A Fork in the Road

By PerilousPie

Chapter 2: All the Difference it Made

Stepping back into Alibbi the next day, Zeb found the place just as welcoming. This time it was a little busier and the noise level was higher. He scanned the room and this time he spotted a Bith. He headed over, assuming that this was Meela Omk. She was a strange looking Bith, the large cranial dome was layered with creviced wrinkles, skin appearing leathery and tough rather than the smooth roundness that demarcated a Bith. Her large, shiny black eyes did not reflect the usual kindness and gentility of most Bith, they were sharp and piercing.

"Meela Omk," Zeb asked, standing by the round corner booth the woman was seated in.

She was alone, but she had all the accoutrements which pointed to her having recently had company at the table.

"Lasat," she replied, a spark of curiosity in her gaze as she eyed him.

"It's Orrelios," Zeb shot back, disliking the form of address.

"Of course, Orrelios," she trilled the 'r's with an amused smile on her lips, "sit down, please."

Zeb took a seat, already feeling uncomfortable with whoever this Bith was.

"I have an understanding that you were seeking my services," she said, reaching out with graceful hands for the tea set, one which clashed with the surroundings, that was on the table.

She poured a cup for herself and then one for Zeb.

"Yeah, I'm looking for a boy," Zeb stated, not taking the cup of tea she placed in front of him.

"I'm not a slaver," Omk said with an amused laugh, a touch of scorn in it which made it seem as if she were rebuking a child, "but I do have a few dolls who may appeal to your taste."

Zeb was too horrified to reply at first.

"No, that's not," Zeb spluttered, aghast at the implications, "I mean as in I lost a kid I was looking out for, the Imperials snatched him."

Omk's expression changed, and a more business like look fell over it.

"Ah, well, an honorable babysitter, I may be able to help," she said, looking away from Zeb to sip her tea.

Zeb bristled at her comment, clenching his jaw but keeping his cool.

"But first, you tell me what you have to offer."

Zeb hesitated. He really didn't have anything, not materially nor information wise. He had two good hands though, and all his knowledge of fighting and piloting to go with it.

"I do good work," Zeb started, intending to explain more.

"Ah, no, no, what is 'good work' to me? That means nothing," she interrupted, waving a hand at him.

"You know my kind, we're more skilled than ten humans put together, and I happen to have been a soldier, I can fight and I can fly," Zeb pressed his case.

Omk was quiet a few moments.

"Yes, yes, Lasats, that's true, but still," she hesitated, eyeing Zeb probingly.

Zeb watched in suspense as she took her time coming to a decision.

"Alright, we will try this," she finally said, "but, we do so on my terms. You are lucky that I am in a spot of difficulty. I have a shipment that I need picked up, my people seem incapable of doing so and anyone I wish to send cowers at it. You will do this for me, I will find this boy."

Zeb was surprised but relieved to hear her answer.

"Tomorrow you will go to the spaceport, Khuja will meet you there, she will know you. Today I hear about your boy and then I will find him for you."

Zeb gave a nod.

"Okay," he replied, "but how do I know you'll find the kid if I do this for you?"

"You don't," she said with a broad smile, "now, tell me of the boy, what he looks like, why he is with the Imperials."

Zeb hesitated. He wasn't sure if Omk could be trusted, Sibar definitely didn't like her.

"Blue haired, maybe eight or nine, he's got blue eyes as well, longish hair, we were trespassing when they nabbed him."

"Does he have a name?" She asked.

Zeb once again felt guilt course through him. He shook his head and Omk tilted her head in curiosity.

"Well, you meet Khuja, I find the boy," she said, dismissing him with a little wave of her hand.

Zeb got up, exiting the cantina.

Khuja was an angry looking Barabel. She spat as soon as she saw him, cussing in her own language. Zeb spat back, standing taller and swelling his chest. Khuja seemed pleased by the response. If Zeb remembered right from his past experience with a Barabel mercenary, power was respected and things such as sympathy considered insulting.

"Omk sends me drivel, you drivel too," her basic was terrible and Zeb had an idea that Khuja wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

Barabels were fearsome fighters and Zeb could respect that, if of course Khuja lived up to the expectation.

Turning from Zeb she stalked toward a small freighter that was docked, her long red ochre tail swishing heavily behind her. Zeb followed.

She slammed against the door panel, hissing in annoyance as her clawed fingers struggled with the locking mechanism. The door finally extended down, forming a ramp. Zeb followed Khuja in and then through a doorway to a small and cramped cockpit.

Khuja let out another hiss, gesturing frustratedly at the controls.

"Fly, for Omk, the one does not fly, so fly," Khuja spat out, eyeing him aggressively.

Zeb's brow raised but he said nothing. Sitting down, he studied the controls. They were straight forward, a little dated but it wasn't like he had ever steered anything new. Zhuja's clenched fist was thrust forward, extended by Zeb's shoulder. As Zeb looked over she opened her clawed hand to reveal a holo communication chip.

"Work," Zhuja said.

Zeb gave a nod.

"Right," he growled.

He wasn't exactly excited by this process, hating the whole 'beating around the bush', Meela Omk seemed to thrive on it though. He was doing this for something more though. The little blue haired boy was constantly in his mind, a figure that he could save unlike all those he had not been able to save before. Zeb would not fail this time.

Opening the holo message, Zeb read it. It was a mission on another planet, it was a decent amount of parsecs away, he'd be gone a week at the least. He didn't know too much about Mygeeto other than it was under Imperial rule and had a harsh landscape. The message didn't specify exactly what they were picking up other than that the local Lurmen had it and we're unable to get it to them. The instructions as to where it was located exactly on Mygeeto were highly specific.

"We're gonna be out in space a while," Zeb said for Khuja's benefit.

Khuja lout a grunt, turning to leave. Zeb shook his head, muttering under his breath about ill tempered Barabels. Starting the freighter up, he quickly got it out of port and into open space. Once out among the stars, he punched in the hyperspace coordinates and sat back. They were going to be a while, about four days there. Thankfully, Omk had supplied them with more than enough fuel for a trip there and back.

Letting his eyes close, Zeb let out a sigh and wondered how the boy was doing.

Ezra had been left at the post for over a day before one of the soldiers had dragged him back to the room. The chill of the cold floor was inviting at first, helping to soothe the horrible sunburn he'd attained out in the sun. The chill however spread and he began to shiver from it, a terrible feeling of heat on his skin and pained cold under it. He hadn't eaten in a day, and pain radiated from his stomach.

Having gently probed his ribcage earlier, Ezra had felt things amiss and he was sure that he had broken a bone.

A terrible sense of loneliness welled up in him. No one would save him, no one. His parents were gone, and nobody cared about an orphaned street rat. Ezra held back his tears and entered a delirious sleep.

During the four day trip, Zeb didn't see much of Khuja, she kept to herself and shouted or hissed at him whenever she did. Zeb didn't mind the fact and kept to himself as well. The nights were long sleepless things and he grew antsy from the lack of action.

Finally though, they arrived at Mygeeto. Rain was beating down, making Zeb's visual difficult. He managed to follow the coordinates and land on an old factory dock. Powering down the freighter, he exited the cockpit and saw that Khuja was preparing her blaster. Zeb checked his own weapon, the bo-rifle in good condition. Unfortunately the rain wouldn't be doing him any favors.

"Bloody weather," he muttered, staring out the transport doors and into the deluge that awaited them.

Khuja didn't look particularly happy about it either, glaring furiously at Zeb as if he controlled the weather and had made it rain to spite her. Zeb shook his head, pulling out the GPS synchronizer which was zeroed in on the shipment. Flicking it on Zeb watched the old piece of equipment warble before fading out. Zeb shook it, then smacked it against the palm of his hand. He was relieved to hear the warble come back on and become steady.

"We go?" Khuja snapped impatiently, staring expectantly at Zeb and the device in his hand.

"Yeah, yeah, we go," Zeb replied in annoyance, raising his rain poncho's hood and hoping it would keep at least some of his fur dry.

They walked along the factory platforms, headed into the heart of the facility. The pounding of the rain drowned out everything else, and Zeb, barely able to see through the down pour, squinted his eyes to see the door entrance. It was old, the door half wrenched away from its track. Long claw marks were etched along it and Zeb could see where part of the metal had been bent. A cold sense of foreboding well up in him. Even Khuja was staring at the marks, a solemn attention being paid which Zeb had yet to see on the unintelligent Barabel.

"Alright," Zeb said with a fortifying huff, edging his way through the half closed entry.

Inside the sound of the rain was muted, becoming a droning sound in the backdrop. It was replaced with an eerie silence which caused Zeb's teeth to grind. Khuja was flexing her fingers along her blaster, eyes keenly eyeing the dark passage before them. There wasn't anything to do but keep going. Minutes passed as they moved through the old factory, a few busted items and flotsam scattered through the halls.

Glancing down at the GPS synchronizer, Zeb was relieved to see that they were almost to the shipment. They entered a large room in the factory, old equipment rising around them like broken figures, abstract pieces of a nightmarish landscape. Zeb spotted a collection of crates near the front of the room, obviously having been readied for shipment. They were strange though, covered in dust and not looking new. Zeb looked down at the GPS synchronizer, wondering if it was still working.

Zeb shrugged, approaching the crates and looking them over. There were two, stacked on top of each other. Zeb knelt, searching for the grav. button. Finding it, he flicked it on and the crates immediately rose into a hover. Zeb grinned, maybe this would be easier than he thought.

Khuja let out a long low hiss. Zeb looked over at her to see her crouched in a defensive position, her blaster out.

Zeb tensed, standing up and drawing his bo-rifle off his back.

"What is it?" He asked.

Khuja gave no response.

A low growl issued off to Zeb's left and his eyes followed the noise. A figure emerged, gleaming yellow eyes hanging in the air. Zeb waited, the air tense. They needed to leave, now. Slamming his body into the crates, Zeb sent them flying back into the corridor, running with them. A large figure pounced, movements feline but appearing similar to a dog. A kriffing anooba. Zeb cussed, barely escaping its claws. Khuja shot the creature in the head sending it tumbling back with a yelp of pain. The hit didn't last long though and it was struggling to its feet seconds later.

They were flying down the hallway, the crate in front of Zeb and Khuja a meter behind him. Breath coming harsh and fast, Zeb could hear the sound of an anooba calling. They hunted in packs, eight to twelve usually, Zeb cussed again. They weren't bound to outrun a pack of anooba. Glancing over his shoulder, he regretted his action immediately, seeing that five anooba were closing in. Khuja was attempting to shoot behind them, unfortunately it was affecting her pace and she kept having to sprint to catch back up the meter she lost each time. She managed to strike two of the creatures.

They were nearly out, and Zeb felt a sense of hope bubble in him, they might just get out of this. Nearly to the half open door, Zeb twitched his ears, another distant sound catching his attention. It caused him to look to the side, an intersecting hallway they were passing coming into view along with another group of anooba. He barely managed to duck, the crates continuing on their journey to crash through the half open doorway they'd entered through. Khuja, not blessed with the preternatural hearing of a Lasat did not duck.

Zeb twisted from his kneeling position, bo-rifle at the ready, to assist Khuja. She was unmoving on the ground, the three new anooba already tearing her apart. He flinched at one which jerked back, tearing her limb from the socket. He didn't have time to think about it though. Throwing himself to his feet he sprinted for the doorway. The crates were just outside and Zeb slammed into them again, pushing them towards the ship. The anooba had taken a pause to investigate the first kill, and Zeb was able to appreciate Khuja's death. But he didn't doubt that they would soon make up their lost pace and go after him.

For a heart stopping minute all Zeb could feel was the rain pounding down on him, his heart thumping in his chest. He saw the small freighter he'd arrived in, he came to a sudden halt, fingers reaching for the keypad which would let him open the cargo door. He could hear the call of the anooba. Glancing behind him, he saw the pack approaching. The door let out a soft beep and began opening. Zeb grit his teeth, begging the door to open faster. The anooba were gaining ground and he could see their figures growing larger. When the door was open just enough, Zeb shoved the crates in and jumped in, dashing to the indoor key pad. Slamming his fist against the door button, he sank to the ground in relief as the doors shut.

A second later he heard the thud of bodies against the door and the angry baying of the anooba.

"Karabast," Zeb said, hands trembling from the adrenaline.

Khuja's mutilated corpse came to mind and he closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. No wonder Omk couldn't get anybody to pick up the shipment.

The four day trip back was long and unpleasant. Zeb was left to himself and his thoughts. Maybe he hadn't liked Khuja, or known her very well, but she'd died and he'd lived. His mind also wandered to the little boy who had also been sacrificed for Zeb's well being. It seemed he took and took, letting the many lives dependent on him go to waste. He wondered if the Imperials had been kind, if maybe for once the boy had been fed. Or, if they had thrown him in a cell and left him there to rot like they'd done to so many others. He couldn't imagine what other prisoners, some hardened criminals, would do to a little boy.

Landing back on Lothal was a relief. He'd called Omk after getting back into space, and the kriffing Bith had actually sounded surprised to hear that he'd lived. She'd known and she hadn't warned him. She wasn't the first criminal he'd met though, so all that mattered was that she had the information he needed.

It was afternoon by the time he landed and docked the little freighter. Omk was waiting for him right outside, a small entourage surrounding her. The group of rather shady looking men grabbed the crates and Omk walked over to Zeb.

"You succeeded, it seems you lived up to your words," she sounded pleased.

Zeb was not amused.

"It might'a been nice to mention the anooba," he said, unhappy about how everything had turned out.

"Yes, yes, but I had a feeling you would be a little more sensical than our dear Khuja, a real shame about her," Omk didn't seem too torn up.

Zeb grit his teeth but didn't say anything despite wanting to snap the old Bith's neck. She'd known and she didn't care.

"Now, I have gained the knowledge you were seeking, the little boy is being kept in the southern most outpost in the city, he is the only prisoner being kept there. I'm afraid I have not heard good things about how he is kept though," Omk explained.

Zeb felt his heart drop at the last sentence. Omk seemed for the first time to express some sympathy. Pressing an envelop into Zeb's hand she patted him on the cheek in a strange maternal way.

"What's this?" Zeb said, confused.

He opened it to see a large quantity of credits inside.

"I like you, Mr. Orrelios," Omk said, eyes twinkling, "and maybe you will like me back."

The entourage, minus a few men, came back and one flourished an umbrella to keep the Bith from the sun.

"If you need work, look no further than the Alibbi," Omk said before moving slowly back into the market street.

Zeb watched her go, ignoring her men who took hold of the freighter.

Zeb knew exactly where the outpost Omk had mentioned was. A bit out of the way and not exactly where he would think they'd keep a prisoner. He headed in that direction as soon as Omk was gone and he figured out where he would be going.

He reached it easily enough, a rectangular building with an archway which lead into a courtyard. A bit local and a bit old for an Imperial post, but Zeb had no doubt that it was reserved for soldiers who did something displeasing or were just not good enough to get better orders.

Slinking around the building, he peered through what windows there were, a few were curtained, most likely the quarters for the soldiers, but some were not. These ones were all on one wall, each barred with sets of archaic metal bars. Zeb peered through the first three and saw nothing, at the fourth he spotted a small body in the corner of the empty room. Staring, he realized it was the boy. There were rust red stains on some of the dirt floor and the boy was curled as far into a ball as he could.

"Kid," Zeb hissed.

There was no response. Zeb let out a soft 'karabast' before contemplating the metal bars. They might be something he could pull out, with an experimental hand he tugged at one. It didn't give, so Zeb leaned back before slamming into it with his forearm. He felt the surrounding material give and a grin lit up his face. With a few more well aimed hit, the bar did give out and Zeb set to work on the second and the third. He got out five of them before there was enough room for him to wiggle through.

Landing on the floor of the cell, he softly approached the small body. He could smell old blood, sweat, the stench of someone who had not bathed in a while, and the reek of bodily fluids. Worry sprang up, and he wondered what the Imperials had done.

"Kid," Zeb said softly.

The boy's head turned and luminous blue eyes stared up at him in fear. A tiny squeak of terror issued from the boy before he clenched his eyes shut and tried to curl further into himself. Zeb felt sick, the boy's face had been heavily bruised, a nasty gash cutting across his chin. Kneeling down he carefully set his hand on the boy's shoulder, his palm engulfing the tiny shoulder.

The boy flinched and tried to curl into himself even more. Zeb heard the sound of movement from somewhere else in the jail. He cursed, as much as this situation deserved a careful slow approach, he knew that they needed to get out now.

"I'm not gonna hurt ya," Zeb tried to reassure, hands slipping under the boy and drawing him up.

More damage was revealed and Zeb felt horror pulse through him. One of the boy's arms was broken, he was much skinnier than Zeb remembered and it seemed as if he'd been beaten severely. The boy let out a choked cry of pain and fear.

"Shhh, shhh," Zeb said, trying to be soothing, he didn't need the Imperials coming over to investigate.

He drew the boy to his chest, carefully cradling him. A sound of a door opening and footsteps nearing had Zeb casting a cautious look to the door.

He peered down at his precious cargo.

"How about we get out of here?" He said softly, heading to the window and slipping out.

He took a moment to readjust the boy in his arms before heading off.