The air in the bazaar clung like disease to the skin and stank about as bad. Culurien stepped inside, sheathing her saber and letting her eyes adjust to the gloom as Garellan caught up, hooded eyes searching. The acrid smoke of burning droid parts from the last attack followed them inside, turning a few heads. Clusters of mercs stood in corners, scruffy gunmen and a few spice junkies. Most either kept their heads down or eyed them with malevolence.
Back alley arms dealers were rough places at the best of times. On Nar Shaddaa in the Nikto sector… well, there were no ‘best of times.’ By the resistance thrown at them thus far, the gangsters had already made their statement. But, to her eye, the resistance was little more than tacit, as if testing their strengths and weaknesses. That was what worried her.
She stepped up to the Devaronian arms dealer as he stubbed out his cigar, glowering at them behind a veil of smoke. He was putting on a bold face, but she could sense his nervousness.
“Whatdoya’ want,” he said in broken basic, spitting to the side.
Before she could speak, Garellan preempted her, giving the man a hard and level gaze. To her surprise, he spoke in Huttese. “This is a Jedi Master. You will show her respect.” It was stated as matter of fact, not a threat… but it likely would be taken for one. She glanced at him sidelong.
The man grimaced and spat the word ‘Jedi’ like a curse. “We don’t serve your kind here,” he continued in his broken basic, ignoring Garellan and staring at her. “Get out, before this gets ugly.”
Culurien stared back unruffled. She could see the uncertainty on his face. He must know what they were after. “The datapad, if you please, Garellan.”
Garellan slid a battered datapad across the counter to him. The Devaronian’s eyes went wide, throwing out a volley of Huttese curses, ending with, “Where the great hutt mother did you get that?”
Culurien gave him a pointed look. “We found it on one of [i]your[/i] enforcers, I believe.”
Garellan smirked. “After being attacked by a large group of them… I’m sorry to say you might want to start hiring again.”
Culurien sighed inwardly at the bravado, but nodded, giving no outward sign of her thoughts. “That kind of thing will not work with us. Do you want to tell us what this is about?”
A dark look entered the dealer’s eye and he glances rapidly at a few of the mercs eyeing them from the doors. Some of them had begun to slip out, she noted. He hesitated, the smoke swirling around his horns lazily.
He spat to the side again. “Fine,” he said, plucking something out of his vest pocket. “I ain’t dyin’ for nobody.” He slid something small across the counter. A datachip. She picked it up silently and put it in one of her many pockets. “Go to those coordinates. Heard the guy yer after… he hangs out there, ya know? That’s all I got.”
Garellan gave him a steely glare. “I hope you’re not lying… friend. The Jedi have many techniques to break one’s mind…” Culurien glanced at him side-long again, feeling a stab of worry. That was something she’d definitely not hear from him. The arms dealer raised his hands, as if to ward them off.
“Hey, why would I do that? I’m not stupid. Now, will you please, [i]leave[/i]?” He leaned closer, eyes darting furtively. “Yer scarin’ the customers.” Indeed, she could feel the tension. Many had already left.
She bowed shortly. “Thank you for your time, sir.” Turning carefully, she walked out. Garellan followed more reluctantly, but he did follow. The guards lounging by the door gave them pointedly angry glares, fingering their modified holdouts.
Once outside, she led them back onto the main thoroughfare, keeping their distance from the pockets of gang members that loitered at intervals. They walked a few blocks in silence. Finally, Culurien judged it safe to speak.
“Garellan, that last threat was not truly necessary.”
He glanced up at her and looked away. “I’m sorry, master.”
Images of how some Jedi had abused mind powers flashed through her mind. Many of them had fallen to the dark side. She grimaced as she let them wash over her and recede into the dim recesses of her mind.
“I hope you never have to use such techniques.”
“As do I, master,” he said quickly. She sighed, letting the matter go. Feeling out with the force, as was her wont, she could tell they were being followed, watched. But unlike earlier, the gangsters were no longer attacking.
“I suspect we’ve not seen the last of his enforcers,” she mused.
Garellan looked up, seemingly surprised. “But there was truth in his words.”
“Aye… but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to stop us… or warn others who will.”
She squinted against the gloom. She was careful to keep them in open places as much as possible, as they made their way to the coordinates. More than once, she wished she had brought a Legionnaire or two as backup. She hadn’t expected quite this level of resistance, and it was looking very likely that this tip was a trap. It wasn’t for her safety she feared, but that of her new padawan. It wouldn’t do to get him killed on his first mission.
***
The coordinates led to an abandoned warehouse near the edge of the sector. She had been right about the trap.
The place was swarming with mercs. And not just any – these were professionals. She shield Garellan as much as she could, letting instinct take over, steeped in the Force. It didn’t take long for the mercs to discern their presence. She didn’t see the use of stealth in a place this guarded. They knew they were coming. Misdirection was easier. They finished off the guards and feinted right while going left, deeper along the edge of the structure.
The place buzzed like a hive as the mercs tried to figure out where they were – groups of three and four patrolled, eyes searching, angry shouts occasionally echoing off the walls. As they peered around a group of crates, another group came into view.
She nodded to Garellan and pointed, using hand signals. He’d picked up the shorthand she used in combat quickly. They leaped over the barricade and charged, Garellan managing to lift one of bounty hunters into the air, while Culurien slammed two into the far wall hard with a full bodied disturbance wave. They fell to ground senseless, their partner sailing clear across the room hitting and collapsing a shelf of droid parts, creating more chaos. By then, Garellan had knocked out the last opponent and they melted into the shadows, the angry shouts growing in intensity.
That had only worked because they’d had the element of surprise. They were running out of time. She noted as a few more mercs slipped in with pit beasts. It was almost impossible to hide from those. Besides that, the mercs were focus firing Garellan. They knew he was her padawan. She frowned, feeling a surge of disgust. No, time was not on their side.
Making their way in a zig zag pattern, they managed to rifle through a locked desk drawer in one of the tables, finding several old datapads and datachips, which they split between them. No telling yet how useful they would be. There was one last likely place… she could see it in her mind. The Force was guiding them.
The guard increased, Culurien taking down several barking, slobbering pit beast trackers. Finally, they reached the back part of the lair where several crates were piled high. To her surprise, the opposition seemed to be evaporating. She glanced around the metallic room, feeling uneasy. What were they after, if not to stop them?
“Master!” Garellan yelled, jumping in front of her. Two pit beasts leapt from the shadows toward her, their eyes glowering orange, jaws dripping and snapping. They had been so silent, she hadn’t noticed them. Garellan threw them backward a step with a wave of force energy, and her blade took one in the chest. To her horror, the other fastened on his arm. Another slice, and it was dead.
Garellan was breathing heavily. All this fighting was taking its toll on him.
“You all right?”
She looked him over with a critical eye. His arm was mangled, blood seeping onto the floor. A stab of pain filled her. He shouldn’t have jumped in front of her. She could have dealt with the beasts with ease… but she couldn’t rightly condemn the instinct. It might save someone else’s life someday. She sighed and took his arm in her hands, closing her eyes and focusing.
“Don’t worry about me master,” he said. He sounded tired. She ignored him, allowing the Force to fill her, channeling healing into the torn flesh and muscles. She felt the blood loss slowing, and she wrapped the injury in a sheath of energy to keep the wound clean. To her relief, she could detect no poison. Sometimes, mercs would modify the fangs of these creatures to inject it.
She opened her eyes. “That should hold it until we can get you to a med center.” She glanced around, thankful that no leftover mercs had taken the time to attack. The place was beginning to have an abandoned feel. Had they given up so easily?
“See what you can find,” she said.
She was examining a stack of scrap metal in a corner, when Garellan gave a shout. “Over here, Master! I found… an empty credit box, it looks like.” She walked over and examined it, taking it in gloved hands. The markings on the outside were unfamiliar to her. It was definitely custom made. Garellan bent down beside her, pointing out parts of it that stood out to him.
Touching her forehead a moment, she made a call through her earpiece to the Legion’s encrypted channel. Six answered. She smiled inwardly. Perfect.
She stood up and they began to make their way out, using a back door exit, and Culurien explained the situation in short.
“I need you to run some tests – DNA analysis, perhaps trace the manufacturer. I’ll meet you back at ‘port.”
“Right,” she said. “DNA analysis is easy. Finding a match… not so much.”
“We’ll see,” she said.
***
In short order, Culurien whisked them out of that district and onto a taxi back to the spaceport. Garellan looked exhausted. And well he might. Her own first mission with Master Veed hadn’t involved nearly that much exertion.
“I’ve never drawn so heavily on the Force before,” he had said as they were fighting. She eyed his arm again, feeling relieved that it looked no worse. It had been good practice in focus. Nar Shaddaa was a trying place to find calm. His technique was improving.
Her mind went back over the mission. Questioning the assassin’s contacts had drawn more heat than she’d anticipated. Point. They had managed to find a credit box possibly linked to him, and a few datapads and datachips. They’d also managed to free a slave chef in the process. All told, not a bad run. She only hoped the data would prove useful.
She was taken from her reverie by an exclamation, and glanced at Garellan, whose eyes were dancing with excitement. “We were close, Master. The mercs were trying to delay us, while someone else escaped. That’s why they melted away.”
She pondered this possibility. “Perhaps.”
“I’m almost certain,” he said.
They stepped out at the ‘port, and Culurien handed off the credit box to Six in the cantina. She took it in gloved hands, stashing it away in a plastic evidence bag. After a short conversation, she disappeared into the smoky haze.
Culurien quirked a smile. She always felt sad around Six. She hoped that someday, her spirit could be mended. She sensed much pain from her. But then, it was not terribly unusual to find in this line of work.
She looked over to Garellan and smiled as she watched him regal their trip and fight with the merc’s tracker beasts to Lt. D’lar. He was leaning against the bar, eyebrows raising ever higher. Garellan held up his arm for emphasis. It was still dripping blood, if slowly. Seeing it brought her back to the moment and she walked over, nodding solemnly.
“Aye, one of the beasts decided he was tasty and thought it good to take a bite out of him.”
Garellan gave her a puzzled frown. “I’m pretty sure taste had nothing to do with it, Master.” She smiled.
“It’s lucky you two came out ok,” Martin said, giving her a look.
She sighed. “… I may have underestimated the resistance. I’ll be sure to put in call to the Legion next time we try this again.” She smiled at him and Martin nodded curtly, as if that was the only sensible thing to do.
“Happy to assist, Master A’jelor. Anythin’ that involves the assassin…”
She turned to Garellan and asked him firmly to go to the med center. He could catch up with D’lar another time. Eying the lieutenant, she asked if he would perhaps accompany him, and he agreed, picking up his helmet off the counter. They chatted amicably as they left, finally disappearing around the bend, trailing a haze of smoke. The cantina always seemed to be hazy.
She smiled. Garellan would make a fine knight someday. In a few minutes, she left the cantina herself, making her way back to the ship and began pouring over the datapads and datachips. If they could just find a proper lead on this guy…
Back alley arms dealers were rough places at the best of times. On Nar Shaddaa in the Nikto sector… well, there were no ‘best of times.’ By the resistance thrown at them thus far, the gangsters had already made their statement. But, to her eye, the resistance was little more than tacit, as if testing their strengths and weaknesses. That was what worried her.
She stepped up to the Devaronian arms dealer as he stubbed out his cigar, glowering at them behind a veil of smoke. He was putting on a bold face, but she could sense his nervousness.
“Whatdoya’ want,” he said in broken basic, spitting to the side.
Before she could speak, Garellan preempted her, giving the man a hard and level gaze. To her surprise, he spoke in Huttese. “This is a Jedi Master. You will show her respect.” It was stated as matter of fact, not a threat… but it likely would be taken for one. She glanced at him sidelong.
The man grimaced and spat the word ‘Jedi’ like a curse. “We don’t serve your kind here,” he continued in his broken basic, ignoring Garellan and staring at her. “Get out, before this gets ugly.”
Culurien stared back unruffled. She could see the uncertainty on his face. He must know what they were after. “The datapad, if you please, Garellan.”
Garellan slid a battered datapad across the counter to him. The Devaronian’s eyes went wide, throwing out a volley of Huttese curses, ending with, “Where the great hutt mother did you get that?”
Culurien gave him a pointed look. “We found it on one of [i]your[/i] enforcers, I believe.”
Garellan smirked. “After being attacked by a large group of them… I’m sorry to say you might want to start hiring again.”
Culurien sighed inwardly at the bravado, but nodded, giving no outward sign of her thoughts. “That kind of thing will not work with us. Do you want to tell us what this is about?”
A dark look entered the dealer’s eye and he glances rapidly at a few of the mercs eyeing them from the doors. Some of them had begun to slip out, she noted. He hesitated, the smoke swirling around his horns lazily.
He spat to the side again. “Fine,” he said, plucking something out of his vest pocket. “I ain’t dyin’ for nobody.” He slid something small across the counter. A datachip. She picked it up silently and put it in one of her many pockets. “Go to those coordinates. Heard the guy yer after… he hangs out there, ya know? That’s all I got.”
Garellan gave him a steely glare. “I hope you’re not lying… friend. The Jedi have many techniques to break one’s mind…” Culurien glanced at him side-long again, feeling a stab of worry. That was something she’d definitely not hear from him. The arms dealer raised his hands, as if to ward them off.
“Hey, why would I do that? I’m not stupid. Now, will you please, [i]leave[/i]?” He leaned closer, eyes darting furtively. “Yer scarin’ the customers.” Indeed, she could feel the tension. Many had already left.
She bowed shortly. “Thank you for your time, sir.” Turning carefully, she walked out. Garellan followed more reluctantly, but he did follow. The guards lounging by the door gave them pointedly angry glares, fingering their modified holdouts.
Once outside, she led them back onto the main thoroughfare, keeping their distance from the pockets of gang members that loitered at intervals. They walked a few blocks in silence. Finally, Culurien judged it safe to speak.
“Garellan, that last threat was not truly necessary.”
He glanced up at her and looked away. “I’m sorry, master.”
Images of how some Jedi had abused mind powers flashed through her mind. Many of them had fallen to the dark side. She grimaced as she let them wash over her and recede into the dim recesses of her mind.
“I hope you never have to use such techniques.”
“As do I, master,” he said quickly. She sighed, letting the matter go. Feeling out with the force, as was her wont, she could tell they were being followed, watched. But unlike earlier, the gangsters were no longer attacking.
“I suspect we’ve not seen the last of his enforcers,” she mused.
Garellan looked up, seemingly surprised. “But there was truth in his words.”
“Aye… but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to stop us… or warn others who will.”
She squinted against the gloom. She was careful to keep them in open places as much as possible, as they made their way to the coordinates. More than once, she wished she had brought a Legionnaire or two as backup. She hadn’t expected quite this level of resistance, and it was looking very likely that this tip was a trap. It wasn’t for her safety she feared, but that of her new padawan. It wouldn’t do to get him killed on his first mission.
***
The coordinates led to an abandoned warehouse near the edge of the sector. She had been right about the trap.
The place was swarming with mercs. And not just any – these were professionals. She shield Garellan as much as she could, letting instinct take over, steeped in the Force. It didn’t take long for the mercs to discern their presence. She didn’t see the use of stealth in a place this guarded. They knew they were coming. Misdirection was easier. They finished off the guards and feinted right while going left, deeper along the edge of the structure.
The place buzzed like a hive as the mercs tried to figure out where they were – groups of three and four patrolled, eyes searching, angry shouts occasionally echoing off the walls. As they peered around a group of crates, another group came into view.
She nodded to Garellan and pointed, using hand signals. He’d picked up the shorthand she used in combat quickly. They leaped over the barricade and charged, Garellan managing to lift one of bounty hunters into the air, while Culurien slammed two into the far wall hard with a full bodied disturbance wave. They fell to ground senseless, their partner sailing clear across the room hitting and collapsing a shelf of droid parts, creating more chaos. By then, Garellan had knocked out the last opponent and they melted into the shadows, the angry shouts growing in intensity.
That had only worked because they’d had the element of surprise. They were running out of time. She noted as a few more mercs slipped in with pit beasts. It was almost impossible to hide from those. Besides that, the mercs were focus firing Garellan. They knew he was her padawan. She frowned, feeling a surge of disgust. No, time was not on their side.
Making their way in a zig zag pattern, they managed to rifle through a locked desk drawer in one of the tables, finding several old datapads and datachips, which they split between them. No telling yet how useful they would be. There was one last likely place… she could see it in her mind. The Force was guiding them.
The guard increased, Culurien taking down several barking, slobbering pit beast trackers. Finally, they reached the back part of the lair where several crates were piled high. To her surprise, the opposition seemed to be evaporating. She glanced around the metallic room, feeling uneasy. What were they after, if not to stop them?
“Master!” Garellan yelled, jumping in front of her. Two pit beasts leapt from the shadows toward her, their eyes glowering orange, jaws dripping and snapping. They had been so silent, she hadn’t noticed them. Garellan threw them backward a step with a wave of force energy, and her blade took one in the chest. To her horror, the other fastened on his arm. Another slice, and it was dead.
Garellan was breathing heavily. All this fighting was taking its toll on him.
“You all right?”
She looked him over with a critical eye. His arm was mangled, blood seeping onto the floor. A stab of pain filled her. He shouldn’t have jumped in front of her. She could have dealt with the beasts with ease… but she couldn’t rightly condemn the instinct. It might save someone else’s life someday. She sighed and took his arm in her hands, closing her eyes and focusing.
“Don’t worry about me master,” he said. He sounded tired. She ignored him, allowing the Force to fill her, channeling healing into the torn flesh and muscles. She felt the blood loss slowing, and she wrapped the injury in a sheath of energy to keep the wound clean. To her relief, she could detect no poison. Sometimes, mercs would modify the fangs of these creatures to inject it.
She opened her eyes. “That should hold it until we can get you to a med center.” She glanced around, thankful that no leftover mercs had taken the time to attack. The place was beginning to have an abandoned feel. Had they given up so easily?
“See what you can find,” she said.
She was examining a stack of scrap metal in a corner, when Garellan gave a shout. “Over here, Master! I found… an empty credit box, it looks like.” She walked over and examined it, taking it in gloved hands. The markings on the outside were unfamiliar to her. It was definitely custom made. Garellan bent down beside her, pointing out parts of it that stood out to him.
Touching her forehead a moment, she made a call through her earpiece to the Legion’s encrypted channel. Six answered. She smiled inwardly. Perfect.
She stood up and they began to make their way out, using a back door exit, and Culurien explained the situation in short.
“I need you to run some tests – DNA analysis, perhaps trace the manufacturer. I’ll meet you back at ‘port.”
“Right,” she said. “DNA analysis is easy. Finding a match… not so much.”
“We’ll see,” she said.
***
In short order, Culurien whisked them out of that district and onto a taxi back to the spaceport. Garellan looked exhausted. And well he might. Her own first mission with Master Veed hadn’t involved nearly that much exertion.
“I’ve never drawn so heavily on the Force before,” he had said as they were fighting. She eyed his arm again, feeling relieved that it looked no worse. It had been good practice in focus. Nar Shaddaa was a trying place to find calm. His technique was improving.
Her mind went back over the mission. Questioning the assassin’s contacts had drawn more heat than she’d anticipated. Point. They had managed to find a credit box possibly linked to him, and a few datapads and datachips. They’d also managed to free a slave chef in the process. All told, not a bad run. She only hoped the data would prove useful.
She was taken from her reverie by an exclamation, and glanced at Garellan, whose eyes were dancing with excitement. “We were close, Master. The mercs were trying to delay us, while someone else escaped. That’s why they melted away.”
She pondered this possibility. “Perhaps.”
“I’m almost certain,” he said.
They stepped out at the ‘port, and Culurien handed off the credit box to Six in the cantina. She took it in gloved hands, stashing it away in a plastic evidence bag. After a short conversation, she disappeared into the smoky haze.
Culurien quirked a smile. She always felt sad around Six. She hoped that someday, her spirit could be mended. She sensed much pain from her. But then, it was not terribly unusual to find in this line of work.
She looked over to Garellan and smiled as she watched him regal their trip and fight with the merc’s tracker beasts to Lt. D’lar. He was leaning against the bar, eyebrows raising ever higher. Garellan held up his arm for emphasis. It was still dripping blood, if slowly. Seeing it brought her back to the moment and she walked over, nodding solemnly.
“Aye, one of the beasts decided he was tasty and thought it good to take a bite out of him.”
Garellan gave her a puzzled frown. “I’m pretty sure taste had nothing to do with it, Master.” She smiled.
“It’s lucky you two came out ok,” Martin said, giving her a look.
She sighed. “… I may have underestimated the resistance. I’ll be sure to put in call to the Legion next time we try this again.” She smiled at him and Martin nodded curtly, as if that was the only sensible thing to do.
“Happy to assist, Master A’jelor. Anythin’ that involves the assassin…”
She turned to Garellan and asked him firmly to go to the med center. He could catch up with D’lar another time. Eying the lieutenant, she asked if he would perhaps accompany him, and he agreed, picking up his helmet off the counter. They chatted amicably as they left, finally disappearing around the bend, trailing a haze of smoke. The cantina always seemed to be hazy.
She smiled. Garellan would make a fine knight someday. In a few minutes, she left the cantina herself, making her way back to the ship and began pouring over the datapads and datachips. If they could just find a proper lead on this guy…