Morning on Ord Mantell seems slower than morning on other planets I've visited. Other places, the world would be alive and buzzing by the time I awake, people already rushing to work and school and appointments. Mantell seems to wake up slowly, stretching itself out before stumbling to the 'fresher, and then making a cup of caf. As a general habit, whenever I'm dirtside, I awake quickly and get my day started early, so I'm trying to make myself a cup of whatever blend Viidu stores in the little back room when Corso Riggs wakes up.
He makes one of those "I'm just waking up" noises and then mutters something I don't catch. I figure out the caf brewer and ask, "You want a cup?" I look at him when he doesn't answer quickly.
"Hmm?" He blinks. "Umm...yeah." I add more water. "You always awake this early?"
"Only when I'm planetside. When I'm in space, I'll sleep until my...until I feel like getting out of bed." Blast, I almost told him about Pa. The pain pricks at my heart and eyes, and my grip on the mug tightens.
"Easy there," Riggs' voice is closer than it was a minute ago. "The mug ain't gonna run away." I feel his hand pry it from mine. "Everything ok?"
I blink. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'm just gonna...get freshened up a bit."
Even though I'm still clean, I turn the shower on to another full-power blast. The water pounds against my face and mixes with the tears. Every moment of the past month (has it really already been a month?) has been filled with as strong a distraction as I could manage. I overhauled the Shadow's engine twice, cleaned every surface, did a complete systems sweep and backup, cleaned the ship's blaster turrets, read three new holonovels, got into a handful of fistfights (got kicked out of two bars because of them), and, at night, when Jol wasn't there to see me, downed at least third of a bottle of something strong or tried more bloody methods of releasing the emptiness. The water stings at the half-healed mark on my upper arm.
Jol searched for with every contact we had for something, anything, even something legitimate. Half of the contacts wouldn't deal with us, and the other half had nothing at the moment. Without work, and without access to our fathers' accounts, we were out to dry. When Kelsor finally came through with the contact info for Viidu, we were down to a nine-hundred credits (I had spent far too much on booze), the single bottle of good Correllian rum we had bought a year ago and hadn't touched, and a week's worth of instant meals.
I finally had work, but Jol couldn't go on. He had it all lined up to stay on planet as a field mechanic, but didn't mention it until we were settling the new cargo into the hold. After the ramp was pulled up and the airlock cycled, I sank to the floor and cried, the first time I had done so since we had left Balmorra in a rush. The ship was so silent after that; I only started the ship's engines to leave when the silence became so stifling the next day that I couldn't stand it. Hyperspace passed while I was in some sort of numbing void, and when the ship came out of lightspeed, I was Captain Valis instead of Inestra.
Captain Valis didn't have anyone to mourn, and she didn't have a reason to. She was a seasoned professional, everything that one could expect from a smuggler: hungry for riches, good alcohol and a fun time. Captain Valis could talk her way out of any situation; she possessed a silvertongue gilded in half-lies and hidden truths. Yesterday, between assuming the new persona, the loss of my ship and the requests from half of Ord's population, I almost became her entirely. But this morning, while I was still making mental connections, I became Inestra again, and Inestra is the opposite of Captain Valis.
I shut the water off and put on my clothes and the persona of Captain Valis on again: confident almost to the point of arrogance, self-assured, and collected. There are no tears, because there are no emotions to deal with; I become bold, strong, and a force to be reckoned with. Yes, my armor is thicker than any that can be bought, but I can't afford a single chink in it. One bad move, and everyone will see me for the fraud I am, the lie I have no choice but to become.
"Hope you didn't let my caf get cold!" I call as I open the 'fresher door. At least Captain Valis and Inestra both agree that cold caf is horrid. I compose my features into a smile. The cloak of my assumed persona settles against me and I hope that it stays there.
"Don't worry Captain, it's still warm." He presses the mug into my hands. There's that smile again, and my mistake this morning fades and a tiny section of my universe briefly rights itself again. "So about breakfast...what do you want?"
"Other than caf? Let's see," I wrack my brain for the most ridiculous breakfast I can come up with. "Eggs, bacon, hashbrowns," I start, "macaroni, some cold chicken, green beans, some chocolate, and a pot of caf."
"Right..." He laughs, and I find myself laughing too, not just my outside identity, but me, Inestra Valis, daughter of Berk and Lara, the girl with a broken heart hidden deep inside.
For a split second, the world is right and my smile is real, and just a little part of my heart heals.
The conference room-slash-office is comfortably warm, but already full of sunny, natural light. Someone was thoughtful enough to put out some warm cereal for a breakfast, which I'm thankful for, since my stomach is making grumbling noises.
"Morning, Captain!" Viidu's already up and is enjoying what looks to be a second helping of breakfast. He was serious about the "eating like there's no tomorrow", I guess. "Did you sleep ok?"
"Good morning, Viidu," I reply. "I slept like a rock."
"She snores like a Gundark," Riggs teases.
"You snore like two Wookies," I tease back. "I had had an exhausting day, what's your excuse?" I grab a generous serving of the cereal.
"Excuse? I was blasting Seps and lifting heavy cargo while you were running around doing easy errands like finding bird books."
Viidu's smirking at the two of us when we finally sit down. "Alright, you two, that's enough. Captain, what do you say to an extra special job that only you could do?"
"Well, my schedule is pretty open, what is it?" I dump sweetener on the cereal.
"I need you to keep Rogun the Butcher off our backs. Syreena stalled him earlier, but it's not enough. We need to distract Rogun by giving him something he really wants—a canister of some special chemicals from a nearby village."
"Why does this sound suspicious?" I'm dubious, especially because "errand runner" is not on my business card. Or it wouldn't be if I had business cards. Maybe I should get business cards. Do smugglers use business cards?
"Because it is," Riggs cuts in. "The 'Big Boom Run' is blasted risky. I can see it making Rogun's day, but really, boss?"
"C'mon, Riggs, I'm positive I've been in worse situations." Like that time I was running interference while we smuggled two of a particularly vile Hutt's slaves out of his establishment. Hutt kitchens are nasty business.
"You don't understand. People lose their arms and legs on this job, Captain. Heads too." Riggs glares at me.
"You think I haven't poked my head into danger a few times? Where do you think this comes from?" I gesture towards the scar on my chin. "Or this?" I use the hand not occupied with my spoon to lift the fringe from my forehead where a scar sits on my hairline. "I'll be fine." He doesn't look happy with my response. "So what would I be doing, if I chose to run this errand for you?" I leave a tiny amount of emphasis on "errand".
"There's a loopy scientist with a chemical that can supercharge artillery cannons—makes them do more damage."
"But it's less stable than a drunk savrip on a speeder bike. Handle it wrong, and suddenly you're little chunks of ex-captain."
Glare any harder, Riggs, and your face'll get stuck that way.
"Sure it's tricky, but you've got the skill to get it here. Did I mention this run pays unbelievably well?"
Captain Valis should have credit signs in her eyes about now. "I'm on it." Riggs shakes his head.
"Fantastic. I won't even haggle down on your fee. That's how much I respect you." Viidu gestures with open arms. "Trymbo is the scientist's name. Got a place in Oradam village. I'll let him know you're coming."
Our other breakfast guest has finished eating, so he makes to leave. "See me before you make that run, Captain. We should talk."
Thankfully, he's already out the door before the color shows in my face.
"You and Corso seem to be getting along well," Viidu says in a neutral tone.
"He's a good guy," I say. "I can see why you keep him around." There's no way I'm letting Viidu know that I would love to steal him when I get my ship back. Of course, he probably wouldn't leave with me, even if I begged. Or threatened.
"Captain, for your sake and for his, I hope you find your ship." His voice is sad.
"Me too, for all our sakes."
The main floor of the warehouse is huge, and the towering piles of cargo make it even more difficult to find anyone. I'm not about to ask someone where Riggs is, so I fumble around for a while. The air inside the building is comfortably cool and dry (but not too dry), and I can already tell that the day is shaping up to be warm—unpleasantly so—and humid. I'm in no great rush to start this journey.
"Hey, you! Captain-whatsyourname! Corso is wondering where you are!" one of the workers shouts toward me and gestures with his thumb towards the front office.
Riggs is leaning against the door frame when I spot him. Emotion still clouds his eyes, but he seems less upset than he was earlier, thank the stars. He's got his little bits of piecemeal armor and the big blaster rifle strapped back on, and his arms are crossed over his chest.
"Riggs, you're not gonna convince me out of this."
"Captain, I'm not gonna try. But the Big Boom run got its name for a reason: it's no stroll on the beach. You'll need an edge to make it back alive." He reaches in his holster, pulls out a blaster, and holds it out towards me, hilt first. "This here's a SoroSuub SSK heavy blaster. It's cut for a quick draw and got a hair-trigger. I call it 'Flashy'. Flashy's the first blaster I ever owned, and I want you to have it."
His first blaster? Giving it to a complete stranger? And it's named? Who is this Corso Riggs? "I can't take this, Riggs. I've got a good blaster." I pat the holster on my thigh where it sits. Maybe it's a wee bit antique, and certainly not in the pristine condition that this one is in, but it's mine and it fits me and it's mine.
"I've seen that blaster in action, and let me assure you that Flashy is a smoother draw and does far more damage."
I flip the gun and make to return it to him. "I can't take your first blaster. But I'd be willing to take you along. I seem to remember you complaining about missing all the fun last night." I cock my hip and place my fist on it.
"I'd love to, Captain, but I can't. I've got work to do. Just take Flashy, please. I'll breathe a lot easier knowing you're ready for anything."
The tone in his voice makes me think of the way we used to talk to each other on the ship. "You got your blaster, sweetie?" Pa used to call every time I left the ship. Uncle Ze would ask if I was trying to give my father a heart-attack whenever I said "no, just dropping to the corner store". The friendly concern in Riggs' voice reminds me of my family and makes my next words a little difficult to say smoothly. "If it means that much to you, I'll borrow it for a while."
"Good enough," he says with a chuckle. "Best of luck, Captain."
"You too, Riggs."
Outside the cool of the climate-controlled building, the day is already hot and the sun is doing its damndest to bleach the color out of everything while just adding more freckles to my face. Fort Garnik is bustling with activity, but none of the locals seem to mind the sun or the heat. I use my hand to shade my eyes and look at the map Viidu provided me with yesterday. Oradam Village is about two hours' hike to the northwest, provided I'm not waylaid or held up.
Of course, I'm about a third of the way there and protocol droid waylays me. When it mentions that it was trying to fix generators, I jump at the chance to play mechanic. Celestra is understandably frustrated, and her temper is a little short, but without my tool set, I'd be murderous. It dawns on me that I am without my tool set, and I have every intent of killing the bastard who took it (and my ship) from me.
Once the tools are recovered, I kneel down next to the generator and help her fix it. "Your accent isn't local, how'd you wind up on Ord?" she asks as I twist a couple of wires together, thankful for the heavy leather gloves on my hands.
I'm not about to tell her the real story, so I make up a little something on the spot. "Y'know how the Separatists are threatening to blow this world up? I got called in to run some supplies to outlying villages." I even managed to get a little bit of truth in there. Sort of.
"A smuggler?"
"A professional supplies and matériel delivery expert, if you will. What about you?"
"Mechanical work for the Republic. If it breaks, I fix it. Everything from speeder bikes to droid parts. Unfortunately, I'm jury-rigging more and more these days." She shakes her head. "Good mechanics are getting harder and harder to come by. If the smuggling thing gets boring, we could use a hand like yours."
"I'm too attached to the stars to live planetside for long," I laugh. "Besides, my paycheck is better and I have more fun."
"More fun than getting shot at by Separatists, yelled at by pushy soldiers and never having the right supplies? I can't imagine it." She finishes tightening a blot with the spanner. "And there we go!" The generator whirrs back into life, and the sound is the best thing I've heard in a while. It sounds a little like home. I sniff. Allergies must be getting to me. This would be the first place I've had allergies.
"I'm going to be off, now. Nice to meet you, Captain..."
"Valis. Nice to do business with you, Celestra."
The beach west of village is lovely, if not my kind of place. The water is the perfect temperature for swimming, but after my fiasco with wet clothes and shivering yesterday, I'm avoiding any and all bodies of water. The sand doesn't try to scald me through my boots, which is a blessing, but it also is blindingly white, and adds heat to the already warm air.
"The walk out is lovely," Trymbo's wife said. "The beach is so relaxing," she said. Between these blasted scavengers and the heat, I'm not sure if I'm even on the same beach.
The scavengers are determined to shoot anything that moves, and I've already got the blaster cannon supercharge-chemicals, so between the scavengers, the heat, and the unstable chemicals, I'm more paranoid than a spice addict in withdrawal. The sun is at midday, which gives me minimal shade for sneaking around in, and the roughly four hours of sleep I got last night are making my thoughts start to lag. Every hundred or so paces, I pull my binocs out of a jacket pocket and scout the terrain ahead. Once out of the scavengers' territory, the trails are almost empty. Empty or not, I can't afford to get jostled, much less shot at, so I take footpaths and side trails, even attempt to make my own way once (and get turned around). Yesterday, the errands were quick: go in, give the message, get the stuff, get out. I was out all day and well into the wee hours of the morning, but nothing was overly strenuous. Today, the hike is far longer on a straight path, and my cargo makes the hike take longer. I force myself to think of the credits I'll gain if I make it back alive. Provisions, a nice meal, maybe some upgrades await me on the other side of Fort Garnik's wall. More accurately, the provisioning and upgrades await once I've got the Shadow back, but I can still get myself a nice meal and some drinks on this rock.
My chrono reads 1730 when I tip-toe back into Rendia Freight. Sneaking the chemicals past the Republic troops and security forces proved a bit of a trick, one involving climbing a hill, finding a drain pipe (thankfully, it's mostly dry), and removing the grate at the other side.
"Viidu, I'm back!" I call, voice sing-song, into his office. "And I got a present for you!"
"Woah, Captain, be careful." He gestures dramatically for me to stop. "I've got a storage unit over here to stabilize the canister so it doesn't blow." I move to place the canister in the unit. "Easy does it...easy...There we go..."
"From what I've been told, we'll still want to be real careful with it."
"Don't worry. This canister is safer than a Senator's daughter in a room full of Jedi.
"Getting Trymbo's chemicals saved out necks, Captain. Rogun will be too busy selling them to think about the blasters."
"Or so we hope," I interject. Without clear objective, my mind wanders back to the more pessimistic places it's been inhabiting in the past month.
"So what did you think of Trymbo?" Maybe Viidu sees some sign in my expression, or maybe he just wants to make small talk.
"You said 'loopy'." I finger-quote the word. "He's a few freighters short of a convoy. More than a few."
Viidu laughs. "I know what you mean. Every time I talk to him, he thinks I'm his great-grandfather who crashed into a black hole."
"He thought I was trying to escape marriage. Not sure if that's any better. Any luck slicing the data?" I pick up a piece of fruit and toss it from hand to hand.
"We're getting there, but the Separatists don't just possess several layers of security protocols, their encryption looks like it's double key based."
"Yuck. They must really want their personnel files kept private, sheesh." Double key encryption takes a long time to break, if you can break it at all. Every person with access has two keys. One key has an identity code and a reader program; the other key has an identity verification script and has the cryptokey for writing. The upside is that you need both keys to interact with the system, and every person has a unique pair of codes, so the system is very secure. In fact, the Holonet uses a variation on double key encryption for its encryption procedures. The downside is that you generally need two unique codes for every system you interact with, so it's easy to lose a key or use the wrong key on a system. I've seen data security professionals and professional slicers with a couple of storage boxes of keys, and it's not uncommon. The only way I know of to break the encryption, when you don't have either key, is to do a forceful raw data dump and then run the raw data trough a collection of encrypt/decrypt algorithms until the AI gets enough information to create a cryptokey.
"Do you have either cryptokey?" I ask. One cryptokey of the pair can speed things up significantly.
"We were able to, ahem, convince a Republic officer to give us a couple pairs of cryptokeys that were pulled from dead Separatists. We're still trying to break through the last layers of security protocols, and then we'll know if they're any good. Even if they're not," Viidu says, "if you have enough pairs of cryptokeys, you can find the root key generation numbers."
"I hadn't heard that." My education in slicing is pretty rudimentary, mostly how to forge a landing record, do an information dump, run an encrypt/decrypt program, fake credentials, and open a lockbox. Any tools I learned with are most likely outdated at this point.
"Let me know when you find it. If it starts taking a long while, I'll head back into Mannett Point and pull a couple of fresh key pairs." I take a bite of the fruit. It's ripe and properly tangy.
"I hope it doesn't come to that," Viidu says uncomfortably. "I really hope it doesn't come to that."
A/N: Some eagle-eyes will probably spot that I used some of Corso's dialogue with the male smuggler in the Flashy conversation. It just seemed to fit better in the story I'm trying to tell.
The concept of double-key encryption is shamelessly borrowed from the idea of public key/private key encryption, which is a real thing. It's almost impossible to break because it's a complicated thing, and (at least to me) it's pretty cool.
If anyone would like to see a little sketch I did of 'Nes and Corso, I've got one here: post/94192324621/as-promised-the-art-i-made-at-2am-last-night-my
Please let me know about chapter length. I feel like these are really long chapters (3,000+ works a pop), and I'm not sure if they should be broken up more.