by Troy Denning
“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. “Lando 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 confidences?”
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, 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 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 track one another, so our tugs don’t pile up when a good hyperspace lane opens.”
Han turned to Leia. “That actually makes sense.”
“As far as it goes.” Leia did not take her eyes off 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 glanced back at their confused-looking table companion. “Since when do tug captains have time to take on extra work as tour guides?”
The confusion vanished from Kaeg’s face. “Is that all that’s troubling you?” he asked. “My tug has been in for repairs for a month. That’s how Lando knew I would 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,” Kaeg said. “I’m worried that you aren’t going to let me guide you to Sarnus.” He glanced toward the door again. “But 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 reptiloid was so tall he had to duck as he stepped through the entrance, and his thick arms hung from shoulders so broad that they rubbed both sides of the doorframe. His 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 his pale 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. “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 that one?”
As Han 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 his companions. They eased away in different directions, one going to the far end of the bar, the other drawing angry glares as he jostled his way into the opposite corner.
Kaeg swallowed hard. “Deal.”
“Good,” Han said. “Tell us what you know about Nargons.” 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 so bad.”
“New outfit?” Han asked. He was no expert on the Chiloon Rift, but he knew the miners there were mostly independent operators whose families had been in the business for generations. “What new outfit?”
Kaeg’s lip curled in distaste. “Galactic Exploitation Technologies,” he said. “GET. You know them?”
Han had never heard of GET, 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 mean only one thing.
“Mandalorians!” Leia whispered.
“Yeah.” Han hated Mandalorians. Like their leader, Boba Fett, they had a bad habit of selling their fighting 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 GET. They’re 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 deal with Mandalorians, then you really can’t deal—”
“Relax, kid,” Han said. “We can deal with Mandos. We can deal with 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 tranquillity screen, but the cantina fell otherwise 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 crushers. Trouble is, vessels that big aren’t nimble enough to run the Rift—and even if they were, GET 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 instead,” 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 a standard year ago. GET showed up a little before the pirate problem erupted in such a big way.” Kaeg’s face clouded with anger. “And we’re pretty sure GET is buying from pirates, too.”
Leia shot Han a look that suggested she found the timing as suspicious as he did, and he asked, “What makes you say that?”
“Where else can you take a stolen asteroid?” Kaeg asked. “GET bought up all the small refineries. Now their only real competition in the Rift is Lando’s operation on Sarnus, and he would never buy from pirates.”
Before Han could agree, the Mandalorians arrived with the lead Nargon. Too huge to fit completely inside the tranquillity partition, the reptiloid stopped halfway through and, untroubled by the gold static dancing over his scales, loomed over Leia. 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 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 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 he was feeling better about the kid’s story. Gambling debts he could understand. He’d 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 his knee holster, but Scarn called the reptiloid off with a two-fingered wave.
“There’s no need for anyone to get hurt today.” The undamaged half of his face smiled at Kaeg. “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 flimsies 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 flimsies 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 miners’ cooperative?”
Scarn nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “You sign your share over to GET, then GET 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 co-op,” 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 flimsies in the middle of the table. “I’m not giving you a founder’s share. I’d be run out 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. Your choice.”
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 to simply bite off her head.
Leia ignored the glare and focused on Scarn. “How much does Omad owe, Ver’alor?”
The eye on the good side of Scarn’s face flashed at her use of the Mandalorian word for lieutenant. But the eye on the scarred side merely pivoted in her direction, its cybernetic cornea fogging as it adjusted focus.
Scarn studied Leia in silence. His sneer of contempt suggested that he had no idea she was Princess Leia Organa Solo, sister to Jedi Grand Master Luke Skywalker, and a famous Jedi Knight herself. And if Scarn hadn’t recognized Leia, it was a pretty good bet he didn’t realize that her companion was Han Solo, one of the finest gamblers in the galaxy—and someone who would know how a cybernetic eye might be used to cheat a kid in a high-stakes sabacc game.
Finally, Scarn asked, “What do you care? You his mother or something?”
Leia’s eyes grew hard. “Or something,” she said. “All you need to know is that I’m a friend who might be willing to cover his debt … once you tell me how much it is.”
She pointed at the transfer document and used the Force to summon both pieces of flimsi into her hand.
Scarn’s jaw dropped, then his gaze snapped back to Kaeg. “If you think hiring some old Jedi castoff will get you out of your marker—”
“She’s not exactly a castoff,” Kaeg interrupted. “But you’ll get your money, Scarn. Omad Kaeg is no shirker.”
“Yeah, but he is kind of a rube,” Han said. He looked Scarn square in his artificial eye, but when he spoke, it was to Kaeg. “Omad, the next time you play sabacc, make sure it’s not with someone who has a cybernetic eye. Those things can be programmed to cheat in about a hundred ways.”
Kaeg’s voice turned angry. “You have a cybernetic eye, Scarn?”
“He didn’t mention that?” Han shook his head and continued to watch Scarn. “You see, now that’s just bad form.”
Scarn’s face grew stormy. “You calling me a cheater?” His voice sounded exactly like the voices of all the other cheaters Han had spotted over the years—well-rehearsed outrage with no real
astonishment or confusion. “Because you weren’t even there.”
“No, but Omad was.” Being careful not to look away from Scarn, Han nodded toward Kaeg. “What do you think, kid? Fair game or not?”
It was Leia who answered. “Not, I think.” Her eyes remained on the flimsi. “Omad, a million credits on a marker? Really?”
“I needed to pay for repairs,” Kaeg explained. “And I’m usually very good at sabacc.”
“Oh, I can see that,” Han said. He was starting to wonder about the convenient timing of the pirate attack on Kaeg’s ship—and he was starting to get angry. “And I’ll bet after the pirates had you limping back into the station, someone at the bar was buying drinks and talking about the Mando sucker in the back room.”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Kaeg sounded embarrassed. “How did you know?”
“It’s an old trick, Omad.” Leia’s voice was kind. “Han has fallen for it himself a few times.”
“You have?” Kaeg asked. “Han Solo?”
“No need to talk about that now,” Han said. A few times was exaggerating, but he knew Leia was just trying to keep Kaeg from starting a fight she didn’t think they would win. Deciding she was probably right, he shifted his gaze back to Scarn. “So now that we know your marker is no good, why don’t you sign it paid—”
“I didn’t cheat,” Scarn said, sounding a little too insistent. He raised a thumb to the damaged side of his face, then popped out his cybernetic eye and slapped the device on the table. “Check it yourself.”
Han barely glanced at the thing. “I’d rather check the eye you used during the game.”
“That is the one I used.”
Scarn’s tone remained aggressive and hostile, but the mere fact that he had switched from intimidation to arguing his innocence told Han the balance of power had shifted. Scarn recognized the Solo name, and he was no more eager to start a fight with Han and Leia than they were to start one with him and his Nargons.
