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The
Meeting 2002
short story by Louis Turfrey, Paul Squire and Mark Newbold Thirty-seven
years after Episode IV – A New
Hope My name is Critchek Skumul. I am on special assignment for Galactic Alliance Intelligence. My target is Jan Lomona, owner of a large haulage operation called the Trac-Tran Transit Company: a collection of regular freight captains and contracted Free Traders running throughout the Setnin Sector and beyond. Setnin isn’t the only place where Free Trader is synonymous with smuggler, and though no records reside in Coruscant to incriminate this particularly successful A-desandian entrepreneur, rumours have always abounded about this particular man and his starship, the Berone Sunrise. What piques my professional interest in Lomona is his dossier, especially the pre-New Republic records. They’re conspicuous by their lack of detail, especially the years the Empire’s Imperial Intelligence and ISB were active in Setnin. Neither organisation was known for skimping on detail, and I can only guess at the connections this man had, or has, with influential people to make his name disappear so efficiently from records. Does someone in the Galactic Alliance owe this man something for past deeds, or was he closer to the Empire? Given my assignment, I’m not sure which scenario I like least, but I put these thoughts aside for another time. For now, I’m here to watch. And assess. I sit less than three tables away from Lomona as he lunches with his daughter, Paige Centaur. He seems relaxed, as does she, but it’s all an act. I’m sure what I’ve pieced together so far only scratches the surface, but I’d bet my badge that they’re involved in a scam to launder an obscene amount of money. These two have nerves as cool as ice, and I remind myself again of the unsubstantiated stories that surrounded like-minded people, like Cipple, Dressel, Mister Spyte and the other once all-powerful Setnin crime lords and their henchmen. It’s a story as wicked and corrupt as any I’ve heard about the Hutts. Among the many questions that remain are; how much money are these two planning to launder, for whom, and from where? I order myself another
cup of hot chav, and watch them through the steam of my newly arrived
drink. I can’t make out their words,
I’m too far away and the crowd in Zythlies is starting to fill out, in both
the bar and restaurant. This close to the Borden Space Lane, even though only
newly reopened for business, the Garyra Station is a popular stopover for
spacers in this war torn sector. Still, with my telepathic
talent I can just about pick up their emotions, though the proximity of so
many beings dilutes the feelings.
They are both apprehensive, and yet excited, especially Paige Centaur.
Maybe she isn’t as
hardened to the underworld as her father, but then I’m always too quick to
make excuses for women. It’s one of
my failings, ever since Tahlyina, and I loose my thoughts in her beautiful
memory just for a moment. It’s a moment too long
and as I refocus, all I see is Jan Lomona sitting alone. I chide myself, and I’m left with a dilemma. Do I leave and follow the daughter, or stay watching the father? I could miss something vital, but with who…? Lomona’s eyes sweep the restaurant, and I blur my vision, focusing on my half empty cup of chav. If I think myself small, I’ll look less conspicuous. It’s a skill taught in the basic espionage classes at NRI, and I blend into the crowd. I don’t pick anything suspicious up from the A-desandian, but that is no guarantee that he hasn’t clocked me, so I count slowly to two hundred, finish my drink, and head out of Zythlies, check that I’m not being followed, and head back to my ship. If the resources of the Galactic Alliance weren’t so stretched, they’d be a whole NRI team here backing me up. We’d have technical experts, scanning for bugs and traces and planting plenty of our own. Several agents would be around the target at all times, blending into the crowd and playing invisible tag with each other, ensuring that the team as a whole always had two eyes squarely fixed on the target and everyone that came into contact with him. Analysts would be running continue checks on our databases, matching history and profiles. I’d also have a full team of Special Forces available in case things turned nasty. When running an Op against gangsters, it’s my opinion that you can never have too much firepower to back you up. However, this was just me, and it was about time I filed my report and let my superiors know I was still alive. It was just as well that I did, considering who I saw from my ship’s cockpit. Terrie Saffra was a very attractive woman. Dark haired, chocolate brown eyes and a seriously trim figure, she was a hard woman to miss. She was also the commander of Squadron Indigo, the Setnin Sector’s crack Galactic Alliance X-Wing fighter squadron, and she was walking away from the half-finished space yacht, the Pleasure Seeker, the de-facto HQ of the Iron Claw mercenary organisation on this station. Was this an innocent coincidence? Instinct told me otherwise, and my fears were confirmed as I followed her back into Zythlies and to the table of Jan Lomona. The thought that Lomona’s nefarious schemes seemed to involve one of theGalactic Alliance’s crack fighter squadrons…? My stomach started to churn. I wouldn’t have thought that an officer in such an honoured position as Saffra would have even entertained the idea of associating with someone like Lomona, but then I picked up her feelings. They were so strong it was easy to read, and see, how she was being manipulated. Love is a terrible force, and the cruellest, most devastating weapon if used skilfully. Obviously Lomona included such skilful manipulation amongst his talents, and my lips curled up in revulsion at his lack of morals. It was no surprise that my superiors had assigned me to this case, and the hairs at the back of my neck started to rise as I realised exactly how important and dangerous an assignment this was. Then Lomona’s daughter Paige returned, this time with her husband in toe, and the pieces started to fall into place. Ryath Centaur is an anomaly to me. An ex-Imperial colonel, who chose to defect and start a personal vendetta of revenge, his life has been coloured by his warped sense of justice. Although in his sixties he still looked a healthy, active man, yet his long-standing friend Lomona looked better preserved. But then A-desandians are one of the longer-lived human species. They have a natural resistance to alcohol, which reduces with age, so if you see a drunken A-desandian he will likely be older than eighty standard galactic years. But I’m troubled by this meeting. There sit potentially four of the most influential characters in the sector. Perhaps they’re simply friends and family, catching up on old times, but my instincts and training won’t allow me to throw such an optimistic bent on the occasion. No, something’s afoot, and my superiors placed me in the position of discovering just what that is. And I will. I need to evaluate the situation. Centaur is an Iron Claw, leader of the largest of many mercenary forces working in Setnin right now, profiting from pain and misery. His wife is Paige Centaur, who my files tell me had a large part in Iron Claw business and also ran the Trac-Tran Transit Company in her fathers’ absence, her father being Jan Lomona, legendary smuggler who is also Ryath Centaurs father-in-law. I also know that Paige and Commander Saffra are friends of many years standing, but how these two came to be so close my records don’t tell me. And the connection between Lomona and Saffra? I could think it was nothing more than callous manipulation on Lomona’s part. He’s a skilled romantic, and has a reputation for being a lothario. I wouldn’t doubt that he could charm almost any woman to do what he wanted. No, this situation calls for closer scrutiny. I need to watch their activities for longer, get a full dossier back to my superiors so they can assess and make preparations. Whatever the plan is, I don’t like seeing Commander Saffra associate herself with such…lowlifes. They all rise and walk towards the exit. I finish my chav, giving them a few seconds to get ahead of me, and rise from my chair. My training screams at me to follow covertly, but I may have been spotted. Before my days in the Galactic Alliance, before the New Republic, I was a noted investigator, and it’s not beyond reason that I might be recognised. Besides, I know where they are heading and I’m in no rush to follow them, although duty compels me to. The docking bay where the Berone Sunrise sits seems smaller when occupied by the bulk of the specialist stock heavy freighter. It has room for two other craft, one of which is my small scout cruiser. I manage to arrive at the bay before Lomona and his group, boarding my ship before they enter the landing area, my ramp closing against the cool air of the Garyra Station. I’m no great fan of this station, it’s far too heavily populated by underworld types for my liking, but it’s a vital location in Galactic Alliance spy operations and so I must swallow my prejudices and get on with the job. My clearance to leave is pre-arranged, and resting on my repulsors I boost the engines and carefully steer through the gap in the shield. My scanners monitor the docking bay as I track up and away from the station, slipping into an orbit. The Berone Sunrise follows two minutes later and boosts away at maximum burn. I prime the engines of my scout cruiser and set my systems to track the probable location of their jump point, using a number of the many covert Galactic Alliance beacons and tracking devices that have been laid throughout the Setnin Sector during this seven year conflict and the unobtrusive tracking beacon I had carefully secreted on the hull a few short hours before, dodging Lomona’s old droid in the process. As reticent as the Galactic Alliance has been in getting directly involved, people like myself have been kept more than busy, monitoring the activities of both the Setnin forces and the Ki-Ki. Our hands are clean, our conscience clear, but even I wonder when we are going to choose a side and end this madness. The Sunrise disappears into hyperspace and I sit and wait, lost in my thoughts. Thirteen hours later I find myself in the Yuma System, sitting at the very edge of sensor range watching a wing of SJ Type X-Wings of Setnin specification dock and board what I believed to be a Trac-Tran Transit Company Bulk Freighter. My running lights are dimmed, my engines long cold, but I had followed the Berone Sunrise carefully through a handful of jumps, the tracking beacon I had attached finally burned out upon this, the final entry. I had to shake my head in disbelief. What I saw was beyond comprehension. Squadron Indigo, heroes of the Rebellion and the Republic, joining forces with the scum of the underworld. Betraying everything they vowed to stand for. What could have possibly possessed them? I calmed myself, trying to probe their thoughts for clues, but from this distance I can sense little. But what I could sense was only good. Honourable. A group of people proudly trying to free themselves from evil. I frowned as I eased out of my telepathic probing. There has to be more to this than mere mutiny, but what? The pieces didn’t fit, and I cursed Galactic Alliance Intelligence for leaving me so exposed and uninformed. Saffras feelings for Lomona were real, and his in return were also true. I felt no deceit on Centaurs part when discussing the details with his wife or his father-in-law. So what was the true story? I leaned down to pat my dog Spacer on the head, and with his eyes that held such intelligence he looked right back at me. “What should I do boy? Contact headquarters or keep tracking?” To be honest, I would have done whatever my faithful mutt told me to, but luckily I saw sanity and sense first. This required investigating, and I’m nothing if not a first-class investigator. It’s time I returned to my roots. The
Meeting 2002
short story by Louis Turfrey, Paul Squire and Mark Newbold Thirty-seven
years after Episode IV – A New Hope Histories – The first appearance in the
New Underworld Age of Critchek Skumul,
investigator working for the Galactic Alliance. Eager to carry out his mission and follow Jan
Lomona and his cohorts, even Skumul is unsure as to why the Galactic
Alliance is loathe to get involved in the conflict. Able and efficient, Skumul follows his mission orders, but ends
up with more questions than answers. Cast of Characters Critchek
Skumul Jan Lomona Terrie
Saffra Paige
Centaur Ryath
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