Chapter Thirteen

Taylor had never seen a spaceship.

She’d seen them in cartoons, on old videos taken from way back before the Simurgh ruined any hopes of reaching out into space, from images of ships that some Tinkers had made that could hover above the Earth, but she had never seen an honest to god spaceship with her own two eyes.

She didn’t know if the ship sitting on a flat plateau of stone was typical, or if it was a mass-produced machine, she did know that it didn’t fit what she imagined a spaceship would look like.

It was a dull beige, as if the colour had been chosen by a panel of corporate stooges. Long and narrow, with a larger rear section from which a tall tail jutted out above. Four, almost insectile, legs held the ship in place above the sandy ground and a ramp lay unfolded from the ship’s side.

She already had a few bugs inspecting the interior and combing across rows of tight, probably uncomfortable benches. They found a few strange things. Robots of the sort that followed Sib Nark and a few non-humans. Most were armed, but none of them had the tense postures and ready stances she’d come to expect from people and creatures preparing for a fight.

“It’s a nice ship,” she said, even as she counted the benches with a few fliers.

“Comment: A passably usable transport vessel. Conjecture: No doubt the Neimoidian intends to use it to carry us to a more dignified vehicle before the local crime lords come to feast upon the town’s corpse.”

Taylor looked over her shoulder. The town was in flames. Not all of it, not much, even, but plumes of brackish smoke were rising into the cloudless sky and flames were eating away at some of the taller buildings.

A few whines from blasters zipped out of the city and into the sky, leaving red and green traces in their wake. The revolt was still in full swing, slaves freeing comrades and taking out their resentment on their captors in an orgy of violence she hadn’t seen since Leviathan’s passing.

Still, that only accounted for some of the slaves turned freedom fighters. The rest were walking behind her, a long row of humanity and alien life, cutting through the sand in rough rows towards the waiting ship. There was no way they would all fit in the first trip.

“How much room does Sib Nark’s ship have?” she asked HK-47.

Her erstwhile companion turned towards one of the few things that could live in her range without her taking it over. The droid was unarmed, probably to appease her, and stood on stick-thin legs inserted into a boxy body. Its head was vaguely dog-shaped, like an ancient jackal with two slits for eyes.

There was a quick conference and the droid touched something to the side of its head. The only words Taylor caught were the oft-repeated “Roger roger,” at the end of a sentence.

“Summary: Sib Nark’s ship, the Profits of Merchandising, is in orbit above us now. It has housing space for three hundred sentients and enough consumables to last for a two week trip with a group of that size.”

Taylor made a quick tally of the number of slaves behind them. “Ask if he can fit three times that number on reduced rations.”

While HK-47 spoke with the strange droid, she paused by the edge of a dune and allowed the sun to beat down on her head while she eyed those she had freed. Plenty had passed away in the fighting, taken out by collars or by the slavers they had been fighting against. Most, however, had lived.

She supposed that she should have been proud.

In the distance, nearly hidden by a plume of rising dust, was the Jawa Sandcrawler, the landship rolling away from the violence and destruction she had left in her wake. She hoped them the best.

“Comment: It seems that while Sib Nark is still just as obsequious as when we first met,” HK-47 began. “He is growing something of a backbone.”

“And why is that?” she asked as she turned away from the vista and started walking again. HK-47 and the droid followed.

“Reply: He suggests leaving the less valuable slaves behind in order to conserve space and comfort for those of actual value. Suggestion: Perhaps we could leave Sib Nark behind in order to exemplify why refusing your orders is a bad idea.”

Taylor snorted. “Tempting, but I don’t know anything about piloting a spaceship, and for all I know his droids and personnel are more loyal to him than they would be to me.” She shook her head. “Better to convince him that I’ll take care of the sla-- freedom fighters. If I can keep an eye on all of them I’m sure they’ll behave.”

“Compliment: Oh, master, your ability to scare people into submission is most attractive.” HK-47’s head scanned from left to right as they came closer to the ship. “Advisory: Sib Nark has suggested that we meet with one of the mercenaries he hired to serve as protection aboard his ship.”

“Oh?” Taylor asked. HK-47 raised one arm and pointed towards the ship.

There was a creature walking down the ramp, followed on both sides by a pair of droids identical to the ones Sib Nark had around him, though these carried small blaster rifles.

Taylor started moving closer until she was waiting a dozen meters from the base of the ramp. The creature stopped, raised his lizard-like snout into the air and gave it a sniff. He said something, then gave her a shallow bow.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

She turned to HK-47, one eyebrow perked.

“Translation: The lizard calls himself Skarsk Nek. It is a trandoshan, a species as resilient as they are stupid, with a penchant to forget that even though they are somewhat more difficult to kill than the average sentient, their so called resiliance does not make up for their lack of wits.”

Something from HK’s translation must have clued the Trandoshan about the robot’s rather lurid translation because he bristled and started talking faster, his Basic slurring with hisses.

“Additional Translation: This particular specimen seems to have a knack for understanding social cues. He suggested that I begin by telling you that, despite his young age and obvious lack of experience, he is the one that Sib Nark hired to protect his precious cargo. No doubt the cheap Neimoidian gave the contract to the lowest bidder.”

Taylor nodded and eyed the lizard up and down. Skarsk’s attention snapped back to her and his eyes narrowed. “Tell him that we have a lot of slaves to transport to Sib Nark’s ship. Remind him that I would disapprove of Sib Nark leaving first as that might send the wrong message. And remind him that we are in something of a hurry. I don’t know how long it’ll take before Nimas’ friends decide to start snooping and I for one am not equipped to take on anyone that has spaceships at their disposal.”

It was a gnawing fear in her gut, that someone would just drop a bomb on them all from above. An army she could handle, as long as it was made of living, breathing people. She had a chance. But against creatures that had literal spaceships she was completely out of her depth.

More conversation ensued and Taylor stood in the steaming heat, her determination to learn Basic growing by the minute even as she tried to get a sense for the language. Soon enough HK-47 was done with his subtle threats and turned back to her.

“Assessment: Perhaps the Trandoshan has more wits than the many, many members of his species I gutted, eviscerated, sliced and otherwise killed over the past few centuries. It seems as though he is willing to work with us.”

Taylor nodded. “Tell him that it’ll be a pleasure to work with him.”

HK-47 said something that didn’t sound like it carried the same intent as her words, not judging by the way the lizardman’s already pale complexion paled even further.

It didn’t matter, as long as she got what she wanted.

***

“You cannot just give this woman anything she asks for,” the tinny voice said. “We are not the servants of the Jedi. We are the Trade Federation.”

Sib Nark bowed to the hologram. “I understand, Lead Banker Bee'n Conta,” he said. “But as I said, this Jedi killed all of Nimas’ guards and the Hutt herself. She is dangerous, and double crossing her might be unwise.”

It was difficult, he knew from experience, to convince the members of the board to listen to reason. Unfortunately he was still a few unfortunate accidents away from being promoted to a position where he would have more freedom to make his own choices.

The twenty one holograms floating before him were all coming in with various levels of poor reception. That was too bad. It made it all the harder for them to take his words seriously. “The Falleen are freed, and as soon as they and some other select slaves are aboard my ship we will be leaving Hutt space. Not bringing the jedi with us would complicate matters with the Falleen.”

“Couldn’t you just kill her?” Brux Chadrad asked. He was a Geonosian and new to the council and to his position as Security Advisor. “You have droids, don’t you?”

“Merely early models of the OOM series, and only a few hundred at that,” Sib Nark said.

“Wouldn’t that be enough to take care of one jedi?” the Geonosian asked. His wings fluttered out behind him, disappearing into a static fuzz.

He shook his head. “Darth Khepri proved herself very capable,” Sib Nark began. “I do not think such a small number of defun--”

“What did you call her?” Sib Nark would usually have been insulted by the interruption, but Nute Gunray was important enough that the usual niceties did not apply. In fact, until then the current viceroy of the Trade Federation had been more focused on a datapad and with talking to assistants that moved in and out of his muted hologram. “What did you call the jedi?” he demanded.

Sib Nark bowed again, deeper this time. “Darth Khepri is the name given by her... protocol droid. May I enquire as to if she is known to you?”

“You will do everything in your power to accommodate the... jedi. Bring her to Falleen if you must. She may be of great interest to the Trade Federation in the future. That is all.” The Viceroy’s hologram blinked out, leaving the rest of the council floundering for a moment.

There was something of a pause while the other members shifted gears. Finally, Lead Banker Bee'n Conta cleared his throat. “Seeing as how your current mission has taken on a somewhat more important role in matters, it might be advisable for your lone vessel to acquire a bit more leeway. I shall see to freeing up more discretionary funds to be used in order to secure your most precious cargo,” the banker smiled.

Bee’n Conta only ever smiled that way when there was something afoot and he wanted in on it.

Sib Nark wasn’t quite certain what had just happened, but he could smell the profit already.

***