Chapter 5: The Court of Crime In Business
"What do you mean, you two won't go?"
Neris's voice rose to a fever pitch and echoed across the entire hanger bay. She flung her arms up in frustration; but Captain Artera's mouth remained in that firm thin line the pirate girl knew very well, the line that meant she wasn't relenting on the decision she'd made.
"I know you wanted to surprise us, Neris, and the fact that this might pay for the ship is all well and good; but we are Shadow Wing. We are couriers and servants for no one, not a Chiss diplomat, not even a king or queen. If you choose to earn your portion of the money this way, so be it; Oowahm and I are not running some businessman's errands or taking out rodian thugs for him."
She put one shapely lavender hand on the hip of her aqua lacquered cat suit, and Neris knew it was over. She was on her own.
Oowahm, for his part, was quite torn about the entire issue. On one hand, he personally wouldn't mind an invite into this Chiss man's quarters, or the swank personal transport he had hired, and Neris had come through on finding them work. On the other hand, however, he wanted to stay on Alaya's good side as well, and the idea of having the luxury to be picky about jobs appealed to the Jawa. It was status, something his people were rarely accorded. Still, piratical dignity was nothing compared to having a ship, and they needed that money for the ship . . . his quick little mind would have continued darting back and forth like that for countless revolutions if it wasn't for the rare diplomatic insight that took him at that moment.
He motioned emphatically to Alaya, jabbing his little bandaged thumb in the direction of the new potential crew members. Jern Ponn and Akila Menavoo had arrived promptly at 0800 hours, and had been given a thorough interrogation by Alaya Artera. Both had requested a no-background check clause, which wasn't much of a shock in this line of work, and had been reluctantly accepted after the Captain had done an exhaustive amount of empathic probing with her own considerable Force abilities. Though she could find no dishonesty in them, it was clear to Oowahm that their commander hardly felt they were material befitting her crew. Now was a perfect chance for the two to demonstrate their value. Though no words passed between them, the captain seemed to catch on, and one look in her eyes told him that she approved . . . and something else.
Alaya once again turned on her dazzling smile.
"Oowahm seems to have found a solution, one I wholeheartedly agree upon. Let your friends prove their dedication to this crew by helping you earn all the money for the new ship. Work for this Von, if you want; you can even pursue your ludicrous idea of ferreting out more Alderaanean Ale for Commander Ravenstar. Do whatever you want to do, so long as we have a ship by the end of the month. They get hired as part of our crew and . . . I'll consider you for a position of authority at last."
Neris leapt forward and embraced her captain, oblivious to the crooked half-grin now playing on Alaya's lips, a grin that would have let Neris know she wasn't getting the whole story. Jern saw it, though, and wasn't convinced the pirates would do anything but shoot them in the back and maybe their foolish blue-haired shipmate as well. But the silly girl was busy making assurances to the twi'lek and the jawa that they wouldn't be sorry about this. The kel-dor turned glance at the Lady Akila by his side; her serenity had not diminished, though, and she waited calmly for the proceedings to conclude. He often wished he had her faith, and her confidence in the will of the Force.
Meanwhile, in his comfortably spare office in the suite at the Promenade, redecorated and furnished to Chiss specifications, Lord Von Lormac was awaiting the first of three important meetings he was to have today.
He didn't expect to have long to wait. Like so many other merchants and entrepreneurs struggling under the iron claws of that repulsive rodian, Commander Ravenstar and his mon calamari engineer friend seemed like reasonable, hard-working individuals. The idea of grinding those under one's dominion into the dirt and creating unfair monopolies disgusted the young Chiss. On Csilla, if someone was the better businessman, one acknowledged that. The competitors could try as many covert and less than legitimate ways to one up each other as they desired, but one never used strong arm tactics to bully a rival. If another entrepreneur was smarter than Von Lormac, he congratulated that person, not threatened them. Not only was it cowardly, it was an admission of defeat to only be able to beat the competition by cheating in such a manner.
And this Prometheus was undoubtedly a coward. Von knew exactly how to handle cowards.
The door chimed at about 1005, and slid open to usher in Ravenstar and Grobthar in the most ridiculous outfits. The proud commander and his fishman cohort were wearing bright red tights and loose black tunics bearing the insignia of their crimelord boss, a crudely stylized rodian head with bulging bug-like eyes. They shuffled more than walked into the room, quite clearly dejected by this "duty".
Parting on either side of the door, they allowed Grobthar's prize droid, a creation he had proudly showcased to Von the night before, to enter with what appeared to be a vid screen strapped across its front. The machine, if it was possible, seemed equally humiliated. The clumsy vid screen preventing its normal rolling movement, the droid seemed hesitant and awkward actually walking with its four claw-like legs. It halted a few meters from Von's desk, and the screen switched on and began to crackle.
"Presenting the honorable Lord Prometheus, first among rodians in the eyes of the grateful people of Ord Mantel."
Ravenstar's flat tone betrayed so much of his true feelings on the matter of this little "assignment" that it became apparent to Von that Prometheus was making him do this because he hated it. Grobthar, finishing the monologue, was equally monotonous and unwilling.
"Master of the three great stations, and prince among benefactors, our noble and benevolent employer grants you audience."
The image of Prometheus slid into focus. The rodian was seated behind an opulent desk made of pure Corellian marble, an exceptional slab no doubt chosen for its rich cream color and the ebb and flow of obsidian strands within. On his right, the bare muscular torsos of two enormous human bodyguards could be seen, large, exotic weapons clutched in their beefy hands. On his left, the scantily clad body of a woman appeared, perch on the cool marble of the desk. One slender grey-blue hand, lacquered with blood red nail polish, was massaging the rodian's nearest shoulder. The other was fingering a gaudy black medallion that was obviously meant to drawn attention to her gratuitously low neckline.
But Von could see neither her face nor the faces of the bodyguards. Only Prometheus' somewhat corpulent, glossy green insectoid face was visible. The message was clear: this scene was all about the rodian. The others were just window dressing. Prometheus leaned in, affording Von a far closer look up his protruding snout than the Chiss lord thought he'd ever want to see.
"Greeting, Von of the Chiss Empire. I welcome you and your business to my station."
More subtle messages. Prometheus spoke in his own language, and addressed Von as generally as possible, stripping away as many titles as he could and still appear politely ignorant. He also referred to the station as "his", firmly stating his rightful authority from the first and reminding Von that, for the moment at least, he was the rodian's guest.
The game begins, thought the Chiss lord. He allowed his glittering white teeth to show in a humorless smile.
"I thank you, Lord Prometheus," he replied, careful to use the rodian's proper epithet to show that Chiss citizens were the soul of decorum even in the face of rudeness. But he answered in Basic. Never give them too much ground.
"I have been told you come from a merchant family of some repute on your world," Prometheus switched to Basic, but continued with the game of subtle condescension, "And that you have recently come into your first independent voyage into the world of business."
"Yes," Von folded his hands, a gesture of self-control among his people, "I think you will find that despite my inexperience, I am an excellent purveyor of many goods rare and difficult to find. In fact, I have recently been discussing a solution to your ale import problem."
The rodian's smug demeanor faltered momentarily, and his glass-like black eyes hardened. He had apparently not expected Von to find such a crucial flaw in the station's supply lines so quickly.
"You are too kind, young Von," the edge of acid on the rodian's now openly demeaning remark was unmistakable. "I must repay the favor. In fact, in your honor, and the hopes of continual business ventures with your people, I have arranged a celebration on Purgatory."
At last, we come to it. Von couldn't keep a slight sneer off of his face. I am to be tolerated and pandered to in hopes of exploiting my empire. How little you know of us, rodian.
"Once again, I thank you, Lord Prometheus," Von unfolded his hands in a regal motion of gratitude, "and I have the offering I promised. Lain Tee, a 'gift' from my uncle for my branching forays into the entertainment industry, will be only too happy to perform at this celebration in honor of her new benefactor."
"You have brought her!" the lust in the rodian's eyes betrayed his weakness at once. He even ignored Von's latest parry in their verbal fencing match. "This pleases me greatly! Lormac, perhaps you and I have an excellent business future together."
"Now, you are to kind," Von replied with a smirk. To yourself, he added mentally.
The woman to Prometheus' left was not happy at his excitement over the twi'lek entertainer. The hand massaging his shoulder pinched quite unexpectedly. Prometheus yelped; and Grobthar and Ravenstar, who had hitherto strived to keep their expressions as blank as their voices had earlier been, seemed to have trouble suppressing their amusement. Von was pleased their employer couldn't see them, as they were fighting a losing battle.
"Erm, yes," Prometheus started, as though the pinch had merely been to remind him of some important topic he had yet to discuss, "there is one more gift I have for you. As you know, part of the celebration will consist of a duel between two famous warriors. As a show of good faith, I bequeath one of the duelists to fight under your banner. He is reputed to be a famous Sith who has survived many battles that would have killed ordinary men."
"Of course, I would be pleased to sponsor him."
At Von's response, the woman giggled, seemingly appeased. Prometheus relaxed again, smugness creeping once more into his tone.
"Excellent. He is waiting to be picked up on the planet Anobis, not far from Ord Mantel. Farewell and we look forward to meeting you in person."
The screen went dark before Von could express a hint of his anger at the parting shot. The whole "sponsorship gift" was set up to make him the delivery service for a duelist who was most likely slated to lose!
"Thank you for your assistance with Lord Prometheus' audience."
Grobthar and Ravenstar had winced at their boss's final comments. Now their increasingly strained expressions alerted Von to the fact that the grinding of his teeth hadn't been as quiet as he'd hoped. He sighed.
"Mr. Lormac," Ravenstar began, "I just want to say that Grobthar and I genuinely value your business and your friendship and -," he drifted over in a sentence that Von finished for him.
"No, Captain Ravenstar, I do not hold you an accomplice to your current employer's lack of any civilized manners."
The word "current" was deliberately enunciated.
"Are you certain that this Chiss is a reputable man to be working for?" Jern couldn't keep his distrust of that ruthless empire, or its people, out of his tone. He and Neris rounded the final corner that stood between them and the two story entrance to the Hotel Promenade. The blue-haired girl nodded.
"He seemed like a capital fellow when I met him last night. Much more upscale than our normal clientele."
Which isn't saying much, Jern thought. What he said was, "Then why are your shipmates so reluctant to work with him?"
"From the look of the contract he was making that farghul sign last night, I'm honestly not surprised. In our organization, contracts are signed by individuals, not the whole operation. They figured it's only fair that the new guys take one for the team. You and Akila come through satisfactorily on something as iron-clad as a Chiss contract, and they'll be convinced of your conviction to our crew."
We'll probably be convicted before that, reprimanded the cynical voice in the back of Jern's mind. But Neris broke in on his doom-saying inner monologue with a low whistle.
"I feel like such a farm girl. It still takes me a while to get used to stuff like this."
It was a sight. Even Jern had to admit that. Artificial sunlight illuminated the massive columns of the hotel entrance facade. They were carved in palatial Alderanian style, with narrow fluting and gracefully curling capitals. Beyond the vaulting arch, the squat foyer was bordered on either side with tropical gardens. They were a wild explosion of verdant green, augmented by a rainbow of exotic flowers and small shimmering birds that darted to and fro like flying jewels.
Passing through the open gates, Neris was immediately distracted by all the brilliance and life. Having sympathy for a fellow denizen of a harsh and haggard world, Jern gave her a few moments to revel in the beauty of a healthy ecosystem. Then, he gently cleared his throat. Neris glanced up from the glossy fern she was caressing with reverence. The awe written all over her face was almost pitiful.
"It's only an illusion," Jern reminded her, surprised by his own melancholy.
"So's most of this galaxy."
As if shaken back to the reality of her existence, the pirate girl abandoned the gardens surrounding her and made a beeline for the expansive front desk. Jern followed, feeling for all the world like he'd killed something.
After the laborious ordeal of convincing the matre'di that yes, a surly-looking kel-dor and a flyaway blue-haired ragamuffin had indeed come to see "Master Lormac", Neris and Jern boarded the private elevator to Lord Von's suite and offices in Promenade Luxury Pylon 3.
Fresh from that most annoying interview with the abominable rodian, and falling into the trap of taxi-ing some Sith rabble around, Von Lormac wasn't in the mood for any more surprises. So when Neris arrived at his door with a person who was obviously not the twi'lek captain Artera or the little engineer, he half-considered throwing them both out of his office in a rather un-Chiss-like display of rudeness. Then he noticed the lightsaber at the kel-dor's waist, half-hidden in the voluminous dun-colored robes. . . Jedi robes . . .
"Please do sit down."
Without rising, he indicated two of the three chairs at a comfortable distance from the desk. Neris promptly flopped into the central one.
"Cushy!" she half-squealed with enthusiasm, admiring the seat's plush, pillowed surface. Even under the tinted goggles, the motion of the kel-dor's rolling eyes was visible. Von smiled and folded his hands once more. He suddenly felt his amiable mood returning. The kel-dor took a seat with easy movement that hinted a warrior's training.
"Thank you, sir."
He was polite, too. Another mark in his favor
"And you are?" Von kept his tone casual, not wanting to betray his interest in the new element.
"Jern Ponn, sworn guardian of the seer Akila, whom also seeks your employment."
Behind his courtesy, the kel-dor was obviously suspicious. That was why he hadn't brought this seer he served. He was assessing the situation first. Taru herself would have done no less. In fact, it had taken much coaxing to even get her to part from Von's side for these interviews. Von valued that in his bodyguard, and he respected it in this man. So he spared Jern Ponn's pride and left the question of where this Akila was lie. Besides, there were more important inquiries to be made.
"I know why Miss Neris is interested in working for me, but what brings you to my office, Jern Ponn?"
Here the kel-dor hesitated, shifting in his seat, and Neris bit her lip. This was interesting, especially if the seer he was speaking of was the Akila Von had heard of in his little "hobby" of studying the mysterious Force. Akila Minavoo was a well-known Alderanian seer of no small repute for accuracy . . . and virtue. What could have brought two such upstanding characters into the company of a former Shadow Wing?
"Come now," Von coaxed, "If we are to do business with one another, I would appreciate frankness."
Jern scrutinized him for a moment. Von wondered if the masked Jedi was using some esoteric Force power to determine the extent of his earnestness. At last, the words were drawn slowly from behind the mouthpiece.
"We . . . have been brought here by the Force, guided to help Captain Artera and her crew acquire their ship. They have instructed me to be of some use to you. My lady Akila has told me little else."
"And how can you be of use to me, Jern?" Von's voice was soft, and he allowed a bit of rare familiarity to slide into his speech. He respected this man, wanted the two strange Force-users on his staff. "Tell me of yourself, your talents. I promise I will not ask you to do anything against your conscience."
"I am not a Jedi, my lord, if that is what you believe; but my talents are . . . comparable. I am one of the Advocates of the Force."
Neris sat up straight and let out a gasp.
"Wow! I thought they were only a legend! Those who work with both the light and the dark side of the Force."
"Very interesting, indeed," Von remarked, impressed. This was even better than a Jedi. "I am inclined to help you and your lady, Jern Ponn. I do not pretend to know your 'Force' by anything other than mere academic fascination; but if I can help you to follow where it leads you, I will do so.
And there is already a profitable task at hand, for you and Neris, at least. On the nearby planet of Anobis, there is a gentleman awaiting someone in my employment to pick him up and bring him to the station for a duel. He is a Sith, and my courier, Mevrrir, has no skill in the Force. I would be quite grateful if the two of you would go along and protect my associate should this Sith decide to be less than polite."
"And Akila?" Jern's tone was stern. "What will you ask of her?"
"Nothing against her conscience, the same as I have promised you, Jern. I am very interested in her abilities, and as any wealthy eccentric, will pay well to indulge my curiosity."
After a few more long minutes of scrutiny, Jern Ponn seemed satisfied with the terms of this agreement. Von could tell that he still had misgivings, but they didn't seem to get in the way of him signing the contract. It helped that Von assured him that he was only signing for himself, and that Akila would be held to nothing without her own personal consent.
The girl Neris was mostly quiet throughout the proceedings, an unexpected blessing. Based on his extensive knowledge of reading the potential in other sentient life, Von had narrowed her down to being an ingénue, or at least a very talented idiot. Either way, his first Force-using acquisitions for his entourage seemed to be working to his favor nicely.
He had a good twenty minutes alone in his office to enjoy plotting how these new cards could put a hitch in his rodian rival's bravado. Then, the appointed time arrived for Taru to present him with his final favor by his government and house, a gifted computer specialist. The appointed time came and went. Fifteen minutes later, neither Taru nor the "Slicer", as he was called, had appeared. Von was starting to become cross again. Taru was never late, so clearly it was the man's fault. If he failed to live up to his expectations, there would be ice cold hell to pay. The Chiss weren't tolerant of anything less than excellence from those honored with an imperial recommendation from one of the three great houses.
At last, twenty-five minutes late, Von recognized Taru's crisp knock at the office door. He always thought it quaint; she never used the chime, always knocked. It was both her disdain of modern convenience and a signal to him who it was. He could often tell her mood by that knock. From the sharp, quick violence of those 2 little raps, her current mood was most likely annoyed. He pressed the silver button that opened the automatic door.
In stumbled a shaggy haired, unkempt human of slight frame and rumpled clothes, followed by Taru, face taut with irritation. Von grimaced, both at the rough three-days scruff grown on his face and the pervasive smell of alcohol that clung to several large stains on the man's poorly buttoned shirt.
"This is the Slicer?" Von's composure finally slipped. He stared in horror at the disheveled man sprawled on the floor of his immaculate office.
"Yesh sir, yer worship!" The man staggered to his feet and saluted. "Ah'm da one an' only."
"And your name is?" Von demanded. He was told he would know the man sent by his people by a code name he used, a code name only he would know.
"Toros, yer worship, jush Toros."
"Where did you find him," Von inquired quietly, eyes flicking to Taru. A strained expression was upon her.
"Not at the rendezvous point, that's for sure. I came ten minutes early, and it took me three times as long to find him- in the local cantina, no less. And in this condition!" she sighed, "but I ID-ed him, even with a DNA test!"
"Stabbed my arm, she did!" the "Slicer" affirmed, rubbing his shoulder, "Stung, too!"
"And you like computers, Mr . . . Toros. . . you feel you are good at what you do?" Von voice was still quiet, stunned.
But the man's glazed blue eyes cleared, and into them came a look of intense cunning. He smiled, the grin of small and clever animals.
"Oh, sir, the best."
Then he crumpled to the office floor, unconscious from the drink. For a moment Von said nothing. Then he looked back up at Taru.
"Take him to his room and have him cleaned up. He is to be allowed to imbibe his poison only if he performs his duties satisfactorily."
Taru glanced at the prone form dubiously, but she obeyed her lord without question.
Once again alone in his office, Von allowed himself a sigh. So many surprises, so many things unplanned. It was almost as though this mysterious Force was taunting him. Well, for better or for worse, it seemed he was at its mercy. He only hoped it was a more understanding master than most of the Chiss gods he could name.