Collusions

Chapter Two: Dubiety

Maintenance Officer Arten Talran was good at his job. That was why, out of all the maintenance workers on the Peragus Mining Facility, he was the only one who was given his own working station, in the lower levels of the facility. And that was why, as the best mechanic available, he was assigned the most difficult tasks.

Which was why he was at his station, early in the morning, while all the other officers were asleep, staring at the T3 unit that had been unceremoniously deposited in front of his door the night before.

Talran sighed and picked up a hydrospanner, adroitly plugging the droid into the power supply. Time to get to work, he thought tiredly.

His first thought was that the droid's chassis had seen better days. It was still a relatively new droid, about nine or ten years old at the most. Talran made a mental note of that, then continued to explore. There was something odd about the memory banks… but Tarel ignored it for the moment, continuing to check the circuitry and wiring. He ticked off points on his mental checklist, paying more attention to the whirring of the fans over his head then the droid at his fingertips.

This was nothing new, this was routine, this was – boring, one might say.

For one as good at his job as Arten Talran, dissecting utility droids was not the most glamorous of tasks. And when he could have been out drinking, or sleeping, or doing anything, really, he couldn't be expected to concentrate fully on his work.

So he didn't notice when the droid's deactivated eye flashed with a barely imperceptible light, or when the quietest of beeps echoed within the droids opened shell. And he certainly didn't notice when the droid slowly twisted its head around and began to whir softly, slowly but surely hacking into the mining facilities' mainframe. After all, it was early, and this was routine. He couldn't be expected to concentrate.

There was a time when Coorta didn't care about what happened around him. There was a time when he had kept away from things that didn't concern him, leaving well enough alone.

But that time was gone, and had been for a long time. So he tried to keep tabs on everyone and everything in the mining facility, whether it involved him or not.

And when an unregistered freighter arrived, carting nothing but the dead, well, that was something he had to know about. And it infuriated him that he had learned nothing. The security force was being infuriatingly tight-lipped about the entire thing, and none of his contacts could dredge up any information. So, of course, it meant it was high security, top-secret, all that bureaucratic code worded garbage.

Of course, he could wait a couple of weeks to find out what the big secret was. Information flowed through the station like juma through a cantina; in abundance and about three weeks past expiration. Sooner or later, someone would let something slip.

But he didn't want to wait.

"Morning, Arten."

Arten Talran glared at the speaker through bleary eyes. "What do you want, Coorta?"

Coorta raised his eyebrows, leaning casually against the wall. "Don't be so hostile. You look tired."

Talran sighed heavily. "It was an early morning. I had to go take a look at those droids that came in with the freighter. What do you want?"

Coorta grinned and shook his head. "You know me too well, Arten. I want information." He moved slowly towards the maintenance officer, reminding Talran of a dewback, or a rancor, or of some other not-very subtle animal.

It was early, and he was tired. He couldn't think of a better way to describe it.

Coorta continued, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

"I want to know about that ship. What's all the secrecy about?"

Talran blinked. "What? What secrecy? What are you talking about?"

Coorta clenched his jaw and hissed in frustration. "Damnit, Talran, you know what I'm talking about! What doesn't the Administration want us to know?"

Talran ran his hand through his hair exasperatedly, letting his fingers run over the welding goggles he always wore. It was a comforting feeling, one that helped him calm down whenever he got annoyed or confused. "Coorta, I don't know what you're talking about. The only thing I know about that ship is that the droids that came with it were beat up pretty badly."

Coorta's expression remained incredulous, and Talran sighed. Obviously, Coorta wasn't going to believe him. "Look, I'm going up to the mess hall. I don't have time for this." He slid past Coorta and started to walk away, calling back, "If the bosses up-deck say it's secret, then it's secret. No use poking your nose in anywhere it doesn't belong."

Coorta watched Talran go, frustration and curiosity building up in his chest like an impending storm. He clenched his fist, letting his nails sink into his skin. Tomorrow, there would be tell-tale red welts on his palm, jostling for space with calluses and palm lines. The pain helped take his mind off of how badly he wanted to throttle Maintenance Officer Arten Talran.

He wasn't sure if that man was lying, but all his instincts screamed that Talran was. And he wouldn't have gotten where he was today without listening to his instincts.

Coorta looked up at the glowing signs that lit the hallways of the mining facility. He still had a few more stops to make. And he had the perfect cover story for the next one, too.

"Coorta, you can't come in here, this is a restricted area!" Dr. Essia Antell rushed towards the open door, annoyance evident on her face. Coorta's eyes drifted over the room, coming to rest of the woman in the kolto tank. He stared at her curiously for a moment, ignoring the protests of the medical officer. Finally, he turned to look at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Who's that, Essia?"

The medical officer frowned and avoided the question. "The name's Dr. Antell. Why are you here, Coorta? You know you're not allowed!"

Coorta stared off towards the tanks again, and the Essia put her hands on her hips and sent him the most withering glare she could possibly manage. That brought Coorta out of his thoughts as he glared indignantly back.

"Yen got injured. I wanted to see how he was doing." He jerked his thumb back towards the tanks. "Who's that?" Essia sighed, and looked away. Her answer came softly, and Coorta had to lean in to hear her properly.

"She was on that freighter that docked. Only survivor." Coorta raised his eyebrows. The woman floating in the tank certainly didn't look very strong, and he doubted she would have lasted against the type of opponents that had nearly destroyed the ship.

"Really? How'd she make it?" Essia answered without thinking, still lost in thought.

"Well, she healed quite quickly. And it helps that she's-" she stopped talking, and shot Coorta a suspicious glance. He perked up, his interest piqued.

"And what?" The officer turned sharply to the computer terminal and tapped a few buttons.

"I'll clear you to see Yen."

"What is she? And what?" Coorta persisted.

"And nothing. Here's your clearance. He's in the back room." She nearly shoved the datapad into his hands as soon as it finished transmitting the clearance. Coorta stood stubbornly in front of her for a moment, suspicion entering his gaze.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again as Dr. Antell's fiery glare returned to land on him. Coorta made a beeline for the door, letting it slide closed behind him, his brain working furiously.

Something funny was going on, and it involved that woman in the kolto tank. Maintenance Officer Talran was in on it, no matter what he said, and so was Dr. Antell. That meant the Administration knew about whatever was happening, and by association, the Security staff. Coorta let himself smile for a moment, slapping the datapad against his hand.

He let himself think of possible answers to his questions. Maybe the woman was a republic scout, or a soldier. Maybe she was a smuggler, or a wanted criminal. Whatever it was, it was important enough to leave the regular workers like him out of the loop.

He didn't like being left out of the loop. And, incidentally, Security Lieutenant Jedo Tarel couldn't hold his juma, or his tongue when drunk, if his life depended on it.

All thoughts of Yen and clearance chased from his mind, Coorta sat down on a medical container and began to plan.

If there was a big hidden conspiracy going on, he would find out about it soon enough.

He would bet his life on it.

Author's Note: Whew! Finally a second chapter! Ironically, it's only after school has started that I've been able to add the stuff to the first chapter, and finish this one. Funny, huh? Well, I'm not too pleased with the chapter, but I think it turned out alright. I'm not quite sure how I'm going to string everything together, but I'll manage. And, once again, if you like it, hate it, or don't care, please be kind and review. It makes me happy! And happy authors are more productive, or so I've been told. And to the reviewers who reviewed the first chapter: Thanks! You're awesome!