Chapter 13

Planet - Pantora

"Deesix, can you pass me the third socket plug, please?", Caloc twisted under the ship, reaching for the fuel line, "It's cracked. I think that the rushed take off may have put a bit of stress on the alloy."

R4-D6 looked down at the pile of parts from the ship and beeped a disgruntled reply. Caloc sighed, "Well if there isn't a spare third socket, then give me a second socket plug. I can make it work. Also, can you plug into the engines and try to clear out the fans. They sounded… wrong."

The astromech hung his head. Stass leant herself against one of the nearby crates, watching her padawan with his head stuffed underneath the angular starfighter. Honestly, he just needed to learn to relax. As the droid had said, there was nothing wrong with the fighter. If the third socket plug was cracked, it meant that it was faulty, but there were still another three failsafe sockets in place.

She reached over to get her canteen, shuffling through her satchel. Instead of the leather canteen, her hand grabbed something round… and cold. She looked down, and found her hand in the wrong bag. It was Caloc's. She pulled out the device, a small fold out circle of digit-cloth. "Caloc, what is this?"

A loud grunt sounded as Caloc rolled out from under the ship. He looked up at the small cylinder. "Oh, that's Master Zao's portable dejarik board. He and I used to play over lunch when I was a youngling. He gave it to me when I became your padawan. Said that I might find your tactics boring."

Choosing to ignore that, Stass unfurled the old cloth board and pressed one of the buttons on the side of the controls. The tiny figurines flicking to holographic life. "I used to play with Tress. He always won, using a technique he learned from his own teacher. He used to boast whenever he won. Their fighting styles were very different, but Tress always said their games were the greatest entertainment he had."

Rubbing a rag over his bare arms, Caloc walked over and knelt on the opposite her. "You go first."

The drink was sour. It bubbled constantly. It made his inside feel warm, which helped to ease the pain in his right shoulder from a raid two days before. He sipped at the drink, swishing the thick brew around his mouth before swallowing. Corellian Whisky, one of the more potent drinks in the galaxy. How he relished the warmth it brought his stomach. To his right, a fire crackled in the crumbling, ruined fireplace. In his opinion, the heat it generated was nothing compared to a good bottle of thick, potent whisky. A drum in the corner held the rest of the alcohol, and he dipped his mug back in, filling it again.

A loud beeping came from the table on the other side of the room, and he clicked the commlink on his wrist, before realising that he hadn't bothered to see who it was that had called him, and more importantly, that he didn't care. The hologram that flickered into existence above the table was a mild annoyance to him, and he wanted to go back to a night drinking the constant pain that covered his skin away.

"Go away.", he spat out before he drained the mug in a single gulp, "I'm busy."

"Apparently so, Agent Tarrok.", a thin voice whispered through the device, "Busy draining a stolen barrel of alcohol."

The man's eyes widened, and he sat up straighter. If not for the alcohol in his system, he would have leapt to attention, but right now, all he could manage was a straighter sitting position. He blinked for a minute as the hologram took form in his eyes.

"What do you want?", he groaned, rubbing them hard.

The hologram rolled her eyes, "I want information about our master's investment on Pantora. We need this deal. Is your target dead yet?"

"Got a problem, has he?", To his knowledge, all the missions had gone as planned. There was admittedly no dead target, but that would be dealt with in time.

"The other operations are going ahead as planned, and your distractions are helping with that. But he has plans. Plans that cannot continue as long as your target remains at large."

"All right.", Tarrok waved the banshee's screams away from him, "I'll move to the capitol. That's where our man has fled. He left Simbit behind after we got too close to his estate."

That did not seem to appease the hologram. "A droid has reached my position with more information from our master. It seems that the Republic is sending a small fleet to assist the Pantorans. Mostly medical supplies, but there is one military cruiser."

Tarrok frowned at that. Medical ships would need to land, and could become easy targets, but…, "A cruiser? You're sure? That doesn't sound like the peaceful Republic."

"It's the hypocrisy of their failed Senate.", the hologram spat out, "They preach peace by sending the relief aid, yet warrant war by sending the navy's capitol ships."

"What does the Count want me to do about it?", Tarrok slurred the question, but he was serious.

"If they send a warship to warrant war, then we will give them a taste of what is to come. As part of their mission, the Jedi have sent scouts ahead. They will have already arrived on the orbital station. Send an agent to keep them occupied while you attack the frigates. The cruiser cannot fire while the ships are inside the city. This shall ruin the Republic's chances of gaining any trust in this sector."

The Tholothian set down his whiskey, "I can send Luuil. She is the best sniper I have here. But how do we attack the medical frigates?"

"Your specialty is explosives, correct?", the thin voice asked, "We require them once more."

"Good to hear.", Tarrok grinned like a madman. It was possible that the alcohol had effected his mind slightly. He couldn't stop a quiet of chuckle of amusement at this situation.

"I want you to take them out.", the hologram looked down at him, "Make sure you succeed, or they will find you, and kill you. We still have need for you in our organisation. Meanwhile, we will ensure that the Republic cannot call for more aid."

"I understand, and I look forward to the day when we can see each other in person once more.", the hologram suddenly dissipated without warning as it shut off, and he frowned at the abruptness of it. "Time to get to work."

The K'lor'slug lunged forward, decimating Stass' Monnok. She frowned at the board, rubbing her chin. Her padawan had made a move that was almost impossible to come back from. Almost. Clicking the buttons, she moved her Ghhhk over towards Caloc's Houjix, following the hologram's defeat with a cry of: "Beat that!"

Caloc frowned in contemplation as he studied the board, his fingers hovering over the buttons that controlled his figurines. "You play just like Master Zao."

"Well who do you think taught me to beat Tress?", Stass chuckled, "You can't beat me."

"We shall… argh!"

A red blaster bolt shot across the platform, slamming into Caloc's exposed shoulder. The padawan went flying back, crashing into one of the piles of crates. He cried out as he felt it burn through the skin, sizzling against the muscle. Stass blinked, the bolt so unexpected that she nearly didn't feel the Force nudge her. Grabbing her lightsaber from her belt, she ignited the green blade. In a single smooth movement, she rolled from her sitting position, placed her hand out to push her up and flipped over Deesix to deflect the next bolt as it sped towards her wounded apprentice. She glanced back at Caloc. "You alright?"

"Fine!", Caloc grunted, watching as the blue veins of the limb reattached themselves and tendons growing, the flesh healing far more rapidly than was naturally possible. "The Klipton is healing itself already."

"I still find that really disgusting!", Stass casually deflected another bolt as she watched the wound in fascinated horror. It reminded her of the undead holofilms she and Adi Gallia used to watch.

He moved the joint experimentally. "The Klipton seems to be holding. Where do you want me?"

Stass deflected the next few bolts, grunting with the effort. "They must have a silencer equipped. I can't hear a shot anywhere. I'll draw their attention, you flank them. Think you can stealth your way across the platform?"

Caloc lifted one of the grates that led below the platform. "I think that I can manage that."

Stass deflected another bolt, grunting with the effort. These blaster bolts were something unique, probably equipped with some modification to the energy regulators. They seemed to disperse like an ion charge when she slashed through them. She glanced behind her and found the platform empty behind her, the heavy grate already back in place. "Make it quick."

The stench of fuel clung to Caloc's nose. Thankfully, he had dropped into one of the refuelling lines, and not one of the sewerage ones. The strong liquid climbed about a half inch up Caloc's boots. The fumes made his eyes water a bit. Ships would connect to these tubes to let their old fuel out, and refuelled using tanks magnetically connected to the hull of the platform. Those tanks would be replaced, before travelling to the nearest depot to refuel once used up. It was lucky that there was no ship using this tube now, to be honest. He stomped through the shallow level of fuel, towards the tanks that collected the old fuel for recycling. Spinning his lightsaber in his palm, he looked down at it, studying the leather-bound hilt. He rubbed the Jedi symbol embedded in the reek's hide grip, and frowned. This symbol had pulled him through the agonising time of his recovery, reminding him of where he belonged in the Order. Of who he was. Of who he could be.

The stench of fuel was getting stronger, and looking down, he noticed that the fuel had gotten deeper. It lapped almost halfway up his thigh now. Any deeper, and he would start making noticeable noise as he sloshed forward. Where was that sniper?

Pfvvt.

He stopped. The sound had been so quiet that he almost thought he hadn't heard it. He closed his eyes and tried to focus.

Pfvvt!

It was coming from just up ahead, and he quickened his pace, still making sure to keep his steps high and avoid noise.

Pfvvt!

Looking up, he found a pile of crates, and standing right behind the stack was a woman in a black cloak, long sniper rifle resting on a stand that leant on the top crate. As he watched, she pulled the trigger and again, he heard the quiet noise once more.

"So, this is our culprit.", he told himself.

"No duh.", the voice in his head answered, "Now you need to stop her."

Raising his hand upwards, he pushed out with the Force. The cloaked woman paused for a minute, a sixth sense telling her something was wrong. Then she was suddenly sent flying through the air, followed by the grating she had been standing on. Caloc leapt onto the platform, watching as she collapsed on the ground a few meters away. She looked up, and he saw that she had a black mask over her face, made of some kind of simmering scales. She spat something at him and spoke a phrase in a foreign dialogue.

Caloc rolled his eyes and spoke slowly, enunciating his words with gestures, "I… can't… understand… you."

"I know that, fool.", the woman snarled, clearly insulted, "I was insulting you."

Caloc shrugged, "Figured that would be it. But I was kinda hoping you might just be asking where the shooting gallery was. I mean, this isn't it."

The woman stared at him confused by his calm manner. "You are scrawny. Weak. Yet you hold that pole with confidence. I take it you are here to defend the Jedi!"

"Not exactly.", the blue blade hummed to life in Caloc's hand. "I am Jedi."

Swinging his blade across his body, he adjusted his stance; legs at a shoulder's width apart and balancing on the balls of his feet. His blade angled across his body, the glow of plasma illuminating his features. The woman let out an animalistic growl and leapt forward, her hands grabbing two short-range pistols from beneath the cloak. Blaster bolts zipped through the air, and he sidestepped the first three. Swinging his blade forward, he sent the fourth shot flying back at the woman, then leapt over another aimed a little too low for comfort.

"Hey!", he levelled his blade at her, "Watch where you aim those things! You almost hit me."

She just laughed at that, a cruel clicking sound, like rock's rolling down a hill. He raised an eyebrow. Only one species he knew laughed like that. A Duros. They could laugh normally, but this was the sincerest sound of enjoyment they could make. This woman had clearly been looking for a challenge for a while. And now she had found it. Spinning the blade to deflect another shot, he pushed out with the Force and sent her flying backward into some stacked up fuel canisters. They went flying as she sprawled amongst them. Sprinting across the platform to her, he kicked the blaster's out of her hand.

"You just attempted to kill to Jedi in broad daylight.", he growled in a whisper, his mouth mere millimetres from her ear. "Why?"

The Duros removed her mask. "I am Luuil. I was sent to take you out so that you could not warn them."

"Warn who?", Stass asked, appearing at their side. Her own blade materialised an inch from the woman's throat.

A loud rumble sounded through the air, and both Jedi looked up in time to see the Resurrection drop out of hyperspace. A series of quieter rumbles echoes across the sky as the Pelta-class medical frigates dropped out behind the dagger-shaped cruiser. Then three more Consular-class frigates dropped out behind them.

"You're too late.", Luuil laughed again, forcing the Jedi to cover their ears. "I have succeeded."

One of the cruiser's banked sharply down, trying to cut through the atmosphere as quickly as it could. It would level out once through and head for the landing pad it was assigned. Caloc grabbed the woman's cloak. "What do you mean? Succeeded at what?"

She laughed even louder, "Oh, I'll never tell."

"We can make you talk.", he pressed.

"But can you make a corpse talk?", she grinned further

And with that, she pressed a button on her belt and exploded.