Chapter Three

Nighttime had fallen outside the huge building that housed the business complex of Chancai.  Its outer lying trade areas, known to traders as Fringe-Mall, activated the massive generators that powered the flood lighting over the huge area.  Nothing ever stopped the trading on Chancai.  Governments had come and gone.  Empires had risen, Republics had fallen.  Mega companies had gone bust and new ones taken their place, but Chancai always remained.  On this side of the Mid-Rim it was the only serious location to deal, and millions did.  Every major franchise in the sector, every major business, every self-respecting wheeler-dealer had some connection with Chancai.  Most crime syndicates ran their operations through here, some on their way out from and some in towards the Core.  Entertainers from around the Empire regularly performed here in the huge casinos and pleasure palaces spread around the complex.  The Empire insisted on a massive and regular presence but even they were wise enough to realise that Chancai ran best when left to its own devices.  Easier then to tax them to the hilt and take the rewards. 

Secured and safe in the warmth and comfort of his plush office, Grand Moff Den Treece leaned back in his reclining chair and savoured the taste of the last Fflivian truffles he’d had imported from Fflivia.  It was his favourite delicacy and its rich warm taste always left him feeling exquisitely relaxed.  His chair lazily turned, rewarding him with a view from his window of the distant Tuca Mountains and the vast expanse of Fringe-Mall, which had grown beyond recognition during the eight years of his reign as Grand Moff of the sector.  He lived well, and beyond his means.  Why sacrifice all that is required to become such a powerful man and not enjoy the rewards when you get there?  Den Treece fully intended to enjoy every morsel he could get.  His musings were broken by the bleeping of his comm panel. 

   “Yes, what is it?”  he demanded.  He so hated having his precious free time interrupted.

   “Your Excellency, the information you requested has arrived.  And its courier is demanding to see you immediately.” 

Oh he is, is he?  smiled Treece to himself.  We’ll just have to teach the little man some humility.  Let him know who’s the Moff around here.

   “Send a squad down to escort him to my office on Level 15.  And verify the authenticity of the document he’s delivered.  If I find my time’s being wasted then someone’s head will roll.”

   “Yes, Your Excellency.” 

The connection was severed hastily.  Treece had to laugh. He had so many men under his command on this outpost alone, cloned Stormtroopers quietly transferred from Trefnare, that he probably had the tactical capability to wage war with half the sector.  Yet it still gave him the most pleasure watching just one cadet squirm.  Funny that.  Probably some deep-rooted psychological reason for it.  But to be truthful, who gives a damn? 

When the door to his office was rapped from the outside three minutes later he was on his feet and gazing out of the window, looking down upon his own private Empire.  He waited for long enough, then just a heartbeat longer before speaking.

   “Enter.”  He heard the familiar sound of Stormtroopers enter his room, and the presence of another he wasn’t familiar with.  Turning to address the man he was surprised to see how non-descript he was.  He wore a frayed leather jacket, but he could have been anybody.  Hard to believe he could be part of the downfall of one of the most powerful men in the sector.  But not the most powerful.  Never the most powerful.

   “You the man I’ve been sent to see?”  the man asked.  Treece raised one eyebrow in surprise.

   “You don’t recognise me?” 

The man shook his head and scratched behind his ear.

  “Pal, I wouldn’t recognise my own Grandmother if she came riding in on a Gundark wearing a top hat.  But I’m told you’re the big Bantha round here.” 

Treece nodded.

   “That’s right.  And my patience is as short as my time.  Do you have the disk?” 

The man nodded and motioned to a nearby Stormtrooper who handed the disk over to Treece.  Taking the disk, Treece stepped back behind the desk and seated himself. 

   “So, Mister Bigshot, when do I get paid?” 

Treece smiled a reptilian-like smile and inclined his head to the Stormtrooper standing to his right.

   “Commander.  Pay the man.”

   “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  I know I’m late but you know how bad the speeder lanes get on Level 11 at this time of night, what with Dressel’s new casino opening and all that.”  Lomona panted. 

Boba shrugged.

   “Don’t worry.  Grabby’s not here yet.” 

Jan frowned and shook his head.  He was ten minutes late as it was, and Frans was five minutes behind him.  How typical of Grabby to make Jan appear punctual.  At least it gave him time to compose himself.  He leaned against the wall at the rear of Grabby’s Gunshop, the hot air of the ventilation shaft flowing past them.  Jan and Boba had agreed to meet here before entering the rear of the shop.  A few small hover vessels drifted by occasionally, the drone of worker droids in the distance, but rarely many people.  It was one of the largest and most infrequently visited areas on Chancai.  Grease and grime coated the walls, an accumulation of centuries of engine pollution and jet dirt. Up here on Level 11 the drop over the edge was well over two kilometres, right through the levels below and down to the reactor core.  One false move….

   “Sorry I’m late guys.  Got held up by an Imperial inspection crew.”  Grabby Cap opened the rear door narrowly and beckoned the two of them inside.  “Come on in, I’ve got news for both of you.” 

Boba and Jan exchanged interested glances and went inside.

Grabby’s armoury was a museum of inter-galactic hardware, and if it wasn’t here then, as Grabby Holo-vid ads proudly proclaimed, it probably didn’t exist.  Leading through the rear of the shop and just skirting by the main shop floor the three of them ascended a short flight of stairs and secured themselves in Grabby’s office.  He seated himself behind his desk, which was covered in gun parts and weapons manuals and wiped the corners of his small mouth.  Grabby was a stout and compact man of mid years and permanently chewed on a fat cigar wedged into the corner of his mouth.  And with as many years in the gun trade as he had, when Grabby Cap spoke people listened.

   “I’ve been hearing rumours,” he began, looking from one man to the other. “I can’t verify any of this but it’s what I’ve heard.” 

Boba leaned forward.

   “What is it Grab?”

   “First things first.  Why are you two guys here?  Glann’s never sent you out together on a mission before as far as I can remember.  What’s so different now?” 

Jan shifted in his seat.

   “ I’m not telling you this.”  Jan looked serious.   “This goes no further.”

   “Understood.”  Grabby was as good as his word, so Jan continued.

   “As you know, Boba’s been made Glann’s operative on Chancai.  I’m off on a job for him which is going to take me out of the sector for two months.” 

Grabby pulled an impressed face.

   “Must be some heavy duty deal to let you go for that long.”

   “It is.”

   “So what have you heard?”  interjected Boba.  “Rumours are flying around Chancai like bad smells.  Tell us something solid.”

Grabby raised his eyebrows. 

   “Glann has a mole at the Amagad Fortress.” 

Boba looked at Jan blankly, and Jan remembered his promise to Terrie not to let on that he knew.  He feigned surprise.

   “A mole?  You’ve gotta be kidding.  No mole would ever get out alive.”  He hoped he sounded convincingly shocked.

   “It’s what I heard, and my sources are rarely wrong.” 

At this Boba leaned forward.

   “As Glann’s designated operative on Chancai I think it’s my job to at least ask you who your source is.”

Grabby half-smiled.

   “I’ll upgrade your blaster to a P-33 Type Two if you don’t.” 

Boba nodded cheerfully.   Grabby continued.

   “I’ve heard that a disk was stolen, that one of Glann’s guards was stunned and information taken from one of his terminals on level 6.  That the security cameras weren’t even switched on at the time.”

   “Were they on the diagnostic cycle?”  asked Jan.

   “I guess so.  Anyway, Glann hit the roof, had the guard executed and stopped any ships from leaving the city until he was certain he’d caught the perpetrator.”

   “And do you think he succeeded?”  asked Lomona again, “Or is this disk out on the market for bids?” 

Grabby shrugged his shoulders.

   “That’s anybody’s guess.  Me, I doubt it.  Why go to all the trouble of stealing something from Glann Cipple and then auction it on the market?  It’s an invitation to be caught.” 

That’s a good point, thought Jan.  It must have gone direct to whoever wanted it.  But where?  And who?

    “So this job you’re going on Jan,” began Grabby.

   “Don’t even ask, pal.  You don’t want to know.”

   “I’m betting it’s got something to do with this whole deal.  Am I right?” 

Jan laughed as he stood up from the desk and opened the door for Frans who was making her way up the stairwell.

   “Wouldn’t know Grab.  I’m not a betting man.”

     “…will you please listen to reason and calm down for a minute!”  Terrie shook Paige by the shoulders roughly and tried to rattle some calm into her.  It wasn’t working.  Paige had been like this ever since they’d blasted their way through Grey Sector at the back of the port area on Level 12, trying to sneak their way back to the Berone Sunrise.  They’d made it, the Sunrise gleaming under the bright lights of the hangar.  Paige was about to run out at full speed to the waiting starship, and would have run headlong into an ambush.  Four hired guns were waiting for them by the ship, and Terrie spotted them just in time.  Yanking Paige hard she ran for the exit and skidded around the corner into a side corridor.  The young girl had complained all the way.  This was hard work - field training never prepared her for this.

   “You could have taken them out Terrie!  We were there, now we’ll never find them!” 

Terrie looked away, a thought just beginning to form in her mind.  How did they find the ship so quickly?  If whoever stole the disk has delivered it to their employer and they now know the designation and design of the Berone Sunrise…no, that doesn’t make any sense.  We’d only be in danger if the recipient of the disk were based on Chancai itself.  But that doesn’t narrow things down either.  Most of the major operators in the sector run through this place.  But there’s no way an agent could have stolen any information concerning the D’Staan job because Glann never dumped it into his database, he kept the Letter-search D’Staan sent him on his person. But he had placed selective information, like their three stop-off points, into the database. So, whoever’s following us isn’t trying to take Jan and the rest of us out of the game, or out of the mission.  They must be trying to discredit Glann Cipple.  Does that make any sense? She thought to herself.  Who knows?  All she did know was that she had to get Paige to settle down soon or else they’d both be targets for any passing criminal.

   “Paige, listen to me.  I know you’re scared but this is going to get us nowhere but trouble.  I know a few places we can lie low and wait things out before we try to reach the ship again.” 

Paige breathed in deeply and nodded, her borderline hysteria ebbing away.

   “I’m sorry Terrie.  I know you can do without this, but you’ve got to understand.  I’ve spent so long looking for him, to finally be there and then to have it wrenched away.  I can’t stand it.” 

Terrie smiled at her and led her towards a nearby entrance.

   “I promise you, when I see a chance to make it to the Sunrise we’ll take it.” 

If we ever get another chance.

    “So what are our options?”  Frans lounged back in the leather of the acceleration couch and ran her fingers through her tousled red hair.  Jan shook his head tiredly and reclined next to her, the fatigue on his features apparent.

   “Your guess is as good as mine.  We can’t comm them.  Who knows if our enemies have access to bugging devices?  They might have the comm channel codes from the disk. And going out looking for them is going to be a complete waste of time.  We’ve more chance of finding a Star destroyer at a Jawa Swap meet.  No, we’ll just have to play it cool.  We’ve got another day here before we’re scheduled to get more information, let’s just play it cool and see what comes up.” 

Frans nodded and rested her head on the couch pillow.

   “What now?  It’s only 22.30 hours, the night is young.  Glann wouldn’t expect you to be sitting in the Sunrise doing nothing.  Maybe we should hit the bars and see what we can find?” 

Lomona shook his head.

   “Right now that would be asking for trouble.  A bar’s the last place we want to be.”  He grinned.  “I’m sure glad Glann’s not here to see this.”

   “See what?”

   “Me twiddling my thumbs wondering what the hell to do.  I’m sure he’d be less than impressed.” 

Frans reached out a hand to her fiancée, which he took gently.

   “Honey, I’m less than impressed.  But I don’t pay your wages.  At the end of the day Glann hired you to get the job to Abrogard done and that’s what you’re going to do.  So buck up and let’s get out there and find them.”  She said it with a finality that Jan found hard to resist.

   “You know, sometimes I wonder why you stick around.  With me, I mean.  This sort of stuff can be tiresome.” 

Frans nodded as she stood up.

   “It is.  I only stick around because I’ve got you under my skin.”

   “I like the sound of that.”

   “You should.”

   “I guess we’d better make a move then?”

   “Sooner rather than later.”

   “Mmm-hmm.” 

They both stood still for a moment, enjoying the look the one gave the other until they both snapped back to reality.  Jan grabbed his jacket and utility belt; Frans slipped into her heels and slung on her gunbelt.  As they prepared to exit the Sunrise, Aurran cranked into the lounge area.

   “Master Jan, will there be any specific duties you require from me tonight.  If not, may I take the time to power down and recharge my battery cells?” 

Jan patted the old droid on his rust coloured head.

   “Not a problem old buddy.  Anyone legit wants me, they’ve got my number.  Besides, I’m guessing that Terrie’s too smart to comm me.”

   “I hope so sir.  Goodnight.”  The elderly droid clunked down to the engine area and his small alcove. Frans grinned as he left.

   “How long have you had him now?  Fifteen, sixteen years?” 

Jan nodded.

   “Came with me when I left A-desando.  Remember when I couldn’t afford to keep him with me and Romanoe kept him in that old outlaw tech place he had on Entall?”  Frans nodded in recollection.  Romanoe was one of the oldest friends the couple had, and was the first place Jan went when he required work on the Berone Sunrise.  Their long relationship had led them into various scrapes, including one that involved their mutual friend Aurran.   During gang disturbances fifteen years ago Jan had to leave Aurran in the hands of Romanoe.  At the time Lomona had been doing some of his first jobs for Glann, and couldn’t afford the millstone of a droid around his neck.  Glann had insisted that he sell the old droid or trade him in for a newer model but Jan refused.  His family had owned Aurran for many years and Jan had formed a strong bond with the cranky old machine.  Besides, he’d always enjoyed the company of droids, his family having many around their spacious home.  A dispute between rival gangs threatened the stability of the truces that had sprung up between the crime lords and it fell to Jan and a small group of more experienced men to help allay an all out gang war.  It wasn’t until a short while later that Jan, through Romanoe, learned that Aurran had in fact been in the employ of one of their rival gangs and had amassed a sizeable amount of information on the operation.  This inevitably led to a tricky situation.  When Glann learned of this he insisted that Aurran be stripped down to his bare wires for all the information he contained and it was only through the delicate and skilled actions of Romanoe and his techs that the old droid was saved.  Jan owed Romanoe a great debt. And the droid?  Well, Aurran professed to not remember any of the encounter but Jan knew better than that.

Soon after leaving the Sunrise Jan and Frans had entered the heavy throng of people that regularly flowed through the busy streets of Level 12. At this time of night the streets were awash with street performers, stalls, merchants, hookers, pickpockets, local militia and Stormtroopers.  True to form, this was yet another of the minutes on Chancai that wasn’t a dull one.  Even through all of this Jan was on high alert, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as they entered the main plaza on the Southside of Level 12.  Ahead of them lay the vast expanse of the plaza, surrounded by the first rows of shops and units.  Central to the whole area was the massive starship tunnel.  Vehicles of all kinds were rising and descending through the enormous square opening, some headed towards the exit port fourteen levels above, some making their way down to the eleven levels below.  Jan was always nothing but impressed when presented with this sight - the view alone while descending down to the required level was awe-inspiring.  And to think, all that kept the starships from blasting their way into the main shopping areas was a hugely powerful force field generated from two generators, one below the city itself and one to the north, under the mountains.  Chancai - love it or loathe it, you simply couldn’t ignore it.

Jan however was trying desperately to ignore the small crowd of street vendors who had gathered around him and Frans, drawing attention to them in a most unwelcome manner.  No matter what he did or said he couldn’t seem to lose the batch of salesmen, and no words could persuade them that it was prudent to vanish.  Brute force was unwise; Jan could see a detachment of Stormtroopers from where he was standing.  On any other world at any other time he might have tried to get their attention just to get rid of the troublesome group but today on Chancai was another matter entirely.  The last thing he wanted was to be under scrutiny by the Empire, he had enough warrants out for his arrest as it was. No, this demanded another way of thinking altogether….

He just hadn’t thought of it yet.

   “Just two credits for this exquisite silk shawl, make your woman look beautiful.”

   “There’s nothing you have that could make this woman any more beautiful than she is already.”

   “Not on this world perhaps….” the Rodian trader lisped as he fished around in his sack for more merchandise. 

Jan shook his head in exasperation and marched away at full steam, Frans in tow.

   “Wait good sir, I have here baubles from Wennicas, no?  The gallstone of the famed Krictakk?  Rarest jewel in all of Setnin Sector!” 

Jan shook his head.

   “Been there, met that, got one.” 

The Rodian wiped its snout, perhaps beginning to sense the battle was lost.  Jan shrugged smugly. 

   “There’s nothing you have that I could possibly want.” 

At this the Rodian stepped back and was replaced by another trader, this one a native of Zelon itself.  Jan could tell by the dark, honey coloured sheen of his skin and the keen glint in his eye.  This man had an air of danger about him and Jan didn’t believe for a minute that he was a trader.

   “Perhaps I could be of some assistance.  I could have something for sale that makes these mere trinkets pale into insignificance.” 

The sales-Rodian snorted indignantly and slinked off after another victim.  Jan inclined his head to the mysterious man.

   “And what makes you think I’m in the business of buying?  Professional acumen?”

   “Something like that.  We both know you are here for more than a simple stroll by the seafront, just as you know I am more than a simple salesman.” 

Frans looked up at Jan as the look on the towering smugglers face changed. Stroll by the seafront?  An interesting turn of phrase given their recent walk around the Bay of Amagad. 

   “Maybe we do have something to talk about after all.”  said Jan.

The man nodded. 

   “Where do you suggest we meet?” 

The man raised his chin and eyed Jan and Frans closely.

   “Somewhere neutral, to allay your obvious fears of deception.”

 Lomona shook his head. 

   “You won’t allay that whatever you do.”

   “Maybe not.  But I can give you information.  And a message, from my anonymous employer.” 

Jan frowned.  This was getting shadier all the time.

   “And what message is that then?”  He felt the grip of Frans’ hand tighten as she brushed against him closely. 

The man simply smiled.

   “We’re watching you.”  

   “Are you sure you know this guy?” asked Paige with a worried edge to her voice.  Terrie acknowledged her with a silent nod and closed the door in the leering mans face.

   “Varee Koors might be a letch but he’s well known for keeping a safe house, and that’s a rarity here on Chancai.  Don’t fret, we’ll get some sleep and approach this from a new angle in the morning.” 

Paige looked less than reassured as she moved to the window and slid back the blind.  It wasn’t much of a sight.  Here on the Southside of the 11^th Level there was little to see.  Their room backed onto probably the dirtiest, grimiest supply tunnel in the entire complex.  Frowning she spun to face Terrie who was rummaging through her equipment.

   “So Terrie, what do you do?  Apart from get girls like me into trouble?” 

Without looking up Terrie grinned.

   “You sounded just like him then.”

   “Who?”

   “Your Father.” 

Paige looked almost surprised at this statement and sat down on a chair.

   “So you really think he’s my Dad?” 

Terrie nodded. 

   “Well, you’re the only one.  Nobody back home believed me when I decided to leave.  They all thought I’d gone nuts.  As usual.  I was a bit of a tearaway when I was a kid.”

   “And of course you’re an old maid now.”

   “Ha ha, very funny. When I told my friends that I was off to find my Father they thought I’d caught a mouthful of coolant gas.  But I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”  She paused.  “Now I’ve found him all I’ve got to do is convince him it’s the truth. That’s going to be the difficult part.” 

Terrie finished her rummaging and seated herself on the arm of Paige’s chair.

   “Look, I know this is none of my business and if I’m out of line then just tell me so, but what makes you think he’ll ever believe you?  If Jan Lomona decides that he’s not got a daughter then I can’t see what’s going to change his mind.”  She stood to make them both a drink from the small kitchen area.  “He can be quite stubborn when he wants to.”

   “Do you know Jan well? Sounds as if you’ve known him for a while.” 

Terrie nodded.

   “I’ve known of him for a while but I’d never met him before today.” 

Paige sat up straight in her chair, once again alert and attentive.

   “Tell me what you know about him.  This is the sort of stuff I’ll need if I’m going to get through to him.” 

Terrie winced inside.  Now wasn’t the best time to begin divulging information.  To anyone, not even a kid she was beginning to like.

   “Well…the stuff I’ve got on him probably isn’t going to be of much use to you.  It’s all reports and evaluations and documented stuff.” 

Paige frowned.

   “What are you, some sort of spy?  Sounds as if you keep files on everyone.”

   “Maybe I do.  Maybe I’ve even got one on you somewhere.”  She replied with a grin on her face.  The young A-desandian gritted her teeth.

  “I’m sick of this.” Paige muttered under her breath.  Terrie frowned as she began to turn away.

   “Sick of what?” 

Paige closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.

   “Sick of being stalled all the time, everywhere I go.  I’ve had this for two years, ever since I left to find my Father.”  Paige turned towards the window.  “I thought you’d be different.” 

Terrie half-smiled and softened her tone.

   “Look Paige, this is delicate information about one of my employers operatives. I’m not supposed to discuss this with anyone - “

   “ - But I’m his daughter!”  Paige intercepted with a fierce yell.  Terrie shook her head, her eyes closed.

   “Just because I happen to think you’re his daughter doesn’t make it the truth.  We need proof - everyone does.”

   “I really thought you were different.”  growled Paige, as she turned to look fully out of the window to the grimy tunnel below.  Terrie crossed her arms.  She thought she’d connected with the A-desandian teenager in some way, that their recent shared experiences and close escapes had formed some kind of bond. She knew that in her line of work she rarely got the chance to be with someone long enough to form any kind of relationship at all.  Fieldwork meant long days, weeks, months in isolation.  No one to back you up, perhaps a section Commander to report to.  It could be a solitary and lonely occupation.  And rewarding. But not today. Ignoring the drinks she addressed the young girl.

   “You want answers?”

   “Yes I do.”  Paige stared rigidly at the older woman before her. 

Terrie chewed her lip slowly and thoughtfully.  This is a bad idea.  What should I say? Do I tell her the things she really needs to know about her father? How else do I say it?

   “You want the truth?”

   “Quit stalling and give me some answers!”  Paige’s frustration exploded and flew out of the chair, her pent up aggression launching itself at Terrie.  She easily evaded the move and firmly but carefully swung her back towards the bed in the centre of the room.  Rolling onto her stomach Paige breathed deeply and flicked back her hair.  This was doing neither of them any good.

   “We’ll pretend that didn’t happen.  But don’t try anything like that again.”  Terrie’s tone was laced with hidden menace and Paige was smart enough to read the message.

   “I’m sorry, but I’ve been searching for two years.  Two years!  To be so close and then to lose him again…. Please…tell me what I need to know.” 

Damn this mission all to hell, thought Terrie.  I’m here to watch over a vital trade mission, not be a social worker.  Easing herself into the chair opposite, she began.

It was dark and the air was heavy and it felt like it should be raining.  Jan had been happier stranded in the badlands of Vorathie; at least that bad day had an end in sight.  He was beginning to feel as if the `city that never sleeps’ was turning him into the `smuggler that never slept’.  Frans was edgy beside him; he could always tell when she was uncomfortable.  And this made him uneasy - she was one of the most unflappable people he knew.  If things didn’t take a turn for the better soon he might take up Glann’s offer and not go near a civilised system ever again.  It was becoming an appealing thought.  Jan and Frans had followed the mysterious man from the plaza to here, and had been left at the door.  Jan wasn’t happy at all.  The door had opened by itself and inside it was black.  Pitch black.

   “Captain Lomona, Miss Latka, please.  Have a seat.” 

Hazy concealed lights activated in the ceiling above and they both turned to see two chairs before them and three indistinct figures seated ten meters away.  Jan eyed them warily and took his seat, Frans doing the same.  None of the figures spoke and the silence was palpable.  Frans couldn’t stand it any longer.

   “Why have you asked us here?  What’s the deal?” 

No reply.  Maybe the group was mute, or sexist, or didn’t want to speak with Frans or was captivated by her devastating beauty.  Whatever, the questions went by unanswered.  Another minute passed.  This is crud, thought Jan.  What’s the real deal here?  The only reason I came into such a dangerous situation was the things that guy we spoke to on Level 12 said really rang true.  Have I been that gullible?  Could I be losing my touch?

   “This is ridiculous.  Start talking or we’re out of here.”  Jan spoke hard and clear, no mistaking his annoyed tones. 

One of the group stood and moved away from its chair.

   “Captain, in the past few hours we have come into possession of a most interesting package of information.  So interesting in fact we can hardly believe we have acquired it.” 

This had to be it, thought Jan.  The disk Terrie was talking about.  Time to find out what they know, how far down the road they are to uncovering the truth about our mission to Abrogard. 

   “Our men are at this moment in the process of decoding the information.  But one thing seems clear.  This package has been…. acquired from the Fortress of Glann Cipple, an employer of yours I believe?” 

It was directed as a question, so Jan nodded.

   “I’ve worked for Glann before. What of it?” 

The dark shrouded figure didn’t answer, choosing instead to light up some kind of cigar.  Pausing to inhale the smoke the figure continued.  This was too weird.  No Imperial agent would go to all the clandestine lengths of setting up a meeting like this, so it must surely be some rival gang.  Jan had plenty of experience dealing with them, but this whole situation felt like uncharted territory.  He was operating on a hunch, a gut feeling.  And after the Brevnian eggs back on Amagad he wasn’t so sure if his gut could be trusted.

   “This information. Would you be able to confirm its authenticity?  For a price?” 

Jan frowned and glanced at Frans who was eyeing him cautiously.  This can’t be right.  Why ask a question like that if you already own the disk? This must mean that the information has been sold out on the open market, contradicting Grabby’s summation.  And quickly too.  So there was a chance that this group had missed out on the bid and are just trying to wheedle some information out of us to make some short term gains.  Or else they really do own the disk and are having trouble decoding it, just like the man said.  Too little information to go on here.  But one thing was for sure - Jan wasn’t sticking around to find out how they intended to learn more from him.

   “I suggest you go to Level 15, Northside.  Ziggy Teflon’s Herb and Spice Shop.  He’s the best information broker I know.  If he doesn’t know it then it probably hasn’t happened.”  He took Frans’ arm firmly in his and began making his exit towards the illuminated doorway, which was glowing dimly in the gloom.

   “Where are you going Captain?  We haven’t concluded our meeting yet.”

That voice?  It couldn’t be…?  Jan was certain he recognised it, but that wasn’t unusual. In his line of work he met dozens of people every day.  Jan paused near the exit.      

   “I think me and my partner have taken up enough of your time.”

   “On the contrary.  I insist you stay a while longer.  We have much to discuss.” 

Jan sighed inwardly.  How come I knew this was going to happen?  Why do I walk headlong into these situations?

And why does Frans have to walk into them with me?

   “Game over pal.  We’re leaving.  If you have a problem with that then take it up with Glann.  I’m sure he’d love to hear your grievances.” 

The third person stood, and immediately Jan and Frans could tell that this was no human.  It was a female Whiphid, her massive bulk and huge tusks marking her from the male of the species.  Her breathing was loud and distinct and Jan wondered why he hadn’t marked it out before.  She was quite obviously agitated.

   “You will stay where you are if you know what’s good for you.  Move, and I will eat your heart for lunch and feast on your female for desert.”

   “Feast on this you hairy bitch!” screamed Frans suddenly, whipping out her blaster and spraying six rapid shots down the room.  The three figures spun and disappeared into the gloom with haste.  Surprised, and a little shocked, Jan wrestled her to the ground as six hidden henchmen appeared from out of nowhere and returned fire.

   “What the hell are you doing?!” rasped Jan as they crawled for cover behind a pillar.  In the laser illuminated light he could see clearly now - they were in a Landspeeder lot.  Frans threw him a wicked glare and blasted back shots.

   “I was getting bored, and that Whiphid was out of line.”

   “We’re on Chancai so Boba can give us the next lot of information, not to start the next gang war!” 

She wasn’t listening and with a groan he joined her in the barrage. 

   “Lady, you are impossible.” 

Frans laughed.

   “You wouldn’t have it any other way, remember?”

The return fire had reduced and Jan could already see two of the six gunmen lying dead or incapacitated on the floor.  Two of the others were taking cover behind an old XP-36 and one more was just in sight at the end of the lot.  The other was nowhere to be seen.

   “They must have sent him off for reinforcements,” shouted Frans above the echoing din of the firefight.

   “Who?”  Queried Jan. 

Frans pointed with the nozzle of her blaster.

   “Him!”  She cried as her laser thumped into the side of the running man and sent him barrelling into the concrete wall, knocking him unconscious. 

Jan smiled.

   “If I wasn’t so annoyed I’d be impressed.” 

Frans knotted her eyebrows in false consternation, wiping the sweat from her forehead with her arm.

   “If that didn’t impress you nothing ever will.”  She stood and helped him up from behind the pillar.  The three remaining gunmen, not fancying their chances, remained hidden.  “Let’s go.  There’s bound to be Stormtroopers here any minute.” 

Lomona nodded and let his fiancée lead the way.

He’d always found it to be the most comfortable of the ramps he rested upon during his journeys around the cosmos.  In all the starports in all the worlds, he liked to sit on this one.  It had been a constant friend to his rump over the years and he never knew when, if ever, he would rest his behind on it again.  And yet with alarming regularity Grin did.  Nobody knew Grins real name.  In fact it had been so long since he’d used it he’d pretty much forgotten it himself.  Better for everyone to know you by one name than to curse you with many, that’s what his Mother always said.  It was true he supposed but he’d never thought about it too deeply.  Everyone cursed him in various languages, but they all called him Grin, whatever language they conversed.

Today he found himself sitting on the ramp of the Berone Sunrise, carefully avoiding the gravitic mantraps Jan Lomona had installed there years before.  Grin was familiar with Jan’s habit of getting his droid to lower the ramp when he wasn’t around just to entice any passing ship thieves who fancied a shot at a Stock Heavy Freighter.  More than one thief had come to grief in the mantraps, which exerted the pressure of four gravity's.  Word spread that it was a starship not worth the risk of stealing, and Grin enjoyed the prestige of sitting on its ramp.  He waited, eating away at a Jumpage fruit he’d stolen from a market trader on Level 15.  His contact would be here any minute now and when he arrived Grin hoped he would sub him some cash.  He hadn’t eaten a decent meal for three days and all this travelling was tiring him out.  He wasn’t as young as he used to be and the chance of a hot meal and shower appealed to him greatly – his scales were sore from the grime.  It would ruin his reputation as a carefree vagrant rogue, but these things had to be sacrificed every now and then.  Just for the length of time it took to have a shower.  His contact approached from across the docking bay.

   “Grin, you’re here.”  Boba Dallagra almost sounded relieved to see him.  Things really must be serious. 

Grin nodded, spat out a Jumpage pip and squinted at him.

   “Course I’m here, where else would I be?  Nothing else happening on this dirtball right now.  Is there?” 

Boba concealed an uneasy grin and sat next to Grin on the ramp.  True to form, Grin stank like a Banthas rear armpit and looked like he’d been camping in there.  He was dressed in no more than rags, wrapped around his arms and legs in swathes.  To a Tusken Raider he would have been the height of sartorial elegance.

   “You tell me.   Where have you come in from?” 

The two of them always danced around the subject like this, in case anyone was listening in.  As Boba had pointed out no inanimate location had as many ears as Chancai, so why risk revealing information?

   “The usual place,”

Amagad deduced Boba.

   “Hopped in with a couple of mechanics on their way to Luronsa.” 

That was code. Glann had him sent here directly from Amagads starport.  This must be serious stuff.  Grin certainly was here to swap information with Boba.  For Glann not to have him contacted by sub-space, or send a hypersignal, or even a letter-search must mean that the Fortresses security measures had been seriously compromised.  Or Glann wanted it to appear that way.

   “Anything interesting happening back at the old Zythlies?” 

Every port had one but none was more notorious than the Amagad branch.  The original and the best. 

Grin nodded.

   “Plenty.  But we can’t talk now; we have a meal to discuss.  Let’s go to the nearest bar and grab a bite to eat.” 

It wasn’t a request it was a demand and Boba complied immediately, getting to his feet and following Grin out of the bay and down the corridor, past the sleeping Portmaster to a local cantina. 

Even by starport standards this one was a dive, and right away Grin could see that it would suit his purposes to the ground.  Taking the most central available table he seated himself and waited for Boba to return with their drinks and bar snacks.

   “This you will not believe.”  He began. 

Boba leaned in close, ready to take in whatever doubtless secretive information Grin was about to deliver but the scruffy ramp-hopper leaned back and continued talking, making it clear that this was for more than just the ears of his bemused colleague.                                 “I’ve been on Amagad for a while by this time, and it’s been a real miserable couple of days.  Rain, wind, no sun at all.  Anyway, me and Ploothins,”

Who? Thought Boba.

   “We’re sitting in the Yapya when this big noise comes strolling through the door, happy as can be and offering to buy everyone a drink.  Naturally we all accept this generous offer and after a short while we’re as drunk as Hutts.” 

Out of the corner of Boba’s eye he could make out the interested glances of more than a few patrons of the cantina.  Whatever Grins plan was it was working well.  All that covert talk on the Sunrises ramp must have lured them from kilometres around.

   “Anyway, it don’t take long before his tongue is loosened by the Flameouts he’s buying and I ask him what’s the story?  Why’s he dishing out booze like it’s the next prohibition?  He tells me the biggest made-up story I think I’ve ever heard.” 

Boba shook his head in wonder, wise enough to buy into the ruse Grin was playing but unsure as to what information he was going to impart.  And which part of it was the truth.      

   “What did he say?”

   “Well, he said that he was part of a team that had entered Glann Cipples Fortress in Amagad City and stolen some top secret information from one of his data banks!  Can you believe that?  I mean, you’d have to be drunk as a slug just to make it up!” 

Grin burst out laughing, his lipless alien mouth quivering in mirth. To cover his amazement at this public airing of what was until recently priority one, code red, top-secret knowledge, Boba laughed out loud too.  Had Grin gone crazy?  If he didn’t have clearance to release this information to the public then he was as good as a dead man.  And that wasn’t any good at all.

   “Did you believe him?  Or was it just the alcohol talking?” 

Grin waved him away.

   “Come on pal, what do you think?  Anyone foolish enough to mess with Cipple is a dead man, no question.  There’s no disk with secret information out there.  It’s just some crazy drunk with a big imagination.” 

Grin frowned at the large shadow that was looming over his table, and gulped at the hulking Aqualish it belonged to.  Its companion, a testy looking humanoid with a dark complexion placed his hands on the table and eyed the two up slowly.

   “You should think carefully before discussing such topics in public.  It may lead to unfortunate...repercussions.” 

Grin smiled weakly and tipped his hat to the man and his quivering companion who was obviously aching for a confrontation.

   “My apologies gentlebeings, my mouth sometimes tends to run away with me.  I should discuss these matters somewhere more private.  My apologies for intruding on your time.” 

Either his forced formality or his mock expression of apology did it, but one of the two set the Aqualish off and it cleared the table of its contents with a swing of its massive arm.  Boba and Grin both leaned back swiftly to avoid being concussed and stood from their seats.

   “Now look,” began Boba warily. “We don’t want any trouble here.” 

The human motioned to his towering companion and shook his shoulders.

   “Too late.  You already found it.” 

The Aqualish advanced on the pair, and Grin wished desperately that he’d been sent somewhere, anywhere rather than a grubby run down tapcafe on the rough side of Chancai.  And then suddenly he wished he’d done this sort of thing rather more often in the past as Jan and Frans went flying past the open door, looked in at the scene developing and entered the room with their blaster’s drawn and ready for action.  Neither the man nor the alien saw them enter, and therefore didn’t know the identity of the people responsible for their sudden and swift departure to the realms of unconsciousness.  No one else in the cantina made a move or a sound as the foursome exited the premises and made the short run to the Berone Sunrise.  Jan looked from Boba to Grin and back again before opening the starship and disabling her defence systems.

   “I won’t bother asking what happened in there, it looked like a disaster area.” 

Grin turned to Boba who was still ashen with fright and grinned his widest lipless grin.

   “Are you kidding?  Things couldn’t have gone better if I’d tried.”