Awakenings
Something was seriously wrong with this job. This much Sadra knew. The droid, “Rendill,” had been destroyed. And only Sirena could have done it. Despite the fact that the woman claimed to be its owner. The ship’s logs were completely blank. Not wiped, just nonexistent in the first place. There was nothing to recover from here. What was Sirena hiding?
This would have been at the forefront of Sadra’s thoughts, were it not for the giant space worm that had appeared, practically out of nowhere, and was apparently intent on making Sadra, everyone else on board, and the derelict ship itself, its next meal. Suddenly, the truth behind this strange job didn’t seem to matter all that much.
Querrick had no idea what that… thing was. But he knew a threat when he saw it. The others were clearly in danger, and seeing as it was far below range of the Mythosaur’s top loaded laser cannon, that meant that he was the crew’s only possible hope of defense. Querrick couldn’t fight the instinctual smile that played across his face as that fact settled in. This would be a good challenge.
As the Cathar took aim, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a barrel barreling towards him at an alarming rate. Apparently the others were more interested in getting the rest of the doomed cargo on board the Mythosaur than dealing with the clearly deadly threat right before them.
Querrick cursed under his breath as he slung his rifle over his back and caught the barrel just before it collided with him, struggling to balance the new weight as the container became subjected to the Mythosaur’s artificial gravity.
Knoll watched in horror as he saw the mighty exogorth lurch from its hiding place. He didn’t know much about the creatures. Few did, as they were nearly impossible to study without winding up dead. But he knew enough to know that this ship’s firepower would not be enough to stop it, even if the ship were in range to fire in the first place.
He did know, however, that the creatures were susceptible to certain sound waves. With the little rudimentary knowledge he had of the ship, and ships in general, Knoll worked quickly at the controls. Adjusting the ship’s broadcasting dish along with the radar, he was able to send a high pitched transmission directly towards the giant space slug.
He watched with bated breath as the Exogorth turned to look his direction, as if in curiosity, but nothing more. The sound was not enough to drive off the creature, merely distract it. For how long, Knoll could only guess.
Just then a noise from within the ship caused Knoll to jump, as Querrick’s nasally voice shouted over the comms, “Doc! Get your pale white ass down here and start clearing some of this crap to the cargo bay!”
As Butter was returning to the YT-1300’s cargo bay to collect more of the mystery freight, he noticed something rather peculiar. The Human woman, Sirena was walking towards him, with two of the barrels. Except, the barrels were not in hand. They were floating in front of her, as if on grav pallets. Except, there were no grav pallets in sight.
Butter paused and cocked his head at this unusual sight. His first thought was to check and see if the ship’s artificial gravity had been taken offline. But that theory was shot down the next instant as the entire ship lurched forward. Butter lost his footing and stumbled into a nearby corridor wall, while the human managed to land more gracefully. The barrels, however, remained in the air, as they had always been.
“Hmm.” Butter hummed, perplexed by the phenomenon.
“What are you doing just standing there, droid? Get moving!” Sirena called out, pushing the barrels towards him.
“As you wish.” Butter replied, taking hold of the cargo and returning to the opening of the destroyed freighter.
Querrick had yet to take a shot at the great beast. This fact bothered him more than anything. More than the fact that the giant creature had just taken an alarmingly large bite out of the other ship, dangerously close to the cockpit. He could only hope Sadra wasn’t still lingering there.
Only slightly less annoying was the rate in which Butter was flinging the damn cargo at him, which was the cause of his inaction. He had just caught another barrel, when he saw a crate flying towards him, paced far too close behind the last “delivery.”
“Haar’chak!” He shouted. Bending himself backwards, he released the barrel in his hands behind him, and pushed it down the corridor towards the cargo bay. In the same motion, he used the momentum to perform a quick kip up, getting back to his feet to catch the crate flying towards him.
With an annoyed grunt, he slid the box behind him. Let the Doc worry about that nonsense, he had more important matters to deal with. Seeing a window, he slung his rifle back around, took aim, let out a deep breath, and fired his blaster at the highest power setting possible.
Querrick watched in stunned silence as the bolt landed true. The creature let out a mighty roar, shaking the asteroid and the ship, violently. Despite all of this, Querrick knew how little it helped. He was careful to watch the bolt land. He saw how most of it simply dissipated off the creature’s thick hide. Querrick had barely made a scratch. The roar could not have been from pain. Simply surprise. He assumed the creature had never felt even the slightest hint of an attack. This would have been akin to a child’s first bug bite.
Realizing the futility of this, Querrick reached for his comms, and quietly said, “Butter, hurry it up…”
“What are you doing?!” Sirena half screeched at Sadra, “Can’t you carry two?!”
Sadra gaped at the Human, looked down at the massive barrel in her arms, then back to Sirena, “Excuse me?”
“Carry at least two! Do you want to die here?!” Sirena yelled back.
“And how would you suggest I do that?” Sadra asked.
“Ugh!” Sirena grunted in frustration, “Just go!” She then ran back to the cargo bay as the ship lurched again.
Luckily, Sadra was able to keep her footing this time. Even more lucky was the fact that there were no transparisteel windows to be thrown through in this particular part of the ship…
Knowing they were running out of time, Sadra rushed as quickly as she could toward the exit, where Butter was waiting. “Catch!” She called out to the droid.
Butter held out his arms in anticipation, but simply stared at Sadra, as the barrel fell to the floor many feet short of its intended target.
“That was disappointing.” Butter replied, in his monotone voice.
Sadra simply shook her head, frustrated, and rushed back to the cargo bay.
Querrick didn’t have time to take another shot, useless as the gesture might be, as Butter had now returned, throwing crates and barrels at him at an alarming speed. Until now, they had all been thrown with pinpoint accuracy. However, with the last barrel in the current barrage, the ship lurched again, as the creature took another large bite out of the ship. This threw off the droid’s aim, causing the barrel to hit the side of the Mythosaur and drift aimlessly away from Querrick.
Querrick growled. Whatever this cargo was, it was apparently important enough for those fools to go completely jare.
Rushing back inside the ship, Querrick grabbed a spare tow cable. Using some of the earliest knowledge he had ever gained, when it came to hunting the most basic of creatures, Querrick fashioned a makeshift lasso out of the tow cable. Back at the open docking ring doors, Querrick hurled the cable as far out as he could manage in an attempt to ensnare the wayward barrel. Unfortunately, the empty void of space didn’t exactly act the same as the jungles of Rishi.
The lasso flew far, simply due to the force of the throw. But the aim was horribly off. However, not all hope was lost. Due to the aimlessness of the barrel, it was drifting ever closer to Querrick’s makeshift lasso, which was now slowly tangling, resembling more a ball of yarn than anything else. Still, he had to try. Yanking on the tangled tow cable at just the right moment, the barrel became tightly ensnared in Querrick’s “web.” With a triumphant shot, he began pulling the barrel in.
There were three crates still at Butter’s feet. But judging by the number of times the ship had shuddered and convulsed, the droid assumed that time was of the essence, now more than ever. Adding on to the fact that the tiny Cathar was preoccupied roping in the one stray piece of cargo.
Butter eyed the crates, and shrugged. There was only one way he could see to move all three at once. Starting with the most difficult task first, Butter squatted over one of the crates. With some effort, he managed to wedge the crate between his legs, and clamp down, ensuring it would not dislodge. He then gathered the other two, one under each arm. Then, activating his servo boosters, he launched himself from the doomed freighter, back to the safety of the Mythosaur.
Butter heard the Cathar shout something unintelligible, a Mando’a curse he assumed, as he flew past Querrick, and landed lightly, just inside the ship.
“What are you doing?! Lift them both!” Sirena yelled out again.
“What are you talking about?!” Sadra was now yelling too. They were about to be eaten by a giant space slug, and this lunatic was too concerned about impossibilities.
“I mean lift them both!” Sirena replied.
“How?” Sadra asked.
“Use your mind! Feel them!” Sirena yelled back.
Sadra pursed her lips, insulted by the insinuation that she was somehow not intelligent to lift a barrel. But she decided to indulge the lunatic. Reaching down, she put both hands around one of the barrels and began to rub it. “There, I’m feeling it. Happy now?”
Sirena slapped Sadra’s hands away and said, “No! Like this.”
Sadra watched as Sirena closed her eyes, reached out with her hand, and seemed to struggle greatly. Her face scrunched up, her muscles seemed to tense, yet she was not touching the barrels at all. And yet, much to her shock, the barrels were lifting off the ground.
Sadra’s eyes grew wide at the phenomenon, and for one moment, she forgot all about the imminent danger surrounding them.
Sirena let out a gruff sigh, and let the barrels fall back to the ground. “Now you.” She said.
“And how do you expect me to do that?” Sadra asked.
“You can. You’ve been doing it all your life. Think about it. When you’ve made repairs on the ship. When you’ve made anything, did it never strike you as odd at how easily you were able to handle the tools? The machinery? It’s in you. You just don’t know it yet. Now lift the barrels.”
Sadra eyed Sirena warily. She was certifiably insane. Of this she was certain. Yet there was something about what she was saying that made sense. Shaking her head, Sadra closed her eyes, lifted her hand, and attempted to “feel” the barrels. After some strain, she realized she could. As she slowly opened her eyes, she was shocked to see that the barrels were indeed floating.
“Yes!” Sirena shouted, “You’re doing it!”
Sadra couldn’t deny it. She was. Somehow, she was lifting the barrels without even touching them. Although, something about it still felt off. Another moment of awe later, she realized what it was. Sirena was helping her. But not much. Some of this impossible phenomenon was her own doing. Unable to help herself, Sadra let out a giggle. Whether out of delight or out of the surely ever creeping insanity she must be experiencing, she wasn’t sure.
The moment ended all too soon, though, as the two women were reminded of the severe danger they were both in, as the ship lurched once more. This time, they did not get rocked one way or the other, as the ship’s power, and artificial gravity finally gave way. Now they were floating, along with the barrels.
“Let’s move.” Sirena said, taking hold of the barrels and pushing them past them, towards their exit.
“Where the haran are they?” Querrick half muttered to Butter. Just then, he could see two barrels floating out of the half destroyed ship’s entry point, with Sadra and Sirena floating behind them. Apparently the ship finally lost power. Made sense, considering how quickly that creature was making lunch of the ship.
Querrick caught each barrel and handed them off to Butter, who rolled them down the corridor. He then assisted the women in getting back on board. Once everyone was safely inside, Querrick detached the tow cable connecting the two ships. He then gave the creature one last gaze, and shook his head. Such a hunt… such a prize… to have to let go and flee… Querrick didn’t like it. But he knew better than to be that foolish.
Just as he reached for the docking ring door controls, though, the ship lurched, violently. Querrick didn’t need the confirmation of the completely distracted creature to know that it was not that which caused the ship to lurch so violently.
Looking towards the direction of the attack, Querrick spotted something that he never ever wanted to see again. Four dark red Jumpmaster 5000 class starships flying in at top speed, and in perfect formation.
“Kriffing haran…” Querrick all but whispered, then in a louder, much more panicked voice, he said, “Butter… Get us out of here! Now!”
Butter had a pretty good guess at how much danger they were in. The Cathar’s increased heart rate and breathing, his much higher pitched voice. The little one was panicked. He’d only really seen that once before. And knowing now what he did not know then, it could only mean one thing: Mandalorians.
This reason alone was enough to make Butter bypass all the normal take off procedures. Trying his best to push the Mythosaur into gear as fast as possible, he was disappointed when the only result was a whirring down of an engine and a lot of flashing lights and alarms.
Well. This wouldn’t do much for the Cathar’s heart rate, Butter thought to himself. At least there was still a doctor on board.
“Need a hand?” Knoll asked.
“I’ll take any help offered.” Butter replied. “Where is Sadra?”
“I’m not sure.” Knoll replied, as he somehow managed to flush the engine. “I’ll go find her.”
As Knoll left, the Human entered. Even more panicked than the Cathar, she screamed, “What’s going on? Why aren’t we getting out of here?!”
Butter shook his head, “Ask the doctor. He did something to the engines, completely stalled the ship. It’s gonna take a few minutes to get it back up to working order.”
“Hey! You! Arkanian!” Knoll could hear Sirena screaming at him from just a few feet behind.
As he turned to face her, her hand clutched around his throat and he was thrown up against the wall, with more force than he thought possible. In fact, there seemed to be a pressure of some sort pinning his whole body to the wall, not just the woman’s hand.
In a strained, half choked voice, he managed to say, “You know, if this were any other time, under any other circumstances, I’d probably be enjoying this. But I don’t think now is the time.”
The woman’s eyes, full of fury, suddenly went wide, changing to shock. She then dropped Knoll, stepped back, and then ran to her room, locking the door behind her.
As Knoll rubbed his throat, he looked down the hallway toward the closed off room. “What was that about?” He wondered aloud.
As he approached the door and knocked, a meek voice replied, “Go away.”
Knoll’s confusion only deepened. As he was about to knock again, Sadra approached from behind, and said, “Let me.” She then knocked, and announced herself. The door unlocked, and Sadra slid in, closing the door behind her.
Knoll was about to protest, but he was interrupted again, this time by Querrick, coming up from further down the hall. “Haar’chak! Why aren’t we moving yet?!”
“Blame Knoll! He’s the one who screwed everything up. Trying to punch it into hyperspace while the ship was still warming up.” Butter replied, shaking his head, as he continued to attempt to get the ship firing again.
Querrick turned to glare at the Arkanian. The Doc’s face was exasperated, fed up. Without a word, he simply left the bridge, leaving Querrick alone with the droid.
Querrick shook his head, they didn’t have time for this. It was then that he spotted the ship’s comms light flashing. They were hailing them. They’d already pelted the ship with more blasterfire than the thing had yet seen, and still, they wanted to talk? Maybe talking would buy them the time they needed…
Querrick didn’t like the idea. It obviously didn’t go well the first time he’d tried it. But they were out gunned, bleeding, in danger of getting eaten, and out of options. This was their last chance.
Querrick walked up to the comms, answered the hail, and began, “Gev tracyn!”
As expected, the barrage ceased immediately, and it took them a moment to reply, “Tion’ad cuyir ibic? Pehea vaabir gar kar’taylir Mando’a?”
Querrick shook his head. They wouldn’t get it that easily, he thought to himself, then asked, “Tion’ad cuyir gar alor?”
Already knowing the answer, he was not surprised to hear the response, “Jaffar Balor. Jorhaa’ir gar gai.”
“Cuyir kaysh ti gar?” He asked.
“Tion’ad cuyir gar? Rejorhaa’ir mhi jii ra vi naastar gar me’sen.”
Querrick knew their single-mindedness would keep leading to this question, and if he didn’t answer soon, they’d all be dead, regardless. He looked over towards Butter, who was still struggling to get the ship running, much less ready for take off.
“Motir daab bal vi kelir ara’novor.” They continued without waiting for Querrick’s reply.
“Te vheh’ad cuyir naysol buruk at su olar.” Querrick replied in a last ditch effort to buy more time.
“Vi kelir hiibir baatir be te vheh’ad, rejorhaa’ir mhi gar gai.”
Querrick watched as two of the Jumpmaster ships pulled away from formation, and surrounded the creature. He had expected blasterfire, but was surprised to see they were only using the broadcasters. They were pulsing the creature with… sound? Much to Querrick’s shock, it worked. The behemoth slowly coiled away, slinking back into its tunnel within the giant asteroid, pulling what remained of the YT-1300 along with it.
They were out of time. There would be no escape this time. But that was when Querrick realized something. He was done running. If it came to a fight so be it. He couldn’t fight who he was. But that just meant he could fight everything else. He was a warrior. And all this running. Running away. Running to. It didn't matter. A warrior did not run. A warrior stood his ground. A warrior fought. And he was a warrior. No. Not just a warrior. He was a Mandalorian…
Replying once more, and more resolved than he’d ever been, even when he had escaped, he replied, “Ner gai cuyir Querrick Q’intaro.”
Suddenly the ships broke formation. They surrounded the Mythosaur. Querrick recognized the maneuver. They were targeting every critical system the could find. Targeting, but not attacking. They were trapping them. Ready to kill at a moment’s notice, but, for the moment, merely holding their ground.
A new voice then came on over comms, a voice Querrick recognized, a voice he dearly did not want to hear, “Why did you leave Querrick?” The gruff voice asked.
“I think that’s a discussion for me to have with Balor.” Querrick replied. He knew that they’d know who he meant, despite most of them sharing the name.
“Wait.” The voice replied, caught off guard, “You mean, you don’t know?”
“Know what?” Querrick asked, suddenly feeling uneasy at the bizarre change of atmosphere in the conversation.
“I think that’s a conversation we should have in person.” The voice replied, “We’ll come aboard now.”
“You will come aboard. The other’s can stay where they are.” Querrick replied, knowing full well neither situation put them in any less danger. He just knew that he’d have a better chance speaking one on one, as opposed to all of them at once.
“Deal.” The voice replied, “See you soon.”
“So, mind if we talk?” Sadra asked, as she closed the door behind her.
“I’m sorry.” Sirena replied, “I never meant to lash out like that. It’s dangerous… for people like us to lose our temper. We’re capable of so much more.”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you know of the Force? The Jedi?” Sirena asked.
Sadra cocked an eyebrow. Stories about mythological sorcerers? This wasn’t exactly where she thought this conversation was going.
“The stories are true.” She continued, “Well, probably not all of them. But the Jedi were real. The Force is real. Its the power that you felt back on that ship. the power that allowed you to lift those barrels. The power that accompanies you in your work. It’s your ally in life. It allows you to perform unimaginable feats. But it can be dangerous if left untrained. A danger to yourself. A danger to those around you. I wish I could tell you that I will train you. But I’m not the one you need.
“I was trained once, by someone far more knowledgeable than I. But he said I was not strong enough to handle the training of a true Jedi. He taught me only enough to keep from killing myself. He said it would be best to let my powers dwindle. Better to be ‘normal’ than to grow into a threat.
“Funny thing is, I agreed with him. Still do. I’m grateful for what little control I have. It helps me in my missions. Gives me a slight edge. But it doesn’t overpower me. At least, not usually.”
Sadra didn’t know how to process this information. She also didn’t know how to respond to the woman’s monologue. It was all a little too much. So, she latched onto the one thing that she understood, “Missions?”
Sirena let out a hollow laugh, “Of course you would catch that. I’m an undercover Rebel spy. Just like you, Sadra.”
Sadra took an unconscious step back, as if she had been slapped in the face. How did this woman know so much about her?
“My task. My only task is to figure out the destination of these shipments. That droid. The R4 unit. It was heavily encrypted with Imperial software. It’s origin point, it’s destination, everything was in the droid. The ship was just the vessel to transport. The droid was the key to everything. And I got it, but I can’t unlock it.” Sirena then held up a datachip, “You’re pretty good with computers, aren’t you?”
Sadra grinned, and took the chip, inserting it into her datapad. Sirena wasn’t kidding, the encryption was heavy. But thanks to Sadra’s repeated experience with Imperial encryption, especially lately, she was able to crack it, with some effort.
The information revealed was interesting. The pick up was always Ord Mantell. The two types of barrels and the crates were all listed. Always the same shipment. The droid would pick them up, then head to the destination. A set of unknown coordinates. There, it would perform one more pick up. Then, on the same system, it would drop everything off. Afterwards, it would head back to Ord Mantell, and repeat the process, ad infinitum.
Apparently a change in the droid’s scheduled pick ups and deliveries were only permitted through a Lieutenant Science Officer William Corvae. The name was unfamiliar to Sadra, but she was sure Rebel High Command would salivate over this information.
“This is big!” Sirena said, reading over the information uncovered, “We need to go to these coordinates. We need to know the drop off destination!”
“We need to survive long enough to get there, first.” Sadra reminded her.
Querrick waited at the airlock. He would greet him face to face. He would keep his rifle slung over his back, but not in hand. This meeting could easily go one of two ways. Any show of weakness on his part would ruin it. Any show of excessive threat would also ruin it. He was walking down a precarious tightrope now. And his life, the lives of everyone on board, depended completely on how this meeting went.
He could hear the outer airlock sealing. It would only be a matter of seconds before the doors would open, revealing the big ugly face he never wanted to see again.
Querrick swallowed hard, and steeled his nerves as the doors hissed and opened, revealing the massive Karkarodon, he held his helmet under one arm, so he could show his row of razor sharp teeth. He may have been smiling but Querrick could never tell the difference between a smile, and a show of clear threat with the beast-like creature. The rest of his body was covered in the beskar’gam of the clan. Adorning the armor, naturally were more weapons than would ever be necessary for a meeting such as this. In other words, it was exactly what he was expecting.
Looking the monster straight in the eye, Querrick greeted his guest, “Olaram, Zidon Balor.”
“Olaram, Querrick Q’intaro.” The massive Mandalorian replied, adding an emphasized sneer in his voice when saying Querrick’s surname.
Querrick paid no intention to such a small slight, and gestured for the Karkarodon to follow him. He led him into the ship’s galley. Querick then fumbled around the pantries and refrigeration units until he found what he was looking for, a bottle of Chandrilan Blue ‘439. Querrick never drank. But he knew the Mandalorian customs. He just hoped this stuff would be strong enough to appease his “guest.”
Grabbing two glasses, he poured the liquor, offered a glass to Zidon, and said, “K’oyacyi.”
“K’oyacyi!” Zidon replied, with a somehow even bigger smile than earlier.
As Querrick took a sip of the stuff, it was all he could do to keep it down. It seemed plenty strong to him. Meanwhile, Zidon had finished his glass in one gulp.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his webbed hand, Zidon let out a satisfied sigh, and said, “Why are you here, Querrick?”
“I left.” Querrick replied, careful not to say too much.
Zidon shook his head, “That’s not what I asked. Why are you here? What’s the job? Why are you here?”
Querrick understood now. He shrugged, nonchalantly, and replied, “Got hired by some Human. Said their shipment got stuck in an asteroid field, needed someone to pull it out of the fire. What about you?”
Zidon shrugged as he poured another drink into his glass, “Just a job. Picked up a bounty. Headed out to collect.”
“What was the target?”
“That cargo.” He said, pointing towards the Mythosaur cargo bay.
“Complete coincidence running into me, eh?” Querrick asked, still not convinced.
Zidon laughed, “Jaffar’s been looking for you. He’s got a bounty out on your head. You know that?” He then scoffed, “Can hardly call it a bounty if it ain’t ‘dead or alive’ though.”
“Where is he?” Querrick asked, remembering the Karkarodon’s words from earlier.
Zidon looked Querrick square in the eye, and said, “You really don’t know, huh?”
Querrick said nothing.
Zidon then rolled his eyes, and said, “He’s sick.”
“Sick how?” Querrick asked, unable to process the feelings this sudden news brewed within him.
“Psh, how should I know? I look like a doctor to you? You think I spend all my time at his bedside on Rishi, tending to his every need? The man’s getting old. He’s sick.” He finished with a shrug.
Querrick was unable to respond as he considered this news.
“He’s been asking for you. He’s put out an order to the entire clan. ‘Find Querrick. Bring him back. Alive.’ I think he’s… ugh… worried about you.” The Karkarodon practically choked on the last words.
“Was Dooga Jet under those orders too?” Querrick asked, with a sudden realization.
Zidon arched a brow, or whatever his species had above the eye, since they were hairless creatures, and said, “Yeah… Why would you ask about him? You know something we don’t? He hasn’t checked in with the clan in weeks. Or has it been months?”
Querrick let out a low chuckle and replied, “Oh yeah. I know something about that… Dooga and I… we had an… encounter of sorts. You won’t be hearing from him for a long while. Or, ever, really.”
Zidon’s eyes grew wide and said, “You killed him?!”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Zidon was silent for a long moment before bursting into a roar of laughter. “You? ‘Querrick the runt?’ You killed a fully trained Mandalorian Trandoshan?”
Querrick bridled at the mention of the old nickname the others had labeled him with for as long as he could remember, but kept his cool, only because he knew he was teetering on the edge of a very sharp knife.
“Well, hell, not to mention damn, kid. I gotta say, I’m impressed. Jaffar will be too when he hears that news. Never liked Dooga. Guy was a tool.”
“I remember.” Querrick replied, almost sarcastically. This light back and forth was surreal. He was actually sharing a laugh with this beast of a man. This thing that had, on more than one occasion, threatened to eat him alive when he was just a cub.
After he finished laughing, Zidon continued, “Go home, Querrick. Your buir misses you. He’s concerned about you. It’s why he kept you on such a short leash. He cared too much about you.”
“Leash.” Querrick scoffed. “You asked earlier why I left? You just answered your own question with that remark.”
Zidon laughed, “Growing a little backbone, eh, runt?” After seeing that Querrick wasn’t falling for the obvious bait, he continued, “Old man is getting soft.” He said with disgust, “Probably why he liked you so much. You were always soft. Always cared too much about others. Cared too much about the clan. Cared too much about hurting the ‘innocent.’ You’re soft. He’s soft.”
Querrick eyed the Karkarodon wearily. Where had that come from? He thought he was soft? That he cared about Balor’s band of miscreants? It was Querrick’s sole desire to slaughter them all. At least, that’s what he’d always thought… But then he remembered the hollow emptiness of that first vengeful kill. Dooga Jet would not be missed. Certainly not by Querrick. He felt no guilt by the action. But it was true, he also felt no joy. No relief. Nothing that he had always expected to feel. Maybe he was wrong about even more than he thought. Maybe even Zidon knew Querrick better than he knew himself.
“And yet you follow him.” Querrick stated.
“Some of us are just biding our time.” Zidon replied, with a toothy grin, “And some of us don’t have much time left. Go home, Querrick.”
“I think I will.” Querrick whispered, “After I finish this job.” He finished in a stronger voice.
“Ah, yes, your ‘job.’” Zidon replied, “And here, we are at an impasse. I can’t kill you.”
“I think you could. Quite easily, actually.” Querrick interrupted, feeding the beast’s ego.
Zidon laughed, “Ah, good, you haven’t forgotten your place. But you know what I mean. I’m bound by my oath. I cannot kill you. And yet, I am bound by the bounty contract. I cannot leave empty handed.”
“Well. I’m in no rush to die.” Querrick replied, “And this is just one job of many, to me. If it goes south, it goes south. Life goes on.”
“Glad to hear you say that.” Zidon smiled, “How many lives you saving here, by doing all this for me? How many lives you sparing that little guilty conscious of yours?”
Querrick fought the urge to roll his eyes, and said, “There are three others on board. Plus a droid.” He finished with a shrug.
“Droids don’t count.”
Querrick just shrugged again.
Zidon just laughed.
Querrick thought for a moment, and then said, “Let me talk to my employer. I’m sure they would rather leave alive and empty handed than die.”
“Good boy.” Zidon mocked, “Hey you got anything to eat in here? I’m starving.”
“Help yourself.” Querrick gestured to the pantries.
“And hey! Don’t take too long.” Zidon shouted after Querrick as he made his way down the hall, “I’ve got a tight deadline with this bounty.”
“Yeah, you’ve also got a stomach, which isn’t looking too tight these days.” Querrick snapped back, “So just enjoy yourself, and I’ll be back when I’m good and ready.”
Querrick could hear Zidon growl, but it was only done in an attempt to fight back the laughter. Again, he had to shake his head at the bizarre event that had just occurred, and at the unbelievably good way it was going.
They weren’t dead yet. Knoll could only assume that was a good thing. He had gotten the update that the attackers were members of Querrick’s former Mandalorian clan, and that he was going to try to negotiate with them, alone. The whole thing sounded suicidal. But everything about this mission so far had that feel to it.
With nothing but time on his hands, Knoll decided to inspect the new cargo that they had taken on. Something about it all just seemed wrong. Almost as if he could feel that the contents were bad news.
Using his medical scanner, he started with the first set of barrels. The scanner had no issue reading the contents within. Bantha powder. Refined bantha powder. Banthazolate to be precise.
“Bantha powder? Again?” He asked aloud to no one in particular. What was it about this seemingly harmless substance that caused the entire Outer Rim to go insane over it?
Shaking his head, he headed towards the crates next. The scanner couldn’t pick up much. Hydraulic fluid, maybe? But not much of it. Knoll surmised these crates must hold some sort of machinery.
Finally, he headed towards the final set of barrels. As the scanner worked, it kept showing a chemical compound that Knoll was unfamiliar with: BrJa. It didn’t sound like anything he’d heard of before. And yet… there was something there… something in the recesses of his mind. Something regarding research reports. Projects…
It hit him like a Rancor running at full speed. Dropping the scanner in shock, he remembered where he’d heard the name before. And he dreaded that he was finding it now. Aboard this ship. Just who was the Sirena woman? Just what was going on here? And why were there barrels and barrels of components for that neurotoxin here?
Before he could speculate any further, his comlink sprung to life, as Querrick’s voice called out, “Hey Doc, we need to have a chat, all of us. Come to Sirena’s quarters.”
The three parties explained their own findings in turn. Sirena revealed that she was in fact a Rebel, working to find the destination of the shipments. Knoll explained his own hand in the development of at least some of the items being shipped, and his great desire to put a stop to it himself. And Querrick explained the impasse that kept any of them doing anything about it.
“All they want is the cargo. They don’t care about us, or the ship. They just want that junk.” Querrick explained again.
“I need to see where it ends up. We need to deliver it. I need confirmation for my allies. The delivery will net you ten thousand credits, is that not enough to buy them off?” Sirena argued again.
This was going nowhere, and Querrick knew it. They had been arguing in circles for too long already. Suddenly, an idea formed. “How about this.” He began, “We ‘deliver’ the cargo, you get the coordinates you need, we get the credits for the drop off, and then my ‘friends’ swoop in and take the cargo for themselves? You don’t care about the cargo itself, only the destination. Knoll, this will keep the cargo out of Imperial hands. And Zidon and his men get to collect their own bounty.”
“Everybody wins.” Knoll replied, thoughtfully.
“Hopefully.” Querrick replied.
He then rushed back to the galley, where the Karkarodon had indeed “helped himself” to their food stores. Ignoring the mess, Querrick offered the same deal to Zidon.
Zidon listened intently and said, “You want us to wait, and steal it from a potentially heavily armored Imperial base?”
Querrick knew he’d have to bluff hard here, but he knew Zidon well enough, he hoped. “What? Is the great Zidon Balor afraid of a little challenge? You think you can’t handle the job? Can’t quite adjust when plans go awry? Maybe Balor’s not the only one going soft.”
Querrick watched Zidon’s steely eyes narrow, and hoped very much that he didn’t push too far. After what felt like an eternity, Zidon burst into another fit of laughter, and jumped to his feet. “You’ve got yourself a deal, runt.” He then held out his arm.
Querrick smiled, and took the arm in hand, shaking it, and said, “K’oyacyi!”
“K’oyacyi!” Zidon replied. He then pulled Querrick in, uncomfortably close to his razor sharp tooth filled maw, and said, “You get one day’s head start. After that, we start hunting again. You’d better make it there before we catch up to you.”
“Understood.” Querrick replied, smiling, showing his own fangs, refusing to let Zidon intimidate him further.
Zidon simply laughed again. The sound reverberated off the walls as he made his way back to the airlock.
Querrick didn’t move until the airlock doors sealed, confirming that Zidon’s ship had detached. Once that happened, though, Querrick’s head rolled back, and he let out the heaviest sigh of relief he’d ever had.
Querrick had given them the good news. The Mythosaur was away in seconds, heading to an unknown star system. Sadra was busy trying to repair the ship as much as possible, but Knoll had other business. He first headed towards the cargo bay. Those crates were still a mystery he wanted solved.
As he tried to pry one open, though, he found the task far more difficult than he’d first anticipated. “Hey, Querrick, he called out behind him, mind giving me a hand?”
The response to this question was a light, distinct snoring sound.
Knoll turned around to find the Cathar unconscious, lying haphazardly in the makeshift hammock he’d made out of cargo netting when they first boarded the Mythosaur.
As he looked upon the child, it struck him just how much the Cathar was just that, still a child. He’d been forced into a life far harsher than Knoll could imagine, since practically birth. This forced him to grow up, far too fast, Knoll surmised. It also encased him in a harsh outer shell, so to speak. Querrick was always putting up a facade of a hardened war vet, and, perhaps it wasn’t so much a facade. But seeing him like this, deep in sleep, body twisted in a position that couldn’t possibly be comfortable, tongue lolling out, eyes closed yet still appearing exhausted… it showed the child beneath the shell. A child dealing with too much. Forced to take on the galaxy.
Just like so many others. So many suffered. So many suffered and died, because of him. Because of his work. He became a doctor to help others, and this was the culmination of his work. He gazed down at the barrels of BrJa and could only guess at how many millions of lives those barrels alone could destroy. He wished vehemently that he could just jettison the lot of them. But he knew that was not possible. He could only hope Querrick’s friends were taking them to an employer more noble than the Empire. But he doubted it.
Knoll shook his head in frustration. He had to do something. It was then that he realized there was something he could do. The person he’d been searching for, for so long, was in fact on this ship.
Knoll rushed to his medlab, and rifled through his belongings, until he found the datastick. He then headed towards Sirena’s quarters, and knocked once more.
“Dr. Din.” Sirena greeted him, “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to apologize for my actions earlier. I hope you weren’t hurt too badly.”
Knoll had to replay the chaotic day’s events in his head before he realized she was talking about when she forced him up against a wall. Now that the danger had passed, he could laugh it off, replying, “Not at all. No need for apologies, it was kind of fun. But, that’s not why I’m here.” He said, changing back to a serious tone. Holding up the datastick, he continued, “This datastick contains all my research notes regarding that neurotoxin. Everything I know about it, all the studies I conducted for it. Everything. I want you to take this with you, when you report to the Rebel Alliance. Ever since escaping the Empire, I’ve been looking for someone like you. Someone I could hand this wretched data off to. Someone who can make use of my horrid transgressions.”
“Dr. Din…” Sirena began, taking the datastick in hand, “You have nothing to feel guilty about. As you’d already explained, you didn’t know what your work was really doing. You were just a pawn of the Empire. You thought you were helping people. And with this, you will be helping people. More than you can imagine. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Sirena.” Knoll replied.
“Sadra.” Sirena began, after closing the door behind her, “I have a favor to ask of you. Only you can do this.”
“Of course, Sirena, what is it?” Sadra asked, concerned.
Sirena handed Sadra two datasticks, “These are copies of the datasticks I’ve acquired today, one Imperial, the other, from your friend, Knoll Din. They both contain a wealth of knowledge. Knowledge invaluable to the Alliance. These, combined with the exact coordinates of where the drop off is to occur are vital. If I don’t survive this mission, I’m leaving it to you to deliver the information to High Command.”
Sadra understood the request. Being a Rebel meant you never knew if you’d come back from a job. She took the datasticks in hand, and nodded, solemnly, saying, “I will do it. No matter what.”
Sirena nodded in return.
The next morning, Knoll found Querrick in the galley. His clothes and hair horribly disheveled, eyes bloodshot. “Ugh…” He moaned, holding tight to a glass of water, “How do you people drink that stuff?” Querrick asked, gesturing to the mostly empty bottle of Chandrilan Blue.
Knoll suppressed a laugh, and said, “Well, it helps if you don’t drink the whole bottle.”
“That was my glass.” Querrick pointed to the nearly untouched glass of spirits.
“I see.” Knoll replied, repressing another laugh, “Uh, listen, those crates, you think you could help me open one? I’d like to see what’s inside, if possible.”
Querrick let out another groan and said, “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.” stumbling slightly, as he got to his feet.
Knoll caught his shoulder and asked, “You sure you’re okay?”
Querrick shook his head, “Fine Doc, just… tired. Let’s go get your crate open.”
Knoll followed the Cathar, careful to catch him should the need occur. He assumed the stress of yesterday had a lot to do with it. But if that tiny amount of alcohol had really affected him that much, then Querrick was the lightest lightweight he’d ever seen. He’d have to keep an eye on him if they ever returned to Zeltros, that was for sure.
As they entered the cargo bay, Querrick approached one of the more dented crates, examined it for a minute, then pried it open effortlessly. So effortlessly, in fact, that Knoll was certain he’d be able to reseal it without anyone knowing it’d been opened in the first place.
“Well done, Querrick!” He praised him.
“Sure, sure.” Querrick replied, tiredly.
As Knoll peered into the open crate, he recognized the machines immediately. Bacta sprayers. At least, that’s what they looked like. Heavily modified bacta sprayers. Normally designed to coat wounded skin in healing bacta… but considering the modifications that were made, and the other supplies being shipped with them, Knoll could only guess the nefarious purposes for which these tools would be used.
“I’m glad your friends are planning to steal these things. All of this… I shudder to think what the Empire would do with them.”
“I wouldn’t be too relieved, Doc.” Querrick replied, sitting on a nearby empty cargo box, “My ‘friends’ aren’t picky about their employers.”
“True.” Knoll replied, halfhearted.
“Speaking of that, Doc.” Querrick continued.
“Yes?” He asked, noticing Querrick was looking down at the floor.
“Zidon, when he was here… he gave me some unexpected news.” Querrick continued, never looking up, “Apparently Balor… my buir… the guy I ran away from… he’s sick. I don’t know how bad it is, but bad enough that he hasn’t been able to get out and come find me himself. Which I was sure was what was going to happen after I made my escape…
“Anyway… I feel like I need to go see him… Make things right… And if he is sick… You’re a doctor…”
He was struggling to find the words, Knoll could see that much.
“I see.” Knoll replied, “Well, I’ll be happy to go with you, if that’s what you want. But, without knowing what kind of sick he is… I mean, I can’t promise anything.”
Querrick nodded, “Thanks Doc.”
Knoll gazed at the child for a brief moment more. So much suffering. He shook his head, and said, “You should probably get some more rest. Butter says we’ll reach the destination in another day. We’ll need you at your fittest by then.”
“Right.” Querrick nodded, heading back to his hammock.
“We’ll all need to be at our best.” Knoll whispered under his breath, wondering just what kind of Imperial death trap they were flying into next.
