09
TOBIAS BECKETT
Slave 1's hatch opened and Jaster descended the ramp. Savareen's sunlight was filtered through his red helmet. Jaster tugged at his collar. Standing at the foot of the ramp, he looked out over the orange tinted ocean from the dying sun. On approach to the desert, oceanic world's orbit, Jaster had scanned for possible landing locations. Knowing that Savareen housed a Coaxium refinery, he decided to start there- why else would Beclett and Crimson Dawn come to this small dustbowl?
Pnakotic Coast was a small village that seemed to be swallowed by the sloping mounds of the beach. Old rundown huts of sheet metal with doomed rooftops looked as if natural disasters had eroded them away. A single large, establishment of metal tubing and large foundries was set off to the side of the village - still and abandoned. Lanterns hung about in the village against the fading light of the sun.
No port authority could be found and no one running up to Jaster to demand for his dwindling credits. With one hand set on the grip of one of his pistols from behind the shroud of his cape, Jaster climbed up the beach to the village. Many of the structures serving as homes and quaint vendors were scattered about appearing more like hollowed out starship wreckage than actual buildings. Jaster peered around, catching the suspicious eyes of villagers with sunbaked faces. Their clothing was simple yet colorful and tribal with wraps and shawls of hand woven quality. Not a single sign of weaponry or armor could be spotted, yet still Jaster kept his hand readily on his holstered blaster. A woman with the same suspicious stare passed him by.
"Hey," Jaster called for her attention. "Anywhere I can get a drink?" The woman paused next to him and with a scrawny arm, pointed up the beach to an open walled establishment. Jaster nodded her way before continuing up the sloped sand. The saloon was a large domed roof top draped with canvas awnings. The inside glowed warmly in lantern light. A large dilapidated distillery system was encircled by a makeshift bar where a small white bearded man with a dark skin tone stood in wait for Jaster's order. Jaster peered around the saloon wary of the unsettling silence that seemed to envelope all of the village apart from the crashing of the coastline. Only one other patron, a Twi'lek, stood at the bar with a single small porcelain cup.
"I'll have what he's got."
The small bearded man nodded before turning away to fill another cup from a jug by the distillery.
"Should have gone for the brandy instead," the Twi'lek chuckled. His orange face scrunched with a drunken smile. Jaster removed his red helmet and set it on the bar, paying the drunk no mind. He liked feeling the coolness of the beach air on his face. The man set the cup in front of Jaster without a word.
"Tobias Beckett," Jaster inquired. "Does that name mean anything to you?" The bartender stared blankly before turning away without a single word. "Hey," Jaster called.
"He can't talk to you," the Twi'lek chimed in. "None of them can." Jaster looked across the bar at the alien.
Two tail-like leku extensions hung from the back of his head behind a bulbous forehead where a set of polarized red lensed goggles sat. Around his neck was a kerchief that sat just below his pointed chin. The rest of his apparel was that of any spacer-a heavy jacket and cargo trousers. What really caught Jaster's eye was the gunbelt where no doubt a blaster was holstered just out of view. "What was the name again?"
Jaster hesitated, looking him up and down. At the moment, this Twi'lek was the only one who spoke to him. Given his experience so far with the mute woman that pointed him to the saloon and equally mute bar tender, he was given to believe the Twi'lek's claim.
"Tobias Beckett."
The Twi'lek downed the last of his cup and winced bitterly and blanched with a smack of his lips. "I know where he is."
"Where?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Business," Jaster replied simply."
"Well that tells me absolutely nothing," the Twi'lek said.
"I owe him, looking to pay him back."
The Twi'lek smirked. He didn't buy it. "This way," he beckoned with fingerless gloved hands. As the Twi'lek strode past, Jaster caught a glimpse of the blaster strapped to the alien's thigh. Jaster took the cup from the bar and spilled the clear liquid out on the sand, now was not a good time to risk intoxication from an unknown liquor.
With his helmet back on his head, Jaster followed the Twi'lek, his hand still on his blaster behind the cape. The Twi'lek led Jaster silently through the village to the outskirts up a hill of sand. Jutting from the sandy hilltop were rows of six foot tall black jagged obelisks like the teeth of a creature. The Twi'lek paused and pointed into the cluster of black obelisks. Jaster cautiously stepped in their midst. In between two obelisks, was a mound of sand with a large flat stone set on top. He inched closer peered down at the stone. His helmet's visor zoomed in on the characters roughly scratched by hand onto the surface of the stone. The name took some effort to read from the crudity of the inscription. Tobias Beckett.
"He's dead?" From behind, Jaster heard a click. His hand moved to draw his Westar. The blaster rang as the bolt struck him in the back and Jaster yowled as he dropped on top of the grave mound. A freshly burned hole continued to smoke in Jaster's tan cape.
"Nothing personal kid, just can't let you interfere with my bounty," the Twi'lek waved his blaster pistol as he spoke. He clicked his tongue with pity as he began to turn away. Jaster suddenly flipped onto his back-his Westar blaster drawn—and he fired. The shot echoed as the Twi'lek stood on shaking legs, clutching at his stomach, eyes drawn to the exposed olive green armor plating the young bounty hunter wore under his cape. As the Twi'lek bounty hunter collapsed to the sand, Jaster stood stiffly, grunting from the throb on his back. The Beskar Mandalorian armor proved itself in Jaster's eyes, now thankful he had decided to wear it.
Jaster stood over the Twi'lek, his blaster hovering over the alien's anguished face. "Didn't see that coming," he groaned.
"Crimson Dawn hire you?" Jaster inquired.
"Yes."
"Who killed Beckett?"
"No clue."
"Then who buried him?"
"Don't know. Probably his crew."
"His crew?"
The Twi'lek clamped his mouth shut and stared defiantly at Jaster.
"You're dying. I can make it easier or worse, you choose. Talk."
The Twi'lek sighed with shaken resolve. "I don't know. All I know is that they came in about a week ago with a ton of raw Coaxium."
"I want names," Jaster growled.
"I don't know," the Twi'lek winced. "You'll have to do that part yourself."
With his blaster still poised over the Twi'lek's head, Jaster pieced it all together in his mind-the Coaxium was the key.
"That's all I know. Please just finish me," the Twi'lek winced again.
"As you wish." Jaster pulled the trigger, his blaster pistol still smoking as looked down on the bounty hunter dead in the sand. Jaster crouched down and searched the body. From his belt, he found a pouch of credit chips—Jaster couldn't help but smirk as he pocketed them in his own credit pouch. Very little else was of value to him except for the hand held datapad which was stowed in the cargo pocket of his trousers. Jaster flipped through the touchscreen interface, finding a starship registration, potentially more for Jaster to scavenge. The screen showed the image of a simple saucer shaped Flarestar Class shuttle under the name of Aal Gosha. Jaster looked back down at Aal's body and nodded. "Thanks."
