Chapter 27: Shiptar Tovrak

Skor II

"Kriff it, skiing," Shiptar whispered under his breath.

After smelling one of the four smell profiles he had been given, a sour-musky scent, Shiptar had stalked Itoll and Fojo to Glatmitter, a ten-story shopping centre in the middle of a cluster of skyscrapers in Prosstäd.

The two had been shopping for winter gear for the past hour, trying on coats, waving around beanies, ruffling through stacks of woolen socks.

Shopping for cold weather gear, Shiptar had thought. Now, however, he followed the Bothan and Rodian straight into a ski shop on the mall's fifth level. The hulking 2.1-meter-tall Shistavanen could hover ski on the easier slopes, but he hated it. The snow, falling, feeling hot under his coat but cold everywhere else—He would partake in none of it if it could be avoided.

Up closer to the two, he could now also smell Fojo's exotic humid reptilian scent. For some reason though, even though Itoll's scent was stronger and less familiar than the frequent smells of Murkhana, the Shistavanen found his smell very appealing.

"Focus," Shiptar snarled to himself under his breath, as he stared at Itoll through a rack of hover skis. The Bothan looked positively dashing to Shiptar with his now reddish-black fur.

"What is it?" Hista's voice asked through his earpiece.

"Never mind," Shiptar whispered. "Just… Just talking to myself."

"Oh great. General Shiptar Tovrak is just a raving lunatic."

"Admiral," Shiptar growled in a warning. "I did not hook myself up to your communications network so you could berate me."

"Very well," Hista sighed, then barked suddenly from Shiptar's comm. "Status report!"

"Well, Itoll and Fojo are in a ski shop, trying on—Wait, this is distracting. I am not reporting to you Admiral. I will contact you when I have something to report."

Hista laughed so loudly that the comm line crackled with static.

Wincing, Shiptar took his earpiece out, took his wrist comm off, then pocketed them both. He cautiously looked over his shoulders. A colourful group of tiny Squibs wearing fashionable winter garments were staring at him as he crouched behind the ski rack. Their ears were perked up.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Shiptar gasped, rolling out of the way then backing up to a wall, next to a fire extinguisher.

Itoll and Fojo emerged from the shop, bags filled with snow gear, now each carrying an expensive set of brand-new hover skis.

"Did you see that Wookiee?" Fojo asked.

"Nah," Itoll answered then giggled, before gargling in a deep Shyriiwook voice. "Hell naa!"

"Really? There was a really ugly dark brown Wookiee crouching right there," Fojo said, pointing to exactly where Shiptar had been standing. "Ugliest Wookiee I have ever seen. Face like a wolf! Huge teeth. He was staring at you. It was like you were a tasty snack. He even licked his lips! I have never seen anything like it. It was… Well, weird."

Itoll sniffed the air furiously. "Nope, I—I don't smell any Wookiees."

"There's no way I imagined it!"

"You're probably hung over," Itoll growled, ears batting.

That's cute, Shiptar thought, smiling at Itoll's ears.

"Come on!" Itoll yelped. "It's already noon. Just two hours till the sun sets. We gotta hit the slopes to have any daylight skiing with an advanced instructor. I hate night-time skiing."

"I… I probably need an intermediate instructor," Fojo said nervously.

"Well, whatever," Itoll snarled, grabbing the Rodian's hand and pulling him along. "Come on! We have to move!"

Breaking contact with his targets for a moment, Shiptar swore under his breath, rushing into the ski shop. He had to buy skis, get out of the mall, buy a ski pass, and be standing next to ski instructors by the time Itoll and Fojo arrived.

o.o.o.o.o

Panting, saliva dripped from Shiptar's tongue to the wooden floor of the ski lodge.

Thirty minutes had gone by. In that time, the Shistavanen had hurriedly bought hover skis, gloves, ski boots, and snow pants. Reasoning that the sun would be setting soon anyways, he had neglected to buy goggles.

While carrying skis, the Shistavanen had run two kilometres uphill to avoid waiting thirty minutes for a tram. After that, he had ridden a short train ride from Prosstäd to the town of Mitterlaken, then sprinted across town to the Mitterlaken ski lodge.

Completely exhausted, the Shistavanen's legs trembled as he took another step forward in line for ski passes. He pulled out his wrist comm, realising he had completely overlooked something.

"Actuarial, do you copy?"

"I hear you loud and clear, General," Hista said, voice echoing loudly from his wrist comm which was now projecting sounds on speaker mode.

The humans ahead of him in line turned around, looking for the one who had been called 'General.'

"Not right now Hista," Shiptar croaked. "Shassa I need a water."

"You sound beat!" Hista chuckled.

"Yeah, uh…" Shiptar looked nervously over his shoulder. "Would it be possible to list me in the Mitterlaken Ski Lodge as a contracted instructor, in the next minute or so?"

"Wow," Hista groaned in awe. "You Corporate Alliance types really improvisational… Damn. Okay I am on it."

"Thank you, Admiral," Tovrak whispered. He looked up at the human couple still staring at him. The Shistavanen made eye contact, staring directly into their eyes. "Is there something on my teeth?"

o.o.o.o.o

Water rushed into the thirsty Shistavanen's snout. After spending 16 kRR Francs on a bottle of water—the equivalent of 9 Separatist Credits—Shiptar was coughing and sputtering as he wolfed the water down. His nametag read Shiptar Moronvrak. The petulant Admiral had thought it a very funny idea to keep his first name the same, and then alter his last name to Moronvrak. Fortunately, most of the Squibs could not read Basic.

All of the dozen other ski instructors were Squibs. For some reason, purple seemed to be a popular colour for Squib ski instructors, but there was one blue instructor too. They stared fearfully at the very out of place Shistavanen, with water dripping from his snout. An ID badge and a lift pass hung from his orange coat.

Shiptar smiled at the fearful Squibs reassuringly. Just think of me as a big thirsty Squib. I am just like you, a ski instructor.

They looked away, averting his yellow eyes, some of them gasping and quaking in fear.

The floorboards began creaking as two booted footsteps came into hearing range. Shiptar's ears perked up as he stared into the entryway, noting that they were far louder than the one produced by Squibs. His new favourite aroma soon wafted into his nose.

"Well, yeah, so we still have an hour till sunset," Itoll growled optimistically. "I guess I wouldn't mind continuing after that since the slopes are lit and—Whoa!" he groaned in awe, involuntarily staring at the Shistavanen. He turned to Fojo, whispering, "is that a short Wookiee or? I don't even know. He doesn't smell like a Wookiee."

"I don't know either," Fojo whispered.

"Hello," Shiptar said in as friendly of a tone as he could manage.

"Okay, so not a Wookiee," Itoll muttered, sniffing the air curiously as he came closer. "Hey, so…"

"I—I could hear you," Shiptar stammered nervously to the Bothan and Rodian, not quite sure what to say. He had not planned this far ahead. "I—I am Shistavanen."

"Oh," Fojo said disinterestedly. "So Itoll, let's find an instructor who's good for—"

"—Why not an adult-sized instructor, Fojo?" Itoll interrupted.

So, we are using real names, Shiptar noted with a smirk.

"Fine. Are you any good…" Fojo's multifaceted eyes squinted as he read Shiptar's nametag, "Shiptar Moron Vrak?"

o.o.o.o.o

Shiptar gripped the bar in front of his seat nervously, muscles tense. He had never gone on an intermediate ski run before. "Okay, so we are going to take this nice and slow," he growled, "a warm-up."

"Oh! Look at that!" Itoll yipped with excitement at the half-pipes towards the bottom of the slope. His jet-black fur seemed to jiggle and move in the light. "I am gonna show those little Squibs how it is done!"

The Rodian blew on his hands, rubbing them together vigorously to warm them up. "So how long have you lived on Skor II?" he asked.

"Uh—uh, surprisingly not—Not that long," Shiptar stammered. You two knuckleheads have actually been here a whole day longer than I have.

"Exciting," Itoll yipped. "Moving to new planets. New sights and smells!"

"Itoll, stop being so loud," Fojo groaned. "You're right. I am a bit hung over."

Shiptar gripped the bar tighter as the lift approached the top of the slope.

The Rodian and the Bothan pushed up on the bar, trying to lift it. The Shistavanen held it firm, terrified to let go.

"Shiptar! We have to lift the bar!" Itoll snarled, flashing his teeth threateningly as he squirmed desperately in his seat.

With a groan, the Shistavanen lifted the bar, quaking in fear at the start of the slope ahead. The ski lift was heading directly towards a wooden platform far steeper than the slope itself.

Shiptar Tovrak was 302 pounds of raw power. When the Corporate Alliance hired Apex Security, they did not quite comprehend what they had paid for. This Shistavanen was one of the strongest living members of his species. He could beat the mightiest Wookiee in the Galaxy in an arm-wrestling match. He was able to hold his breath while swimming 100 meters underwater. He could dead lift the heaviest human bodybuilder with one arm. He could crush a tin can between two of his toes. He could tear a Super Battle Droid in half with his claws.

However, this particular Shistavanen could not make it down this ski slope without falling on his face.

Itoll soared gracefully from the ski lift, angling his hover skis in the perfect snowplow shape to slow his descent.

Fojo groaned in frustration, legs shaking as he slid down at full speed, barely able to stand.

Shiptar snarled in fury, falling face first into the snow, coughing and sputtering as he rolled. His right ski clipped the back of Fojo's leg, knocking the Rodian over.

Yelling in outrage, Fojo fell onto his buttocks, kicking up powder as bounced off the snow. "WHAT THE HELL?!"

Sliding headlong into a snowdrift, for the first time in years, the Shistavanen yelped in terror. His snout slammed into the icy crust. His skis flew skyward, testing the mighty Shistavanen's flexibility as they dragged his legs with them. Shiptar yelped even louder, fiery pain erupting in his crotch as his legs were forced into a near-split.

o.o.o.o.o

"Well, Shiptar! That was interesting," Itoll yipped, skiing circles around Fojo and Shiptar as they sat beside the lift. "Damn do Shistavanen's fall hard!"

"Please, call me Ship," Shiptar croaked.

"I vote we call you Tar instead," Fojo grunted bitterly, putting his hover skis back on.

Normally, Shiptar would have been furious at such an insult. He was too embarrassed for that though.

As he wallowed in self-pity, two humans and a Squib came down from the lift, skiing from the wooden ramp to the snow at the top of the mountain. Zipping around Itoll, Fojo, and Shiptar without incident, they went on their merry way.

"It is—" Shiptar started.

"—Can you even hover ski, Ship?" Itoll asked, coming to a stop in front of the Shistavanen.

"Yes," Shiptar sighed. "But I've never gone on an intermediate run."

"This whole thing is so suspicious," Fojo grunted, standing over Shiptar. "You lied about being a ski instructor and I am pretty sure you were the one stalking Itoll in the mall."

"That doesn't make sense!" Itoll growled. "How could someone in the mall have gotten to the slopes before us?"

"Oh well, I dunno Itoll," Fojo snorted sarcastically. "Taxi?"

Taxi? Oh hell, why didn't I think of that. Shiptar sighed, letting out a puff of steamy breath in the cold wind. Come on. Think… THINK! "I—I am sorry, but it is my first day on the job," he stammered. "I've always dreamed of leaving Murkhan—Uveni and being a ski instructor."

"All right," Itoll growled firmly. "You'll have to get better at skiing first. Perhaps Fojo and I can teach you some things? It's free."

o.o.o.o.o

The Bothan loved clearing hearing his own voice yap. His constant yammering chatter made Shiptar want nothing than to put something in Itoll's snout.

"So Ship, if you want to be an instructor, the first thing you have to do is ask questions," Itoll explained. "All you said on the lift was to 'take it slow.' You didn't ask what we were looking for, see?"

The trio were now skiing down the intermediate slope—Slowly.

Shiptar strained, snowflakes stuck in the fur around his eyes. His hover skis were in a plow shape. His arms trembled as he gripped his ski poles. Every few seconds, he would bang them into the snow to slow himself.

"This is definitely more amusing than having a ski instructor who actually knows what he's doing," Fojo scoffed.

As they went around a bend, a trilingual red sign read in Squibbian, Serwaldish, and Basic: "Didi Pazardim Rif. Vi Pümeleche Zona Kommt far Änd. End Slow Zone."

"All right Ship, let's pick up the speed!" Itoll yipped, straightening his skis out of a plow shape. He sped ahead, wind blowing his fur and whiskers.

Fojo cautiously straightened his skis, then picked up speed, leaving Shiptar in the dust.

With a despondent sigh, Shiptar straightened his skis, lifted his poles high, then fell onto his buttocks with a pained growl.

o.o.o.o.o

"Itoll!" Fojo yelled in frustration. "He's shady. He lied about everything. I don't get why we don't just leave him behind."

The Bothan's fur seemed to swirl for a moment as he stared at the Shistavanen. He reached his hand down to help Shiptar up.

The Shistavanen sighed as he took the gloved hand. Hista Hill is right. This was an… unprepared idea.

"Ship?" Itoll growled cautiously, "do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Fojo sighed angrily. "Who cares what he has to say! We can't trust him Itoll. He's clearly—Uh…"

As Shiptar stood up, he looked down at Itoll's face. There was something about his expression on that Bothan's face that made Shiptar smirk. Before he knew what he was doing, the Shistavanen was gripping the Bothan's snout firmly, yanking his chin up for a kiss. Gently squeezing the sides of Itoll's cheek bones to force his snout open, Shiptar shoved his tongue in.

Itoll's heterochromatic eyes went wide.

Fojo swore under his breath, gasping in alarm. "What the hell do you think you are doing?!"

Shiptar's eyes too went wide in panic as he looked at them both. What have I done? Should I just call in the droids?

Pushing off the Shiptar's chest, Itoll recoiled, snout scrunched in an angry snarl. He looked up at the Shistavanen, blinking with a startled expression.

"I am sorry—I don't know what came over me," Shiptar stammered.

Ears perked up, Itoll looked down at the Shistavanen's chest, then back up at his face. "Huh," he growled, smacking his lips as if to taste a new flavour. A second later, he grabbed Shiptar's ears, yanking the Shistavanen's face down, jamming his own tongue into Shiptar's much shorter snout.

Shiptar kissed back, slobbering all over the Bothan, then pulled back, coughing and sputtering.

"WHAT THE HELL!?" Fojo screamed louder than ever. His Rodian yell echoed off the mountain slopes, coming back in several directions.

"Huh," Itoll repeated, pulling away from the kiss with a smile, blinking his curly eyelashes daintily. "Fojo, you knew I was bi."

"Yeah but—but," he sputtered. "HOLY SHASSA! Jazal! You—"

"—Don't even bring her up," Itoll snarled, fuming as he spun towards the Rodian.

"You know how I said you shouldn't take a shassa where you eat?" Fojo asked angrily. "This is worse! This creature is kriffing twice your size! He has been stalking you all day and probably just wants to rob you."

"Take a shassa where I eat?!" Itoll snarled, scrunching his snout in disgust. "Nasty! I would never—"

"—It means don't kriff people you work with!" Fojo yelled. "You kriffed Jazal, Sey'les kriffed Wulf! All of you Bothans take a shassa where you eat!"

"—Well, I don't work with Ship," Itoll growled thoughtfully, stepping back from the Shistavanen and eying him head to toe. "And besides, I am just having a bit of fun. We're flying back to Coruscant in a couple days anyways."

Well, that was a pleasant turn of events! Maybe we'll be done skiing! Wait… Her… Her! A woman is involved, Shiptar thought strategically. He looked at the wimpy Rodian thoughtfully. I bet Fojo has a thing for Itoll, and I just made him jealous. I made a move on that Bothan's ass when that Rodian's been stewing for years in his own insecurity! This—I can work with this! If I can get Itoll and Fojo into a cabin for a three—

—With a push from his ski poles, Fojo slid down the slope, leaving the Bothan and Shistavanen behind. He began caterwauling in a shrill Rodian shriek that made both Itoll and Shiptar's ears fall fold back defensively. "YOU KNOW WHAT ITOLL! YOU CAN GO TO HELL! TO HELL WITH YOU! GET KRIFFED! GET ROBBED! LOOK LIKE A MORON! SEE IF I CARE!"

"Uh, wow," Itoll chuckled sheepishly with a look of sheer embarrassment. "Sorry about him."

Of course, Shiptar sighed despondently. Okay. I'll have to wait to move on Fojo. Maybe I can mop him up with Sey'les and Wulf when I locate their ship.