In the year 23 before the Battle of Yavin – one year until the outbreak of the Clone Wars
"Thank you so much, you were a wonderful audience!" Marasha shouted to the crowd after her concert was over.
After two encores, she went backstage to change her clothes. She was about to take her makeup off when she heard a shuffling noise. She turned to see a Hutt. In contrast to his more green or brown counterparts, his skin was purple and tattooed with a pattern in a yellowish signal color. On his head he wore a strange feather headdress, the likes of which she had never seen before.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," the Hutt said in an affected tone of voice. "Your performance was truly extraordinary! What species are you from?"
"Geroon," she replied in monosyllables.
"Ah, I would feel honored if I could take you with me in my glider for a while. You're definitely going home to Noggox, aren't you?"
"How do you know?"
"Oh, come on, Noggox is a very good friend of mine," the Hutt crooned. "Oh, I'm so rude! My name is Ziro and I am an uncle of Jabba!"
Marasha put on a neutral expression. "Ah yes."
"Are you all alone on Affa? I know a lot of the sights here and can show them to you!"
"Thanks, I know the city quite well now," she replied.
"Then let me take you to Noggox," the Hutt urged. "If we go there together, then we can talk about a guest appearance at my club on Coruscant. You can make a lot of money there."
"I still need time to change and put on make-up," she said dismissively.
"Oh, I can wait," Ziro insisted. "My glider is already waiting outside."
Marasha knew she couldn't take too much time. Noggox wanted to hear her sing two more songs in his palace.
"I'll come downstairs then," she said, to get rid of the pushy Hutt, who at three meters ninety was at least two and a half times her height, at least for a while.
When she came downstairs, she saw Ziro's swanky glider standing in front of the entrance to the Three Moons.
She was just about to get in when she noticed a creature about her size. The woman walked on two thin legs and had blue stalked eyes that looked at her curiously. Her mouth was trunk-like and seemed to be sniffing something.
"Sy, what a joy that you're already here!" whistled Ziro. "Would you like to come with me to Noggox's palace? The new Geroon singer here will make a small appearance there."
Sy pouted with her trunk, which Marasha could see. "Thank you very much, I'll follow," she explained before disappearing into the Three Moons.
Marasha's purple eyes began to glow vividly. "Tell me, was that really Sy Snootles?"
"Yes, she is a good friend of mine. I know many famous singers and musicians," Ziro boasted.
They had reached Noggox's palace. Some palace staff were eyeing the Hutt and the supposed Geroon in a way that Marasha didn't like. But she didn't like the situation either, so the looks hurt her twice.
Noggox clapped his hands in joy as Marasha returned.
"Ah, Ziro, old house," he greeted his fellow species. "Just leave me my golden throat whole. I want her to sing for me for a long time," Noggox deigned to joke. "Besides, I can't fall asleep until she sings to me for dinner."
So Marasha sang him two songs in the Vagaari language, all the while trying to avoid the gaze of Ziro's green eye. There were all sorts of rumors about what Hutts did to humanoid slaves, and even though Coruscant was part of the Republic, Marasha could already imagine that harsher customs prevailed in the lower levels of the capital planet, where Ziro had his club.
She fell into her bed, dead tired, and was already dozing off when she heard the door open. She jumped up and found Sy Snootles standing in front of the bed.
"How long has this been going on with you and Ziro?" the Pa'lowick asked angrily.
"There is nothing between me and Ziro at all. I saw him for the first time today," Marasha insisted. She hesitated before speaking the next sentence. "Besides, I have a boyfriend."
"Thyy," said Sy, "Ziro has never cared about something like that before!" With these words she slammed the door from the outside and peace returned.
The next evening Marasha was supposed to sing for Noggox again, this time for the entire evening. Sy Snootles was upset that she was supposed to be the opening act while Marasha was the main act. So the Pa'lowick explained to anyone who wanted to hear or not that she didn't have time anyway and already had other commitments for the rest of the evening. Ziro didn't care and simply stayed seated after Sy Snootle's departure to wait for Marasha to appear.
The young Vagaari couldn't particularly enjoy this performance, as Ziro not only sat in the front row, but also undressed her with his eyes while he sensually scratched his fat stomach, which was tattooed with a light purple sun.
Finally the concert was over and Marasha gathered up her strapless gold and purple dress to move off the stage. She had barely left the stage to turn into the hallway to her quarters when she saw the massive figure of Ziro snaking towards her. The Hutt must have been waiting for her in the hallway.
"Oh, even more beautiful today than yesterday," Ziro whistled.
Marasha stared in disgust at the trail of slime the Hutt left behind. It corresponded exactly to his behavior. And where were the two Trandoshan guards when they were needed? But Noggox would certainly not want to have a scandal with an influential member of his species here in his palace. After all, just yesterday Noggox had told the other Hutt that he didn't want his golden throat...
"He called you Goldthroat, how sweet," Ziro continued to slur. "That goes so well with your marks on your cheeks and chin. And your eyes are like my skin. We fit together quite well, don't you think?"
He crawled even closer to her and she forced herself to walk past him calmly. But Ziro snaked his way into her path, reaching up to pat her shoulder with his purple hand. "Oh, how beautiful you are, Marasha of the Geroon people!"
She wriggled under his grasp to escape him. His hand followed her and knocked her off balance by her shoulder, sending her tumbling to the ground.
"Oh, I'm sorry about that. May I help you up?" Ziro offered, gallantly extending a four-fingered hand to her.
She didn't answer him but rolled out of his way. Unfortunately, her shoulder brushed against one of the slime secretions the Hutt had left behind along the way.
"Um," she said and immediately stood up again.
"Leave her alone right now!" she heard a familiar voice from the end of the hallway.
"Bearsh!" she shouted and ran towards her cousin.
She stopped abruptly a few steps from him when she noticed his disapproving look.
"What do you look like, Marasha?" Bearsh said reproachfully.
She looked down at herself in shock. "I had an appearance. You put something like that on."
He looked at the off-the-shoulder dress with cutouts at the hips.
"I'm going to change straight away," she said reassuringly.
His gaze stopped at her hairstyle. "What did you do with your hair?"
"They said that people like to see something like that. Sometimes these braids are extremely impractical. I have to take them out every two months and have them re-weaved because otherwise they grow out."
"Marasha, that's not what a Vagaari woman looks like! This is just embarrassing!"
She lowered her gaze. "Officially, I'm not even a Vagaari."
He thought about it. "Looking at it that way, you're actually right. "But what about that one?" he asked, pointing to Ziro.
The Hutt had grasped the new situation and meandered away as if nothing had happened.
She smiled. "What should be about him? A Hutt who doesn't know how to behave."
"And what if I hadn't been there?" it came back accusingly.
"But you came," she replied solemnly.
"Ziiiirooo!" a deep voice boomed through the hallway.
The two Vagaari turned to see Noggox, who called his fellow species to order in Huttese.
Marasha winked at Bearsh. "And to answer your question: Then that's exactly what would have happened."
She led him to her room, where two neatly made beds were waiting for them. They sit down at the table.
"Who sleeps here?" Bearsh wanted to know, looking at the other bed.
"No one since I've been here," she told him. "How are things going with the Banking Clan?"
"Good," he said. "Have you found out anything about the Jedi Force yet?"
She let her shoulders slump forward. "They only take small children there. I've heard from a few people that they don't even take five-year-olds anymore because they're already too attached to their old family."
"That means you'd have to find some private teacher," Bearsh said.
"That's what it looks like. But it seems that the people who can do such things and are not in the Jedi Order are not walking around freely so that they can be recognized. It is said that the Jedi find all children when they are small. Or they will be reported to them."
"But you can't stay here forever!"
She lowered her head again. "I know. There has to be some solution. I've heard that there are smaller outposts of the Jedi Order. On Devaron, for example. Maybe they're not so strict there. And that's not far from Affa."
"Did Noggox actually give you your ID card?" Bearsh came to another topic.
"What kind of ID card?" she wondered.
"Every being in the Republic has an ID card with which they must identify themselves when requested. That means Noggox doesn't give you all the freedom you're supposed to be entitled to," Bearsh concluded, then took out his ID card from his pocket, which identified him as Geroon. "There is something like that for you too, Marasha. You should ask Noggox about it, otherwise you'll never get out of here. How long does your contract actually last?"
"Ten years, three of that is already over."
"Ten years? The Banking Clan only signed me up for three years until they prolong it so that I wouldn't get too comfortable. We have to change that!"
"But you would need a good reason for that."
"He denied you your ID card and took advantage of your ignorance. Let's go to Noggox tomorrow and discuss this."
A new shine appeared in her eyes. "It's worth a try."
"See you tomorrow then," he said, briefly squeezing her hand.
When they wanted to go to the throne room together the next day, they were stopped by the two Trandoshans and the droid.
"Noggox doesn't want to be disturbed now," said one Trandoshan.
"When is it right?" Bearsh asked.
"Count Dooku only takes seven and a half minutes at most for his visits," the droid explained.
"What you know," said the other Trandoshan snidely.
"And when did the audience for the Count begin?" Bearsh asked.
"Three minutes ago," the droid replied tinny.
Bearsh grinned. "Then let's see if your estimate is somewhat correct. Woe betide you are wrong!"
"What happens then?" asked the first Trandoshan aggressively.
Bearsh tilted his head back ever so slightly. "I'll decide when the time is overdue."
Count Dooku left the audience before the remaining four and a half minutes. The nobleman of Serenno was very tall, dressed in brown, and strode past them proudly and majestically. Marasha and Bearsh examined the curved handle emblazoned on Dooku's grooved belt.
"It's a lightsaber, isn't it?" Marasha whispered to Bearsh.
"He was once a Jedi. Maybe you could ask him to train you."
"Whether he will pay the transfer fee that Noggox will demand for the early termination of the contract if he knows about my powers?" she wondered aloud.
Bearsh curled both lower lips. "Someone like Dooku will prefer to train someone who he doesn't have to buy out, but who knows how to help himself."
They entered the audience hall.
"Ah, my golden throat. And you also brought someone from your people with you. Would you like to sing for me too?" asked Noggox Bearsh, as if it couldn't be otherwise.
"I would like my ID card," Marasha said. "I know you have them."
Noggox wore a clueless look. "What do you need this for?"
"You certainly don't have your ID card lying around with Jabba, do you?" said Bearsh.
Noggox laughed. "Bwahahahaaa, that's what I was missing. I keep my employees' ID cards until their contract expires."
"But then she can't travel at all when she's on vacation."
The look in Noggox's yellow eyes became lurking. "Where should Marasha travel to when she no longer has a home? Or has something changed?"
Bearsh raised an accusatory finger. "Marasha has just been welcomed by one of your species…"
Noggox made a strong gesture for Bearsh to be silent.
"Out! Everyone out!" he shouted, waving his arms.
The entourage quickly left the throne room.
Bearsh looked at Noggox expectantly. The Hutt let his yellow eyes wander as if to make sure they were really alone.
"Then tell me," said Noggox in a more conciliatory manner.
"Marasha was bugged by this…"
"…Ziro…" Marasha added,
"... pretty badly harassed and if I hadn't intervened, something worse would have happened," said Bearsh angrily. "And since something like this seems to happen often here and you've obviously turned a blind eye, we don't want Marasha's contract to run for a full ten years, but only for three - like the Banking Clan I work for!"
"Hmmm, at the Banking Clan," Noggox said, licking his lower lip with his tongue. "I have to apologize for Ziro. He's leaving again today."
"The contract!" Bearsh insisted.
"Well, four years," Noggox conceded. "But I'm keeping the ID card just to be on the safe side!"
"Are you so sick that you're afraid people will run away from you?" Bearsh sneered.
The Hutt's gaze stopped at the weapon belt that the supposed Geroon was wearing. "It's just such a tradition! And I'm still merciful about the four years."
"What was Count Dooku doing here, if I may ask?" asked Marasha.
"Oh, Count Dooku," Noggox began, making a sweeping gesture with his right hand. "He wanted Affa to leave the Republic and join his Confederacy of Independent Systems, but as far as I know they also charge pretty high taxes. And defense levies. And it doesn't make you any safer. With the Republic you are always on the safe side, even if the bureaucratic processes there sometimes take longer than in the Hutt area - or in the KUS's sphere of influence. Frankly, I don't think the KUS can solve the galaxy's problems. The more systems join the KUS, the more unstable the situation becomes in general, so I won't take part in that!"
"But Dooku was once a Jedi," Marasha objected, "How can he want to weaken the Republic?"
Noggox adjusted his aviator sunglasses as if they were squeezing him. "Sometimes people want something right by the wrong means. And sometimes they want something wrong through completely legal means. And yet it remains wrong.
But what is right and wrong? What's important is that we have a living, isn't it? And I have my doubts that Dooku can guarantee both our livelihood and our safety. That's why when in doubt, I prefer to turn to the right Jedi!"
"Have the Jedi been here before?" Bearsh probed.
"There was an incident ten years ago where the Jedi helped me," said Noggox.
"What was that about?" Marasha wanted to know.
"A dispute with Devaron over customs clearance for droid spare parts. Devaronians can be quite violent. And then their two horns. After the dispute was resolved, the Devaronians agreed to establish a Jedi outpost on their planet."
"Well, I guess we've found a somewhat acceptable solution," Bearsh came to the end of their audience. "We thank you!"
He and Marasha bowed, then left the Hutt's audience chamber.
"Is your boss always so talkative?" Bearsh asked as they walked through a park outside the palace.
Marasha grinned with both mouths. "He was still relatively taciturn today. I still didn't get the ID card."
Bearsh put his arm around her shoulders comfortingly. "ID cards can be remade, contracts with Hutts are never actually broken. So now you'll serve out your remaining year before we find something new for you. Would you like to go for a ride with our old hunter?"
"Why not?"
They got into the Vagaari fighter that Dool Pundar had had overhauled at the time.
"It looks nice and new," said Marasha, "but it smells a little different – so sterile."
"That's because all the cables are now well insulated," Bearsh explained. "I haven't gotten around to adjusting the air composition yet. Otherwise I always travel with the Banking Clan's courier ship, there I've already changed it, but here I'd have to scrape the cables to get a similar effect again.
They circled over the capital until they were back over Noggox's palace.
"What is actually manufactured in the factory right behind the palace?" Bearsh asked his cousin.
"It's called Dreadnought Galactica and it belongs to Noggox. He has droids and spare parts for them made there."
Something flashed in his purple eyes. "What kind of droids?"
She smiled. "All kinds of them, but I haven't been in yet."
The yellowish Vagaari fighter descended onto the square landing platform. At the same time, Ziro's flashy shuttle rose from the same landing platform - easily recognizable by its purple and neon yellow color scheme.
"Hopefully he won't come back any time soon," said Marasha.
Bearsh looked into her eyes. "But I'll be back, count on it."
She returned his gaze. "I know."
༺༻
After his visit to Affa, it took another two months until it turned out again that Bearsh was on a mission with Grievous. The Kaleesh, however, was different than before - more distant, more formal. Bearsh had a strong suspicion that this had something to do with the failed mission on Frunchetta.
"What's wrong, Grievous?" Bearsh asked once they were in hyperspace.
Grievous' tusked mouth twisted into a half-smile.
"Hmmm, maybe you really do have something like a conscience," the Kaleesh murmured, as if in thought.
"What's that supposed to mean? But I can leave it alone if it doesn't fit right now," replied Bearsh in a slightly offended tone.
"No, it's okay. Sit down!"
They sat down at the oval conference table.
"Let's say I learned more than I wanted to know on Frunchetta three months ago," the Kaleesh began in a tone that Bearsh didn't like.
The Kaleesh paused, eyeing Bearsh coldly. The Vagaari looked at him intently and concentrated, showing no sign of impatience.
"I should have noticed it right away," Grievous broke the silence. "Right during the initial conversation, when you asked Tonith if the Banking Clan is also taking hostages."
A lump formed in Bearsh's chest.
"You know, you asked that when you were fifteen, like it was normal," Grievous continued. "You may have adapted. You know what to say and what to keep to yourself. But you are still at heart a plunderer and slave owner like the rest of your people."
"My people are dead," Bearsh said flatly.
"They can't be deader than dead," Grievous replied harshly. "So now would you please be kind enough to tell me the true name of your oh-so-dead people?"
Bearsh realized there was no point in continuing to lie. Something had happened on Frunchetta that put the Kaleesh on the right track.
"I am a Vagaari," he said with just the right mix of matter-of-factness and modesty that he deemed appropriate.
"Tell me, Bearsh: What have the Vagaari done to the Geroon people that you think you can hide behind the name of their species without anyone finding out? Are there even any Geroons anymore?"
"Yes, there are still Geroons," Bearsh choked between two lips.
"It disgusts you to even say the word!" Grievous scoffed. "Maybe there really are still Geroons, just wondering what kind of situation they are in."
"What can I say, I was still a child back then, I didn't know anything else. Do you think it was easy for me to adapt here?"
Grievous bared his teeth. "Hmmm, without any slaves to clean up the mess after you – that's really bad."
"I don't need slaves to clean up after me!" Bearsh shot back. "I can do it myself!"
"That may be so," Grievous replied. "Still, I won't be working with you again after this mission."
"But you can't judge every member of a people the same way! That's unfair!" protested the Vagaari.
"Neither do I," Grievous replied. "Still, I don't get the impression that you're sorry for what you Vagaari did back then."
"We've already paid more than enough for this," Bearsh said in a somber voice.
Grievous's sharp teeth flashed. "The galaxy should be truly grateful to those, what did you call them back then, Chiss... and, even though I hate to say it, to the Jedi of that time too."
Bearsh's expression became imploring. "It's no use arguing now about the past, which you can't undo anyway."
"We'll see about that," Grievous said darkly. "But despite everything, you were a good companion and comrade in arms. So I want to tell you in all fairness that it is not just because of the actions of your people that we will no longer work together in the future."
"What happened?" Bearsh asked with a premonition.
"I learned yesterday that the Yam'rii have invaded my homeworld again."
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"The Yam'rii have desecrated the graves of our saints!" Grievous snapped, ignoring Bearsh's offer. "I will pay them back. I, my Izvoshra, the entire Kaleesh people!"
Bearsh let this information sink in. "I assume you're going to do something now."
Grievous smiled to himself. Bearsh was wise enough not to make sentimental expressions of pity like other people he had caught committing crimes. How well the Vagaari could empathize with others. He felt genuinely sorry, but principles were principles - his principles!
"Of course I will," Grievous replied more conciliatoryly. "I will finish my work for the Banking Clan today and return to my people. I'm only doing this mission so that you don't look stupid if it gets more difficult. So we will fly on both ships."
"Does Tonith know?"
Grievous shook his head. "You're the first one I'll tell."
The mission was to find a Zeltronian who still owed money to the Banking Clan. The mission passed without any particular incident and after its completion, Grievous was in a hurry to get away from the planet Zeltros and from Bearsh, but before the Kaleesh got back into his own ship, both went into the lounge of Bearsh's ship.
"This mission was easier than expected, but it won't always work out that way; You know that," Grievous began. "Maybe the Banking Clan will give you more work now that I'm gone. Perhaps you will also rush to your people if you can still save them."
"I don't understand," came back from both Vagaari's mouths.
Grievous smiled broadly. "So you really have no idea."
Bearsh's mouth dropped open and closed, but he didn't utter a word, just stared at Grievous in complete surprise.
"Three months ago your people invaded Frunchetta again, looting and stealing slaves. I strongly suspect that the disappearance of the Banking Clan team is also the responsibility of the Vagaari."
Bearsh sat there stunned. His mouths gasped and his pulse quickened. He suddenly realized that Grievous had kept his certainly completely correct assumptions to himself all along in order to protect him, Bearsh, the Vagaari, from possible consequences from the Banking Clan. And he had been annoyed at the time by the Kaleesh's brief report to Tonith about the failed mission to Frunchetta! Spontaneous gratitude welled up in his eyes as he realized how much Grievous had actually liked him so far.
"This… is blowing me away," they said from both mouths.
"That's how I felt yesterday," Grievous replied dryly. "Then we are in agreement: everyone rushes to their own people – sooner or later. Make the best of it, or save yourself and your girl."
"Well then, adieu," said Bearsh, extending his brown hand to Kaleesh. "And give it to the Yam'rii properly!"
Grievous' amber eyes flashed as they performed the farewell handshake. "I will, I promise."
Bearsh smiled with both mouths. "I know!"
༺༻
Bearsh parked his Vagaari fighter in the spacious hold of the Banking Clan's courier ship, which he had almost paid off. Twelve more leasing installments and then the ship would be completely his and he could fly it wherever he wanted. His vacation still lasted a fortnight and he wanted to use this time to follow up on the tip that Grievous had given him. He had entered the coordinates for Frunchetta, although without the intention of landing on the battered world.
Bearsh looked down at the green planet, its large continents washed by blue seas. He activated his Vagaari comlink and sent out a signal. He received no answer. So he initiated another jump into hyperspace to get out over the planet Roxuli. Here too he couldn't get a connection.
Another jump brought him to the edge of the star cluster called the Redoubt. He didn't want to venture any further that day. It would take several microjumps to maneuver into this star cluster - a venture that had already failed several ships, as there were only a few usable maps for this dense star cluster. He activated his diamond-shaped comlink again - and got a warbling signal back.
"Finally!" he murmured, then sat back and waited.
༺༻
"A signal has been received, Commander Purpsh," the officer reported as soon as he stepped onto the Eternal Empire's command bridge.
"What signal, Lieutenant Kertsh?"
"An older emergency code, like what was used before the disaster, but it's fine."
"Okay, okay," Commander Purpsh grumbled. "I will take care of it personally. We can't rule out that the Chiss have planned a trap to finish off the rest of us too. We fought too hard to stay alive."
"Then will we leave the redoubt?" asked Kertsh.
"We will first undertake a small reconnaissance flight. Ready the old Geroon freighter! We're taking a crew of forty with us. That should be small enough to avoid the attention of a Chiss scouting party, but still enough to catch a merchant ship if it's not too big."
"Hey, I know this type of ship!" Kertsh said to his commander after they had fallen out of hyperspace after two microjumps. "That's exactly the same frigate that this lanky, white humanoid with yellow eyes was traveling with back then."
Purpsh grinned. "He had nice droids on board," he said, wiping his lower lip with the tongue of his right mouth.
"And much more," Kertsh added, his eyes shining. "But what does he want here in this wasteland?"
"Maybe they want revenge for the capture of their ship three and a half months ago," Purpsh joked. "Anyway, we'll find out now."
He reached for his diamond-shaped comlink.
"State your name, your species, and your reason for being here!" Purpsh demanded of the alien ship in the trade language of Minnisiat.
"My name is Ronk," it came back in Minnisiat. "I'm a Muun from the Banking Clan and I'm on my way to Frunchetta to get some defaulters there."
"You're pretty far from Frunchetta," Purpsh scoffed. "Could it be that you're lost?"
"It could be," it came back nonchalantly.
The channel was muted for a moment.
"From the Banking Clan! What a lucky hit!" Kertsh cheered. "He probably has those droid fighters with him again and treasures that he took from other people."
Purpsh smiled in anticipation, then his smile faded. "But how does the Muun know our emergency code from before? His species mate from three and a half months ago would hardly have passed it on to him before we had dealt with him."
"True," Kertsh agreed. "And the first Muun couldn't speak Minnisiat either."
"Maybe the guy in the ship isn't a Muun," Purpsh muttered. "But there's only one way to find out. He's all alone out here, so let's shake him up!"
He opened the channel to the strange ship again.
"You who calls yourself Ronk from the Banking Clan! We are the Vagaari!" came from the com speaker on Bearsh's ship in Minnisiat. "Surrender or we will destroy you and your ship!"
"Good, I surrender," Bearsh replied in Minnisiat.
"You stand at the entrance gate and place the remote control for your nice droids on the floor in front of you!" Purpsh ordered. "If the door opens and you have anything in your hand, you're dead!"
"I understand and obey!" Bearsh replied.
The docking lock was extended and docked with the courier ship. Bearsh looked out the small window at the spherical freighter, which was perhaps twice the size of his ship. He estimated that his compatriots had brought with them forty men to secure the mission.
The inner door of the lock opened and Bearsh looked upon two Magna-Guards as he himself commanded them. The Vagaari stood with his hands raised and the controls of his own droids on the ground in front of him. Behind the droid vanguard appeared a member of his species, no more than mid-twenties, dressed in the uniform of the Vagaari troops as Bearsh knew them - with the rank insignia of a commander on his shoulders.
"What is this shit and who by the moons of Vagar Praxut are you?" Purpsh asked his fellow species in the Vagaari language angrily.
"I'm Bearsh and I really work for the Banking Clan. I'm currently on vacation and I wanted to spend it back home," explained Bearsh calmly, also in his native language.
"Why didn't you speak to us in our language straight away?" the commander wondered.
"I had no way of knowing whether you were really Vagaari," Bearsh justified himself. "I only had this distress signal from earlier and I couldn't rule out the possibility that the Chiss also knew it and were preparing a trap for me. After all, this is Chiss space."
"Very remote Chiss space, though," Purpsh confirmed. "So you work for the Banking Clan, you say. What does that actually mean?"
"This is a banking conglomerate," Bearsh explained.
Purpsh still stared at him blankly.
"People in the Republic often put their money in a storage company called a bank so that burglars cannot find it in the house and take it. And the most important association of such banks in the republic is the Banking Clan. I found work there after my cousin and I escaped from Crustai. Since then, I've been collecting debts from other people – all legally – and I get paid for it!"
"Little, but regularly, right?" said Purpsh condescendingly.
"That's exactly what we should do now to avoid attracting attention if we want to gather strength without being bothered," Bearsh replied admonishingly. "The Banking Clan operates across the galaxy, and they don't like to see anyone tearing apart one of their squads. And as you already know, the Banking Clan missions are armed. And they can call upon additional troops if necessary—not just troops, but the defense forces of entire worlds!"
"Does the Banking Clan know where we are?" Purpsh asked suspiciously.
"Not yet," Bearsh reassured him. "It was a colleague of mine who found out because people at Frunchetta told him something."
Purpsh furrowed his brows. "And this colleague knows that you are one of us?"
"Yeah, but he's o.k. and keeps his mouth shut. And he resigned from the Banking Clan. So it's no longer any of his business."
"Let's go over to the ship, Bearsh. What family are you from?"
"I am the son of the brother of the last Miskara."
"You said something about a cousin earlier."
"She is the eldest daughter of our last Miskara."
"What is she doing now and where is she?"
"I will bring her over as soon as I can offer her secure conditions," Bearsh declared firmly.
Pursh smiled. "Congratulations! Then let me tie your ship to the back of the freighter and then back to the fleet!"
Bearsh's eyes shone. "It's been so long since I heard that sentence."
They fell out of hyperspace and Bearsh saw many different colored stars clustered around them, seemingly within reach. "Beautiful!" he exclaimed, then he took a look at the fleet that had chosen its new anchorage here in the middle of nowhere. There were ten ships. He identified seven of them as civilian ships and three as combat ships.
"Is there also a training ship?"
"Over there is Training Ship #2, the only training ship that managed to escape our own ship network during the disaster," Purpsh began to say. "The other training ships were shot down by the Chiss, just like the majority of our fleet. Then there were four civilian ships left and three combat ships, one of which was the Eternal Empire, our new flagship."
They docked with the Eternal Empire and exited the round freighter. Meanwhile, the Banking Clan ship remained docked to the round Geroon ship.
"Finally there's some decent air again!" said Bearsh as he joined the commander and his deputy on the bridge.
"You're definitely hungry," said Purpsh. "My wife cooked a good stew yesterday. She would certainly be happy if I brought a guest."
"Gladly," replied Bearsh. "How often do you do missions now?"
"About once every three months," Purpsh said. "If necessary, we can get there with four months. "In former times it used to be easier because the yield was enough to last six months, but now…" He made a cutting gesture in front of his forehead. "Sometimes we get in the way of other groups. These are people who even have their own planets and still go on requisition missions. Can you believe that?"
Bearsh shook his head. "Some people just can't get enough of it. How are things on the civilian ships?"
"We've had quite a few births in the last three years," Purpsh announced proudly. "Our population has doubled. Like the number of our ships since then."
"Are you still letting them build on Thakwaa?"
Pursh nodded. "People there don't ask stupid questions. And they don't even know our species, but they do exactly what they're told."
"Just because you mention the species," Bearsh started a new topic, "I'm going to pretend to be Geroon in Republic space so it won't be too obvious."
Kertsh made a face. "What a humiliation!"
"What an honor for the Geroons, who have achieved nothing in their miserable existence so far, nothing at all!" Purpsh objected, then turned back to Bearsh.
"Do you think you could get some of us secure jobs where no one asks stupid questions?"
"I actually have an idea," Bearsh replied. "I plan to end my employment with the Banking Clan. It is not possible there for several people of the same species to work together in a squad. The Muuns who run the Banking Clan don't particularly like it."
"For good reason, certainly," said Kertsh.
Bearsh nodded. "But I'm going to start a security company to guard buildings or other things. There is a lot of crime in the Republic and people are longing for material security and protection. We can take advantage of that. We could rotate people so that there are always some on the ship and others working down on the Republic planets."
Purpsh touched his chin. "That would actually be a good way to remain active militarily without having to justify our appearance in any way. I can't wait to send my people into your service."
"Then select thirty suitable men so that I can plan the training."
"How about we continue the conversation on the civilian ship where me and my family live?" Purpsh suggested. "There's fire drink!"
"So you can still brew it," Bearsh said approvingly.
"Kertsh, you hold the fort here while I bring our guest of honor over to civilian ship #60!" Purpsh ordered before handing the Eternal Empire's command bridge over to the other Vagaari.
"You kept the old numbering?" Bearsh wondered.
"I strongly assume that we will eventually replenish the remaining numbers with new ships as soon as we have enough people," replied Purpsh confidently.
Over on civilian ship No. 60 there was exactly the same hustle and bustle that Bearsh knew from before. Purpsh led him into a slightly larger living area, consisting of four rooms, where his wife, dressed in a blue, airy robe, met him. Bearsh guessed she was in her early twenties - and noted the bulging belly that clearly indicated she was pregnant.
"There's the returnee," she called cheerfully.
"Kasha, this is Bearsh, the son of our last Miskara's brother," Purpsh introduced the guest to her.
Five children came hesitantly into the room, staggered in size like organ pipes, their large, purple eyes wide with curiosity. "And these are my children Emosh, Hajsh, Masha, Bresha and Martish," Purpsh also introduced the rest of his family to the guest.
They sat down at a table, on which Kasha immediately placed a large pot of soup and the lady of the house poured each a large ladle of the tasty stew.
"Enjoy your meal!" said Kasha enthusiastically.
Bearsh tried it and nodded approvingly. "Like in old times."
"Tell me about your security company," Purpsh returned to the topic from earlier on the flagship.
"If things go well, we can employ five hundred to a thousand people on Coruscant. I already know a name for my security company," said Bearsh to the smacking of many mouths. "I'll call it SHIELD. That also sounds very good on Basic."
"SHIELD - a nice name - short and succinct," Purpsh said.
"To do this, people would have to learn Basic, because without it you won't get far in the Republic. I think it would be desirable if we included Basic in the school curriculum anyway."
"That's good," replied Purpsh eagerly.
The meal was finished. A small green creature, whose arms had an additional joint between the elbow and the knuckles, came in to place cylindrical cups in front of the adults.
"And now comes the fire drink!" announced Kasha.
"I never thought I would drink something like that again," Bearsh said wistfully. "After all, I was still a child back then."
"We always will survive," said the mistress of the house with a victorious smile on both her mouths.
The green creature poured some of the fire potion for all the adults, the herbal scent of which began to fill the room, then turned its green eyes to the young lady of the house, awaiting further instructions.
"Flowy, you can leave then!" Kasha said imperiously to the Frunchie, who then immediately left the living room area of his Vagaari masters.
Author's Note: Purpsh is a character in the novel Survivor's Quest by Timothy Zahn (2004). Anyone who paid close attention at the beginning will recognize him from a much earlier chapter in this story.
Ziro is a character from the television series The Clone Wars, s. 3.
Singer Sy Snootles also appears in "The Clone Wars" and can also be seen in Jabba's court in Star Wars - Ep. VI "Return of the Jedi" from 1983.