2: Down and Out of the Loop
Zaalbar groaned and whuffed softly at her as they walked the poorly lit corridor that led away from the Daystar. Lights flickered overhead, threatening to give up the ghost, and she only then realized he was talking to her.
"Hm? Is it that obvious?" she asked, a faint smile slipping across her lips. She had since changed into her customary black Slipsuit. It was a shiny black mono-piece that spacers once wore beneath clunky old exposure suits, long before artificial environment systems had made such necessities extinct. Pitfighters favored them because the Slipsuits were slick and, well, slippery. Damned near impossible to get a good grasp on someone wearing a Slipsuit. And Lal favored them for exactly the same reason. It hugged her body as close as a second skin, and she didn't mind that so much either. In a fight, her curves made fools of men. And foolish men so often became dead men if she had a say in it. Smoke and mirrors. That what she was. Outside of the club, she wore her blasters openly, mounted in a twinned rig on a belt slung low across her hips.
Zaalbar lumbered beside her, his feet pounding the aged deck plates rusting away beneath them. As was his custom, the Wookie favored no clothing over his thick coat of brown and black fur. He wore only a shoulder harness studded with pockets stuffed with tools and hidden weapons. As they continued to walk, he waited for a response to his observation. Not many people on Taris could make any sense of a Wookie's grunts and warbling growls. But Lal understood him as easily as she understood Basic.
Still, she didn't respond. She felt his clear-eyed scrutiny, and knew that she couldn't ever hide her feelings from him. He was too bloody astute. Wookies were far more keen-witted than anyone—including Lal, initially—gave them credit for. She failed to understand, of course, why saving his life had meant he'd constantly be attending to her state of mind. She'd come to understand that he had little stomach for the sort of life she led. He was, at times, more trouble than he was worth. And his breath really stank.
"If you must know," she finally sighed in exasperation, "I'm tired. Tired of being--"
He interrupted with a snarling chuckle, his primal grunts chopping out a phrase that made her eyes bulge and which set her teeth in a grim, tight line.
"I was not going to say, 'piece of meat', Carpet…" reflexively, she thought back to poor Mission. Like the other slave joygirls, she was probably being whisked away back to one of Davik's hostels, to sleep in chains while she awaited a new day of being nothing more than a pretty piece of meat. "Maybe you would be best served minding your business and letting me attend to mine."
That ended the conversation efficiently enough. But Lal had the sense from his knowing expression that her outburst had communicated exactly what she had intended to hide. Damned Wookie.
Silently, they turned onto the broad avenue known as the Loop. Like most of the "streets" in Lower Taris, the Loop was just another tunnel. But it was broad enough to drive four heavy Speeders side by side down the length of it. Shops and kiosks, all closed now, studded the Loop, which ran in a lazy circle around the old habitat warrens of the Lower City. At a decent hour, a person could catch a ride in a droid-pulled cart, or maybe hail a railcar operated by independent hawkers who would as soon slit your throat as give you a ride. But there was less money in slitting throats. Well, usually.
It was even past the hour when street-filthy hookers prowled the shallow alcoves looking to sell some of their flesh. Clusters of homeless tunnel drovers huddled over makeshift pit-fires, warming their hands in the sweating chill of the underground. Above them, there was the constant and distant hum of SpeederRails, running all night long in the glittering UpCity.
Davik's little conversation had kept her longer than she preferred. She hated walking the Loop this late. But at least she had a seven foot tall Wookie beside her. His size alone was usually sufficient to discourage all but the most persistent of annoyances.
Usually.
She almost didn't notice the cold tickle along her spine.; her mind was so filled with Davik's words. But when Zaalbar's wet nose twitched at a captured scent, Lal's body took charge and pushed the massive Wookie to the side. She used his mass to push herself in the opposite direction as a blaster bolt sizzled through the air between them.
Lal went to the ground on her shoulder and rolled, coming up in a crouch, with both blasters flashing into her hands. Instinct guided her aim and she snapped off a flood of shots. The blasters hammered in her palms, spitting bursts of coherent energy into a dense mass of shadows at the mouth of a side tunnel. She heard a gasp and a Rodian body tumbled out of the shadows onto the deck. A human stepped from the shadows and continued firing at her. But she was already on the move, launching from her crouch and rolling again. Once more she came up into a crouch and fired, her brace of shots going wide.
Another volley of fire lanced at her from behind , pressing her and Zaalbar pressed against a wall. "Crossfire," she grunted at him. He nodded and moaned sharply as they both realized they had stumbled into a trap. Glancing to see the second shooter, several meters up the Loop, she noticed the familiar black and red sash of the Black Vulkars.
"Damn," she hissed, and Zaalbar snarled a curse of his own. He drew a snap-baton from one of his cargo pouches and flicked it open in one massive paw. The end of the baton crackled with electricity as it hissed through the air.
"Hey, Lal!" a voice called out. One she recognized. Savin Noo. He had been one of Davik's soldiers when Lal was still a rookie. Now, he ran with the Vulkars. Davik just wasn't bloody enough for him. "You know we got you. Dead to rights, baby. You put down the heaters and we'll have us a chat, eh?"
Zaalbar howled out a sharp curse, telling Savin exactly where he could stuff his chat. Lal examined her options. She had ducked and dodged before, but was caught in the open. They could burn her down at any moment. There was only one reason they hadn't done so; they wanted to play.
"This is a dumb move, Savin," Lal called out as he stepped out into view with two other Vulkars beside him. "Davik's gonna cut you done for this."
"Davik ain't here," Savin observed. He grinned at her, leering, a sneer wrenching his features. "You shouldn't oughtta messed with the Vulkars, Lal. We own LowCity. You don't make clowns of the Vulkars without some payback. And I think I know how to collect."
"Well, at least you're up to full sentences now, Savin," Lal tossed back. "I remember a time when a grunt and a fart was about as prolific as you could manage. Soon you'll be up to multiple syllables. Pretty ambitious for scum like you."
Fury twisted his features in a knot. "Y'know, killing you would be too easy and not enough fun. I'm gonna carve my name onto your--"
Blaster fire sang out with a sharp staccato hiss, and Savin whirled around. Lal took the opportunity and tossed a few spears of energy into his back. Energy bolts sizzled past her hair as she dropped low and kept firing.
The Vulkar in the tunnel behind her cut his losses and turned tail. Savin and his pals got themselves chewed into smoking piles of refuse, however. They had enough time to squeal a few curses; Savin lived just long enough to hiss out a wet death rattle from his throat. When the blaster fire died down, Lal saw a figure emerge from the smoke rising off of Savin's body. The man from the club.
"Streets are pretty lively at night," the man chuckled. "Maybe you ought to put that into your travel brochures…"
Lal flipped her guns up, aimed at his head and his chest. Zaalbar simply howled.
"Whoa," the human said, holding his pair of blasters up and away from her. "I'm not here to fight you."
"I'm supposed to care?"
The man paused with a frown; he didn't seem prepared for that reply. "Alright, now look, I just wanna talk with you."
"Seems like you are talking."
Again, he was a bit thrown off. His dark eyes glanced at her twin guns and he shrugged. "You mind pointing those things somewhere else, maybe? I did just save your life. Listen…my name's Carth. Carth Onasi. I just wanna talk to you."
"Who do you work for, Carth Onasi?"
"I…I don't work for anybody."
Zaalbar grunted his distrust of the man, and for once, Lal totally agreed with the Wookie. "Mmm-hmm. You were in the Daystar earlier. Now, here you are. The way I look at it, that's either one of two possibilities: A coincidence…or you're looking to get a date with me. Problem with the first scenario is…I don't believe in coincidences. As such, that makes you a hitter. Maybe you're working for the Hutts. Problem with the second scenario is…I don't do dates. And one thing I certainly don't do is talk."
"Er…right…well…you sure say a lot for a lady who doesn't 'talk.'"
"Shut up, Carth Onasi. Carpet, take his guns."
Zaalbar growled at her indignantly at the same time that Carth flicked his blasters back in line with her. "Whoa!" he cried out. "Nobody touches my blasters."
Lal's blood began to chill in her veins. Her eyes narrowed at the handsome rogue standing across from her, with his blasters leveled at her. Zaalbar stood off to the side, glancing back and forth between the two.
"Listen, lady," Carth began soothingly, "I'm sure neither of us wants to do this. Like I said, I just need to talk to you. But the Wookie's not touching my weapons. How about we both hang our heaters up, and--"
"You first, handsome."
He rolled his eyes, but nodded. Slowly, he lowered his weapons and holstered them at his hips. She waited several moments, and put her guns away as well. "Okay," she sighed. "You want to talk. What do want to talk about, Carth Onasi? The weather? Arena stats? Politics?"
He opened his mouth to speak, but then glanced around and paused. "You think maybe we could…I don't know…find a place a little less exposed, here? Those thugs are probably gonna return with reinforcements…"
As he spoke, Lal noticed the dark bloom of a recent bruise above his left eye. And the surplus fatigues he wore could not be purchased anywhere on-planet. When she had seen him earlier, she had made a wild guess he was military. Now, with Davik clamoring about the Sith coming to town, Lal was almost certain.
"Alright, Carth Onasi. I was on my way to pick up something to eat. You can buy me and the Carpet, here, a late dinner."
The Wookie roared at her and she cringed.
"Alright!" she roared back. "His name is Zaalbar. I just call him 'Carpet' because he lays about."
The corner of Carth's mouth twitched up in a crooked grin. Oh, he was definitely a rogue, Lal decided. Even if he was a soldier.
"Dinner, huh?" Carth chuckled, "sounds like a date to me…" Lal whirled on him, and snapped open her mouth to chew out a reply, but Carth immediately turned to Zaalbar and went on: "Zaalbar, huh? Pleased to meet you."
As they all fell in step, Zaalbar growled out a warning to Carth about pissing Lal off. Carth obviously understood Shryiiwook, because he nodded and gave an innocent shrug. "Just making conversation is all…"
Lal decided not to rise to the bait and simply fell silent. But as they left the Loop, she felt another tingle drip down her spine. She gave a quick glance over her shoulder into the deserted Loop, but saw no one there.
Calo Nord crouched over one of the bodies and chuckled in bemused disgust. He adjusted his multi-optic goggles to cycle from low-light to IR and rifled through the dead Rodian's pockets. These idiot Vulkars were pathetic scum. He'd be doing the galaxy a favor if he simply walked into their base and burned each of them down. Of course, Calo Nord wasn't the type of man to do anyone a favor. He wasn't the highest paid bounty man this side of Ord Mantell because he did favors.
He glanced up to watch the retreating trio, and realized Lal Sideen had stopped and was peering curiously back into the shadows of the alley where he knelt over the dead Rodian. Could she see him? Not possible. The overcoat he wore had circuitry that randomized colors and broke up his shape at a distance; to anyone not wearing a set of optics like his own, he'd easily blend in with the shadows.
Still…Sideen was an odd bird. Damned easy on the eyes, sure. But that made her even more deadly. Lal Sideen was built like a joygirl, but she had the pedigree of a dyed in the wool killer. Rumor had it Davik had been using her to cancel his rivals and competition long before Nord had come to Taris.
Nord didn't put much faith in rumors. Especially the rumors tossed back and forth by Davik's particular brand of halfwit thug. A largely incompetent lot. But there was something about Sideen. She didn't move or carry herself like a professional; no. Of that much he was certain. She moved more like…like some sort of predatory animal. A big graceful hunter that ruled the night; like the sable coated sabercats native to the world where he'd spent a bitter childhood. In the nights, laying on his belly to let the lashes on his back heal, he would squeeze his eyes tightly shut and listen to their deep growls as they prowled the woods. Once, he had seen one make a kill; the Yondari sabercat was a toil of steely muscles and casual easy grace. Every step it made had been delicately choreographed millions of years past. It was a regal beast; majestic. Lal Sideen walked with that same majesty. And everything that fell beneath her gaze was prey. She operated from the same program of instincts as those wondrously lethal felines.
Maybe his imagination was working on him. The mere sight of her distracted him. Sideen had that affect on males. And that troubled Calo Nord. In the past, he'd always been able to push aside his desires to do the job. He saw women as little more than brief diversions for his pleasure, but even so, that didn't keep him from burning a pretty little thing down if the price was right. He was too good at his job for that nonsense.
But here he was going and letting himself get all fascinated with Lal Sideen. Damn that woman! What was it about her, anyway? Hmm. Maybe the legs. Nord had always been a leg-man, after all.
"Oh, we'll find out what makes you so special, sweetheart," Nord whispered in his wintery rasp. His eyes narrowed behind his goggles as she shrugged and joined her pals. "I promise you that…"
"Talking to yourself, Calo?" a rough voice scraped against him. Nord whirled in surprise to see a powerful figure clad entirely in Mandalorian Armor leaning casually against the wall behind him. Nord's gun whipped up instinctively, but the armored figure went on. "They say that talking to oneself is a sure sign of madness. Like a mad Kath Hound. Got to put 'em down."
"Canderous," Nord hissed, rising to his feet and stowing his blaster. He nodded towards the helmet the man wore and said, "what's with the facemask? You on a hunt?"
Canderous Ordo reached up behind his helmet and pressed a hidden tab. The helmet split apart into a series of panels, which all slid into the collar of his armor. His scarred leathery face creased in an ugly smile. "In a manner of speaking," he replied. His voice grated like steel over stone.
"Ah. And here, I thought you were washed—I mean…heh…retired. Heh."
Canderous simply shook his head. "It never grows old for you does it, Calo? You couldn't feel alive without brushing up against the next dog, vying for space. Could you?"
"Competition defines order and efficiency, old man. It's the way of the universe."
"No Calo, it actually isn't. You've got to be able to learn from the fight. And that's something kath hounds can't do. That's why they can't be domesticated for long. Only the…pups."
Nord bristled at the insult. If it had been anyone other than Canderous Ordo, Nord would be staring at a smoking corpse. And still, if Canderous Ordo had not been Davik's top man…
"Well, Canderous, as the old dogs eventually learn…things change."
Canderous chuckled. "I like you, Calo. You're my kind of scum. But a word to the wise. Lal Sideen? She may look soft and lush, like a rainforest swathed in morning sunlight and dew. But that forest is a dangerous and cruel place to find yourself. Respect it, and maybe you'll survive the experience. Disrespect it at your peril."
Nord eased back and bit and sighed. "You're just full of colorful metaphors, aren't you? How poetic. Obviously you've bought into this idiotic myth surrounding the girl. She's just a piece of fluff, Canderous. And you? Well, your age is showing. Old man. I've got business."
"I know about your 'business' Calo."
Nord paused for a moment, glaring darkly up at the towering Mandalorian. "Then you know to stay out of my way."
"Lala Sideeni Nooda Chuuda!" Lien Lumb cried out as Lal approached the Sullustan's noodle kiosk. The ancient Sullustan chattered happily at her in his high speed patois, utterly mangling the Huttese trade language most of the aliens on Taris spoke. Lal had a good ear for languages, but could only ever pick up one word in three when Lien Lumb was going at full speed.
But he made her smile with the way he jabbered at his five sons, all stuffed into the kitchen area behind the kiosk. She slid up onto a battered stool and leaned over the top of the food bar. Zaalbar stood beside her, cocking his head curiously at the Sullustan's chatter. Zaalbar sighed and shook his head and merely pointed to the numbered menu above Lien Lumb's bald pate. He picked platter numbers three, twelve, seventeen and two number sixes.
"Ay ayh!" Lien cried out in shock. And then he began firing off orders to his sons. The food sizzled loudly behind him and Lal chuckled her agreement.
"Yeah, he rather does have a belly like a black hole. And it eats at my credit account too…" Lal sighed and glanced behind her at Carth. He was standing there looking like a lost puppy, staring incomprehensibly at the menu. Though Lien Lumb spoke in Huttese, the menu was entirely in his native Sullustan. Lal often forgot that very few humans ever bothered to learn to read anything other than Basic. "Seafood and noodles, Mr. Onasi. Try the shellfish Lan Oodah."
"Ah…there's…there's no ocean on Taris…"
"Heavens. Listen, Lien gets all of his stuff from a Quarren harvester operation that ships daily to like…fifteen planets in this sector. It's good." Lal patted the seat beside her. "Sit, Onasi. I'm hungry."
He swallowed his doubt and climbed onto the stool at her side. "What'd you call it? 'Lan Noodah?'"
"'Lan oodah!'" Lien corrected him. "'oodah!' Oodah! Goom Yumma yumma yumma," he went on, switching to Sullustan briefly. "Nan chuuda Lala Sideeni, neh?"
Lal opened her mouth in pretended shock. "You old flirt. I'm going to tell your wife if you keep that up."
Zaalbar grunted sardonically, and Lien released a belly-borne laugh. Lal smiled despite her mood and turned to explain to a clueless Carth. "Lien has fifteen wives. Zaalbar just said…"
Carth nodded and waved his hand, "Yeah, I picked that up. 'which one.' This place…"
Lal watched him as Zaalbar got the first of his platters and began digging in. It was simply good policy to let the Wookie eat first. Her food was on the grill already. "What about 'this place?'" she nudged.
Carth glanced around and shrugged. "I've been up one side of the Rim and down the other, Ms. Sideen. It's rare to see a planet where aliens are…segregated so openly as they are here. For all the beauty of Upper Taris, this is a backwards planet."
"Well, admittedly, it doesn't get high marks on Republic tourist brochures. But nobody ever said the galaxy was a fair place."
Carth nodded and stared distantly, his eyes boring past the kiosk to some faraway sight. "No. Not fair at all…"
Lal continued to study him, even as Lien pushed a plate in front of her. "Well, Carth Onasi. I'm trying to figure you out. You don't look like a Sith. So…what's a Republic soldier doing on a decidedly non-republic backwater?"
"I never said I was a soldier."
"And I never said I was stupid."
He frowned at her for a moment, but finally nodded. "Alright. Guilty as charged. Very perceptive."
"I get that a lot. So you planning on answering my question?"
"Hold on. I'm the one who wanted to talk to you. Remember?"
Lal dug into her noodles and poured a liberal dose of meelee green sauce on as she ate. The green meelee leaf, when ground up, was one of the most volatile substances known. She was certain that it could be used as a natural explosive. But on Sullustan food, it was utterly exquisite. For most non-Sullustans who tried it, meelee granted them the ability to breath flames. Well, almost. Lal had an iron stomach, though. And the hotter the better, as far as she was concerned.
"Listen to me, Carth Onasi. I don't really care much who you are or what you want. You see this place here? This is mine. The people who operate their businesses here…they're almost all aliens, but they do so in peace because of the security I provide. They know me. They like me. If I put out a single word, you'd be dead inside of a day. Understand? So when you want to play games with Lal Sideen, you follow her rules. Or you walk."
"Security you provide, huh? Where was that security when you were pinned down by blaster fire an hour ago, huh? I think I had a little something to do with the fact that you're still breathing."
"And you have my gratitude. I didn't kill you out of hand, did I?"
"Oh, I get it. No good deed goes unpunished. Is that right?"
Lal sighed. "That's correct. Because in LowCity, there is no such thing as a good deed. Now, you obviously know who I am. But I still don't know you. This is me trusting you. I'm sitting here, chatting amicably with you. See? Trusting. I'm eating with you. Trusting, haven't killed you yet. Still trusting."
"All right, all right. I swear…" Carth shook his head and reached for the meelee sauce when his food arrived. "Is this stuff hot?"
"Define 'hot.'"
He groaned and shook his head again. "Nevermind. If you can handle it…"
She chuckled softly and watched as he downed his first mouthful. She saw his eyes water as the sauce hit his tongue. He gulped and reached for a glass of water. Lal stopped him. "Water only increases the heat, I'm afraid."
"Oh…it's n-not h-hot…I…just had something c-caught in my…throat…is all…"
"Of course," she smiled. Lien and Zaalbar both howled in laughter.
She felt a brief moment of sympathy for Carth and patted his back. Carth recovered after a moment or two and fanned his mouth. "Oh yeah. That's the good stuff. You, uh…eat this stuff on a regular basis?"
"Every chance I get. I like it hot." She realized what she said about a second after it slipped out of her mouth. Carth coughed loudly and Zaalbar arched a fuzzy eyebrow. "I mean…"
"I'm sure you do, "Carth rasped. "You know where I could get a good deal on a cyber-stomach replacement? I think my intestines are melting over here…"
Lal found herself grinning. It was very hard to dislike this soldier, she decided. She ordered two Tarisian ales and patted his knee. "Drink some of this. It cuts the heat."
He snatched up the mug provided and drained half of it in a matter of seconds. After he downed it, he breathed a bit easier and nodded his thanks to her. "Hey…that's actually pretty good…"
"Yeah. I think it brings out the flavor of the sauce. Feel better?"
"Uh…much. Yeah." He wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin and pushed his plate away. "Alright. As I said, my name's Carth Onasi. I'm a republic soldier. I was part of a survey mission, scouting out hyperspace routes that the Sith didn't know about or routinely use. We ran afoul of a Sith Interdictor a few systems away. They yanked us out of Hyperspace, but we held our own long enough to get the mains back up. But they didn't let up on us. Rather than lead them back to one of our bases, we chose the Taris system. Of course, the Sith being who and what they are, smelled blood in the water. When we made the jump into normal space, they were right behind us with damn near an entire battle element. She pulverized our ship, the Endar Spire. We were forced to abandon her.
"The bastards starting shooting the escape pods out of the sky. It was…a massacre. I don't know if any of the other pods survived, but there was another soldier on my pod. A…woman. She, uh…was injured during the fight on the Spire…Our pod hit in…well, it looked like the lower part of the city." He pointed to the bruise over his eye. "I took a bump on the landing. Nothing serious, though. Listen, thing of it is; as soon as we crashed, there were…I don't know, raiders. A lot of them. They were wearing the same colors as those guys we killed earlier. I tried to stay and fight, but they had me outnumbered. I had to get away. I had to…to leave my friend behind…So…after I found a place to lay low, I began asking around. I was directed to you. I was told you could help me find her."
"If she's still alive."
He thought about it for a moment. "If she's…still alive."
"Who sent you to me?"
"Twi'lek woman. I needed parts for my droid. She had a shop apparently. I think her name was…ah…Janice. Yeah. Janice Nal. She told me to go to the Daystar and ask for Lal Sideen."
Lal nodded, sipping at her ale. "Okay. Do you know what it is that I do, Carth?"
"I…have an idea. You're a gangster. You work for some big muckety-muck called Davik. As I understand it, he's a member of the Exchange. Took control of Taris's syndicated operations from the Hutts. They'd put a death sentence on him if they didn't mind starting a war with the Exchange. Or so I hear."
"I'm impressed. You hear very well, apparently. But not well enough. Didn't I tell you I wasn't stupid?"
"Huh? Yeah…I--"
Lal held up a hand and glared at him. "Allow me to reiterate. I am not stupid. Do not treat me as such. Are we clear?"
"I…I'm sorry. I'm not following…did I offend you somehow…?"
"No. You simply lied to me is all. You are not part of a survey mission. The Sith don't park a fleet over our heads and land a 'Diplomatic Contingent' just because of a survey mission. And I don't believe in coincidences, remember?"
"I can't help what you believe or don't…a fleet you say?"
"From what I've heard of the Sith," Lal went on, "they don't do anything randomly. They are very…focused. A mere survey mission isn't important enough for them to do this. And I find it hard to believe that they'd just…out of the blue…decide to come to Taris."
Carth's brow creased in concern and he massaged his jaw thoughtfully. "You're sure of this?"
"It's fact, Onasi. They're looking for someone. And I think they're looking for you and your girlfriend. You feel like revising your story? Go ahead. Take your time."
Carth stared over at her, his dark eyes searching hers. "I…no. I can't. I mean…obviously, you're right…damn it…of course, it was just a matter of time…Alright. The truth is, I can't tell you about the mission. Sorry, but I'm not gonna betray the Republic to a…a…criminal I hardly trust."
"Fair enough," she smiled. "Of course, I have no reason to help you."
He scowled darkly at her. "What about owing me your life? Isn't that enough? I don't care how important or tough you are, those guys back there were gonna have a party with you! And it wasn't gonna be pretty. And maybe they would have killed you when they were done! If you were lucky! You…you owe me. It's as simple as that."
"In a perfect world, you'd be absolutely right. But this is Taris. We're about a quarter million light years from perfect. How do I know you didn't set up a deal with those Vulkars to ambush me?"
He gasped incredulously. "Well, maybe because I shot them! Why would I shoot my own allies?"
"I can think of a number of reasons" she told him calmly, fixing him with a cool glare. "It makes sense to sacrifice an asset to get something you want. People do it all the time. It's called capitalism."
"I—you…you're a real piece of work, lady. I guess that's business as usual for you, but not for me. Besides, that's just absurd. I nearly got killed too, if you didn't notice! Even if I was as ruthless as you apparently are, that would just be stupid!"
"I don't make assumptions at the intellect of my opponents. I don't make assumptions at all. That's why I'm still alive."
He pushed up from the stool and chuckled bitterly. "Well, that's just great. You know what, never mind. You're just as much scum as those guys we killed earlier. I don't need your brand of help, anyway. Too expensive."
Lal exploded from her seat and jabbed a finger in his direction. "You listen to me, you mouth-breathing, nerf-stinking, broken down son of a--"
"Oh yeah, tell me how you really feel, babe. Go ahead."
"Oh, I intend to, flyboy! Don't interrupt me!"
"Oh, I'll interrupt you, babe."
"And don't call me 'babe!'"
"Sorry. How's 'sweetcakes?' is that better?"
Lal's logic disintegrated in a cloud of red fury and a blaster leaped into her hand. In slow motion, she saw Carth reaching for his own blaster, but she was much quicker. Surprise bloomed upon his face as she pressed to cold muzzle of her weapon up under his throat.
"Give. Me. A. Reason."
Carth could only stare at her helplessly. "Go ahead. Do it. Kill me in cold blood. That's what you're all about, right?"
"You have no idea," she snarled, feeling her lips peel back like an animal baring its fangs.
And, as swiftly as the rage swam over her, its hot shadow passed, leaving her feeling cold and empty. She glared into Carth's eyes and tried to muster up the anger from a few seconds ago. But it was gone. She didn't want to kill him. She didn't even think he was trying to angle her into a trap. She looked into his eyes and knew he would never harm her. Never betray her.
And maybe that was what had made her so angry in the first place.
Furious at herself, she lowered her blaster. She turned away from him, and, avoiding Zaalbar's intense stare, she sat down again. She began picking through her food listlessly.
"Alright," Carth sighed, taking a deep and nervous swallow. "I'm out of here. It's been fun, lady. Enjoy your screwed up life."
"The Black Vulkars," she said weakly, her voice breaking.
"Black whatsis?"
"Vulkars!" she said, a bit sharply. "Black Vulkars. They're a gang in LowCity. The idiots who attacked me. Same people who got your ladyfriend by the sound of it. If she's still alive."
"Okay…"
"For all the good it will do you. Or her. If she's alive, she'll be wishing she wasn't. The Vulkars are slavers. Women aren't…we don't do well in LowCity."
"Well…you seem to have done well…"
She whirled on him savagely, but managed to get her anger under control before it flared up again. "I…do not speak on matters of which you know nothing."
"Listen, lady--"
"No," she said calmly, "you listen. The Vulkars are more than a bunch of thugs. They are organized. They have…ambitions. They work with the Hutts…at least, that's what we've been hearing. They don't have much in the way of juice, but they do have numbers. And a surprising thirst for bloodshed. Your friend is going to be a joygirl. If she's pretty. If she's beautiful, they're going to use her long before they sell her. And she's still going to end up as a joygirl. If she's alive, Carth, she probably already wishes she was dead. I'm…I'm sorry to say this to you…but it's how Taris works."
Carth sighed heavily and sat down beside her again. "You, uh…you sound like you've got first hand knowledge about this."
"I…I suppose I do. But not in the way you mean. Women are an industry on Taris. No matter what you do, no matter how you do it, you become a commodity on the virtue of your sex."
"Lal…there are other ways. Other ways to get by. To get ahead, even."
"Of course," she said bitterly. "And is this how the Republic recruits soldiers?"
"No. Not exactly. But just because this is how things are done on Taris doesn't mean it's right. Or that it's the only way. That's just stupid. And like you said…you're not stupid."
Lal turned and stared deeply into his eyes. Again, she was submerged in the sea of his honesty, his openness. His…his effortless nobility. He had no thoughts of betrayal. Of hurting her.
"Listen, Lal…I need your help. I'm…I'm willing to pay--"
She chuckled and shook her head. "I tend to doubt it. You can't even afford clean clothes, Carth Onasi. But even if you could, I don't think I could help you. I don't even think I should. You're trouble. You might not mean to, but you're a walking death sentence, Carth. I briefly considered using you. Selling you out to the Sith so they'd cut our business operations some slack. But I'm thinking they'd just kill me as well. You're too hot."
Carth smiled, and his eyes glinted roguishly. "I've gotten out of worse scrapes."
"I…doubt it. Your government's fight against these Sith is going to get you cancelled, I think."
"Maybe tomorrow, but not today. Listen…I can't tell you about my mission…but I can tell you this: you're right. If you turned me over to the Sith, they would kill you. For wasting their time. They don't care about me. I'm just a cog on a wheel as far as they're concerned."
"And your companion?"
"Well…I won't lie…she's more important than I am…but neither of us are who the Sith are interested in. I can't tell you anymore than that."
"And I don't want to know," she told him earnestly. "Carth, I'm going to give you some advice. Do you mind?"
He grinned at her and said, "My mama told me to never say 'no' to a beautiful woman…who happens to be quicker on the draw with a blaster…"
"Get off this planet before it's too late. You stick out like a sore thumb. You can't help your friend."
He thought about it and took a sip of his Tarisian ale. "I'm afraid, for me, it's not that simple. See, when I was coming up in the Service, we were taught to never leave a man behind. I don't do it. So…I'm gonna save her. Or die trying. All I'm asking for is a little help."
"I…" her mouth snapped shut as a random thought crossed her mind. She snatched a hold of it and examined it a bit more closely. "Actually…I might be able to help you after all. Or at least…point you in the right direction."
"Sounds good to me…"
"Cool your jets, flyboy. I'll need to arrange an introduction. And I won't be able to do that until tomorrow night. After that, you're on your own."
He mulled it over for a moment and nodded once. "Okay. How do I get in touch with you? Should I just meet you at the Daystar tomorrow night?"
"No. That's too risky. Besides which, I've got some other business to attend to. Go to Javyar's Cantina. It's right off the Loop, Southern Bloc. I'll send someone round to collect you. Try to…blend. Or…something."
He glanced down at his clothes and frowned up at her. "What's wrong with…what's wrong with the way I look? I don't…I look fine…"
"You look scruffy," she grinned, patting him on the shoulder as she rose from her stool. That wouldn't be such a problem, but you look like a scruffy off-worlder. Shave. And find some local style. Now, I have to go and get some sleep."
"Ah…sweet dreams, then."
She glanced back at him over her shoulder and chuckled bitterly. "Don't hold your breath, flyboy. Come on, Carpet."
Admiral Saul Karath clasped his gloved hands behind his back and gazed out the forward screens into the vast luminous black of space. Hanging just above the lower edge of the screen, there floated the steely blue globe of Taris. Karath's eyes narrowed into black slits as he stared down at the world. From this altitude, he could trace the forgotten vaguery of continents now merged together beneath the urban sheet of a single, planet wide city. The sun was just rising over the curve of the planet, spraying the surface with a sheen of silvery chrome.
"Admiral, coming into geosynchronous orbit in ten minutes, sir," one of the officers behind him announced.
Karath glanced over his shoulder and nodded. Behind him, in the Operations Pit of the bridge, his officers sat in acceleration couches behind control cradles, monitoring the systems of the Leviathan. Darkness reigned on the dimly lit bridge of the Sith flagship. Karath reckoned it was appropriate. Light did not belong here. It died here. He had seen it die. And beyond the constant thrum of the massive vessel's engines rumbling up through the deck plates, silence embraced the darkness.
"Mr. Yand, do be so kind as to inform General Onna of our orbital status. Spin up launch bays seven, eight and nine. Tell Commander Lain that I want Viper Squadron flying escort for the troop carriers."
"Yes Admiral."
"How long before the rest of the fleet is in position?"
"E.T.A. on the Cestus and the Gladius, thirty-five minutes standard, Admiral."
Karath nodded and turned. He was prepared to give another order, but all of his muscles froze solid. The temperature dropped sharply as the main doors hissed open. Karath's spine stiffened reflexively, and despite the cold he felt, he began to sweat.
Darth Malak, Lord of the Sith entered the bridge in a storm of cold and quiet fury. He stalked inward with silent, prowling steps, a massive predator stepping into the shadowed chamber. Malak had once been a Jedi, he had once been a hero. Now, he was a figure of primal power, and of mystery. Even his cruel face was hidden behind a respiratory mask that hissed with each word he spat forth; that turned his voice into a winter gale.
Karath had once fought in Malak's forces, when the Jedi and his former master, Revan, had led the fight against the Mandalorian threat five years ago. Malak and Revan had saved the galaxy, even as the rest of the Jedi Order stood by, secure in their own moral high ground. But afterwards, when victory had been theirs, Malak and Revan had disappeared beyond the Outer Rim. No one alive knew what they found out there, but when they returned, they were…changed.
Saul Karath could not understand the change; he did not even try. But he had his own changes to confront. Maybe once he had dreamed of being a hero. Of saving lives. He didn't know when that dream had died. But such things were no longer important to him.
It was important only that he follow Malak's order without pause. Without fail.
Darth Malak strode in a swirl of crimson to take Karath's customary place at the head of the bridge. There, he folded his arms across his broad chest and glared down at the planet. Karath stood off to the side, waiting patiently as Malak's rasping breaths counted the moments.
"Yesss," Malak hissed. "I feel you…You were unwise to leave your place of safety. Most unwise…Admiral Karath…I believe we will bypass diplomatic relations with the Tarisian government. I want troops landed at strategic points within the city center. All traffic up the gravity well will be restricted."
"My Lord…"
Malak whirled on Karath and paralyzed him with his pale blue eyes. Karath fell silent and felt his bones turn to liquid beneath the pressure of those cruel eyes. "Admiral, you will mobilize Colonel Nassat's Razor Ops teams. I want them searching for her."
Karath's eyes flicked back and forth, and his mouth forgot how to work momentarily. "Yes, my--"
"Admiral," Malak cut in, "it is imperative that we discover the reason these Republic scum have come to this insipid backwater. The Jedi Council would not risk Bastila frivolously."
"My Lord…? I'm afraid I don't--"
"Don't understand, Admiral? Understanding is not required. Compliance is."
"I…of course, Lord Malak. I obey. I believe the planetary officials will be most helpful in our…endeavors…"
Malak again turned those frozen eyes upon Karath. Karath took the hint and nodded curtly. "I…I will see to it, My Lord."
