Desperate Times/Part 17

Sorin Ruy'the's courier dropped Tirien off on the fourteenth moon of Bogden and made quite a show of staying only long enough for Tirien to touch down on the ground. Tirien knew Sorin well enough to watch for the inevitable tail, but over the hour it took to lose the man in Bogg 14's maze of back alleys and side streets, he began to suspect that the courier's flight was not all for show, because Tirien himself almost died four times.

First it had been a Twi'lek insistent upon selling him spice and violently angry that Tirien was not willing to buy; he escaped by sliding through a crowd of Gamorreans who, when the Twi'lek tried to jostle past, fell on him in a flurry of grunts and fists that almost covered the Twi'lek's screams. Then there had been a Wookiee arguing with a trio of Dugs who had bared his claws and clawed one Dug's head right off; the look he had given Tirien upon discovering that he was being observed promised murder, but fortunately the remaining two Dugs distracted him with stun shots. Crossing what amounted to a street a few minutes later, Tirien had almost been run down by a few thugs on speeders, who called curses back at him.

The fourth was a Human who simply attempted to mug Tirien with no preamble whatsoever. Tirien managed to disarm him of his pistol and, when the Human pulled out a vibroblade, shot him in the head with his own blaster.

The killing taught him the law of Bogg 14. When no one batted at eye at the Pantoran standing with a blaster over the corpse of a Human with a smoking crater in his forehead, Tirien left the alley and watched from across the street as, one after another, a handful of Bogdeni looted the Human's body of valuables until he was left with only underwear and a cybernetic implant grafted to one side of his skull. Then a bright blue Squib came by with a hydrospanner and a wrench and dug out the implant, too.

Tirien gathered that Bogg 14 had played host to multiple mining facilities in its heyday, millennia back, but the miners had long since taken everything the moon had to offer and then some. On the approach he had seen the deep rift valleys that cut close to the moon's core; some of Bogg 14's cities had grown up in those valleys, with facilities dug into the rock walls and passenger tubes bridging the canyons, but the majority were on the surface under durasteel domes, protected by artificial atmospheres of varying quality. Air purifiers which had once vented gas into space worked fitfully at best—Tirien suspected some of them had been dismantled for parts—and a layer of smog hung over the city, leaving little particulates to cling to clothing and giving the Bogdeni an excuse to wear rebreathers or bandannas to cover their mouths as they hurried from one building to another. Tirien felt exposed without one, and not merely because too deep a breath made him cough.

Sorin's warning lurked in the back of his mind and stretched his nerves tauter still. The Bothan information broker had considered it a fair trade for his own life, and Tirien suspected Sorin was not merely using Suwo's death to welch on the debt, but in a place like Bogg 14 there were just too many furtive and suspicious characters to keep track of them all. Tirien stuck the blaster he had taken from the attempted mugger in his pocket so he could keep his hand on it. He learned to walk with his head down and use his peripheral vision after eye contact almost started a gun battle. Even the droids he saw were either openly carrying weapons or constructed with a design that could only suit guard or assassin droids.

Worse still was an assassin droid accompanied by two female Humans, because it took Tirien so long to recognize their voices that it was almost too late.

"I can't believe you talked me into running spice to this pit!"

"I know, the market's saturated, but—"

"We almost died, Nal!"

"We've almost died six times this year, Kadelle! The lanes are getting clogged more with the Sith since that Anaxes thing."

Tirien turned on a heel, speeding into the nearest alley and walking away as quickly as possible. The last thing he wanted was to be discovered skulking around a crime-ridden rock only nominally controlled by Republic law, especially with what he remembered of the Chun sisters' specious morality. He had a suspicion that one or both of them had noticed his sharp movement and followed him with her eyes, but he at least had the good sense not to look back and to follow the alleys well out of his way. It took him a quarter of an hour to get back on track, but when he finally glanced over his shoulders, at least he was not being tracked.

As he followed rudimentary directions toward Rosstark's, Tirien came upon a Near-Human slumped against an alley wall, a bloody gash curving across his throat from ear to ear. Loathing himself, Tirien stripped off the dead man's coat and donned it, pulling the hood up over his head; shadowing his tattoos would make him harder to recognize. He heard a cry of pain from outside the alley and pressed against the wall beside the corpse, not wanting to wander into yet another fight he didn't need, but as he listened a shiver ran down his spine.

"Three arrowheads around her left eye, bizit. Have you seen her or not?"

"No—NO! I ain't seen your bitch nowhere!  No, WAIT—!"

The crack of a blaster shot silenced his protests, and Tirien heard footsteps moving in his direction. He slunk deeper into the alley, but there was no concealment, and even with Mali's lightsaber he had no chance to deflect blasterfire without the Force. Out of options, he leaned back against the wall and bent at the waist, shaking like a junkie and reciting the Jedi Code aloud in Quarren under his breath. In the corner of his eye he saw two dark figures pass the alley mouth, stop to evaluate him, then move on. Giving it a ten-count, Tirien straightened, grasped the pistol in his pocket, and crept to the street.

The figures were some distance away, already half-swallowed by smog; their dark outfits camouflaged most of their forms, but Tirien saw the snout on one and thought it might have been a Kubaz. He had no idea whether they might be Sith or some criminal element, but either way time was short. He waited until they had vanished entirely before setting off the other way.

The spies had left their victim in the middle of the street. Tirien gathered that there was an underclass feeding the massive criminal element, though from the hungry stares and tentative starts in his direction, he suspected many had simply not found the opportunity to join the criminal element themselves. Wondering exactly what was happening on Bogden itself to allow this, Tirien walked past Rosstark's and nearly wound up in a fight with a Rodian, extricating himself only by spilling the Rodian's death sticks, which caused him to lurch after them in a panic as they rolled toward an uncovered drain. Though he had hoped to stake out the place, perhaps to observe Alecto and catch her by surprise, the Rodian's proximity and the presence of the spies forced his hand. Tirien waited for a pack of Ranats carrying sharpened sticks to hop by, then stepped past a sign reading A BSOLUTELY NO W OOKIEES into the building before anything else could happen.

The air was purer, though the smell of alcoholic beverages of every variety was almost overpowering; a Diollan staggered through the room and bounced off Tirien's shoulder, his eyes out of focus as he took one deep breath after another. Tirien saw two tables crowded with sentients playing sabacc, and a third, wedged in a corner, where the gamblers were playing what Tirien was almost certain was pazaak. Beings of twenty different species sat at tables while others forced their way through the crush. Tirien pulled his jacket snug; he wasn't sure even he would feel a pickpocket here, and there was no point keeping his lightsaber in reach; even if he could wield it without harming himself, any swing in here would maim at least three people.

Tirien forced his way away from the door, looking from face to face quickly—if Alecto was truly here, he had a tiny window to take her down, and without the element of surprise he stood no chance against her. Just as he wondered whether he could push past a Weequay without starting a fight, one of the sabacc tables erupted.

"That's nine hands in a row you cheating son of a bitch!" a Chalactan barked.

The Umbaran across the table sneered. "Don't blame me for your incompetence."

"You can see my plays coming!" the Chalactan roared, on his feet now. "Kriffing telepaths! They should be banned?  Am I right?  AM I RIGHT?!"

There was a vague grumble of agreement from the crowd, but it was enough that the Umbaran's eyes narrowed uncertainly and he started to rise as well. The Chalactan ripped a vibroblade from beneath his jacket and swung; the Umbaran's telepathy was sensitive enough to save him from death as he arched his back, but the blade still gouged through his ribs in a shower of blood and bone.

Half the crowd cheered as those closest to the fight backed away, but a Trandoshan vaulted the bar and shoved his way through the crowd. Catching the Chalactan from behind by the neck, the Trandoshan reached over, clasped the front of the man's skull, and cranked it back. The crunch was audible over the tumult, and the clamors and cheers died at once. Hoisting the dead man by his neck in one hand, the Trandoshan snarled, "No killing in my bar!"

As the Umbaran's friends helped him out the door, one frantically trying to stanch the bleeding with a bundled shirt, the Trandoshan hauled the dead Chalactan across the room and pitched him over the bar. Tirien surveyed the scene under cover of the chaos, but he saw no sign of Alecto, or even of a Mirialan of any kind. He saw a number of beings skulking around the edges of the room alone, but it seemed risky to try one of them; if Alecto had managed to lay low here, it had clearly been with the staff's knowledge.

There was nothing for it; he stepped up to the bar.

Tirien sat amidst the patrons until the Trandoshan plodded up and growled. Taking that as an invitation, Tirien asked, "You're Rosstark?"

Leathery lips peeled back from fangs. Tirien nodded, took a hundred-credit chip from his belt, and slid it across the bar. Rosstark's orange eyes followed the movement, then shifted back to Tirien. "Merenzane Gold, is it?"

"Just a beer…and some information."

The Trandoshan slid the credit back across the bar. "Not my business. Get out."

He laid his clawed hands on the bar, and Tirien knew it was the time for drastic action. He reached for the credit chip with one hand even as the other drew open his layered coats to expose Mali's lightsaber. Rosstark's eyes flicked to it and lingered, and Tirien lowered his voice to ask in Huttese, "Where is she?"

Rosstark snarled, and those nearest began edging away. Tirien looked up at the Trandoshan, refusing to back down even as he saw the clawed digits curl. "You don't want violence in your bar, and I'm not here to fight her. But there are others on Bogg 14 coming for her, and when they get here, this place is going to be a slaughterhouse.  But if you tell me…"

He trailed off meaningfully, refusing to break eye contact as Rosstark glowered even though he knew the Trandoshan could kill him with a single blow. The seconds ticked by, Tirien growing more and more aware that no one but Sorin knew he was here, that if Rosstark killed him he would die unknown, his corpse going to whatever fate the Chalactan gambler's could expect…

Rosstark reached out a clawed hand, scraped the credit back across the bartop, and jerked his head to the right. "1-1-3-8, Room Four."

And, dropping a key card on the bar, he turned away to bark at a Gand on the other end of the bar. Tirien took the card, gave it a moment, then stepped away from the bar and looked in the direction Rosstark had indicated. Past the end of the bar, an unlit corridor led out of sight. Slipping past two bickering Bith, Tirien advanced slowly down the hall, past foul-smelling lavatories; the hall dead-ended, but a door opposite the lavatories was labeled S TAFF O NLY in Aurebesh and Huttese. There was a numeral keypad built into the door handle; Tirien typed 1-1-3-8 and turned the handle, opening the door onto a stairway up. Tirien stepped onto the stairs and pulled the door closed behind him with a soft click.

The stairs led into a single, straight hallway, paneled in dark fabric; the dense carpet absorbed the sound of his steps. Each charcoal-steel door bore a bronze plate with a numeral; as he closed on Room Four, Tirien opened his coats and drew the blaster pistol from his hip. Unable to sense or even hear anything, he would have to go in blind. Taking deep breaths to still his pounding heart, he switched the pistol to stun and held the key card in the other hand.

''One chance to get the Force back. One chance to save Narasi and Aldayr. Don't hesitate. He swiped the access card on the door panel, the door whumm''ed open, and he charged in.

Alecto nearly cut his throat; he lurched back just in time. His first shot went wide, the stun ring wrapping around a dresser and knocking it to the floor. Alecto lunged with the point of her vibroblade; Tirien skipped back and pulled his pistol down to his side to fire from the hip. Alecto had to hurl herself sideways to the floor. Tirien aimed for a third shot, but she threw her blade and he twisted to dodge it. As it embedded itself in the wall behind him, Alecto pitched up off her hands and into a wheel kick; her heel slapped the blaster out of Tirien's hand.

Alecto touched down, but Tirien took the fight to her with a side kick that knocked her off her feet and onto her back. Tirien could see her gritting her teeth in pain, but she threw herself at a side table from the ground and hurled the table at him. By the time Tirien had blocked the table across the room with his forearms, Alecto had regained her feet. She came at him in a rush of hand techniques so swift and vicious that Tirien fell back on defense, hands up to protect his head, jabbing only to break up her flow.

Then Alecto shin-kicked him in the thigh, and Tirien dropped his hands with a gasp of pain. Alecto hit him with a cross punch that spun him around; by the time he had finished the circle Alecto had another knife in her hand.

She slashed at Tirien's throat, and he retreated until he hit the wall. Out of options, Tirien reached to the back of his belt for his hold-out blaster. Alecto slashed again and, as he drew, Tirien caught her wrist. Her momentum carried her up against him, and before Tirien's conscious mind could follow everything that had happened, he and Alecto were nose-to-nose; he held her by the hand with her blade pressed against his throat, and she had caught the wrist of his hand that had dug the muzzle of his blaster into the bottom of her chin.

More than once Narasi had admired Tirien's ability to analyze and understand a situation in seconds, but for every time Tirien realized exactly what was going on, there were just as many instances when his mind raced ahead of itself, delivering him the conclusion and letting the supporting facts trail behind. And so, as he glared into Alecto's narrowed violet eyes and felt the warmth of her body against his, suspended in the heartbeat between life and death, he understood what was important without knowing why and spoke before his conscious mind had put the pieces together.

"You're using a knife."

He got it, then, and he felt his eyes widen in shock. Alecto's glare lasted only a second longer before she got it too. "You're using a blaster."

"…maybe we should talk."