Star Wars: Scourge (7 page)

“This vessel is waiting at landing pad X-13 on Makem Te,” said Vago through the droid. “It is being loaded as we speak.”

Reen’s attention was on the ship at once, the statue now forgotten. “That’s a Suwantek TL-1200 freighter,” she said. “Dependable model, easily modded and customized. Can be handled solo, but flies better with a crew. Two quad laser turrets. No custom work that I can see. Bit dinged up. It will do.” She nodded her approval to Mander.

“Better condition than our last ship,” muttered Eddey, punching up a detailed schematic.

Vago ignored both of them and handed Mander a datapad. The droid translated. “The medicinal spice will be loaded into the aft compartments. We don’t know the specific details of the plague itself, so the spice is a broadband antisporant and pain suppressor.”

Reen’s head popped up from checking the ship’s stats. Mander saw her jaw tighten slightly as she asked, “Does All-Wise Popara do a lot of trade in spice?”

Vago looked over her data goggles at the Pantoran, then shrugged. The droid translated without comment. “Some. Mostly medicinal. This is not the first time Great Popara has directed spice to handle a crisis. He also ships glitterstim when he chooses to speculate on the market.”

“Nothing … worse?” said Reen. She tried to keep the words light, but Mander could see the shadow of a disapproving frown.

The Hutt factotum’s eyes narrowed, and the droid hesitated before translating. “No. Benevolent Popara chooses not to deal in slaves or in hard spices. He sees that there is enough misery in the galaxy without adding to it, and enough opportunity that he may gain wealth without contributing to that misery.”

“Regardless,” said Mander, “I think we should check
the cargo before we get to Endregaad. It would be embarrassing to be found running contraband. The CSA in particular takes a dim view of spice smugglers.”

Vago made a chuffing noise. “Understood,” said the droid, taking the datapad from the Jedi. It handed the ’pad to Vago, who punched a few more buttons and handed it back. “This clears you to access the crates, and allows you to determine that they are what we claim them to be.”

“I am sorry if I sound untrusting,” said Mander.

Vago’s face was a blank, offering no more clue to her thoughts than the droid translator. “Not at all. Hutts have a … shall we say, reputation … in such things. One assumes that all Hutts are criminals, just as all Bothans are spies.” Despite himself, Mander shot a glance at Eddey, who was poring over the ship schematics and paying no apparent attention to any of them. Reen had joined him in investigating the plans.

“Wise Popara is no fool,” Vago continued through the droid. “He has survived clan wars and assassination attempts, and has found a position of strength in honesty. That is one reason to deal with the Jedi. Your Order does not leap to conclusions quite as rapidly as others.”

“We try to keep open minds,” said Mander.

Vago let out a snort and spoke in Huttese, holding up a hand to instruct the droid not to translate for the others. In Huttese she said, “Pity that the CSA does not follow your example. We have hit a wall dealing with them. Zonnos himself has taken over the negotiations, and hasn’t gotten much farther. In the meantime, Popara is distracted by his missing son, and the business suffers. And that makes it my worry.”

“Hmmm,” said Mander in Basic. “You are not worried about Mika?”

“I worry about Popara and his lineage,” said Vago, choosing her words carefully. To Mander it seemed that
the Hutt wanted him to hear the words without going through a translator. “Benevolent Popara inspires loyalty, and hopes to make that loyalty his gift to his children. Zonnos is more typical of our species, but Mika has potential. I think that is why Popara is … concerned.”

“You are not Anjiliac clan, are you?” asked Mander. He shot a glance at his two companions, but they were still looking at the schematics. He wondered idly if the Bothan understood Huttese.

“No, I was spawned of the Gejalli family,” said Vago.

“I am not familiar with that clan,” said Mander.

“Because I am the only one in it,” said Vago, her face expressionless. “I said that Popara has survived numerous clan wars. The Gejallis were among the clans that confused openness for weakness and sought to defeat the Anjiliacs. I am the survivor.”

Mander raised an eyebrow. “And yet you work for him?”

Vago let out a deep sigh, and for a moment the officious mask of the majordomo slipped. “I was but a child, and by rights and tradition Popara could have ended my life. Instead he brought me in and trained me as his own. I owe him much and I want to see his true child returned to him. It is difficult to explain to an outlander.”

“We outlanders understand more than you think,” said Mander. “One last question: Why was Mika on Endregaad in the first place?” From the corner of his eye Mander noticed the Bothan’s head come up a bit. Eddey was definitely listening now.

Vago stiffened slightly and lowered her hand, allowing the droid to resume its translation, the air of familiarity gone once more. “Family business. One of our many holdings is Skydove Freight. The office is in Tel Bollin, the main colony on the planet. Mika was negotiating
with geode miners. A small task, but Popara wants his children to understand the business. No one anticipated the plague … or the quarantine.”

“Does the other son, Zonnos, do small tasks as well?” asked Mander.

“Sometimes,” said Vago through the droid, and then allowed herself a deep chuckle. “If they are not too complicated.”

“Will the CSA be expecting us?”

“No. We offered aid but they turned it down,” said Vago. “They will not be expecting it this soon in any event, as a normal ship would have to go around the Spiral. They will probably have at least one ship in orbit, and knowing the CSA it’s probably an old rust bucket with limited maneuverability, but enough ordnance to start a small war.”

“That would be expected with the Corporate Sector,” said Mander.

“The coordinates should bring you in on the far side of the system. Prescient Vago recommends you run the blockade,” translated the H-3PO unit. “Use some of the medicine to bribe the local officials on the ground. If you need to, offer the remaining spice to the CSA by way of an apology later. The plague is truly secondary compared with the safety of an Anjiliac scion.”

Mander nodded. Popara may be described as benevolent, wise, and kindly, but the fate of a world would not matter next to Mika.

“The Anjiliac family leaves such matters to your discretion,” spoke the droid. “And you will need to be vaccinated, of course. Vago will summon a medical droid. If you need anything else, this unit will see to your needs.” Not waiting for the droid to finish, Vago Gejalli slithered through the door.

“Do we have enough information?” asked Mander. Reen had been drawn into the schematics. The Bothan
looked up, and saw Mander pointing to the walls and to the droid. The Bothan nodded. Both of them assumed listening devices in the walls, and droids had big receptors.

“A moment, Jedi,” said the droid. “There is someone else who would speak with you.”

“Vago will be back soon enough, but I think we are available,” said Mander.

“Not the others, I’m afraid,” said the droid, looking at the Bothan. “Just the Jedi. For a moment.”

Mander looked at Eddey, and the Bothan shrugged. The Jedi left Eddey and Reen going over the manifest, and followed the droid across the hall.

The warm room was dimly lit, and stank worse than the grand meeting room. As soon as he entered, two Wookiees closed in behind him, blocking the door. Two more flanked the elder son, Zonnos, sprawled on a repulsorlift couch.

The hairs on the back of Mander’s neck stood up in a way that they had not in the presence of the older Hutt. The younger creature was in better shape, and although smaller, he seemed more malignant than his parent. His flesh had a bluish sheen, and even in this light Mander could see that his eyes were red and rheumy. Too much of the hokuum.

“Mighty Zonnos, may his digestion always be sound,” said the droid, and the Wookiees behind them gave a laugh.

Mander said nothing, and Zonnos spat out a string of guttural noises, rounded by drink and almost impossible for Mander to translate. The droid put in, “Kindly Zonnos wants to wish you good luck on your mission and tell you that he has no hard feelings over an outlander being chosen to aid the family. This is a dangerous situation, and Zonnos wants you to know you have the support of the clan.”

“I appreciate kindly Zonnos’s concern, and that of clan Anjiliac,” said Mander.

Another slurred garble, and the droid hesitated. One of the Wookiees smacked it across the back of the head, and it spat out, “Mighty Zonnos wants you to know that even if you fail to find his brother or—Ardos forbid—are too late to save him, you will still have an ally among the Anjiliacs.”

Zonnos waited for the droid to finish, then managed a lazy, single wink. It laughed, and for a moment Mander’s blood ran cold. Then the Wookiees grabbed Mander by the shoulders and forcefully escorted both him and the droid back into the hallway.

“That went better than usual,” said the droid, touching its head casing where the Wookiee had smacked it. “Let us get back to the others.”

When they returned, both Reen and Eddey were rubbing their shoulders from the ball-shaped medical droid administering a vaccination with a wicked-looking needle. Vago had returned as well. “Where did you disappear to?” asked the Hutt in her native language.

“Zonnos wanted to talk to me,” said Mander, not waiting for the droid to translate. He figured that direct honesty was the best approach. Vago would cross-examine the droid in any event.

The Hutt factotum harrumphed and said in rapid Huttese, “Then I should make this a double dose. Exposure to Zonnos is sometimes fatal. I have included information on Endregaad, Mika, the disease itself, and what we know about the quarantine blockade.” Vago focused Mander’s attention so that he did not notice the ball-droid swooping around and quickly injecting him with a vaccine.

“There should be no problems with the vaccine,” Vago said. She looked at the Bothan and added, “If there are any odd symptoms, contact us at once. The Threepio
unit will see you are returned to the spaceport.” Eddey just growled at Vago’s back as the Hutt left, the medical droid swept up behind her.

“What just happened?” said Reen.

“Let’s talk about it later,” said Mander. “Are you ready to go?”

“I’ve got a ship, I’ve got a cargo, and I’ve got a lot of questions to be answered,” said Reen. “Ready as I’ll ever be. I’ve even named the ship.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“New Ambition,”
said Reen with a smile.

“Just ignore the fact,” added Eddey, “that the old
Ambition
is now so much scrap. Otherwise it is not an auspicious name at all.”

“The one you hunt is named Mander Zuma,” said Koax to the ghostly image. “He is a
Jeedai
of middling years and equally middling ability. Unlike most of his breed, he is surprisingly light in legends of daring that seem to accrete to these monks. He is, in short, a nondescript. Hardly a challenge for one such as yourself.”

Across from the Klatooinian hovered the image of Hedu, matriarch of the Bomu clan. She was a thin, wasp-like female, made even more ethereal by the holographic projection. Behind her lurked the flickering of others shifting just at the edges of the image field—relatives acting as bodyguards, in the Rodian fashion.

The Rodian matriarch let out a long, wheezing sigh. She contained more air than her phantom image suggested. Even so, she managed to exhale a question. “You are sure he is the one? The one who killed my clanchildren on Makem Te?”

“I have confirmed it,” said Koax, politely. “He made little point in concealing his identity, as the
Jeedai
priests are wont to do. He apparently was the teacher of the other
Jeedai
—the one you poisoned.”

“On your orders,” said Hedu.

“On the orders of the Spice Lord,” said Koax, pulling her authorization around her like a cloak.

The Rodian matriarch made a gurgling, chugging noise that Koax assumed was laughter. “Perhaps the
Jeedai
hunts for his own vengeance.”

Koax considered the Rodian’s worldview, one of continual revenge against slights real and imagined, and thought that in this case it had merit. “Perhaps,” she said. “One of his companions, definitely so.”

“You have learned of his companions?” said the Rodian, her trumpet-belled antennae practically quivering.

“A Pantoran spacer, Reen Irana,” said Koax. “Sister to the
Jeedai
you … 
we
had killed.”

The matriarch let out a long angry hiss, and Koax wondered if the Rodian leader had been dipping into her own private spice supplies. “Yes, that makes sense. The
Jeedai
seeks vengeance, and brings along others of a similar mind.”

From everything that Koax had learned, that seemed unlikely, but she said nothing to dissuade the Rodian. “And a Bothan. They were the ones who killed your clanchildren and burned your stocks.”

“Bothan,” said the Rodian, and let out a string of curses. “You can always find one of them wherever there is trouble. Where are they now?”

“They are guests of a Hutt clan lord, aboard his yacht, in orbit over Makem Te,” said Koax.

The matriarch stroked a few long hairs on her chin. “A carefully timed shuttle, loaded with explosives, could bring down any yacht.”

“No,” said Koax. “That will not do.”

The matriarch seethed through the holographic connection, “The
Jeedai
has killed my clanchildren! Nothing else should stand in the way of vengeance.”

“They are on a Hutt ship,” said Koax calmly. “Do
you think that the protection that my lord offers is sufficient to protect you from a Hutt patriarch? It is bad enough that we have to worry about the Jedi Order. I do not want a Hutt mercantile clan prying into our business.”

The ancient Rodian rocked back, hissing in displeasure, and almost disappeared from the holographic view entirely. Koax wondered if the refusal to condone the bombing had given the old raptor an aneurism. The Rodian recovered herself, though. Measuring her words as carefully as if they were grains of Tempest itself, she said, “What would you have us do?”