Chapter IV - Cantina Ambush
Anakin was amused to discover the landlady standing the middle of his kitchen when he opened his apartment door that evening, looking forward to some relaxation after his first Jedi lesson.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hendrix," he greeted. He'd asked once if she was related to the late rock singer, but the "SOB"-laced earful he'd gotten from her was not something he wished to relive.
"Mr. Skywalker, you gotta do somethin' about those stormtroopers hangin' out in the stairwell!" she replied, tapping her foot imperiously. "They're givin' the other tenants the creeps!"
He calmly walked past her to the refrigerator, opened it, and removed two Vanilla Cokes. He was quite fond of Mrs. Hendrix, he supposed. She was an African-American single mother in her late 30s, with a big-boned but well-shaped body and quite handsome features. Steve had often remarked that she looked like Queen Latifah, but Anakin had never seen the actress and couldn't compare. Mrs. Hendrix was quite open and blunt when she spoke, never taking guff from her tenants. He liked that spunk.
"I've put up with a lot from you," she went on, slipping into one of her common spiels. "I can handle the foamin'-at-the-mouth geeks trompin' in here for autographs. I can handle your sackloads of fan mail. I can handle that son of yours and that rat-pack of geeks that follow you 'round. I can even handle the death threats every other week. But I'm not puttin' up your troops! We have a Constitutional Amendment against that, y'know!"
"I apologize, ma'am," he told her, unruffled. He handed her a soda. "But it was not my decision to bring them here."
"Honey, I don't care if you brought 'em here or the Man in the Moon did! At least put 'em outside where they won't get in the way!"
"I'll be sure to tell them." He opened his air intake vent and took a long draught. When he was finished he added "I can understand how my bodyguards frustrate you, but they will not be here long if I have anything to say about it. I don't particularly want them here myself."
She smiled, her mood lightening a bit. "Your son's gettin' overprotective of you again, huh?"
Anakin finished his drink and tossed the can in the trash. "At this rate, I'm going to have my own personal squadron of stealth troopers escorting my wheelchair around the nursing home."
She laughed. "Ah, don't be too insulted by it, honey. Least you know he cares about you."
He gave a gentle chuckle. "I've never given the boy reason to care about me, and yet he does. He may have my strength in the Force and independent streak, but he has his mother's heart."
She popped the tab on her drink and took a swig. "When's he gettin' back from wherever he is?"
"Two weeks, if all goes well. After that bombing at my daughter's wedding it was decided that he should stay away from Earth awhile. That might confuse his attacker and even draw them out."
"If he's the one bein' shot at, why do you have the bodyguards?"
"I must admit, that gap in logic astounds me, too."
"How'd you enjoy playing 'Daddy Daycare?'"
He gave an exaggerated groan and lowered himself into a chair, pretending to be decrepit. "They have far too much energy. I was finally able to get them to calm down by starting lessons, only to discover they're terrified of my mask. Patrick is enjoying all this, but Jason is about ready to borrow a tranquilizer gun from the Denver Zoo."
She laughed.
"I hope I convinced them that I wouldn't harm them," he went on. He cupped his chin in one hand. "It's this armor. It still labels me as Darth Vader. It will be a happy day when I am able to be rid of it once and for all."
"May the Force grant you patience, honey, 'cause you want it right now!" Mrs. Hendrix announced.
He burst into laughter.
"Aw, relax. The ban can't last forever. And a donor's bound to pop up sooner or later." She sat down next to him. "B'sides, once your sentence's up you're home free."
"Four years..." he mumbled, wishing he could sigh. Again he cursed the blasted mask.
Mrs. Hendrix picked up a garbage sack and plopped it on the table before him. "Your weekly load of fan mail. Want to borrow a shredder?"
"Nah. I like to read them." He opened the first one and admired the artwork, done by a six-year-old boy from Iowa. "Nice picture."
"What's it supposed to be?" she asked.
"Looks like my old TIE fighter. With me at the controls. This is going up on my refrigerator!" He stood to post it.
"One from New Mexico," she announced, ripping open another envelope. "'Dear Mr. Skywalker, I don't understand why you went with such a wimpy name as Anakin. I mean, come on, Ani? Sounds like the little red-head brat from Broadway. Darth Vader sounded at least halfway cool. Why not switch to Mordak or Slasher or something tough-sounding? Loved the movies, by the way. Signed, Tony Pollock.'"
Anakin gave her an incredulous look. "Mordak?"
"Do all these letters get written by weirdos?"
"Not all, but enough to make things interesting. Open the next one."
"As lovely as I remember it," Luke mused as he and his students trekked down Mos Eisley's main street.
"The wretched hive of scum and villainy, eh?" Gabriel quipped.
Tatooine's double suns had leeched color from every surface, so thanks to the light and dust most everything that had been outside for long was pretty much the same shade of gray-tan. There was, however, a vast variety of color and life in the garb of off-worlders, the faces of the eclectic mix of aliens that lived here, and the wares set up in a dozen outdoor shops. The buildings, vehicles, and even the natives seemed weathered and battered, bearing the scars from the battle to scratch out a living on this harsh world.
The center street was more crowded than ever, for a veritable exodus of refugees was streaming into town. Farmers, prospectors, naturalists, smugglers, even Jawas arrived on foot, in speeders, or atop dewbacks, rontos, eopies, and banthas. Many had fled with whatever they could throw together in five minutes; some only had the clothes on their backs. A few transported the gravely wounded.
"Looks bad, Master," Chyna said.
"I know," Luke replied.
Gabriel looked around gravely. "My grandpapa, he used to tell of living in Paris during World War II," he said. "When the Nazis were marching through France, people from all over fled to the city before it fell to the Germans. It was like this."
Korie roared. /What can we do to help them, Master?/ she sent through the Force.
"I'm not sure."
"You there!"
A Weequay strode briskly toward their group. Luke recognized him as the newly elected governor of Tatooine and bowed. "Hello, Governor Nitch."
"Master Jedi, I'm glad you've come," Nitch said gladly, shaking Luke's hand. "Please, come inside where it's cool." He ushered Luke and his students toward a building that Luke remembered well -- the cantina where he'd first met Han Solo and Chewbacca.
"I don't care to tangle with your local goonsssss my firssssst day here," Xna pointed out.
"Don't worry, this is a reputable establishment now," Nitch assured them. "New owner, new laws. We're working to civilize Tatooine."
"Too bad," Hekku rasped with a chirping chuckle. "A civilized Tatooine would lose much of its charm."
Luke didn't sense much change in the cantina's atmosphere. It was still a smoky, dim building with a hodgepodge of creatures within it. Most of said creatures still looked as questionable as ever, but then, owners usually had little control over their cliente. The place was cleaner, though, with a fresh coat of paint and upgraded systems and appliances. Fig'rin Dan and his band were still present, though the old bartender wasn't. In his place was a berobed, tan-skinned man with jet-black hair and an attitude that screamed "Earth man," even though the only outward sign of it was a gold crucifix hanging over his chest.
"Rounds for everyone here," Nitch told the bartender, gesturing to his companions.
"Will that be your usual, senor?" asked the barkeep, looking up. His dark eyes went wide when he saw the Jedi.
"Ay carumba! Senor Skywalker!" He reached across the counter to shake Luke's hand. "I'm Ricardo. I own this place. Bought it off the last guy. Pleased to meet you."
"Hello, Ricardo," Luke greeted. "With this influx of people, business must be booming."
Ricardo shook his head. "No, senor. Most of the poor souls out there haven't a peso on them. I've been donating food and drinks as often as I can, but I have a business to run." He shrugged apologetically.
"Your help has been immensely appreciated, Ricardo," Nitch told him. "We've been placing the refugees in camps just outside the city and placing guards from the Bestine Republic Army Base. Most of the food and other provisions we've been giving them has come from privately owned businesses in Tatooine's major towns. It might appear to be a lawless, uncivilized planet, but in a crisis we stick together."
"What do you know about the pirates that might be of use to us, Governor?" asked Hekku, swirling his drink around in its glass.
"Not much," Nitch replied. "They don't seem to have a definite purpose for their actions. As far as we can tell, they're just picking random targets to slap around. Some towns and settlements, like Anchorhead, have only suffered an occasional burglary. Others, like the geologist encampment at Beggar's Canyon, have been destroyed entirely. And from survivor reports, we've learned that they come in a variety of species and appear to be from a variety of worlds. The only thing they have in common is that they wear this symbol somewhere on their clothing, usually on the shoulder or arm." He produced a scrap of bright green flightsuit cloth and stretched it so the design was visible.
Luke studied the mark -- a blood-red silhouette of a winged dragon with a gold starburst on its breast. It wasn't the mark of any pirating guild he was familiar with. In fact, it looked almost like a royal seal or coat of arms, but he couldn't quite place it.
"Any of you make anything of this?" he asked.
Korie barked a few words. The translator on her shoulder spoke in a high feminine voice that seemed unnatural coming from the Wookie's direction: "It's the crest of the Imperial Family of the Kruvex system, Master Skywalker."
Luke frowned, not liking the sound of this. "You're sure?"
"I second her," Chyna replied. "I saw it in the files of the Jedi Archives back at the Academy."
"Kruvex?" Nitch repeated. "I've never heard of it."
"It was a sovereign system of the Old Republic," Luke told him. "Its natives, the Kruvexians, were a highly telepathic species, and many of them became Jedi. When the Empire came into power, it almost entirely wiped out the Kruvexian species due to their Force sensitivity. Now only a few hundred are left. Their homeworld is in shambles, but they're doing their best to reclaim and rebuild it."
Xna curled his tail tip under his chin in thought. "Ssssso why would one be attacking Tatooine? Even a vengeful one? Tatooine wasssss never exactly an Imperial ssssstronghold, after all. Wouldn't it make more sssssense for him or her to go after the Imperial Remnant?"
Luke agreed that it didn't make sense -- not just that Kruvex was behind the assault on Tatooine, but that they were attacking another planet at all. Kruvexians weren't exactly a pacifist species -- their volcanic homeworld had made them a tough race, and before the Military Creation Act they had maintained the largest non-mechanical army in the Republic. But conquest and vengeance hadn't been their way. Even the Kruvexian survivors he'd interviewed didn't seem bitter toward the Empire and were much more interested in repairing Kruvex than in laying claim to another, less damaged world.
"There are many questions to be answered," Luke said at last. "And I assure you that we will try to find answers. We'll work on contacting the pirate leader. Then we'll find their motivation and negotiate a truce, if possible. I'd like to leave fighting as a last resort, but we'll do that, if necessary, to defend Tatooine and put an end to the siege."
Ricardo jerked his head toward the back. "I got rooms for rent in the back. You and your amigos can stay for free, Master Skywalker."
Luke laughed. "Just credit the Republic for the charge. No use shorting anybody right now."
A loud crash awoke Hekku in the infant hours of the morning, and he kicked off his covers and grabbed his lightsaber. That sound had come from the inside of the cantina! He extended his awareness to encompass the entire establishment. Aside from the Jedi and Ricardo, who seemed to be in distress, he sensed four others. Intruders, he realized, with quite hostile intentions.
They were about to get their first glimpse of those behind Tatooine's problems.
He stepped into the hall, where Korie already waited, her deactivated lightsaber in her claws. Her silvery fur seemed to glow in the dim light of the hall.
"You hear them too?" whispered Hekku.
/Smell them/ Korie replied mentally, baring her fangs. /They reek of trouble. We'd better wake the others./
"Hey, girlfriend, we can handle this on our own," Hekku pointed out, grinning adventurously. "We've handled plenty of foes in larger groups than this."
/In the training room, yes/ she replied sternly. /But these aren't holograms or droids, Hekku. These are real. And they'll have no qualms about killing us./
Gabriel exited his room, barefoot and wearing only a white nightshirt. "Guests?" he asked, flicking out his weapon.
"Good, we have another partner," Hekku noted. "Let's go, you two."
"Not yet," Gabriel replied. "Call Master Skywalker, Korie."
"You two are no fun," snorted Hekku as Korie sent a ripple of alarm along the Force. Seconds later the others emerged, Xna bleary-eyed but clutching his lightsaber in his tail, Chyna in a cotton shift and a hastily pulled-on jacket, and Luke quickly fastening the sash on a robe.
"Nice of you to invite us instead of attempting to neutralize the threat yourselves," Luke noted. It was a compliment of sorts, thanking the students for not being impulsive or rash. Hekku looked away, knowing his attitude had gotten him in trouble before.
There was muffled shouting inside the cantina, then a solid thump as a blow was dealt.
"Please, senor, just take the money and leave!" shouted Ricardo.
"Maybe we wanna have a little fun 'fore we go," came a snarl.
At Luke's signal the six of them charged into the cantina, lightsabers hissing to life. Luke and Korie wielded green blades, while Chyna, Gabriel, and Xna carried blue weapons. Hekku's blade shimmered a queer red-gold color, having been crafted with a massif-eye stone from his native Geonosis.
In the multicolored light illuminating the room they could see Ricardo's attackers. A ragged, slimy-looking human and a bulky Trandoshan wearing a cinnamon-brown Wookie pelt over his shoulders were holding the bruised bartender's arms while a goateed, bare-chested Balosaur stood before him, arm drawn back for another blow. Standing nearby, watching the proceedings, was a being in copper-and-black Mandalorian armor, holding a sawed-off blaster rifle with which to finish off Ricardo when the others were done with him. All of them wore the Kruvexian crest on their shoulders, except the Balosaur, who had the symbol tattooed to his chest.
"Well, whaddaya know?" sneered the human. "Jedi just joined the party."
The Trandoshan snarled. "They should know not to force themselves into our affairs."
The Balosaur gave an obnoxious laugh. "Hey everyone, the lizard made a funny!"
Luke stepped forward. "You will surrender to us peacefully and leave this gentleman be, or we will subdue you by any means necessary."
The human glared contemptuously at Luke, then turned toward the Mandalorian. "Boss, whatcha think?"
The warrior was silent a moment, then put out an arm and gave a thumbs-down gesture.
"Sorry, no go," he told the Jedi. "We fight." He threw Ricardo into the Trandoshan's arms and reached for a blaster carbine at his belt.
Luke used his lightsaber to deflect the ensuing blaster shots while Gabriel gestures sharply to a long coil of flexible tubing being used to distill Kessel rock-whiskey. The tubing flew across the room, spraying liquid as it went, before wrapping itself securely around their attacker from shoulders to ankles. He tried to wriggle loose but only succeeded in toppling himself like a felled tree.
The Mandalorian brought the rifle to bear, aiming for Hekku. He sprang into the air, beating his wings for lift, to avoid the warrior's fire. Tatooine was a heavier-gravity planet than Geonosis, making true flight impossible for him, but he managed a gliding ark that brought his feet down on his foe's chest. The impact knocked the Mandalorian to the floor, and Hekku whirled his lightsaber behind him to slice the pirate's gun apart. Before his foe could react, Hekku drove the butt of his saber into the back of the mercenary's neck to bring on unconsciousness.
Meanwhile, Chyna and Korie took on the Trandoshan.
"A Wookie," the reptile snarled in pleasure. "Her pelt will make a fine addition to my collection." He threw the bartender aside and pulled a blaster on her, only to crumple to the ground as she blasted his mind with the Force. Being Force-blind, the pirate couldn't shield the attack and so was incapacitated, at least temporarily.
The Balosaur, meanwhile, leered at Chyna, holding a vibroblade. She kicked him where she figured she'd get the best results, and while he was doubled over in pain Xna flicked his body like a coachwhip to knock him off his feet.
Luke extinguished his lightsaber and motioned for his students to follow suit. "Well done all. Now secure them. We'll send them back to Corusant for trial. Except that one." He pointed at the Mandalorian. "We'll retain him for questioning."
"Gracias, gracias, gracias," babbled Ricardo, embracing Luke. "You saved my life! Whatever can I do to repay you?"
"For starters," replied Luke, "you can add the cost of all damages done to your establishment to our tab. Add a healthy tip for your own troubles, any medical bills you may have from this incident, and your excellent service to us."
He nodded, then went behind the counter to inspect the damage.
Luke knelt beside the Mandalorian and placed his hand atop the T-slit helmet. The pirate groaned and awoke.
"Jedi," their captive hissed in a voice that would have been quite dulcet had it not been hard with anger. "Why did it have to be Jedi?"
"Sacre bluer, a woman!" Gabriel exclaimed.
"Of course I'm a woman!" she snarled. "Do you think only men can be suitable warriors?"
"We have questions," Luke said, cutting off her tirade. "And we'd like answers."
She raised her chin haughtily. "Kill me now. The Mandalorian order -- what's left of it, anyway -- is bound by honor."
"Tell us who you are," Luke requested, waving his hand.
Her resolve dimmed a little, but her voice was as venomous as ever. "I'm a Mandalorian, one of the few left after the Jedi slaughtered us decades ago. Fair pay when YOUR kind got butchered by the Empire. Rest assured we shed no tears over them."
"What do the Mandalorians have to gain from attacking Tatooine?"
"We have nothing against this planet, wretched though it is," she snarled. "We're mercenaries, not idealists. We're being well-paid for our efforts here."
"And all of you have allied yourselves to the pirates' cause?"
"Not all. That damned Boba Fett's still off with that blasted wench of a wife of his, not that he ever gave his father's old comrades so much as a how-do-you-do. What a brat!"
Gabriel snorted in laughter. Chyna elbowed him in the ribs.
"What's your employers motivation?" Luke pressed.
She tried to resist the question but failed. "All I know is that Darth Vader murdered his... his..." Her breath petered out with a high wheeze, and in a panic she clutched her throat.
/She's choking!/ Korie reached for her helmet.
It was too late. With a gruesome snap the unknown entity that had attacked her finished its job. The Madalorian's corpse collapsed against Luke.
"The Force," muttered Luke, feeling for a pulse. "I knew it."
"At leasssst we know who'ssss behind thissssss," Xna pointed out. "A male Jedi who ssssurvived the Purge and wantssss vengeanccccce for a loved one."
"Gabriel," Luke ordered, "get on a comm and call the police to take the pirates and the coroner to get this woman's body. The rest of you stand watch and look for clues. I need to contact my father."
Anakin was amused to discover the landlady standing the middle of his kitchen when he opened his apartment door that evening, looking forward to some relaxation after his first Jedi lesson.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Hendrix," he greeted. He'd asked once if she was related to the late rock singer, but the "SOB"-laced earful he'd gotten from her was not something he wished to relive.
"Mr. Skywalker, you gotta do somethin' about those stormtroopers hangin' out in the stairwell!" she replied, tapping her foot imperiously. "They're givin' the other tenants the creeps!"
He calmly walked past her to the refrigerator, opened it, and removed two Vanilla Cokes. He was quite fond of Mrs. Hendrix, he supposed. She was an African-American single mother in her late 30s, with a big-boned but well-shaped body and quite handsome features. Steve had often remarked that she looked like Queen Latifah, but Anakin had never seen the actress and couldn't compare. Mrs. Hendrix was quite open and blunt when she spoke, never taking guff from her tenants. He liked that spunk.
"I've put up with a lot from you," she went on, slipping into one of her common spiels. "I can handle the foamin'-at-the-mouth geeks trompin' in here for autographs. I can handle your sackloads of fan mail. I can handle that son of yours and that rat-pack of geeks that follow you 'round. I can even handle the death threats every other week. But I'm not puttin' up your troops! We have a Constitutional Amendment against that, y'know!"
"I apologize, ma'am," he told her, unruffled. He handed her a soda. "But it was not my decision to bring them here."
"Honey, I don't care if you brought 'em here or the Man in the Moon did! At least put 'em outside where they won't get in the way!"
"I'll be sure to tell them." He opened his air intake vent and took a long draught. When he was finished he added "I can understand how my bodyguards frustrate you, but they will not be here long if I have anything to say about it. I don't particularly want them here myself."
She smiled, her mood lightening a bit. "Your son's gettin' overprotective of you again, huh?"
Anakin finished his drink and tossed the can in the trash. "At this rate, I'm going to have my own personal squadron of stealth troopers escorting my wheelchair around the nursing home."
She laughed. "Ah, don't be too insulted by it, honey. Least you know he cares about you."
He gave a gentle chuckle. "I've never given the boy reason to care about me, and yet he does. He may have my strength in the Force and independent streak, but he has his mother's heart."
She popped the tab on her drink and took a swig. "When's he gettin' back from wherever he is?"
"Two weeks, if all goes well. After that bombing at my daughter's wedding it was decided that he should stay away from Earth awhile. That might confuse his attacker and even draw them out."
"If he's the one bein' shot at, why do you have the bodyguards?"
"I must admit, that gap in logic astounds me, too."
"How'd you enjoy playing 'Daddy Daycare?'"
He gave an exaggerated groan and lowered himself into a chair, pretending to be decrepit. "They have far too much energy. I was finally able to get them to calm down by starting lessons, only to discover they're terrified of my mask. Patrick is enjoying all this, but Jason is about ready to borrow a tranquilizer gun from the Denver Zoo."
She laughed.
"I hope I convinced them that I wouldn't harm them," he went on. He cupped his chin in one hand. "It's this armor. It still labels me as Darth Vader. It will be a happy day when I am able to be rid of it once and for all."
"May the Force grant you patience, honey, 'cause you want it right now!" Mrs. Hendrix announced.
He burst into laughter.
"Aw, relax. The ban can't last forever. And a donor's bound to pop up sooner or later." She sat down next to him. "B'sides, once your sentence's up you're home free."
"Four years..." he mumbled, wishing he could sigh. Again he cursed the blasted mask.
Mrs. Hendrix picked up a garbage sack and plopped it on the table before him. "Your weekly load of fan mail. Want to borrow a shredder?"
"Nah. I like to read them." He opened the first one and admired the artwork, done by a six-year-old boy from Iowa. "Nice picture."
"What's it supposed to be?" she asked.
"Looks like my old TIE fighter. With me at the controls. This is going up on my refrigerator!" He stood to post it.
"One from New Mexico," she announced, ripping open another envelope. "'Dear Mr. Skywalker, I don't understand why you went with such a wimpy name as Anakin. I mean, come on, Ani? Sounds like the little red-head brat from Broadway. Darth Vader sounded at least halfway cool. Why not switch to Mordak or Slasher or something tough-sounding? Loved the movies, by the way. Signed, Tony Pollock.'"
Anakin gave her an incredulous look. "Mordak?"
"Do all these letters get written by weirdos?"
"Not all, but enough to make things interesting. Open the next one."
"As lovely as I remember it," Luke mused as he and his students trekked down Mos Eisley's main street.
"The wretched hive of scum and villainy, eh?" Gabriel quipped.
Tatooine's double suns had leeched color from every surface, so thanks to the light and dust most everything that had been outside for long was pretty much the same shade of gray-tan. There was, however, a vast variety of color and life in the garb of off-worlders, the faces of the eclectic mix of aliens that lived here, and the wares set up in a dozen outdoor shops. The buildings, vehicles, and even the natives seemed weathered and battered, bearing the scars from the battle to scratch out a living on this harsh world.
The center street was more crowded than ever, for a veritable exodus of refugees was streaming into town. Farmers, prospectors, naturalists, smugglers, even Jawas arrived on foot, in speeders, or atop dewbacks, rontos, eopies, and banthas. Many had fled with whatever they could throw together in five minutes; some only had the clothes on their backs. A few transported the gravely wounded.
"Looks bad, Master," Chyna said.
"I know," Luke replied.
Gabriel looked around gravely. "My grandpapa, he used to tell of living in Paris during World War II," he said. "When the Nazis were marching through France, people from all over fled to the city before it fell to the Germans. It was like this."
Korie roared. /What can we do to help them, Master?/ she sent through the Force.
"I'm not sure."
"You there!"
A Weequay strode briskly toward their group. Luke recognized him as the newly elected governor of Tatooine and bowed. "Hello, Governor Nitch."
"Master Jedi, I'm glad you've come," Nitch said gladly, shaking Luke's hand. "Please, come inside where it's cool." He ushered Luke and his students toward a building that Luke remembered well -- the cantina where he'd first met Han Solo and Chewbacca.
"I don't care to tangle with your local goonsssss my firssssst day here," Xna pointed out.
"Don't worry, this is a reputable establishment now," Nitch assured them. "New owner, new laws. We're working to civilize Tatooine."
"Too bad," Hekku rasped with a chirping chuckle. "A civilized Tatooine would lose much of its charm."
Luke didn't sense much change in the cantina's atmosphere. It was still a smoky, dim building with a hodgepodge of creatures within it. Most of said creatures still looked as questionable as ever, but then, owners usually had little control over their cliente. The place was cleaner, though, with a fresh coat of paint and upgraded systems and appliances. Fig'rin Dan and his band were still present, though the old bartender wasn't. In his place was a berobed, tan-skinned man with jet-black hair and an attitude that screamed "Earth man," even though the only outward sign of it was a gold crucifix hanging over his chest.
"Rounds for everyone here," Nitch told the bartender, gesturing to his companions.
"Will that be your usual, senor?" asked the barkeep, looking up. His dark eyes went wide when he saw the Jedi.
"Ay carumba! Senor Skywalker!" He reached across the counter to shake Luke's hand. "I'm Ricardo. I own this place. Bought it off the last guy. Pleased to meet you."
"Hello, Ricardo," Luke greeted. "With this influx of people, business must be booming."
Ricardo shook his head. "No, senor. Most of the poor souls out there haven't a peso on them. I've been donating food and drinks as often as I can, but I have a business to run." He shrugged apologetically.
"Your help has been immensely appreciated, Ricardo," Nitch told him. "We've been placing the refugees in camps just outside the city and placing guards from the Bestine Republic Army Base. Most of the food and other provisions we've been giving them has come from privately owned businesses in Tatooine's major towns. It might appear to be a lawless, uncivilized planet, but in a crisis we stick together."
"What do you know about the pirates that might be of use to us, Governor?" asked Hekku, swirling his drink around in its glass.
"Not much," Nitch replied. "They don't seem to have a definite purpose for their actions. As far as we can tell, they're just picking random targets to slap around. Some towns and settlements, like Anchorhead, have only suffered an occasional burglary. Others, like the geologist encampment at Beggar's Canyon, have been destroyed entirely. And from survivor reports, we've learned that they come in a variety of species and appear to be from a variety of worlds. The only thing they have in common is that they wear this symbol somewhere on their clothing, usually on the shoulder or arm." He produced a scrap of bright green flightsuit cloth and stretched it so the design was visible.
Luke studied the mark -- a blood-red silhouette of a winged dragon with a gold starburst on its breast. It wasn't the mark of any pirating guild he was familiar with. In fact, it looked almost like a royal seal or coat of arms, but he couldn't quite place it.
"Any of you make anything of this?" he asked.
Korie barked a few words. The translator on her shoulder spoke in a high feminine voice that seemed unnatural coming from the Wookie's direction: "It's the crest of the Imperial Family of the Kruvex system, Master Skywalker."
Luke frowned, not liking the sound of this. "You're sure?"
"I second her," Chyna replied. "I saw it in the files of the Jedi Archives back at the Academy."
"Kruvex?" Nitch repeated. "I've never heard of it."
"It was a sovereign system of the Old Republic," Luke told him. "Its natives, the Kruvexians, were a highly telepathic species, and many of them became Jedi. When the Empire came into power, it almost entirely wiped out the Kruvexian species due to their Force sensitivity. Now only a few hundred are left. Their homeworld is in shambles, but they're doing their best to reclaim and rebuild it."
Xna curled his tail tip under his chin in thought. "Ssssso why would one be attacking Tatooine? Even a vengeful one? Tatooine wasssss never exactly an Imperial ssssstronghold, after all. Wouldn't it make more sssssense for him or her to go after the Imperial Remnant?"
Luke agreed that it didn't make sense -- not just that Kruvex was behind the assault on Tatooine, but that they were attacking another planet at all. Kruvexians weren't exactly a pacifist species -- their volcanic homeworld had made them a tough race, and before the Military Creation Act they had maintained the largest non-mechanical army in the Republic. But conquest and vengeance hadn't been their way. Even the Kruvexian survivors he'd interviewed didn't seem bitter toward the Empire and were much more interested in repairing Kruvex than in laying claim to another, less damaged world.
"There are many questions to be answered," Luke said at last. "And I assure you that we will try to find answers. We'll work on contacting the pirate leader. Then we'll find their motivation and negotiate a truce, if possible. I'd like to leave fighting as a last resort, but we'll do that, if necessary, to defend Tatooine and put an end to the siege."
Ricardo jerked his head toward the back. "I got rooms for rent in the back. You and your amigos can stay for free, Master Skywalker."
Luke laughed. "Just credit the Republic for the charge. No use shorting anybody right now."
A loud crash awoke Hekku in the infant hours of the morning, and he kicked off his covers and grabbed his lightsaber. That sound had come from the inside of the cantina! He extended his awareness to encompass the entire establishment. Aside from the Jedi and Ricardo, who seemed to be in distress, he sensed four others. Intruders, he realized, with quite hostile intentions.
They were about to get their first glimpse of those behind Tatooine's problems.
He stepped into the hall, where Korie already waited, her deactivated lightsaber in her claws. Her silvery fur seemed to glow in the dim light of the hall.
"You hear them too?" whispered Hekku.
/Smell them/ Korie replied mentally, baring her fangs. /They reek of trouble. We'd better wake the others./
"Hey, girlfriend, we can handle this on our own," Hekku pointed out, grinning adventurously. "We've handled plenty of foes in larger groups than this."
/In the training room, yes/ she replied sternly. /But these aren't holograms or droids, Hekku. These are real. And they'll have no qualms about killing us./
Gabriel exited his room, barefoot and wearing only a white nightshirt. "Guests?" he asked, flicking out his weapon.
"Good, we have another partner," Hekku noted. "Let's go, you two."
"Not yet," Gabriel replied. "Call Master Skywalker, Korie."
"You two are no fun," snorted Hekku as Korie sent a ripple of alarm along the Force. Seconds later the others emerged, Xna bleary-eyed but clutching his lightsaber in his tail, Chyna in a cotton shift and a hastily pulled-on jacket, and Luke quickly fastening the sash on a robe.
"Nice of you to invite us instead of attempting to neutralize the threat yourselves," Luke noted. It was a compliment of sorts, thanking the students for not being impulsive or rash. Hekku looked away, knowing his attitude had gotten him in trouble before.
There was muffled shouting inside the cantina, then a solid thump as a blow was dealt.
"Please, senor, just take the money and leave!" shouted Ricardo.
"Maybe we wanna have a little fun 'fore we go," came a snarl.
At Luke's signal the six of them charged into the cantina, lightsabers hissing to life. Luke and Korie wielded green blades, while Chyna, Gabriel, and Xna carried blue weapons. Hekku's blade shimmered a queer red-gold color, having been crafted with a massif-eye stone from his native Geonosis.
In the multicolored light illuminating the room they could see Ricardo's attackers. A ragged, slimy-looking human and a bulky Trandoshan wearing a cinnamon-brown Wookie pelt over his shoulders were holding the bruised bartender's arms while a goateed, bare-chested Balosaur stood before him, arm drawn back for another blow. Standing nearby, watching the proceedings, was a being in copper-and-black Mandalorian armor, holding a sawed-off blaster rifle with which to finish off Ricardo when the others were done with him. All of them wore the Kruvexian crest on their shoulders, except the Balosaur, who had the symbol tattooed to his chest.
"Well, whaddaya know?" sneered the human. "Jedi just joined the party."
The Trandoshan snarled. "They should know not to force themselves into our affairs."
The Balosaur gave an obnoxious laugh. "Hey everyone, the lizard made a funny!"
Luke stepped forward. "You will surrender to us peacefully and leave this gentleman be, or we will subdue you by any means necessary."
The human glared contemptuously at Luke, then turned toward the Mandalorian. "Boss, whatcha think?"
The warrior was silent a moment, then put out an arm and gave a thumbs-down gesture.
"Sorry, no go," he told the Jedi. "We fight." He threw Ricardo into the Trandoshan's arms and reached for a blaster carbine at his belt.
Luke used his lightsaber to deflect the ensuing blaster shots while Gabriel gestures sharply to a long coil of flexible tubing being used to distill Kessel rock-whiskey. The tubing flew across the room, spraying liquid as it went, before wrapping itself securely around their attacker from shoulders to ankles. He tried to wriggle loose but only succeeded in toppling himself like a felled tree.
The Mandalorian brought the rifle to bear, aiming for Hekku. He sprang into the air, beating his wings for lift, to avoid the warrior's fire. Tatooine was a heavier-gravity planet than Geonosis, making true flight impossible for him, but he managed a gliding ark that brought his feet down on his foe's chest. The impact knocked the Mandalorian to the floor, and Hekku whirled his lightsaber behind him to slice the pirate's gun apart. Before his foe could react, Hekku drove the butt of his saber into the back of the mercenary's neck to bring on unconsciousness.
Meanwhile, Chyna and Korie took on the Trandoshan.
"A Wookie," the reptile snarled in pleasure. "Her pelt will make a fine addition to my collection." He threw the bartender aside and pulled a blaster on her, only to crumple to the ground as she blasted his mind with the Force. Being Force-blind, the pirate couldn't shield the attack and so was incapacitated, at least temporarily.
The Balosaur, meanwhile, leered at Chyna, holding a vibroblade. She kicked him where she figured she'd get the best results, and while he was doubled over in pain Xna flicked his body like a coachwhip to knock him off his feet.
Luke extinguished his lightsaber and motioned for his students to follow suit. "Well done all. Now secure them. We'll send them back to Corusant for trial. Except that one." He pointed at the Mandalorian. "We'll retain him for questioning."
"Gracias, gracias, gracias," babbled Ricardo, embracing Luke. "You saved my life! Whatever can I do to repay you?"
"For starters," replied Luke, "you can add the cost of all damages done to your establishment to our tab. Add a healthy tip for your own troubles, any medical bills you may have from this incident, and your excellent service to us."
He nodded, then went behind the counter to inspect the damage.
Luke knelt beside the Mandalorian and placed his hand atop the T-slit helmet. The pirate groaned and awoke.
"Jedi," their captive hissed in a voice that would have been quite dulcet had it not been hard with anger. "Why did it have to be Jedi?"
"Sacre bluer, a woman!" Gabriel exclaimed.
"Of course I'm a woman!" she snarled. "Do you think only men can be suitable warriors?"
"We have questions," Luke said, cutting off her tirade. "And we'd like answers."
She raised her chin haughtily. "Kill me now. The Mandalorian order -- what's left of it, anyway -- is bound by honor."
"Tell us who you are," Luke requested, waving his hand.
Her resolve dimmed a little, but her voice was as venomous as ever. "I'm a Mandalorian, one of the few left after the Jedi slaughtered us decades ago. Fair pay when YOUR kind got butchered by the Empire. Rest assured we shed no tears over them."
"What do the Mandalorians have to gain from attacking Tatooine?"
"We have nothing against this planet, wretched though it is," she snarled. "We're mercenaries, not idealists. We're being well-paid for our efforts here."
"And all of you have allied yourselves to the pirates' cause?"
"Not all. That damned Boba Fett's still off with that blasted wench of a wife of his, not that he ever gave his father's old comrades so much as a how-do-you-do. What a brat!"
Gabriel snorted in laughter. Chyna elbowed him in the ribs.
"What's your employers motivation?" Luke pressed.
She tried to resist the question but failed. "All I know is that Darth Vader murdered his... his..." Her breath petered out with a high wheeze, and in a panic she clutched her throat.
/She's choking!/ Korie reached for her helmet.
It was too late. With a gruesome snap the unknown entity that had attacked her finished its job. The Madalorian's corpse collapsed against Luke.
"The Force," muttered Luke, feeling for a pulse. "I knew it."
"At leasssst we know who'ssss behind thissssss," Xna pointed out. "A male Jedi who ssssurvived the Purge and wantssss vengeanccccce for a loved one."
"Gabriel," Luke ordered, "get on a comm and call the police to take the pirates and the coroner to get this woman's body. The rest of you stand watch and look for clues. I need to contact my father."