The Fool’s Journey: A Star Wars Story (3)
Episode Three Heaven of Alloy
Their small craft was welcomed by a crew of red, skeletal droids with a single eye. One, slightly larger than the others, beckoned the shuttle with two illuminated batons. Tam remarked how she did not need anyone to tell her how to land her ship.
Kaz was first to exit through the cargo bay. He had only been on TIL-03 once before, and though his experience was brief, it was markedly unpleasant. Wegil followed him with the remaining two soon after while the R9 unit remained inside as interim guardianship.
The four inspected the dimly lit station with scowls upon their faces: scant buildings, mostly strips of identical motels and one large dome that Kaz had claimed was a gambling hall. Near the landing bay, an administrative office was tucked aside and almost blended into the ubiquitous grey landscape.
Wegil scratched his left cheek with a long and uneven pinky nail. “I could think of three other waystations that would be more comfortable than this one, and one is Hutt controlled.”
The door to the administrative building unsealed with a hiss and revealed from within a droid of overtly feminine build. Tam tucked her brow, her mouth gaping. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
A short walk was necessary before the strange specimen could be within range to speak to the group. Unease filled Vrina as he made out a Humanoid face with a half-rusted body. Her joints creaked with each step, though artificial confidence practically exhumed from the droid. Her hips swung with every gait and she held a similarly coquettish posture as she stopped to greet them.
“Welcome to Tillo-Three, where all of your ship and crew’s needs can be met with a smile. I am Operator em-ee-nine-five.” The voice that rattled from her seemingly punctured speech modulator unnerved each of them. “Of which services do you request?”
Tam was the only one who could muster the strength to speak. “Emmy? Uh, well, our ship is damaged. Specifically—”
“Scan complete. All major systems of your ship are functioning at near capacity. All damage is surface and can be mended within a half-cycle. Would you like to use this time to take advantage of our luxury suites and top-of-the-line game hall?”
The pilot exchanged a quick shrug with her captain. Kaz said, “Sure. Are there enough rooms for each of us?”
“Yes, and at a cutthroat rate of one-hundred-and-fifty credits per night.”
The Zabrak cackled while the two Humans stressed. “I’ve got this. Consider it a gift.” He stepped forward and drew an account card from a pouch on his belt. The droid stared at the object and chirped as if thinking.
“I am unable to process cards. Credits are preferred.”
Kaz’s face flushed crimson. He blinked and tried his best to avoid turning to Tam, whose hip was cocked and arms were crossed. “I told you,” she hissed.
“I know,” he said. After a shallow exhale, he stepped forward and dismissed Wegil with a tap on the shoulder. “You wouldn’t happen to have something that’s, erm, not so luxurious?”
The femme droid clicked twice before responding. “Absolutely. Allow me to guide you to what we refer to as our ‘basic accommodations’.”
Wegil bumped Vrina with his elbow and whispered, “Why do I have a feeling this is going to be significantly less than basic?”
“I have a feeling you’re going to be right.”
A navy-blue custodian droid marched in front of a row of stout cylinders, each large enough to potentially house all four of the guests. The rattling Emmy slowed to a stop and gestured to a heavy iron door. “Your access code is zero-three-six-nine. Please register this to your memory as I am not authorized to repeat sensitive information.”
Vrina cracked a smile. “Hey. I’m so sorry, but what was that code again?” The droid crooked her neck to stare at the Mikkian, but a loud, repetitive clicking accompanied her completely still body. This pleased the Zabrak who approached the droid with curiosity painting his face.
“Seems you broke her, clown.”
He pulled back his head wrap to scratch just under where it rested on his crown.
Kaz stepped past Wegil and prodded the access pad, but each button was stiff and unresponsive. An obnoxious honk resounded from a surprisingly tiny speaker.
“Are you putting in the right code?” The shuttle’s pilot leaned in to inspect the pad.
“Yes, Tam. Let me just try again.” After another round of struggling, the same alarm blared once more. The femme droid broke from her glitch to turn to the bearded man, startling the Zabrak.
Her voice strained from the modulator and progressively lost volume as she spoke: “If you have issues entering your room, you can make your way to the main administration…”
Tam pressed the palm of her hand into her forehead. “This is among the top five worst experiences I’ve ever had. I’d rather be target practice for pirates.”
Shaking his head, the smile that settled on Kaz’s face gradually dissipated as he looked past the three and back to the landing pads. “That’s… Eerie. Tam.” He pointed his finger to two identical ships that lowered on either side of their shuttle.
She fumbled with her comlink. “Are-Nine?” It responded gleefully. “Can you scan those incoming ships? What do you mean there’s nothing to scan?”
Kaz spoke into his device as well. “Do you mean that comms are jammed?” The droid whistled back, its tone irritated. “They must have a way to scramble their signal, too. But theirs…”
“It won’t settle on another signature. It’s complete nonsense.”
Wegil thumbed his nose. “Hate to interject, but those ships are either pirates or you’ll have your first taste of the eff-ess-ess. Just one blaster?” He scratched his chest and clicked his tongue. The pilot clenched her fists.
“This could be good for us,” she said through her teeth. “After all, they have no idea who we are. They could see our ship and think it’s genuinely here for repairs.”
Vrina’s mouth parted, another strange headache seeping into his skull. He listened to the others banter for a moment before turning to the Zabrak, who bounced an expression of equal discomfort. “Wegil, did you contact anyone to tell them where you are?”
Both Humans spun to face the horned man. Tam drew her blaster, a sleek but humble DL-18. Its narrow barrel found itself locked onto the tense Zabrak. She asked, “Well? Did you?”
Kaz redirected himself to the ships yet spoke to the group in a stale tone. “That makes sense. There’s no way you were still unconscious during our escape from Coruscant. You could have hacked our hyperdrive coordinates and we would never know. We used your body to launch a crate—there’s no way you were still asleep.”
“You what?” Tam blinked and turned to acknowledge her captain. In that instant, Wegil lunged forward and struck the woman’s wrist with pointed knuckles and followed up with a push. Kaz growled and hopped forward to interject the attack but his punch was deflected with a flexed bicep.
The pilot reconstituted herself, crouched, and took aim. The Zabrak twisted his body to extend a leg with as much force as he could muster. His heel collided with the woman’s head and she yelped while crumbling backwards. Kaz shouted her name and brought up either wrist to shield himself from a series of quick attacks. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Vrina sprint to the pilot’s weapon.
Kaz’s knee rose into Wegil’s gut and the bearded man did not hesitate to detach himself to drop a heavy kick into his right ankle. After falling to the ground, a circular blue beam struck the Zabrak in the small of his back. The man thanked Vrina under his breath and rushed to his companion’s side. “Tam, are you okay?”
She opened up one eye, and then the other. Her captain helped her to her feet. Tam grimaced and felt her forehead. Wegil had managed to break skin. “He was… More of a threat than I thought. Where’s—”
The bearded man beckoned Vrina over and he obeyed after a moment of hesitation. Tam thanked him and requested her weapon’s return. “Oh, yeah.” He turned over the blaster and she slipped it back into her holster.
Tam frowned and broke from Kaz’s brace. “What do we do with him?”
After a moment of deliberation, the Mikkian spoke up. “If he’s in with the Federation, we could maybe use him as a bargaining chip?”
“We?”
He raised either hand and backed up. “I mean—you. You two can do that.”
Kaz hummed. “Vrina Hon, are you willing to work with us for the remainder of this mission?” He received a nasty glance from Tam, but he chose to ignore her. “Know that your tooka may have to go a few more hours without eating.”
He scratched the back of his neck and pouted. “He is kind of chunky…” Vrina sighed and looked up to face both. “Okay. Sure. Just tell me what to do.”
The pilot had been crouched next to the idle body of Wegil while the comedian and her companion spoke. She pulled a small device from his waistband. “This must be what he used to contact the eff-ess-ess.” Tam rotated the conical object in her hand and the two inspected it with blank stares. “Oh well.” In the next instant, her fist tightly enclosed to crush it.
Upon opening her hand, several pieces of metal fell from her palm and littered the ground next to the Zabrak’s unconscious body. Vrina asked, “Do we try to sneak our way back to the ship?”
“I’d say we just toss him off a platform and get it over with.” She grazed her forefingers over the still-bleeding scar on her forehead and seethed.
Kaz stroked his chin before speaking into the comlink. “Are-Nine, are we fit to get out of here?” It chirped back with a positive affection. “Can you try to get them out, then?” He turned to Vrina and filled him in: several maintenance droids were still on-board. The Mikkian could not prevent himself from grinning. “What’s so funny?”
He shook his head to dismiss the question and Tam pat her hands clean. She examined the somewhat distant landing bay with a careful eye. “I can spot a handful of figures from here. Whether or not they’re armed… In any case, we’re outnumbered and outgunned.” Then, to Kaz: “We’re completely banking on the fact that they don’t know who we are, what we look like, and what our business is. If Are-Nine did his job, we should look innocent enough to slip away unnoticed.”
Vrina cut the bearded man off. “They’ll notice the carbon scoring before anything else.”
“That’s what I was going to say,” Kaz nodded to the Mikkian. “Plus, there’s only one ship here. If these people truly are attempting to establish a government from the shadows, they’re not dumb. We have to be prepared to run or fight.”
“With one blaster?” He shook his head.
Tam raised the DL-18 and raised her eyebrows. “I’m a damn good shot, Vrina Hon.”
The gravelly voice of Wegil knocked each of them off-kilter. “So are they.” He kept his face pressed against the cold cement even as Tam pointed the weapon to him.
She growled, “I’m taking this thing off of stun.”
“Now, wait a moment,” Wegil insisted with a clever smirk. “They know me. You have two potentials and one almost certainly results in your death.”
Kaz shook his head when Tam readied her weapon in a ploy to execute the vigilante club owner. “I can only guess. What do you have in mind? No, stay on the ground.”
The Zabrak became still just as he motioned to push himself up from the ground. “As you wish. I’ll skip to the good part: if you three meet the officers and introduce yourself as an interested party, then we can be free to exit this station unharmed. Since you’ve already scrambled your shuttle’s signature, they won’t have a way to trace any previous routes.”
A heaviness settled onto the group as each of them considered this. Vrina reminded the pilot that she had very little time to decide and it was probably best for her to holster her weapon. “If these guys see you pointing a blaster at their contact—”
She cursed under her breath and agreed with a hasty unequip. Kaz followed through by helping Wegil to his feet, each muscle tensed in preparation to retaliate. He dusted himself off and slowly walked off in the direction of the landing bay. The droid, Emmy, trailed behind them.
With a shudder, the Mikkian said, “What is this thing doing?”
Wegil looked back and grinned. “She can’t speak, anyway. I’d wager to say it makes our plan that much more legitimate. Come now, at least pretend to be interested in what they have to say.”
The pilot asked through her teeth, “How are you even standing right now?” A breathy laugh expressed through the horned man’s nostrils. She rolled her eyes.
A short expanse of stairs connected to a wide platform housing their shuttle and two larger, much more expensive ships. Tam caught herself admiring the weaponry and cleared her throat to refocus. After a brief wave to the Federation officers, the two parties met up.
Six were present with ostensibly more still hidden in their ships. They wore similar outfits, white tunics and matching slacks—all of which were form fitting and sleek. Four of the representatives were women. Their hair was mowed into a buzzcut, exaggerating their otherwise gentle features that appeared marred by a certain experience none of them shared.
“Commander Isten,” Wegil greeted the shortest woman. “I never thought I’d see you out of your office.”
“It’s nice to stretch my legs.” Her tone was deadpan, unmalleable even as she spoke to those behind him. “This is quite a haul. Whatever you’re doing to convince people of our cause, never stop. The droid, too?”
Each turned to face the stiff and rusted Emmy. The Zabrak turned back to Isten and shook his head, a calm smile planted on his face. “The droid works here. As much as I believe I’ve done an excellent job, it may be beneficial to hear the Federation’s mission statement from its source. Care to take it away, Commander?”
She nodded once. “Our goal is to have a universal presence among each civilized planet, to establish a perfect and functional trade network without the cumbersome element of excess taxation. Each planet will know what the other has and will order accordingly. There will be no more unnecessary bureaucracy. There will be only abundance.”
Though Kaz’s throat was tight, he managed to squeeze out a question. “The difference between the Republic and the Federation is—”
“Transparency. Locals will not be permitted to join the Federation. This ensures that outside ideals will not pollute the already efficient think tank we have spent decades constructing.”
“I see. What will be the role of, say, Jedi?”
Isten’s posture did not change, but Vrina felt a spike of irritation when she raised her chin. “That’s a curious question. Since we’re exchanging curiosities, may I enquire about the damage your shuttle has taken? Small arm scoring and quite a considerable amount of it. I wasn’t aware one could make so much trouble coming from Dantooine.”
The commander waited for the group to process her question, but Wegil was quick to respond with enough confidence to at least steady his companion’s nerves. “There has been an increased presence of pirates since—”
Once again, the woman jumped to cut their speech short. “Since Exegol and the rumored revival of the Jedi. I know there is a temple on Dantooine. You,” she nodded to Kaz who felt his body freeze. “What is your name and occupation?”
He attempted to remember the disguise he chose for this mission: simple black garments, a tight belt, newer boots without much scuffing. “Kazuda Krishan,” he lied. Wegil noted how he chose to stick with his first name and hoped that the other two were just as wise. “Senior mechanic from Dantoo Town.”
Behind Isten, a man with a yellow ribbon tightly wound around his neck unveiled a palm-sized tablet from his pants pocket. She kept quiet while the man hurriedly tapped the screen. Wegil mentally weighed his options and attempted to adjust his demeanor when he felt the woman’s gaze envelope him.
The man spoke up: “No records for Kazuda Krishan. Three-hundred-seventy-four recorded entities with the surname Krishan, four-hundred-one recorded entities with the first name Kazuda.” He paused, seemingly for effect. “Zero of which resides on the planet Dantooine.”
Isten raised her eyebrows. “There appears to be some discrepancies, Mister Geun. The Federation of All Systems wish only to be involved with those who prize transparency and honesty. One down, two to go. You.”
Each nerve in Vrina’s body became lit as she felt her cold glare fall onto him.
“What is your full name and occupation?”
“Um,” he looked to both Wegil, then the beet-red Kaz. “My name is Vrina Hon, with an ‘o’, and I’m a stand-up comedian from Coruscant.”
“Where in Coruscant?”
He blinked once. “Galactic City. No need for comedians in The Works.” The group watched the woman break a smirk. Once again, the man behind her began to run calculations on his tablet. This time, the search was considerably quicker.
“This identity checks out, ma’am,” he nodded. “Photo and all.”
She hummed, pleased. “Well, then. We have one who is willing to tell the truth. Now, there are a myriad of possibilities running through my mind at the moment. You might be the ringleader of this group,” Isten paused to assess the group as a whole. Tam’s nostrils flared. “Or she may be. Name and occupation?”
The pilot rendered her teeth as an impenetrable gate. Her eyes were hard as they fought against the prodding examination of the Federation commander. After a few tense moments, Isten shrugged her right shoulder. “No matter. I have no power over any of you, so if you do not feel compelled to give us information, so be it. Wegil, I am afraid a majority of your haul will not be useful to our cause. You see,” she took in a deep breath and addressed each member one-by-one. “The Federation of All Systems is in an exciting phase where we are looking to fill many slots in our communications and engineering department.”
Tam exhaled a short, harsh breath. “This was an interview? We’re not interested.”
“None of you? Not even you, Vrina Hon with an ‘o’?” Commander Isten crossed her arms. He felt a subtle ache flit about his skull. “Where do your skills lie other than telling jokes? I can see that you are honest and full of integrity. Can you fly?”
“N-no. Pretty useless on that front. Typically, I just walk everywhere.”
Wegil stepped into the conversation with a slow swipe of the hand. “At least the news can spread organically this way. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me.”
Isten looked past the horned man and to the Mikkian. “I was not finished. Since you are an honest individual, let me try to clear up something that’s been weighing on me: what exactly happened in Gil’s Gab?”
The Zabrak choked on a hard swallow and visibly tensed. “Commander Isten, there’s no need to ask anybody but me about my club.”
“Go on, then. Explain to me why two of my captains were in your club when it was attacked by a rogue company of terrorists? Explain to me why you are with them now, still?”
Each of the five officers behind her drew their weapons: compact blaster rifles of a model nobody in the group could identify. Tam felt the impulse to reach for her blaster, but Kaz reached out to touch her arm. She understood that this would be the move that ended her life. With unshakeable confidence, he said, “My name is Kazuda Xiono, son of Hamato Xiono.”
Isten smiled. “I know. Go on.”
He creased his brow and hesitated to continue. The officers’ weapons did not waver, each of them dedicated to one member of the group—including the confused Emmy.