Chapter 3

"All roads seem to lead here, to Deko Neimoidia," Conn thought aloud. "With even a small scrap of luck, Q'evarra is the thorn in everyone's side."

"There is a 78% probability you are correct, based on current information," 86's vocabulator digitally croaked.

"You know the drill, 86. Quiet and under the radar. Can't spook our prey yet, even if his ship is in dry dock."

Deko was a bit quiet for one of the purse worlds, but he still had to be wary of random cruisers and policing patrols meant to keep republic ships out of the sector. Traces of a random armed freighter could make their way planet-side and tip off the potential target, which would affect his bottom line.

"If he's got an unregistered YV transport being fixed, no doubt he's in one of the smaller spaceports. And if our guy likes train heists, that leaves one possibility."

"By your deductions, he should be near the spaceport of Altilla," 86 confirmed.

"That means I'll need you standing guard at the old depot outside of town, just in case he slips by."

The spaceport of Altilla was reminiscent of Mos Eisley, though smaller and much cleaner. Despite that, it was still a stain on the agricultural paradise world. With IG-86 waiting at the abandoned depot, Conn parked his BSK1 swoop outside of the saloon near the edge of town. As the gossip centers of settlements, maybe he could learn a thing or two on current events.

The saloon was a dingy little place with only three tables and a jukebox that looked like it was stolen from Dex's Diner on Coruscant. A Rodian and a female Devaronian occupied one table, and a big red-skinned Barabel leaned on the bar, as the blue Nautolan barkeep cleaned a metallic pilsner. Conn and the Barabel caught each other's attention, but Conn's concealment allowed him simply to edge up to the bar as if to order.

"I'd like to buy a drink for my friend here, and I'm wondering when the next train comes through," he told the barkeep, laying a coin down.

The Barabel huffed through his fangs, pounding the bar and knocking back the subsequent drink. "We wondered who they'd send after him. Must be serious to get one of you involved."

"Don't flatter yourself. I smell something bigger than your boss fell into," Conn retorted.

The lizard man snarled at the insult. "Perhaps it's you who have fallen into something and you just don't know it!"

"If you're going to do this, I ask that you take it outside. Please, I don't need any walls removed," the barkeep interjected.

Conn nodded. "You Barabel are honorable sentients, aren't you? I propose a wager; you manage to draw first, and I forget I saw this world..."

"And if you knock me down?" he hissed.

"You tell me exactly where Q'evarra is."

The Barabel bore its menacing grin. "Then let's settle this," as he walked out into the street.

He stood some twenty meters from Conn, legs spread shoulder-width apart, hand at the ready. Conn stood in similar fashion, left foot slightly forward to maintain his balance. Time seemed to slow to a standstill as the saloon patrons gathered to watch the showdown unfold. The Barabel's eyes locked onto the face of his adversary. His lip twitched as if to simply charge and bite instead of shoot. Conn tensed his fingers against his gloves to remove any slack.

In an instant of time, the Barabel rocketed his right hand onto the backstrap of his pistol, as Conn pushed to rotate his EE-1 on his hip. As the Barabel cleared his holster, Conn brought the muzzle of his rifle level with his attacker. It was happening fast, but also so slowly. Conn saw clean down the muzzle of the pistol, the Barabel lining up his shot. Defeating his heads-up display, Conn squeezed off two shots from his rifle, claiming hits on the left shoulder and knee of the Barabel, who growled in pain.

Conn returned his rifle to its holstered position as he approached the wincing Barabel, propped on his elbows. He offered a hand to the giant lizard, who looked as if he might chew it off.

"As an honorable being, I did agree to telling you that the one you seek has a lookout posted at both ends to record what goods he may heist from the train, and that he intends to board nearly a quarter of the way through its voyage," the Barabel confessed.

"While it's confirmation, it's nothing I didn't know," Conn said, frustrated.

"But as an honorable Barabel, I still maintain loyalty to Q'evarra, so my obligation to you is fulfilled," he continued, as he jerked his pistol, raising to shoot Conn in his abdomen.

Conn whipped his pistol out, toggling the whining power coil, and vaporized the Barabel where he lay. He started toward his swoop and pulled his droid caller.

"86, move up the repulsor track to the junction. They'll no doubt have sentries there. We've got a delivery to make."

"Affirmative. However, it seems in order to avoid confrontation with bandits, the local transport affiliates have adjusted their schedules. On this day, forward 15 standard minutes. Our target will depart in t-minus thirty standard mi-," the droid was cut off.

"So I'll have to intercept? Best get to that junction, sooner rather than later. Stand by," he finished.

Droids weren't typically Conn's thing, but the sentinel droid was different. With some slightly advanced programming, it could pretty well operate as an independent bounty hunter. Seeing as; 1) Conn wouldn't allow that, and 2) such software didn't yet exist, it was a nonissue. But it made the IG-86 a very handy tool after he'd gotten used to giving concise direction and teaching the semi-AI his habits, so Conn was able to cover more ground and hunt that much more efficiently.

Covering ground was what Conn couldn't seem to do fast enough as of yet. That transport schedule might just work for the bandits, and against him. He blew by the depot IG-86 had to have just departed. Fortunately, the terrain wasn't tough to navigate, but it was tough to make good time and stay concealed. He decided to simply follow the repulsor-rail until he found a good spot to intercept. He opened the intake vanes on his "basilisk bike", as it was affectionately known, to utilize what speed it had to make up ground to the vulnerable train.

Another five minutes went by, and he approached IG-86 at the junction, his speeder bike in a smoldering heap. A searing red bolt glanced off of his shoulder. A second just under the intake of his engine. Cobb slowed his travel, dodging the incoming fire.

"86, are you still functional? We don't have time for this."

"The secondary speeder bike is a total loss after the ambush, however, I am functioning at 83% capacity," the droid replied.

"Draw fire. I'll do the lifting," Conn said urgently.

The IG unit stood upright from the cover of a rock and strafed as gracefully as it could up an embankment as it laid a volley of blaster fire in the direction of its attackers, spattering rock fragments and dust everywhere.

"Mark," the automated voice confirmed.

Cobb could see at least three heat signatures through the cloud of debris. He gunned the engine just enough to raise the bike's nose and obliterated one body with his main cannon. He resumed speed as he fired a concussion grenade from the bike's stern-side launcher. As he passed through the line of cover the attackers were utilizing, he let off a small salvo of flares. The grenade let out its signature thump as it smacked behind Conn.

"Whoever is still up, can't see. Mop up and get that junction switched. Stand by," Conn ordered.

--

Mi'tha had been a ball of nerves all morning. Thus far it had gone smoothly, but fearing Q'evarra or his associates spotting him with another shipment of Bota, let alone this significant one, may not sit well with the seedy outlaw. And then to try to explain that he was moonlighting his own sales, he'd be blackmailed for certain. Then Miss Trang would discover him and well, who knows what. But Mi'tha had a horrible knot in at least one stomach just thinking about it.

As he finished loading the rail car and recalled the droids to their freighter, the knot in his stomach had a cold feeling, like he was being watched. He tried to push it out of his head as he signed the manifest for his load. Upon finishing, he caught a glimpse of a besalisk peering over a crowd of workers, right at him. He turned to see if maybe there was someone else who had his attention, but to his dismay, nobody seemed to be paying attention to anything but their duties as they rushed to get the train departed early. As Mi'tha turned back, he was gone.

He followed his cadre of loading droids to the landing field where Articus Trang's private freighter rested. He turned to check behind him, just in case, and slammed hard enough to knock himself backwards, losing his data pad. He felt two massive hands catch him. As he whipped his head around, he saw the besalisk, a long scar across his face that split his upper lip, interrupted his moustache, and terminated at the remains of his right ear, also claiming a piece of his head crest.

"Sorry, pal, didn't see you there," the large being said, as he set Mi'tha back on his feet. "Don't want to lose this now, do we?" he chuckled.

The besalisk handed Mi'tha his data pad and eyed him for a few seconds as he turned to talk into a comm link. Mi'tha felt physically sick. He hurriedly boarded the freighter to set off for Neimoidia.

--

Q'evarra sat on the back of a speeder bike, chewing a strip of dried nerf meat as he awaited his fortune to greet him. With his lookout back at Altilla, and his agents covering each end of the train's journey for good measure, this would be an easy day for him and his crew. His crime boss days were looking better with each job. As he tore another strip of meat with his teeth, his comm link squawked to life. "Your feast just got a little juicier, Q'evarra. I just ran into that worm Mi'tha Bendo. Looked like he'd seen a ghost when I planted the tracker on his data pad." The besalisk almost guffawed.

"Meathead. He'll find that tracker and cut us off. But what was his business at the depot?" Q'evarra queried.

"Relax, he was so scared he practically forgot where he was. But there's an entire car full of carbonite slabs. I can only figure that wonder drug everyone wants but doesn't know about yet."

"Interesting find, Trillem. Watch him and find us a way off-world if we're to follow Bendo. Something low-key."

"I'm on it," Trillem said. "I'll meet you at the rendezvous point we planned. And look sharp, that train is on its way, ETA ten minutes."

The next ten minutes seemed to fly by, as the train was visible in no time. Q'evarra and his gang waited until the train had fully passed their hiding spot. In short order, almost synchronized, five speeder bikes and a modified P35 patrol speeder, weapons charged and ready, descended on their target that rocketed across the landscape. Q'evarra's bike led the pack alongside the train, which had droids guarding the cars. He hopped onto a flatbed car with something covered taking up most of the deck. Two B1 battle droids rushed him as he sprang onto one hand and drew three blaster pistols, sending hot bolts into the droids, disabling the first of many guards. Two Barabel hopped on the car to cover him, beginning their trek among the cars to clear them. As Q'evarra dispatched droid after droid with an array of unorthodox close combat techniques and fancy pistoleer work, his bike scouts and the P35 worked on the sides of the train. The haphazard fight boiled toward the engine, appearing as a giant lit fuse on a primitive explosive. The P35 pumped an excessive volley of heavy blaster fire into a boxcar, when its two accompanying speeder bikes hurriedly broke away from its lead, one crashing into the train car and exploding beneath, while the patrol craft caught a missile to its port side grille, immolating the craft and its occupants in an impressive fireball. The train jolted from the explosive accident, and a heavily armed swoop from the opposite direction joined the fray. It passed through the offensive force interested in the long string of cars, nearly rearing skyward as the pilot pulled off a short 180-degree turn. Q'evarra's remaining bikes tried to react, but the newcomer had the jump on them. He fired two heavy blasts at the former escort bike, the first glancing off of it, the second sending parts and pilot alike in every direction. The final three bikes braked hard to flank the newcomer, two were immediately devastated with accurate cannon fire. The third managed to get alongside its target. As he tried to ram into the offending newcomer, its pilot pointed a wrist gauntlet, bristling with firepower, and disintegrated half of the steering vane on Q'evarra's last speederbike, sending it crashing into the final train car. Q'evarra and a Barabel unleashed their blasters on the swoop as buttons were pressed, and the occupant fired his jetpack, leaving his craft. As if still driven, the swoop piloted away from the train on its own, while an armor-clad Mandalorian landed meters from them.

"Q'evarra. The notorious thief of hyperdrive motivators and turbolasers? I've come to collect." His filtered voice demanded.

"Poodoo!" Q'evarra shouted, as he planted two glancing shots on the Mandalorian's face. The split second allowed the Barabel to charge and tackle the bounty hunter, sending them both over the side of the speeding car. Q'evarra used the opportunity to start advancing on the train as he heard the jetpack fire to life a second time. He hopped onto another flatbed from atop a boxcar, more battle droids rushing him. Using his size, he swung and clambered over four or five of the wiry droids, dispatching a few through his fluid motions, before a screaming, plummeting Barabel sent the remaining guard droids careening off the train. He continued running as he heard droids being cut down in a rain of fire, the thud of boots hitting the deck behind him. "Conn Vallai, courtesy of Xizor transport systems and the CIS." He announced to the near-panicked dug. Q'evarra holstered his pistols and ducked into the next boxcar, locking the door behind him. As his pursuer fumbled with the door, he ran through the car, keying a switch on his comm link. The container was chock-full of the carbonite slabs Trillem Blad had mentioned. "Kriffin mother lode. Trillem wasn't bluffing!"

"Say again, Q'evarra. You're not coming through clearly. I've got your signal, but your audio is spotty." Trillem responded.

"Change of plan, Blad. You'd better have that transport and hot engines to boot. Kriffing bounty hunter has taken out most of my boarding crew!"

Conn pulled his EE-1 and shot enough holes into the locking mechanism to remove it. He switched to his pistol and entered the car full of carbonite slabs. It looked like some sort of pharmaceuticals, apparently from Deko Neimoidia. Scanning the car as he slowly passed through, he suddenly felt the thuds of fists against his helmet. He reached to grab his attacker, but Q'evarra's size and agility gave him the edge. Conn fell onto his back to try to disable his quarry, but the dug was simply too quick. As he sat up, a door flew open. Conn drew his pistol but knew it was too late. He continued out onto the next car and saw Q'evarra, just in time to feel the crushing weight of a Barabel landing on him. A second picked him up and slapped him away like a rag doll with its thick tail. As the two snarling beings descended on him, the first drew back a large fist. Conn fired a bola round and tangled the arm to his partner's neck. As the two struggled, Conn regained his footing and attempted a shot at Q'evarra. He turned to see the Barabel freed of their bond and closing on him. The first unslung a repeating blaster, the second with a DL44 heavy pistol. He fired his jetpack as his armor deflected several repeater bolts. Circling the pair, he took aim and disabled the repeater. The Barabel cursed and fled to Q'evarra, already two cars ahead of them. The second Barabel released a charged shot from the heavy pistol that almost sent Conn out of control. As he landed, he thumbed his rifle's fire selector and dialed it to stun. The Barabel drew a bead on Conn, then slumped as the blast of blue connected with his chest. Q'evarra was near the front of the train by now. But the Barabel wasn't in sight. Then Conn heard something, a tapping, no, a hammering noise. That lizard was trying to uncouple the train! Conn followed the noise as quickly and quietly as he could, when he heard the rumble of a starhound's engines approaching overhead. Just as it passed over him, he felt his feet go skyward, landing hard, going into a roll as the howling Barabel sent a huge fist where his head had just been. Conn braced his left foot on the Barabel's chest, kicking him square in the jaw with his right. The Barabel whirled and planted his tail across the Mandalorian's midsection. Despite his armor, it knocked the wind out of him. As he got to his feet, it went to backhand him. Conn fired another bola at the lizard, sending his arm into his face. This one met the same fate as his compatriot at the end of a stun blast. The freighter had shot off-world, no doubt, by the time Conn had collected himself. He pulled his droid caller out. "86, stow my bike and meet me at the next station. We have to collect, but we've still got a job to do."

--

Ta'ni had begun to grow bored of drills and training remotes. The academy even seemed stagnant with all that was going on elsewhere in the galaxy. Zim was another story; if he didn't control himself much better, and soon, he'd likely be deemed unfit for "field training" with a master. She continued to meditate, carefully disassembling her lightsaber down to the finest minute details. Pieces rotated out of place and unclasped as if being precision engineered in reverse without so much as a sound. For what little sparring she'd been permitted to partake in, her skills in the Force had conversely grown exceptionally over the last few weeks. Once again, she felt the tension in Zim, the fear of not measuring up to expectations, both personal and those of his masters. She tried to reach out, as she had before, to ease his mind. She gently pushed thoughts of birds singing against a lush forest with the backdrop of a waterfall, placing her next to him in their meditative poses. But this time, he pushed back, hard enough that her concentration broke, and her lightsaber fell to dozens of pieces. The noise may as well have been a Venator-class ship crashing through the temple. She opened her eyes, almost alarmed, and saw the frustrated glare on Zim's face. Frustration directed straight at her. She collected her disassembled lightsaber to begin reassembling it when Zim interrupted. "You can't patronize me and expect to be friends, y'know," he said pointedly.

"I was just trying to help. To show you how I deal with the pressure," she tried to assure.

"I can take care of myself. We already know you're further ahead in your training. So quit rubbing it in!" he snapped before taking his lightsaber and storming off. Ta'ni wasn't especially good with conflict just yet, so Zim got the space he needed all to himself. As she sat cross-legged in the wide, dimly lit room, she once again closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. She began to concentrate on the pile of cylinders and circuits in her lap as they began their familiar cycle. As each piece fell in line ready for assembly, Ta'ni began to see things that she didn't recognize. At first, she saw rocks, floating aimlessly and slowly bouncing off of one another. Her perception shifted to Zim, fighting with his lightsaber in a flourish of dazzling light and sparks and destruction. Battle droids flew apart by the dozen. She felt cold as she saw the silhouette of a woman, with a saber of her own, shielded by a veil of shadows. Then, a battered ship in the endless void of space, followed by an aggressive vapor cloud that threatened Ta'ni's sense of smell, and suddenly...her eyes snapped open. As her saber rested in her hands, she looked up to see Jedi Master Plo Koon staring intently down on her. "I sense much fear in you, Padawan," he noted.

"I saw a battle, a furious one. With a mysterious figure watching from the shadows," Ta'ni admitted.

"Of the war? Or of something else?" he inquired.

"Of my fellow Padawan, fighting battle droids. I also saw a ship, vaguely," she added.

"Perhaps it's the future you see, young one. The fog of war brings many variables, which can cloud judgment. But fear not, for fear can make things less clear than they already are. Focus on your training. Soon, you shall have an assignment, and you must be ready," he concluded.

"Yes, Master Plo, of course," she nodded.