Star Wars: Scourge

by Jeff Grubb

  Angela Krin did not look particularly pleased to see Mander, despite the passage of two days.

  “It goes without saying that your actions reflect badly on my judgment,” said the lieutenant commander.

  “I don’t think it was bad judgment at all,” said Mander calmly.

  “You were my personal guests when you first arrived. For three days,” Krin said. “Three days. At the end of that time, you did not proceed out of the system as instructed, but rather immediately attempted to break the medical blockade, landing on a quarantined world.”

  “In all fairness,” Mander said calmly, “the blockade should have been in place to keep people from leaving, thereby spreading the infection. Breaking into a plague house pretty much carries its own penalty.”

  “You then violate CSA law,” she said, ignoring his comment, “get into a brawl with local thugs, and finally engage in a firefight with those thugs at the site of a previously unreported crash site—which may have been the cause of the plague in the first place.” Angela Krin shook her head and asked, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Before the lieutenant commander could recover, Mander added quickly, “We delivered medicinal spice to you before your own government could, making it easier to restore the rule of law on Endregaad. We took it upon ourselves to locate a missing Hutt, whose recovery both reflects well on you diplomatically and reduces the number of irritating holomessages you would receive from his concerned family. We took out a swoop gang that was terrorizing the disease-weakened populace, and in addition discovered that a deadly hard spice called Tempest was being smuggled onto the planet. All of which you could do on your own—and commendably well, I may add—were it not for the fact that you were trying to hold everything else together and maintaining a one-ship blockade. By retroactively delegating a few choice decisions in your report back to the CSA, you might even be commended for you initiative and problemsolving abilities.”

  Lieutenant Commander Angela Krin looked at Mander long and hard. Surprisingly, she allowed herself a laugh and said, “You are not what I expected from a Jedi.”

  “Oddly, you’re not the first person to tell me that,” said Mander.

  The CSA officer settled herself into her chair. “The CSA medicines did arrive, by the way, and are being distributed. The plague is, for all intents and purposes, curtailed.”

  “As I said, you had matters well in hand,” said Mander. “We only helped enable your efforts.”

  “And this Tempest you found …,” said Angela Krin.

  “You know of it?” asked Mander.

  “Not directly,” she said, tapping her datapad. “There are reports of this addiction all along this spiral arm. It is coming into the Corporate Worlds from outside, in particular those that have a lot of trade connections. And the increase in the drug’s usage is coupled with an increase in violence. Enough to reduce planetary efficiency numbers.”

  “Which makes it a problem the CSA cannot ignore,” said Mander.

  The lieutenant commander set down the ’pad and rubbed her face. “So I solve one problem to find a greater one. That Hutt you rescued, he’s not what I expected, either.”

  “I’ve noticed,” said Mander.

  “He speaks in Basic, and seems almost …” She thought for the word she needed, then settled on “… helpful. He gave a full reporting of his situation, and your contribution. He provided the engine numbers so we can track down the craft. He also provided some samples of this Tempest spice for my people to analyze. He has proved easier to work with than you were.”

  “He also plays holo-chess,” said Mander, tilting his head toward the half-completed game.

  “He plays very well,” said Angela Krin, “and he was almost complimentary about the CSA’s work against the plague. He said our efforts were sufficient.”

  “That is Hutt-speak for ‘thank you,’ ” said Mander. “But where does that leave us?”

  Krin smiled now, and it was a conspiratorial smile.

  “This strange young Hutt and I had some discussions, and he made clear that he thinks well of you and yours, and would like to see matters resolved positively. I suppose with some careful language in my reports and a commendation for Flight Officer Lockerbee, you would be cleared of charges and released under your own recognizance. As such, you and yours are free to go, with the general and blanket stern warning never to do this again.”

  “I will attempt to keep myself off plague-ridden planets with Hutts in the near future,” said Mander, grinning back.

  The lieutenant commander touched a few buttons on her desk, and rose. “I do have a message for you. I took the liberty of contacting the Hutts after your return, and sending them a full report. This came in response.” She touched a glyph and the head of one of Vago’s H-3PO units crackled into view, bleached to a white ghost by the transceiver.

  The droid burbled, “Popara, may his tongue always be tipped with sweet oils, extends greetings to the Jeedai Mander Zuma and his most capable associates in regard to the recovery of his youngest son, Mika, and hopes that you have found the agreement made to your liking. He wishes you to escort his beloved spawn Mika back to Nar Shaddaa, where Popara will be waiting to further reward you for your efforts, as well as speak of additional matters of mutual benefit.” The message cut off without asking for a response.

  “I don’t have to warn you,” Angela Krin said gently, “how dangerous it is to deal with Hutts. Even helpful ones.” She looked at her datapad. “I will check out Mika’s information on the spice smuggling. In the meantime, fly careful, Mander Zuma.”

  Mander rose and said, “Fly careful, Lieutenant Commander.”

  Outside the briefing deck, Mander encountered Eddey Be’ray, flanked not by guards but by a pair of shuttle pilots. “They’re letting me go down and bring back the New Ambition. They offered to fetch it themselves, but Reen would not let them know where it is. She’s possessive that way.”

  “I understand,” said the Jedi. “Did you have a chance to talk with the lieutenant commander over the past few days?”

  Eddey Be’ray shook his head. “Not I. Reen did the talking for the two of us.”

  “Reen said they were talking about men,” said Mander.

  The Bothan’s mouth spread into a lupine grin, “She’s pulling your chain,” he said. “The CSA was talking with us about a job.”

  Mander blinked. The idea that Reen and the Bothan would leave never occurred to him. “A job? What kind of job? Are you taking it?”

  Eddey held his palms up and shrugged, and Mander was suddenly aware that they were surrounded by four officers of the CSA. “Let me put it this way,” Mander said, pushing his other questions to the back of his mind. “Are you available for a short haul?”

  Again the lupine grin. “I think we can do that, but you’ll have to talk to Reen.”

  “Good enough,” said Mander. “When you get back with the ship, we will fit it out for a trip to Nar Shaddaa. Popara wishes us to bring his wayward child home to him, and I think we should oblige.”

  Eddey made an indeterminate noise. “All right. I have to admit, though, it’s hard for a Bothan to trust a Hutt. Professional rivalry and all that. But beyond that, there is more going on here than meets the eye.”

  “These Hutts have been very helpful. Even you must admit that,” said Mander.

  Eddey nodded. “But like Reen says, at their heart, they’re still Hutts. We should be careful with their gifts. You know that saying Mika quoted, ‘Information is like fruit’?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s a Bothan saying,” Eddey said. “They stole it.”

  CHAPTER

  NINE

  A NIGHT ON NAR SHADDAA

  “Once upon a time,” Reen said, “the Hutts did not live on Nal Hutta, or on its moon Nar Shaddaa. They lived on planet called Varl, and it was a terrible place, perfect for the Hutts. The world orbited two stars, Evona and Ardos, whom the Hutts s
aid were gods and lovers. Evona was consumed by darkness, and Ardos, in rage, exploded, destroying all the other worlds of their system and blasting the very atmosphere from Varl itself.” She tweaked the descent controls, and the traffic relays glowed green on her console for their final approach. The bow of the New Ambition dipped toward their destination.

  “Evona was consumed by a black hole,” said Mander. “Ardos went nova and is now a white dwarf.”

  Reen ignored him. “The Hutts fled before the devastation and came to the Y’Toub system, and found the world Evocar, which they called Nal Hutta—‘Glorious Jewel’ in their language. But Nal Hutta was occupied by another species, the Evocii, who welcomed them and thought to share their lands. The Hutts did not like the idea of sharing, and drove the Evocii from their world, resettling them on the largest of its moons, now called Nar Shaddaa. And then the Hutts took over Nar Shaddaa, the Smugglers’ Moon, and killed all the Evocii anyway.”

  “I am well aware of the stories and the histories,” said Mander. “I’ve read them myself in the archives. You have a point?”

  “The point,” said the Pantoran, “is that the Hutts have survived the deaths of their gods, and think of themselves as suitable replacements for those deities. They consider everyone and everything else expendable.”

  They had spent an inordinate amount of time in a holding pattern beyond the orbit of the Smugglers’ Moon, waiting for permission to land. Mander thought that while Popara was a powerful force in the Indrexu sector, his was not one of the Clans of the Ancients, the true ruling families of this world. He was ultimately a small fish in this wider and more deadly sea.

  Now, coming in low among the tall spires of Nar Shaddaa, Mander could think of nothing else but a mudwasp nest—always buzzing, always active, but with precious little planning. Nar Shaddaa was known as both the Smugglers’ Moon and as Little Coruscant, and though it had the sprawling urbanism of the former Imperial capital, it had nothing of that planet’s grace and organization. The towering spires of Nar Shaddaa were thrown up without concern for their effects on one another, and as such contended for airspace among boiling rivers of aircars and floater vehicles. These traveled in only the barest semblance of the ordered airlanes of the original Coruscant, and small craft weaved and dodged among larger vehicles like the New Ambition in a twisted confusion of air skimmers, speeders, swoops, flitters, repulsorlifts, and the occasional rotorcraft. Reen muttered a curse as a glidezep hove into their path, and Eddey’s knuckles were white beneath his fur as he clenched the control yoke. They were among the top spires of the towers, and the ground was still kilometers below them.

  “I will see to our guest,” said Mander, and left the pilots to the perils of navigating Nar Shaddaa’s airspace at rush hour.

  He found Mika in the galley with Orgamon and another Nikto, the other survivors left behind to salvage what they could from the Skydove warehouse and claim salvage rights on the crashed freighter. Mika had swapped his oversized zerape blanket for an equally large vest, brocaded in gold stitching. The two Niktos were sponging the Hutt with a concoction that smelled like rotting flowers.

  “We will be landing in a few minutes,” Mander said. “The air traffic is difficult.”

  Mika nodded. “The air traffic is always bad. Hutts take it as a good sign when no one has time to obey traffic laws.” He waved off his two supplicants with an instruction in Huttese to gather his belongings. Mander remained.

  “Your companion, the Pantoran,” said the Hutt.

  “Reen Irana,” said Mander.

  “She is the sister of a Jedi, no?” asked Mika. “Does she have the power within her as well?”

  “She is Toro Irana’s sister,” said Mander. “And while the Force can be strong in family lines, she does not have either the aptitude or the training of her brother.”

  “Yes, the aptitude,” Mika said. Then, “The brother—he is truly dead?”

  “Yes,” Mander said quietly.

  “And these Bomu, these Rodians—they killed him?” said the Hutt.

  “I think so. Toro was …” Mander thought for a moment on how much he should tell the Hutt, then said, “Poisoned. Drugged with Tempest. He fell from a great height.”

  “I am sorry,” said Mika, and lowered his eyes, almost in respect. “That would explain much, then.”

  “Much?” asked Mander.

  “The young female,” said Mika. “She was very curious about the cargo of the plague ship. She asked the CSA lieutenant commander much about it, and about what the Corporate Sector knew about the Tempest spice. Angela Krin in turn asked me and I provided what information I could. But I find it interesting.”

  “How so?” said Mander.

  The Hutt let out a nervous hiccup. “The man you sent to negotiate with my father is killed with this Tempest spice. And the plague ship I find was carrying this spice as well. Surely there has to be a connection. The galaxy is too large for such a coincidence, such a twist of fate.”

  “Hence the questions about the Bomu clan,” said Mander.

  Mika the Hutt gnawed on his lower lip. “I will check this out, once I talk to my father. I don’t know if we use the Bomu clan in our dealings or not. Something is going on, though, and if we are not aware of what it is, we are at a disadvantage. I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I,” said Mander. “If there is anything you can do to find out who is ultimately responsible, I would be most appreciative.” Mika nodded in agreement, but the Jedi did not make to leave the room.

  Mika looked at him. “There is something else?”

  Mander frowned, wondering how to best approach the subject. “Back on Endregaad, when we were attacked by the swoop gang.”

  “An experience I hope never to relive,” put in Mika, though he smiled as he said it.

  “Your help was … greatly appreciated,” said Mander. “But at the end, that last swooper had you dead in his sights …”

  “Yes?”

  “He missed you.”

  “You shouted out a warning,” noted Mika.

  “Not in time,” said Mander. “Besides, you were ducking before I got a chance to shout.”

  “I was … most fortunate, then,” said Mika. “I guess sometimes there just is a twist of fate.”

  And with that, Mika the Hutt closed his eyes—a sign of dismissal. Mander would have pressed, but a string of Bothan curses erupted from the cockpit, and he went forward to lend what moral support he could to the pilots. He did note that Mika called his Order the “Jedi,” and not the Huttese Jeedai. As Lieutenant Commander Krin had noted, Mika was a very odd Hutt.

  After what seemed like a small eternity, the bulk of the New Ambition nosed its way through the traffic and settled at last on a landing pad thrown out from one of the lower spires. The durasteel supports groaned under the ship’s weight, and a stricken look crossed Reen’s face at the idea that the pad could collapse, casting them into the Hutt-made canyons below. The supports held, though, and Eddey began deactivating systems and setting controls to standby. Both spacers slung their blasters at their belts.

  “Landing pad X-1256 AEB,” said Eddey. “Remember the number if we get lost and split up.”

  Mander let Mika lead the way down the landing ramp—the Jedi, Pantoran, and Bothan following, and the two Niktos bringing up the rear. They were greeted by another pair of Niktos, these armed with blaster carbines, each flanking a green protocol droid, one of Vago’s H-3POs.

  “Young master Mika!” said the droid, followed by a cascade of Huttese that Mander followed along as best he could. The gist of it was how valiant young Mika had been in adverse situations, how fortunate it had been for those on Endregaad that he had been present, and how wise mighty Popara had been to enlist the aid of such competent employees as the others that now followed in his illustrious wake.

  Then the droid turned to Mander and the others. “A feast has been prepared in your honor, to celebrate Mika’s return. You will accompany me and I will bring you to P
opara’s tower.”

  As he was about to accept the invitation, Mander caught a gleam of something on the catwalks over the entrance. He had been too slow, before, on Endregaad. This time he did manage to shout a warning before the sniper squeezed off a series of shots.

  Mander dropped to a crouch, lightsaber up, and alongside him both Reen and Eddey had their blasters in hand. The Niktos converged on Mika, who fell back a few steps behind their protection.

  The H-3PO unit had no such protection, and as it turned to look, it took a blaster bolt to the head. The cranial housing shattered under the force of the shot, and the now-headless droid staggered a few paces before collapsing.

  Both Reen and Eddey returned fire, but there was nothing after the initial shots. Mika motioned the bodyguards forward, and Orgamon and the others stalked to the entrance. They looked back and shook their heads. Mika returned to the New Ambition while the Niktos chattered on comms.

  Mika frowned and looked at the jade remains of the droid. “Not the homecoming I expected.”

  Reinforcements arrived in the form of an entire squad of Nikto family retainers, along with another H-3PO unit. Mander recognized this one from the dent in its temple, and wondered if the Anjiliac household had gotten a deal on buying the droids in bulk or merely taken over the factory producing them. This H-3PO unit remained behind to oversee the cleanup of its brother protocol unit with half the squad. The other half closed ranks about Mika and the others and marched through twisted passages and over bridges crossing steep permacrete canyons. At each new juncture, the Niktos sent in advance scouts to make sure the area and its inhabitants were not hostile. Mander noticed that despite the blaster carbines being waved about, few of the other inhabitants of the towers even paid attention to their presence, and those who did reacted by simply getting out of the way. Apparently such activities were common on the Smugglers’ Moon, in particular when the Hutts were involved.

  “Did you get a good look at the shooter?” asked Reen during one of the frequent stops as the Niktos were clearing the way.