33[]
The tangy smell of the sea wafted across the stage, a welcome relief after two days in a cramped freighter. The late morning sun shone brightly in a cloudless cerulean sky, while the breeze tugged at a series of banners behind him, averting the threat of stagnant humidity. It was warm, but not unbearably so. Maddison had elected to hold their press conference at an event stage on the beach not far from the spaceport. After the unpredictable inclement weather of Yanibar, Rishi was thus far a tranquil reprieve.
Jhiranae watched quietly with the rest of the archaeologists, Gennedy’s crew, a shaky-looking Roxane, and an unhappy-looking Corian as Maddison stood in front of them at a podium, offering up the usual diplomatic pleasantries and thanks to the host world for their graciousness. The woman definitely had a family resemblance to Gennedy—which the captain was hiding by wearing a large hat and styling her hair differently—but seemed less flippant. Like any good politician, Maddison radiated an air of sincerity about her that made people want to believe in her words and her cause. Still, Jhiranae was tired enough and was too self-conscious from her bedraggled appearance to really focus on her speech. She suppressed a yawn and forced herself to pay attention.
“Wherever we go, the Reunification League pledges to build a united galaxy, a strong coalition of worlds marked by friendship and solidarity. Our concerns range from the galactic threat of the Grasp to navigational hazards and trade disputes. Yet we cannot forge the bonds of unity without the contributions of worlds like Rishi. After recovering the stranded crew of a freighter lost in deep space, your world welcomed us with open arms. We humbly accept your hospitality and hope it marks the beginning of a deeper relationship between the Reunification League and Rishi.”
She paused for a loose smattering of applause and approving gestures from the hundred-odd onlookers, dignitaries, and reporters.
“Some might ask why the Reunification League would respond with such a large force for a single distress call. First, I would say that being stranded in space is a fate I would wish on no one, and rescuing a ship in distress speaks to our core values of unity and selflessness. It also happens that the ship was carrying one of our scientific partners, Dr. Nihyal Ostrada of the Skywalker Institute. Dr. Ostrada has been leading an expedition to distant worlds to recover artifacts and ruins leading to greater knowledge of the Jedi Order. The Jedi were once a beacon of hope to the galaxy, a force of unification through their ideals, examples, and heroism. Though their flame shines no longer, it is our hope to pick up the torch they left and carry it forward as a galaxy united.”
There was a series of murmurs through the crowd as Maddison made her announcement. That wasn’t particularly surprising, as Jhiranae knew the Jedi were often a controversial subject. The surprising part of the speech was learning that Dr. Ostrada had previous ties to the Reunification League. Jhiranae had never thought of herself as political. She had attended a few perfunctory events for the Skywalker Institute, but all of that was over her head. The various donors and sponsors and functionaries seemed to exist in a layer far beyond her element—which was in the field, excavating ancient ruins and exploring mysteries. Nihyal might be able to straddle both worlds, but Jhiranae had no interest in the fine arts of fundraising and fraternizing with well-heeled donors even if she acknowledged them as necessary. However, the revelation also helped explain why Maddison D’Tocque had brought such a sizable force. She wasn’t just helping her sister—as important as that might have been—she was looking out for some kind of investment in their expedition.
“And now,” Maddison continued. “I appreciate all of your patience, but I also know you must have many questions for our recently-rescued crew and expedition partners. They’ve had a long journey and have asked to keep it brief, but will answer a few questions.”
A gangly Devaronian in the back waved a clawed hand and Maddison acknowledged him.
“Terco Grinj, Rimworlds Reporting. A question for Dr. Ostrada. What kind of Jedi ruins were you digging up?”
Nihyal stood to address him.
“We were on a remote world called Yanibar exploring ruins from an offshoot of the Jedi Order. The Grasp attacked us, so many of our findings and artifacts were lost when we fled. We’re still assembling our conclusions.”
A shorter Pantoran up front signaled a question as well.
“What led the Grasp to attack you? They are not known for preying on archaeological sites.”
“We don’t know,” Dr. Ostrada replied. “But they were relentless. We are grateful for the protection of the Reunification League and our Rishian hosts.”
Jhiranae tuned out the rest of the questions. Most were for Doctor Ostrada and fairly innocuous. One went to Corian and his demeanor sufficed to forestall any further questions in his direction. Nothing was particularly new or surprising, and thankfully none of them required her to speak. Once Maddison had allowed a few more inquiries, she gave a final thanks and dismissed the group. Several people from Maddison’s entourage, led by a striking Zabrak woman named Telkyth, ushered them towards a group of speeders parked nearby, screened from curious eyes by a large cantina. As they walked, flanked by the Reunification League guards, Jhiranae took in the sights and sounds. She could hear the cries of seabirds and smell freshly-cooked hot food—the latter made her stomach rumble. While there had been a gaggle of people at the press conference, most of them had been merely curious or obliged to be there and had dispersed once the questions were completed. The entourage was not followed for more than a minute or two and only by a few reporters snapping one or two final holos. A languid feeling pervaded the town. Raider’s Cove certainly didn’t live up to its name—and for that was she was grateful. She had a feeling she was going to enjoy her reprieve on Rishi.
A flicker of motion caught her eye. A slender Rishii, an avian species who mostly lived in the highlands of their world, darted out from the alley, heading straight for them. Corian’s hand immediately went for the blaster he kept tucked under his uniform jacket while Jhiranae also reached for her lightsaber. Their pursuit on Yanibar and subsequent escape from Naos III had made them much warier. The Rishii saw their weapons—as well as those from the R-Leaguer’s—and stopped short.
“Beg pardon, gentles,” the avian creaked. “I am called Squarrk, and I have a few questions for the expedition.”
The Rishii looked harmless enough. In fact, his clothes were shabby, his feathers unkempt and ruffled. A fairly scrawny creature, he blinked two large eyes at them hopefully.
“Beat it,” Corian growled. “Q and A is over.”
“Q and A is over,” the Rishii replied in perfect mimicry of the soldier, then his timbre shifted back to his own screechy lilt. “But, ahem, I have questions yet for the archaeologists. I am, ahem, a historian myself and I might have information useful to you.”
“A historian?” Jhiranae asked. “What kind of questions?”
“I’m sure you do,” Corian said, ignoring her and shielding Doctor Ostrada and Jhiranae from the new arrival protectively. “Buy the lady a drink first, call her on the comlink, and then maybe she’ll talk to you. Usually works for me.”
“But how will I find you?” the Rishii asked as they approached their speeders.
“You won’t,” Corian countered.
“I’m sorry,” Jhiranae told the Rishii. “I don’t even know where we’re going.”
“And we’re not telling, either,” Corian added, opening the door to the speeder and ushering the archaeologists inside as the freighter crew and Roxane entered another one. “Nice to meet you.”
The Rishii did not give up so easily.
“I am called Squarrk,” he repeated. “My office is at 301 Wizatoshi Lane in Caratonni.”
“Good to know,” Corian answered acerbically.
He ducked into the speeder behind the others and closed the door.
“Corian, don’t you think that was rather rude?” Jhiranae asked. “He may have useful information.”
“Sure, and I’m a gundark’s uncle,” Corian retorted.
“I could see it,” put in Plaspek.
The soldier ignored the impudent Twi’lek’s barb.
“Look, if you’re that interested, you can have one of the R-Leaguers look him up and set up a meet at a neutral site. After they check his background, known associates, and any possible hostile motives or allegiances.”
Jhiranae sighed.
“Your precautions make sense, but you didn’t have to be that rude.”
“I don’t have to be. It’s kind of a side gig for me, though, and it’s been working out pretty well thus far,” Corian shot back. “This whole thing is far too exposed. The sooner we’re out of public view the better. Then maybe we can set up a quiet meet with Mr. Squawk or whatever his name was.”
“Squarrk.”
“Right, him too. Bring it up in a couple days once we’re settled.”
“We might be missing a big opportunity. He may have information about the Jedi!” Corian sighed patronizingly.
“That’s a chance I’m a willing to take,” he said.
Jhiranae shook her head disapprovingly, but said nothing. It was a quiet ride to the resort on the outskirts of town, and she had much to think about. She didn’t know where they were going from here, or how they would contact the Skywalker Institute. She wasn’t sure if Squarrk actually did have information for them, but there was a chance, and Corian’s casual denial of that opportunity vexed her. On top of all that, there was still Roxane to look after—the woman had finally awoken in time for the landing, but seemed confused and lost. All things considered, Jhiranae could hardly blame her for that. Perhaps her stay on Rishi wouldn’t be quite as peaceful as she had initially hoped it would be. Whatever the case, she resolved that she wouldn’t try to tackle any of those challenges until she’d had a hot meal, and a sanisteam, and some uninterrupted sleep in a real bed—not a freighter bunk or a camp cot—but a real mattress. Maybe things would sort themselves out in the morning.