5/13/23: Edited and chapter order swapped

Chapter 15
Virtue's Boldness

The alarm vibrated at 0200. Dash had lost the toss and was on the floor, wrapped in the poncho. He nudged Hex, who woke with a jerk. Both men froze at the creak of the bed. After a moment, they relaxed when there was no sound from the other side of the room. Poor girl. What kind of quarters did she usually sleep in?

Dash's wrath at her treatment had not abated. She was one of the dancers who had performed the night they arrived—the one who had tumbled and pirouetted so fearlessly. He loathed himself for the way the image of her sinuous dancing lingered in his mind, in spite of his efforts to erase it. With a surge of irritation he grabbed his case and forced his mind to their next task. He might not be able to prevent images of her from rising up, but he didn't have to dwell on them.

The men crept to the door, grateful for the static generator still crackling away next to the intercom. Unfortunately, the gears ground as the door opened.

A squeak emanated from the other bed. "Master Pligu. I'm sorry. I'm coming."

Dash murmured, "He's not here. You can go back to sleep."

"What? The door…"

"We opened it. We're going to—get some water."

Her chain clinked. Though the light from the hall was too dim to see her, Dash thought she might be sitting on the edge of the bed. "You can't! The master's guards patrol the halls. They'll kill you if they catch you wandering around. I will get the water."

Dash knelt beside her. Hex closed the door. "Did Jabba put you here to keep an eye on us?"

"I don't know." Her voice was tiny in the darkness.

"Does he use you and the other girls as spies?" Hex sank down next to Dash.

"Spies?"

"Does he ask you about the men? The ones you're sent to?" Dash tried to phrase the question circumspectly.

"Sometimes Pligu does." Her voice was hesitant. "He likes to hear what clients liked."

So this Pligu was a pervert, but it was likely he was also keeping tabs on what untrusted guests did. "Do you have to tell him if the, er, clients left while you were with them?"

"Yes," she whispered. "I will have to tell him if you go out and how long you were gone."

Dash hesitated. The mission now balanced on a knife's edge. There would be no chance to complete this part of the plan tomorrow. Kraytrider had insisted that destruction of the records was essential; they had to do this tonight. Yet if Yenzon reported their absence, the entire operation might fail. On the other hand, his gut told him she could be a trustworthy ally. There was no way to tell how traumatized she was or what Jabba's minions might do to compel her to talk. But if she could hold out twenty-four hours, it would all be over. He just hoped this didn't cost her life.—or theirs…

He threw the dice. "Yenzon, we're here for something very important. Jabba will kill us if he finds out. And now you too. I'm sorry. We didn't mean to put you in danger. I know what I'm asking is hard—I'm going to ask anyway. Please don't tell anyone we left. We'll be back before morning, and we'll do everything we can to protect you."

"What are you doing?"

"I can't say. You can't tell what you don't know. If anyone asks, that's what you say—you don't know. You woke up and we were gone."

She made a sound that might have been a smothered whimper.

"I know. If you have to say anything, you're probably dead. I'm so sorry—I wish it was different. We have to do this. I promise you, though—If it works, Jabba won't ever bother you again."

There was a quick inhalation. "The Grand Assembly. We heard the rumors. They're true?" Her voice was eager.

"Rumors?" Hex asked.

"Freedom will come on Boonta Eve. With the Grand Assembly. The Great Krayt will bring freedom to the slaves."

"I—hadn't heard that," Hex said. "Does Jabba know?"

"No. Or he would have killed us all instead of letting so much as one slave escape."

"Well, I hope it's happening. But, no, that's not—we're not here to free slaves. Unfortunately."

A part of the puzzle of this mission resolved in Dash's mind. "Actually—I think we are," he said slowly. "Freed slave."

"What?" Hex asked.

"Kraytrider's contact info—on the message board. Part of it was a hexadecimal string—It meant freed slave."

"Krayt Rider?" Yenzon whispered, almost too hushed to be heard, even in the silent darkness. "The Krayt Rider is coming?"

"Um. I suppose so. You know him?" Hex asked.

"He's the freedom-bringer. All the stories say so. The Krayt Rider escapes his master so he can help other slaves."

"Stories?" Dash was fascinated, but time was slipping away. "Never mind—we don't have time to talk right now. Will you protect us?"

"Yes." Her voice was the most confident they had heard. "I will come with you. I will help."

"No. You don't even know what we're doing."

"I can guide you. I know corridors only slaves use. There will be no guards."

Hex started to protest; Dash laid a hand on his arm. Time was flying. "All right. If you want. But it will be very dangerous for you. Especially once you know what we're doing."

"I won't tell anyone. No matter what they do to me. You are agents of the Krayt Rider."

Dash had never heard such raw hope in someone's voice. Whatever Kraytrider meant to her, it was much more than their employer's name. "All right." He sighed. "A path without guards to the administrative section next to Fortuna's office would be very helpful."

The bed groaned as she rose. In the corridor she flitted ahead of them to peer around a corner. She had secured her chain in some manner Dash hadn't seen and was remarkably silent as they followed her through several turns. Although Dash tried to keep track, in moments he was hopelessly disoriented. He would never be able to find his way back to their room. Their safety and success now lay entirely in Yenzon's hands.

She had just signaled it was time to move again when she stiffened, retreating into a small alcove near the junction with a more brightly-lit corridor. Dash and Hex obeyed her sharp gesture and pressed in beside her. A clamor of drunken laughter and stumbling steps rang out.

The three of them would be visible the moment anyone rounded the corner.

Someone in the party bellowed something raucous in Huttese and staggered toward their hallway. Jeers and catcalls followed, accompanied by scuffling. The drunk was dragged away from them down the main corridor. Yenzon relaxed, but she did not move until the echoes of revelry had completely faded in the distance.

"Now," she said in a sharp whisper and darted down the corridor, her bare feet noiseless against the stone. To Dash's anxious ears, his own boots thundered like an AT-AT lumbering across a battlefield. They ran almost thirty meters before Yenzon disappeared into another small alcove. This one had no light and the gap was so small they probably would have overlooked it without a guide.

The alcove turned out not to be an alcove at all, but a painfully narrow corridor. While they huddled against the wall to allow their breathing to slow, heavy footsteps approached. Dash looked to the girl, who shook her head and gestured they should remain still. A patrol of Gamorrean guards passed the narrow opening and continued down the hall. The moment they were out of sight, though not out of earshot, Yenzon started deeper into the gloom.

The passageway, which easily accommodated her slight frame, forced Dash and Hex to crouch and twist slightly sideways. Their cases knocked repeatedly against the walls. The way was dark, dim glowpanels every ten meters providing the only illumination, and the air was fetid. After perhaps ten or fifteen meters, doors appeared on either side. They were old-fashioned swinging doors with a small, glassless window fitted with metal bars. Within there was a rustle of movement and occasional soft words. People lived here?

Dash tapped Yenzon on the shoulder. "Who is in these rooms?"

"Household slaves," she whispered. "Do not worry; the doors have been locked for the night. The keepers will not come back until sunrise."

Dash didn't know whether to scream or weep. Kraytrider's plans had better include freeing these people or he was going to come back and do it himself.

They traveled for what seemed ages through the rank passageway until they reached an equally narrow staircase. Yenzon led them down, which seemed entirely the wrong direction to Dash, but he had placed his trust in her. It was too late to change his mind.

The staircase led them into the service area, lined with the kitchens and storerooms. She held her fingers to her lips as they drew near a curtained doorway. They slowed almost to a crawl. Hex's case clunked against the wall. Yenzon whirled with a scowl. A guttural voice said something inside the room. Yenzon gestured sharply and ducked into a storeroom. She practically shoved them into the farthest corner. Even with her form nearly indistinguishable in the dim light, her frown was apparent. Obediently, he sank down beside Hex and breathed as silently as he could.

Someone massive tramped past and two voices spoke in a guttural language he didn't recognize. It soon became evident they were making their way up and down the corridor, investigating the noise. A Gamorrean shuffled past the doorway, poked his head into the room—huge body silhouetted against the dim light—then shambled back the way he had come. The three crouched in the darkness for what seemed an eternity. Dash's legs had begun to protest before Yenzon whispered, "Gamorreans have keen ears but they do not see well. They are so stupid."

"That's fine by me," said Hex with a huff that could have been a nervous laugh. "I'll take stupidity any day. Sorry about the case."

She dismissed the apology with a shake of her head and led them out of the storeroom. She hesitated beside the kitchen door. A few slaves were still at work, doubtless providing food for the party in the great hall.

"I will speak with them," she whispered. "When I signal, go down the steps and up the stairs on the other side. Do not stop. And do not make any noise." This last was aimed at Hex, who gave an abashed nod.

She walked with assurance into the large chamber. A tired, middle-aged man looked up from the table where he was chopping something Dash didn't want to examine closely. He said something in Huttese. Yenzon shook her head and replied. The man sighed and turned toward a doorway, calling his assistants with him. Yenzon waved her hand beside her hip at the clones. Stepping as lightly as they could, they hurried toward the stairs, pausing once they reached the landing. Below, Yenzon and the older man spoke again. A moment later she appeared, carrying a pair of bottles. At Dash's questioning glance, she jerked her chin upward. Hex and Dash resumed their ascent. Once they reached the next level, she made her way past them and handed Dash the whiskey. He tucked the bottles in his case.

"What did you do?" Hex asked.

"I told him I was entertaining the suckers who tried to dupe Jabba and they were enjoying my services so much they were thirsty. He joked about outlanders who don't know how to conserve water. And he reminded me this isn't the way to the guest quarters. I said I was not in a hurry to get back to such lusty clients." She ducked her head and whispered, "It is the best way to prevent suspicion."

Dash's heart clenched at the casual degradation, but it was Hex who answered. "No worries. We don't care what people think of us—especially here. Are we close?"

She raised her head. "Three levels. This staircase exits beside the administrative section."

By the time they had climbed two long flights of stairs, Dash's legs were quivering with the strain, while Yenzon showed no signs of exhaustion. He was relieved when she called a halt at the top of the third flight.

"Wait," she breathed and slipped into the corridor.

Every instinct rebelled against letting her take point, but this was her territory. She moved so quietly, Dash almost missed her return.

"Guards are coming. We must wait."

Soon footsteps approached—not Gamorreans this time—and faded around the corner. The guards gave no sign of any suspicions. The three crept along the corridor to peer down the main corridor of the administrative section. No guards in sight. Fortuna's office was the closest. Beyond it lay the doors for the records room and the credit vault. Dash checked his chrono by the dim light. The circuitous route had taken them well over the half hour he had allotted for their travel, but with so many guards, a trip according to his map would have been even slower. There hadn't been nearly this many patrols during his scouting trip with Theec a few weeks ago.

Dash gestured to the others to remain where they were. The area was monitored by only one camera, which was pointed toward the administrative hallway. Dash positioned himself beside it, out of range of its lens.

On his trip with Theec, he had attached his own well-disguised camera to the wall. He reclaimed the memory chip, sliding it into his datapad. After consulting his chrono, he searched for the timestamp of 0247 the night before and scanned the following three hours. Ke'tracyn! No telling what had set off the security alert, but a number of guards had rushed into the corridor at 0422 and had milled around for over ten minutes. He scanned the same period from two nights ago. Better. It was too bad there was no way to be certain tonight's patrol times would match the recording. Regardless, they didn't have time for him to fiddle any longer—they would have to hope no one would notice any discrepancies. He set the recording to start playing at 0249 hours and attached the data cable to his datapad in place of the camera.

A sharp nod at Hex and they proceeded to the records room door. Two weeks earlier, the security camera had deterred Dash from exploring this corridor. Despite taking the best survey he could through electrobinoculars, he had not been able to make out much more than that the doors had well-maintained electronic locks. During this morning's tour, he had applied skimmers to them. Now he peeled the thin film off the keypad, careful not to get it stuck on his gloves, and applied it to a reader. Oh, haar'chak. No one had opened this door at all today.

When he had expressed concern to Kraytrider that he hadn't been able to apply the skimmers in advance, the man had assured him Jabba would be receiving currency today because so many debts came due at Boonta Eve. They had assumed both doors would be opened at least once.

"I have a small bomb that could open it," said Hex. He paused. "It would probably set off an alarm, though."

"Yeah. I bet." Hayc! Ordnance specialists. A bomb was not the solution to every problem. Dash pulled out his small toolkit and rummaged rapidly. He removed the screws on the keypad, exposing the wires. In the distance, the tread of many feet sounded. How long would he have? Two minutes? One? Hands steady by force of will, he began tracing wires.

Hex stood watch while Dash hotwired the lock. The process seemed to take ages as he fumbled with the mass of wires. "Be sure to bypass the alarm."

"Ob-viously."

Hex gritted his teeth and scouted for any places of concealment. There were none. It was a long corridor with three locked doors and no nooks or cross-corridors in which to take refuge. Yenzon tugged his sleeve and pointed in the other direction. Hex froze. There was another patrol coming up. Yenzon's eyes were even larger than usual.

The lock clicked, and Dash swung the old-fashioned door open halfway, adjusting the keypad to look undisturbed. The three scrambled into the room, pushing the door shut stealthily. They crouched in the dark room, the slightly out-of-cadence tread thundering stereophonically in their over-sensitized ears. Hex's heart was hammering and he wondered how the other two were coping. Time seemed to stand still.

The steps halted. Rough voices spoke. Hex hardly dared breathe, joining Dash in holding the door shut. Though if the guards were investigating the door, it was probably too late. An eternity passed. At last the voices stopped and the footsteps resumed, traveling in opposite directions.

Hex relaxed infinitesimally. "Could you understand what they said?"

"They complained about the extra patrols and said they hoped the schedule would go back to normal after Boonta Eve."

"Nothing about the lock? The door? Anything?" Dash's voice was a little strangled.

"No."

"Thank whatever power seems to be watching over this mission," Dash's voice was no more than a whisper. "And thank you for guiding us, Yenzon. I don't think we could have made it without you." He stood. "You said the keepers come back to the slave area at sunrise?"

"Yes."

"That gives us less than two hours. We'd better get moving." Dash reached for the door.

Hex thrust his hand away. "Wait." He opened his case and fumbled for the small cloth that covered the explosives. Whoever monitored the cameras might have noticed the light as they came into the room. In which case their sojourn would be short. There was no help for that, unfortunately, but he could take steps not to draw any further attention. He draped the heavy fabric over the room's security camera before Dash left to collect the skimmer on the vault door.

Still standing beside the open door, Hex surveyed the room. This might be the most risky element of their operation. If the bombs were discovered in the next twenty-four hours, the entire scheme could fall apart. And if the team was caught here in the middle of the night, there would be no explanation that would save their lives.

He set that concern aside. What would happen, would happen. Right now he had a job to do. A very important job.

The first step was to deal with the rest of the security equipment. By some miracle, they hadn't triggered the motion sensor yet. Ah. Someone had tried to maximize the percentage of the room it covered and had left an unmonitored cone beside the door. If it weren't so convenient, he would delight in chastising Jabba for such a rookie mistake.

He gestured to Yenzon to sit on a crate to the right of the door and attached a small light to his collar. He grabbed his wire cutters to gingerly disable the motion sensor and the alarm next to it.

The control box for the fire suppression system was mounted on the unplastered wall beside the alarm. He attached a small EMP device to the inside of the fire box. It was short range—only two meters—so he would plant the timed charges outside that perimeter and use incendiaries and accelerant inside the two meter boundary. He had just finished scattering the accelerant along the wall when Dash returned.

"Any luck with the skimmer?"

"Yeah," Dash whispered after he closed the door, "I got the code."

Hex grinned and handed him a light. Now for the fun part.

Hex was a true artist. The architecture of destruction had served as his bedtime stories since his earliest days. Where other boys might build and knock down towers of blocks, he had practiced placing bombs and grenades for maximum destructive power. He could destroy one building on a city block, leaving all its neighbors structurally sound. He knew the characteristics of each type of explosive. The yield required to achieve any objective. And exactly what chaos a plain old bomb could cause.

Now he created a masterpiece in the dark and the silence. It was a masterpiece no one would see and only a handful would ever know about, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the quality of his craft and the beautiful destruction it would wreak.

With efficient, practiced motions, Hex sorted his explosives and began laying them through the room. Dash was charged with placing incendiaries among the data tapes on the shelves while Hex attached the timed bombs to the electronic equipment in the center of the room. The trick, of course, was that the bombs couldn't be discovered before Jabba and his minions left for the race. But maybe Dash was right and something was guiding this operation. With luck, the room would remain as undisturbed tomorrow as it had been today. Hex tucked the devices into crevices and under consoles.

Lacking any advance intel on this room, he had opted to carpet the room with small bombs rather than concentrating fewer larger ones on the main equipment. He set the final charge and stood to ease his back. Dash caught his attention with a gesture. Hex followed him to discover a second room filled to overflowing with older magnetic storage devices. Dash pointed to one of the labels. It was from four hundred years earlier.

Assessing the room rapidly, Hex concluded that the most recent record in this section was two hundred years old. He checked his case. He didn't have enough incendiaries or bombs to ensure destruction of everything in this room. It probably didn't matter. There weren't that many species that lived more than two centuries. If a few of these records survived, most likely it wouldn't a problem. He passed Dash half of the remaining supplies and gestured that he would take the back of the room.

Out of supplies at last, they pressed their ears to the door. There was no sound outside.

"How long since the last patrol?" Hex asked Yenzon.

"A few minutes."

He checked his chrono; it was past 0430. "There's no time to wait." He swung the door open. "We need a lookout. Let us know if a patrol is coming."

She nodded and took up a position down the hall.

While Dash worked on the lock, Hex painstakingly spliced the alarm box wires. The moment the green ready light came on, he snatched the cloth off the camera and rushed out of the room. Dash swung the door closed, taking no care to be quiet. His fingers flew among the wires. After a hasty check of the keypad, they hurried down the corridor.

But before Dash could restore the hall camera, Yenzon whispered, "Guards."

They whipped into the stairwell and crowded against the wall. Patrol safely past, Dash deftly disconnected his datapad and restored the camera.

Yenzon was evidently concerned about the time, too, because she was less cautious on the return trip. The kitchens were, fortunately, deserted. They hustled past the guards' quarters and into the narrow corridor where the slaves were confined. She sped along, pausing only to speak softly in Huttese to someone who called out from the last room. Hex thought he caught the word Kraytrider. Whoever had spoken subsided and Yenzon rushed them back out of the slave quarters.

They had to avoid two patrols in the guest section. The first one passed swiftly, but the second, when they were almost in sight of their destination, stood arguing for long minutes with an inebriated Gotal.

She almost ran toward their room the instant the guards had disappeared around the corner. Dash and Hex scurried after her, puzzled by her urgency now that they were through the slave quarters. Once the door was safely closed behind them, Dash said, "Thank you, Yenzon. You did something very brave and we are grateful."

"You are with the Krayt Rider," she replied, as though that explained everything. "Quick! Pligu will be here any minute."

Hex reached for the light.

"No! You must get in bed, as if you have been there all night." She thrust their cases out of sight. Pushing Hex onto a bed, she tugged the blanket up. "You must be asleep," she hissed and shoved Dash toward the other bed.

The door shuddered. A crack of light fell across the floor. Hex, who had risen on his elbow, sank back down, though he did not close his eyes.

Dash turned toward the door. Yenzon threw her arms around him; Dash froze. "Kiss me," she commanded under cover of the noise of the door. When he didn't comply, she dragged his head down. Hex thought Dash was too shocked to respond consciously, but his arms came up around her. The light fell across them and a venal chuckle echoed.

"No more," Pligu said in a lascivious tone that made Hex want to punch him. "Your time with her over."

Yenzon stepped back, and Dash's arms dropped to his side. Pligu grabbed her chain. She left without a backward glance.

Mando'a vocabulary:

ke'tracyn [keh-TRAH-sheen] – fire (as in to fire a weapon); used as a mild swear word, akin to blast
Haar'chak! [HAR-chahk] – D-it!
hayc [haysh] – honestly (used as an interjection)