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The
Meeting 2002 short story by Louis Turfrey, Paul Squire and Mark
Newbold Thirty-seven years after Episode
IV – A New Hope My name is Critchek Skumul. I am on special assignment for Galactic
Alliance Intelligence. My target is Jan Lomona, owner of a large haulage
operation called the Trac-Tran Transit Company: a collection of regular
freight captains and contracted Free Traders running throughout the Setnin
Sector and beyond. Setnin isn’t the
only place where Free Trader is synonymous with smuggler, and though no
records reside in Coruscant to incriminate this particularly successful
A-desandian entrepreneur, rumours have always abounded about this particular
man and his starship, the Berone Sunrise. What piques my professional interest in Lomona is his
dossier, especially the pre-New Republic records. They’re conspicuous by
their lack of detail, especially the years the Empire’s Imperial Intelligence
and ISB were active in Setnin. Neither organisation was known for skimping on detail, and
I can only guess at the connections this man had, or has, with influential
people to make his name disappear so efficiently from records. Does someone in the Galactic Alliance owe this man
something for past deeds, or was he closer to the Empire? Given my assignment, I’m not sure which scenario I like
least, but I put these thoughts aside for another time. For now, I’m here to watch. And assess. I sit less than three tables away from Lomona as he
lunches with his daughter, Paige Centaur. He seems relaxed, as does she, but
it’s all an act. I’m sure what I’ve
pieced together so far only scratches the surface, but I’d bet my badge that
they’re involved in a scam to launder an obscene amount of money. These two have nerves as cool as ice, and I
remind myself again of the unsubstantiated stories that surrounded
like-minded people, like Cipple, Dressel, Mister Spyte and the other once
all-powerful Setnin crime lords and their henchmen. It’s a story as wicked and corrupt as any
I’ve heard about the Hutts. Among the
many questions that remain are; how much money are these two planning to
launder, for whom, and from where? I order myself another cup of hot chav, and watch them
through the steam of my newly arrived drink.
I can’t make out their words, I’m too far away and the crowd in
Zythlies is starting to fill out, in both the bar and restaurant. This close
to the Borden Space Lane, even though only newly reopened for business, the
Garyra Station is a popular stopover for spacers in this war torn sector. Still, with my telepathic talent I can just about pick up
their emotions, though the proximity of so many beings dilutes the
feelings. They are both apprehensive,
and yet excited, especially Paige Centaur. Maybe she isn’t as hardened to the underworld as her
father, but then I’m always too quick to make excuses for women. It’s one of my failings, ever since Tahlyina, and I loose my thoughts in her beautiful memory
just for a moment. It’s a moment too long and as I refocus, all I see is Jan
Lomona sitting alone. I
chide myself, and I’m left with a dilemma.
Do I leave and follow the daughter, or stay watching the father? I could miss something vital, but with who…? Lomona’s
eyes sweep the restaurant, and I blur my vision, focusing on my half empty
cup of chav. If I think myself small,
I’ll look less conspicuous. It’s a
skill taught in the basic espionage classes at NRI, and I blend into the
crowd. I
don’t pick anything suspicious up from the A-desandian, but that is no
guarantee that he hasn’t clocked me, so I count slowly to two hundred, finish
my drink, and head out of Zythlies, check that I’m not being followed, and
head back to my ship. If the
resources of the Galactic Alliance weren’t so stretched, they’d be a whole
NRI team here backing me up. We’d have
technical experts, scanning for bugs and traces and planting plenty of our
own. Several agents would be around
the target at all times, blending into the crowd and playing invisible tag
with each other, ensuring that the team as a whole always had two eyes
squarely fixed on the target and everyone that came into contact with
him. Analysts would be running
continue checks on our databases, matching history and profiles. I’d also have a full team of Special Forces
available in case things turned nasty.
When running an Op against gangsters, it’s my opinion that you can
never have too much firepower to back you up. However,
this was just me, and it was about time I filed my report and let my
superiors know I was still alive. It
was just as well that I did, considering who I saw from my ship’s cockpit. Terrie
Saffra was a very attractive woman.
Dark haired, chocolate brown eyes and a seriously trim figure, she was
a hard woman to miss. She was also the
commander of Squadron Indigo, the Setnin Sector’s crack Galactic Alliance
X-Wing fighter squadron, and she was walking away from the half-finished
space yacht, the Pleasure Seeker, the de-facto HQ of the Iron Claw
mercenary organisation on this station. Was
this an innocent coincidence? Instinct
told me otherwise, and my fears were confirmed as I followed her back into
Zythlies and to the table of Jan Lomona. The
thought that Lomona’s nefarious schemes seemed to involve one of theGalactic Alliance’s crack fighter squadrons…? My stomach started to churn. I wouldn’t have thought that an officer in
such an honoured position as Saffra would have even entertained the idea of
associating with someone like Lomona, but then I picked up her feelings. They were so strong it was easy to read,
and see, how she was being manipulated.
Love is a terrible force, and the cruellest, most devastating weapon
if used skilfully. Obviously Lomona
included such skilful manipulation amongst his talents, and my lips curled up
in revulsion at his lack of morals. It was
no surprise that my superiors had assigned me to this case, and the hairs at
the back of my neck started to rise as I realised exactly how important and
dangerous an assignment this was. Then
Lomona’s daughter Paige returned, this time with her husband in toe, and the
pieces started to fall into place.
Ryath Centaur is an anomaly to me. An ex-Imperial colonel, who chose
to defect and start a personal vendetta of revenge, his life has been
coloured by his warped sense of justice. Although in his sixties he still
looked a healthy, active man, yet his long-standing friend Lomona looked
better preserved. But then
A-desandians are one of the longer-lived human species. They have a natural resistance to alcohol,
which reduces with age, so if you see a drunken A-desandian he will likely be
older than eighty standard galactic years. But
I’m troubled by this meeting. There
sit potentially four of the most influential characters in the sector. Perhaps they’re simply friends and family,
catching up on old times, but my instincts and training won’t allow me to
throw such an optimistic bent on the occasion. No, something’s afoot, and my superiors
placed me in the position of discovering just what that is. And I will. I need
to evaluate the situation. Centaur is
an Iron Claw, leader of the largest of many mercenary forces working in
Setnin right now, profiting from pain and misery. His wife is Paige Centaur, who my files
tell me had a large part in Iron Claw business and also ran the Trac-Tran
Transit Company in her fathers’ absence, her father being Jan Lomona,
legendary smuggler who is also Ryath Centaurs father-in-law. I also know that Paige and Commander Saffra
are friends of many years standing, but how these two came to be so close my
records don’t tell me. And the
connection between Lomona and Saffra?
I could think it was nothing more than callous manipulation on
Lomona’s part. He’s a skilled
romantic, and has a reputation for being a lothario. I wouldn’t doubt that he could charm almost
any woman to do what he wanted. No,
this situation calls for closer scrutiny.
I need to watch their activities for longer, get a full dossier back
to my superiors so they can assess and make preparations. Whatever the plan is, I don’t like seeing
Commander Saffra associate herself with such…lowlifes. They
all rise and walk towards the exit. I finish my chav, giving them a few
seconds to get ahead of me, and rise from my chair. My training screams at me to follow
covertly, but I may have been spotted.
Before my days in the Galactic Alliance, before the New Republic, I
was a noted investigator, and it’s not beyond reason that I might be
recognised. Besides, I know where
they are heading and I’m in no rush to follow them, although duty compels me
to. The
docking bay where the Berone Sunrise sits seems smaller when occupied
by the bulk of the specialist stock heavy freighter. It has room for two
other craft, one of which is my small scout cruiser. I manage to arrive at
the bay before Lomona and his group, boarding my ship before they enter the landing
area, my ramp closing against the cool air of the Garyra Station. I’m no
great fan of this station, it’s far too heavily populated by underworld types
for my liking, but it’s a vital location in Galactic Alliance spy operations
and so I must swallow my prejudices and get on with the job. My
clearance to leave is pre-arranged, and resting on my repulsors I boost the
engines and carefully steer through the gap in the shield. My scanners
monitor the docking bay as I track up and away from the station, slipping
into an orbit. The Berone Sunrise follows two minutes later and boosts
away at maximum burn. I prime the
engines of my scout cruiser and set my systems to track the probable location
of their jump point, using a number of the many covert Galactic Alliance
beacons and tracking devices that have been laid throughout the Setnin Sector
during this seven year conflict and the unobtrusive tracking beacon I had
carefully secreted on the hull a few short hours before, dodging Lomona’s old
droid in the process. As reticent as
the Galactic Alliance has been in getting directly involved, people like myself have been kept more than busy, monitoring the
activities of both the Setnin forces and the Ki-Ki. Our hands are clean, our
conscience clear, but even I wonder when we are going to choose a side and
end this madness. The Sunrise
disappears into hyperspace and I sit and wait, lost in my thoughts. Thirteen
hours later I find myself in the Yuma System, sitting at the very edge of
sensor range watching a wing of SJ Type X-Wings of Setnin specification dock
and board what I believed to be a Trac-Tran Transit Company Bulk
Freighter. My running lights are
dimmed, my engines long cold, but I had followed the Berone Sunrise
carefully through a handful of jumps, the tracking beacon I had attached
finally burned out upon this, the final entry. I had to shake my head in disbelief. What I saw was beyond comprehension. Squadron Indigo, heroes of the Rebellion
and the Republic, joining forces with the scum of the underworld. Betraying everything they vowed to stand
for. What could have possibly
possessed them? I calmed myself,
trying to probe their thoughts for clues, but from this distance I can sense
little. But what I could sense was
only good. Honourable. A group of people proudly trying to free
themselves from evil. I frowned as I
eased out of my telepathic probing.
There has to be more to this than mere mutiny, but what? The pieces didn’t fit, and I cursed
Galactic Alliance Intelligence for leaving me so exposed and uninformed. Saffras feelings for Lomona were real, and
his in return were also true. I felt
no deceit on Centaurs part when discussing the details with his wife or his
father-in-law. So what was the true
story? I
leaned down to pat my dog Spacer on the head, and with his eyes that held
such intelligence he looked right back at me. “What should I do boy? Contact headquarters or keep tracking?” To be
honest, I would have done whatever my faithful mutt told me to, but luckily I
saw sanity and sense first. This
required investigating, and I’m nothing if not a first-class
investigator. It’s
time I returned to my roots. The
Meeting 2002 short story by Louis Turfrey, Paul Squire and Mark
Newbold Thirty-seven
years after Episode IV – A New Hope Histories – The first appearance in
the New
Underworld Age of Critchek Skumul, investigator working for the
Galactic Alliance. Eager to carry out his mission and follow Jan Lomona and
his cohorts, even Skumul is unsure as to why the Galactic Alliance is loathe
to get involved in the conflict. Able
and efficient, Skumul follows his mission orders, but ends up with more
questions than answers. Cast
of Characters Critchek
Skumul Jan
Lomona Terrie
Saffra Paige
Centaur Ryath
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