Chapter 30: Sanda Krit'skar
Thellus Asteroid, Dressel System
All of the important Bothans at the Grum's Mansion were gone for the day. Azi'skar was off in New Aroo, Olanir and Klaes were in the Agkaworza 'Yobod District, running the pre-Symposium Auction, and Thot Ni'mai was at the auction.
That left Hakorsk, Sanda Krit'skar, and her boyfriend, Q'afillip home alone.
"So, where are you kids off to?" Hakorsk asked wearing an excited grin.
Sanda and Q'afillip were dressed in black jeans, black shirts, and over their shirts, black trench-coats.
Q'afillip had caked white makeup onto his human face and dabbed on black eyeliner.
Sanda had caked her mane-like head hair in black hair grease, some of which dripped onto her fur giving her a brown and speckled black look.
"We esh goin' to the Summit," Sanda growled cautiously. She exchanged a look with Q'afillip, looking to Hakorsk then back. Do we want this middle-aged man going to the Summit with us? What if he tells Olanir where we went?
Sanda and Q'afillip were unable to get tickets for a shuttle to Tawa until tomorrow and thus, being sensible teenagers, had decided to drop into Thellus's roguest club.
"Could I come?!" Hakorsk yipped pleadingly. "Thot is going to be at the auction all evening, looking over boring weapons and armour."
"Uh…" Sanda groaned.
"Sure," Q'afillip muttered. "Jus' wear a jacket and nokiz tell Olanir a word, yeah?"
"Sweet, I got tons of jackets!" Hakorsk snarled with an excited toothy grin. "And I won't tell Olanir a thing!" he added in excitement.
"Can I come?" Zoc growled nervously.
The Grum's son clubbing with us… That'll actually be rogue! "Sure!" Sanda yipped.
o-o-o
Sanda's and Zoc's fur swirled with embarrassment on the Maglev to the Agkaworza 'Yobod District.
If humans had Bothan fur, Q'afillip's would have been swirling too. Everyone was staring at them. Even old Askars were staring at the dorky off-worlder sitting next to them.
Hakorsk was wearing tight blue jean with a belt buckle bearing Clan Amai's Sigil, a grey undershirt, and a green corduroy jacket. Against Hakorsk's tan and red fur, his corduroy jacket made him resemble an apple.
Old ladies think you look dorky, Sanda thought, scowling.
"You Askars must not get many visitors," Hakorsk growled nervously, staring back at all of the onlookers.
"Kiz," Sanda sighed. "That esh why everyone esh starin' at you."
"Nųkhįz." [No,] Zoc snarled. "Esh because you look like a kriffin' dork!" he yelped, echoing loudly across the relatively silent maglev car.
"Dork?!" Hakorsk yelped, his fur swirling with embarrassment.
"Zoc!" Sanda gasped. "Esh so rude!"
"Esh true!" Zoc snarled, his fur standing on end. "Esh the yas." [It's the truth].
"He's right," Q'afillip muttered.
Hakorsk's fur twirled unhappily. "Well, if you want me to go back by myself—"
Sanda's fur swirled nervously. Shtak! My parents are gonna kill me! Rude to Grum Ni'mai's husband?! "No!" she exclaimed. "Not at all. As you can see though…" she growled thoughtfully, "we esh dressed in all black and white, yeah?"
"Yeah," Hakorsk agreed.
"So," Q'afillip said, realising where his girlfriend was going with this. "We'll take you to get some clothes."
"Shopping! On Thellus?" Hakorsk yipped loudly and excitedly.
Sanda gave a spacer hand nod, let's be a bit quieter. This is not Bothawui.
o-o-o
"Can you take my picture?" Hakorsk growled, wearing an amused grin. He was now dressed in black jeans, a black sweater with the word "Alone" plastered on it in Basic in white lettering, and wore a black leather bomber jacket, unzipped.
"Sure," Sanda sighed, taking his datapad.
Hakorsk stood next to a graffitied window, smiling.
Sanda took his picture.
"Thanks!" Hakorsk yipped.
Zoc scoffed, shaking his head.
As the four continued around the circumference of the Agkaworza 'Yobod District, walking towards the Summit, Hakorsk stopped for photo opportunities next to seedy looking things whenever possible.
Sanda sighed with relief as the Summit came into view. A tall, thin, windowless cylindrical structure on the outside. A lone muscly Bothan bouncer stood at the base of the structure, wearing a tight black T-shirt.
"Can you take my picture again?!" Hakorsk yipped excitedly. "Holy shtak this is funny!"
Sanda turned around, her fur twirling unhappily and then scowled, her fur standing on end.
Hakorsk was standing next to a police speeder, flashing a Spacer hand shrug.
"Stop it!" Zoc snarled. "Esh offensive, old man."
For once, Sanda agreed with Zoc's tone. "Yeah, stop it," she muttered bitterly.
"I am sorry," Hakorsk growled nervously. "I didn't mean to be offensive."
Sanda snorted. Sure, you didn't. "Let's just go inside."
At the entrance to the Summit, the bouncer held out his hand. "Gonna need to see your IDs."
Hakorsk started pulling out his ID—
"—Not you," the bouncer snorted.
Sanda handed him her pilot's licence that said "Пробоматisk/Probationary" at the top in big red letters. The day she was released from prison for chucking garbage at the Republic Station, her pilot's licence was taken, and she was given a probationary one during her suspension period.
"Sanda Krit'skar," he chuckled. "I remember you from the news. Seventeen and already causin' so much trouble."
Her fur swirled with embarrassment. "Not gonna cause trouble," she stammered.
"Zoc Azi'skar. It's an honour to have you," he growled with a polite head nod.
"Thank you," Zoc smirked, his fur danced with excitement.
"Q'afillip Salwell?"
"Kiz?" Q'afillip asked nervously.
"You esh gonna need to wear these," the bouncer growled, handing him ultra-violet blocking glasses.
"Awwww…" Q'afillip moaned, taking the dorky-looking plastic sunglasses.
"Humans can get snow blindness," the bouncer muttered gruffly. "Wear them in there. It's the law."
o-o-o
As the trio trudged up the snowy steps, it became apparent to Sanda that Q'afillip would be the only non-Bothan in the Summit. Her fur twitched in amazement as the dark and light ultraviolet colours in every direction.
With an interior kept at a freezing -10ºC, the Summit was the coldest place on Thellus. The lighting inside the club was designed to replicate the conditions as the polar sun of Bothawui-4 hung low in the sky. To a human, it would have looked like a bright red towards the bottom of the walls on the interior of the cylinder; a dark blue to black at the top. A brilliant polar sunrise with bright light reflecting painfully from the snow.
To a Bothan, it had far more colour contrasts towards the top of the cylinder, and light and dark ultraviolet hues towards the bottom.
The purple and blue hues dominated by the time the four reached the club floor, at the very top of the pinnacle. Clear of snow, at the centre of the club floor sat a bar. To the left were dozens of tall tables with tall stools, and to the right was a dance floor.
To prevent drunk patrons from falling off the pinnacle, the top was lined with safety bars.
Dozens of holographic Dudub birds flew around the snowy pinnacle in every direction. At least Q'afillip can see those birds, Sanda thought. "Hey, those birds are rogue, huh?" she growled, drooling slightly at their tasty purple colour.
"Yeah," Q'afillip said with a spacer hand shrug. His nose was already reddened from the cold.
o-o-o
Klaes Oc'skar
For Klaes, helping Olanir out with the Futures' Symposium was the best thing that had happened to him all year. Neris Krit'skar, his wife, and Olanir's younger cousin, was furious with him over the attack on Bothawui-9. He had spent his first night back from Thellus—his first night back in weeks—on the couch.
While Neris was not here for the auction, Klaes hoped that Azi'skar would openly show his appreciation. Show that all has been forgiven, that Klaes has behaved himself, and was back in his good favour.
Everything was going well. The attendees were a diverse crowd: while Thot Ni'mai was the only Clan Leader in attendance, there were a few other Bothans, there were two Mon Calamari, a Trandoshan, seven Muuns, three Nemoidians, dozens of humans, and even tentacled Parwan engineer with three eyes.
"Two hundred thousand Zav?" Klaes growled. "Going once, going twice, sold to Doctor Resssk!"
The tan-yellow skinned Trandoshan engineer hissed in excitement as the Bothan assistants pushed the Falleen disintegrator back through the curtain to the pickup area.
Olanir smirked to Klaes, her fur danced with excitement. "Up next," she growled, "we have an unusual offering. Sixty-four suits of Mandalorian armour!"
"That's not fair!" Thot yelped indignantly. "Selling all sixty-four as a package! Why not sell them one at a time?"
"Well, maybe you can re-sellthem," Olanir suggested with a Spacer hand-shrug.
Klaes snorted.
Olanir then drew the curtain. Two Mandalorian suits of armour, as expected, but her fur swirled nervously.
Klaes sniffed the air furiously. Humans. Humans are in those suits. His fur swirled with suspicion and he flashed the Spacer hand gesture for what is happening?
Olanir's eyebrow raised as she walked closer to the suit. "Hello? I can smell you in there. These suits—"
"—You know nothing of these suits, Bothan," a stern female voice said.
Gasps erupted from the audience.
"These suits are holy vessels," a male voice said matter of factly, stepping down from his suit rack. "By selling these suits you are engaging in the sins of Hod Ha'ran. Anyone who buys or sells these suits will lose their soul!" he yelled dramatically. "Become less than nothing! A fate even worse than eternal damnation!"
A few audience members chuckled derisively.
Klaes began dialling the police on his datapad. His fur swirled nervously. This is bad.
"All right, well," Olanir said consolingly, "we'll keep that risk in mind."
"No!" the female yelled. "Since you have failed to repent, we will spare you that fate. Your souls will continue to exist."
"Why, thank you," Olanir snarled impatiently, flashing her teeth.
"It is the least we can do," the male said. With a flick of the wrist, a blaster shot emitted from his wrist, flying through Olanir's head.
In the corner of his eye, Klaes saw Thot Ni'mai blasted in his chair, three flames popping up on his chest.
Klaes dived to take cover behind a row of chairs. Mid-dive, a blaster shot cut through his side. He collapsed to the floor, yelping. It was the worst pain he had ever felt. He grabbed the injury with his hand to apply pressure and his hand burned. Tears welled up in his eyes as he rubbed his hand on the ground to put out the fire. I am burning. My insides are burning. Mercifully, he fainted.
o-o-o
Ditmas Shar
Standing atop the highest floor of ICT Electronics' headquarters, Ditmas looked around at the cityscape all around and above him.
Under normal circumstances, Ditmas would have been jealous of the lucky Mandalorian team tasked with eliminating Olanir Krit'skar, the vile scumbag who trashed Eriadu through her gambling, and Thot Ni'mai, the traitor who sold weapons to Tarkin's enemies.
Very soon, though, that greenish Kavris vince-covered part of the cityscape would be history. Ditmas was about to make the largest explosion in his life. "Nothing wrong with evening the odds," Ditmas muttered to himself. "Besides, every Bothan in there has no honour. With no honour, one may as well be dead."
This will be the biggest evening of the odds in history, he thought proudly. Hod Ha'rangir himself will smile.
