The Old Republic Series

by Sean Williams

  “Copy. What’s the timetable?”

  “Landing tomorrow. Should splash around in the birdbath for two days before flying south for the winter.”

  “Got it. Anything else?”

  “Nothing relevant,” the Director said after a brief pause. “Good luck,” he added, ending the call before Theron could ask any more questions.

  “Disconnect,” Theron whispered as the static of the open channel hissed softly in his ear.

  He waited for the comlink to click off before telling Gnost-Dural, “The Spear’s docking at Reaver Station to give the crew two days of R and R.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow. By the time we meet with Teff’ith’s contact they’ll already be back on active duty.”

  “It might be weeks—maybe even months—before the Spear docks again,” Gnost-Dural warned.

  “We need to convince Gorvich to move a little faster,” Theron agreed.

  Theron didn’t believe it was possible, but the speeder that took them back to Jigani Port was in even worse shape than the previous one. But his stomach wasn’t lurching when they touched down this time; he was too focused on the mission.

  Returning to the Crooked Finger, they found Teff’ith and her Rodian friend still sitting at the same table where they had left them an hour earlier.

  “Didn’t like the hotel?” Teff’ith asked when she saw them approaching.

  “Change of plans,” Theron said. “We need to see Gorvich today. Right now.”

  The Twi’lek shook her head. “Impossible. Three days, remember?”

  “I’m not playing around, Teff’ith.”

  Something in his voice made her take notice, and she let out a long sigh.

  “We take you to Gorvich. Follow us.”

  The instant Gorvich opened the door to his apartment, Theron disliked him. He was dressed in expensive, overly fashionable clothes—dark, tailor-fit slacks and a patterned shirt made from expensive Saava silk. He was wearing several ostentatious rings, and a thick gold chain dangled from his neck. His hair was blond, his features average, but there was something distasteful about his look—an expression on his face and the way he carried himself—that elicited a powerful sense of revulsion. When he opened his mouth to speak, he did nothing to offset the first impression, his voice arrogant, mocking, and self-obsessed all at the same time.

  “Hey, Sunshine,” he said to Teff’ith by way of greeting, flashing her a lecherous grin that made Theron want to pop him in the nose. “These the big spenders you told me about?”

  “Gorvich, Theron,” Teff’ith said, making her introduction as brief as possible. “You two talk. We’re done.”

  Gorvich laughed. “Sunshine hasn’t succumbed to my charms yet, but she’ll come around. They all do. I have a special relationship with the ladies.”

  “Keep talking,” Teff’ith said, tapping the handle of her blaster. “Make it so you never have a special relationship ever again.”

  He responded with a wink and another laugh before turning his attention to Theron.

  “Come on in. Let’s talk business.”

  The three of them followed him into the living room. Though the apartment was small, it was well furnished. Theron noticed that all the pieces appeared new, and they seemed more suited for a much larger place.

  He’s getting a little taste of success, Theron thought. Figures he’ll be moving on to bigger and better things in the near future.

  Gorvich settled himself into an oversized easy chair, but didn’t invite his guests to sit. Instead, he left them standing awkwardly in the center of the room.

  Trying to make us feel uncomfortable. Inferior. Like we’re servants waiting on him.

  “Heard you need to get aboard an Imperial space station,” Gorvich began. “Going to have to throw together clearance papers for the whole lot of them since you don’t know which one you want to visit. Gotta charge you extra for that.”

  “We know where we’re going now,” Theron told him. “Reaver Station.”

  “Still gotta charge you extra, I’m afraid,” Gorvich said with an affected shrug. “Started the paperwork when Teff’ith first called.”

  “Fine. Whatever,” Theron said, knowing he didn’t have time to argue. “But we need to leave today or the deal’s off.”

  “You must be inhaling some of your Kel Dor buddy’s atmosphere. That stuff will rot your brain. No way I can pull it all together today.”

  “It’s today or not at all,” Theron insisted.

  “Do you know how complicated this is? We need uniforms. IDs. Clearance papers. An Imperial shuttle.”

  “The Old Tion Brotherhood moves thousands of credits’ worth of contraband spice and stims through Imperial space stations every week,” Theron said. “You telling me you don’t have that stuff on hand and ready to go?”

  “I might be able to scramble something up in a few hours,” Gorvich admitted. “But I’m going to have to charge you a premium for short notice.”

  “Not a problem,” Theron assured him, though he wasn’t sure that was true. They had a lockbox stuffed with thirty thousand credits hidden away in a secret security compartment on Gnost-Dural’s shuttle, but Gorvich had all the leverage and he knew it. It was possible he might come up with a ridiculous price they couldn’t meet with the funds on hand. And authorizing more credits from SIS would take time … not to mention, a transfer of that size to any account on a gang-ridden planet like Desevro was bound to attract all kinds of attention from anyone involved in the transaction.

  Theron decided not to bring this up, however. Better to negotiate the deal, then try to convince Gorvich to settle on a lower price once he’d already done the work to get everything ready.

  “You know I can’t do anything for your friend there,” Gorvich told them. “Ain’t no Kel Dor in the Imp army. He’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

  “I will stay out of sight on the shuttle,” Gnost-Dural assured him. “I assume the kind of clearances you procure will allow us to avoid a search of our vessel.”

  “We have a couple of security folks we pay to look the other way.”

  “So, do we have a deal?” Theron wanted to know.

  “You don’t know my price yet.”

  “Just name it.”

  “Forty thousand credits.”

  “Done,” Theron said with no hesitation, relying on his partner to be smart enough to play along. Fortunately Gnost-Dural didn’t show any reaction.

  Two hours later they were in Gorvich’s private hangar while he walked them through the Imperial shuttle he’d procured. Teff’ith was still hanging around, though she hadn’t said more than two words the entire time.

  “Standard Imperial fleet issue,” Gorvich said, pointing to a uniform draped over the pilot’s chair. “Made you a corporal. Any rank higher than that starts to attract too much attention. You know who to salute and when? You mess that up and people are going to notice.”

  “I think I can handle it,” Theron said. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d gone undercover as an enemy combatant.

  “Got your clearance codes programmed into the ship’s computer. All you have to do is send them when they ask for verification. They’ll have you dock over on C wing. We’ve got an understanding with security there. Shouldn’t give you any trouble. After that, you’re on your own.”

  Gorvich scratched at the stubble on his chin and squinted one eye at Theron.

  “Teff’ith never did say why you were going there. You ain’t sellin’ nothing, are you? Because the Brotherhood won’t be too happy if you cut them out.”

  The way you tried to cut Morbo out of your deal on Nar Shaddaa? Theron thought.

  “Got a cousin stationed on one of the capital ships,” Theron said aloud. “Docking at Reaver Station. He’s done with the war. Wants me to come get him out.”

  “Desertion and dereliction of duty,” Gorvich said with a nod. “That I can understand.”

  “Anything else we need to know?” T
heron asked.

  “Guess not. Just hand over the credits and you’re on your way.”

  “They’re on our ship,” Theron said.

  “Great,” Gorvich said, rubbing his hands together in excitement. “Let’s go get ’em.”

  When they reached the Prosperity’s hangar, Gorvich let out a long whistle of appreciation.

  “Nice ride,” Teff’ith grudgingly admitted.

  “Wait here,” Theron said as he tapped in the code to open the boarding ramp, then climbed up and into the shuttle.

  Gnost-Dural didn’t bother to come with him; Theron was glad to see the Jedi had no problem letting him take the lead when it was appropriate. Even better, he knew his partner had his back if something should go wrong, as it had at the ODCC on Ziost.

  He opened the hidden security panel and dragged out the lockbox, then carried it back down the boarding ramp and set it at Gorvich’s feet and opened it.

  “Isn’t that a pretty sight, Sunshine?” Gorvich said.

  “Just hand over our cut,” Teff’ith replied.

  “Give me a minute to count it. Make sure your friends aren’t pulling a fast one.”

  “About that,” Theron said. “There’s only thirty thousand credits there. That’s all we’ve got.”

  “So go get more,” Gorvich growled.

  “We don’t have time,” Theron told him. “Not sure I’d trust anyone around here with that kind of transaction anyway.”

  Theron was watching the other man closely, ready in case he went for his weapon. Shooting Gorvich might mess up the plan—the corrupt guards on Reaver Station could be friends of his—but he wasn’t going to let Gorvich get the drop on him. In the back of his mind, he wondered whose side Teff’ith would be on if things got ugly.

  “We agreed on forty,” Gorvich reminded him.

  “I’m good for it,” Theron assured him. “Thirty now and ten when we get back.”

  “I’m not convinced you’re going to make it back,” Gorvich said. “I need enough credits to cover the cost of the shuttle in case you mess up and the Imps don’t let you leave.”

  There was no way the simple Imperial supply shuttle Gorvich was lending them was worth anything above twenty thousand credits, but Theron wasn’t going to argue the point.

  “Tell you what,” he said. “We get back, we’ll give you another twenty instead of ten.”

  Gorvich was silent as he considered the offer.

  “Good money, Gorvich,” Teff’ith chimed in. “Easy money.”

  “Okay, here’s the deal,” he finally said. “Thirty up front. Twenty when you get back. And you leave me the command codes to your shuttle as collateral.”

  “The Prosperity’s worth at least fifty thousand credits on its own!” Theron protested. Not to mention Gnost-Dural might have sensitive information on board.

  “Good incentive to come back,” Gorvich said. “Wouldn’t want you to ‘rescue your cousin’ and then take off somewhere.”

  From his tone it was clear he didn’t buy Theron’s cover story.

  Theron glanced over at Gnost-Dural, who gave him a slight nod.

  “Okay, we have a deal.”

  “Let me throw in one last wrinkle,” Gorvich said with a grin. “You take Teff’ith with you.”

  “What?” the Twi’lek exclaimed. “Why?”

  “Not sure what these two are really up to,” Gorvich said, “but I want someone to keep an eye on them. Make sure they don’t do anything that’s going to cause trouble for the Brotherhood.”

  “So you go,” Teff’ith spat.

  “Sounds a little too risky for me. Besides, you’re the one who brokered this deal. You’re the one vouching for these two.”

  “Just wanted the credits,” Teff’ith protested.

  Gorvich shrugged. “That’s the deal, Sunshine. You go with them or we cancel the whole thing.”

  Teff’ith glared at Theron, then over at Gorvich.

  “Want a higher cut. Hazard pay.”

  “Sure thing, Sunshine,” Gorvich said. “I’ll throw in an extra three thousand when you get back … if you get back.”

  She turned on Theron. “You dragging us on another suicide mission?”

  He shook his head. “Quick in and out,” he promised. “A couple of hours and you’re heading back. Easy money.”

  “Spend the credits before we get back,” she warned Gorvich, “and you wake up missing a finger.”

  “Sounds like we have a deal,” he said with a smile.

  CHAPTER 22

  COMPARED WITH THE PROSPERITY, the interior of the Imperial supply shuttle was cramped and uncomfortable. It had seating for four, but because most of the rear was occupied by the cargo hold, the chairs were jammed two by two in the cockpit with hardly any legroom.

  When Theron tried to sit in the pilot’s seat, Teff’ith pushed him aside.

  “You sit in back,” she ordered.

  Knowing she was still fuming over being forced to accompany them on the mission, he didn’t bother to argue. Gnost-Dural took a seat in the copilot’s chair beside Teff’ith without comment.

  At least this Imperial uniform’s a good fit, Theron thought as he squeezed into the seat behind Teff’ith.

  But though it was the right size, he knew from past undercover experience that the cheap material of the cuffs and collar would still end up chafing his skin.

  Just one more reason nobody should ever enlist with the Empire.

  A few minutes later they were on their way to Reaver Station, a journey that would take roughly ten hours at the shuttle’s top hyperspace speed. Theron would have been fine passing the journey in silence, but Gnost-Dural seemed to have other ideas.

  “Your friend Gorvich is an unpleasant man,” he said to Teff’ith.

  “Gorvich is no friend. Just work for him. Pay’s good.”

  “So that’s your driving motivation in life?” the Kel Dor asked. “Material wealth?”

  “Tell Ugly-face not to get all Jedi-preachy,” Teff’ith said over her shoulder to Theron.

  “Sorry,” Theron replied. “Jedi can’t help trying to save someone they think is in need of moral guidance. It’s like a compulsion with them.”

  “Don’t need saving,” Teff’ith said to Gnost-Dural.

  “You don’t mind spending your life surrounded by people like Gorvich?”

  “Just a stepping-stone. Won’t be there forever. Moving up the Brotherhood ranks.”

  “And when you do, you’ll find those in charge are even more selfish, brutal, and vicious than Gorvich,” the Jedi assured her.

  “Why we really going to Reaver Station?” Teff’ith asked, changing the subject.

  “To rid the galaxy of a great evil,” Gnost-Dural replied.

  Teff’ith snorted.

  “Gorvich is plenty evil. Should rid the galaxy of him.”

  “If you hate him so much,” Theron asked from the back, “why’d you save him on Nar Shaddaa?”

  “Don’t leave partners behind. Even scum like Gorvich. Part of being a team.”

  The next few minutes passed in silence before she returned to her earlier line of inquiry.

  “What’s going down at Reaver Station? Need to know if things get ugly.”

  “Don’t worry,” Theron assured her. “You just need to drop me off and wait inside the shuttle with Master Gnost-Dural for a few hours while I take care of some business. That’s it. Easy.”

  “Too easy,” Teff’ith replied. “Not your style.”

  “Maybe I’ve changed.”

  Another snort from Teff’ith ended all conversation until they reached their destination, and Theron allowed himself to slip into a light meditative trance—yet another useful trick he’d learned from Ngani Zho—to rest up and ready himself for what lay ahead.

  When they finally dropped from hyperspace, they had a clear view of Reaver Station; the massive spaceport was the size of a small moon. Struggling to look over Teff’ith’s shoulder, Theron could make out an enormous capital sh
ip docked on the far side—the Ascendant Spear.

  “Go ahead and open a hailing frequency,” Theron said, then added, “Better let me do the talking.”

  Teff’ith clicked the transmit button on the shuttle’s control panel, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak.

  “Reaver Station, this is Imperial shuttle TK-37059 requesting permission to dock,” she said, her heavily accented Basic disappearing as her voice slipped into the precise, clipped cadence common to citizens of the Empire.

  “Copy, TK-37059. Ready for clearance codes.”

  “Transmitting codes now,” she said before clicking off the comm channel.

  “You’ve done this before,” Gnost-Dural remarked, clearly as impressed and surprised as Theron. “Your accent is impeccable.”

  “Easy to fake Imp fancy talk,” she said, brushing away the compliment.

  The console beeped, and she pressed the button to reopen the channel.

  “TK-37059, you have clearance to land,” the voice on the other end said. “Proceed to Hangar Fourteen in D wing.”

  “Copy, Reaver Station,” Teff’ith replied, then clicked off the channel a second time.

  “I thought Gorvich said we were supposed to land in C wing,” Theron said.

  “Usually do,” Teff’ith answered.

  “So why the change?”

  “Maybe Gorvich sold us out. Want to turn back?”

  “No,” Theron said after a quick deliberation. “Go ahead and dock.”

  Teff’ith brought the shuttle into the open hangar bay for a landing and the air-lock doors closed behind them. A pair of guards—both human, both male—emerged from a door leading into the station, but they didn’t act as if they were expecting anything out of the ordinary.

  “Wait here,” Theron told the other two. “But be ready to bug out if something goes off the rails.”

  Exiting the shuttle, he approached the two guards, trying to appear casual even as his mind was racing. There wasn’t an ambush waiting for them, so Gorvich hadn’t betrayed them. But if these guards weren’t on the take, they might want to inspect the shuttle, and Theron couldn’t let that happen.