Convergence/Chapter 18

18
             Corian had arisen far earlier than the others, heading for the hills by himself to look for caches. It had been three days since they’d first investigated the “Sha Kalan,” and it had been another ruined, dusty, empty temple. Satisfied that no imminent danger lurked within, he no longer felt that the archaeologists needed his constant oversight on their fourth day back there. He’d left a brief explanation for Doctor Ostrada and Jhiranae, but didn’t give either of them the opportunity to argue. Out of consideration for their desire to further explore that temple, he didn’t take the speeder. He had considered that gesture exceedingly generous.

             Following the datapad in search of caches had taken most of the day. Part of him felt guilty for leaving the archaeologists undefended for that long, but he at least thought Jhiranae was moderately capable. Moreover, there had been minimal danger once they had entered the basin, so he was fairly unconcerned. Lastly, and he knew it was selfish, he was sick of the others and their ridiculous obsession with digging up old things of no use. Ironic that he was on a quest for supplies that involved digging up old things to get away from them.

             Said quest took him through three empty sites—clearly, something had once been stored at the cave, or underground hatch, in each case, but all of them were empty. He had gamely continued on to one more site and been rewarded for his perseverance. By the time he’d secured his prize and headed back to meet the others, the fierce Yanibar sun was sinking swiftly towards the horizon. It was nearly dark by the time he reached their base camp and a fierce wind was blowing, chilling his sweat-soaked skin.

             Thankfully, the others were back and had started a small fire in a windbreak at the camp. Even on the sheltered side of the building, the yellow tongues of fire flickered and danced as the wind gusted and whistled around them. Corian made his way over to where the others were huddled around it, eating a meager meal.

             “You’re back!” Plaspek exclaimed, sitting up at the sight of him. “Glad you’re okay.”

             “We were going to look for you after dinner,” Jhiranae explained.

             “No need,” Corian told her. “Everyone here okay?”

             “We’re fine,” Jhiranae nodded. “We were able to access a few new chambers within the Sha Kalan and retrieve a few text fragments, but it seems to have been otherwise thoroughly evacuated. The damage to the site was also extensive.”

             “Fascinating,” Corian answered glibly. “I also found some things.” He held up his prize.

             “This is a short-range transmitter,” he said. “No hypercomm, and the power cell is pretty dead, but it should reach a few hundred kilometers at least. I think I can patch it into the speeder.”

             Unshouldering his other prize, he sat that down on a rock.

             “Looks like a weapon?” Plaspek guessed.

             “Good guess,” Corian said. “It’s a slugthrower, looks to be magnetically-powered. Power cell is of course dead.”

             “So. . . can you get them working?” Jhiranae asked.

             “I’m going to try,” he said. “I’m probably the only one who could shoot it accurately, but it’ll have better reach than my weapon, and might be less obvious too.”

             “Here,” Jhiranae offered, handing him a steaming bowl. “You look cold. Why don’t you have this first?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “I can help with the power supply afterward if you want,” Plaspek suggested. “I know a little bit about that kind of thing from keeping the scanners running.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “All right,” Corian answered gruffly in spite of himself.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             After a long day of hiking and digging alone, the others weren’t quite so unbearable. He ate his soup quietly, tuning out their discussion of the Sha Kalan. Once he was done, he rose and picked up the transmitter.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Going to take a crack at this,” he announced, then strode off.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             Plaspek followed him over to the speeder. They both climbed in, and Corian found the power interface port—which was just as he suspected.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Of course,” he said. “Three-hundred year old transmitter has a three-hundred-year-old power port.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Not that surprising,” Plaspek offered, looking at it. “This style of connector went out of use around a hundred years ago.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “I think everyone has their own style now,” Corian remarked. “This speeder is a Ubrikkian standard.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Right,” Plaspek told him. “This one seems a little more. . . Nubian in style. It’s close at least. Could probably make something work with a few extra conductive filaments.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Too bad we’re in a Ubrikkian then,” Corian returned. “Let me just go see if the dealer has a spare Nubian we can trade this in for.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             Plaspek giggled.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “I don’t think Nubian even makes speeders anymore,” she said. “They mostly make handheld electronics now. . .”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             She trailed off.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “What is it?” Corian asked.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             Plaspek didn’t answer, but turned and rummaged in her pack. Out of all the archaeologists, she had either been thoughtful or reckless enough to grab her pack from the camp before they had fled.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “What is it?” Corian asked again impatiently.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Just a minute,” Plaspek said, fishing around in the pack.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             She came up with a small datapad and a charging cable.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “I’m surprised I thought of it,” she told him. “My gamepad is a Nubian. You want to see if you can connect it to the transmitter?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             Corian took it from her.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Galaxy’s full of surprises,” he muttered.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             A few minutes later, he managed to connect the power port on the transmitter to Plaspek’s gamepad. It wasn’t easy, and the connection was prone to slipping if either piece was nudged, but it ''worked. ''Moreover, the transmitter showed signs of life as its power cell charged.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “It’s working!” Plaspek said excitedly.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “So it is,” Corian answered, arms crossed as he watched the transmitter initialize. “You know, if you’d told me this morning that your gamepad was going to be the key to getting a message offworld, I’d have been very skeptical.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             Plaspek rolled her eyes.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Aren’t you always?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             Corian didn’t answer that one, choosing to instead kneel down by the transmitter. If he understood it correctly, it could also serve as a receiver, and there would be some value in listening to any other traffic out there—especially if that relief force was on the way. The speeder had the capability for limited solar recharge, so if they could keep the speeder running, they could keep the transmitter powered. Fiddling with the switch, he started tuning the receiver until the static cleared. A deep, mechanical voice suddenly issued from the speaker.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “''Attention, Lieutenant Gonnard. Your comrades are dead or captured. Your position is tenuous. Surrender the archaeologists, and you will not be harmed. Continue to evade, and your comrades will be killed one by one. We have eleven Five Worlds Defense Force prisoners and are willing to give you all safe passage back to Corellia. Meet us at coordinates 47-35-30, 88-38-28 within three days. Attention, Lieutenant Gonnard. Your comrades are dead or captured. Your position is….”''

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">               Corian angrily snapped the transmitter off. Plaspek looked ashen beside him.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Whoa,” she said. “That was. . . intense.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             The soldier gave no reply, stalking off into the night. He took the slugthrower and his blaster with him.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             Despite the impression he might have given Plaspek, Corian was not about to go storm the Grasp position single-handedly, though he wanted to. He sat down near an outcropping; needed time to think and assess the situation before making a decision and acting. Even assuming moderate casualties inflicted by the Five Worlds Defense Force, he knew he was outnumbered approximately 30-to-1. Not good odds, even for him. Moreover, they were expecting him—and that was assuming that the transmission wasn’t all just a trap. The Grasp was smart enough to deceive.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             However, he was also not about to just acquiesce to their demands. Even if Plaspek hadn’t heard the threat—and she was certainly telling the others—the thought only crossed Corian’s mind for an instant before he dismissed it outright. He had been sent here with the mission to protect these people, not turn them over to that bunch of robotic butchers. He didn’t know how in the Nine Corellian Hells these dirt-grubbers had managed to capture the attention of the Grasp, but if they wanted them, he was highly predisposed against furthering that goal.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             His assets: himself, a blaster rifle with most of a power pack’s charge, and a slugthrower that he was pretty sure was some kind of sniper rifle. Sidearm. A couple grenades and a vibroblade he’d pulled from the cache. Three days’ time. A civilian speeder, assuming he chose to take it. The opposition: at least three dozen Grasp battle droids of various types. Even that was an optimistic projection—there could be hundreds. Eleven hostages that could be used as leverage against him, assuming they existed. That wasn’t good. Their presence negated the option of whittling the droids down from range little by little—they could simply threaten the hostages. And there was the matter of that woman that had been commanding them, assuming she was still alive. She had some kind of capability or training he hadn’t seen before, as well as a seriously armored. . . glove of some kind. He remembered how she’d sidestepped blasterfire with a dancer’s grace—maybe a teräs käsi practitioner? He winced at the thought, rubbing his ribs where she’d kicked him. He still felt those bruises.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             He heard a rock clatter behind him and whirled with sidearm in hand. It was Jhiranae. He lowered the weapon and scowled.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” he said.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “I’ve been here for a few minutes,” she told him. “Just waiting until a good time. Is. . . now a good time?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             Corian grunted.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “I know what you’re thinking,” Jhiranae added. “There’s no way you can defeat them alone.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “I very much doubt you know what I am thinking.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Your orders were to protect us, and even if you could save all eleven of your comrades by turning us in, I don’t think you’re the kind of person to give that up lightly. Yet you can’t just leave them behind either. There are too many people who need your help, and you cannot save them all. Does that get most of it?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Not bad,” Corian admitted. “Don’t forget the possibility that those eleven hostages don’t exist and it’s all a trap to lure Corian Gonnard, the galaxy’s biggest sucker, into the waiting arms of the Grasp.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “What are you going to do?” Jhiranae asked.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Can’t just stay here,” Corian told her. “I at least need to see what we’re up against and decide from there.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “We can come with you. We can help.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             Corian snorted gently.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Look, uh, I appreciate the offer, and you’re not bad in a scrape yourself, but the rest of your. . . group. . .”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “We know we’re not soldiers,” Jhiranae told him. “But you wouldn’t be following your orders if you left us unguarded for so long.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “What makes the most sense,” Corian countered. “Is for you to take the speeder and head the opposite direction from me. If they get me, at least you might survive.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Not a chance. We’re coming with you, at least to survey the area. We all agreed. Besides, without the speeder, you’ll never make it in time. We promise to stay out of the way.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “And follow orders.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             She nodded.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “We need you, Lieutenant,” she said. “Somebody has to watch your back.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Might as well be you,” Corian finished. “All right, get some sleep. We’ll leave in the morning.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “On that note, maybe I can ask Master Kraen for some advice. He would at least know the geography. There could be a shorter way back.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “I won’t say no to that.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Thank you,” Jhiranae told him.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “For what?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “For listening.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             Corian waved her off.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             “Good night,” he said brusquely.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt">             He stared off into space for a few more minutes, then rose slowly, dusted himself off, and made his way back to the camp.

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