Lineage IV
12.
Obi Wan waited glumly in the doorframe while Siri tried every possible channel and amplifier sequence.
"That's it," she grunted in exasperation. "Not a single blasted signal relay survived. The storm must have blown all the external receivers."
"What about a beacon?" he asked.
She swivelled. "What good would that do?"
He crossed his arms defensively. "Master Jinn taught me how to use an emergency beacon signal to carry a coded message from a comlink."
Siri raised her brows. "Message-in-a-bottle? That's not going to help us, Kenobi. Alepo Sator's going to be livid – all the comm equipment needs to be repaired, and I don't think the Corps has enough spare parts for this much damage."
He wandered into the dim control room, dissatisfied. "Wonderful."
Siri Tachi tipped her head to one side. "It's my problem," she told him. "You can still pull weeds and spread chisszk without the comm center."
He turned on his heel.
"Wait!" Siri rose from her station and hurried after him. "I'm sorry – that wasn't – I mean, I shouldn't have said that. I don't mean it."
He stopped on the threshold, irritation warring with forgiveness. He was sorely tempted to point out that her communications problem extended far beyond the fried circuits in the Ag Corps station…. But in the end he swallowed down the jibe and turned back into the small room. "What did you mean, then?" he demanded, not willing to let her off the hook entirely.
Siri Tachi did possess a heart, somewhere beneath the prickles and barbs of her exterior. She uncurled a very little. "I'm sorry," she repeated, exhaling slowly. The Force eddied, smoothed. "I want so very badly to handle this well… for Master Gallia. It's the first time I've been on my own." A blush spread over her face, and she looked away.
Oh. His arms came uncrossed. "I understand," he said, stepping back into the dark space.
She raised reluctant eyes to his, and dredged up a snort of laughter. "You? I thought you were here because you think you're ready to take to the galaxy single-handed without guidance?"
That was unfair. He frowned, wondering whence she had derived that notion. And then he brushed it aside. Pride cared about such things. In the moment, he was working toward understanding, like a good diplomat. "I would very much like to speak with Master Jinn right now," he confessed.
It seemed to work. Siri brightened almost immediately, strangely emboldened by his show of vulnerability. "Let's try that comlink trick," she said, tugging him forward by the hand. "Maybe we can reach them."
A shared purpose was a welcome relief from vague anxiety; and while their efforts ultimately ended in failure, and a risky depletion of the emergency beacon's power reserves, they did at least have a mutually calming effect. They had just given up on the fruitless project when Alepo Sator made an appearance.
"What's the bad news?" he grumbled.
Siri grimaced. "I'm afraid all the comm relays will have to be replaced. Are there spares on site?"
The botanist shook his head and shoved long hands into the grimy pockets of his work-apron with a low whistle. "Normally, we'd send a courier for supplies from the spaceport, but I'd bet my last credit they're hard put to fix their own damage. That storm was a son of a gundark. Farked the blazes outta us, that's for sure. And the evac people won't come in 'till we can give them an all clear signal. – if they even made it into orbit before the storms hit. We need comms, vape it."
"We could stil send a courier," Obi Wan offered. "I'll go. Even if there's a secondary storm, I can handle the speeder in high winds."
"That's kind of you, lad, but we might have a better option. I was speaking to one of the refugees here –retired engineer, apparently. Choollo's his name. He thinks he can strip some circuits off the wreck. That's closer than the spaceport and worth a try."
The two young Jedi stood, eager for action.
"Right," Alepo ordered. "You two take him out there, give him a hand with whatever he needs, and get back here double-quick. Got it?"
"You can rely on us," Siri promised, as they jogged out the door on their way to find Choollo, and a solution.
Qui Gon watched their helpful reptilian friend slink away across the hangar deck, the Rebuplic transponder beacon codes transcribed onto a data chit tucked inside his expensive jacket's breast pocket.
"That, technically, was a grand felony," Adi Gallia remarked dryly behind him.
He raised his brows. "Until next month, when the codes are routinely updated," he pointed out. "I'll ride out the statute of limitations."
The Tholothian tsked under her breath, likely wondering how many such technical misdemeanors the redoubtable Master Jinn had to his credit. Qui Gon did not offer further information, and she turned back to the shipboard database. "Found him," she announced a moment later. "Chucabra Yollo. Matarraxi- humanoid, often Force-opaque like Hutts…. He's a known crime syndicate boss, but there's indication his operation in thisi sector was recently ousted by Hutt interests. Probably Virmma's people."
"That would explain Virmma's refusal to cooperate."
Adi leaned over the scrolling display. "He's quiet – organizes things from a distance. There is not sufficient evidence of his involvement in anything to merit prosecution – he is referred to as the Old Gentleman of the Underworld… why he would choose to ally himself with a madman like Carthag is beyond me."
"Do not underestimate the malice of kind old gentlemen," Qui Gon advised her. "Appearances can be deceiving." He sat at the second terminal, which he had earlier linked to the spaceport's main traffic control system. Results flashed across the holo-display. He scanned through the numerous columns of departing flights, hundreds and hundreds of possibilities shimmering in tiny font above the projector plate.
"Terminal seven is a busy place," Adi sighed.
Qui Gon froze in place, and stopped the swiftly moving columns of information. "Here," he said, jaw clenching.
Adi leaned over his shoulder. "Reported missing – presumed malfunction – where was that ship headed?"
They compared the hyperspace navigation charts to the passenger ship's intended itinerary. "No," Adi gasped, her hand tightening around the edge of the console.
But they both knew there was no coincidence in the Force.
"This had better be good," Siri warned. "It's freezing up here."
'I'll wait in the speeder," Choollo smiled. "You young folks have fun, but make it quick, if you don't mind."
"It's worth the trip," Obi Wan promised, leading Siri up the incline, along the swell of rocky land skirting the more established forest. They crested the last swell, and dipped down onto the hill's far side, where the peerless vista opened below, a verdant sanctuary of soaring cliffs and tumbling waterfalls, ice-clad peaks and soft valleys lush with dark, enticing foliage.
Siri's stunned breath escaped in a thin white vapor-cloud. Her eyes shone to match the wind-swept skies. "Beautiful," she agreed.
"Come see this, too," he urged, beckoning her along the narrow foot-path, the one leading to Qui Gon's pet project.
"It has tentacles," Siri remarked, taking a cautious step backward. "And teeth."
"It's quite friendly," Obi Wan assured her, "…So long as you weigh over ten kilos." As though to demonstrate his sincerity , a few stray tendrils began their customary amicable climb up his legs, coiling and slithering upward, poking at his chest and trying to insert themselves into his ears. He swatted and wriggled his way free of the most inquisitive appendages. "No snacks today," he informed it.
One or two tentacles made a tentative foray in Siri's direction, prodding at her boots and kneecaps. One bold tendril slid up her front, nudging experimentally at her collarbone and chin. Her lip curled, but she endured the examination quietly. There was a moment's thoughtful pause… and then the green limbs convulsed, shoving her backward with a brassy snap. Siri landed skidding on her backside.
Smothering his incipient laughter behind one hand, Obi Wan dashed forward to help her – only to find himself fettered in place by his acquaintance's obstreperous tentacles. It took a moment's protracted struggle to free himself from the firm restraint of their embrace, and by that time Siri had found her own feet again.
"It's as friendly as you are," she observed, with a touch of churlishness.
"It's never done that before," he replied, helplessly.
Her eyes narrowed, and her fingers brushed her saber hilt. "And it will never do it again, either," she growled.
Obi Wan decided to salvage what he could of this diplomatic debacle. "The view is beautiful," he reminded her, leading the way down the path to the speeder, where Choollo patiently awaited their return.
In answer, she brushed past him and continued down the narrow trail at a smart clip, her long cloak skirling irritably at her heels.
The hulking ruins of the passenger cruiser were decked with icicles, lovely webs of frosting clinging to the darkened hull shielding. Obi Wan pulled the speeder to a halt beside the sculptured mass of metal.
Choollo leaned forward from the back row, laying a hand upon either Padawan's shoulder. "Look at that," he sighed. "It reminds me how fragile is life. Let me give you two youngsters some wisdom gleaned over many years. Seize the day. You never know when it might be your last."
The young Jedi exchanged a bemused look.
Their companion chuckled deprecatingly. "Just the ravings of an old man. But better to reach out and grasp what you can, before cruel fate rips it away, hm?"
"We came here to salvage circuits for the comm. unit at the Ag Corps," Siri reminded him tartly. "The philosophy lesson can wait." She swung herself over the vehicle's side.
"Oh ho, a practical minded woman," the old gentleman chuffed. "Watch out, young sir, such a lass always gets her way in the end."
Obi Wan did not deign to make reply. Instead he held out a hand to help their would-be guru clamber out of the speeder.
"All right, then," Choollo instructed, rubbing his hands together in the bitter air. "Ah.." he addressed Siri. "Why don't you check the starboard cargo-hold bulkheads? The extra insulation back there might have preserved the wiring from damage during the explosion. Oh dear… you may need a fusion cutter to get through the plastoid."
Siri Tachi hefted her 'saber in one hand. "I'm well equipped."
Choollo nodded, waving her away. "See if there's anything to be stripped. I don't care what it belongs to – just any bit of cable. Now, my young friend, why don't you help me with the forward transponder?"
Obi Wan looked dubiously toward the charred and mangled bows of the liner. "I don't think anything survived the initial impact," he said.
But Choollo quieted him with a dismissive gesture. "You'd be surprised what can survive a crash like this. These transponder boxes are designed to take a beating – the authorities can recover last flight trajectories and so on, that way… helps with litigation and insurance issues, nothing you Jedi would be concerned about…"
They tramped along beneath the ruined hull, to the far end of the wreck. Obi Wan sucked in a sharp breath.
"Here, see if you can cut off this – what's the matter now?" the grizzle haired man asked.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
"What 's wrong –" Choollo exclaimed.
"Siri!" Obi Wan cried out, leaping back toward the crushed cargo hold, scattering grit and frost beneath his boots, his 'saber hilt leaping into his hand.
He leapt, heart hammering, into the open aft hatchway, his weapon spitting blue fire, sweeping a warning arc through the gloom. Siri was sprawled face-down upon the decks, her hair glimmering ghostly against the rumpled folds of her cloak. Danger and sudden lightning flared across the Force, tautened his every nerve. He slid forward, seeking for a hidden foe, seeing and feeling nothing, no one lurking in the shadows. Siri was a pace away, unmoving. He pivoted, weapon thrumming in warning. Nothing. No one.
He dropped to one knee, reached out his left hand to touch her arm… and triggered the same hidden electro-pulse field that she had.
Instant black oblivion followed close upon the initial jolt of agony. He collapsed atop Siri's still form, his weapon's hilt rolling from slack fingers.
That seems like a good place to stop, doesn't it? Traveling this weekend.. next update Tues 8/7/12. -r.b.