Chapter One
The principle cantina at Alliance Headquarters, the one with the short walk outside to a combination of great views and long drops, was truly a place that never slept. Operations, after all, continued at all hours, with scientists, soldiers, smugglers, and even Sith coming and going with no regard for the local day and night cycle. The arrival of dawn didn't stop the influx of personnel and therefore the bar couldn't possibly be allowed to shut down. Bartenders worked in shifts, aided by robust and nearly tireless droids that slowly acquired a dense patina of ale stains and whiskey splashes as their week-long shifts stretched to the end.
Most of the clientele, seeking a respite for bleary-eyes between the seemingly unending assignments that ground upon the Alliance's heavily burdened personnel, rarely noticed.
Kanner sat at one of the round tables near the long bar, a position he'd gradually learned was among the quieter points in the cantina. Soldiers, whether their uniforms marked them as Alliance, Empire, or Republic in origin, tended to cluster towards the walls out of some bizarre imperative towards security. Louder private parties, like Paxton Rall's rambunctious pirate crew or the endlessly chattering band of Jawas that haunted the base during dark hours, tended to claim one of the side rooms. That left up front as the best place to nurse a cold Corellian Ale undisturbed.
Steadily mulling through a low alcohol buzz with the old classics on the jukebox – all attempts to please the Alliance's astonishingly diverse range of potential drinkers resulted in extremely anodyne background tracks – suited his mood of late. He'd done his time as partying in raucous bunches with glass held high, every ship captain did, but a glance across the little round table to the other empty stools served only to summon ghosts. He blinked those away quickly and gulped down a throat-filling portion in the hopes of forestalling any reappearances.
Victory, he supposed, was something you had to take slowly. Otherwise it just might drag you down.
Hours passed by. Kanner went through one ale, then another, and was carefully working his way through the third as afternoon bent towards evening. He wasn't drunk, just vaguely morose. At the first hint of sunset, as cool orange rays bent around the doors to carry the twinge of the outdoors into this shielded space, he considered taking a walk. Memory swiftly dissuaded that impulse. The once grand forests near Headquarters were now charred and slashed ruins, blasted apart by artillery fire and torn to shreds by World Thrashers. Ghosts too, were far more pervasive in the wilds than here beneath the duracrete walls.
These empty hours presented a conundrum to him, sitting and watching the walls. He wasn't used to spare time planetside, not anymore. For two years he'd been scrambling from one desperate supply run to the next, dashing about the galaxy seeking any possible resource to feed the flickering fire of the Alliance as it stared down the obliterating might of Zakuul. Through the long years before that he'd done much the same just trying to stay ahead of the Eternal Empire's customs officers. Most days he'd been lucky to find time to collapse into his bunk aboard ship before the next job came through.
Things were different now. The supply division cobbled together from the galaxy's braver, or possibly just most hateful and reckless, dregs now served alongside the Eternal Fleet. A military force so mighty it could spare most of its resources for supply runs and at the same time staffed by droids who didn't mind the duty; compared to that, the cargo he could contribute was less than marginal. Oh, he was sure that one of the managers would find something for him to do soon enough, but it wouldn't be important, not in the way it used to be when every blaster, every grenade, mattered.
As he contemplated whether it would be acceptable to order a fourth ale, a nagging part of his mind began to consider whether it might be time to consider a return to civilian pursuits. Some of the old contacts were still alive, he knew, and it looked like a good time to get back into the field. Freed from the Eternal Empire's quotas the Republic was sure to build up their military again. There was money to be made, and it would be better to get in early.
Ghosts flickered at the edges of his vision, red-shifted and skittering away from focus. A clear message that he wasn't ready. He wasn't done with the Alliance, not yet. He could only hope it wasn't done with him.
Sunk deep into recalled reflection, Kanner barely noticed when a slender frame descended to occupy the seat across from him. He looked up in time to catch a second new arrival settle in with a delicate ruffle. This one caused him to stop and stare.
The first face was familiar, an instantly recognized combination of yellow-green skin, triangular tattoos, and light worry lines beneath bright eyes full of wisdom touched by mischievousness. A famous visage, the features of a revered figure from the Fringe for decades, and now one of the principle leaders of the Alliance. There was no chance for any self-respecting spacer to mistake Hylo Visz.
While the personal attention of the Alliance's top logistics manager was unexpected, it wasn't unheard of, and Kanner could slot that into the course of his day well enough. Rather, the woman who took the seat next to the Mirialian smuggler was the source of his confusion and a swift downward retreat towards his glass.
She was human, and a spacer who knew her business surely. The latter was obvious from the thick-pocketed belt and dual-bandoleer mounted back canisters she bore, one of which seemed to hold a magnetic grapple. Yet she defied all other expectations for the breed. Most women who took up shipboard life wore simple flightsuits or loose jackets and carried themselves with a wearied griminess to match any of the men aboard. Not so this one. Her gloves were refined dark leather, not nerf hide but some exotic beast, and she wore a fabulous blue skirt of shimmering cerulean that elegantly concealed all but the glossy black tips of her boots. Perfect blonde hair rose in an elaborate wrapped coiffure pulled tight behind her skull before descending in a refined braid down the back, Her face was a precision-engineered oval; model-smooth skin, and bright lipstick rested beneath brilliant blue eyes that to Kanner's eyes seemed to encompass the totality of the world.
More than beautiful, though she was surely that, this woman might have been the most glamorous person he'd ever shared a table with.
As he shifted his eyes downward to avoid blatant ogling he wondered who she might possibly be, and why in space Hylo Visz had brought her to see him.
"Kanner Elysar," it was the legend who broke the silence, voice filled with a refined subtle mixture of amusement and confidence as ever it was. "Drinking away the evening and fighting off boredom. I thought I'd never see the day you took a whole shift between assignments." She smiled beneath pale eyes. "For a while there we thought you were trying to set some kind of record. Nico even had you in the pool."
"Huh," that was a new bit of trivia. "Surprised he'd make such a bad bet. Silas crushed everyone after Darvannis. The Mandos are insatiable." The Rattataki woman was also ruthless in a way Kanner could never match. It was hard to make money off a war when you committed fully to one side, and somehow he'd committed more to the Alliance than he ever would have to the Republic. Looking down into the nearly empty glass, he wished he could have said why.
"Nico Okarr's lost more bets than any ten other smugglers," Hylo smiled, amusement reaching just to the edge of her eyes. "But he's also won more than any twenty. He always seems to come out ahead in the end. Question is, though," She leaned forward, black gloves tapping on the table as fingers impishly walked their way to the center. "Are you enjoying your free time?"
Maybe it was the ales, or the hours, but something kicked its way up Kanner's jaw then, and knocked loose the truth. "No." He replied bluntly. "You've got the Eternal Fleet now, you don't need me or my buddies, those of us who are left." Their seats might be occupied now, but the ghosts hadn't left the table by any means. "So if you've got work," there was no other reason for Hylo to bother with him, and given her importance it had to be something dangerous and secretive to bring her out in person. "I'm ready to launch any time."
"You shouldn't agree so easily," this time the smile passed all the way through her face. "It takes the fun out of it." Her glove flipped over to reveal a thin datacard. "I do have a job for you, but it's not a solo op."
Gaze shifted to the glimmering presence next to Hylo, Kanner desperately wished he was wearing his filtration mask. As it was, he suspected this woman could see exactly how she affected him written clear across his face. "I don't think you two have met," Hylo continued. "Allow me to introduce Arleyk Smaugan, she's been working on the targeting end of our business. In fact, some of the caches you ran down were located as part of her efforts."
Arleyk extended one gloved hand with all the delicate imperiousness of an Alderaanian noble, fingers extended and thumb below. "A pleasure." She sounded like a courtier too.
Kanner blinked, wondering if he was supposed to kiss the glove. Too off-balance to try to play such games, he settled for briefly grasping the dark gloves in his charcoal grays and offering an awkward shake. Something played across the crystalline blue eyes in response, but he could not have guessed what it might indicate. "Likewise."
The exchange appeared to amuse Hylo to no end. "Believe it or not," she chuckled. "You two joined up with the Alliance for the same reason."
"What business were you in?" Kanner followed the thread easily enough, curiosity leading him to speak first.
Unperturbed, the answer dripped from crimson lips with liquid grace. "Miscellaneous luxuries. I engaged to supply the high-end auction market with historical curiosities, legacy technologies, and anything else the galaxy's elite might fancy. As you may recognize, the Eternal Empire all but eliminated that market."
Arcann's tribute demands had hit the rich hard, that much was true. Kanner didn't exactly sympathize, but he supposed if you'd built your whole persona around appealing to them it would be a crushing blow. The admission allowed him to gain the first sliver of appreciation for how carefully crafted the perfectly composed mask Arleyk bore must be. "You couldn't sell to Zakuul instead?" he wondered aloud as he sought to place this incomplete piece.
The blond woman turned her head and scoffed with an expression of imperious disdain that would have done any Senator proud. "Zakuul? Their entire society was built by droids, mass-produced, identical, and instant. They wouldn't be able to appreciate an artisanal antique if you broke it over their face." Something dark in her eyes suggested this statement was true in a very literal sense. "And you?" She poured the forceful focus of her attention across the small space at him.
"I was in specialty procurement, for the Republic." The words tumbled out of Kanner. Some part of him knew it to be manipulation, the hormone-triggered desire to impress this woman, but awareness was not the same thing as resistance. "Blaster mods, enhanced macrobinoculars, prototype armor linings, that sort of thing. The real stuff too, not just relabeled junk," he amended in preemptive defense. "Then Zakuul ended the war and put their crushing quota into place. I barely got out with a ship under me."
"At which point you switched over to deep-space recovery and salvage," Hylo's interjection jerked both heads back. "And you," she turned to Arleyk. "To freelance analysis. Complementary disciplines, don't you think? Doesn't matter if you don't, this is a two-person job, it's either both of you or nothing, and you have to agree up front."
It was classic Hylo, Kanner recognized a moment later. She'd trapped them both with ease. He, of course, would never turn down the chance to work with a woman who seemed to have walked out of the better class of his fantasies. And Arleyk, he grasped from a noted omission in her explanation, clearly wanted to get off Odessen and didn't have a ship of her own.
"I'm in," he responded at once.
"Yes, we are agreed, no need to keep us in suspense," the golden-cloaked skull flickered back and forward.
Hylo Visz tapped the datacard. "Recorded on here are the coordinates of several worlds mentioned in logs recovered from Iokath. With the cessation of hostilities the Doc finally had time to run a proper analysis, and that Findsman Yuun figured out a way to cross-index the locations. The information here should let you locate a half-dozen or so of the worlds Iokath targeted for their weapons tests." She flipped the datacard into the air, then effortlessly caught it between two fingers upon descent. "Honestly, there's probably nothing but rubble left, that's why it wasn't a high priority before this, but I don't like leaving unknowns out there unexplored. You never know what opportunities might be hiding. So you two are going to run them down."
Kanner looked from the datacard, to Hylo, and finally met Arleyk's piercing aquamarine eyes. "Iokath." The word hissed out between clenched teeth.
"Quite." Unexpectedly, they found themselves perfectly in sync.
Truthfully, he didn't have a lot of details. Almost everything about the bizarre mission to Iokath was classified, including the location of the artificial habitat. Despite that, the crew of the Gravestone was terrible at keeping secrets, especially when drunk, and word had gotten around. "Well," Kanner shrugged. "I suppose we already agreed, and you just want reconnaissance right? An assessment of whatever's left in these systems?"
"For now that's it." Hylo nodded. "If you find something dangerous we've got people for that job."
"Does anyone else have this information?" Arleyk questioned, a point the captain considered important. "The Empire? Republic? Perhaps Iokath itself?"
"Iokath's baking in killing radiation, and the only other people who could have this information are from Zakuul. If you run into them, well, run." Hylo smirked.
"Fine." Kanner reached down and gulped the last mouthful of ale. "Consider me aboard. No time like the present to get going." He turned to his new companion and forced himself to meet those eyes head on. "My ship's the Dustchaser, docking platform seventy-eight. Meet up by twenty-three hundred local, we'll launch by midnight. It's just you, me, and my astromech Caytoo. Any problems with that?"
"None." Arleyk rose from the table in a smooth motion, silkily unfolding to upright. "I assure you I will arrive punctually."
As she walked out, Hylo chuckled again. "Yes, she is single," she jumped ahead to answer a question he'd not dared to voice aloud. "But if you take up that hunt, I'm pretty sure it'll be the more dangerous of the two. May the Force be with you captain."
After he left the cantina Kanner stood on the ledge for a long while, wondering exactly what he'd gotten into. "You had your chance at leaving," he grumbled under his breath as he looked up to the stars. "Now you've got Iokath." He supposed he deserved to get what he wanted. That's what victory meant, after all.
Chapter Notes
Kanner Elysar and Arleyk Smaugan are canon characters, though both are no longer in the game. Arleyk was the Republic Smuggler vendor on Oricon, while Kanner served the same role on Yavin 4 prior to gear restructuring. I have chosen to have them join the Alliance, as smugglers, they logically fall under Hylo Visz's purview.
This story is set in 3630 BBY, after KOTET but before the 'War on Iokath' events that followed, essentially during the period when the Uprisings take place.