16: The Cloud City Operation
CLOUD CITY
TIBANNA GAS COLONY
FLOATING ABOVE THE CLOUDS OF THE GAS GIANT BESPIN
Except for the floor, the lounge in the front lobby of Cloud City Coin was made entirely of glass. Not even transparisteel, just clear glass. Even the domed ceiling was transparent. It afforded a panoramic view of the churning clouds that surrounded the city, and allowed the full spectrum of light of Bespin’s sun to pour in. Hej Zumter sat in a plush repulsor chair waiting for his money to clear. There were service droids waddling and rolling all about the lounge, serving drinks for other important business-beings waiting to speak to a banking agent about some transfer or opening a business account.
The air in here smelled sterile, lots of cleaning chemicals had been used to keep the place spotless. The floor was pure compristeel, and because it was coated in a substance that resisted stains, it gleamed. The entire place had the look of an efficiently run Moff’s office. No one would suspect that Cloud City Coin was used in transferring countless sums of illicit credits from one part of the galaxy to the other. How many other people sat here before me, right here in this same seat, with acid in their stomach, worrying about a final transfer before they went on the run?
Hej Zumter imagined there had been many in his exact position before. Men and women of all species running from Hutt cartels they had funneled money from and stored in the physical and digital vaults of Cloud City Coin. Smugglers who had to channel their ill-gained loot into accounts that were untouchable (or at the very least ignored) by the Empire way out here in the Outer Rim. Bounty hunters would also find a key resource in Cloud City Coin, since some of their bounties were often illegal, barely more than kidnapping jobs for Black Sun or some dark anonymous client. They had to hide all that reward money somewhere, lest it become a trail for law enforcement officials or, heavens forbid, any friends or family of their victims, looking to settle the scoree.
And speaking of bounty hunters, here came three such customers now.
“You’re late,” Zumter said.
“Why did you want to meet in the lobby of a kriffing bank?” hissed Tyr. The Trandoshan’s scales rippled and his thin lips pulled back, exposing jagged yellow teeth that, according to reputation, had been around the throats of more than one of his targets.
“I’m sure you’re used to Cloud City Coin’s services.”
“I don’t usually walk inside the blasted lobby,” Tyr growled.
“Why don’t you sit down, Tyr? Your friends, too.”
Tyr’s pals were a green-skinned, heavily-scarred Rodian named Ockio, and a light-skinned, blond Human named Rezzint, both of them male, and both of them bulky and with dead-faced stares. They had holsters at their side, but they were empty, as the security droids at the bank’s entrance would have confiscated any weapons before allowing them to enter.
“We sit once we’re interested in what’s being discussed,” Tyr said. His Basic was strained and guttural at times, like it disgusted him to have to use the language. “And not before.”
Zumter sighed and leaned back in his repulsor chair. He adjusted the height so that it would levitate him up to about eye level with the Trandoshan. “You don’t know how happy I was to see that you and your crew happened to be on Cloud City.”
“The Empire is busy out this way,” Tyr said. “We came to answer a bounty on a ship called the Millennium Falcon. Apparently, it’s floating around out here somewhere and may have a certain princess on board.”
Zumter said nothing. He could tell the bounty hunter was tossing out bait, looking to see what he could fish out of an IIS commander. Their relationship had been a lucrative one in years past. Tyr had often passed intel along to members of the Service, giving up leads that would have served his Bounty Hunters’ Guild better. His actions were against Guild rules, but so far the clever Trandoshan had been able to keep himself above suspicion from his fellow Guildmembers. “I’m not here about that.”
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Obviously. Or else you wouldn’t be in this place, offering what you’re offering.” Tyr’s lips pulled back more, in an almost lascivious grin. “What are you offering, exactly? The details of your message were pretty vague, you did not even name a price.”
Zumter’s datapad was in his hand, and he tapped a few keys, then showed the datapad’s screen to Tyr and his guys. “That’s him. That’s your target. The payment is double what we usually offer for actionable intel.” The image was of Ageless Void, the day he had graduated from advanced darktrooper training at Garang. No other picts or vids were kept on file of any agent, so this one would have to do. Fortunately, Ageless, as his codename implied, still looked very young, and almost exactly as he had the day he graduated.
Tyr’s yellow eyes narrowed. “There is no name on this file.”
“Names don’t matter, since he will undoubtedly be using an alias. He’s also gifted at disguise, and though he’s a Zabrak he may have ways of hiding his horns—hats, wigs, that sort of thing. He’ll likely have a scar on his head. One of the horns on his crown is noticeably broken in half.”
“Will he have friends?”
“Unknown.”
“What ship is he on?”
“I cannot say.”
“What can you tell me?”
Zumter had to think. He wasn’t even clear that Ageless would find a way off Hoth, but if he did, he would surely be gunning for his former commanding officer and mentor. There was no doubt in Zumter’s mind. He had read the report of the PV-17 psychological evaluator droid countless times, and knew Ageless Void’s mind inside and out, but even more importantly he had had innumerable conversations with the young Zabrak, fresh off his final deployment as a darktrooper. He recalled a troubled young man, dealing with occasional bouts of rage at the memories of friends dying beside him in combat. They had shared drinks, dinner, thoughts on the future of the galaxy. It had never become a friendship, but a camaraderie had been built between Zumter and Ageless, especially once the young Zabrak went off to the Nest for training and conditioning.
The day Ageless Void became operational was one of Hej Zumter’s proudest days in the Service. His work, along with Director Abaca’s, had finally shown fruits. He still recalled receiving word of Ageless’s first success, the assassination of a key Rebel general on Phaeda. It had been a major hit to the Rebellion, and all but assured their retreat from that region of space. Ageless’s gifts at decapitation strikes became a core mechanic of the Kingdom’s work, the basis from which all other work stemmed. At least for the first few years.
His mind peeled back the years, and he saw all the work he had done, all the steps he and Abaca had taken to develop the Kingdom’s contacts and sources throughout the galaxy, their elaborate scheme to undermine a Rebellion that had been growing day by day. And we almost stopped it. We almost cut out the cancer of rebellion before it took root.
But then came a downturn. Protests and riots on Malastare, sympathizers rising up on Denon and Corellia, successful hit-and-fade attacks along major trade routes, ambushes along backwater hyperlanes. The crumbling had begun. The report he’d intercepted from the Muuns about the Faith-index had shattered any belief he had left in the Kingdom.
It meant he had to leave. And that meant he had to kill his protégé. But Zumter had failed, and had approved of Abaca’s plan to send Horizon Lost—Sark. He gave it even odds that Ageless had survived this far.
“I can tell you he is highly trained,” Zumter told the bounty hunters. “More skilled than anyone else you’ve ever hunted, I can promise you that. He’s one of ours. Was. An operator who has killed more people than the three of you combined. If he detects you on his trail, if he suspects you for even a second, you won’t feel the knife until it is buried in your throat.”
Tyr grinned again, and hissed delightedly. “Sounds fun.”
“He may not even come this way. He may not even be alive. If he is alive, though, you need to disappear him. You’ll get double. You’ll get half pay even if he doesn’t show. I just need you and any local assets you have to be on the lookout, and contact me the instant you see him.” He looked at Tyr’s two pals. “Do you have any more people you can use?”
“Three more,” Tyr said.
“Activate them. And make sure they know the threat level they’re dealing with.” Zumter looked out the huge windows, at the setting sun. Darkness was falling over Cloud City. The sun set fire to the clouds, created a crimson ribbon on the distant, gaseous horizon. He wondered how many parsecs he would have to run, truly. How far did he have to go to be sure Ageless Void would never find him?
“Commander?” Tyr said.
Zumter was suddenly aware the Trandoshan had been talking. He looked around at him, and noticed Tyr was sitting down now. “Yes?”
“I told you I only sit once I’m interested. Well, here I am. Interested.” Tyr’s reptilian tongue ran over his fangs like he was staring at a long-anticipated meal. “What would you like us to do the with the body?” The Trandoshan was bold to speak so openly in public like this. But Zumter imagined such talk wasn’t entirely uncommon in here.
He sighed and looked back at the sunset. “Do whatever you like,” he said. “But whatever you decide to do with it, don’t tell me.” Zumter shivered. A deep and unexpected sadness fell over him. “I don’t want to know.”