppered with small
holes, edges seared by intense burns. Looking down, Kessler realised he was
holding an Imperial Repeating Blaster Carbine in his white-knuckled hand. Hed
obviously fired it on full auto, and the ensuing hail of shots in the close
confines of the turbolift had done their deadly work.
Why kill me?
Quarrel and the two bodyguards had been IO agents, and it had been pretty obvious
that Kessler knew exactly who was behind Ploovos problems. So theyd
arranged to kill him. It still didnt make any sense to do it like this
however. Not here, right on Ploovos front doorstep, there was far too
much to lose. Unless Kessler was being set up to take the blame for something
else entirely.
Like an assassination?
But why kill Ploovo? What was the point? Take the Fat Man out of the equation
and Karrdes people simply switch to another distributor, then you have
to begin the infiltration process all over again. It still didnt make
sense.
The turbolift doors opened and two guards waiting in the atrium took one look
at the carnage before whipping their weapons clear of their holsters and aiming
them straight at Kesslers face.
"Drop the weapon! Do it now!!"
Kessler dropped the weapon.
"Out of the lift, face down on the floor! Keep your hands where we can
see them!"
Still dazed from his ordeal, Kessler complied. A blaster muzzle was shoved behind
his ear and he was roughly searched as one man spoke into a communicator excitedly.
At the other end of the atrium a door opened and Kessler heard Ploovos
distinct thin, reedy voice. "Kessler? What the hells been going on?"
The two guards ignored Ploovo, then a second voice spoke. "The famous Captain
Kessler I presume? Ploovos been telling me a lot about you. He seems to
think very highly of you."
Kessler looked up from the deck and saw a tall, well dressed man with short
cut hair and a thin moustache. He seemed amused.
"Although I suspect his opinion of you is about to change dramatically
unless you can do some really fast talking."
"The lift is clear, Mister Karrde, sir. All three of them are dead."
Tallon Karrde? Its all starting to make sense now.
Kessler met Karrdes eye. "Are these two men yours?"
Karrde nodded.
"Good, because right now theyre the only people around here we can
trust."
"Kessler I said what the hells been going on!!!"
Kessler ignored Ploovo. "Ploovos henchmen were Imperial Orthodoxy
agents, they were going to kill you and set me up to take the blame for it,
Mister Karrde."
Karrde nodded to his bodyguards, and they hauled Kessler to his feet. Glancing
at them gratefully, he continued. "Ive only just figured out whats
been going on, but you know how delicate the situation in the Dendrite Sector
is between the Rebels and the IO, thats why youre being used to
supply insurgents instead of the Rebels openly attacking, right?"
"Go on.."
"The IO must have been infiltrating Ploovos organisation for months
now. Who knows how many of Ploovos people really work for the Empire?
But simply ambushing shipments is no solution to their problem, all youd
do is switch to another distributor."
"Now hold on a second
" Ploovo began.
"Shut up Fat Boy" Kessler snapped. Karrdes eyes glittered in
amusement. Kessler continued. "The real prize was Mister Big himself. Kill
you and that puts the whole operation back for months, perhaps permanently.
Whoever succeeds you may not be quite as sympathetic to the Rebellion. So instead
of shutting down Lard-Ass here, they just make things bad enough that youd
want to come here and check out for yourself just how incompetent Ploovo was
becoming." He shrugged. "Once that happened they could kill you all
and put paid to any chance for stability in the Sector."
Karrde treated Kessler to a long penetrating stare before nodding once. "Okay
Captain. Youve convinced me." He turned to Ploovo. "Sorry Bubble-Butt.
Youre fired. Goodbye."
Ploovos face paled. He began to protest loudly, but was ignored by all
present.
Karrde reached inside his jacket and pulled out a sporting blaster, checking
it for power, then touched the butt of the Repeater on the deck with his toe.
"You may as well make yourself useful, Kessler. If you cant defend
yourself, youre a burden to us. Pick this up
" a meaningful
glance into the turbolift. "You obviously know how to use it."
Kessler bent to retrieve the weapon, as he straightened, he saw the turbolift
doors slide shut and the lift begin to descend. "Looks like weve
got company coming."
"Mister Karrde" one the guards called over. "Reception isnt
responding, sir."
"Like I said" Kessler added. "No telling how many of Ploovos
people are in this."
Karrde frowned. "Ploovo, shut your whining for a second and answer one
question, do you have another way out of this rat hole of yours?"
Ploovo gulped. "Yes. I have a shuttle on the roof."
"Then lead the way."
"Erm
the access is via the turbolift."
Karrde sighed. "Is there any other way up to the roof?"
Ploovo stared at him blankly. "I suppose we could take the fire escape.
Its through the master bedroom."
Karrdes two men glanced at each other briefly, then nodded and stepped
to the open doors at into Ploovos penthouse at the far end of the atrium.
Weapons at the ready, they checked inside and nodded to their Boss that the
first room was clear.
"Ploovo," said Kessler. "Those doors to your apartment, are they
shielded?"
"Not shielded, no, but they are armoured and I can lock them. Quarrel was
in charge of security though. His people may have the access code."
"Okay, In that case I suggest
" It was then that he noticed two
blinking red lights flashing on and off outside the windows of Ploovos
lounge. "Everybody get down!"
The windows shattered as the hovering airspeeder outside opened fire with what
seemed to be a rapid fire blaster cannon. Furniture and artwork disintegrated
in a blaze of laser fire as the gunner worked his way across the apartment,
shredding one of Karrdes bodyguards as he tried to return fire. The other
took a headlong dive back into the atrium and slapped the doorlock on his way,
the armoured doors swinging shut and sealing with a hiss.
Kessler looked up from behind the security desk. "Everyone okay?"
Karrde and Ploovo both acknowledged. The remaining bodyguard stood, brushing
debris from his clothes. "Mareels dead sir. Doesnt look like
we can get out that way now."
"Were in some real pretty shit now." Kessler muttered. "You,"
he gestured at the bodyguard with his rifle. "Whats your name?"
"Derrel."
"Okay, Derrel. See if you can get the turbolift doors open. Well
climb the shaft up to the roof."
"Theres no guarantee they havent got the roof covered or the
shuttle taken out already."
"No, but theres every guarantee theyve got this penthouse covered
and were running out of options. Anyway, the shuttle isnt what Im
counting on. Get on with it."
Derrel shrugged, holstered his blaster and stepped towards the turbolift.
Kessler turned to Karrde. "You got a communicator on you?"
Karrde reached into his jacket and flipped a small device to Kessler.
"Thanks, now I suggest you help your man Derrel there to get those doors
open, and I hope youre not scared of heights."
Karrde smiled, nodded and went to attend to the doors. The were sealed for safety
reasons, but Derrel didnt have time to worry about safety protocols. He
blasted open the access hatch to the lift controls and pulled out a live cable,
turned around to warn everyone to stand clear and thrust the cable into the
circuit panel. There was a flash and a shower of sparks, and the turbolift doors
creaked open and shuddered to a halt halfway. Derrel shook his scorched hand
and grimaced in pain. "Doors open. Sort of."
Kessler nodded and tossed the commlink back to Karrde with a quick "Thanks",
then peered down the shaft. The oncoming lift wasnt visible yet, but it
would be here within minutes. "Okay, we dont have much time, lets
go. Derrel, your hand going to be okay?"
Derrel nodded.
"Right, get going. You first."
Derrel slipped through the gap in the doors and began to climb the service ladder.
Kessler stepped forward to go next, then realised that the gap was barely two
feet wide. He turned to look at Ploovo. Ploovo looked at the gap, then at Kessler,
panic clearly written all over his fat, sweaty face. Kessler sighed. "Wait
a minute, Ploovo."
He slung the rifle over his shoulder and wedged himself into the gap, bracing
his back against one door and his boots against the other, then heaved. The
doors slowly edged open, inch by painful inch. Through gritted teeth, he hissed
"Move it, Fat Boy!" Ploovo gratefully ducked under him and squeezed
through the gap, reaching for the ladder and climbing unsteadily. Kessler relaxed
and let the doors return to their resting position, gasping for breath. Karrde
was giving him a strange look. "What?"
Karrde shrugged. "Id have left him."
"Lucky for him I was here, then. Come on. Follow me." He slipped into
the shaft and began to climb, a low whistling noise growing louder as he climbed
to the top of the shaft. The turbolift was almost here. It wouldnt take
them long to realise where theyd gone, especially when they saw the state
of the shaft doors.
Reaching the top of the shaft, he found Ploovo shivering in fear and Derrel
covering the access door with his blaster.
"Derrel, you looked outside yet?"
"Not yet."
"Okay, Ploovo, get the hell back. Derrel, you and me, ready?"
"Ready."
Weapons held in both hands, he triggered the door release and the two of them
surged out onto the rooftop. It was bitterly cold. A strong wind cut through
his clothing as if it were paper, and he had to struggle to maintain his footing,
but the shuttle seemed to be in once piece for the moment.
"Kessler, that turbolifts arrived. Theyre here."
That meant if they werent onboard that shuttle now, the men below would
realise where theyd gone, and signal to their compatriots in the airspeeder
to check the roof.
"Lets go!"
Ploovo didnt need a second invitation, he shoved past the two men and
waddled towards his shuttle as fast as his legs would carry him, waving his
arms in an effort to attract attention.
Whos he trying to signal? There isnt a crew on that thing, is there?
Oh no. Ploovo you damned idiot, why didnt you tell us your shuttle was
crewed?
Without pausing to think, Kessler grabbed Karrde by the arm and dived behind
a ventilation stack, screaming for Derrel to take cover and hoping his voice
would carry above the wind. There was a whine of repulsorlifts and the scream
of laser fire as the shuttle spun about and gunned down Ploovo at point blank
range. Kessler couldnt see if Derrel had escaped the blast or not.
Karrde winced, rubbing at bruised elbow. "Any more bright ideas, Kessler?"
"Only one," Kessler replied, clearing the safety lock on his rifle.
"Take aim at that turbolift hatch and shoot anything that sticks its
nose out."
Karrde nodded, smiling grimly.
More laser fire tore across the rooftop as the airspeeder joined the shuttle
in searching the rooftop for any survivors. Kessler hoped that meant they hadnt
found Derrel, then the turbolift doors chimed and opened, and he and Karrde
unleashed a volley of fire into the open doorway. There were choked screams
from the interior, and one man staggered free, clutching at his guts with both
hands. Karrde tracked him with the muzzle of his sporting blaster and calmly
fired a single shot through his head. He ejected the spent powerpack and clipped
a fresh one into place. "Its only a matter of time before that airspeeder
or that shuttle finds us, and its all over when they do. Its been
nice knowing you Captain Kessler, shame you couldnt have had your flash
of inspiration regarding Ploovos problems a little sooner."
Kessler peered around the corner of the ventilation stack then grinned at Karrde
cheerfully. "Were not dead yet, but Id recommend you make yourself
as small as you possibly can for the next thirty seconds or so." then dropped
his rifle and covered his head with his hands.
"What the
"
That was as far as he got before his words were drowned in a deafening explosion.
A wave of heat swept over them both, and the whine of the shuttles engines
abruptly cut out, replaced by a much deeper rumble.
"Okay, you can look up now," said Kessler, climbing to his feet. He
grinned broadly and waved to the pilot in the cockpit of the YT-1300 Far Trader
as it hovered low over the rooftop. Dev Kerrigan waved back to him and set her
down gently, clear of the burning wreckage of Ploovos shuttle. Kessler
watched Kerrigan strap on a headset microphone and his amplified voice boomed
out over the rooftop: "You called, sir?"
The boarding ramp extended as Karrde stood and stared, astonished. "You
have a lot of friends it seems, Captain."
"Yeah, you could say that." He glanced around the roof and shouted
"Derrel, you still alive?"
Karrdes remaining bodyguard stood from behind the cover of a gutted ventilation
stack and waved. "The airspeeder hightailed it out of here. There was a
Firespray Class attack ship close on its tail. I didnt see it go
down."
Kessler smiled. "Thatll be our friend mister D-Day Dayton. You can
relax, these guys are on my side, get your ass onboard before any more bad guys
show up!"
Derrel nodded in the affirmative and headed towards the Far Traders boarding
ramp. Kessler turned to Karrde. "After you."
In the cockpit of the Far Trader, Kerrigan grinned enthusiastically at Kessler
as the three refugees entered. Kessler gave him a big thumbs up and Kerrigan
saluted, withdrew the ramp and boosted power to the engines. The ship lifted
clear and Kerrigan indicated to Karrde that he should sit in the co-pilots
station, then saw Derrel clutching at his wounded hand. "Kess, theres
a medical kit in the locker over the navigation station. See if theres
a bacta spray in there for your mans hand."
"Sure thing."
Kerrigan grinned and keyed his transmitter. "Mommas Pride this is
Far Trader. Dustoff site is clear, were on our way out. You can stand
down now."
"Roger that Far Trader. Momma out."
"Killing Time this is Far Trader. How goes the hunt old buddy?"
"Sweet. This suckers a greasy spot on the side of a skyscraper. Where
you at?"
"Were on our way home. Got to pick up the Corels Dream for
our friend Mister K here then were getting the hell out of town. Meet you at
the rendezvous."
"You got it, Kerry. See you later."
Kerrigan gunned the throttle and the Far Trader accelerated swiftly, heading
back to Docking Bay 33B and Kesslers ship. Karrde cleared his throat and
addressed Kerrigan. "I seem to be in the debt of Captain Kesslers
friends, yet you have me at a disadvantage. Im Tallon Karrde, and you
might be?"
Kerrigan offered him his hand. "Dev Kerrigan, pleased to meet you. Let
me just say if Kess is letting you get away with calling him Captain he must
like you. Most folks call him Colonel or Kess, or if
theyre feeling especially respectful grumpy old fart."
"Screw you, Kerrigan." Kessler shot back cheerfully. Karrde laughed.
"So," Kerrigan continued while checking instrumentation to make sure
their flight path was clear. "What happened to Jelly-Belly?"
"Ploovos dead." Kessler muttered.
Kerrigan grinned. "Shame. Anyway, I guess that means," he said, turning
to Karrde; "That youre in the market for a new distributor for your
merchandise in this Sector?"
Karrde nodded. "In a manner of speaking, yes."
Kerrigans shark-like grin widened even further. "Mister Karrde, this
could be your lucky day!"
***
"Preacher
this is Jackal.
"Youre on time for a change."
"Spare me. Whats the news?"
"Youll be happy to hear its all going just as planned. Karrdes
fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Within a few weeks, Agent Lynxs dummy
company will be responsible for the distribution and control of the entire arms
trade in the Dendrite Sector. The Imperial Orthodoxy havent a hope of
infiltrating our network. The best part is, well be profiting from the
supply of Rebel weapons to saboteurs working against a rival Imperial faction,
and we can control exactly what goes where and to whom. Within a month we should
have a complete list of Karrdes customers. Well have the names and
locations of every Rebel agent in the Sector, courtesy of Rebel Intelligence
themselves! If Coruscant only knew exactly who Karrde was really dealing with,
theyd just shit themselves. I have to hand it to you, Jackal. It was a
brilliant idea"
"Yeah, I am pretty damn good, arent I?"
"Youll be pleased to hear your promotion to Major was today approved
by the Supreme Director himself."
"Now thats what I like to hear!"
*chuckle* "Yes, well, you earned it. Congratulations on a job well done."
"Okay Preacher. Ive just got a spot of business to tidy up, some
loose ends to sort out and Ill be ready for my next assignment."
"No rush. Youve earned some leave. Snake sends her regards by the
way. She says to tell you she really enjoyed working with you again."
"Yeah, Ill just bet she did. Jackal out."
***
Kerrigan
pushed the drink over to Kesslers side of the table and glanced about
the bar. The Sullustans Sister was crowded, the usual gang of business
types braying about stock deals and mergers. He shook his head bemusedly. "I
cant see what you see in the place. You sure about this?"
Kessler nodded. "Yes, Im sure. Take my share and buy Ploovos
interest in this place for me. I always wanted to own a bar."
"Sure, but this one?"
"Yeah, this one."
"Okay, youre the boss." Kerrigan reached inside his jacket and
pulled clear an envelope, then placed it on Kesslers side of the table.
"Here. A gift."
Kessler frowned. "What is it?"
"Open it and see."
Kessler slit the seam from the envelope and pulled out a crisp, freshly stamped
document. It was a Spacers Guild Trading License, complete with Emperors
Hammer, Independent Territories and New Republic trading stamps. Valid for six
years. Kesslers ugly face split into a warm smile.
"Thanks Kerry."
"Youre welcome you ugly old fart."
"No IO trading stamp?"
"I didnt want to encourage you. I dont think they like you
there very much."
Kessler laughed. "Good point."
Kerrigan took a sip of his drink and sighed. "So what now?"
Kessler pondered for a second or two. "Im not sure. I have to get
some repairs done first, but the EH has begun to open up a series of colonies
along the border worlds near the Minos Cluster. Lot of opportunities there,
and the regular trading runs are getting too competitive for my tastes."
He shrugged. "If I get in early, make the right contacts, I should be able
to break even, maybe even turn a profit."
"Youre welcome to work with us, you know?"
Kessler shook his head. "Im not a smuggler, Kerry."
Kerrigan smiled laconically. "Yeah, you said that before."
Looking around the bar, Kessler grinned. "It certainly hasnt been
boring anyway. Ill give you that much."
"Youre welcome, Kess. We couldnt have done it without you.
Any time you need a favour, just look me up, and if you ever change your mind
well, the offers always there."
Kessler stood and grasped the younger spacers hand, shaking it warmly.
"Thanks, Kerry. Its been a blast, but if excitement was what I was
after Id never had retired. Im looking forward to some nice, dull,
boring, safe cargo runs for the foreseeable future. Sticking around you tends
to be anything but boring."
Kerrigan released Kesslers hand and grasped him gently by the shoulder.
"Okay, go on. I hate long goodbyes. Get outta here you old pirate."
Smiling, Kessler left.
Kerrigan spent a few more minutes finishing off his drink, then put on his cap
and collected his blaster from the door. Stepping outside into the busy street,
he hailed a cab and settled into the passenger seat for the trip back to the
starport. He had to be on Aurora Prime tomorrow and couldnt afford to
hang around. Things were looking up for the man who called himself Dev Kerrigan.
A promotion to Major was only the icing on the cake. Preacher had even hinted
that he was being recommended for an Imperial Cross.
And they said no-one appreciated you if you worked in Intel Division?
Kerrigan laughed all the way to the starport.
©
(copyright) Paul Lee Charlton. All Rights Reserved