by Kevin Hearne
“Very well. Provide me the details. I will sell the information immediately and order you an engine of your choosing, together with the concussion missiles and the fuel you need.”
Nakari pushed back a little. “We will keep the coordinates in reserve until you have a buyer.”
Nessin had no problem with that. “Of course.”
“Begging your pardons,” Drusil said, “but assuming a buyer is found quickly, how long will it be until the engine can be installed? I wish to know the earliest possible time we may resume our journey.”
“It will be a few days, even if I order one this instant,” Nessin replied. “But it could conceivably be weeks. It all depends on how fast I can find a buyer.”
The Givin’s shoulders visibly slumped. “I see. Thank you for your candor.”
“I assure you I’ll move as quickly as I can. In the meantime,” the Kupohan said, “I will find you some discreet lodging. And I think it might be a good time to begin spying on my employees.”
“I thought you said there’s no money in it,” I said.
“There isn’t. I want to make sure there’s no Empire in it, either, until you’re gone.”
“I might be able to render assistance in that regard,” Drusil said, pulling her custom hardware out of her carry-sack. “If you provide me the names of your crew, I will effectively block their access to the Empire until we leave.”
“How? You’re just going to cut them off from the ’Net?”
“No, nothing so crude. I will reroute all their messages to a temporary account where we may screen it first before allowing it to pass on.”
“What about holocalls?”
“A mysterious outage in service will plague them for a brief time.”
Nessin flicked his gaze to Nakari. “Can she really do that?”
Nakari shrugged. “Think of the goodly sum the Empire is offering to recapture her and you tell me.”
“Very well,” he said, “I suppose I can trust you in this, since your self-interest and mine coincide.” Once he gave Drusil the names and received assurance that he would get regular reports from her, he clapped his hands together and sank into a plush office chair behind his hardwood desk. “Now,” he almost purred, gesturing to some other, less comfortable chairs across from him that we had ignored until now. “Please be seated and tell me more about this fascinating moon.”
AFTER HIS BRIEFING, Azzur Nessin felt sure he could monetize Nakari’s information about Fex—brainsucking skullborers and all—and allowed us to pick the fastest engine available on the planet that would fit the Jewel.
“The engine won’t get here for a couple of days at least and you must be exhausted,” he said. “Let’s get you a place to lie low while this gets sorted out. I will be in touch.”
We ducked back into the ship to get hooded cloaks before departing to a hotel near the spaceport. I worried that Artoo was probably recognizable, but he could plausibly be any astromech droid of his series and not necessarily the one involved in the operation on Denon.
Utterly exhausted after a day that began in another part of the galaxy, I fell asleep almost as soon as I crashed onto the bed. After a night’s well-earned sleep, we ordered room service and ate together in my room. We thought it wiser than showing our faces in the hotel’s buffet—or anywhere.
Drusil hadn’t slept much; she’d spent most of the night slicing into the accounts of Azzur Nessin’s employees.
“The Wookiee was completely clean,” she reported, “as one might expect. They are not a species prone to sympathizing with a regime that commonly enslaves them. Another of the mechanics, a Duros, supplements his income by selling powdered pahzik horn offplanet as an aphrodisiac, but otherwise has no interest regarding us. The other two may present problems.”
“Which two are they?” Nakari asked.
“Ruuf Waluuk and Migg Birkhit—both Kupohans.” Glancing across the hangar at the light freighter next to the Desert Jewel, I noted that neither of the Kupohans was there; only the Wookiee and the Duros had shown up for work today. Drusil continued, “I was able to stifle the initial efforts of the former, but unfortunately the latter got off some communication to the Empire before I could interfere.”
“What kind of communication?”
“A general insistence that we are somewhere on Kupoh and he might be able to narrow down the search and point them in the right direction for a fee. He didn’t give our precise whereabouts, but the Empire is capable of tracing his transmission to this city and presumably to his place of work. I erased the file, but they could have read it and acted before I did so.”
“Acted how?”
“They may be en route even now, looking for Migg Birkhit and additional details. Or they may have contacted confederates already on the planet. They may have reached him already.”
Nakari cursed. “We can’t stay, then.”
“We have no place else to go,” I pointed out. “And leaving now before we get repairs will only cause the rest of the crew to get suspicious. It would be better and simpler if Migg Birkhit wasn’t around to be questioned when the Empire comes looking for him.”
“So you’re saying we should make him disappear?”
“Temporarily,” I said. “Not permanently. Maybe a couple of days tied up in a hotel room. He can be Azzur Nessin’s problem after that.”
“And if the Empire’s already found him?”
“We may have to resort to permanent disappearing if that’s the case—but only because he’ll probably be shooting at us along with Imperial troops.”
The Givin shook her head. “I doubt a single unconfirmed message would mobilize troops. More likely it will mobilize an investigator or a lazy electronic request for more information. I will intercept any messages sent to Migg and Ruuf, of course, but I cannot control his personal interactions.”
“That gives us a project for the day, I guess,” Nakari said. “Can’t do anything without the replacement engine and we’d have to hide out in our rooms instead. Actually, Drusil, that’s probably what you should do in any case. Any Givin seen on the street right now might draw more curiosity than we want.”
“I have no objections,” she replied. “I need to monitor communications in any case. But what will you do?”
“We’ll go looking for Migg Birkhit,” I said.
Nakari frowned. “Look where?”
“His house first,” I said. “I bet Drusil already has his address.” She nodded. “Failing that, we’ll check the local cantinas.”
“You mean the places where anyone would sell us out for a drink?”
“We can go in disguise underneath our hoods. Should be fine.”
“The investigator could be almost anyone,” Drusil cautioned. “The ISB won’t advertise themselves by wearing a uniform.”
“We’ll be careful.”
“Will you also try to discover if the Alliance successfully extracted my family?”
“Yeah, we’ll look into it. We have a dead drop on the planet. Not sure if we’ll get an answer before we leave, but it’s worth a try.”
Drusil gave us Migg Birkhit’s address and we walked her to her room. We left her with strict instructions not to open her door for anyone unless they used a passphrase.
“Oh! Can I give you one?” Drusil asked as we stood in the hallway and she stood at the threshold. Her mouth stayed open a little bit, and that might have signaled a smile. Since she seemed excited about it, I said sure, but before she could speak, I motioned us into her room and then shut the door in an attempt to keep us from being overheard. There hadn’t been anyone in the hallway, but you couldn’t be too careful on Kupoh. I suggested she keep her voice down before giving it to us.
“Excellent,” Drusil said in a whisper. “Knock however you wish and then say, (p + l)(a + n) = pa + pn + la + ln.” She left her mouth open a bit wider this time, expectant, but I didn’t know why.
“Okay, that’s a little long for a passphrase, but we’ll do that.�
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Her mouth closed. “Wait. Don’t you get it?”
“Get what?”
“I foiled your plan!” At our blank looks, the Givin’s head drooped and stared at the floor. “Oldest joke in the galaxy and it’s completely wasted on humans. I miss my husband.” She pressed a button on the wall and the door slid open behind us in a clear invitation to exit.
Once we were out in the hall, Nakari snorted. “I get it now. It’s a basic algebra thing. You have to picture it written down in High Galactic instead of listening to it. She must think we’re unforgivably slow.”
“I guess we are in that area. But you and I have other redeeming qualities.”
“Oh, you mean our cooking skills?”
I snorted. “No, definitely not that.”
Plugging Artoo into a public terminal and using him to encrypt our message, we requested an operational update on Drusil’s family and left it in an Alliance onetime account, setting up another one for a reply. If the Alliance was on alert here, we’d hear back. We then did what we could to disguise our appearance and hailed a droid taxi to take us to Migg Birkhit’s address.
It was a short ride through the streets of Tonekh to a slum, where Birkhit’s home turned out to be a boxlike economy space crammed into a large cube of similar spaces. The block of apartments had probably gleamed at one time, but that was long past and it now possessed a lived-in look, except the people here obviously lived with sickness, addiction, and despair. No children playing outside, just hooded figures like us, loitering, watching, hiding intentions as well as identities. It was little wonder that Birkhit would jump at the chance to buy himself a better life.
“I guess a ship mechanic doesn’t make much here,” Nakari said.
“Maybe not, but it shouldn’t be this bad,” I said. “He might have gambling debts or a checkered past.”
We felt eyes on us as we moved to Birkhit’s door and pressed the visitor chime. The console politely informed us that the room was currently unoccupied.
“That was a waste of time,” Nakari said.
“Well, we know he’s not missing work due to illness. Had to eliminate that as a possibility.” Turning around, I met several dark hooded stares that mirrored my own. “And he’ll be told someone is looking for him if he comes back.” I knew that the Kupohans could hear me say that just fine, even though I didn’t raise my voice.
We visited two stale and smoky cantinas next where no one had ever heard of Migg Birkhit, but if we needed some information on Azzur Nessin we could have had it for a price. At the third cantina, the bartender had heard of Migg and was willing to tell us where he spent most of his time for “a small consideration.” We accepted, paid him, and he directed us to a fourth cantina that was only a kilometer away. We decided to walk, since the wind was mild and the sun was out, and the outdoor market in the district promised a journey surrounded by colorful stalls and loud sales calls.
“You know, if we weren’t on a mission, I’d really enjoy this,” Nakari half shouted in the wind. “I might be getting used to the smell, whatever it is. You think it’s the pahzik?”
“That’s a good guess.”
“It’s kind of nice in a way—I mean the strangeness of an alien world when you’re not worried about anything but experiencing it.”
I agreed. Traveling through the galaxy would be perfectly pleasant were it not for the Empire trying to kill us.
We’d never gotten a really good look at Migg Birkhit back at the hangar, so as we approached his alleged favorite spot I wondered how we’d recognize him.
Turned out he made it easy for us; he walked out of the cantina wearing his gray-and-green Nessin Courier uniform when we were still twenty paces away. Unfortunately, he recognized us, too—even though we were somewhat disguised, we stuck out a little in Tonekh as two humans. Hoods and robes were great for concealing details, but they couldn’t hide the fact that we weren’t built like Kupohans and didn’t move like them. And it was tough to confuse us with other humans when there were so few others around in the local area; most offworlders stuck to the vicinity of the spaceport, and we were deep in the native part of town. With a snarled curse, Migg bolted around the corner and we gave chase, Artoo blatting a stream of noises that probably asked us to wait for him.
I discovered in the space of five steps that Nakari was a much faster runner; she was taller and had a longer stride than me, but she was also in outstanding shape. She was faster than Migg, too; before he could escape the alleyway and lose us in another crowded market street, Nakari pulled out her blaster and stunned him.
She turned to me, licked her finger, and made an imaginary tally mark in the air. “Chalk up one Imperial snitch for me. He won’t be talking to anyone now.”
“Good job. Shall we take him out to the street, pretend he’s a drunk friend coming out of the cantina, and get a droid taxi back to the hotel?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
We hoisted Birkhit up between us, Nakari on his left and me on the right, an arm draped over each of our shoulders, letting his feet drag behind.
A chirp sounded from up ahead. When I looked up the alley to locate Artoo, I saw that he was coming, but another figure strode with purpose in front of him. It was a Gotal with sienna skin and yellow eyes, thick brows supporting the sensitive horns that allowed his species to detect electromagnetic fields of all kinds. It made them excellent hunters, empathic to some extent with many species, and dangerous in confrontations, since they often sensed what you were planning to do before you did it. Han had warned me that many of them sympathized with the Empire.
“Excuse me,” the Gotal said. “That’s my friend you have there. I was just about to meet him when he ran down this alley.”
“He’s our friend, too,” Nakari said, smooth and smiling. “Poor Migg had a few too many drinks and ran back here to be sick. We’re taking him home.”
“He’s not unconscious from drinking,” the Gotal said, gesturing at his horns with a thumb. “I can tell. He’s been stunned. And you stunned him.”
Nonplussed, Nakari said, “Whatever, friend. He still needs to be taken home. You want to come along?”
“No, I want you to let him go and tell me where the Givin woman is.”
“What are you talking about?” Nakari asked, exasperation in every word. But she lifted Migg’s arm and ducked her head to obey at least the first part of it, while with her right hand, hidden behind Migg, she pulled out her blaster.
She never got a shot off, though. Moving far faster than I expected, the Gotal’s left leg whipped out in a straight kick aimed at the side of Nakari’s midsection, and it knocked the blaster out of her hand just as she was squeezing it between her body and Migg’s to target the Gotal. As she staggered backward, Migg’s entire weight dragged on my left side, and without replanting his foot, our attacker cocked his leg back at the knee, pivoted slightly, and kicked at my face. He connected and I supposed I should be grateful he hadn’t stepped into the kick: My nose remained unbroken and I kept my teeth, but the impact dropped me—and Migg—to the ground.
Nakari lunged forward, weaponless, and I heard more than saw blows being traded, smacks of fists on flesh, and grunts of pain and exertion. Rolling over and pushing myself onto unsteady feet, I managed to stand just as Nakari fell, her legs swept out from under her by the Gotal. He wasn’t in immediate kicking distance this time—he’d have to reset and take a few steps to get into range—and I remembered that I had a blaster. Couldn’t remember if I had set it to stun, though. He had a blaster, too, and he was remembering that at the same time I was.
R2-D2 had an arm capable of delivering an electric shock, and the Gotal never saw the strike coming from behind, having forgotten about the random droid he’d passed in the alley and probably never expecting a droid to get involved. He screamed and clutched at his horns, which due to their electric sensitivity made such shocks doubly painful, and collapsed twitching to the ground until he subsided, carried off into obli
vion for a while.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Artoo.” I wasn’t sure I would have beaten him to the draw.
“You all right?” Nakari asked, rising and knocking dust from her pants.
“I’m a bit woozy and I think I’ll be bruised and sore, but otherwise okay. You?”
“Some bruises for sure. That,” she said, pointing at the Gotal, “is a dangerous individual. Coming at us like that barehanded, with complete confidence? Crazy.”
“He had good reason to be confident. We weren’t doing so well.”
“We have to take him with us. You heard him ask about the Givin.”
“Yes, you’re right. The story will be the same to any passerby—we just have two drunk friends we’re escorting from the cantina back to our hotel.”
We lugged Migg and the Gotal up the alley to the cantina entrance, making sure our hoods were back in place, and Artoo summoned a droid taxi to take us back to the hotel. We got a few stares, but no one wanted to make our business theirs. Since it was only a short distance to the hotel, we were able to get our captives up to my room and stretched out on the large bed before they began to stir. Nakari promptly stunned them again.
“We need something to bind them,” she said. “And a guard.”
“Right. Be back soon.”
The hotel concierge was a silver protocol droid to which someone had hilariously applied a fake mustache. I made sure to keep my hood lowered to prevent him scanning my face for later download and pitched my voice higher than normal to ask his help.