Canto Bight [Star Wars]

by Saladin Ahmed

  He reached out and placed a companionable hand on Tomder’s shoulder, making sure his fingers brushed the boil-ridden skin of his neck. “I’ve heard some compelling rumors,” he said. Chemicals seeped from his fingertips. Tomder’s infected skin gave them easy access to his bloodstream, and Lexo felt the stable keeper’s shoulder muscles soften almost immediately.

  “Oh?” Tomder said. “I do enjoy a good rumor.”

  “I’ve heard that something’s going down with DeFancio Storsilt’s fleet of fathiers.” Maybe the race fixing was related to Lula’s disappearance; maybe it wasn’t. Lexo wasn’t going to chance not knowing about it.

  “Oh,” Tomder said, his gaze darting around the paddock as if worried they might be overheard. “Of course I don’t know what you mean.”

  Lexo excreted another dose of pheromone, and a wave of dizziness hit him. Using his abilities so often in a single day was exacting a cost. He blinked to clear his vision and said, “Let’s say a fellow wanted to repay his daughter’s indenture debt to the local stable keeper—along with some extra for his trouble—but just needed a little help getting the money. How should a fellow like that bet tonight?”

  “Ooh,” Tomder said. “I think I could help a fellow out.”

  “I’m so glad to hear it.”

  “I’d tell a fellow like that to bet against any fathiers owned by Storsilt, which as most people know is almost all of them. That leaves only a few left to earn the laurels, right?”

  “Right.” Lexo smiled winningly. “Naturally, a fellow would want to know how this information had been received. To ascertain its validity. A fellow really wants to make good on his debts, you see.”

  Tomder glanced around again. Lexo gave him one last helping of pheromone. The ground swayed beneath him.

  “Look,” Tomder said after a moment. “I got a holo. It was no one I recognized. Tall, bipedal, cloaked, with an altered voice. Maybe even a droid. They asked me to switch the feed of certain fathiers.”

  “And you did.”

  “Of course I did. The offer was too good to pass up. I had to do it. For the children, right?”

  “Of course. And you were paid as agreed?”

  Tomder nodded. “Along with a new shipment of special feed came a special package. Mostly aurodium dust. A few rubies. A handful of casino chips. I’ll be able to buy new gloves for the kids, finally.”

  Lexo startled at this, peering closer. Tomder was fully in his control now. He’d answer any question Lexo asked. There was no need for him to be coy about helping children. Which meant that even though he was a lazy, slave-driving sadist, part of him actually cared a little.

  Lexo had one last question. “Do you have any idea why Lula didn’t show up to work today?”

  “Not a clue. She’s one of those peculiar kids who actually likes the fathiers. Don’t ask me why; they’re stupid, filthy, reeking creatures.”

  Lexo chose not to point out the obvious hypocrisy.

  “I admit,” Tomder added, “I was surprised when she didn’t show.”

  “You’ve been very helpful,” Lexo said, finally, finally removing his hand from Tomder’s shoulder. “I’ll return later to take care of Lula’s debt.”

  “Be sure that you do!”

  Lexo didn’t bother with parting niceties; he turned on his heel and strode away, wiping his hands on his robe. At his soonest opportunity, he would have to disinfect them.

  He didn’t feel any closer to rescuing his daughter, but he wasn’t out of options yet. He’d been on Cantonica a long time, and he had a friend or two. Besides, Ganna wasn’t his only rich and powerful client. If all else failed, maybe he would break his code and get involved—in exchange for a little help. Just this once.

  And Lula, his sweet, smart, strong Lula, had left him a trail of corwindyl to follow. She had undoubtedly planted it on Ganna when she was taken, knowing Lexo’s olfactory senses would pick it up right away. He just had to follow his nose.

  Big Sturg Ganna didn’t know it yet, but he had messed with the wrong masseur.

  LEXO SPENT MONEY HE COULDN’T afford to hire a cab again. This time he directed it to a high-rent part of Old City, an office he knew about but had never visited. A sign above the door said NEEPERS PANPICK, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR.

  He pushed the door open and found Panpick himself sitting at a desk, a datapad in hand. Above him a ceiling fan creaked as it went round and round. To his left a holo played a live feed of the casino entrance; the investigator probably had a deal worked out with the Canto Bight Police Department to access their surveillance.

  Panpick was a short biped with a round bald head and huge black eyes that made him seem perpetually surprised. He wasn’t wealthy like most of Canto Bight’s residents. But his job required him to rub noses with the elite, so he always dressed to impress in a black velvet suit, a long, quilted vest, and shoes in a perfect state of shine.

  When he saw Lexo, he smiled. “For once!” he said. “A face I’m actually glad to see.” Panpick’s voice came out high and thin, like that of a squeaking bird, but Lexo’s translator necklace made easy work of it.

  They shook hands. “Nice to see you too, Neepers,” Lexo said, and he meant it. The private investigator was one of the few beings whose company he genuinely enjoyed. They’d met at the spa, of course, and though Panpick couldn’t afford Zord’s luxuries often, he occasionally went to celebrate closing a big case. And he always requested Lexo.

  “Though I must observe,” Panpick said, his face suddenly troubled, “that my friends never visit my office unless something terrible has happened.”

  Real concern, coming from a real friend, was almost Lexo’s undoing, and he found it hard to keep his voice steady. “Lula is missing,” he said.

  “Oh, sands, I’m so sorry to hear. Sit down, sit down. Tell me all about it.” He gestured toward a chair facing his desk.

  The chair was a little small for a Dor Namethian, but Lexo sat anyway, hunching over so that his knees nearly reached his ears. “Thank you.”

  “Do you have any idea at all what might have happened?”

  Panpick deserved total honesty, so Lexo said, “I think Councilor Ganna took her as leverage, to force me to turn informant.”

  Panpick recoiled in his chair. “Oh, sands. That’s…that’s…”

  “I don’t expect you to get involved,” Lexo said. “In fact, I forbid it.”

  The private investigator seemed visibly relieved. Then guilty. Then suspicious. “So why are you here?”

  Lexo folded his hands carefully into his lap. He stared at them a moment, remembering how Lula had helped him. A tiny puncture at the base of one wrist still hadn’t quite closed up. “I just need a direction,” Lexo said. “Once I know where to start, I have a…a trail of sorts that I can follow. I just need that start. I guess it’s hard to expl—”

  “The casino hotel,” Panpick said.

  “What?”

  “Everyone knows Councilor Ganna has a big estate on the outskirts of town. But only a few people know that he also keeps a private apartment at the casino. One of the hotel suites, I’m told, retrofitted to accommodate his particular environmental requirements.”

  It was the most tenuous of leads, but it filled Lexo with hope. “And you think he might have taken Lula there? Do you know where in the hotel? Which room?”

  Panpick shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know any of that. Ganna has kept very quiet about the place.”

  Lexo deflated a little.

  “But if I were a betting man—and I most certainly am not—I’d lay odds that his suite is located belowground and has multiple access points.”

  “Why belowground…” he started to ask, but then the answer came to him. Because Ganna’s retrofitted suite would certainly be located where it was cooler and wetter. Since the advent of the artificial sea, the lower levels of Canto Bight had become damp and dank, with occasional moisture seepage. Nearest the coast, sump pumps worked full time to keep the water at bay. “He
needs the humidity.”

  “I suspect so,” Panpick said.

  “And having a secondary residence at the casino means he can retire quickly, if the desert is getting to him. It’s a safety measure.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So what would you do if you were me?” Lexo asked.

  Panpick gave Lexo a long, frank look. “My friend, you are not me. You never get involved, right?”

  Lexo opened his mouth. Closed it.

  “ ‘Hear nothing, see nothing, say nothing,’ am I right? Well, I’m afraid that’s not going to work for you right now. You have to go into this with eyes and ears wide open. There are things you can do. If you’re willing.”

  For Lula, Lexo just might be willing.

  “Any suggestions?” Lexo asked, feeling a little sick. He wasn’t sure whether it was from using too much pheromone today or from the decisions he felt himself about to make.

  “Start small. Case the casino posing as a guest. Keep an eye out for people you know are in Ganna’s employ. A few chips in the right hands might give you a good start. Servers, bartenders, drivers…they hear and see everything.”

  And unlike Lexo, they were likely to sell that information at the soonest opportunity. He would have to be very convincing and very discreet.

  Panpick added: “Ganna has spies everywhere. Watch yourself.”

  He was right about that. Lexo stood to go. “Thank you so much, Panpick. I’ll find a way to repay you for this, I swear it.”

  “But you were never here, right?”

  “Never. We hardly know each other.”

  Panpick grinned.

  A creak, creak sound drew Lexo’s attention upward. “Nice fan, by the way,” he said.

  “Sands, that thing is fantastic!” he agreed. “Now I don’t have to turn on the environmental controls at night. It’s saving me a fortune. Last week, some rich heiress lost her pet—an overgrown rat with three tails, all dyed different colors. I found the poor thing hiding out near the countess’s estate. My client was so overjoyed that she doubled my fee. Paid for that fan and a new suit. Speaking of…” Panpick fished inside his jacket pocket and pulled out three casino chips. “Take this.”

  Lexo put up his hands. “I couldn’t.”

  “Please, Lexo. Assuage my guilty conscience. You know I can’t openly cross Ganna, not for anyone. But this might help with expenses. Think of it as a loan. An advance against your future tips.”

  Lexo took the chips. He stared at them a moment. “Thank you, friend.”

  When he stepped outside the office, night had fully descended on Canto Bight. The street lanterns glowed, store windows were rimmed in light, and a few blocks away the blinding nimbus of the Canto Casino washed away any chance of seeing the stars.

  YOU CAN GET ANYTHING IN Canto Bight, or so the saying went. Still, it wasn’t until his third try that Lexo finally found a shop that carried traditional Dor Namethian robes. He didn’t think he could enter the casino in his ragged everyday wear; he’d be kicked out before he could utter a word. He briefly considered stealing the white working gown he wore at the spa, but too many people would notice and recognize him on sight. He decided to emulate his friend Panpick and buy clothes to fit the part, even if they were ridiculously overpriced, and even if the blue embroidery on the silken black sleeves was a clumsy appropriation of Dor Namethian culture and nothing at all as beautiful and intricate as the real thing.

  The robe was reversible, lined in bright-blue silk. Lexo considered it a moment, then opted to wear it black-side out. Wouldn’t do to be so bright.

  Next, Lexo found a postal center, which Canto Bight visitors used to ship purchases home and send long-distance communications. He bought a disposable comlink. The clerk assured him that all their comlinks were untraceable, but Lexo was mostly interested in the fact that they were cheap.

  Armored with the traditional garb of his homeworld, and armed with a new comlink, Lexo found a solitary bench beside a tinkling fountain and placed a call to Councilor Sturg Ganna.

  As expected, the communication was answered by one of Ganna’s personal assistants. “How can I help you,” said a bored, flat voice. It was not a question.

  “My name is Lexo Sooger, and I wish to speak—”

  “Yeah whatever the councilor is unavailable but he is jubilant to receive so many messages from his constituents please leave your name and the reason for your call His Greatness will read your message with humble trembling and incandescent joy begin recording in three, two—”

  “Wait! The councilor is expecting my call. Just give him my name.”

  “Oh why didn’t you say so one moment please hold to enjoy the award-winning musical composition ‘Serenity Starscapes’ from His Greatness’s home planet.”

  Lexo groaned audibly as all four chords of the song played over and over in an endless, mindless loop. It was almost a relief to hear Ganna’s deep, rumbling voice.

  “Lexo, my friend!” he bellowed. “I assume you’ve called to say you’ve made the very wise decision to work for me.”

  “Return my daughter to me,” Lexo said, “and I will do whatever you want, whenever you want, no questions asked.”

  Ganna laughed, and the deep, awful sound shuddered through Lexo’s shoulders. “You must think me a fool,” he said. “What’s to stop you from fleeing the planet if I let her go? No, it’s best you do a few jobs for me first. Prove your worth and your loyalty. Then we’ll discuss the possibility of you seeing your daughter again.”

  Lexo hadn’t expected anything different from Ganna, and it had been worth a try. Still, he gripped the comlink so hard his fingers hurt. “At least assure me she is safe,” he pleaded, in a shamefully small voice.

  “Of course she’s safe. I’m not a monster! Naturally, I can’t guarantee that she won’t accidentally injure herself. She’s so tiny and delicate, after all.”

  Lexo almost choked. If at all possible, he was going to destroy Ganna. Destroy him.

  “But so long as you work for me,” Ganna continued, “she’ll be well cared for. A meal per day. A suitable cot, labor that fills her life with meaning and purpose, a roof over her head. I realize many children do not have it so well, but I can’t help being softhearted.”

  “So you’ll keep her safe and healthy,” Lexo said.

  “As much as I am able,” Ganna assured him. “And so long as she earns her keep.”

  Poor Lula. To go from indenture to outright slavery. Well, it wouldn’t last long. He would figure out a way to free her and then extricate them both from Ganna’s manipulations. Either that or escape the planet Cantonica completely. There had to be a way.

  “Then I suppose there is nothing more but to await my first assignment,” Lexo said.

  “Indeed. Will I be able to reach you at this comlink?”

  “It’s disposable.”

  “Pity. I’ll set you up with a better one. You should be able to pay me back for it with just a few jobs.”

  “How generous.”

  “And Lexo?”

  “Yes, Councilor?”

  “Behave.”

  “Yes, Councilor.”

  But Ganna had already clicked away.

  Lexo wasted precious moments sitting on the bench, staring at the fountain. Lights from beneath made the water glow blue and then green and then blue again. He used it as a meditation, forcing calm into his shoulders, into his thoughts.

  The call had been a good idea. Now that Ganna believed he would cooperate, the gangster was less likely to harm Lula. Lexo had bought them some time.

  But not much time. Like Panpick said, Ganna had spies everywhere, and he hadn’t become one of the most entrenched and powerful beings in Canto Bight by being stupid. Whatever Lexo did, he had to do it tonight.

  He rose from the bench. Black robes swirled at his ankles, the silky fabric sheening with reflected light, as he strode toward the Canto Casino.

  —

  The casino complex was massive, housing a luxury
hotel, intergalactic shopping options, and several fine restaurants catering to a huge variety of species. Lexo was only interested in the gaming areas that abutted the hotel. There he hoped to discover exactly which part housed Big Sturg Ganna’s secondary residence.

  A river of beings poured into and out of the casino’s main entrance. Everyone was dressed immaculately in the richest fabrics, the rarest jewels, the highest-end accessories. Formal black and white dominated, but flashes of color could be seen on silken stoles and dripping necklaces and—in one instance—the flowers adorning the hair of a human woman.

  Lexo had to blend in, and the only way to do it was to act like a rich jerk. So he kept his eyes focused ahead and strode forward with confidence he didn’t feel, not deigning to notice the lowly casino guards or the scurrying janitor droids. He had been acting his whole life. Pretending to listen to his clients. Pretending he didn’t hear anything interesting or useful. Pretending he belonged among the elegant and the elite. He could do this.

  The gaming rooms were vast and sweeping, with curved walls and domed roofs, surrounded by stained-glass windows depicting fathier racing scenes. The windows were lit from outside, so that even at night the stained glass cast a warming glow onto the gaming tables. Everything was painted in desert colors—ocher and yellow and soft cream and tan dominating. The cumulative effect was one of luxurious calm. Of peaceful elegance. It was all designed to put patrons in the perfect mindset for spending money freely.

  Lexo moved through the crowd quickly. He spotted another Dor Namethian near the bar and indulged in a small moment of relief. He was less likely to be noticed tonight, less likely to seem unusual. But he turned away before the other fellow could spot him and wave him over. He wasn’t here to make friends.

  Slot machines clanged and croupiers called out to draw patrons to their tables. To Lexo’s left, a cheer went up—someone had hit a streak with Hazard Toss. To his right was a small stage where a trio of Palandags played wind instruments. Lexo would have liked to stay and listen to the Palandags, who, unlike the musicians of Ganna’s home planet, actually played real music.