Chapter 2
Officer jr. grade Max Sleen pushed with his toes and pulled with his elbows. His shoulders were starting to ache because he could barely move them, his head was pounding as if there were a thousand miniature wookies inside it, punching their way out.
He had awoken to the sound of the medic's voice speaking in that loud, maternal, disconnected voice that all medics use. "Officer Sleen? Officer Sleen? Can you hear me?" How could someone sound so nurturing and so cold at the same time, as if they were a tourist talking to someone who didn't know Basic? "Officer Sleen? You've suffered a concussion. I've given you some kolto and a shot of Nextal which will keep you from suffering any permanent injury. Officer Sleen? Can you hear me?"
"I can hear you. Oh blast!" Sleen had tried to sit up.
"Just lie still for a moment, Officer. Let the Nextal take effect."
"Will he be okay?"
"Of course he will," another, gruffer voice had said. "Get up Sleen. You have some explaining to do." The Mon Calamari behind that voice was their commander, Maren Drook. Despite the pain and disorientation, Sleen had felt his stomach churn. He had glanced over and saw his commander in his CSF battle uniform: starched, pressed, stiff, impeccable.
"Commander, I think the officer..." the medic had begun.
"On your feet!" boomed Drook's voice, echoing in the lobby.
Sleen was up and on his feet before he knew what had happened. The room lurched around him. A wave of nausea swept over him. He had felt his spine stiffen, then the floor moving toward him very fast.
Through the fog of semi-consciousness he had been able to pick up details of a discussion. Assassination. Building shut down. Holding the party goers. Taken out by someone they could only assume was the assassin. Roof access. Needed to check the vents. Drook saying he knew the perfect man. His team looking down, glancing at him out of the corner of their eyes.
Now here he was, worming his way through the ventilation system, wishing he hadn't had that second piece of cake at the party. His mind wandered. It was Breel's birthday. She'd smiled at him when he brought her that glass of fizz-juice, her finger just lingering as it touched his. Breel wasn't the prettiest girl in his unit, but she was pretty enough and seemed amenable. He was working up the nerve to invite her to a holo-vid and dinner. His minds-eye was fixed on her holding his hand during a particularly tense scene when he realized his non-fantasy hand was wet.
"Ugh." He lifted his hand and looked down at it. Blood. I've cut myself! No. Not cut. What the kriff.
Officer Sleen realized he hadn't cut himself. He realized that it wasn't his blood. He realized he had just climbed out of a pile of Bantha shit.
Rehn Tekoha walked to the front of his cargo bay. He walked up to a featureless bulkhead and reached out with the force, pushing an invisible lever built inside of the heavy, metal support. There was a click and a square meter hole appeared in the bulkhead. He took the box out of his valise, placed it inside the compartment, toggled a switch and pulled back his hand as the opening slowly closed, snapping shut, the door vanishing from sight. He stared at the invisible door a moment, bent down and picked up the valise. He walked back through the cargo bay and touched the panel.
The door slid up. DV-97 hovered at eye level, it's four red photoreceptors glowing out from its black hemi-spherical body. It looked like a demon's bowl turned upside down, a cryptic jungle of instruments, antennae, and tools dangling from it's underside. It almost seemed to be looking over Rehn's shoulder into the cargo bay, "The holo-link you requested is ready, master. We will be ready to make contact once we leave the system. We wouldn't want the Hutts...or anyone else...listening in."
"Mm. Thank you, DeeVee. Download the latest navigational information and take us into orbit." His head was still throbbing. It was difficult to breath.
"Of course." DeeVee retreated slightly, spun slowly in the air and floated down the green-gray corridor. I should really get a new droid, thought Rehn, not for the first time. But DeeVee was an excellent pilot and did what it was told. He followed a few paces behind, turning into his quarters on the right. The quarters were roomy, since he was the only one who ever stayed on the ship. Painted with blues and greens, there was a bed at the far end of the room, a large closet, refresher and meditation cushion. Nearer the door a desk and work area. He placed the valise next to the desk, tossed his ident card on top of it, removed his jacket and threw it over the chair. He grabbed a few pain killers from a bottle in the refresher then walked back into the corridor.
The original HE-400 "Ketch" was an all purpose small transport. Not big enough for freight, but bigger than a shuttle, an unremarkable ship. Rehn had his modified, giving him a large living area for long journeys. There was another guest room across the corridor, smaller, but still spacious. In a pinch he could accommodate a few passengers. Part of the room could also be closed off and used as a brig, something he had done once or twice.
He felt the ship rise into the air, turned and walked toward the con. Medical/research lab on the right, communications/computer room on the left. Up a short ramp and he was greeted with a view of the squalid skyscrapers of Nar Shaada speeding past. DeeVee was plugged into the droid interface on the left; Rehn walked over and sat down on the right, glancing at the engineering and gunnery readouts. The ship was not particularly fast, not in this medium, but rose up and into the starry black of outer-space without difficulty.
The space lanes around Nar-Shaada were flooded with traffic. Huge bulk freighters, some with fighter escort, smaller freighters, shuttles, space liners, mining ships, pleasure craft, all wove around each other in complex patterns. Rehn picked out the odd warship, including a Republic Hammerhead cruiser.
"Look at that," Rehn muttered, almost to himself. "Never thought I would ever see a Hammerhead orbiting Nar-Shaada."
"A sign of things to come?"
"Mm. Let's go."
"Waiting on you, master."
The stars elongated and spread out, the familiar smear of hyperspace light filling the field of view. This is where the ship really shone. It was fast in hyperspace. Really fast; and it had a navicomputer that could calculate a jump in almost half the time as most ships.
"We'll be out of the system in just a minute, master."
"Fine," replied Rehn. He got out of the seat and walked back the short distance to the communication and computer room. The large holo display dominated the center of the room, computer consoles and indecipherable readouts lining the walls. Rehn checked the display and entered his personal encryption code. He felt a dull lurch as the ship dropped out of hyperspace into the dark, silent expanse between stars. He pushed the modestly flashing button on the console.
Five seconds later a hooded figure shimmered into existence above the holo display. "Master Lamar," Rehn addressed the ghostly figure.
"Master Tekhoa. Well, I'm looking at you so I reckon you were successful."
"Successful. However there was resistance. I was attacked by three Sith as I returned to my ship. One was very powerful."
"I see you still have your arms and legs. Were you injured?"
"Nothing that kolto and a good night's rest won't take care of."
"Good," he said, smiling. "I'm afraid we lost Ro'zhal, last week. She was ambushed as well and we lost the item."
Rehn looked down. "Mm."
"Mm indeed. I believe someone has cracked our financial operation. We'll need to open new shell companies, setup trades. Master Lo will be busy for weeks. In the mean time, I want you to return to Coruscant. I'll meet you there. Something has come up that I would like you to look into."
"Oh?"
"Yes. A Gran researcher has been killed. Professional job. We'll discuss the details when you arrive."
"And the artifact?"
"Bring it to Coruscant. The Masters here will destroy it completely."
"Very well. I'll see you on Coruscant."
"On Coruscant." Vrook Lamar's image leaned forward and then winked into nothing. Rehn looked at the holo display a long minute. He turned and walked back to the conn.
"Set a course for Coruscant, DeeVee, we're headed back to the temple. And let's go ahead and change our transponder again. Make it the official, Jedi one."
"Yes, master. Transponder set to Fate's Eclipse." The stars swerved around the cockpit as DeeVee set the ship on course. There was a pause. For a second the ship seemed to hang in nothingness, sundered from the rest of the universe, and then the stars became streaks once again as the ship entered hyperspace.
"I'm going in the back. I need some kolto, a shower and some rest."
Rehn walked down the ramp, down the corridor and into this room. He pulled off his boots and threw them in a corner. He sat down on the bed and pulled his socks off and stood, his naked soles on the cool carpet, trying to roll the hurt out of his shoulders. He unclipped his belt hanging it in the closet and placed his lightsaber in a metal lock box on his desk. He took off his pants and shirt and dropped them in the laundry. Naked, he looked at himself in the mirror. The burns were red and angry. His torso and arms especially looked swollen and blistered. He stepped into the shower, turned on the cold water and let it wash the worst of the Nar Shaada grime and sweat off. The cold water felt good, cooling his hot skin. He turned the water off and padded down to the console and medical bed in the lab. He pulled up a kolto treatment on the screen, made a few adjustments, laid down on the gurney. Medical instruments snaked out of the nearby panel and Rehn Tekoha fell into a deep sleep.
"You will release the lockdown and let my ship take off this instant!"
"I will do not such thing!"
The Duro was beside himself with rage and impotence, little droplets of spit had gathered at the folds of his lips. He seethed, "This is the end of you, Drook! I will end you!"
"The assassin will not escape, not while I am charge, not while I can stop her!" He slammed his fist down on the console, deactivating the holo transmision.
Sleen had jumped at the bang. He was diligently not looking toward his commanding officer. He glanced again at Ood Thood's file. Gran. Born on Taris. Minor charges of assault, petty theft, occasional smuggling. Ood had been clean for the last ten years.
He looked at the report he had just brought up. The piece of paper that had saved him. Human. Female. Late twenties. Dark hair. Pale skin. Blue eyes. No record of the assassin in any database. Not surprising. Had probably hired a slicer to pull any previous records.
The report was good. They had a good description and her genes. If someone made a stop, they'd be able to make an ID – unless the assassin had found a way to change her DNA. The lock down would keep her from leaving this sector.
Sleen dared a glance toward Drook. His large, bulbous eyes were fixed on a holo-frame on his desk. The female Mon-calamari looked up from the datapad she was reading, a slight, domestic smile appeared her face. Drook clenched his fist, then looked up at Sleen, who caught himself staring.
A red light lit up on Drook's console followed by a sharp tone. He slapped the indicator. Sleen realized he had been holding his breath.
"Commander Drook, the docking authority is reporting a disturbance at private starship docking wheel 37. Apparently someone was trying to get into one of the docking bays."
Drook grabbed his hat, threw on his coat and picked up his belt with its blaster. "Get a speeder ready, boy. You're driving." Sleen felt a weight slide from his shoulders as he left the office.
Moments later Drook was tapping the arm rest of the air speeder as it cut through the ever present Coruscant traffic, siren and lights going.
"You think it's her?" asked Sleen.
"I don't know," replied Drook.
"I hope it is."
Drook looked at him at of the corner of his eye.
"Just – well I hope we get her."
"Well, so do I."
"Just, we," Sleen stuttered. "We all know the regent was pretty pissed."
"You do, do you."
"Well, we heard the yelling out in the squad room. We, uh, we want you to know we're behind you one hundred per cent."
"Thank you officer."
They road in silence.
"It's just..." Sleen started again, "we know things with your wife," Drook stiffened. Sleen stuttered.
"Shut the kriff up, now boy."
"Sorry, sir," stumbled Sleen.
"I said, shut the kriff up."
Sleen was going to say, "yes, sir," caught the look on the commander's face and kept his eyes on the air lane in front of him.
Sixty seconds later their air speeder slid down to docking wheel 37. There was a unit of Corusec Special Squad and a Customs Officer milling one of the large landing bay doors. There was a score mark on the door. Drook jumped out of the air speeder and motioned Sleen to stay put.
"Looks like someone took a shot," said Drook as he strode up to the cluster of uniforms.
"Yes, sir," answered the lead of the Special Squad, "we were just getting a report from Officer Kehl here."
Kehl stepped forward. She was dressed in a custom's officer uniform, hat pulled down on her head, blaster slung at her side. She had an tough, awkward, gangly air, like she wasn't quite comfortable in her skin, but would take on a Wookie if she had too. She spoke out from under her cap.
"I was walking my patrol when I saw a perp down the corridor playing around by the door. Course with a lock down, that made me pretty suspicious. I identified myself as a customs agent, ordered them to halt and identify themselves. They ignored me. I drew my blaster and told them to stop. They went for a gun; I fired a warning shot here," she indicated the blaster scar. "They shot back. I dove into an alcove. When I looked back, they were gone."
"Did you get a good look," asked Drook.
"No, sir. They were a ways down the corridor. Human female. Dark hair. Medium build. Seemed to know what they were doing."
"All right. Thank you officer," said Drook.
Drook turned to the Corsec Special Agent. "Okay. Lieutenant," he looked at the Rodian's uniform, "Fleenu. I want you to take your squad and fan out. Search this docking wheel top to bottom. Every nook and cranny. I don't believe she'll go far. She needs that ship." He took out his comlink as Fleenu spoke quietly with his team, gesturing in different directions. "Korl. This is Commander Drook. I need two more squads at landing wheel 37 immediately. I want them armed and armored. Bring a couple of high-res scanners too. I also want to lock down this wheel for three full blocks above and below and on each side, every means of egress locked down. There's a place to set up a command center on the next level, bring what we need."
"On it," the voice replied.
"Commander?" It was Officer Kehl.
"Yes, officer."
"I should really inspect this landing bay, see what's' there. It is my jurisdiction."
Drook paused. "Makes sense."
He walked up to the door controls and entered his personal authorization. "I want you to take one of my men. He turned to the air car, "Sleen! Get over here." Sleen jumped out of the car and walked over to Drook, anxious to make up for the the bungled drive over.
Drook walked over to the air car, meeting Sleen half-way. "I want you to stick with that customs officer. Her name is Kehl. Learn what you can and watch her. She might be able to teach you a few things."
Sleen looked over Drook's shoulder. He saw the woman, her body dwarfed by the gigantic bay door as it raised into the ceiling. She took a step through.
"Yes, sir." He paused. "Sir, about earlier...I"
"Shut the krif up, Sleen, and get to work."
Sleen ran off as Drook turned, stepped into the air speeder and ascended to the next level.
Sleen jogged toward the open bay door. "Hey wait up," he called after Kehl as he saw her step off to the left and out of sight. He came to a stumbling stop as he entered the landing bay. The ship was black. To Sleen it did not so much seem to rest on its landing gear,as to lurk, as if at any moment it would come alive and set him of fire from the inside out. He knew it was foolish to judge a ship by its appearance, but he couldn't help it. It was a demon ship: speed; stealth; danger; death. He had no doubt it had taken many lives and that each life fed it's dark power.
He closed his mouth, realizing he must have looked brain dead and searched around for the customs officer. She was over in a corner, leaning over a group of small containers. He heard the bay door closing as he walked over. There was something familiar about her. What was her name? Ken? Kess? Kehl. That was it. Did he know a Kehl?
As he came close, Kehl straightened up. She turned and faced him. "You?" Sleen said. "What are you doing..." He never finished his question.