Chapter 1 – The Independent Transporter
It's been a long day for Private Dasheed. This is the twelfth freighter he's had to inspect today as part of the Sith Empire's security forces, and with the spaceport so busy he's expecting to have to go through another ten. But at least this is one of the smaller Corellian freighters, so there is far less cargo to scan, and the number of hidden spaces for smuggling is far less than the larger transports. But even so, the captain of this ship is annoying enough to offset those small blessings. Dasheed can hear him complaining behind him, even now.
"Aww, for frags sake, you guys come late, and now you're scanning my ship again! I got buyers for this grain waiting for me. You keep me here any longer and my cargo will spoil. I'll be out of business, I'll lose my ship!"
"I know how you 'Independent Transporters' work," says the corporal with obvious distain. "I'm not letting you go until I'm completely satisfied you're clean. Of course I could always have you and your ship hauled away for interfering in our duties."
Dasheed can imagine the sneer on the corporal's face as the man says that. Dasheed had hoped to be done with Imperial taskmasters once he signed up for the army, but once a slave always a slave. But at least with this job Dasheed has a full belly and can take his pent up frustrations out on the civilians without getting into any trouble. Or at least he could if he'd been assigned to the garrison of the conquered planet below instead of the orbital spaceport.
"Besides," says the corporal, choosing to try and press his overbearing advantage on the ship's owner, "Who ever heard of one of your kind shipping grain? That's merchant work."
"For regular grain, maybe," says the ship's captain, fully willing to argue, "But this is Meraleekan First Harvest grain. They don't ship this stuff off planet, or sell to anyone who does. Even with the Treaty of Coruscant, this is probably the biggest off world shipment they've done in years. I had to do favors for five brokers for this, and my client is impatient."
It's the same every time for Dasheed. His corporal harasses the merchants, who get indignant and sometimes shrill, saying it's their client that's impatient. You'd think something exciting would happen sometime for an Imperial trooper, but nothing does. At least Dasheed is down to scanning the last few of the large crates. After this, Dasheed will have run through all the scan types and he'll be off to the next indignant merchant's vessel.
And then the scanner bleeps, stating it has found something.
This sort of occurrence is so rare that he doesn't have an instinctive reaction, so Dasheed turns to question his superior, saying, "Sir, I think I've found something with the scanner."
Before Dasheed can speak his third word though, he takes a blaster bolt to the face. Being killed instantly, Dasheed does not hear the following three blaster shots.
Captain Kelvin Riggs, owner and pilot of the Jade Phoenix, is the only one standing at the end, the corpses of all four Imperial soldiers lying on the ground surrounding him. After remaining in his spread open stance for a few more seconds to listen for any signs of breathing, both pistols pointed in different directions, Kelvin is satisfied. With a few quick flicks of the wrists Kelvin twirls his pistols and holsters them like a true gunslinger. After that bit of self indulgence, Kelvin immediately undoes the securements on the corporal's helmet with practiced ease and takes it with him as he dashes out of the cargo hold's door, nearly colliding with his overly large and fuzzy companion as he goes.
The thick maned, muscular, and pronouncedly overweight Cathar engineer of the ship, Silgar Hymm pushes himself against a bulkhead to get out of Kelvin's way as the brown haired human rushes past him. Seeing what the source of the blaster fire was, Silgar runs a hand through his aged and silvered scalp and shouts after Kelvin in that accent with it's rolling r's, "You killed another bunch of soldiers!"
Kelvin ignores the question and just shouts over his shoulder as he books it to the engine room, "Just prep the ship for an L-P Take-off!"
In mid stride, Kelvin puts the corporal's helmet over his head and leaps down the final stairway to the engine room. As expected, a voice comes over the built in radio asking why blaster fire was detected. Over the almost two decades since he's inherited the Jade Phoenix, Kelvin has had to try and answer this question a good number of times. The first few times he tried explaining it away as a "weapon malfunction," but it never worked. Now he uses the universal scapegoat, blaming the new guy.
Putting his helmeted head right next to a conducer on the ship's engines, Kelvin answers the radio hail. "Yeah, I got stuck with the new guy today. Some furry vermin jumped out and he overreacted, nearly blew off one of his toes."
"Your signal is pretty weak," comes the staticy response over the radio, caused by the power flow through the engine's conducer to mask the fact that Kelvin is just imitating the deceased corporal's voice. "There's no chemical spills or anything, is there?"
While a chemical spill would be a useful answer, it would only draw more attention. What was it that guy called smugglers…? "Nah, I'm pretty sure it's this ship's hull. You know how these 'Independent Transporters' are with their after market modifications."
"Yeah, they're slippery bastards." Kelvin is not sure if he should be flattered or insulted, but the voice on the other side continues on. "So how much longer are you going to take with the…Silver Typhoon?"
Kelvin smiles despite himself, as it's always a pleasure when his false IDs and rigged transponders hold up under scrutiny. "Another fifteen minutes or so. I want to make sure this guy is clean before I let him go. And waiting a little might improve his attitude some."
"Yeah," agrees the voice on the radio, "Always nice to remind these merchants who's in charge. I'll let you get back to the job. Out."
Taking the helmet off, Kelvin happily rubs at his carefully maintained stubble. Some folks in the business like looking clean, but Kelvin likes being a little scruffy looking. It let's clients know he's not above a little dirty work, like this job that the Strategic Information Service, the Republic's intelligence agency, signed him on to do. Kelvin has bought himself fifteen minutes, now he has to make the most of it.
Stepping out of the engine room, Kelvin sees Ferg approaching him. A teen from an Imperial conquered slum without a last name, Ferg made a real reputation for himself with his skill in weapon crafting and modifications. "Fragmentation Ferg" scored himself on his native world's most wanted list after he performed a few too many "experiments" on Imperial holdings. But since Kelvin was being hunted by the Imperials at the same time the two bumped into each other, as fugitives often run in the same circles. Kelvin has done nothing but profit from the encounter, as his one-shot one-kill blasters proved just minutes before.
"Don't tell me I missed all the fireworks," asks the lanky kid, still in his awkward stages.
"There's more to come, Ferg," says Kelvin happily. "We're going to need you to deploy that Tiny Wonder of yours. And after it's away, pull the radio from this helmet. When that's all done I'm gonna need your acting skills in the cockpit."
With a hoot of delight Ferg snatches the helmet and takes off to see to his orders. Kelvin catches a glimpse of Ferg through the corridors on his way to the cockpit fiddling with one of the tiny black rectangular droids you see scurrying around spaceports and stations. Kelvin had spent years wondering what those little things were, why no one paid attention to them, and why they were universally present in synthetic habitats. Turned out they're janitor aids, monitoring the filth on the floors and reporting any areas that need cleaning. After learning that, Kelvin tucked it away as a little bit of trivia. After Ferg learned that, he went about trying to weaponize them.
# # # # #
The two Imperial soldiers standing watch outside the entrance to the flight control tower are bored. Guard duty is always boring. You stand in one place, glare at people passing by, and wait for your shift to end. The only change from one day to the next are the faces of the people you glare at.
One of the guards yawns heavily, the action happily concealed by his head covering helmet. The other one wishes that he could scratch his nose, the action regrettably made impossible by his head covering helmet.
When the little janitor bot crosses their path, it's also completely mundane and monotonous. It wasn't until the better part of a minute had passed that one of the troopers realizes that no janitor bot had ever gone past them and into the control tower before, so he asks his companion a question. "Are those things allowed in here?" The companion answers with a shrug.
A few seconds later, the janitor bot makes a melodious jingle from the other side of the control tower's entryway.
Bleep – bleetle – bleep – bleep. Bleep – bleep.
And the following explosion is enough to devastate the foundations of the control tower, destroying it's power and data lines and taking out the two guards that had been standing nearby.
# # # # #
"Bingo!"
Ferg's shout can be heard through the bulkheads and Kelvin is sure of the drone's successful mission even before Ferg pops his head in to inform his captain. After giving his congratulations to the stupidly grinning kid, Kelvin punches a button on the comm. system and hails Silgar who is crawling around the ship's underbelly manually charging the capacitors for all the critical systems as part of the "Low-Presence Take-Off" system he invented when Kelvin's father was the captain of the Jade Phoenix.
"How you doing down there, old man? You a grease ball yet, or still a fuzz ball?"
"That line was only funny the first time you used it," comes Silgar's deep growl through the comm.
"I save my wit for the ladies," comes Kelvin's instant reply. "How long until we can take off."
"The Nav-Computer is online already, and I can have the other systems up in ten seconds notice."
"Good work. Wait for my signal."
Catching Ferg's attention, who had previously been using the trooper helmet as a drum thanks to the kid's over abundant energy, Kelvin gets him to be silent. It's been about a minute since the control tower was taken offline, so now should be a good time to pour some oil on the fire. Kelvin opens a frequency on the Imperial trooper's extracted radio headset, and then shouts into it.
"The station is under attack! Republic troopers are attacking the station through the spaceport! Secure all incoming ships, we need backup now!"
Kelvin then presses a button on one of the more recent additions to the Phoenix's cockpit, a soundboard that Ferg thought up just for fun that Kelvin took a liking to. The sound of a Republic trooper's standard issue blaster rifle rings out loud enough that Kelvin has to shout over it.
"I repeat, Republic troopers are attacking all levels of the spaceport we need-!"
And then Kelvin shatters the radio using a pistol butt as a hammer. Ferg has to bite a knuckle to keep from laughing and puts on the salvaged trooper helmet. Kelvin opens a universal frequency used by all transporters and merchants and begins whispering urgently into the sound receiver.
"Heads up guys, the Imperials are doing a full lock down. They're already on board my ship, shouting something about Republic troopers, and that they're impounding my cargo. They already shot one of my crew! Everyone, run while you-"
Ferg breaks into the scripted line, shouting through the Imperial helmet, his voice altered by its synthetic processing while pointing a ludicrously non threatening gun imitating finger. "What are you doing there? Get away from that comm. unit!"
Properly faking fear, Kelvin shouts, "No! I'm not doing anything! No, please don't shoot!" Kelvin slams the Imperial Rifle button on the sound board, and then cuts off the channel before the salvo of imaginary rounds finishes. Then Kelvin sits back and relaxes, the sound of his Krayt Dragon leather jacket creaking on the seat as Ferg hoots with laughter. Kelvin has enough time to start the nav-computer processing coordinates for a hyperspace jump before the laughing comes to an end.
Carelessly tossing the now useless helmet aside, Ferg drops himself into the co-pilot seat, and listens into the radio chatter between the transport captains and various merchants relating Imperial troopers storming the various levels of the spaceport, harassing people who are standing around in the open, and making demands on being told where the "Republic troopers" are. It takes less than a minute for the most nervous ship in the docks to start powering up and trying to make a run for it, with the ship quickly getting raided and impounded.
After that, the dam breaks and ships start powering up right and left, all of them looking to make a break for it.
"Say, captain," asks Ferg, "Is it really okay for us to get so many people into trouble just to make a get-away?"
Kelvin just gives the kid his best swashbuckler smile and says, "Any smuggler worth his salt won't give the Imps anything to get themselves jailed over. And besides, it'll mean less competition for jobs in the long run, so it's all to our advantage."
The kid gives a shrug as if he'll just take Kelvin's word for it as the ship's owner flicks on the comm. again to give his engineer the signal to power up the Phoenix. With a turn of a heavy lever inside one of the Phoenix's secret holds, eight shielded capacitors dump their stored up energy into all the critical systems on the ship, the bank of consoles lighting up like Christmas in the cockpit. Before any of the Imperials running around like headless chickens in the spaceport can react to the Jade Phoenix's engines kicking to life, the ship is floating on its repulsors and moving for the wide open exit with its atmosphere preservation field, passing through and into space.
The airspace around the station is filled with traffic lanes, incoming and outgoing, and the chaos of fleeing ships has the entire Imperial garrison of fighters out in force tracking down everyone they can. Some of the vessels have given themselves up, with a few bits of wreckage from one ship's failed escape, but the vast majority are booking hard and fast for the outer limits of the spaceport's gravity field to make the jump to Lightspeed. Hopefully the fighters are occupied enough for the Jade Phoenix to get by unchecked and lost in the crowd. It would be nice to hold onto this fake ID a little longer.
Checking the Nav-Computer, it seems the computations are almost done. Over ninty percent complete. Things are looking up.
"Attention, Silver Typhoon, power down and surrender, or we will open fire!"
The sound of the Imperial fighter pilot's warning comes at about the same time as the Target Lock warning light turns on. The Imperials already have missile lock.
"Ferg, Silgar, man the guns!"
Kelvin guns the throttle, the Phoenix taking off in a manner to do credit to her namesake, but it's not fast enough. The yellow warning lights turn red to indicate that the previously locked on missiles have been fired and are now tracking him. According to the radar, all three of the Imperial fighters on his tail got off what appear to be concussion missiles. While not as powerful as proton warheads, three of the things could very well destroy the Phoenix.
"Well, this is troublesome," says Kelvin to the air. There's no ship in space that can outrun a concussion missile. Their low mass and high powered thrusters can't be matched for speed, so not even the Jade Phoenix can out pace them. But she can out fly them.
Yanking the flight controls, Kelvin pulls the Phoenix into a high speed rolling turn. The inertial dampeners are doing their duty as the only feedback from the maneuvers Kelvin is pulling are mild shifts in pressure from one side to another. A few seconds into a corkscrew climb leading him past a bulk freighter, Kelvin hears Ferg and Silgar calling out through the intercom that they're strapped in and ready to use the turbolasers on the top and bottom of the Phoenix. With orders to gun down the homing missiles, the two start tracking their targets.
The missiles are chasing tight on the Phoenix's tail and hard to shoot because of the angle of chase, being right behind the engine's slipstream and getting cover from the Phoenix's own hull. Gonna have to shake them off a little for the turrets to get a bead on 'em.
Turning the controls hard over, the Phoenix goes into a hairpin turn, killing her momentum but banking hard enough to get a little breathing room from the pursuing missiles that are specialized for speed and not maneuverability. In fact, one of the missiles tries to bank to sharply and gets caught in its on engine contrail, lighting the side on fire and detonating the warhead early and safely away from the Phoenix. That's one down.
Kelvin can hear the sounds of the turbolaser's fire echoing through the ship as he jukes the Phoenix back and forth to stay one step ahead of the missiles and give Ferg and Silgar clear shots. Around the fifth juke, one more missile drops off the radar and Kelvin hears Silgar's victorious "Ha-harr!" Two down.
Kelvin adjusts his turn to give Ferg an easier shot at the last missile, hearing an "Almost there" coming through the intercom connecting the turrets and the bridge. Then the raking fire from the Imperial fighters sears its way right in front of the Phoenix's flight path. Kelvin would have slapped himself if he didn't need both hand to fly the Phoenix, because in his hurry to shake off the missiles he forgot what direction he was traveling. Kelvin had been going right back towards the spaceport and the fighters he had shaken off in his first burst of speed!
Banking sharply to avoid being perforated by the fighters, Kelvin is forced to ruin Ferg's shot at the last moment, and pulls a hard turn. This turn ended up putting Kelvin on a head on collision course with another fleeing smuggler's freighter. Kelvin could actually feel his gut clench as he pivots the Phoenix to line the other freighter up with the flat underbelly of his ship, hoping to avoid smashing into the other without sacrificing speed. With a crunching jolt, the communications dish of the other freighter strikes the transparent paneling of the cockpit, blinding Kelvin's view for a moment as the freighters go past each other, mostly undamaged but for Silgar cussing loudly from the extremely close flyby passing right along his view, the tips of his turbolasers flashing sparks as they scrape the hull of the other vessel.
With a shuddering intake of air, Kelvin breaths again. And then the concussion missile hits. The entire ship jolts with the force of the blast and lights flicker. With a sideways glance, Kelvin sees that the shields are weakened but holding, and the hull is still sound. Another glance shows that the Phoenix is free of the planet Meraleek and her space station's gravity fields. A last glance shows that the Phoenix has enough breathing space to go to Lightspeed. Now that the high explosives have been taken care of one way or the other, Kelvin has the few seconds he needs to grab the heavy lever that controls the hyperdrive and give it a triumphant yanks.
The shuddering whine becomes a pathetic choking putt-putt-putt as the hyperdrive fails to initiate, the lever automatically stopping halfway down its gear's path. Looking around quickly, Kelvin frantically checks the systems that would cause the safety lock on the hyperdrive to initiate. Kinetic shielding is fine. The hyperdrive itself is working. Engines are optimal. Nav-computer processing at three percent complete.
"Damn it!"
The blast from the missile must have caused a power surge or something to disrupt the nav-computer. The old thing has been needing attention for a while, but Kelvin never thought the system would choose this moment to screw him over so badly. The computer is essential to faster than light travel, because without one the chances of being torn apart by gravity fields, asteroid belts, stars, or even black holes is very real.
Kelvin is brought back to the present by the fast paced striking of laser fire against the Phoenix's hull as the three Imperial fighter scream past. Kicking the engines back up to full, Kelvin peels off in a direction that will cause the currently banking flight of fighters to have to alter their course again, buying the Phoenix just this little bit of time. The engine warning light and an alarm start blaring, forcing Kelvin's attention onto it. The engine's coolant pressure is falling.
"Silgar, get to the engine!" shouts Kelvin into the intercom. "The Imps hit our coolant lines! I need them fixed before the Phoenix goes up in flames!"
"You're always so dramatic. I'm on my way."
Despite the Cathar's laid back reply, Kelvin can hear him moving for the engine room at a run. But running isn't going to fix matters fast enough, since the engine's temperature is rising already at the Phoenix's current speed. Cursing under his breath, Kelvin is forced to reduce throttle allowing the Imperial fighters to get back into shooting distance again. The fighters waste no time taking advantage of that fact.
With a constant stream of laser fire raining down, Kelvin is using every juke, dive, and bank in his library of flight patterns to keep from taking any hits. So far he's been successful, but it's not enough. The nav-computer is still only at 25% complete and those fighters will only get more accurate.
Finally, impressed by the relentless assault, Ferg says into the intercom, "Wow, these guys are really trying hard to kill us, Captain."
"Then kill 'em right back, Ferg!"
"Aye, aye!"
Given permission to fire on the Imperials, an automatic death sentence if captured, Ferg starts blaring away at the flight of fighters. Caught unaware, one goes down immediately and the other two bank off to dodge the Phoenix's now returning fire. As Ferg gives a voice cracking "Whoo-hoo!" Kelvin takes stock of his surroundings. The engine's temperature is just barely holding steady at this lowered speed, but that won't be enough to dodge the Imperials, let alone out run them. And it's going to be a few more minutes until the nav-computer is done with its jump processing. Kelvin has very few options at this point, surrender being none of them. He signed on to smuggle cargo for SIS, went so far as to gather all that grain to mask it, and Kelvin's not about to ruin his record of successes on a job like this. There are too many lives on the line, including his own. Kelvin is not about to deprive the universe of an ace pilot like himself.
The radar detects another flight of three Imperial fighters moving on an intercept course, called in to help deal with the Jade Phoenix and her resistance.
That does it. Kelvin can handle two fighters, but five is too much for any evasive action. Well, any normal evasive action.
With a sharp yank, the Phoenix pitches, rolls, and dives into the incoming traffic lane for the space station. All those dozens of ships stacked on top of each other in a nice orderly line, dozens more being added even as the Phoenix approaches because of the station going into lockdown. It's the perfect place to give those Imperials a little fox hunt.
Passing within ten meters of a massive freighter, Kelvin pulls back on the stick and drops his throttle a little more, pulling into a sharp U-turn and then sliding up ninety degrees to follow close to the freighter's underbelly, using it's bulk to hide from the fighters. But Kelvin doesn't stop moving, he knows there is no sense in hiding even before the two fighter flight passes by and starts tracking his movements.
"Let's see you follow me here, ya blue-balled pansies!"
With his unheard challenge, Kelvin ups the throttle again after having surveyed the field ahead of him. It's bad, but Kelvin can handle it. The increase in speed pushes Kelvin back into the chair slightly, but he doesn't feel it. Kelvin can't even see the console, he's so at one with his ship that he doesn't even need it anymore. Every vibration, every sound, every nut and bolt tells him everything he needs to know. The Phoenix is the other half of his soul, a bride twenty years in the making and he's treating her to a night out on the town. There will be dancing.
The vibrating hum of the enormous freighter's engine as it passes over the cockpit is enough to break through even the vacuum of space, and the bombardment of energy from it's propulsion causes the Phoenix to shudder as she pulls up and into it's energy contrail. Not daring to move into that, the two fighter flight peals off, coordinating their movements with the second flight which is howling in from above to take their shots at the target. Quickly leveling the Phoenix out of her climb, Kelvin spins her axis to slip through another two long heavy cargo freighters, only meters of clearance on either side of the flat Phoenix's hull. Their chance at a clean shot denied, the three fighter flight peels off, tracking their prey like hounds running along the outskirts of a bramble they dare not dive into. And just like a pack of hounds they stay on the Phoenix's trail, following the craft's heading, waiting for their fox to run out of thickets to hide in.
The Imperials are ambitious and bloodthirsty, but Kelvin is cold and focused. Every time he passes by the cover of one vessel he has to instantly adjust his heading and alignment with the next set of freighters and smugglers in the line. But he doesn't adjust his speed, as Kelvin doesn't dare slow his momentum by a sliver. With his mouth dry and bitter, his pulse pounding so hard he feels it behind the eyes that dare not blink, Kelvin keeps his ongoing gamble up, keeping the stakes too high for the Imperials to dare try following him close enough to take a shot. At length, Kelvin hears Ferg's complaining voice but only registers it in the back of his mind. "Ah, cripes, Captain. You keep this up and I'm gonna puke!"
Over the intercom, Silgar's rough voice follows soon after the kid's, saying, "If you're gonna vomit, do it on yourself and not on my targeting systems, child! Kelvin! I've patched up the coolant leak, so you should be able to put the engine through her paces now!"
Kelvin hears the words, but he doesn't trust them until he fiddles with the thrust himself a little. And then he agrees with the verdict. The Jade Phoenix is dancing with both her legs now.
With a blast of thrust, Kelvin pulls back on the stick going into an inverted climb right past a shocked Imperial fighter that breaks off from his run to re-gather his courage. Another fighter instantly changes course to try an intercept angle before the fast moving target can gain distance, but a burst of Ferg's turbolaser fire severs a wing and the fighter turns into a rolling fireball, putting the craft out of the fight.
With a flick of the eyes, Kelvin sees the words Calculation Complete on the nav-computer display and realizes it's now or never. Putting the thrust to maximum, the Jade Phoenix leaves her cover far behind and the regrouping Imperial fighters along with it.
Having put distance between the Phoenix and her pursuers once more, Kelvin gets ready for the big finish to this dance number and reaches for the Hyperdrive again. With a heavy pull, the stars blur and stretch into an almost blinding field of white as Kelvin is pushed back into his seat by the insanely great shift in speed and mass. Just as the field of white seems bright enough to force a man to squint, the Jade Phoenix is safely traveling at Lightspeed, and is going to fast for the light of the stars to be seen by the naked eye, the gentle blue glow of the protective envelope taking its place. And Kelvin finally begins breathing again, without even knowing when he stopped.
Falling back into his chair, the tension and concentration having drained him of all strength, Kelvin can only smile contentedly and say quietly, "We sure cut a rug tonight, didn't we babe?"
Ferg's excited cheer soon cuts in on the afterglow and both the kid and Silgar enter into the cockpit. After a quick status update on the engine, solid and expected to hold until they reach Coruscant, Kelvin gives his orders. "Alright, Ferg. Swap out our fake transmitter. Silgar, start digging out our real cargo, I want to make sure it hasn't suffered any. And be careful with the grain, I really do have a buyer for it. I'll join you in a minute."
Ferg dives for the console, rapping just the right parts to disengage the trick bulkhead and get immediate access to the transponder before smacking the side of his head and heading out to get his forgotten tools. Silgar heads out to get an empty cargo container to dump excavated grain into and a pair of shovels. Kelvin heads to his room for a shot of hard spirits and to wash his face to help him feel human again instead of feeling like a run down wind up toy.
With both Kelvin and Silgar digging into the grain, they quickly unearth the haul ropes, hook them to a portable pulley, and winch the long narrow crate they had been hiding at the bottom of the large wide grain crate clear of the chaff. With a swing and a catch, the two smugglers lower the precious cargo onto the floor plating, clear the securements, and open the air tight case. With a rush of pressure equalization, the container is open, and the comatose human male of over forty years of age is exposed to fresh air once again.
The built in rebreather is still operating, the drugs still have his life signs at minimal, and after the administration of a shot of the stimulant, he's wide awake once again and blinking hard against the light. Moving lazily, the informant gropes like he'd just awoke with a hangover, though that may not be far from the truth. With a slurred muttering, he asks Kelvin how things went.
Pointing with a thumb at the Imperial corpses on the hold's floor, Kelvin says, "Could have gone a lot smoother. The Imperials had some new series of scanning equipment. We passed the scanning types; minerals, metals, silicones, precious stone, and energy fields. But they somehow got a reading on you with the life scan. I had to get creative after that, so make sure your handler knows my price has gone up."
"I'll let him know," says the informer, who has not given even Kelvin a name to call him by. "And my family…?"
"We haven't pulled them out yet, but they should be fine. You can head to the galley to freshen up while you wait for us to dig 'em out."
"Thank you," says the informer as he gets onto his shaky feet. "I will do just that. Hopefully my handler will have our new identities ready by the time we reach Coruscant. My information will save a great many Republic lives, so I feel three new ones are a fair exchange."
Answering the informant's knowing smile with one of his own, Kelvin says, "I don't care to know about that sort of thing, fella. My involvement typically ends with the credit transfer."
The informant nods slowly. "Yes. It is typically smarter and safer to not get personally involved in matters like these. But working like that is not nearly as interesting."
The old man's smile as he turned to leave the hold after dropping that wisdom bomb stuck with Kelvin, even after having dug out the wife and daughter and watched the happy family's reunion as the ship continues its flight. Kelvin watched that old man carefully. By all rights the spirit of adventure should have died out of a guy like that, who's obviously spent years chained down by a family and a desk job. Smiles like that should be impossible for him. A smile that's daring life to take a shot at him so he can dodge it, or living each moment to the fullest knowing you've got even more interesting times ahead.
A smile like the one Kelvin always has on his face when he's hard pressed flying the Jade Phoenix.
But Kelvin doesn't smile like that at any other time. He's a professional smuggler. But that term, "Independent Transporter," seems nice too. Kelvin will probably use it in the future.
It's Kelvin's job to not ask questions, to just go for the goal and leave the rest to other people. It's safer that way. But flying the Jade Phoenix is only really fun when there's danger involved, and the risk of disaster should he make a mistake.
At great length, Kelvin decides that the old man was right. Safety is boring. And by the time the Jade Phoenix lands on Coruscant under the protection of another fake transponder to offload the grain and deliver the informant's family, Kelvin has already made up his mind.
"Here's the bill for this last job," Kelvin says handing a datapad to the aged and longcoat wearing contact that goes by the name "Mr. Boots." "And at the bottom you'll see my retainer for waiting until the next one."
"Your what?" asks the young woman wearing a similar longcoat that is always beside Mr. Boots. Unlike the completely unremarkable and forgettable contact, this woman who acts as his assistant is quite eye catching with her perfect mix of tanned skin, dark hair, and piercingly black eyes.
"I figure that whatever you learn from your man, you're going to need transport again real soon. I want in."
"It will be far more dangerous than this last mission," comes Mr. Boot's monotone statement.
"Well, I've decided to try living dangerously for a while. Seems far more interesting."
Kelvin's smile is that of a hungry animal that has been given a bite of a tasty meal, and waiting to pounce on the rest of it. A look that Mr. Boots likes very much, enough for him to lift a corner of his mouth in a smile that is rarely seen from the man. "Then we will be contacting you shortly with details. Your unique talents will come in handy."
Before Mr. Boots could finish turning to leave, Kelvin stops him. "While we're chatting, I need to tell you now. We're going to need a Slicer. This last job nearly fell apart because I couldn't get out of a random security scan. If we had had someone that could have altered the Imperial databanks to make them think we'd been scanned already we would have gotten away with a much lower profile."
"I thought it was because you failed to account for the scanner," accuses the young lady.
"Hard to be prepared for prototypes, ma'am," says Kelvin with more manners than the comment deserved. "But Silgar is working on reverse engineering their technology and coming up with a way to cheat the Imperial's new tech."
"I agree with your idea," says Mr. Boots, not showing any sign that he actually means what he is saying. "Since you'll be working more closely with us, I do not mind loaning you a Slicer. My best in fact. Ms. Long, you will be joining Mr. Riggs' crew." Before Mr. Boots' assistant can voice her indignance, the man continues with an emphatic, "Effective immediately."
Giving up the fight before she even tries to argue her point, she mutters that she will gather her things. With the lady gone, Kelvin asks how good the gal really is. Mr. Boots' response is without any apparent pride. "She is the one that crafted all those transponders you have so often complimented. She is the best that I have available to me. And she just so happens to be a person I can trust. You will not regret having her aboard your vessel."
With a departing handshake, Kelvin heads into the Jade Phoenix to get the cabins ready for a new member of the crew. Ms. Long arrives shortly, deposits her belongings, and Kelvin gives her a tour of the ship.
"An…interesting vessel you have here…"
"I certainly hope not, interesting ships always get spotted by security!" cries Kelvin in reply to the strained attempt at amicability.
Kelvin's joke fails to please however, as the code-named young woman seems determined to be unhappy at her current fate and stays silent for the rest of the tour. After returning Ms. Long to the door to her quarters, Kelvin says, "You know, you have a very nice name. It really speaks to me."
"Really? What does it say?" asks Ms. Long uninterestedly.
With his patented winning smile, Kelvin says, "It tells me that there is no Mister Long, yet."
Giving Kelvin a hard, surprised look, Ms. Long steps inside her quarters, and closes the door without a word. After a few seconds, Kelvin steps away from the doorway with a huge grin on his face. Aside from being pretty, that girl has a fiery independence that Kelvin really takes a liking to, man or woman. And even though she's going to be a business contact from here on, she'll be living on the same ship as him. And Kelvin does like a challenge. Besides, mixing business and pleasure sounds dangerous enough to be quite interesting.
Walking down the corridor of the Jade Phoenix, Kelvin doesn't even realize he's already wearing a smile that's looking forward to the dangers tomorrow will bring.
