Scoundrels

by Timothy Zahn

  Instead of answering, Han caught Leia’s eye, then tipped his head ever so slightly toward their tablemate. She nodded and turned toward Kaeg. After forty years together, he knew she would understand what he was thinking—that something felt wrong with Kaeg’s story.

  “We appreciate your concern, Captain Kaeg.” Leia’s tone was warm but commanding, a sure sign that she was using the Force to encourage Kaeg to answer honestly. “But I still don’t understand why Lando isn’t here himself. When he asked us to look into the pirate problem in the Rift, he was quite insistent about meeting us here at the Red Ronto.”

  Kaeg shrugged. “I’m sorry, but he didn’t explain. His message just said to meet you here and make sure you reached Sarnus.” Continuing to watch the door with one eye, he paused, then spoke in a confidential tone. “But I don’t blame you for hesitating. This trip could be very risky, especially for someone your age.”

  “Our age?” Han bristled. “You think we’re old or something?”

  Kaeg finally looked away from the door. “Uh … no?” he replied. “It’s just that, uh—well, you do need pretty quick reflexes in the Chiloon Rift.”

  “It’s called experience, kid,” Han said. “Someday, you might have some yourself … if you live that long.”

  “No offense,” Kaeg said, raising his hands. “I’m just worried about you heading in there alone.”

  “Don’t let a few wrinkles fool you, Captain Kaeg,” Leia said. “We can take care of ourselves.”

  Kaeg shook his head almost desperately. “You wouldn’t say that if you had ever been inside the Rift,” he said. “It isn’t the kind of place you should go without a guide on your first visit. The plasma in there kills S-thread transmissions, so HoloNet transceivers are worthless—and even emergency transmitters aren’t much good.”

  “What about the RiftMesh?” Han asked. Communication inside the Chiloon Rift was supposed to be handled via a network of fifty thousand repeater beacons. “All that hardware, and you’re telling me it doesn’t work?”

  “The ’Mesh works, but it’s slow. It can take an hour for a beacon to relay a signal.” Kaeg tapped the holopad controls again, and a multitude of tiny white points appeared in the holochart. “And it’s not unusual for a message to pass through a thousand beacons before being picked up. Trust me, there’s no lonelier place in the galaxy to be stranded.”

  “It’s a wonder any rock-grabbers go in there at all,” Han replied. “I can’t imagine a worse place to drag around half a billion tons of ore.”

  “It’s worth it, my friend.” Ignoring Han’s sarcasm—or possibly missing it altogether—Kaeg flashed a square-toothed grin. “The tumblers in the Rift are fantastic, Han. There are more than anyone can count, and most are heavy and pretty.”

  By stone and tumblers, Han knew Kaeg meant asteroids. Heavy and pretty was slang for a high content of precious metals. According to Lando Calrissian, the Chiloon Rift contained the most bountiful asteroid field anywhere, with more capture-worthy tumblers than any other field in the galaxy. Unfortunately, its roiling clouds of plasma and a sudden infestation of pirates meant it was probably also the most dangerous.

  “Which makes asteroid tugs very easy prey for pirates,” Leia said. “You’re hauling all that valuable ore, and there’s no one to call for help.”

  Kaeg nodded eagerly. “It’s terribly dangerous. You can send a message and go gray waiting for an answer.” He winced almost immediately, then said, “No offense, of course.”

  “None taken,” Leia said, a bit stiffly. “But with all of those asteroid tugs running around, I can’t imagine the pirates coming after a small vessel like the Falcon.”

  Not seeming to notice how he was being tested, Kaeg shrugged and leaned forward. “Who knows?” he asked. “Even if the pirates aren’t interested in the Falcon, there are many other dangers.”

  “And let me guess,” Han said. “You’re willing to make sure that doesn’t happen to us—for the right price?”

  “I could be persuaded to serve as your guide, yes,” Kaeg said. “As I said, any friend of Lando Calrissian is a friend of mine.”

  “How very kind of you.” Leia flashed a tight smile, and again Han knew what she was thinking. No trick was too low for a pirate gang, and one of their favorites was to slip a saboteur aboard the target vessel. “But you still haven’t explained why Lando didn’t meet us here himself.”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Kaeg said. “As I mentioned, he didn’t give a reason.”

  Han leaned toward Kaeg and pointed a finger at him. “You see, now that’s where your story falls apart. Lando isn’t the kind of guy who fails to show with no explanation. He would’ve said why he couldn’t make it.”

  Kaeg showed his palms in mock surrender. “Look, I’ve told you all I know.” He focused his attention on Leia. “He kept the message short. I’m assuming that’s because he didn’t want everyone in the Rift to know his business.”

  “And why would that happen?” Leia asked. “Do you have a habit of breaking a confidence?”

  Kaeg scowled and shook his head. “Of course not,” he said. “But I told you—Lando sent that message over the RiftMesh.”

  “And?” Han asked.

  Kaeg sighed in exasperation. “You really don’t understand how things work here,” he said. “The RiftMesh is an open network—open, as in one single channel. Everybody listens, with nothing encrypted. If a message is encrypted, the beacons won’t even relay it. That makes it tough to keep a secret out here, but it also makes life hard on the pirates. They can’t coordinate a swarm attack if everybody is listening to their chatter over the RiftMesh.”

  “And that really works?” Han asked.

  Kaeg waggled a hand. “It’s not perfect. The pirates find other ways to coordinate,” he said. “But the ’Mesh is better than nothing. And it helps the rest of us keep track of one another, so our tugs don’t pile up when a good hyperspace lane suddenly opens.”

  Han turned to Leia. “That actually makes sense.”

  “As far as it goes.” Leia did not look away from Kaeg. “But he’s been working pretty hard to get us to take him on, and that just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Han looked back to their confused-looking table companion. “Since when do tug captains have time to take on extra work as tourist guides?”

  The confusion vanished from Kaeg’s face. “Is that all that is troubling you?” he asked. “My tug has been in for repairs for a month. That’s how Lando knew I would still be here to give you his message. And, quite honestly, I could use something to do.”

  Han considered this, then nodded and holstered his blaster. “Maybe we’re being too hard on the kid,” he said. “After all, he did know about Lando’s stock of Corellian Reserve.”

  Leia continued to study Kaeg for a moment, no doubt scrutinizing him through the Force, then said, “Fair enough. But he’s worried about something.”

  “Yes. I’m worried that you aren’t going to let me guide you to Sarnus.” Kaeg glanced toward the door again, then said, “If you don’t want my help, you know how to use a holochart.”

  He started to rise.

  “Not so fast, kid.” Han grabbed Kaeg’s arm. “You’ve been watching the door since you got here. You expecting someone?”

  “Not anymore,” Kaeg said, still watching the front of the cantina. “If you don’t mind, I have things to do.”

  Han pulled the asteroid miner back down, then followed his gaze and saw a huge scaly green figure entering the cantina. The reptilian was so tall it had to duck as it stepped through the entrance, and its thick arms hung from shoulders so broad they rubbed both sides of the doorframe. Its spiny skull-crest almost scraped the ceiling, and a thick tail swept the floor behind him. The creature stopped just inside the room, vertical pupils dilating to diamonds as its eyes adjusted to the dim light.

  “Who’s that?” Han asked, keeping one eye on the newcomer.

  “No one you’d ever want
to meet.” Kaeg slid into the back of the booth and slumped down in the shadows. “Just one of the Nargons.”

  “Who are the Nargons?” Leia asked. “I’m not familiar with that species.”

  “Lucky you,” Kaeg said, sinking even deeper into his seat. “You should try to keep it that way.”

  “Care to explain why?” Han asked. “And while you’re at it, maybe why you’re hiding from them?”

  As he spoke, two more Nargons ducked through the door, their big hands hanging close to the blasters in their knee-holsters. They stepped forward to flank the first one and began to scan the cantina interior.

  Kaeg was careful to avoid looking in their direction. “Who says I’m hiding?”

  “Kid, I was ducking bounty hunters before your grandfather met your grandmother.” As Han spoke, the first Nargon’s gaze reached their table and stopped. “I know the signs, so answer the question—or you’re on your own.”

  Kaeg’s brow shot up. “You would back me?”

  “Assuming you’re really a friend of Lando’s,” Leia said cautiously, “and if you start being honest with us. Then, yes, we have your back.”

  The first Nargon said something to its companions. They eased away in different directions, one going to the far end of the bar, the other drawing angry glares as it jostled its way into the opposite corner.

  Kaeg swallowed hard. “Deal.”

  “Good. Tell us what you know about Nargons,” Han said. He reached over and tapped the holopad controls, and the chart dissolved in a rain of sparkles. “Like, where do they come from?”

  “Kark if I know,” Kaeg said. “I never saw them before the new outfit brought them in, when the pirates grew bad.”

  “New outfit?” Han asked. He was no expert on the Chiloon Rift, but he knew the miners here were mostly independent operators whose families had been in the business for generations. “What new outfit?”

  Kaeg’s lip curled in distaste. “G.E.T.,” he said. “Galactic Exploitation Technologies. You know them?”

  Han had never heard of G.E.T., but he didn’t bother to ask for details. His attention was fixed on the entrance, where two more figures were just stepping through the doorway. Unlike the Nargons, this pair was not an exotic species. Standing less than two meters tall, with shoulders no broader than Han’s, they were almost certainly human. But they were also wearing full suits of colored armor and blocky helmets with opaque visors, and that could only mean one thing.

  “Mandalorians!” Leia whispered.

  “Yeah.” Han hated Mandalorians. Like their leader, Boba Fett, they had a bad habit of selling their combat skills to the highest bidder—and the highest bidder was almost always on the side opposite Han. He turned to Kaeg. “What are Mandos doing here?”

  “They work security for G.E.T. They’re sort of handlers for the Nargons.” As Kaeg spoke, the first Nargon leaned down to say something to the taller Mandalorian. “Is this going to be a problem? Because if you can’t handle Mandalorians, then you really can’t handle—”

  “Relax, kid,” Han said. “We can handle Mandos. We can handle anything in this room.”

  Kaeg looked doubtful. “Tell me that after you figure out what a Nargon is.”

  The first Nargon raised a long arm and pointed toward their booth, then fell in behind the two Mandalorians as they crossed the room. The muffled rhythms of the smazzo music continued to reverberate through the tranquility screen, but otherwise the cantina fell uneasy and still. Judging by all the worried brows and averted eyes, Han half-expected the other patrons to clear out. Instead, most remained in their seats, and the miners in the crowd turned to glare openly as the trio passed.

  “Not real popular, are they?” Han remarked.

  “Nobody likes rock-jumpers,” Kaeg said. “Galactic Exploitation came in fast and hard with a whole fleet of those giant asteroid crunchers. Trouble is, vessels that big aren’t nimble enough to run the Rift—and even if they were, G.E.T. crews have no nose.”

  “No nose?” Leia asked.

  Kaeg scowled. “You need a sixth sense to operate here,” he said. “Outsiders can’t smell good rock, and they can’t see a lane getting ready to open. They have no feel for how the Rift moves.”

  “So they trail independent operators,” Han said. “And then push in on your finds.”

  Kaeg nodded. “Push in is one way to say it. Steal is another.”

  “And when did that start?” Leia asked.

  “About ten standard months ago,” Kaeg said. “G.E.T. showed up a little before the pirate problem grew bad.”

  Leia shot Han a look that suggested she found the timing as suspicious as he did, but before she could say anything, the Mandalorians arrived with the lead Nargon. Too huge to fit completely inside the tranquility partition, the reptile stopped halfway through and loomed over Leia, seemingly oblivious to the gold static dancing over its scales. The short Mandalorian—a squat fellow in yellow armor—came to Han’s side and stood with one hand resting on his holstered blaster.

  The taller Mandalorian placed a chair at the table across from Kaeg, then removed his helmet and sat. He had dark, curly hair and a burn-scarred face that still appeared half-melted along the left side. Barely glancing at the Solos, he placed the helmet in front of him, then folded his hands on top and leaned toward Kaeg.

  “Skipping out on your marker, Kaeg?” he asked. “I took you for smarter than that.”

  “I’m not skipping out on anything, Scarn.” Kaeg’s voice was a little too hard to be natural. “I’m just catching a ride so I can get what I owe you.”

  A muffled snort sounded inside the helmet of the shorter Mandalorian, and Scarn sneered. “Why do I doubt that?”

  “Look, you know what those pirates did to my tug,” Kaeg said. “There’s no way she’s leaving the repair docks for another two weeks, minimum.”

  Scarn shrugged. “So?”

  “So I’ll be back for her,” Kaeg said. “But it’s going to take more credits than I had before our game to pay for repairs. I’m just heading to Sarnus to make arrangements. I’ll get what I owe you at the same time.”

  “Arrangements with Calrissian?” Scarn rubbed his chin just long enough to pretend he was thinking about it, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. We don’t like Calrissian, and he doesn’t like us. We’ll do this another way.”

  “That’s the only way we’re going to do it,” Kaeg said. “I’m not giving you the Roamer—that ship has been in my family for two hundred years.”

  Kaeg overtly dropped his hand below the table, and Han tried not to wince. Hinting at violence was usually a bad idea when you were outnumbered and outflanked. But at least Han was feeling better about the kid’s story. Gambling debts he could understand, having had a few himself, and the debt explained why Kaeg was so eager to get off Brink Station. Han rested a hand on his own holstered blaster and tried to look bored, as though firefights against armored Mandalorians backed by overgrown lizards were a common occurrence for him … and, really, that wasn’t much of an exaggeration.

  The Nargon hissed and started to pull the blaster from its knee-holster, but Scarn called it off with a two-fingered wave.

  “There’s no need for anyone to get hurt today.” The undamaged half of his face smiled. “The last thing I want is that crate of corrosion you call an asteroid tug.”

  It was hard to say whether Kaeg’s frown was one of confusion or outrage. “The Roamer may not look like much, but she’s all pull,” he said. “She’s dragged moons out of orbit.”

  Scarn looked unimpressed. “If you say so. But I have another idea.” He extended a hand toward his Mandalorian subordinate. “Jakal?”

  Jakal withdrew a pair of folded flimsis from a pouch on his equipment belt and handed them to Scarn.

  Scarn unfolded the sheets and pushed them toward Kaeg. “Considering the size of your marker, that’s more than fair.”

  Kaeg eyed the flimsis skeptically, then reluctantly picked them up and began to read
. Scarn waited with a bored expression, as though the kid’s consent was irrelevant to what was about to happen. Han kept his hand on his blaster grip and watched the Nargon watch him. Jakal’s helmet pivoted from side to side as he kept an eye on the rest of the miners in the cantina, who were all carefully observing the situation at Kaeg’s table. The other two Nargons continued to stand guard in opposite corners of the room, their tails bumping the walls as they, too, scanned the crowd. But no one was watching Leia, who was probably the most dangerous person in the Red Ronto.

  Maybe the situation wasn’t as bad as it looked.

  Kaeg was still on the first page when he stopped reading and looked across the table. “Galactic Exploitation wants my family’s share of the miner’s cooperative?”

  Scarn nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “You sign your share over to G.E.T., then G.E.T. pays me, and your debt is settled. Simple.”

  Kaeg looked more confused than alarmed. “Why?”

  Scarn shrugged. “All I know is the bosses want to join your little coop,” he said. “Maybe they’re worried one of their yachts will need to be rescued or repaired or something.”

  “Then they can pay for an associate membership.” Kaeg tossed the flimsis in the middle of the table. “I’m not giving you a Founder’s Share. I’d be run out of the Rift.”

  Scarn’s expression grew cold. “Either you put your thumb in the verification box, or Qizak here rips your arm off and does it for you.”

  A nervous sheen came to Kaeg’s lip, but he looked into the Nargon’s eyes and managed to fake being calm. “Just so you know, Qizak, you touch me and you die. Clear?”

  Qizak bared a fang, then looked to Scarn. “Now, Boss?”

  Leia raised a hand. “Hold that thought, Qizak.” Her voice was calm and soothing, the way it always was when she made a Force-suggestion. “There’s no rush here.”

  The Nargon studied her as though considering whether to rip her limb from limb, or simply bite off her head.

  Leia ignored the glare and focused on Scarn. “How much does Omad owe, ver’alor?”