Gavin raised an eyebrow. "Uncle Huff?"
"The same. He said at the time he used some of the cache to arm his own security
force then sold the rest off. But I don't buy it for a moment. There is no way
he would have gotten rid of everything." Wedge smiled. "So, you're going to go
home, Gavin, and talk your uncle into sharing the wealth with us."
"I don't know if he'll listen to me."
"That's why we're sending Corran, too. Your uncle has secrets to hide, and I
expect Corran can ferret them out. That will help."
Gavin's face froze for a moment, then he began to smile. "I can get behind this.
Serves him right for always seating me at the children's table at family
gatherings."
"Gavin, he did that because you were a kid. Big, but a kid." Corran scruffed up
Gavin's blond hair, then looked at Wedge. "While we're on the world that water
abandoned, what are the rest of you going to be doing?"
"We're moving to our new home." Wedge held his hands up to calm the sudden buzz
of voices. "This move is a covert op, so we'll be taking a lot of precautions to
get there. There's no chance we can keep the location secret from our enemies
forever, but as much time as we can get up to that point is what we want. Pack
your things and get ready to move. The Bacta War is about to begin."
6
Corran Horn sneezed violently, initiating a wave of dust rippling across the
cantina table toward Mirax. "How can anyone live on this infernal world? Even
the dust has dust."
Mirax stretched languidly. "It's really not that bad, Corran, as worlds go. On
Talasea things would mildew from plate to mouth."
"Sure, but there you had ovens to bake things, not a whole world to do it."
Corran swiped a hand across his forehead, then shook the perspiration from it
in a spray that spattered a pair of hooded Jawas, who themselves stank of ronto
sweat. "I hate this."
She looked at him over the lip of her Corellian whisky glass. "At least it's a
dry heat."
"So's a blast furnace, but that doesn't make it any less hot." Corran arched an
eyebrow and tapped the stained and patch-welded top of the round table where
they sat. "And why are we here? This table has seen more combat than most of the
squadron's X-wings. The patrons here make this place look like a maximum
security compound at Akrit'tar."
"Keeping up appearances, dear heart." Mirax shifted to the left to give her a
full view of the t'bac-smoke-choked bar.
"Chalmun's cantina is known as the place that hotshot pilots hang out. I
certainly qualify on that count, as do you. Right now I don't need work, but it
could be that some of these folks need cargoes hauled, and those cargoes might
be the kind of thing we want. Can't hurt to be here. Besides, Gavin recommended
it as our rendezvous."
"Right. That's because he's never been in here before and did n't want to come in
alone." Corran allowed disgust to pour through his words, but he mitigated it
with a smile. "If I'd been asked to raid a place like this, my plan would have
begun with the phrase, 'After the strafing runs are completed
Shock rode freely on Mirax's face, but was exaggerated enough that Corran
figured she was really only mildly horrified at his suggestion. "This might not
be the most savory bunch of characters ever gathered together in the galaxy, but
they're not that bad. My father used to bring me in here all the time when I was
a kid. Some of these hard cases may be crusty on the outside, but they were very
kind to me. Wuher, the bartender over there, used to synth up a sweet fizzy
drink for me, and more than one of these guys would bring me little trinkets
from the worlds they'd visited."
Corran shook his head. "I'd have loved to see those Immigrations forms.
'Purpose of the visit to our world?' 'Murder, mayhem, glitterstim smuggling,
and purchase of a gift suitable for a small Corellian girl.' "
Mirax giggled. "Yeah, I imagine there are a couple like that in databanks
somewhere."
The sound of her laughter managed to cut through the dulled buzz of conversation
in the cantina. Corran sat up in his chair as he noticed two individuals turn
from the bar and look in their direction. One was a Rodian and the other was a
Devaronian, yet they both shared a lean, hungry look that made Corran feel
antsy. They started toward the table, and Corran took it as significant that
they abandoned full drinks at the bar, primarily because that left their hands
empty.
The Devaronian nodded curtly. "You are sitting at our table."
Seated with his back to the alcove's wall, Corran had
protected himself against ambush from behind, but it also allowed the two
ruffians full view of the blaster he wore. No way I can draw it and shoot them
before they get me. It seemed obvious to him that the simple way out of the
situation was to graciously offer them the table and buy a round for them. "We
were unaware of the situation here . . ."
"And we couldn't care less." Mirax jutted her chin forward and poked her left
index finger into the Rodian's middle. "If a pair of gravel-maggots like you
are sandsick enough to think we're moving just because you mistake us for
Jund-land dew-pickers, you better get used to careers as Sarlacc bait."
Corran's jaw dropped. "Mirax?"
The Devaronian thumbed his own breastbone. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
"Do you have any idea how little we care?" Mirax jerked her head to the left.
"Tell it to the Jawas so they get your name right when they bag your body."
The Rodian began buzz-squawking, but the loud thwap of a street club being
pounded on the bar stopped him.
The human bartender pointed a ringer toward the alcove. "Hey!"
His horns gleaming in the half-light, the Devaronian waved his protest off. "We
know, 'No blasters.' "
Wuher's face scrunched up in a sour expression. "Not that, sand-for-brains. Do
you know who you're talking to? That's Mirax, Mirax Terrik."
The Devaronian's grayish skin lightened appreciably, and the Rodian paled to a
new-shoot green. "Terrik? As in Booster Terrik?"
Mirax smiled.
The bartender nodded as he pulled their drinks from the bar. "Now you're
thinking. She's his daughter. Now's the part where you apologize to her or the
Jawas continue measuring you for luggage for your final jump." He glared at the
little knot of Jawas jabbering to each other. "Dibs on the Rodian."
The Devaronian bowed deeply to Mirax. "I. ah, we, beg your pardon for disturbing
you. I am, well, that's not impor-
tant, but if I can be of service to you, please, don't hesitate to ask." His
apology came accompanied by Rodian buzz-squeak, which Corran took to be a
simultaneous translation.
Mirax raised her chin and gave them a chillingly Imperial stare. "You're
blocking our light."
The two of them backed away bowing profusely. Laughter ran through the cantina,
bold in some spots and hushed in others, but amusement at their predicament
united the cantina for a moment or two.
Corran licked his lips and realized his throat was absolutely parched. "Ah,
Mirax, what poss
essed you to do that?"
"As I said before, keeping up appearances." She smiled broadly at him. "You've
really only seen the kind, sensitive side of me."
"I seem to recall you burning down a stormtrooper on a speeder bike on
Coruscant."
"Oh, yes, I guess there was that, wasn't there?"
"Yeah, there was, but even so there's no reason for provoking a fight like
that."
She shrugged. "I wasn't worried. You could have taken them."
/ could have taken them? Corran stared at her for a moment. "Thanks for the
vote of confidence, but . . ."
Mirax reached across the table with her left hand and gave his right hand a
squeeze. "I knew Wuher would intervenethis is an old game we've played from
time to time." Her right hand, the one that had been hidden from the open edge
of the table, came up and she deposited a small hold-out blaster on the table.
"I had things covered; but the moment Wuher mentioned who I was, I knew we'd not
have any more trouble."
Corran frowned. "Does everyone but me have relatives here? We land at Docking
Bay Eighty-Six because some cousin or something of Gavin's owns it, then he
takes off to set up a meet with his uncle Huff. Your father's got enough pull
here so that two guys who'd suck the eyes out of a dead bantha's head run like
droids being pursued by Jawas."
Mirax shrugged. "Tatooine is really a fairly small community. The Darklighters
are a well-known and powerful
family here. That estate we flew over on our way in here was Huff's place. And
as for my father, well, he had quite the reputation before your father tossed
him into the mines on Kessel, and his surviving his time there didn't hurt his
rep at all. I'm sure that in some CorSec bar back on Corellia your name would be
taken as being just as impressive."
"Maybe, but let's not test the reaction to it right now, okay?"
"I don't think even invoking my father's name would save you if you ran into an
old enemy here."
"And invoking my name would doom me if we ran into your father here." Corran
shot Mirax a sidelong glance. "Have you sent your father a message letting him
know that you've developed an affection for the son of his nemesis."
" 'Developed an affection,' have I?" Mirax toyed with the hold-out blaster. "I
thought we were a bit beyond that stage."
"True, we are, but no fair dodging the question."
She frowned. "No, I haven't told him. While you were dead, there was no sense
mentioning itI didn't want to be dealing with his anger while my heart still
felt ripped out of me. And in the time since you came back from the dead, well,
I've been busy; and ever since he retired, I'm never really sure where he is."
"Most folks, when they retire, settle in one spot and relax."
"Most folks aren't my father." Mirax smiled slightly. "For Booster, retirement
means he still does deals, but he does them for friends, not for profit. Folks
use him as a negotiatorhe works out terms and the like. It keeps him getting
the best of the business without the risk. He's happy, which is better than the
alternative."
Which is why you've not mentioned us to him. Corran nodded. / fully understand.
My father wouldn't have, so not having to explain it to him is about the only
good thing I can think of concerning his being dead.
Gavin came in through the doorway and paused in the foyer near the droid
detection unit. He twisted left and right, shaking a cloud of Tatooine's fine
dust from his tan cloak.
Beneath it he wore what was once a white shirt, a black vest, dark brown pants,
and knee-high boots. Around his middle he had strapped on a blaster and had tied
the lower end of the holster around his right thigh.
"Looks the fair pirate, our friend." Mirax raised a hand. "Gavin, over here."
Corran agreed with Mirax's assessment, though Gavin's sloppy grin kind of marred
the image. "Everything set?"
Gavin nodded. "I have a landspeeder waiting out front. It's not much, but it was
the best I could do. I tried to borrow one off Uncle Huff, but he said the last
time he loaned a landspeeder to someone from Rogue Squadron it wasn't returned
in the best of conditions."
"We might as well head out, then." Mirax stood and clipped the hold-out blaster
to her belt. She dug around in a pouch for some credits as she headed toward the
bar. "How much?"
Wuher shook his head. "Your friends got it." He glanced toward the Rodian and
Devaronian.
She smiled. "And they took care of you, too, yes?"
"The spirit of generosity, they were."
"Good."
Mirax followed Gavin from the cantina and Corran brought up the rear. He poked
his head through the middle of his desert tabard and settled it down around his
shoulders. The side flaps allowed for quick access to his blaster or the
lightsaber, but he hoped he would not have need to resort to either.
He felt kind of awkward wearing the lightsaber. It had always seemed to him to
be something of a genteel weapon of limited use. In his line of work, a Stokhli
spray stick and a blaster were usually considered more than enough to handle any
situation. Lightsabers had been all but unknown while the Empire considered them
a sign of being a Jedi, but now that Luke Skywalker was a great hero, some folks
had developed an affectation for them. It seemed to be the sort of weapon one
carried if one was afraid to carry a blaster.
That characterization of it made Corran uneasy to wear the weapon, but flipping
the bit the other way, he felt proud
to be heir to one. He felt as if he had the right to wear it. At first he
thought doing so might show disrespect for his grandfather, but then he
realized Rostek Horn had risked his own career a nd life to protect Nejaa
Halcyon's wife and child from Imperial Jedi hunters. Not only had he valued them
for who they were, but he had valued them in memory of his fallen friend. /
think grandfather would be happy to see me wearing this lightsaber and that's
all the reason I need to wear it.
Corran hooded his eyes with his hand as he emerged into the harsh twin-sun noon.
Gavin waved him over to the landspeeder. To Corran it looked a lot like the old
SoroSuub XP-38, but the normally compact, dart-shaped craft had been heavily
modified. The passenger compartment had been boosted forward by the addition of
more seating and cargo space between it and the engines. More disturbing than
how the addition had destroyed the fine lines of the vehicle was the fact that
beneath the dust Corran saw a pink and puce paint job.
Corran hooked an arm over Gavin's shoulders. "You know, the womp rats you
bull's-eye in a thing like this might be color-blind, so they don't care what
your speeder looks like, but, really, look at this thing."
Gavin smiled wryly and spun out from beneath Corran's arm. "It beats walking,
which was the other alternative given our operational budget. Get in. This baby
will still hit three hundred klicks per, despite the modifications, and the
krayt dragons don't see the color scheme as edible. We'll be there in no time."
The trip actually took half a standard hour, which wasn't "
no time," and
speeding through trackless wastes actually seemed close to forever. If it
weren't for the cloud of dust billowing out from behind them, Corran would have
been hard pressed to cite evidence that they were going anywhere at all. The
Jundland Wastes mountains became a heat-warped stain on the horizon, and nothing
else came even close to serving as a landmark.
Despite the lack of signposts or other waymarkers, Gavin got them to his uncle's
estate without incident. The brief
glimpse of it Corran had gotten from the Pulsar Skate as they came in had not
prepared him for what it really looked like. From above it looked fairly
normala compound surrounding a number of buildings including a tall tower.
From the ground what became apparent was that, aside from the entryway and the
tower itself, the buildings he'd seen were all constructed below the planet's
surface. Gavin slid the landspeeder to a stop near the entryway beside several
other land-speeders and then led Mirax and Corran down through the stairs to the
compound's main courtyard. The stark white color of everything aided the suns in
producing glare, but Corran realized that white absorbed far less solar energy
too much of which already made Tatooine unbearable as far as he was concerned.
A slender, gray-haired woman emerged through one of the arched doorways and
immediately smiled. "Gavin Darklighter, how you have grown!" Boiling out around
from behind her came a number of small children, ranging from toddlers to
curious preadolescents.
"Aunt Lanal!" Gavin trapped the woman in a hug, then freed her and performed
introductions that included her and the half-dozen cousins. Corran shook hands
all around, but immediately lost track of names.
Lanal explained that she was Huff Darklighter's third wife and all of the
children were hers. "Biggs's death shook Huff. He decided he wanted more heirs.
His second wife decided she wasn't interested in having any more than the one
she'd already borne. She left, and Huff married me."
"Biggs's mother died before I was born. Aunt Lanal is actually my mother's
sister, so she's my aunt on both sides." Gavin gave her a kiss on the forehead.
"Is Uncle Huff available?"
Lanal nodded. "He asked me to put you in the library. He's meeting with someone
else right now, but he should be free shortly."
"Great."
Star Wars - X-Wing - The Bacta War Page 5
