Tales From The Empire

by Peter Schweighofer

of basic portage--and the group straggled their way through the

  onlookers and out into the crowd.

  Kast waited until they were out of sight. Then, pushing back his

  chair, he stood up, the blaster he'd used on the merc's weapon already

  secreted back in whatever hidden holster it had been drawn from. "The

  show's over," he announced, looking around at the bystanders. "Stay

  and buy a drink, or get moving."

  The proprietor was already beside Riij and Pairor, helping the former

  to a sitting position, when Trell and Maranne reached them.

  "You all right?" Maranne asked, offering Pairor a hand.

  The Tunroth waved it away. "I am not hurt," he said, rolling to his

  feet and flexing an elbow experimentally. "I was merely temporarily

  disabled."

  "You're lucky the condition wasn't permanent," Trell reminded him.

  "You should have left it alone like Kast told you to."

  "Yeah," Riij said, holding his stomach as he got to his feet with the

  proprietor's assistance. "Thanks, Kast.

  Though I wouldn't have minded if you'd stepped in a little earlier.

  Say, before they started pounding on us?"

  "Six mercenaries wouldn't have backed down in front of three blasters,"

  Kast told him. "I needed you to take some of them out first."

  He half turned. "If I'd known it would be five blasters instead of

  three, I might have moved sooner."

  Trell turned to look. The two men who'd drawn with them were standing

  there watching. "Thanks," he said.

  "I wouldn't have counted on getting that kind of help in a place like

  this."

  "No problem," the older man shrugged. "The Brommstaad Mercenaries have

  always had a tendency to consider themselves above the bounds of normal

  civilized behavior. And I've never liked it when children get

  threatened."

  "Besides which," the younger man added, "we were starting to get

  thirsty anyway."

  "Drinks?" the proprietor asked eagerly. "Of course; drinks for all of

  you. And meals, too, if you are hungry--the finest I have to offer."

  "We'll take the long table in the back," Kast said. "And some

  privacy."

  "Yes, good sir, immediately," the proprietor said. Giving them a quick

  bow, he scurried off toward the table Kast had indicated.

  "My name's Hal, by the way," the older man said.

  "This is my partner Corran."

  Trell exchanged nods with them. "Pleased to meet you.

  I'm Trell; this is Maranne, Riij, Pairor, andB" "Call me Kast," Kast

  cut him off. "Son or nephew?"

  Hal blinked. "What?"

  "Is Corran your son or nephew?" Kast amplified.

  "There's a family resemblance about the eyes."

  "People have mentioned that before," Corran spoke

  up. "Actually, it's just coincidence. As far as we know, we're not related."

  Kast nodded once, slowly. "Ah."

  "The table seems ready," Hal said, pointing in that direction.

  "Shall we go sit down?"

  "Oh, sure," Hal said, taking a sip from his second drink.

  "Everyone around here has heard of Borbor Crisk. Fairly small-time

  criminal, though, as criminals go---strictly local to the Corellian

  system. Of course, if you're looking for impressive intersystem

  criminals, we've got some of those, tOO."

  "We're not interested in impressiveness," Trell pointed out.

  "Criminal or otherwise. We've got a cargo to deliver to this Crisk

  character, and then we're out of here."

  "Yes, you mentioned that," Corran agreed, eyeing the other and trying

  to read him. It was hard to believe these people were really the

  simple errand boys they appeared, especially after the incident with

  the mercenaries. But if this was some kind of deeply clever plan, he

  was blamed if he could figure it out.

  At least, not from the outside. It was about time he made his pitch to

  get a little closer to the middle. "The thing is this," he went on,

  looking around the table.

  "Two things, actually. Number one: considering who Crisk is, your

  cargo is probably illegal and certainly valuable.

  That means that you not only have to worry about Corellian Security

  coming down on you, but also other criminals who might try to take it

  off your hands. And number two--" he hesitated, just slightly "the

  reason Hal and I came to CoreIlia in the first place was hoping to find

  jobs with Crisk's organization."

  "You're kidding," Riij said. "Doing what?"

  "Anything, really," Hal said. "Our last job went really sour, and we

  need to recoup our losses."

  "That's why we were following you, see," Corran said, trying for the

  proper balance of assertiveness and embar

  rassment. "I overheard Trell talking about Crisk, and thought--well--" "We thought maybe we could go

  with you when you went back to see him tonight," Hal took the plunge.

  Trell and Maranne exchanged glances. "Well---" "We don't actually know

  we're seeing him tonight," Riij pointed out. "That other booth owner

  may not know anything more about Crisk than Sajsh did."

  "That's a good point," Trell agreed, throwing an odd look at Kast.

  "This could be nothing but a blind alley."

  "Well, in that case, you'll need help finding him," Hal said with a

  wonderfully genuine-sounding eagerness.

  "Corran and I are locals--we have all sorts of contacts around the

  area. We can help you find him."

  "One of you can go," Kast said.

  Corran looked at the bounty hunter, blinking in mild surprise. It was

  the first time he'd spoken since they'd sat down at the table.

  "Ah--good," he said. "Just one of us?"

  "Just him," Kast said, nodding toward Hal. "Trell and the Tunroth will

  go with him. I'll be behind as rearguard."

  "What about Riij and me?" Maranne asked.

  "You two and Corran will go back to the ship," Kast told her.

  "You'll transfer the cargo onto the ship's land-speeder so it'll be

  ready for delivery."

  Trell and Maranne eyed each other again, and Corran could see neither

  was particularly happy with the arrangement.

  It was equally clear, though, that neither was all that eager to argue

  the point with the bounty hunter. "All right," Trell said with a

  grimace. "Fine. What happens if no one at that other booth knows

  where Crisk is either?"

  "That won't be a problem," Kast said. "Trust me."

  "Interesting person, Jodo Kast," Hal commented as the three of them

  headed back toward Sajsh's booth. "Have you worked with him long?"

  "This is the first time," Trell told him, looking around

  uneasily.

  There were far fewer shoppers at this hour than there had been earlier,

  and despite his innate dislike of crowds he found himself feeling

  unpleasantly exposed right now. "Actually, we're not working with him

  so much as we are working for him. Pairor, can you see where he's

  gotten to?"

  "No, don't turn around," Hal said quickly. "We might be under

  observation, and we don't want to tip them off that we've got a

  rearguard."

  Trell threw him a sideways look. There was something in his voice

  right then that emphatically did not belong in a down-luck drifter. A
/>
  tone of authority, spoken by a person who was used to having his orders

  obeyed . . .

  Pairor rumbled. "Trouble," he said.

  Trell craned his neck. He could see Sajsh's booth ahead now, closed up

  for the night.

  The booth beside it, the booth they were headed for, was also closed.

  "Great," he growled, stopping. "Still no one there."

  "No, don't stop," a soft voice came from behind him.

  Trell felt his heart seize up. "What?"

  "You heard the man," a different voice said, this one coming from

  behind Hal. "Keep walking."

  With an effort, Trell got his feet moving again. "Are you with Borbor

  Crisk?"

  There was a snort. "Hardly," the first voice said with obvious

  contempt. "Keep it casual, and don't try to be clever. We'd prefer to

  deliver you in fully working condition."

  Trell swallowed hard. "Where are we going?"

  "For now, behind Sajsh's booth," the other said. "After that . .

  . you'll see."

  "I'm sure," Trell murmured, heart pounding in his ears. Still, there

  was one thing the kidnappers didn't know. Jodo Kast, one of the finest

  bounty hunters in the galaxy, was somewhere behind them. Any minute

  now he would jump out from wherever he was hiding, blasters blazing

  with micron accuracy, and flip the tables com

  pletely on them.

  Any minute now, and they'd hear the roar of blasters. Any minute now

  .

  . .

  He was still waiting for that minute as the kidnappers herded the three

  of them aboard a speeder truck, sealed the doors, and drove off into

  the gathering dusk.

  Side Trip Part Two

  by Michael A. Stackpole Corran Horn's feeling that something was wrong

  got a big boost from his first glimpse of the Hopskip. The freighter

  looked as if someone had taken a stock Corel-lian Yr-1300, split the

  disk along a line running from bow to stern, flopped one half on top of

  the other, then patched it together with whatever scrap metal was

  conveniently at hand. Corran had seen uglier ships, but none that were

  supposed to be operational.

  He waited for Riij to close the gateway to the hangar

  bay before he made a comment. "I guess smuggling doesn't pay what it once used

  to?"

  Maranne's hard eyes flashed angrily. "We're traders, not smugglers."

  Corran raised his hands. "Call it what you want. With Imp rules and

  regs out there, what starts as a trading trip could end up as a

  smuggling run."

  Surprise played through Maranne's dark blue eyes, then she turned away

  and scratched at the back of her neck. "I'll get the landspeeder."

  Her surprise at his comment made her statement come a bit too fast, and

  Corran thought perhaps he caught a hint of fear in her words.

  Definitely more here than meets the eye. The second he saw the ship,

  Corran abandoned any suspicion that these people were hard-edged

  smugglers coming to deliver supplies to Borbor Crisk. The things Crisk

  needed to wage his little war with Zekka Thyne and Black Sun for

  supremacy in the Corellian underworld weren't the sorts of things that

  would be entrusted to the crew of the Hopskip. Actually, for Crisk to

  depose Thyne would require a Star Destroyer, which this ship isn't, and

  a legion of stormtroopers, which isn't hidden here.

  Corran saw Maranne disappear through a hatch in the freighter, so he

  turned his attention to Riij. "Shipping with her can't be too rough.

  She's pretty easy on the eyes.

  Known her long?"

  The slender man shook his head, then ran a hand across his short, spiky

  white hair. "Just along for the ride.

  If I do some work, I get some pay by the time we reach our

  destination." Riij smiled carefully. "You been working with your

  partner long?"

  "Off and on." Corran shrugged. Riij's quick questioning of Corran

  about his background played to most people's tendency to want to talk

  about themselves, It's a technique you learn to exploit when fishing

  for information from suspects. Either Riij has had training, is very

  private, or both. "Known him for a long time, but started running

  together recently. Bonded through bad times, you know?

  Like you and the Tunroth."

  "You recognize him as a Tunroth?"

  "Hal and me, we might be locals, but that doesn't mean we've not been

  around." Corran took a step back as Maranne lowered the rear loading

  ramp on the Hop-skip. "He got a life debt toward you or something?"

  "Life debt is a Wookiee thing." Riij frowned, then started up the ramp

  to the freighter's hold. "Rathe and I are just traveling on the same

  ship. No connection beyond that."

  "Got it." Corran kept an easy smile on his face while cataloguing the

  information Riij had just supplied him.

  Corran knew life debts were a matter of Wookiee honor, but he only knew

  of them because of the Imperial warrants and advisories about Han Solo

  and the Wookiee working with him. Most folks don't know Wookiees exist

  or, at best, know Imps use them for slave labor. Folks who know more

  about Wookiees are usually Rebel sympathizers.

  He followed Riij up the ramp and started looking around for clues to

  what the Hopskip's crew was doing in Coronet City. As a member of the

  Corellian Security Force, Corran had access to most information about

  the Rebellion and its connections to CoreIlia. At least I have it when

  that worthless Imp Intelligence liaison officer isn't around.

  While it was true that two of the Alliance's heroes were from CoreIlia,

  the Emperor's tightening of his grip on CoreIlia and the placement of

  forces on the world had kept the Rebel presence down. Corran knew

  there were Rebel cells in residence, and he'd gladly have run any of

  them in, but he didn't see them being so bold or so desperate as to try

  to hook up with Crisk.

  Corran slid past the battered nose of the old land-speeder--like the

  ship, it looked as if it had been cobbled together from parts. It only

  had two seats, like a fancy speeder, but had a flat bed grafted on to

  the back. Except where dents let silvery metal show through, an even,

  dirt-brown coat of primer covered the vehicle. Not fast, not strong,

  but beats hauling this stuff on my back.

  The bank of boxes that Maranne and Riij were freeing

  from cargo-net tie-downs immediately attracted his attention.

  They were uniform in size and non-descript, but that struck Corran as

  odd. All of them had exteriors formed out of green duraplast that was

  a couple shades darker than his eyes, yet none of the rectangular boxes

  bore the streaking and scarring common on duraplast boxes.

  None had holographic tags, scuff marks or other signs of use, yet all

  had been bound with duraplast cables and fixed with a holographic

  seal.

  As he lifted the first one from the top of the pile he felt nothing

  shift inside the boxes, nor was there a need for him to locate the

  box's balance point. He shook his head.

  "Where did you guys get sleight boxes?"

  Maranne and Riij both stopped as Corran set his box down on the

  landsp
eeder's bed. The woman frowned.

  "What's a sleight box?"

  "If you don't know what a sleight box is, maybe you aren't

  smugglers."

  Corran tapped a finger on the top of his box. "It looks ordinary, but

  it has a low-power repul-sorlift coil matrix and power-supply built

  into the casing.

  It neutralizes the weight of whatever is inside. These boxes could be

  full of thermal detonators or air, and we'd never know.

  Smugglers developed them to trick customs officials, but most

  customs-droids know what to scan for now."

  Maranne set her box down next to his. "Interesting story. Seems

  you've done more smuggling than we have."

  "Maybe, or maybe I just know more about smuggling than you do."

  Corran gave her a sly smile. "For example, I know no one smuggles a

  cargo that's made up of unknown items. What's in these things?"