Chapter 4
The ride into the small separatist staging area was easier for Conn to complete than his droid counterpart, partly due to their modes of transportation. However, both presented their particulars. Once IG-86 had cleared passage into the base, it was fairly straightforward. Conn, however, had some explaining to do as far as the guard detail missing from the high value trainload of goods once he was in. The captive Barabel proved useful with his orders to protect the private freight carrier. The two lizards even got him a cool five thousand credits from the authorities for being linked to Q'evarra.
With the explaining done, it was time for Conn to collect his spoils for the safe delivery, and then his ship for the next attempt at his elusive quarry. Conn and the IG approached yet another Kubaz, not unlike the party who gave him the assignment, though this time accompanied by a TC series protocol droid.
"My contact said you'd be waiting at the finish line." Conn opened.
This time, the long snouted figure didn't speak basic at all. The droid did its duties as middle-man.
"As per your contract with Xizor Transport Systems, it would appear your obligations are fulfilled. We can part with one turbo laser battery due to damages suffered by the train. Are these terms acceptable?"
"No," he replied flatly, "your mark had information I wasn't privy to when I took the job. As an information broker, that's poor handling on your part."
"Due to the volatile nature of business with the backdrop of war, such inconsistencies should be expected," the droid countered.
"Inconsistencies in the deal after the fact may mean inconsistent results with my guarantee. Maybe this droid has useful information, or even parts for my IG friend here," Conn said, slapping the chest of his own automated companion.
The servos in the IG's head whirred to life, focusing on the synthetic panic of the protocol droid, shortly faltering its duties in the heat of the moment.
"Then the original deal still stands. We have a pair of cannons meant for a Lucrehulk battleship. We can fit them for a fee. Five thousand would suffice."
"Three, don't push it. I haven't even collected on the two Barabel yet," Conn warned.
"For the additional two thousand, I can offer insight to your alleged quarry, the bandit Q'evarra. Port officials witnessed a JS-77B hijacked shortly after the train departed," the TC droid offered.
"Nice try, but I was on the train when the freighter came to lift him off world, no doubt. You'll have to give me more to go on than what I've seen," Conn said irritated.
"The ship was stolen by the besalisk mercenary Trillem Blad who indeed took Q'evarra off world. Given the value of this heist, we deduce only one place he could be going on such short notice."
"And that is?"
"It's surmised he went to Pure Neimoidia, where small crops of the plant Bota are grown and frozen, as you found on the train. But that is all I can tell you," the droid concluded.
"It's an awful lot of guesswork and theories. Lucky for you, I'm running on little in the way of information and time. We'll call that a fair trade. Now how about those cannons?" Conn finished.
--
Trillem Blad cursed the controls of the of the hijacked ship as he left the atmosphere of Deko Neimoidia. The small transport lacked a navicomputer and he couldn't find Neimoidia in the preset jump coordinates.
"You had best be a better pilot than you are a judge of ships!", Q'evarra growled. "This crate will get us killed before we get off world."
"I could have left you to deal with that mandalorian on your own. Nevermind the customs droids I had to shake to get to you. Now help me figure out the coordinates for Neimoidia, or we're getting there on sublights alone."
"Or maybe I use an escape pod to go back and find myself a ship. Mando won't be looking for me there, he's looking for this…thing!", Q'evarra said in disgust.
"Until he doesn't see you. And what's stopping me from chasing Bendo myself? Must be pretty valuable if we're still following him.", Blad protested.
He had a point, Q'evarra had to admit. Blad had no allegiance to him aside from money, and Q'evarra had yet to deliver on his promise. As nimble and fierce as Q'evarra could be, the besalisk was more than he'd want to contend with. Trillem Blad was large even for his species, and slung onto his chest were a near comically large vibro-axe, along with a repeating blaster that could be placed onto the stump where his lower right hand once was. At any rate he was off world with options. But for now, he figured it was most profitable to go after the head of the beast. But the situation was tricky, not helped at all by the bucket they were floating in.
"Since the port officials managed a few pot shots, we need to bypass a few circuits on our sensor array. You work on the jump coordinates and then man the turret while I fix the sensors. Then we go get your precious Bota.", Blad delegated.
--
It would still be hours before Mi'tha returned from his delivery, so Articus Trang felt she could feed with discretion. Secrecy was important for such an ancient being, as her youthful appearance and the myths surrounding her species would raise many questions. Questions surrounded by controversy, then by the lowly anger fueled by the self-preservation of the livestock of the universe. Beings who couldn't understand the wisdom and sublime nature of existence spanning centuries. The ability to watch civilizations rise and fall, wars come and go, for history to ebb and flow through its repetitive patterns.
The chamber containing the carbon freezing equipment was warm with the energy exchanged by compressors and fluctuating temperature differences of the payloads within. The air became drier, and cooler amongst the slabs of frozen bota, which were fewer in numbers as of the current day. Though it would be hard to distinguish for anyone just passing by. She passed rows of slabs, neatly uniform and upright. Barely visible in the poorly lit room was a change in shape of the slabs. The faces of them changing from mesh-framed containers, to literal faces frozen in anguish.
Articus stopped at the end of a column of slabs and stroked the face of one carbonite block, a sculpture of terror. Her lips curled in a crooked grin as she ran her fingers to the side of the carbonite, where she manipulated controls. The slab began to steam, then glow. She stepped back, arms crossed, as features began to show through the dark frozen face that encapsulated it. The young man fell limp to the floor from his prison. He lay still for a moment, and began coughing as he tried to orient himself.
"Hush, child, settle. You've been asleep for a while.", she cooed.
"Where…am I?", the confused man asked.
"Safe.", she softly replied.
"What did you do? Why am I here?"
"Preservation.", she answered. She caressed his head as he weakly sat upright, trying to focus on something other than darkness. As he looked to her in vain, tracking the voice, her hands cupped his jaw, practically propping his head up to look directly in her eyes.
Articus's cheeks rippled, then slowly creased to reveal tendrils that extended to the helpless face. In an instant, the pair of proboscis shot forward between the eyes of the disoriented captive as he briefly spasmed, then sat still. The Anzat's eyes rolled into the back of her head at the euphoria of such a quality host, far surpassing the pitiful offerings of the Galaxy such as the Aqualish on Coruscant.
Satisfied for the moment, Articus placed the remnants of the poor Padawan into a large container with the bacterium from Mi'tha's lab. But having used some of her stockpile, she needed to collect again. The rumors on Coruscant and the last Jedi she'd captured had hinted at some over-encumbered Jedi taking on new Padawans in an exploration mission. Prime hunting for such delicacies.
She left her compound aboard her private shuttle, donning Jedi robes from one of her previous captives. Sneaking aboard one of the transports ferrying the Jedi would be the challenge, but not above her abilities. She set course for Coruscant once again, thrilled with the prospects of the hunt.
--
The unease in Mi'tha's gut started to wane as his ship dropped out of lightspeed, Neimoid in full view. He started the landing cycle and entered the atmosphere, bearing course for the secluded compound from which he worked. He was glad to be back, away from the scum of the galaxy. Safe.
The hologram display on his control panel flickered to life, the face of Miss Trang materialized before him.
"I trust everything went as planned?", Articus asked.
"Yes, Miss Trang. Loaded and shipped. I'll forward the manifest to you. It appears to have arrived complete as well.", Mi'tha confirmed.
"A most welcome development, Doctor Bendo. Good work. See? And you were all worked up."
"Of course, Miss Trang. Th-thank you. Hopefully the start of a new trend.", Mi'tha replied.
"The next crop looks to be doing well. I'll leave you to it. I am taking an extended leave to pursue contacts for our unique product.", Articus concluded with the flicker of the hologram.
The autopilot set the ship down on a landing platform near the blast door that led to the carbon freezing chamber. Mi'tha set the droids to unload themselves and tend to the crops inside. He settled into the compound, rotating the gang of worker droids out for the incoming from the ship. He noticed a couple of carbonite slabs missing from the inventory, but dismissed it amongst decompressing from his run-in with the besalisk.
As he set about his duties, reestablishing his routine, he noticed an indicator flashing. It was to the ship he'd just landed. He picked up a data pad and ran a remote diagnostic, which came back totally normal. Puzzled, he keyed an astromech slaved to the ship to scan for life forms or other anomalies.
Curiosity began to invade his thoughts while he waited for the droid to complete its sweep. He wondered why Miss Trang would have thawed slabs of carbon only to depart for the core. He tried to make sense of it all and figured he could work on his bacteria to get his mind off of everything. As he entered his lab, he noticed a large container that had been recently sealed. Nearly opening it, he stopped short when he noticed the specific bacterium within; it was the variant that had mutated into the dangerous flesh-eating variety.
He piped the container to his equipment and purged the contents in a fiery blast, followed by cold. Anything surviving would be in stasis. Once the container was safe to open, he found something odd left over. It was fabric, appearing to be brown, perhaps the size of the palm of his hand. Thoughts went back to Miss Trang, then the inventory of carbonite slabs. What went on here while he was away?
He walked among the rows of tall dark slabs with a dark metallic sheen. He used his light to visually inspect the stores. Everything looked in order, he couldn't even see missing slabs within the formation. As he maintained his pace, he noticed the slabs went from their usual shape so something…different. He shone his light on a particular block and noted what looked like fingers. He removed it from the column and witnessed the face of a woman, petrified in horror and pain. Noting the following slab of similar fashion, he dropped the light, shocked. He nearly fainted when his datapad blinked to life. It read:
Life forms detected: 0
Foreign objects detected: 1
Indicating foreign presence…
Followed by an acoustic blip, rhythmic in its persistence. The representation meant one thing. A tracking beacon.