A Credit For your Thoughts
Tish Eggleston Pahl & Christ Cassidy
Star Wars Gamer #2
The moment her boots landed inside the Black Dust Tavern, Fenig Nabon let out the anxious breath she'd been holding since Sullust. The galaxy might be going supernova all around them, but the legendary smugglers' haven was just as she'd left it.
Well, almost. Tonight the air was as thick with unaccustomed tension as it was with smoke. Anxious words were exchanged in dozens of languages around crowded tables. Even with out being able to understand the actual content, Fen had no problem following the tenor of the hushed conversations. Her fellow smugglers were as worried as she was and were bolting like womp rats into the closest holes they could find.
The desert planet of Socorro did little to call attention to itself with its inhospitable climate and vast plains of black volcanic ash. This was exactly why it was the preferred destination for so many on the Fringe, Fen included.
She sauntered over to the bar and tapped the shoulder of the Bothan sitting on her favorite stool. Fen jerked her head to the right and the Bothan quickly gathered up her drink and slinked away. Pulling herself up on the seat and resting her elbows on the bar, Fen sighed contentedly as she examined the hundreds of oddly shaped and brightly colored bottles lining the wall. Karl Ancher, the tavern's proprietor, claimed to have the most impressive collection of intoxicants in the galaxy.
"Hey, Nabon," the bartender growled as he lined he up with a shot of Corellia's finest, then poured one for himself. "What do you think you're doing, chasing away the paying customers?"
"I always settle my tab, Karl!" she protested with mock indignation, and then smiled affectionately at the man who had been one of her adoptive father's best friends.
They each lifted their glasses and tapped them together. "To Jett," Karl said.
"To Jett," Fen repeated, her voice a bit hoarse.
They sipped their drinks and sat in contemplative silence, as was their custom. For Fen, the absence of the man who had rescued her as a child from a life of poverty and petty crime on the streets of Coronet was still a huge, aching hole. She knew Karl felt a similar loss; he and Jett had been friends for four decades. Karl had even tried to lure his fellow Corellian into "retiring" on Socorro too, but Jett simply hadn't been ready to leave the skies. Maybe if he had he wouldn't have ended up dead on the floor of an Ord Mantell cantina. Maybe if he'd if minded his own business instead of trying to cool flaring tempers. Maybe if she hadn't left him alone. Fen clamped down brutally on that line of thinking. She had learned in her thirty-three years that maybes were a dangerous business. Still, maybe if...
"Has it really been two years?" Karl asked sadly, interrupting her thoughts.
"Two years ,four months, six days," Fen replied, staring into the glass cradled in her hands.
Karl affectionately brushed away a strand of nut-brown hair that had escaped the tie at the back of Fen's neck. "He's looking for you," he said, with a nod in the direction of a man sitting alone at a premium corner table.
"Thanks." Fed collected her drink and climbed to her feet. She thought about bridging a bottle along, but reconsidered. The only things she needed with this client were sharp wits and a credit line.
"Don't you dare break orbit without seeing me first, you hear?" Karl called, as he moved toward a pair of Duros waiting impatiently a few stools down. "I'm coming, I'm coming! Where's that rusted bardroid of mine?"
Fen couldn't fight back a small smile as she watched the graying man work his way down the bar pouring and talking, making sure everyone felt welcome and important. With a shake of her head, she turned her attention back to business.
Her client kicked a chair out with his foot as she approached. She took the invitation and sat, taking in his sharp, dark eyes and the way his arm was slung casually across the back of the empty chair next to him. He met her gaze evenly, saying nothing about how the little delivery he'd hired her for had dropped her right into the middle of the Rebel armada just before they jumped to Endor. He'd known they were massing there. He just had to have known.
"Can l get you something, Fen?" Talon Karrde asked, finally breaking the silence.
She saluted him with her drink. "I'm all set, but thanks."
"I trust everything went as planned," he said blandly.
Fen reached into one of the many pockets on her flightsuit and drew out a datapad. She pushed a couple of keys and then slid it across the table to him. She watched Karrde carefully. Just what would it take to rattle him? Perhaps the three thousand in combat allowance she'd added to her fee would do the trick.
"Looks good," Karrde said after a couple of moments' examination. "I've already transferred ten thousand into your Corellian account, plus three thousand for the unexpected company."
Fen frowned. How did he always seem to anticipate her every move? "Thanks," she said lamely.
"Nice work, by the way," he continued. "On time and under budget."
Fen nodded. She was good at what she did and she knew it. She'd had the best teacher in the galaxy. "So..."
"So?" Karrde echoed.
"Heard anything interesting lately?" Fen knew better than to get into this type of exchange with Talon Karrde, but curiosity won out over common sense. Rumors were wild and with the media still in an Imperial chokehold, information was at a premium. Karrde would know what was really going down. In this case, it would be worth the price. Besides, she'd probably be able to turn around and sell anything new at three times what it would cost her.
"Perhaps," Karrde allowed, his face a mask. "You?"
"Rebels blew another Death Star," she began, adding the first credits to the pot.
"Why do you suppose the Emperor keeps bui1dingthesethingsif the Rebels can take them out so easily?" Karrde asked, rubbing his beard.
"Don't know," Fen replied. "Maybe we should ask him."
"Unfortunately, we can't do that. "Karrde paused a moment. "As you know, he's dead."
"Pity." Fen answered. "Vader, too."
"A rebel pilot named Skywalker took them both out," Karrde divulged easily.
"He killed Jabba, too." Fen said.
"Actually, I understand that technically it wasn't Skywalker," Karrde corrected.
Fen filed that tidbit away. "Doesn't look like Fett walked away from it either," she revealed, adding to the pot.
Karrde met and raised her. "I'd not count him out until I saw the armor and the body inside it."
Fen nodded, conceding the truth of that. "Still, it's been a regular blood bath," she concluded. So far it was a draw, which against Talon Karrde was pretty good. She swirled her drink around in the glass, letting the anticipation build, and then called sabacc. "Not bad for a single Jedi."
Karrde shrugged.
Chuba! Fen swore to herself. She'd hoped to get him on that one. At least she had confirmation now. She'd picked up that little nugget after hacking briefly into the Rebel pilots' chatter during their pre-attack systems check over SulIust. She had thought, hoped actually, that she'd heard wrong. She was still mulling over the ramifications of the rise of the Jedi and what it could mean to the less law abiding citizens of the galaxy when Karrde dropped his own proton bomb.
"Han Solo is alive."
The words hung heavily between them while Fen digested that piece of information. Karrde was paying particularly close attention to her reaction, Fen noted with annoyance. Part of her wanted to snap, that yes, the all-knowing Karrde was right, and what his sources had told him was true. She'd had a brief dalliance with the smuggler-turned-rebel when she'd been too young to know better. "How very nice for
him," Fen said, faking a disinterested shrug.
"I would imagine he was pleased with the outcome," Karrde replied flatly and held out his hand.
Fen stared at it for a long moment before huffing and reaching into a pocket for a five hundred credit piece. She slapped it wordlessly into his palm, but couldn't bear to watch as it disappeared into his pocket.
Fen gave herself a hard mental shake. There'd be time to reflect on Solo later, when Karrde wasn't reading and recording her every reaction for future exploitation. "A lot of good people are loose now with Jabba gone," she said, changing course.
"Yes," Karrde agreed. "It will be some time, I think, before anyone has the resources to pay any attention to us."
"And even longer before the Hutts, or at least Jabba's clan, regroup," Fen added. She took another pull on her drink, wondering at the crafty smuggler's career goals.
He answered that question with the next neutral, carefully phrased statement. "I've decided it's a good time for building."
In their parlance, it was equivalent to a job offer. "I work alone, Talon."
"Jett wouldn't want that, Fen," he said quietly.
She felt the familiar lump form in the back of her throat. The sympathy expressed, the regret she knew so many felt with Jett's death, made her sense of loss all the more acute. She interrupted the kindness gruffly. "I'm still available for hire, though. And for you, at pre-Collapse-of-the-Empire rates."
"You are too generous."
Karrde spoke so dryly that he obviously wasn't being complimentary. Was he saying she could have driven a harder bargain with him? Fen shrugged it off. She had her reasons and trying to second guess Talon Karrde was a hyperspace jump to insanity.
"Consider it my volume discount against your future jobs, Karrde."
His tone became even more brittle. "You seem very confident, Fen."
This time, Fen saw the bluff. She was always glad to work for Karrde, but he valued reliable operators, too. "On time and under budget are one of your favorite combinations," she reminded him, pleased that she could quote his own words back.
"Indeed they are," he agreed.
Fen knew he was letting the suspense build. She waited, and finally Karrde said, "As it happens, I might have something for you."
"Oh yeah?" Fen lifted an eyebrow and her glass. Karrde hadn't touched his cloudy drink. It looked like a Sunburn. Did it even have intoxicants in it? Paying Ancher to water down his own drink while spiking everyone else's might be the sort of thing Karrde would do. In the interest of generosity and information gathering, of course.
"I'm looking for a base to headquarter my operation," Karrde said. He drew a data disk from the pocket of his black leather jacket and slid it across the table.
Fen picked up the disk and made a show of examining it for any obvious flaws before popping it into her datapad. She scrolled quickly through the information and whistled softly. "Some pretty exact specs here."
"I'm sure you can understand my need for certain precautions," he replied.
Fen nodded, still reading. Stang. He wasn't kidding about building an organization. In fact, under this plan, she'd take the bet Karrde would be on top of the smugglers' pyramid in four or five years. For half a second she reconsidered his job offer, thinking that getting in on the ground level might be wise. She dismissed the idea just as quickly.
Karrde might think her fault was generosity, but she thought his was loyalty. He'd be sure to gather beings around him who shared that value. Intense friendships would be inevitable. The mere thought of becoming that attached to anything to anyone was unthinkable. Jett had taught her never to risk anything she couldn't afford to lose; it was a lesson Fen had taken to heart. No, she thought, it was better to keep herself apart and remain an independent operator.
"You really think these kinds of precautions are necessary?" she asked, dropping her voice lower as she read the most unusual spec on the list
Karrde stroked his beard before he replied. "Did Jett ever speak to you of the Jedi?"
Fen nodded, remembering the elaborate tales her adoptive father had woven for her. "He had the kind of healthy respect for them that one does for a krayt dragon - a mixture of awe and fear." She shook her head and the memories away. "Weren't Jedi supposed to be guardians of peace and justice? A sort of intergalactic police force?"
"Information about them before the purges is pretty scarce," Karrde replied. "But, it seems the Jedi served at the beck and call of the Senate, forwarding the Republic's agenda across the galaxy."
Yes, Fen thought, Karrde would now make it his business to find out whatever he could. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "If the past is any guide, neither the Jedi, nor the new Senate the Rebellion is supposedly intending to establish are likely to appreciate our methods of doing business."
"We're talking about one Jedi here," Fen objected quietly. "Not thousands."
Karrde narrowed his eyes in annoyance. "Skywalker destroyed Darth Vader and the Emperor in a matter of days."
Her head was reeling. Sure, like everyone else she knew the Empire was probably on its way down, but the Jedi rising in its place? Karrde was overreacting. Wasn't he? "Yes, but - "
"And how long do you think it will take Skywalker to start reestablishing a Jedi Order?" Karrde pressed. "And once he does that, how long before they turn their attention to us, with or without a new Senate?"
"I don't know. Five, ten years. Maybe twenty," Fen guessed.
"I still plan to be around then." Karrde leaned back in his seat again. "I also plan to be ready when they come."
Fen again glanced down at the specs on the datapad, seeing now why Karrde had come to her. "We know there were smuggling operations and even a Fringe during the days of the Republic," she said. "They must have had ways to get around Jedi then."
Karde nodded. " I thought that Jett might have known of possible locations. He was working the lanes before we were even born."
"I'll see what I can do," she said casually returning the data pad to her pocket. Fen didn't want to tip Karrde off to the fact that she'd all but memorized Jett's obscenely detailed data files and couldn't recall anything meeting these specs. This job was going to take some serious effort. But, if she got lucky, a satisfied Talon Karrde would pay for the drive upgrade, with enough left over for those Arakyd missiles. "Reach you through the usual channels?"
Karrde nodded again, then his eyes narrowed, taking in something going on behind her. Fen turned around in her seat, wondering who had the misfortune of irritating Talon Karrde.
"Who is that, and what is she doing?" he asked tightly.
His attention was focused on an impeccably dressed woman, talking earnestly with a human male at the bar. Glittering rings on the woman's hand flashed through the murky tavern as she gestured elaborately. She stuck out like a Hutt at a charity dinner.
Fen turned back to companion and held out her palm. Karrde put a fifty-credit piece in it. She didn't continue until he added another fifty.
"Her name is Ghitsa Dogder," Fen told hi. "She's from Coruscant."
Karrde snorted and took back a fifty. "Obviously, in that outfit. What is she doing here?"
Fen waited as he placed the fifty back in her palm. "She's a con. I've seen her pushing scams for a while now." She pivoted around again for a closer look at the complicated-appearing device in Dodger's hands.
"Is that what I think it is?" Karrde ventured, speaking the skepticism Fen was thinking.
"Looks like a retinal disguiser," Fen agreed. "But I've never seen on in that kind of configuration before."
"Any device to foil a retinal scan must be species-specific," Karrde observed coolly. "The one she has looks as if it can be modified for different species."
Fen rolled her eyes and turned back around. "I'd say the odds of that thing working are about the same as the Jedi returning," she said, repeating the well-used adage without even thinking.
"The Jedi have returned," Karrde answered.
"A Jedi:' Fen pointed out. "Not the Jedi."
"True."
Fen slapped the table and forced a smile. "Space, Karrde. I wish I had a legion of them here to mark the occasion that you admitted to being wrong."
He arched an eyebrow, completely unfazed. "I am not wrong; I merely have an incomplete picture of the situation. Only time will prove which of us has the better information."
A whole temple of Jedi would have to reappear before Fen would take that bet against Talon Karrde. For the millionth time, she wished for the quiet assurance of Jett at her side. He'd have known what to make of all this. "Her mark is a friend of yours?" she said, taking Karrde's interest as a chance to get off the topic of the Jedi.
"His name is Aves," Karrde affirmed, very quietly. "He is one of my newer people:'
Fen pocketed her hard-earned credits. Frowning, she now wondered how this annoying woman had managed to get to Socorro ahead of her. She'd run into Dogder on Sullust, and Fen had cleared out when the Rebel fleet arrived. She'd seen Dogder on Corellia too, and before that, on Abregado-Rae. lt was high time for Fen to find out what the con wanted from her.
She and Karrde both watched as Aves took the goggle-shaped contraption from Dogder to examine it.
"I may let Aves lose a couple hundred to teach him something, but Ghitsa Dogder should know that
there will be repercussions to cheating my people:'
"I'll get her off your back," Fen said, standing.
He looked at her, and crossed his arms across his chest. "Are you implying I need your services to handle a Coruscanti con in designer wear?"
Laughing, Fen shook her head. "Never. This one's on me. She's got some information I want."
Fen strolled up to Aves and Dogder, just in time to see the man hand the goggles back.
"No thanks," Aves said. "I can't see needing something quite like this."
Evidently Karrde included a course in desert-dry delivery for his new hires. Aves had it down perfectly. Why, Fen wondered, feeling an odd prickle, was an experienced con bothering to dangle bait her mark obviously wasn't biting?
Fen had two methods of barging uninvited into conversations. With her subtle approach, she actually used words first. "Good evening, gentles," she said. Aves and Dogder both turned on their stools to stare at her.
A Credit For Your Thoughts - Gamer #2 Page 1