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"You want us to what?" Corso yelled in disbelief, jerking backwards away from Viidu in anger.
The fat smuggler jabbed a finger at him. "My client paid for four crates of blasters! Captain Tsel'rianeen needs to deliver them to me."
"But her ship was stolen!" Corso shouted. "By one of your men, no less. How can you expect her to make good on the deal now?"
Rian was watching silently, reading the body language that Corso was too worked up to notice. "Because he's scared of something," she said. Corso whipped around to stare at her in shock but she ignored him and held Viidu's eyes. "I'd guess his client isn't a nice man, and Viidu knows he's a dead man if he can't deliver."
"And I won't be the only one," the fat man said ominously. "I'll make sure Rogan the Butcher knows all about the problems with his shipment." Rian had to quickly smother a laugh. The man actually called himself "The Butcher"?
"But you won't tell him the whole truth, will you?" Corso snapped, flinging himself into a chair so hard that it groaned in protest.
"Think of it as incentive to perform," Viidu said coldly. "Bring me four crates of blasters. I don't care if they're Republic, Sep, or bloody Imperial weapons, but you'll deliver them here, or you're both dead, just like I'll be. There's nowhere in the galaxy you can hide that Rogan won't find you."
Corso was still snarling when they left the meeting with Viidu. "I can't believe he's holding this over our heads," he said as he stomped down the dusty main street through the village. He glanced at Rian when she just shrugged, letting him vent. "How many blasters per crate, anyways?"
"Twenty," she said, watching as his jaw dropped.
"No way we can get that many," he said, face falling. "I wonder if it's too late to run."
"We won't be able to get them one at a time," she corrected. "Not quickly, at least. We'll have to hit supply depots."
He looked a little more hopeful. "Do you think we can manage that?"
She shrugged. "No telling until we try it. You know the area. Where's the nearest supply depot?"
"Other than there?" Corso jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the well-guarded bulk of Fort Garnik in the middle distance. "Probably one of the Sep camps. I can ask around."
Rian nodded. "Sounds like we're getting dangerously close to a plan."
The nearest Separatist camp was less than an hour's walk from Drelliad. Rian was starting to think the Seps had more firepower than brains, because they had decided to situate their ramshackle collection of huts and tents in a narrow canyon. They probably felt safe, protected by the volcanic rock walls, but even someone who spent most of her time in space could tell that the Separatists would be sitting ducks if anyone with an assault cannon or a bag of grenades bothered to climb the cliffs. The narrow canyon might offer some protection from aerial bombardment, but it would be a death trap if anyone bothered to take the cliff top.
She and Corso holed up in a tumble of boulders a short distance away, taking turns peering at the camp through Corso's binoculars. "I've seen two patrols, on a half-hour sweep," Rian handed the binoculars back over. "Three lookouts on the east wall, but I haven't seen any on the west side."
"That's what I saw too," Corso said, tucking the binoculars away. "What's the plan?"
Rian leaned back against a boulder and considered her options. "You stay here," she said at last, rolling into a crouch and checking her equipment. Corso had managed to find her a lightly armoured jacket, and she felt better with the flexible plasteel plates on her chest and arms. "I'm going to see if I can climb up the back of those cliffs and get a better look into the camp."
"No way!" Corso hissed, only just remembering to keep his voice down. "You can't go alone."
She looked over at him and raised a brow. "And you can climb in all that kit?" Corso had strapped on proper armour before they set out, a stiff durasteel shell that would fend off blaster fire. It looked impressive, but he sacrificed mobility for protection and he knew it. "I need you to cover me. I can't shoot back while I'm halfway up a cliff."
He grumbled but accepted her decision. They waited for the second patrol to saunter past down the dusty path - they showed a shocking lack of discipline, chatting and laughing among themselves rather than checking for ambushers - then made their way slowly around to the west side of the canyon. Up close, the rock face looked rather daunting, but Rian knew it was climbable. It might just take longer than she had originally thought. She let Corso pick his own hiding spot. He had enough experience to figure it out on his own and she didn't think he'd appreciate her dictating anything to him right now. She adjusted her holster around to rest on the small of her back so her pistol wouldn't scrape on the cliff, and started upwards.
The blaster burn on her arm made the climb much harder than it should have been, and she was panting and sweating by the time she reached the top. She took a quick look around to make sure she was alone before collapsing on the sun-baked rock. Her whole arm shook and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold her blaster steady with that hand. Reaching around awkwardly behind her, she drew the pistol with her left hand and rolled to her feet. She moved in a cautious crouch, searching the jagged cliff top for lookouts, but didn't spot any. Why would they guard one side of their camp but not the other? It didn't make sense.
The body was concealed in a jumble of boulders, and she nearly passed it by if not for the faint scent of blood in the air. She crouched down to feel for a pulse, but the young man was dead, a perfect puncture wound at the base of his skull. It was expertly done, with a regular blade rather than a vibroknife. There was no way someone could have snuck up on him with a vibroblade - the hum would have given it away. And the wound would have been much bigger. Vibroblades were messy. The body was still warm, but with the heat of the air and the rock under her feet, that didn't tell her much.
The second lookout was barely hidden by a mound of low, scrubby brush. His neck had been broken. Her heart started to pound faster, wondering just what kind of stealthy killer had been here ahead of her, and if they were still here. She tapped the communicator stud in her headband. Corso's voice was hugely reassuring.
"Eyes peeled," she murmured. "We're not the first ones here. I've found two dead lookouts. Whoever did it is a pro; these guys had no idea anyone was coming for them."
There was a faint hiss of static. "Get out of there," Corso said, voice tight. "If they're that good, we don't stand a chance against them."
"Doubting me, Riggs?" Rian asked, letting a hint of humour creep into her voice and was rewarded with a low chuckle.
"Never, Captain. Just saying maybe we should regroup and figure out exactly what's going on."
Rian flexed her right arm, which still trembled. She didn't want to tell him she'd probably fall to her death if she tried to climb down right now. "Five more minutes. I think whoever killed them is gone. There's no sign of anyone up here."
"Captain," Corso warned in her ear, but she ignored him, dialling the volume down until she could barely hear him.
She made her way slowly along the ridge, careful to never get herself in a position to be seen by the sentries on the other side of the canyon, but finally finding a sheltered nook where she could look down at the Separatist village without being observed. Everything looked normal. A handful of men and women were sitting around talking in low voices while they cleaned their guns or pored over maps. No one seemed to notice anything amiss.
She was reaching for the communicator stud when there was a faint scuff behind her. Before she could even start to turn, a blaster barrel was pressed firmly to the base of her skull. "I wouldn't move if I were you," growled an all-too-familiar voice.
It hadn't taken Jorgan long to relieve her of her weapons and cuff her wrists together behind her. He had even found the vibroknife in her boot and her lock picks, though not the tiny blade cleverly concealed along the side seam of her trousers. His nimble fingers plucked the communicator from her headband and tucked it away in one of his pouches before tapping his own. "Report, Sergeant." He paused, head tilted to the side and eyes focused on her. "Well done. Meet me at the rendezvous point." He gestured with his pistol, leaving his assault cannon holstered on his back. He was dressed in nearly the same armour she had seen on Viggota and Corso and she didn't know how he could move so quietly in it. "Get moving."
"And if I don't?" Rian asked, quirking a brow. They were both still keeping their voices low so they didn't alert the Separatists below them. She jerked her head towards the canyon. "You can't shoot me. They'll hear the shot and come running, and I don't think that even a Spec Op can take them all single-handedly."
Jorgan's sharp brows rose in surprise, but she already knew he was Special Forces. She had recognized the badge on Viggota's armour, even if she didn't know what squad it was from, and there was no way that he would be taking orders from Jorgan if he wasn't Special Forces too.
"There are other ways to kill, you know," the Cathar said with a shrug. "And we both know you're a survivor, Captain. You're better off coming with me and trying to escape later than dying here and now."
Rian tilted her head, acknowledging the point, and let him help her to her feet, though she stayed crouched over to stay out of sight of the sentries across the canyon. Having her hands cuffed behind her made her clumsy - to say nothing of the way it made the blaster burn on her arm ache - and she accepted Jorgan's assistance with ill grace when she stumbled.
Fortunately, the Cathar had found a different way up the cliff because there was no way she could climb down with her hands shackled together. It looked like a dry wash, where a narrow stream had once cut its way down the cliff face, and it was steep and treacherous. Jorgan made her go first and she nearly fell several times, slipping and skidding on the rough stone until she was sure she'd taken most of the skin off her palms and elbows, even through her jacket, but she gritted her teeth and said nothing. She was thankful they had moved further away from the camp because she was making too much noise. The Seps tended to shoot first and ask questions later.
Once they were back on level ground, the barrel of his blaster prodded her to a faster speed as he steered her away from the canyon. He avoided the road, cutting across the open terrain. The ground rose and fell in gentle hills, covered by low, scrubby grass and the occasional sad-looking bush. She could smell salt and hear the sound of waves lapping on the shore when suddenly the ground dropped away to the beach. It was a ten-foot drop and she knew she couldn't manage it with her arms tied. She'd break an ankle, or worse.
"No way," she balked, halting a few paces from the edge and turning to face Jorgan. "Find another way down, or untie me."
He sighed, rolling his eyes, and tapped his communicator again. "Pick us up above the beach." He turned his strange eyes on her again. "Don't worry, Princess. We'll make sure you don't chip your nails." She didn't bother to respond to that, not caring much what he thought of her. The more helpless he thought she was, the more likely he was to let his guard down.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye and saw his ears twitch a moment before she heard it herself - the low thrum of a motor. It had been masked by the wash of waves on the beach but now that it was closer it was obvious - an airspeeder. She twisted around to watch it swoop gracefully up over the shallow cliff and land gently a short distance from them, and was unsurprised to see the Republic military logo on the nose. Nor was she surprised when Viggota opened the rear hatch and escorted her in. It was the sight of Corso, shackled and strapped to a chair, that made her stomach drop. She'd been hoping he might have been able to help her get free. It seemed he had had the same hope. When he twisted to see what was going on, his shoulders slumped at the sight of her.
Jorgan prodded her forward and she frowned as the rest of Corso's face became visible. His left eye was swelling shut and a split lip had left a red trail down his chin and spattered across his armour. He shrugged as much as his bonds would let him, and she let Jorgan push her down beside him. The Cathar slipped her hands through the opening at the back of the chair and fastened them down, then strapped the seat restraints around her. Viggota watched impassively, though Rian did note a darkening bruise on his jaw and shared a grin with Corso as the two soldiers retreated to the cockpit and the speeder lifted into the air.
"You all right?" she murmured to her companion, letting the noise of the engines cover her voice.
"More or less," Corso muttered back. "At least I got a good shot in on that walking mountain. You?"
"I'd be better without the cuffs, but I'll live." She let her head thump back against the headrest. "I guess we know who the 'pro' was that killed the lookouts." She shook her head in amazement. "I can't believe how quiet that cat can move in all that armour."
Corso chuckled quietly, letting his good eye slip closed. "I was too busy trying to get you to listen to me to notice that big guy." She winced, remembering how she had turned the volume on her communicator down. Maybe if she hadn't, Corso would have heard Viggota coming. "No sense worrying about it now, though." He opened his good eye and looked over at her. "I'd be very happy to hear that you already have a plan, Captain."
She shrugged, then winced as her abused arms protested the movement. "Sorry to disappoint."
Corso watched her carefully, noting the torn sleeves of her jacket and the awkward way she was holding her arms. "You'll come up with something."
The flight back to Fort Garnik was depressingly short. She and Corso were separated almost right away. He was hustled off by two Republic soldiers while she was left with Jorgan and Viggota. She didn't want to think about what that might mean. Surely her warrant - which was only for being suspected of smuggling medical supplies out of a Republic hospital - didn't require the attention of two Spec Ops soldiers. Even given that she had escaped right under their noses.
"This way," Jorgan said curtly, leading the way from the speeder pad towards one of the durasteel buildings that bore the Republic military logo. Strangely, this one also had the Republic Medical Corps logo and she was surprised to find herself in a bright and clean hospital. Jorgan held up a hand to summon a doctor and pointed at her. "She needs medical attention. Abrasions to both lower arms and hands."
"And a blaster burn," Viggota spoke up from behind her. "Right biceps." She turned to look at him in surprise and he met her eyes steadily until the doctor interrupted.
"Right this way, miss." She followed the green-skinned Mirialan into a side room, unsurprised when Jorgan and Viggota both crowded in. The doctor took it all in stride. He was an army doctor, after all, and she was in shackles.
Rian had hoped she might be freed for the doctor to examine her wounds but instead he cut away the sleeves with a laser scalpel. She scowled at this, but he pretended not to notice. She couldn't see the damage to her hands and arms, but the doctor's soft exclamation of surprise didn't bode well. The antiseptic burned but then a cool salve soothed the ache before the Mirialan bandaged them securely. Her blaster burn was subjected to similar treatment and re-bandaged. She had been hoping for synth-skin or a dermal regenerator, but they wouldn't waste those kinds of resources on a prisoner.
Treatment finished, she stood and faced the Spec Ops soldiers again. "Where's Corso? He was injured too, but your goons took him somewhere else."
Jorgan barely even bothered to look at her. "His wounds weren't likely to get infected. Command will most likely send him for treatment after questioning him."
"Questioning him about what?" she snapped, nearing the end of her patience. It hadn't been a very good couple of days.
"Please come with us, Captain," Jorgan said, ignoring her question. She snorted but complied. There wasn't much else she could do.
She was shown to a cell in the Interrogation Centre and unshackled, then watched Jorgan and Viggota leave through the haze created by the force field. They still hadn't told her anything.
Her cell was ten feet square and contained a bed and a tiny privy, tucked behind a waist-high wall. She was already bored, and it had only been a couple of hours. She had a tiny blade sewn into one of the seams of her pants and she tried to surreptitiously free it, but her bandaged hands were clumsy and she hadn't been able to manage yet. The bandages covered her skin from palm to wrist, with a gap where the cuffs had been, and then went all the way up to her elbows. She had scraped on her knuckles as well, but the doctor had cleaned them and they didn't look too bad.
She hadn't seen any sign of Corso and tried not to think of what that might mean. Maybe they realized they had arrested him by mistake and let him go - though there was still the fact that he had assaulted a Republic soldier. No one had come to see her to tell her what she was being charged with. No one had spoken to her at all.
She was half-dozing on the bed when she heard footsteps approaching and sat up quickly, hiding a wince as her scrapes and sore muscles protested. A trio of Republic interrogators approached, dark uniforms blending into the dim light of the cavernous room behind them.
"Another alien?" A brown-haired human in an officer's uniform sneered at her through the force field. Rian didn't bother to respond, lounging back on the bed and watching him insolently. The officer nodded to one of the other soldiers and he deactivated the force field. Rian arched a brow as the other soldier approached her with a pair of cuffs.
"Your hands," he said. Rian thought about refusing, but she saw the other soldier train his blaster on her. She didn't need any new bruises or scars. She'd gained quite enough of those over the past few days. The cold metal of the cuffs closed around the bare patch of skin at her wrists and she hid a shudder. She really didn't like being restrained.
"So do I finally get to find out what I'm being charged with?" she asked, looking up at the officer. He smiled coldly and crossed his arms, but said nothing. Rian saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She jerked her head back an instant too late as one of the soldiers backhanded her across the face. She reeled back, ears ringing and tasting blood, and threw her hands up to protect her face.
"Real charming, guys," she snapped, kicking out sharply and catching the nearest soldier in the knee with the heel of her boot. She heard bone crunch and he shrieked in pain and collapsed. "You're really courageous, handcuffing the unarmed woman before you decide to smack her around." She ducked under the second soldier's arms as he tried to grab her and kneed him hard in the stomach. His breath went out in a whoosh and he staggered backwards.
Outside the cell, the officer gaped at her in astonishment, then scrabbled for the blaster at his hip as she charged towards him. In his panic he wasn't able to get the weapon clear of its holster before she was on him. She rammed an elbow into his face, hearing his nose crunch, and brought her bound hands down on the back of his head. A jolt of pain went through her bandaged hands but the officer went down in a heap as the heavy durasteel cuffs smashed into the base of his skull, and his blaster clattered to the floor. She scooped it up and ran for the door.
She paused to scan the street, then slipped outside. She ducked behind the building and set off at a jog down the alley. Her eventual goal was Rendia Freight, but she took a circuitous route, not wanting to lead anyone there.
When she judged she was far enough away, she took shelter behind a pile of crates. She crouched down between the crates and the building so she couldn't be seen and examined the cuffs. They were Republic standard cuffs, with an electronic key, but they could also be unlocked if the wires were cut. If she could get to the wires. She sucked gently on her split lip as she worked, trying to get it to stop bleeding. The whole side of her face was still throbbing and she knew she would have an impressive bruise.
Now that she wasn't trying to hide her actions from the holocams in the cells, she was able to work the tiny blade free despite the added difficulty of the manacles. The blade was thin enough to slip into the crack in the housing and after some awkward prying that left her with a number of shallow slices on her fingers, she managed to pop it apart. She spent a moment examining the wiring while she wiped the blood off her fingers, then slid the blade in and sliced neatly through the one that provided power to the electromagnetic lock. She heard a faint click and when she twisted her wrists, the cuffs popped open.
She returned the blade to its hiding place and stuffed the cuffs into a gap between two crates. A faint shout that she thought was coming from the vicinity of the Interrogation Centre spurred her back into motion. They wouldn't stop hunting until they had found her, so staying still wouldn't do any good. She needed to get out of the city, and preferably off-planet. Though she wouldn't take that option until she was able to make sure that Corso was safe. He didn't deserve this sort of trouble for helping her. Maybe she could get both of them off-planet and they could work on tracking Skavak down.
The shallow cuts on her fingers had mostly stopped bleeding and she wiped her hands clean one last time before gripping the blaster firmly and stepping out from behind the crates, only to stop suddenly in shock. Sergeant Viggota was lounging against the wall only ten feet from her, his blaster pistol casually resting against his thigh. "You know, you're lucky I found you first. Kellik was saying you should be shot on sight."
She jerked her stolen blaster up, pointing it squarely at his head. "Drop your weapon," she said, ignoring his words. She didn't know how he had managed to find her and she didn't much care. She just knew she had to get past him, and fast.
He looked down at his pistol and back up at her, though he made no move to lift the weapon. He frowned when he saw the bruise on her face. "I don't think so. I think you should drop yours, and come with me quietly. You'll be safe under Havoc Squad's protection."
She thought the name sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. Clearly a Spec Forces team, but the Republic was usually pretty tight-lipped about them. "Safe? In another jail cell where some puffed-up prick thinks he can smack me around because he feels like it? I don't think so; that didn't work out so well for me this time. Besides, I haven't been charged with anything. You have no right to hold me. This isn't the Empire, all evidence to the contrary." She ran a finger over her bruised face and split lip.
Viggota arched an eyebrow and pushed himself off the wall, ignoring the way her finger tightened on the trigger. "You know we can't let you go, not after what you did."
Rian was about to open her mouth to protest her innocence again - all the while thinking that this level of hostility was completely unwarranted for the mere theft of medical supplies - when something struck her hard across the back of the head. Bright sparks exploded across her vision and she felt the blaster fall from her fingers as everything went dark.