5. Smuggler's Moon
The ship Sage had commandeered was the smoothest ride he'd ever had. The hyperdrive boosted him halfway to the Corellian sector before he managed to deactivate the autopilot and switch course for Nar Shaddaa. The droid had proved willing to cooperate with a hydrospanner to its memory core. The tracking bug was harder to remove. Sage left fiddling with the controls and propped his legs up in the cockpit. He twirled his lightsaber absently in his hand.
Several frown lines creased his face. He ran a hand through his long hair, and his fingers came away flaked with congealed blood. Sage winced. He did not like to abandon his allies lightly, despite past experience. And he had left Sarin in a very compromising position, between a known enemy and several toothy monsters. He owed it to her to at least relate Eorlax's message and her situation to the Council. Problem was, his interest lay in staying far away from the Council. An anonymous message could serve him well, he mused. It would be impossible to track a specific signal from Nar Shaddaa.
He settled back to sleep in the plush pilot's chair. Luxury was nice. He should have pilfered rich Separatists earlier.
It took two days, during which he snoozed, took inventory, and caught up on his snoozing. Visiting the 'fresher occasionally. The droid beeped and complained that he snored. He complained of bleeping trash compactors. Nar Shaddaa loomed into sight, and soon the planet-spanning mega-polis materialized. Sage navigated easily through the atmosphere, heedless of departing ships, and wove an intricate course under bridges and through tunnels, landing just nigh the Refugee Sector. The decaying duracrete creaked as he settled the ship on the abandoned landing pad. It was cracked, but held out. Go figure.
Sage had the droid voice lock the ship and collected a modest sum of credits from the safe in the cargo hold before heading out. Knowing Nar Shaddaa, he let his scruffy look work in his favor of deterring potential thieves. His saber hilt was tucked safely in an inside pocket. He generously sprained the wrist of the first local he caught in his pocket. Nar Shaddaa was like the back of his hand. Things could get dirty and hairy, but they were intimately familiar.
He traversed his preferential route to the dingy cantina that had changed so little and settled across a window in a shadowed corner to nurse a double juma juice. The Twi'lek dancers curled their lekku. The stench of caffa permeated the room, smoky and full of chattering natives dabbling in the unsavory business of offplanet smuggling. Sage relaxed. Marginally. His green eyes found the flashing neon screen advertising death sticks.
Suddenly the screen flashed red and blue. The inhabitants of the bar all crowded in for the special report, and Sage leaned casually around a shapely dancer to watch. Ah. Separatist propaganda.
He averted his gaze quaffed his juma in one go. The taste helped dull the frustration that had flared up. The smugglers all ate it right up. Free trade. They couldn't imagine the repercussions galactic capitalism would entail. Sage cringed at the thought. He hated politics.
It took him a few drinks, but eventually he gathered the willpower to head back out into the world. He set out to re-establish some old contacts.
The abandoned apartments reeked. His old hideout was on this floor, as well as the haunt of an old friend. Sage found Roark Garnet lying under two Twi'lek dancers, completely pissed. He grumbled about pilots gone to waste as he dragged the smuggler over a few rooms and busted into some cleaner living quarters – Sage's old rooms. Luckily the room was deserted, and much better kept than the rest of the building thanks to saber-twisted metal lock. There were two bunks and the broken glass had been thoughtfully swept up into a corner. Sage heaved his drunk associate onto a bunk. Roark could snore like a Hutt.
His old stores were untouched. Sage welded the door shut with his saber, then scavenged his things for soap and headed for the fresher.
Feeling much more hospitable after his steamy shower, Sage dug up an extra pair of his old, reinforced armor and took inventory. Soon Roark stirred, and Sage handed him the dregs of his juma juice. Gulping down the alcohol, Roark regained some color.
"Argh, my head…" he moaned.
"Should have had better sense than to overindulge and end up under a pile of wasted dancers."
"By the Force! Tor'vel, is that really you?"
"No, it's the voice of your conscience. In the flesh."
"Oh, you should've seen the last few months, Torve, spice is soaring! They're paying quadruple what they used to, and I got somethin' nice off a smuggler from Ilum for you…"
"Garnet, I just landed, you're wasted, and I need to transmit a message to Coruscant."
Rourk Garnet looked up from where he'd be riffling through his pockets, winced in the light. "I though you were staying away from that place, Torve. Thought you weren't going back to them Jedi."
"I'm not going to declare myself Master Tor'vel Sageril again, no," said Sage impatiently, "but I need to inform them. Call it a debt. A Jedi helped me get out of a tight spot back on Geonosis, and I'd like to return the favor, considering I left her to the mercy of the Head of the Confederacy."
Rourk's eyes widened. "You gotta tell me about that."
Sage smiled thinly and related the events of the past days to Rourk. At the end of it, Rourk was gaping.
"Man…" he whistled. "She's screwed. And so are you. Didn't it occur to you that a ship like the one you stole would have, oh, I dunno, a tracking device?"
"It occurred to me, once or twice. Perhaps you'd like to remove it?"
"Not until I get some sleep I don't. And don't you look so damn smug about it. You wait 'til you're this hungover."
Sage arched an eyebrow but conceded, "A few hours it is." It was surprisingly easy for Rourk to drift back to sleep, but Sage lay awake for some time and slept fitfully. It was early morning when he roused Rourk.
Looking resigned now, Rourk didn't protest. "Alright, Torve, I'll rescue you. Two gizkas, one rock. You need to contact those Jedi now? You need that device disabled? Let's and over to your ship. But breakfast first."
"Excellent. Knew you'd come through for me."
Sage melted the door open again, grabbed some gear, and led a groaning Rourk through the apartments.
"I expect compensation."
"Let me buy you a drink on the way, Garnet."
"You're not so bad a guy, you know." The cantina was serving juma juice despite the early hour, along with the greenish omelets. They were sitting by a window, watching speeders race by, their reflectors glinting in the bright sunlight. "Here, I got it on me," Rourk, mouth full, had dug out a small, rag-wrapped bundle from his pockets. "Kept it for you for months, but you never showed. I thought you'd abandoned me, so don't blame me for wanting to sell 'em. They're worth a fortune. But you're here, so take 'em. Had a hell of a time figuring out what they were – some smuggler from Ilum handed 'em along with the credits for a couple bags o' Ryll."
Sage took the bundle cautiously. "Ryll trade? You've gotten ambitious, Garnet."
"I'm making it big, Torve, just like we always wanted. I'm going to get myself a ship soon."
"Captain Rourk Garnet. No, just can't see it."
"Spoilsport. Open them. They'd have been handy on Geonosis, eh? I'm not totally ignorant; I know you Jedi value those things. Else you'd have chucked your saber. But even you aren't that stubborn."
"No, I suppose not," Sage distractedly, waving over the droid waitress. "More caffa, please, and our check."
"Are you going to drown yourself in caffa or look at what I got you?"
Sage grinned doggedly but unwrapped the rags. His grin slid off his face, replaced by awe.
"Ah, told you, told you. What d'you think now of my connections, eh?"
Three mutli-faceted crystals were glowing dimly in Sage's hands. One shone a faint, frosty blue, another a deep green, and the third was veined with glittering teal. The rag was cold to the touch. Sage re-wrapped them hastily and stowed them in an inner pocket.
"You realize what these are?"
"Only the best for you, Torve. Took a hell of a long time finding out what they were – no one wanted to tell me, but the price offers I got were high. Planet Ilum specializes in Adegan lightsaber crystals, y'know? The green's a Mephite, and the teal is some sort of mix of two Ilum types, from what I figure…"
"How did you get the blue?"
"The blue's a Pontite, rare as they come," said Rourk proudly. "I nicked it off the guy, actually, just as he was leaving."
Sage snorted into his caffa. "Well done, Garnet. You surprise me."
"Yeah, well, I figured your lightsaber has saved my neck enough times for me to treat you to a present. Now pay up and let's get."
Sage paid the droid handsomely and the two left. Rourk gloated the whole way.
"Parked by the Refugee sector, did you?"
"Old habits die hard."
"Hold on, I want to talk to someone…" Rourk walked over to a kiosk, situated between two droid shops. Sage stood back as Rourk haggled with the shopkeeper.
"Fifty's my final offer," barked Rourk.
"Seventy-five or no deal," insisted the shopkeeper.
"Sixty."
"I'm selling myself short…"
"Forget this joint, Sage, let's get-"
"Alright, sixty five."
"Deal!"
Rourk showed Sage a cluster of multi-colored wires. "This'll jumble up those Jedi. Your ship's gonna have first-rate transponder scramblers. Know what that means, buddy? Means no one'll ever track ya again, and no one'll ever block ya again. Cause this'll eliminate all your problems."
"Can your wires make the Sith go away, too?"
"Smartass. This your ship?"
"Next one."
"Damn… that's nice. I'd a baby like that I wouldn't ever leave hyperspace."
"Hmm."
"You're smug now, but you'll see."
"Enough, kid. You said you'd help me, remember? Trash compactor, do you read?" the last was addressed to the ship. The droid responded by lowering the ramp, haltingly.
"Welcome aboard. After you," Sage smirked at Rourk's awe. They climbed into the ship. The R2-D4 bleated at them. Sage kicked the droid. Rourk didn't admonish him as he would normally have. He was busy gaping at the lush carpet, the tiled ceiling, the double-paned windows, and all those luxurious technicalities Sage had overlooked.
"We can admire the cargo hold all day, but I think you need the cockpit."
"Did you steal this from the Head of State? 'cause this is top-of-the-line stuff, Torve. You seen the auto turrets you've got?"
"I promise I'll let you examine to your heart's content. Just install you little wires first."
As soon as they reached the cockpit, Rourk found more cause for fawning. "Aw… look at those accelerators… baby…"
Sage sat back and made himself comfortable in the pilot's chair. Rourk set to work, grabbing a hydrospanner and cracking open a dashboard panel.
Fifteen minutes later, he was still hard at work. "How long this going to take you?"
Rourk waved him off without glancing up. Sage stretched and went back over to the cargo hold, where he found a dual set of tools and decided to reexamine his new crystals in context with his saberstaff.
The Pontite crystal was stubborn. Sage had frozen his fingers off trying to fit the thing perfectly, and it kept jumping out of his saberstaff. The blasted rock was too narrow! Sage considered the glowing blue crystal. Then he stuffed it into the toolbox and tried his luck with the others. The green Mephite fit perfectly. Sage wasted some time adjusting it vainly to strike the lens more brightly, then decided to add the teal Adegan hybrid for the set, and tightened his hilt. The tarnished metal could use polishing. He ignited the saber.
It sparked brightly, narrowly missing his leg but charring the workbench, and the beam of light was much more intense. The saturated green blade hummed loudly. Sage flicked it off to give his eyes a rest.
"Ey, Torve! All finished!"
Rourk was grimy and his hair stood on end as though he'd been given several healthy doses of electro-therapy. The dashboard panel was back in place, though slightly lopsided. Rourk grinned.
"Alright Garnet, let's see…"
It took two tries, but the transmitter hummed to life and, being of expensive make, had no trouble reaching as far as Coruscant.
"You're sure it'll be anonymous?"
"Positive. It distorts your holo image and your voice, so you could be a Wookie for all they know. It also won't allow them to track ya down, courtesy of Rourk Garnet tech specialists."
"Alright, then scat. Go play with my workbench, examine the turrets. Perhaps you'll upgrade my weaponry? Or at least give that droid a memory wipe. It's rotten to its memory core."
Rourk scampered off happily.
Sage tisked until he could delay no more, then dug out Eorlax's holo and inserted it into a slot. The Jedi Council at the temple on Coruscant. He heard a stern voice enquire to his identity. Instead of replying, he transmitted the holo.
The Jedi reacted. Sage could hear indiscernible chatter on the other side. He said, "I need to speak to Master Windu, about his apprentice," and his voice echoed back deeper, unrecognizable.
It took some time, but eventually Sage got his wish. He frowned at the screen.
"This is Mace Windu. You have information for me?"
How Sage loathed that disciplined, aloof manner he had emulated for years. "Knight Sarin was taken captive on Geonosis by Separatist forces. The very top of the pyramid, in fact. If she is still alive, the Head of the Confederacy will likely interrogate her and offer some political exchange."
"Who is this? Where is Sarin now?"
"No idea. But I consider my debt repaid."
Windu opened his mouth, but Sage terminated the signal. The image fizzed out. Sage sighed. He didn't feel relieved as he'd hoped. A crash from the cargo hold brought him out of his despondent musings.
Rourk climbed out of the trap door he'd fallen into. "You've got a cellar full of Glitteryll, did you know?" he asked. He seemed dazed. If what he said was true then Sage was carrying around the most expensive, addictive, and illegal drug in the galaxy by the cellar-full. Complications, complications.
"Alright, druggie, thank you for your help. I'll compensate you with a crate of that stuff if I can have your word you won't touch it yourself."
"Tarve, that stuff…"
"Could probably buy you a new ship, I know. Consider it your compensation."
"We'll need to disperse it carefully, such a large influx will cause inflation, we don't want it to fall in value…" Rourk's enterprising smuggler's brain was at it. Sage cast a glance through the trap door. There were crates of the stuff. Disgusting. But a windfall, nevertheless.
"You think this is how the Separatists recruit?" asked Sage darkly.
"We'll sell one crate to this system, send another to the Sigil system…" Rourk was distracted. Sage let it go.
"Alright kid. You helped me out. I'm with you. Traveling seems the thing to do when we've got ourselves a ship like this. What do you say? We partner up once more, get rid of this stuff in the more efficient manner. Loath as I am to traffic spice…"
Rourk practically glowed. "Like old times! And when we get most of it, you can drop me off at Ilum. I'm gonna make it big on those crystals, I swear."
"We could take revenge on those Geonosians with this stuff," mused Sage. "Spice brings misery wherever it goes, especially Glitteryll. We'll sell them a crate, then maybe strike an Iridonian world and those Separatists. Spice for the Republic! Uniting for democracy." He scoffed.
"And while we're at it, we can trade this stuff for medical supplies and ferry that to appease you conscience," suggested Rourk.
"How considerate. So now we've preparations to make."
"Let's head to Geonosis first," opined Rourk, "I'm curious to know what became of your Jedi friend."
"I'm sick of that world," said Sage. "But perhaps revenge shall be sweet."
"Spicy, you mean!" Garnet grinned widely, eyes sparkling.
A/N: Thank you, queenieb, I'm very responsive to feedback as you can tell :) I hope you enjoy.
The ride only gets darker from here...