Private Clutched in Dead Claws

[Vendra Vane]

SHIFFRIN
- Crash Town -

"VAAANE!" Shouted a Kel Dor.

He paced, blaster in hand, kicking up dust outside a ramshackle cantina in a small smuggling port. "Fiiiight me!" He shouted again and waved his weapon in the air.

"Owini's gone mad!" Said one pirate who watched the spectacle through a small crack in the wall.

Another pressed his chin uncomfortably over the pirate's shoulder to get a look as well. "Whysee doin'at?"

"Greenie killed his brother, that's why." The first answered.

Owini continued his shouting, he continued to demand that Vendra show herself so he could get his revenge. All that ended when a single streak of blaster fire came from his blindside and shot him dead. Behind the fresh barbecue stood the woman herself, smoking blaster in hand. She walked over him towards the cantina entrance with a single merc-type in tow, who glanced down in disgust.

"Well, that's settled." The first said again as the pirates returned to their drink in disappointment.

"He should have turned around," the merc snorted.

Vendra shrugged without a direct response to the matter. This wasn't the first time she had to deal with a loose string or two on a job, and now it was no longer anyone's problem, assuming the family tree's branches of justice seekers ended there.

"Come on, we're already late for the exchange." She said with a finger wave at her distracted companion.

After all, the two were here to collect some data on a supposed cache of lost tech said to hold the secrets of a bygone empire's deadly arsenal.

Hevnor

 

[Hevnor]

Vendra Vane

Hevnor was waiting in a booth, his only companion a rusted water pipe. Smoke curled around him and water gurgled in the basin as he took another long drag. The kubaz was aware of the shouting and blaster fire, but unmoved by it. The water pipe helped with that. He detested these little backwaters. Life was cheap out here and nobody had any problem reminding people of that. Pointless. Unguided and disorganized. ​

​

A shadow fell over the booth, and he knew that to be Vendra Vane. Hevnor removed the pipe from his mouth and wielded it to indicate the seat across from him. "Sit." Small tendrils of smoke rose from the nares along his snout. He craned his head only slightly to look at Vendra's associate. "Them too."​

​

Hevnor finally gave up the pipe and set it down. The damage was already done, of course, and the booth remained shrouded in a stubborn haze.​

​

"I have the nav data. What do you have for me?"​

​

There was no sound coming from Hevnor. Every word was spoken by a small translation disk he wore like a badge. It was shiny and well-cared for, which in retrospect made it obvious he was not "of" the Outer Rim. ​

 

[Vendra Vane]

A Kubaz?

Vendra was surprised but not visibly so, as it had been some time since she'd seen a member of their species. A familiar scent and a familiar haze filled the space they now entered like a shroud between the known world and someplace else, and perhaps after enough inhalations, one might experience just that.

The Mirialan took a seat across from him in the booth. Her companion resisted momentarily before Vendra's glare cowed his stubborn mercenary ways. The man sat beside her with a grunt and kept his carbine steady on one leg.

"Fancy translator," the merc muttered.

Ven reached into her pocket and pulled out a small disk, which then displayed the holographic image of a very large freighter. "One freighter, filled with military rations, starship fuel, and blaster gas," Vendra said. "Enough to keep a few battalions well-supplied for a whole campaign. Very valuable to warlords out here in the Rim."

The benefits of her former master's many caches from his own warlord days. Unfortunately, by the time Vendra inherited the company, their numbers had dwindled to a few ships and several hundred veterans at most. Such supplies were more of a burden to her than an asset, given how regularly scavengers would sniff them out.

"I was informed there would also be a guide..." She looked around, expecting the Kubaz to be accompanied by someone. "Where are they?"

Hevnor

 

[Hevnor]

Vendra Vane

​

Food, fuel, and munitions. Everything a budding warlord could need. It wouldn't be staying out here. It would take the long trek north and find its way, piecemeal, into the hands of neighboring upstarts the Directory found... Palatable. Many eggs, many baskets.​

​

"That would be me," Hevnor's translation disk replied. "There are three data-disks my employer would like for incorporation into his personal archive. I will accompany you to collect them. The rest will be yours to do with as you please."​

 

[Vendra Vane]

"And he gets first pick?" Ven's companion muttered with no small amount of disdain.

The woman herself nodded and slid over a datachit. "Information on the system," she explained, "with the exact location within to be delivered once we're finished."

It was a simple enough method. Enough information to know where to look, followed by enough information to know exactly where to look and save much-needed time finding the supply cache.

"We already have a convoy fueled and ready to go."

A handful of speeders and a small repulsor barge with more than two dozen soldiers, support technicians, and grunt laborers. Things were already underway that, as soon as the trio appeared, the convoy would set off immediately. The dusty planet was seldom inhabited save for a handful of desperate farming settlements and smuggling outposts, but that didn't mean they were traveling risk-free.

Vendra settled down on the barge with Hevnor and offered a glass of fresh, clean water sourced from a pristine world. None of that moisture vaporator slop with the weird aftertaste.

"Your employer," she began to pry. "Are they a sentimental collector, or is there a more practical interest at heart here?"

Hevnor

 

[Hevnor]

Vendra Vane

​

Hevnor took the offered datachit and appeared to feel it in his hands for a moment, weighing or scanning it for some obvious trap. Evidently he was satisfied, as he reached behind his head, somewhere past his hood, and inserted it into a port at the back of his skull with an audible click. ​

​

Perhaps there were more severe augments hiding back there. Malware was evidently not a concern. He joined them on the barge, watching their crew in inscrutable silence. He took the offered water and held it directly under his snout. The water level began to fall. ​

​

"Thank you," his translation disk intoned, even as he drank uninterrupted.​

​

"Your employer," Vane started to pry while he took in the data. "Are they a sentimental collector, or is there a more practical interest at heart here?"​

​

Wasn't she cute, pretending it mattered. "Our interests are purely practical, as I am sure your own are." There was no reason to clarify, except that the idea that Hevnor was out here at the behest of a private collector or treasure hunter was deeply insulting to him in ways that could not yet be appreciated. ​

 

[Vendra Vane]

"Purely practical as always," she replied with a dramatic flourish of the hand. "I mean to get paid."

Ven sipped her glass of water. She was ever the subcontractor, doing the dirty work for someone who only knew the movement of money, someone who only ever had sweat on their brow during a beating of both kinds. Still, it was a way of life out here, for those who had the luxury--or in this case, a small mercenary force behind them.

The light convoy continued well out into the countryside, past a small number of upstart farming estates, and eventually the absolute nothingness of a wild world.

She had spent the time regaling Hevnor with tales of the Outer Rim when they were interrupted by something urgent.

"And then we bombed the site, burying--"

A man rushed over with bated breath and held out a comlink for her to take. The Dark Jedi accepted the device with a single, raised brow.

"What is it?" The tone of a woman who had been in this life for long enough. No concern, just business.

The other side was nearly inaudible, but Hevnor would be able to make out the gist of the conversation--a scout they had sent ahead. Apparently, the cache was far from empty.

"What do you mean, 'pirates?" She was frustrated. More information from the other side of the line. "Entrenched...? Never mind." Vendra disconnected the comms and handed the device back to her man, who sprinted off with urgency. "Have Szaks take care of this, will you?" She barked before he got away.

She looked at Hevnor. "Looks like some idiots are playing raiders in the hills, not far from our destination. It is being handled."

Hevnor