by Jeff Grubb
Then Zonnos shouted in a drunken bellow, “They killed my father! Death to the Jeedai and his allies!”
CHAPTER
TEN
PURSUIT IN THE DEPTHS
Mander, Reen, and Eddey were fortunate, in that the first impulse of the guests and bodyguards was to pull whatever weapons they had, concealed or otherwise, and unleash a volley at the three accused killers. Fortunate in that the energy screen held and their initial high-caliber energy shots splayed helplessly against the invisible barrier.
Mander scanned the room. There was no obvious way out, other than the lift at the far side of the chamber—and on the wrong side of the now-howling mob. Popara probably had a hidden turbolift somewhere in his office, but locating and activating it would take time. Time they did not have.
“You have a plan?” asked Eddey. His small blaster had manifested from beneath his voluminous tunic.
“Get Reen and follow me,” said Mander.
Reen, her back splattered with blood, was already up. Two of the green-skinned Twi’leks were in shock, moaning over the remains of their Hutt master. The third descended on Reen in an enraged fury, head-tails lashing and sharpened nails curled to rend the Pantoran. Reen ducked inside the blow and brought her elbow up hard against the Twi’lek’s chin. The handmaiden went down with a whimper.
Mander ignored the battle and ran to the back of the audience room, to the grand window that displayed the expanse of Nar Shaddaa beyond. It seemed like he was looking out at an inverted sky, Nal Hutta solid, dark, and gravid above them, the lights of the city-moon cluttered constellations below. Aircars and signblimps moved like comets in these overturned heavens. Mander pulled his lightsaber and thumbed the switch. The blade erupted with a satisfying hiss. The Jedi drove the blade against the transparent wall.
The window did not break, and only grudgingly melted, which gave Mander hope. He strained and forced the blade through like an oarsman struggling against a flowing river. In a matter of moments he had carved a humanoid-sized circle in the back wall.
Mander looked over his shoulder as the first blaster bolts fell among them. The Niktos, Wookiees, and Cereans were using the doorway for cover, their carbine barrels jutting into the room beyond the screen. Apparently Eddey had hidden Reen’s blaster under his tunic as well, and the pair of them were returning covering fire over the cooling remains of Popara and the now-shrieking Twi’leks.
Mander kicked the molten oval outward, and it disappeared into the darkness, glittering in the reflected light of the surrounding buildings. “Onto the ledge!” he shouted, and stepped out into the void himself.
The ledge was ornamental, but ornamental in a Hutt style, which meant that it was narrow but not impossible for a normal-sized humanoid to navigate. He slipped out to the right, and Reen and Eddey followed him. The winds at this altitude curled around the buildings and threatened to pluck them from the ledge and send all three of them screaming to their deaths below. He flattened against the wall behind him and moved toward the corner.
Behind him, the window shuddered with blasterfire. Eddey flinched at the impacts.
“It is made of transparisteel,” said the Jedi. “They’ll be able to break through it, but it will take time. We have to get off this side of the building.”
The shots tracked them as they reached the corner, and now a pair of Niktos had made it to the egress the Jedi had cut and were firing along the side of the building behind them. Reen, pulling up the rear, used the corner for cover and returned fire. This wall was also made of transparisteel, and the Wookiees were concentrating their fire ahead of their path, hoping to break the window before the escapees got to that point. They were trapped.
“Good plan,” Reen shouted over the gusts. “Now how do we get off this crazy thing?”
“Shush,” said Eddey. “He’s working on it.”
Mander leaned back against the shuddering transparisteel and cleared his mind. Ahead of him one of the signblimps was sagging its way slowly across the sky. He reached out, mentally, and pulled it toward them. The lighter-than-air vehicle bobbled in their direction, but the droid driver revved its engines to let it clear the building.
“Size matters not,” Mander muttered. “Inertia, however, is a pain in the butt.”
He shifted his attention away from the signblimp and to the air between him and the vehicle. The air gusted away effortlessly, and pulled the blimp, with its surprised and cursing droid pilot, right up against the side of the building. There was a crinkling impact as the thin heglum gas envelope crumpled slightly.
“Jump on!” shouted Mander, but Eddey was already scrambling over the airship’s diode-laced sides, his boots knocking light emitters loose and scrambling the sign-blimp’s message. Reen took a pair of final shots and joined him.
Mander leapt and the transparisteel wall behind him shattered. Bolts laced among them, and a couple struck the signblimp, leaving jagged tears in the outer skin and puncturing some of the flotation cells as well.
The signblimp fell away from the building, losing altitude steadily.
“We’re falling!” shouted Reen. Beneath them, the droid sputtered a mixture of orders and obscenities in Huttese. Behind them, the blasterfire was already dropping off.
Mander pointed to one of the gallery bridges between skyscrapers and bellowed in Huttese, “Aim for the bridge!” He threw in a few Huttese curses as well. Whether the instructions, the curses, or the winds were the cause, the signblimp lunged to port and mated in an ungainly fashion with the span. The impact burst the bulk of the flotation cells and the bridge groaned as the entire weight settled upon it. The three escapees clambered onto the bridge and into the wide atriums of an adjoining skybridge.
“What happened back there?” said Reen.
“Our patron, Popara the Hutt, blew up,” said Mander.
“I caught that part,” said the Pantoran. “How?”
“Binary bioexplosive, most likely,” said Eddey. “One component administered by one vector, the other administered by another. Neither traceable as dangerous by itself.”
“Something in the smoke, something in the worms,” said Mander, “and maybe a trigger as well to go off at a certain time or in a particular place. We’d have to search the penthouse.”
“Unlikely they would let us do that. Zonnos has already determined we’re responsible,” Eddey said.
“He was quick with the accusation,” said Reen. “And he was giving you the hard eyes the entire meal. Think he was expecting it?” Her implication was clear: Do you think he did it?
“Perhaps,” said Mander. “Or maybe Lungru or Parella or someone we don’t know about.”
“Or perhaps the Bomu clan is not as incompetent as we thought,” Reen added. “The Hutts do not lack for enemies and schemes.”
Mander thought about it. “Adding the attempt on Mika’s life this morning, it is most likely an effort to thin the ranks of Hutts interested in where the Tempest comes from.” He looked around. “Either of you know where we are?”
“No,” said Eddey. “We could probably find our way back to the New Ambition, but it is likely that Zonnos and his Wookiees will get there first. No, make that definitely.”
“We just got that ship!” said Reen. “We can’t abandon it!”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Eddey said. Reen scowled at the Bothan.
“We have the datapad of tapcafs selling Tempest,” said Mander, producing the pad from beneath his robes. “If Popara’s death is connected with the spice, we can track our suspects through it.”
“And maybe find a ship to get us offplanet,” added Eddey. “There should be a surplus of shady spacers on the Smugglers’ Moon.”
“Regardless, I’m going to need a new outfit,” said Reen. “I reek of dead Hutt lord.”
The vendor-droid they came across was supremely disinterested in Reen’s bloodstained gear, and suitable replacements were gathered, along with hooded robes for both Eddey and Mander. The vendor-droi
d wasn’t the only one incurious about the trio. The bulk of Nar Shaddaa’s population seemed singularly unaware of Popara’s sudden and explosive passing, or that there was any pursuit of his accused assassins.
“It is the nature of the Hutts,” Eddey said. “They try to solve things inside the family. Let’s hope it stays that way. What is our first opportunity?”
Kuzbar’s Cantina was an upscale tapcaf on level 42, not far from Popara’s skytower. A Rodian chanteuse warbled in the corner in Huttese, accompanied by a Bimm on a Kloo horn. The barkeep, a member of a humanoid species that Mander could not immediately place, took a few credits from them and directed them to a particularly corpulent Sullustan named Min Gost, who had occupied a corner booth like his own personal fiefdom.
“I understand you’re looking for information,” said the Sullustan, lacing his fingers before him on the table in an expectant pose.
“We need travel offplanet,” said Mander. “Can you arrange it?”
“Easy for me, expensive for you,” said Min, his lips curling up in an amused expression.
“Set it up,” said Mander. “Payment on delivery.” The Sullustan shrugged.
“What do you know about Tempest?” Reen asked suddenly. Mander frowned. In his desire to get everyone away, he had forgotten why he had the list of tapcafs in the first place.
The Sullustan’s eyebrows twitched. “Others have been asking about Tempest. Those others smell of military, and I have told them nothing.”
“Do we smell of military?” asked Reen, and the Sullustan laughed. Mander put several Huttese truguts and a few of his remaining credits on the table. Reen smiled back and pressed, “So what do you know about Tempest?”
“I know many things about this Tempest,” said Min. “It is new. It is profitable. It is very, very hard. Tends to kill your customers. Bad for repeat business. You want some, I can find some for you.”
“Do you know where it comes from?” asked Reen.
Min shrugged again. “No one knows. We had a dealer here, Rinnix. Nice Trandoshan male. Did good business. No one has seen him for a while.”
“You know where he got his supply?” asked Reen, and Mander moved to put a few more coins from his depleted supply on the table, but the Sullustan waved him back. “If I knew, I would not be selling information. I would be selling Tempest.”
“Who did this Rinnix sell it to?” asked Eddey, and the fat Sullustan blinked, as if noticing the Bothan for the first time.
The Sullustan paused, rolling the flavor of his information on his tongue before letting it loose. “A select few. Mostly upscale. Popara’s boy, Zonnos, was a buyer.”
Reen sat upright and looked around the room. “Zonnos comes here?”
Again the Sullustan laughed, “A Hutt lord’s son here? No. He sends his Wookiees. He thinks he is being subtle, but who else employs Wookiees?” He laughed again.
A squat droid with a holoprojector mounting on its bulbous head lumbered into the tapcaf, taking up a position in the center of the room. It let out a soft clanging noise to draw attention. Mander felt the hairs on the back of his head bristle as the face of Zonnos the Hutt manifested in the holobeam. Mander realized now that he could see the veins at the sides of Zonnos’s head throb with anger.
“Wundara Nar Shaddaa seetazz!” boomed Zonnos in Huttese, a melodious female voice translating in Basic simultaneously. “Attention citizens of Nar Shaddaa! Popara Anjiliac the mighty has been assassinated, cruelly slain by these creatures!” The screen changed to pictures of Reen, Eddey, and Mander, taken in one of the turbolifts before the party. “I will pay one hundred thousand peggats for their arrest and/or destruction!” The holobeam winked off and the droid turned to leave.
Mander fought the urge to scan the other patrons to see if they had noticed them. Reen flipped up the hood of her new jacket. Eddey leaned back into the deep plush of the booth. “I don’t think it is being kept in the family anymore,” he muttered.
Min Gost laced his chubby fingers in front of him again and smiled at the three fugitives. “So, it seems I have a question for you: how much of my silence are you willing to pay for?”
“How long do you think we have?” said Reen as they left the tapcaf.
Mander was scanning the area outside for immediate threats. It was a maze of archways and bridges. He considered the remainder of his funds provided to the Sullustan, translated it into time, and divided by two. “Twenty minutes before he tells someone we were here. If we’re lucky.”
They were not lucky, and the Sullustan was greedier than they thought. It turned out they had only ten. They had descended one of the larger interior ramps and were making for one of the more fragile suspension connectors when there was a hideous screeching of metal behind them, and a thunderous, mechanical voice shouted out: “Hagwa doopee!” Don’t move!
Turning, Mander saw a strange form emerge from the shadows of an archway beyond the bridge. It looked like a Hutt wrapped in metal, its semi-fluid body covered with overlapping plates. Its neckless head was enshrouded in a dome of durasteel, with narrow windows cut for the eyes and ringed with sensors. The entity carried a stun baton in its metal-shod hands. The armored Hutt barked again, and this time a translation vocoder squawked in Basic.
“Flee, you cowards!” said the translator. “Make this a good sport! For you are the prey of Parella the Hunter!”
“You have got to be kidding me,” said Reen, and opened up with her blaster. Eddey joined her. Their bolts ricocheted off the metallic hide and into the space between the buildings.
“Flee!” shouted the translator. “Do not make it too easy for me!” Parella the Iron Hutt lumbered onto the bridge. Its supporting wires hummed at the additional weight, and the bridge itself sagged slightly.
“Can we outrun it?” asked Reen, still firing.
“Possible,” said Eddey. Small wheels appeared at the edges of the battlesuit. “Make that unlikely.”
“I will handle this,” Mander said. “You go on, find a place to hide, and wait for me.” He unleashed his lightsaber. “Five minutes, then go on without me. Check the other tapcafs on the list, and if they don’t pan out find a ship off this moon.”
Eddey and Reen fell back, firing at the Hutt’s eye-slits as they did so, only to discover that the windows were as heavily reinforced as the rest of the suit. For his part, Mander strode back onto the bridge, lightsaber in hand.
“Oho, a challenge!” said the Hutt, and raised its one-handed stun baton in a salute.
Mander returned the salute and leapt forward in a sweeping overhand attack, his blade catching the stun baton. The lightsaber should have sliced through the baton, but instead it slid along the haft, leaving the weapon unscathed.
“Mandalorian iron,” belched the vocoder. Parella brought the baton around, its surface humming with accumulated discharge. Mander somersaulted backward, landed on his feet, and launched himself at his assailant.
Mander ran forward and the Hutt swung low, hoping to chop out his legs beneath him. The Jedi jumped at the last moment, clearing the blade and pushing off from the armored Hutt’s gauntlets. He landed on the helmeted head and drove his blade downward, between its eyes.
Or rather, he attempted to do so. The blade slid off the helmet as effortlessly as it did the weapon. Mander was surprised, and his surprise became literal shock as electricity raged through his body. He fell backward, holding on to his lightsaber but landing in a sprawl on the bridge, its support cables straining from the weight.
The armored Parella could have pressed the advantage, but instead let out a throaty laugh, its vocoder keeping up with it. “You cannot cut my weapon. You cannot cut my armor. Your allies have all fled. What now, little Jeedai?”
What now, indeed, wondered Mander. He picked himself up and saluted the Hutt once more. The Hutt returned the salute and Mander charged again, exactly as before. The Hutt brought up his stun baton to block, but this time Mander took the parrying blow and slashed to his right, slicing throug
h the bridge’s support cable on that side. Then he rolled to the left and, coming up, cut through the cables on the other side.
The armored Hutt spun on its wheels to face him, raising its baton to smash him off the bridge. That was when, even through his sensors, Parella could hear the sound of the bridge’s cables begin to separate, the metal peeling back as the strands gave way one at a time.
Parella the Hunter had time to let out a surprised curse as the remaining support cables separated with sharp twangs, and the bridge surface cracked apart beneath the heavy Hutt. Mander leapt for one of the hanging cables. Parella lunged forward as well, hoping to take the Jedi with him, but the Hutt’s gauntlets closed on empty air and the great metallic slug fell, tumbling end-over-end into the canyon between the buildings.
Mander, hanging from one of the remaining cables, sheathed his lightsaber, then swung himself overhand toward the remaining stump of the bridge. Once he landed, he looked down, but all he saw were the swirling pollutants of the lower levels.
Reen and Eddey were waiting for him around the next turn. “What happened?” said Eddey, relieved to see the Jedi alive.
“We had a falling-out,” said Mander, no hint of a smile on his face. “We need to be more careful. Zonnos has decided to make this more than a clan matter, and we should see other pursuers soon.”
They made their way carefully now, their hoods up, through the lower areas. The opulence of the upper levels was far behind, and the walls were stained with blood, oil, and other fluids. The walkways were crazed with cracks, and those inhabitants they could see watched them with suspicion from doorways and storefronts.
The Dark Melody was on level 35, and most of the inhabitants were aliens, brought here to Nar Shaddaa years before for one reason or another, and who upon arrival never developed the ability or the reason to leave. Attempts to secure passage offplanet at the Melody were met with derision, and when Mander asked about Tempest, they were directed to a Trandoshan corpse propped by the front door.
