“Do you have anything that isn’t Melahnese curry?” Milo asked.
“Of course I do.” Shalla laughed, her eyes sparkling. “I can make you nerf pie, berbersian crab salad, bhudde and orxtle stew…”
“Nerf pie please,” Milo said, his earlier tears forgotten.
Shalla smiled and turned to Lina. “And for you, dear?”
“The salad, please.”
“Do you want dindra sauce with that?”
Lina licked her lips. She hadn’t tasted dindra in years.
“Yes, please!”
Shalla gave the children another dazzling smile and slipped the datapad back into her apron pocket. “You got it!”
She disappeared into the Feast. She reappeared a few minutes later with two plates stacked high with food.
Milo gazed at the giant slab of pie as it was placed in front of him. “That looks amazing!”
Lina’s salad looked just as inviting. “It does, but how much will it cost?” She looked up at the captain, biting her lip. “We don’t have a lot of credits.”
Shalla leaned close to them. “It’s on the house,” she whispered. “Just don’t tell everyone. They’ll all be wanting freebies!”
She pulled up a stool of her own and sat at the table. “What are you waiting for? Eat up!”
The children didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing cutlery from a metal tub, they dug into their meals, cramming forkfuls of the gorgeous food into their mouths. Everything tasted so good. The Naboo lettuce was crisp and fresh, while the buttered crab sticks melted on Lina’s tongue. And the sauce was so tangy her taste buds felt like they were dancing!
“Good?” Shalla inquired.
“Moh yefph!” Milo said with his mouth full.
Shalla laughed. “You know, I travel this entire sector, setting up shop from port to port. I’ve cooked for freighter crews all along the Kessel Run. But I’ve never seen anyone enjoy my food as much as you two!”
“It’s really good,” Lina said, taking another bite.
Shalla smiled fondly. Then, for a moment a deep sadness seemed to shadow her usually cheerful features. “You remind me of my own daughter.”
“Does she travel with you?” Milo asked.
“Heavens no,” Shalla replied, regaining her composure. “She’s all grown up now. Off having adventures of her own—but it’s good to feed you two. Don’t see a lot of kids in places like this, with good reason.”
She placed a kind hand on Lina’s arm. “What are you doing here, honey?”
Maybe it was the food in their bellies, or the warmth of Shalla’s smile, but the children told her everything. About their parents, about Captain Korda, about coming to Lothal and losing CR-8R’s head.
“They just ripped it from his shoulders?” Shalla asked in amazement as they finished their story.
Suddenly, Lina felt the pang of loss again. “And we need it back. Crater’s one of the most annoying droids you’ve ever met. He’s stubborn and argumentative, but—”
“But he’s yours,” Shalla said softly.
Lina nodded. “He’s all we’ve got left.”
“Plus these maps your mom left you…” Shalla continued.
“Are in his head,” Milo told Shalla.
“Well, that settles it,” Shalla said. “First, I’m going to get you both a bowl of Bosphian trifle and then we’re going to make plans.”
Milo frowned, wiping a crumb from his lips. “Plans for what?”
Shalla smiled slyly. “Oh, I wasn’t always a cook, Milo Graf. Long ago, in another life, I used to be a smuggler.”
Lina’s eyes widened.
“I’ve picked up a few tricks over the years,” Shalla continued. “This Odai guy stole your droid’s head? Well, we’re going to steal it right back!”
LATER THAT DAY, as Lothal’s sun began to sink in the sky, Shalla Mondatha zoomed up to the entrance of Twin Horns Storage on a shiny silver speeder bike. She still wore her old knitted shawl, but the apron was gone and a wrap-around visor covered her eyes. Behind her speeder a medium-sized container bumped along, hovering on a repulsor bed. She peered through the open doors, watching Cikatro Vizago’s goons lugging crates around the lobby. Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses as she watched a Rodian slink down the street and through the doors.
That must be Rom, she thought, recalling what the children had told her. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself. It was now or never.
Leaping from the bike, she disconnected the crate and pushed it into the warehouse.
“Hey,” Vizago said, stepping in front of her. “Where are you going with that?”
Shalla narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
The Devaronian tapped her crate. “What I said! Where are you going with this container?”
Shalla shrugged. “It’s supposed to go in my crate.” She looked around, pretending ignorance. “This is Twin Corn Storage, isn’t it?”
“Twin Horns,” Vizago corrected her. “But this is a private business.”
Shalla gave him a big smile. “Then I’m in the right place. I had my droid open an account earlier today. I need somewhere safe to store my ingredients when I’m off-world.” When he didn’t comment, Shalla added her name helpfully. “Captain Shalla Mondatha.”
Vizago glanced at one of the two golden droids behind the main counter. It was already checking the Twin Horns’s customer lists. Finding a name on the screen, the droid murmured a reply to Vizago.
The Devaronian turned back toward her, a fake smile on his lips. “My mistake. I understand you paid for our premium service.”
Shalla nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. Only the best for my food.”
“We’re going to have to scan your crate,”Vizago said. “Nothing personal, you understand. Just standard procedure.”
“Of course,” Shalla replied. “That’s why I chose your establishment. ‘Security is our business,’ isn’t that what your brochure said?”
Vizago gave her another fake smile before turning to the Rodian. “Rom, scan the crate.”
The Rodian looked confused. “But Rom see boss?”
“You can see him after you’ve scanned the crate,” Vizago insisted.
Grumbling, Rom grabbed a handheld scanner and waved it over the container. Immediately, the scanner beeped furiously.
“Picked up life sign!” Rom reported.
Vizago’s smile faded. “Open it.”
Shalla shook her head. “I-I can’t do that.”
“Then it can’t stay here,” he snarled.
“You don’t understand!”
“Then show me.”
Shalla sighed, letting her shoulders drop. “Very well. It looks like I have no choice.”
“No,” Vizago agreed. “You don’t.”
Shalla ran her hand along the side of the container until she found a control. She pressed the button and the lid opened on its hinges, squeaking noisily.
A swarm of rainbow-colored beetles burst from the open container, spilling onto the floor. The Devaronian jumped back.
“Ugh! What are they?”
“Wakizan beetles,” Shalla said, watching the insects scurry everywhere. “They’re quite the delicacy in the Core worlds. I fry them in troogan oil.” She fished a paper bag out of her pocket, offering it to the disgusted Devaronian. “Would you like to try one?”
“No, I wouldn’t!” Vizago insisted as Shalla offered one to Rom instead. The Rodian took a beetle gladly, popping it into his snout and crunching loudly.
“Rom like!” he announced, and Shalla gave him another. Step one of the plan was in progress.
Step two happened as a red-furred creature scampered into the lobby, making a beeline for the beetles. It was Morq, chattering happily at the free meal.
“And now the monkey-runt is back,” Vizago shouted. “Today just gets better. Shut the lid. Shut the lid!”
“Yes, of course,” Shalla said, fiddling with the control. She pretended that it wasn’t working. “Oh
, I think it’s stuck.”
Meanwhile, Morq jumped around, scattering the insects everywhere.
“Can Rom see boss now?” Rom asked.
“Yes,” Vizago snapped. “Go! There’ll be one less pest here!”
Rom ran off. He hit the control pad on the security arch at the front of the warehouse with one of his sticky fingers. Shalla watched as a crate started floating toward Rom, presumably to take the Rodian to Odai.
Finally, she pressed the lid closed, cutting off the flow of beetles.
“I’m so sorry,” Shalla said as an excited Morq leaped onto Vizago’s head to swing off the alien’s horns. “But if I didn’t have to open the container…”
“Yes, yes,” Vizago barked, trying to grab the monkey-lizard. Shalla used the distraction to look around the warehouse. Rom was gone now, but she was staring at the keypad he’d used. The hidden camera in her visor took a picture.
She pulled out a small metal tin and started to scatter tiny pellets on the floor. Morq jumped down and popped one into his mouth before spitting it back out in disgust. He darted back toward the street.
“Now what are you doing?” Vizago moaned.
“It’s beetle food. They won’t be able to resist, see?” Sure enough, the insects started scurrying toward her, following the trail of pellets. “I can’t cook with them now, but I can get rid of them for you. Will you deliver my container into storage?”
“Yes, yes,” Vizago grumbled. “If you clear my lobby, I’ll deliver it any way you want.”
Shalla grinned. “Thank you! I look forward to doing more business with you.”
Before Vizago could cancel her account, Shalla hurried out of the building. The hungry beetles scuttled after her. When they were far enough away from the front doors, she threw the tin to the side, where it clattered against a wall. The food spilled everywhere, and the beetles descended on it.
The doors of Twin Horns Storage swung shut. Shalla returned to her speeder bike and found Morq waiting for her on the saddle. She gave the monkey-lizard a friendly tickle under the chin. “Good work, boy. That went better than I hoped.”
She pressed a hidden button on the side of her visor and viewed the image she had taken of the keypad. “Much better.”
With the press of another button, she transmitted the picture to a second pair of glasses inside the building. Nudging Morq out of the way, she threw her leg over the speeder bike and started the engine.
Their plan was in motion!
IN TWIN HORNS STORAGE, Cikatro Vizago crushed a lone beetle under his boot.
“Bugs,” he complained, lifting his foot. There was a gloopy mess on the floor. “I hate them.”
“What should we do with this thing?” said one of his lackeys. He was a trunk-nosed Onodone with a black patch over one of his eyes.
Vizago looked at the container and sighed. “She’s paid her money, so we better look after it. I’ve got a feeling that Captain Mondatha is the kind of woman who would go to the authorities if we lost her stock. But wait….”
The Devaronian walked over to a side desk and pulled out two rods. He held them over the container and they jumped from his hands onto the lid.
“Gravity seals,” he explained to the puzzled Onodone. “Just in case any of those insects try to push open the lid. Nothing can get out of it now.”
Inside the container, someone desperately wanted to get out. Beneath the pile of squirming beetles, Lina and Milo were curled up in balls.
Both of them wore black jumpsuits and gloves that Shalla had provided. She’d promised that the beetles wouldn’t be able to burrow in through the seams. Visor-like glasses protected their eyes, and breathing masks were clamped over their mouths.
Lina had her arms wrapped tightly around her head, her eyes screwed tight behind the visor. This was the worst thing she’d ever had to do. The beetles were everywhere! The bugs were packed in so tightly that they could barely move, but their little legs scratched against Lina and Milo. And the noise of hundreds of tiny jaws clicking together was horrifying!
She wanted to scream and brush the horrible creatures away from her body but knew she couldn’t.
The container was moving again, swaying as it was pushed deeper into the warehouse. She’d heard Vizago’s muffled command through the constant chatter of the insects.
“Take it to the holding area for processing. We’ll deal with it later.”
Just as Shalla had predicted, Vizago and his crew would leave the container alone long enough for them to escape. Even so, Lina was starting to panic. What if the plan didn’t work? What if Shalla’s beetles were put straight into a storage crate? They’d be trapped until someone opened the box again. Or worse, they’d be left there, in the darkness, with the insects.
Lina forced herself to calm down. They’d worked it all out. Shalla had told them exactly what to do. Lina just had to be patient.
The container thudded as it was lowered to the floor, scaring the beetles. Lina listened until she heard the footsteps fade away.
Count to ten, she told herself, maybe twenty. Make sure there’s no one around.
Everything was silent, except for the chattering of the insects. The container had been left in the processing area.
“Milo,” she hissed through her breathing mask. “We need to move!”
Her brother shifted beside her, pushing up through the beetles to shove against the lid of the container.
“It won’t budge…” he said, grunting with the effort. “Those gravity seals must be on too tight.”
Lina shifted around, planting her feet against the side of the container. “Shalla said there’s a loose panel over here, just in case something heavy got stacked on top.”
She pushed against it with her feet. But nothing happened.
“It’s stuck. Help me, will you?”
Milo joined her, pushing against the side with his own feet. Still nothing.
“Why isn’t it moving?” Lina started to kick, not caring if anyone heard her. She had to get out of there. Now.
“Lina, calm down,” Milo urged. “We can do this. We just need to work together.”
“No,” she said, kicking the panel after every word. “Need. To. Get. Out. Now.”
With the last kick, the loose panel came free and clattered on the floor. The beetles streamed out like a wave, Lina wriggling her way through the gap. As soon as she was out of the container, she jumped to her feet and brushed the last remaining beetles from her.
Milo slid out beside her. “Keep it down!”
She froze. He was right. Had anyone heard them?
As the beetles scampered to freedom, the children stood, listening. There were no shouts, no running footsteps.
They’d done it.
Pulling her breathing mask down, Lina ran to the corner of a stack of crates and peered around. They were alone in the warehouse, at least for now.
She glanced along the wall, spotting a red button behind protecting glass. It was an alarm, like the one by the arch. She nodded at Milo, who raced across to the wall, keeping his head down. Turning his face away, he smashed the glass and pressed the button. The alarm sounded immediately and an ear-splitting cry echoed around the warehouse. Milo ran back as they heard people headed toward the exit. Then they heard a whine from above as a crate descended. It landed in front of the security arch and the door slid open. Lina watched as Rask Odai exited the crate, flanked by Rom and IG-70 as they hurried their complaining boss out of the warehouse.
Lina waited for the main doors to close before grabbing Milo’s arm and pulling him toward the crate. They reached the keypad and Lina pressed a button on the side of her visor. An image appeared on the back of the lens. It was the picture Shalla had taken using a special filter that highlighted Rom’s oil-covered fingerprints on the buttons. If Lina worked back from the faintest print to the oiliest, she’d be able to figure out the code that would take them to Odai’s office.
That was the theory anyway.
> Milo was already in the crate. “Come on! Hurry, Lina!”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” she said, following the fingerprints to type out the code. The keypad beeped as Lina completed the sequence. She jumped through the door just as it began to close.
Inside the crate, the lights flickered on, and they began to rise, the repulsors lifting them high into the air. The trip seemed to take even longer than their first one.
“Do you think they’ve figured out that there’s no fire yet?” Lina asked.
“I hope not,” Milo replied as the crate clanked into place.
The door slid open to reveal Odai’s office, and the children ran toward the ornate desk.
“There it is!” Milo shouted, pointing at CR-8R’s head floating on its platform.
“It’s too high up!”
Milo grabbed Odai’s chair and pulled it beneath the hovering shelf. “Hold this steady.”
As he clambered onto the chair, the alarm stopped screeching.
“That’s the end of the fire alarm,” Milo said.
“Then they’ll be coming back,” Lina said frantically. “Hurry up!”
“Okay,” Milo said, stretching up. It was still too high, and his fingers barely reached the bottom of the platform.
“Let me do it,” Lina told him. “I’m taller.”
“I can do it,” Milo insisted, standing on tiptoe to grab the edge of the platform. Beneath him, the chair flipped over and he fell. He knocked into the platform as he tumbled to the floor. CR-8R’s head wobbled before falling over the edge and landing on Milo’s back.
There was no time to celebrate. A new siren cut through the air, shriller than even the fire alarm.
“Warning!” a computerized voice boomed. “Robbery in progress! Warning! Robbery in progress!”
Lina grabbed CR-8R’s head and helped Milo to his feet. “I think we just lost the element of surprise!”
AT THE FAR END of the office, the children’s crate dropped away. Lina ran to look down at the rapidly descending crate. “This is your fault. If you had just let me get Crater’s head, we would never have set off the alarm.”
The Heist Page 4
