Chapter 17 – You Should Have Chosen Option A
Corso tried to tell himself that it made sense for his throat to be tight and his mouth to be dry – after all, this was Tatooine, and the twin suns had been beating down all day. "Vacy, come in," he murmured. He listened for a response, anything, no matter how faint, trying to ignore the twisting knot in his gut.
The skiff's engine grumbled to life, and first the cab, and then the cargo compartment lifted off the ground. The repulsors groaned, sand whirling below the enormous vehicle. And then, slowly, the skiff began to move forward, picking up speed bit by bit.
Everything seemed suddenly tight – every muscle, every joint. He could feel his teeth clenched together and the folds of his gloves digging into his palms as his hands curled into fists. The bright midday glare brought the world around him into sharp focus, including the guards talking into their comms. His fingers brushed the controls of his own, scanning the short-range frequencies.
"… yeah, well, the boss better not spend the pot on whores ag'in. What he does with his cut ain't my concern, but my share better not git shorted."
"You jist better be glad they're outta range. Damn well git shot fer smartin' off."
"Wisht he'd left that little twi'lek for us. A red one, at that – bet she'd be a sweet piece."
"An alien? Chura yourself! That's just nasty."
"Well, he said they'd be back by nightfall, so I s'pose there's only so much of your share they can rodder around, neh?"
Corso shut his comm off entirely, the sour taste of bile thick on his tongue. 'Back by nightfall' at the rate the skiff was traveling meant there was no way they would be going all the way to Mos Ila; Anek was more likely, which meant they were headed around to the west.
His pace was steady, his breath even as he ran back toward the set of rocks where he knew he'd find the speeder. When he was sure he was far enough away that he wouldn't attract suspicion, he reached down and shut off the stealth generator. Its resistance evaporated, and his strides lengthened, his speed increasing easily. Moments later he was stepping up into the seat of the speeder, powering it up, and heading southwest as fast as it would go.
He knew of a spot where there was a set of switchbacks up a rock face on the way to Mos Anek, and while he had to take a more circuitous route to avoid being seen by the slavers, the speeder was light and handled easily. As he crested the final incline, he looked back and could see the freighter approaching over the last set of dunes. There wasn't going to be much time to set up his ambush, but it would have to be enough.
They were still a few klicks from Mos Anek, but both of the men in the cab were already making bets about which of their group would blow through his share first. Tatooine was a miserable planet – the heat and the grit couldn't be rightly explained to someone who hadn't experienced it – but that made for some sweet opportunities.
Suddenly a dark, cold voice interrupted them. "Hey assholes, you listening?" The sound was thin, coming from a small speaker.
The driver swore, reaching down to fumble at his comm. There was no further message, as though whoever was speaking was waiting for a reply.
"You grister!" snapped the other man, snatching the device from his smaller partner. "Supposed to have these off anyhow." He flipped the switch to transmit. "You don't wanna mess with us, bub. Git off our channel."
He switched back, then leaned out the window, hollering at the lookout crouched on the ledge of that side of the cab. "You spot anything? We got somebody poachin' our comms!" He sat back again, scanning the area around them, when the voice came through the comm again.
"I don't know who you are, and I don't care. You have something I want. And if you drop your cargo now and leave, I'll let it go at that. But I swear to you by every grain of sand on this planet, if you don't, I will just kill you and take it."
The driver looked over at the man next to him, his expression uncertain. "Uh. Boss?"
But the larger man simply glowered back. He snapped the switch, sneering in reply, "We're transporting legitimate freight here, so you can toff it."
There was silence over the channel, and the slaver captain smirked at the driver, who shrugged, wheeling them around the first bend. The engine began to whine a bit as the incline increased. The driver adjusted the controls, the engine shifted to a lower, throatier groan, and the skiff lurched forward, picking up speed again.
The lookout on the driver's side shouted, and there was the chatter of blaster fire. "Kriff!" muttered the scrawny man, trying to get the freighter to move faster. "Jussek's down." The other lookout had drawn his blaster as well, and was shooting across the front of the vehicle, using the cab as cover. But when he leaned out to fire off another round, he jerked and fell, and the repulsors groaned as they pulverized the sudden obstruction.
The cab abruptly shuddered as a heavy weight landed on the roof, rocking it from side to side violently. The driver yelped, desperately wrenching the controls to keep the skiff from smashing into the rock wall beside them. "Do your job, you worthless rodder!" cursed the captain, snatching his blaster and firing up into the roof.
But the driver had no chance to reply, for an enormous blade smashed down through the roof, skewering him neatly before being yanked back again. His eyes glazed over, still wide in confusion, as he collapsed against the controls, blood dribbling from his mouth.
A form dropped down on the far side of the cab, and the slaver fired again, but the man simply ducked back. A moment later, the door was wrenched open and the captain found himself face-to-face with a harpoon gun.
"That was the wrong answer," snarled the voice he'd heard over the comm.