CHAPTER EIGHT
"Find anything interesting, Wraiths?"
Rummaging about Scav's now-abandoned estate on Odryn, moving aside expensive and elaborate items, Trey Courser said into his comlink, "Nothing of interest, Face. How about you, Gambler Girl?"
"Nothing but fancy vases and holographic portraits," Myri replied. "Though for a pirate, he sure does have good taste."
"Try looking in his personal quarters," Face said. 'That's sure to be where he has things connected to Black Sun."
"Like what, exactly?" Trey asked.
"I don't know. Personal datalogs or something."
"I doubt Scav would keep such items anywhere besides on his person," said Jesmin Tainer, emerging from an adjacent room. "Which would have been on his ship, which is now scrap."
"Hey, I'm not the one who made a deal with pirates," Face said over their comlinks. "So watch it with your accusatory tones."
"Let's keep looking anyway," Myri said. "Scav might be a fancy man, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's bright. Maybe he's left something behind."
Trey grinned at her. "Relying on others' stupidity always seems to be a good tactic."
* * *
Scav groaned as consciousness returned to him. The soft feeling of cool grass on his back told him that he was no longer on the Rusty Mynock; the agony in his abdomen told him that he wouldn't be anywhere for much longer.
Opening his eyes, he saw the stormy sky of Odryn hovering him... and then Kadar's masked visage entered his view.
Scav tried to growl but instead broke out into a coughing fit. "You... you spared me."
"Not for long," Kadar muttered, aiming his blaster at the Feeorin's forehead. "I wanted to make this more memorable... plus, I need answers."
Scav scowled. "Why should I tell you anything if you're just gonna kill me anyway?"
"Because your manner of death might depend on it. Tell me where Xalren Mithric is, and I'll make your death quick and painless. Don't, and I'll leave you here, in agony, and let you wither away."
Scav stared at the rogue Mandalorian with furious eyes before sighing. The former option honestly sounded to his liking, despite his people's strong and brutal nature.
"Sal Tyrius knows," he said. "He can be found on Arkania, at the Diamond Chest."
Kadar kept his aim steady. "He is the eldest Vigo then."
Scav nodded. "Has been with Xalren since the beginning. Only he knows where the Underlord is."
"He'd better," Kadar grunted. "Once I've killed you, he'll be the last remaining Vigo. Azul, Zurn, Varak... they're all dead."
The Feeorin flashed him a toothy grin. "Word's surely gotten out by now. Tyrius and Xalren will probably have all sorts of defenses. You'd be an idiot to take them on alone."
"I'll manage," Kadar muttered, readying his blaster. "Thank you for your services, captain. May your rot in Chaos."
* * *
"I've found something."
Trey and Myri came to Jesmin's side as she emerged from underneath the mattress of Scav's king-sized bed. In her hand was a datapad, though it did not respond to her attempts to activate it.
"It's locked then," Trey observed. "Meaning it must be important if Scav doesn't want anyone else accessing it."
"You wouldn't like anyone accessing your datapad, would you?" Myri said wryly.
Before Trey could retort, Jesmin said, "Well, it's all we've got at the moment, so we might as well use it. Besides, Trey, you're our tech expert; can't you get through its encryption?"
Trey smiled sheepishly. "I can try."
"Try not. Do or-"
"Shut up."
* * *
The entirety of Wraith Squadron- or rather, the entirety of Bhindi Drayson's unit- stood around Trey as he worked at the protected datapad. Standing nearby were Captains Jorg and Wallen, the latter's lieutenant Taaku, and a trio of Alliance troopers in case the datapad turned out to be rigged like a bomb.
After several minutes of work, Trey finally achieved results, indicated by a beep as the datapad turned on. A cocky grin crossed his face as he viewed its contents.
"Looks like we've hit the jackpot," he said, handing the device to Face. "All sorts of Black Sun info, including a bunch of names of the Vigos."
Face began to nod as he viewed the list. "We could use this... especially this interesting factoid about a Vigo on Arkania having ties with the Imperial Remnant."
"Excellent," Jorg said. "That's exactly what we need. Shall I set a course for there?"
"Yes," Face replied. "We have an appointment to make with Sal Tyrius."
* * *
Sal Tyrius stifled a yawn as the elderly Weequay man at the counter continued to count his credi-chips, often loosing track and having to start all over.
"Sir, I do believe you have enough there," Tyrius said, trying to sound more polite than annoyed. "I am very willing to let the King Veruna portrait go cheap."
"I'm nearly done!" the Weequay said sharply. However, as he returned his gaze to the credi-chips, he frowned. "Drat. I've lost count again."
Tyrius sighed loudly, his patience beginning to reach its breaking point. "Sir, you've been here for nearly an hour. The people that had been behind you in line are now gone, denying me potential customers and thus their money, which is bad for business. Because of this, I will give you portrait for free. Otherwise, you leave."
"Darn it, you've made me lose count again."
Breaking point. Tyrius lunged across the counter, seizing the Weequay by the collar of his shirt, and lifting him off his feet. The Arkanian's white eyes bore into the old man's, blazing like a pair of suns.
"Sir," Tyrius said curtly. "Take the portrait and leave. I don't need your blasted money."
A tight smile creased the Weequay's already-wrinkled face. "But we need you."
Then, before Tyrius' eyes, the Weequay's creased visage melted away, replaced by the reptilian one of a Clawdite. Before the Arkanian could react, a number of blasters appeared from all sides, aimed at his head. As Tyrius dropped the changeling, a bald, bearded man appeared from behind him.
"Sal Tyrius," Face said. "We need to talk."
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