Two hours later, Black Sun headquarters, Telos
Vhetin sat at the desk in the quarters he'd been given, reading through various criminal reports printed on sheets of flimsiplast. His saber pike was leaning against the wall just within arm's reach and his helmet was resting on top of a stack of flimsi that he had read through twice already.
It was dull reading, to be sure; for a powerful criminal organization, Black Sun operated with an internal enforcement system that was almost as bureaucratic as that of the Empire.
Said enforcement troopers moved in, stated the report he was currently reading, and engaged the target. As per initiative TT-1B, all troopers were outfitted with stun rounds and shockstaffs. Said stun rounds and shockstaffs were ineffective against said target. Trooper casualties were complete, and target disappeared. Patrol TX-28 were first to discover the scene of the crime and reported to nearest trooper command. This report submitted by Operative Le'namo, active overseer of all activities, meetings, and business dealings on this day...
Vhetin shook his head as he shoved the flimsi away and pulled another toward him. He'd been combing through Black Sun files for the past two hours, getting to work after he'd taken a sanisteam to wash the blood and sweat from his body.
The memories of what he'd read from Oppo Tor still haunted him, part of the reason he was finding it so hard to concentrate. The blood, the screaming, the violence he had personally felt as he saw the butchering of his fellow Mandalorians through the Barabel's eyes...
He angrily tossed the flimsi aside and rested his head in his hands, letting out a weary sigh.
And to top it all off, the other Mandalorian was still out there, shadowing his every move. He had pulled every security feed from the bar and the surrounding area and had found nothing; someone in the reconstruction zone had conveniently deployed a seismic reader that scrambled all the cams during the time Rizzo the bartender had mysteriously disappeared.
While at first he had assumed that this fellow Mando had been merely an ally who didn't know of Vhetin and Jay's involvement in Xizor's contract, he now though different. This Mandalorian had been presented with numerous opportunities to approach Vhetin and his partner and had chosen to stay silent and invisible. That either meant that this man was either too stupid to see there were other hunters on the job — unlikely — or he had no intention of working together.
Still, Vhetin was determined to find this man, by any means necessary. He had ordered the hard drive feeds from all the security cams to be delivered directly to him. He was hardly Jaing Skirata, but with some tinkering and a little luck, he might just be able to clear out some of the static that fogged the cam feeds.
On the brighter side, from what he'd heard, Prince Xizor was immensely pleased by his and Jay's progress during the day. They had succeeded where the Prince's own trusted operatives had failed time and again, and that had obviously advanced the two in his "good books". The mere fact that he had offered Vhetin and Jay their own private quarters at the local Black Sun HQ — which presented the face of a manufacturing outpost near the reconstruction zone — drove home that point. Vhetin had been given a medium-sized room complete with a private 'fresher, while Jay had been presented with a nearly identical room further down the hall.
After the day they'd both been through, they both deserved some rest. But try as he might, Vhetin couldn't bring himself to sleep, or even to relax. He had good reason, too: Oppo Tor had disappeared, the pitfighters from the Watering Hole were all but frothing at the mouth to find the man who had brought chaos to their arena, and Rizzo the bartender was missing, probably dead.
In addition to the cam hard drives, he had also requested the reports of the depot attacks, to see if he could decipher a pattern in Oppo Tor's brutal attacks. If he could find out where Tor was planning to attack next, he and Jay might be able to beat the Barabel there and have time to prepare the defenses and draw him into a trap.
A knock came at the door, and he looked up, rubbing his eyes again.
"State your business," he called.
A heavily accented voice called back through the door, saying, "Prince's messenger."
He turned back to the flimsi scattered across the desk and replied, "The door's open."
There was a beep from the door, which retracted to reveal an attractive blue-skinned Twi'lek female. She looked only a few years older than Vhetin and was dressed in a loose black dress with her thick blue lekku hanging back gracefully over her shoulders. She stepped gracefully into the room, carrying a stack of datachips and flimsiplast folders.
"The... information Master asked for," she said in slow Basic, indicating the files in her arms with a twitch of her lekku.
"You don't need to call me 'master'. I'm sure you get enough of that around here." He nodded a clear space on the left side of the desk. "You can set them right here, thanks."
The Twi'lek did placed the folders and chips on the desk, then silently stepped back, out of sight.
Vhetin pulled the datachips toward him; the hard drive feeds from the security cams. He plugged one of the chips into a datapad on the desk and booted up the video feed.
Static. Big surprise.
He tapped in several long commands into the datapad to no avail; the pad revealed nothing but static and white noise. He worked in silence for several minutes before he heard the soft rustle of clothing behind him. Cocking his head at the sound, he turned in his seat.
The Twi'lek woman had pulled the straps of her dress down her shoulders and let the garment fall to the floor. She was wearing nothing underneath.
He frowned in confusion for a moment, then turned his head away awkwardly, cleared his throat, and said, "Um... what exactly are you doing?"
"Is the Prince's order," she explained. "He pleased with your service. You are to be rewarded."
"Okay," he said slowly. "Thanks but no thanks. You can go ahead and pull your dress back up."
"You not find me attractive?" the female asked, sounding both afraid and slightly offended.
"I... that's beside the point," he said, turning his back to her. "Why did you-"
"You are to be rewarded," she repeated, and he heard her take a step closer to him. "I reward you."
He held out a hand behind him, not turning his head, and motioned for her to stop. "I'm... flattered," he said, "I really am. But put your clothes back on."
"You not find me attractive?" she repeated.
"I'm not that kind of guy," he pressed. "Please put your clothes back on."
"I be punished if I am sent away," she pleaded.
He sighed and put his head in his hands again. Of all the things he needed right now, this was not among them. After a time, he took a deep breath, then said, "Okay. Put your clothes back on and you can stay here for the night. But no more... you know, okay?"
When he turned back to the female, he was relieved to see that she had indeed pulled her dress back up, her face turning a deeper shade of blue as she blushed deeply in embarrassment. She hugged herself, as if she were cold, and shifted her feet awkwardly. Obviously she had never been ordered to do anything like this before.
He gestured to the untouched cot along the wall nearby and said, "You can crash there, I guess. I'm going to be working for a while, so..."
She nodded and obediently sat on the edge of the bed, clasping her hands in her lap and staring at the floor. He watched her for a moment, then asked, "Do you speak anything other than Basic?"
She nodded shyly, avoiding his gaze, and said in Huttese, "I was taught Basic when I was taken into Xizor's service. It is obviously not my given language."
He smiled slightly and spoke in Huttese as he asked, "What's your name?"
"Taala. You are Cin Vhetin, the Mandalorian."
"You know your bounty hunters," he observed.
"Many of them work for my lord Xizor," Taala said with a timid shrug. "And I have lived in the service of my Master for some time."
"How did you come into Xizor's service?" Vhetin asked. He was pretty sure he already knew; organizations like Black Sun preyed off the weak and helpless as effectively as the Empire enslaved them. The only way Vhetin could stand working for them was knowing that the bounties he brought in for Prince Xizor were dangerous criminals that would meet a swift end at the Falleen's hands.
"I was sold to one of Xizor's lieutenants when I was ten," Taala admitted. "My family was unable to support another child; they gave me up to the local enforcement officers on Ryloth. A few years into my service, Master Xizor noticed my good looks and bought me. Now I serve him."
"And anyone he decides to 'reward,'" Vhetin murmured.
Taala stood and stepped up toward Vhetin's chair. She looked over his shoulder and said, "What are you working on?"
He picked up a miniature magnetic flaxer and began tapping it gently against the datachip. Sparks flew from the tip and the image on the 'pad flickered slightly.
"I'm trying to use this flaxer to draw the static out of the image," he explained. "It'll take a while, but-"
"Why don't you just copy the files over to a fresh drive and try to reconstruct the image from code?"
He frowned and looked at her. "What? I thought-"
She smiled shyly and said, "I spent three years in the service of a Black Sun computer technician who worked for a black market fence. He needed a lot of security, so I know my way around cam footage."
She held out a hand and said, "Here, give it to me and I'll see what I can do with it."
He stared at her for a moment, then put the datapad in her hand.
The next morning
Vhetin was woken from a deep sleep by a knock on the door. He jerked his head up, peeled a piece of flimsi off his face, and rubbed his eyes. He looked around the room, blinking sleep from his eyes, then thought, Oh... I must have fallen asleep while working.
The desk was now strewn with flimsiplast reports, datachips and various technician tools, and maps of the Telosian plains. He did his best to return them to some semblance of order, then stood slowly, grimacing as his sore back popped loudly.
Taala was also out cold; she had fallen asleep some time after midnight while working on her fifth datachip file. She had since wrapped herself up in the thin covers on the cot and was now dozing peacefully, her breath slow and soft. He quietly picked up the datachips that had fallen on the floor and put them on the desk.
Whoever was at the door knocked again, and Vhetin quickly grabbed his helmet and saber pike. He clipped the weapon to his rocket pack and pulled his helmet over his head as he activated the door comm and said, "Who is it?"
"Who else would knock on your door?" came Jay's voice. "You have the social skills of a rancor."
He keyed open the door to find Jay standing in the hall beyond. She looked refreshed and well-rested and her pistol was already strapped to her hip. She had her arms folded across her chest and was tapping one foot impatiently.
"Good morning sleepyhead," she greeted him. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"I had a long night," he said, yawning behind his helmet. "Research, data slicing..."
"Uh-huh," she said skeptically, standing on her toes and looking over his shoulder. Her gaze lingered on Taala's sleeping form and she narrowed her eyes slightly.
"Care to explain that?" she said, nodding toward the Twi'lek.
Vhetin glanced over his shoulder and said, "Oh yeah. She was a... gift. From Prince Xizor."
She raised an eyebrow and said, "Right. And you didn't... accept this gift, did you?"
"Of course not," he said, slightly offended that she would think such a thing. "But she would have been punished if I sent her away. So I said she could stay the night so she wouldn't get into trouble with her boss."
"Right," Jay said, grinning widely and winking. "Sure."
"Come on, Jay," Vhetin said, gesturing for her to follow him farther down the hall. "She actually helped out with slicing the security cam feeds, so stop messing around. Just because you didn't get a 'gift'-"
"Who says I didn't?" she interrupted.
He stared at her, surprised. "What? Xizor sent someone to your room?"
She nodded, smiling as she said, "Yeah. Big tall guy, blond hair, good looks... He gave me the best back-rub I've ever had. It was the perfect way to wind down after the day we had yesterday."
"A back-rub?" Vhetin asked, staring at her. "Nothing... else?"
"That's none of your business, is it?"
He shook his head and said, "Whatever. We've got another busy day today. You all ready to go?"
She nodded and he continued, "Good. I need to gather up some files and grab the sliced data, then I'll catch up with you."
"I'll be waiting," she said, heading further down the hall toward the building's atrium while Vhetin turned back to his quarters.
As the door slid shut behind him, he pulled his helmet from over his head and clipped it to the side of his belt; the helmet's HUD hurt his tired eyes, and the last thing he needed bugging him today was a headache.
It didn't take long to gather the maps, flimsi sheets, and datachips together. He tucked the maps back into the folder they had come from and dropped the datachips into one of his belt-pouches. As he was cleaning up, Taala shifted and opened her eyes. She blinked and brushed her left lekku from in front of her face, much like a human woman would do with a wayward strand of hair. He glanced at her as he gathered the flimsiplast into a neat stack.
"Good morning," he said in Huttese.
She yawned and offered him the same greeting. She rubbed her eyes as she sat up and looked around the room.
"I fell asleep," she said simply.
He chuckled as he worked and said, "You did. Around midnight."
She sighed. "I'm sorry. Your work is important. I did not treat it as such."
"Don't apologize," he said, dismissing the apology with a slight tip of his head. "You did more than enough, and the sliced security feeds will help more than you know."
"And now you must leave?"
He nodded. "I have to track Tor down before he kills more people."
"And I'll never see you again," she said, sounding disappointed.
He glanced over at her through the corner of his eye. Was she really as upset as she sounded? Nothing had happened between them. They had mostly worked in silence on their separate projects for the entire night.
She shyly met his gaze and said, "You are an honorable man, Cin Vhetin. If only more beings were like you-"
He chuckled, though there was little amusement in the sound. "You don't mean that."
"Yes I do."
"No you don't," he insisted. "Trust me, on most days I'm no better than any other criminal. Just because I have some semblance of a moral code doesn't set me apart from them."
She fell silent and stared at the floor. He looked at her for a moment, then narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and reached into one belt pouch.
"Hey," he said to catch her attention. When she looked up, he tossed a silver rectangular chip to her. She caught it, surprise evident in her eyes as she turned over the credit chip in her delicate hands. She saw the denomination marking in the center of the chip and her eyes widened in shock.
"This..." she said breathlessly, "this is five thousand credits!"
He nodded, turning back to the desk. "It should be more than enough to pay for your freedom and start a new life. You don't deserve to be a slave."
She stared at the chip in her hands, speechless.
He pulled a blank piece of flimsi toward him, scribbling several words on it with a stylus.
"I've also noticed that you're also a talented slicer," he said as he wrote. "And I know someone who would pay well for your tech services."
He placed the flimsi in her trembling hands and said, "When you're released, follow these nav coordinates. They'll lead you to a rural planet in the mid-rim, to the capital city called Keldabe. When you get there, ask for Jaing Skirata and tell him I sent you."
She nodded, still staring at the small, seemingly insignificant square of durasteel in her hands. He smiled slightly and turned back to the desk, tapping a stack of flimsi into an orderly pile.
Taala opened her mouth to speak, closed it again. Then she stood from the cot and stepped toward Vhetin, throwing her arms around his shoulders and kissing him hard on the mouth. He blinked in surprise and made a sound of discomfort. She broke off after only a moment and hugged him tightly.
"Thank you," she whispered in Basic. "Thank you, thank you."
He gently pushed her back and said, "You've earned it. Now you'd better go see your boss. He's going to have to start looking for another personal aide."
He finished gathering up the things on the desk and replaced his helmet as she dashed for the door, all but punching the pad to open it. She flashed a dazzling smile back at him, then sprinted away, down the hall.
He stepped into the hall at a more sedate pace as he uploaded the first of the datachip files into his HUD systems. He plugged the chip into a socket on his gauntlet and waited for the file to load.
He was glad he had been able to help Taala out; he hadn't been lying when he'd said that she didn't deserve to be a slave. She was a truly gifted slicer, and she could profit off of that talent if she could only free herself from Prince Xizor's service.
He found Jay waiting in the atrium, sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair and thumbing through a catalogue of the different metals the manufacturing company sold. She was obviously bored, and gladly set aside the catalogue when she saw her partner approaching.
"You're finally here," she said, fixing him with a friendly glare. "Do you know how boring it is looking through a catalogue listing over five hundred different tensile strengths of durasteel bars?"
When he said nothing, she jerked her thumb over her shoulder and said, "Your Twi'lek friend just came running through here looking like she'd won the Imperial lotto. Something to do with you, I assume?"
"I gave her enough money to buy her freedom," he said bluntly. "She deserved it."
Jay laughed and stood, brushing her hands on her pant legs. "I'm surprised at you, Stripes. Was she really that good?"
"I'm not going to tell you again," he said tersely. "Nothing happened."
"Then why free her? I don't think it was out of the kindness of your heart; that's not how your brain works."
"She helped me slice into the security cam hard drives," he explained. "And from what I've seen so far she did a damn good job of it, too. She deserved better than a life of slavery."
Jay shook her head as they set off through the front doors of the Black Sun headquarters. "Vhetin, Brianna told me all about your whole utilitarian perspective, making more good out of a situation than bad. But I've got to say, you take it a little far sometimes."
"I won't deny reward to those who deserve it," he said. "And I won't stand by while people need my help and I can readily and easily give it."
"I'm not suggesting you do. But you can't help everyone."
"I can help anyone who deserves it."
"And you'll run yourself ragged trying to make everyone around you happy while they accept your help and offer you nothing in return."
She glanced at him as they walked and said, "Trust me. I know. I spent three years dutifully serving the Empire and they stabbed me in the back all the same."
"They more or less did the same to me," he reminded her. "And that just strengthened my resolve."
"How?"
"Most beings hate the Imperials because they take without giving in return. They strip-mine planets and leave the inhabitants to quarrel in the muck left behind, sell entire populations to slavery and pocket all the money, and buy expensive material at a self-imposed discount."
He turned to her and said, "If a single person can help another when it is well within their ability and prerogative to do so, than you show just how different from the Empire they can be. They can show that there is still hope in the galaxy."
She shook her head. "I think you're wasting your time. You really think that people like Prince Xizor care if you're similar or dissimilar to a money-hoarding Imperial?"
"Taala did," he said bluntly. "I may have altered the course of her entire life with a kind gesture and a pocketful of credits."
She opened her mouth to say something more, then closed it and frowned thoughtfully. They walked in silence for a time before she shrugged and said, "When you put it like that, utilitarianism doesn't sound so bad."
"That's what I keep trying to tell people," he said with a quiet chuckle. "And in return they keep branding me a sociopath."
She shook her head, then clapped her hands together and said, "So... where do we start today?"
He handed her the bulging file of flimsiplast reports and maps and said, "Last night I correlated all the previous reports of Oppo Tor's attacks on Black Sun depots. There were quite a few more than we were led to believe."
"Any particular reason behind this?" she asked, flipping through the flimsi sheets in the folder, "or did you just do it for kicks?"
"There was a reason behind it," he said. "But before I go into that, what did you find out about Tor's criminal records?"
"You're not going to like it."
"Tell me anyway."
"I tracked down Tor's construction registration and had Warren run his ID picture through the Imperial Police database." Jay pulled a folded piece of flimsi from her jacket pocket and handed it to him. Written in her hand were notes that looked as if they were taken from a bounty report.
"Did the ImpPol database come back with anything?" he asked, unfolding the flimsi.
"Apparently Oppo Tor isn't his real name," she explained as Vhetin quickly read through the report.
Bounty: Open (available to any who wish to make a capture attempt)
Name: Taba Tory'nn
Species: Barabel
Sex: Male
Last known location: Mos Espa, Tatooine
Bounty Originator: Mos Espa Law Enforcement
Appearance: Typical Barabel male with dusty yellow scales and golden eyes. Usually wears sleeveless nerf-hide vest with large projectile blaster pistol holstered on belt. Subject is to be considered armed and extremely dangerous at all times.
Brief: Wanted for the death and destruction of Law Enforcement personnel and property during a raid on a drug cache in Mos Espa. Tory'nn killed over fifteen law enforcement officers and enforcement driods.
Reward: 6,000 (alive)
"What about a danger rating? Did you run the file through analysis programs?"
She silently motioned for him to flip the flimsi over. He did so and slowly read, Danger rating: 10. Excessive caution crucial. Lethal force strongly advised.
"Great," Vhetin muttered. "This job just keeps getting better and better. Where you able to find anything else?"
They paused at a street corner, heading toward an area on the edge of the construction town where they would have more peace and quiet to discuss their next plan of action.
"Tor," Jay began, "or Tory'nn, or whatever the hell he wants to be called, was born on Coruscant. His parents were two Barabel mercenaries that served the Trade Federation as enforcers. When the Clone Wars began, Tor began working as an enforcer himself. For the Separatists."
"Interesting," Vhetin murmured, "but not overall surprising. Go on."
"When the Wars ended, Tor had to bug out fast before the Republic could throw him in a max-sec prison for his rather extensive list of war crimes. He laid low for a while, working as a bodyguard for a drug dealer in Mos Espa. When the local authorities got wind of it they organized a raid. Tor ripped through them like flittersilk and disappeared. And then he shows up here about a year and a half ago."
"Right around when these attacks started," Vhetin said, nodding contemplatively. Then he frowned and glanced at his partner.
"Wait," he said, "he never had any problems with Black Sun?"
Jay shrugged. "Nothing that was listed. Apparently he's never so much as passed an undercover Black Sun operative on the street. Why he'd be systematically destroying Xizor's supply depots is beyond me. Sorry, Stripes."
"Hm... that's unexpected. But I think in the end that only helps us."
"How?" Jay asked. "What were you able to find?"
They finally left the town behind them, emerging into the quieter edge of the buildings. They stopped near a permacrete table and sat down, where Vhetin pulled a map from the folder and spread it out across the surface.
"Last night, I analyzed this map," he explained. "Marking where, when, and how each supply depot was attacked. I hoped that there would be some pattern or reason behind his attacks. I wasn't able to find any."
"Because there is none?" Jay said, sounding as if she hoped she was wrong.
"No," he continued, shaking his helmeted head. "After a couple hours I thought I noticed something. Not quite a pattern, but..."
He gestured to the flimsiplast map on the table between them. The map showed a satellite image of a six-kilometer area of the Telosian plains; the Black Sun supply depots were scattered through the area, mostly hidden in the foothills or near what looked like a large rockslide.
Every one of the depots were interconnected by a series of hand-drawn concentric circles, colored blue. The circles steadily grew smaller and smaller until it almost hurt Vhetin's eyes to look at them, and each circle ran directly through at least one depot.
"I found out that the first depots to be attacked were here." He tapped a finger against the smallest of the blue circles. "Inside this area. As time went on, the attack radius slowly grew larger and larger, until the newest attack..."
He tapped Depot Fifteen, on the edge of the largest circle.
"...here," he finished, sounding triumphant.
Jay frowned and pulled the map closer to her, squinting as she looked closer. After a time she glanced up at Vhetin for a moment and said, "So... you think that Tor is... what, exactly?"
"Tor is a Barabel," he said. "And they're known to be fiercely territorial. Up till this point, we've been going at this thinking that he was some kind of disgruntled employee. But nothing made sense; he's a construction worker and part-time criminal enforcer with absolutely no ties to Xizor's organization. It doesn't make sense, right?"
She raised her hands and shook her head. "You're getting no argument from me."
"But," he said, tapping the map again, "what if this isn't personal? What if he's just defending his marked territory?"
She frowned thoughtfully. "That... that makes sense, I guess. Some reptilioid species are known to move into new areas where other alpha males are already well-established and start a kind of guerilla war until they solidify their place in the pecking order."
"Exactly. I think that's what Tor is doing."
"So now it's just a matter of tracking Tor to his hideout-"
"Which is more likely than not to be somewhere in this area," Vhetin said, gesturing to the smallest three circles.
"-and finding some way to subdue him," she reminded him.
"Yeah," he said slowly, his triumph and excitement slowly fading. "I'm... I'm still working on that."
"And you're sure you can't just amputate a couple limbs with your saber pike?"
He shook his helmeted head. It was a good idea, and he had considered it himself at first. "It won't work; Corey Black reported that he tried using a lightsaber against Tor when he attacked Depot Fifteen. It just bounced off his scales."
"Isn't that supposed to be impossible? I thought lightsabers cut through anything."
He gestured to his own armor. "Beskar is lightsaber resistant. And there are several documented metal ores that can withstand the weapon's blade. It wouldn't surprise me if Tor has found some chemical way to harden his scales until they're almost indestructible."
"What, like a liquid beskar scale polish?"
"Now isn't the time for jokes."
She shrugged before clasping her hands on the tabletop and saying, "What about the cam feeds your pretty Twi'lek friend managed to slice? Anything from that?"
"I haven't had a chance to look through them yet," Vhetin said. "But thanks for reminding me."
He stood and activated the holoprojector mounted on the side of his helmet. The image from a security cam feed flashed to life on the tabletop. It showed a view near the ceiling of The Pit, looking down into the arena.
Jay's eyebrows shot up. "Wow," she said. "Maybe I was wrong about the Twi'lek fem. She did a good job cleaning up these cam feeds. I don't-"
"Shh," Vhetin said suddenly, frowning as a dark figure slowly stepped toward the center of the arena. It looked like a human male dressed in traditional Mandalorian armor. He had a jetpack similar in model to Vhetin's own, and had a waist-length shoulder cape. The shimmering hologram colored everything a pale blue, but Vhetin remembered the coroner's statement that the man wore green armor with red trim.
"Recognize him?" Jay said, squinting at the holo.
"No," Vhetin said, zooming in on the man. "Not really. I don't..."
He stopped, then narrowed his eyes and murmured, "What the hell?"
He increased the sharpness of the picture. The fuzzy image of the man slowly resolved into focus, showing more details of the man; dull, well-worn armor, pale shoulder pads, the Mandalorian kyr'bes crown printed across one of the pads, what looked like braided hair or scalps over the left shoulder. But as the man's helmet slowly resolved into focus, showing a large dent in the metal over the right side of the dome, Vhetin's eyes slowly widened in realization.
No. Damn it, please say I'm wrong.
But he wasn't wrong; all the details were right there in front of his eyes. The dirty green-red armor, the shoulder cape, the mythosaur skull on one shoulder pad, the braided scalps that he knew to be Wookiee fur.
"Jay," he said slowly, "how long is it back to the ships?"
She frowned, looking worried at his sudden quiet tone. "What?"
"How long?"
"About ten minutes. What's got you so worried?"
Vhetin deactivated the hologram, scooped up the files from the tabletop, and began running toward the nearest speeder bus. Through his helmet's 360-degree vision he saw Jay start with surprise and stand from her seat, jogging after him.
"What is it?" she called. "Who is that guy?"
