OF WRAITHS AND RAZOR CRESTS
PART II
Cloud City, Bespin
Din Djarin knew that a man fully clad in Mandalorian armor was not exactly a regular sight to see in Cloud City. The gawking expressions he glimpsed as he pushed his way through the busy crowds were enough to confirm that. He had never fully understood why the people of some worlds were mesmerized or even outright scared by the presence of a Mandalorian while those of other worlds were more ambivalent or even indifferent. He supposed it made sense on a planet such as Nevarro, home to one of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild's many sects, that someone such as himself did not stand out among the myriad of armored bounty hunters and mercenaries. Here, on the other hand, there was a larger percentage of people in civilian dress and business attire. There was hardly anyone besides himself dressed in full body armor, let alone Mandalorian armor.
Still, Din wasn’t too concerned about that. If anyone from the Bespin Wing Guard tried to give him any trouble, he would show them his license and they would surely let him on his way. Besides, he strongly doubted he would actually find his bounty here in Cloud City. What he did hope to find was someone who had an idea on where his bounty currently was.
Although Cloud City presented itself as a pristine municipality with no dirty secrets, Din had been around long enough to know that every city had a criminal underbelly. It was true of worlds in the Core such as Coruscant and Corellia, and it was true here. After asking around, Din had been given directions to a place called Port Town. Covering levels 121 through 160 of the city, the industrial sector was home to a number of outlaws and criminals from all over the galaxy. Most of them were laying low to evade detection from whoever they owed a debt to, although there were rumors that some big-name crime lords ran their personal operations in Port Town as well. If there was ever a place that someone of Dr. Evazan’s reputation would visit, it was there. Especially if that place had an establishment where one could procure fake identities and falsified records….
After making his way to a turbolift that led down into Cloud City’s lower levels, Din stepped out onto Level 138 and he was instantly greeted by a smoky haze. Thankful for his helmet, he used the sensors in his visor to navigate his way through the fog, brushing shoulders with laughing denizens who were high off the spice they were brewing. One of them, a woman with dusty hair, intercepted his path and sauntered up to him, a lopsided smile attempting to be sultry plastered on her face.
“Hey, big boy,” she cooed at him, her words slurring. “Why are you in such a rush?”
Din stepped aside to move around her only for her to grab his arm as he passed her by. He resisted the urge to pull himself free and throw her to the ground. No need to cause a scene this early on, he thought grimly.
“Why don’t you come over and have some fun with us?” she said, gesturing to the crowd of laughing spice dealers. “Plenty of death sticks to go around.”
“I’m not interested in death sticks,” Din said flatly.
“Why not? I can get you some for free.” She pulled herself closer to him and pressed her body against his. “All I ask is for a little… something in return.”
Growling in frustration, Din pulled his arm free from the woman’s grasp and shoved her aside. Right away, this drew a loud shout from nearby and in his peripheral vision he could see a large, heavyset man lumbering over to him.
“What’s the big idea, pushing around pretty ladies like that?” the large man growled, fists firmly on his hips. “Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”
Din said nothing, nor did he make any sort of movement. The man made a snorting sound as he stepped closer, his shadow enveloping the Mandalorian.
“What’s the matter, pal? Nexu got your tongue? Or are you just scared of picking on someone bigger than you?”
“You really don’t want to do this,” Din replied.
The large man guffawed as he brought his massive hands down on the Mandalorian’s shoulders. “And why’s that? You gonna—”
Without warning, Din grabbed the man’s arm and used it as leverage to fling himself up and backwards, landing on the brute’s back. The large man cried out in alarm and flailed his arms to try and pull Din off but was unable to reach him. Holding on tightly to the collar of the man’s shirt, Din drew his blaster pistol and pressed it against the side of the man’s head. Light flashed from the barrel and the brute stopped moving, falling forward and crashing onto the ground. Holstering his blaster, Din stepped off the large man’s body and continued on his way, ignoring the screeches of the woman behind him.
“Murderer!” she screamed from beyond the foggy haze of spice and smoke.
Once again, Din Djarin was thankful for his helmet as it hid how deeply that word had cut him.
Wielu
The blaster bolt hit its target square on, searing a hole straight through the eye of the stormtrooper’s helmet.
Kell Tainer whistled appreciatively as the armored dummy fell off its stand onto the floor. “Nice shot.”
“Of course it was,” Lad Tezalt replied, lowering his sniper rifle. “I’m the best.”
The two Wraiths were standing in a makeshift shooting range that had been set up just outside the Wraiths’ temporary base on Wielu. Situated on the sandy shores of Alekie Island, the base’s location provided an excellent view of the beach, from the golden sands to the pearl blue ocean. Kell had been hoping to put aside some time to walk along the shoreline with Tyria’s hand in his, but he doubted that was going to happen anytime soon.
“One of these days, I ought to introduce you to Myn,” he said. “I would like to see the two of you try to out-shoot each other.”
“Please,” Tezalt scoffed as he moved over to reposition the dummies. “Pitting me against a Corellian would be an insult to my talents.”
Kell raised an eyebrow. “Have you met him already?”
“No, but I’ve heard the others talk about him. I would be surprised if his skills are even half as good as they say they are.”
Kell rolled his eyes as he shook his head. As one of the Wraiths’ newer members, Tezalt had yet to warm up to his teammates and lose some of his rough edges. Having been with Wraith Squadron since the beginning, Kell knew this was true for many of its members; it had been true for him, for Myn, for Lara, perhaps even all of them. It would only be a matter of time until Tezalt found his place in the team… if his pride didn’t get him killed first.
Still, if there was one thing he and the Duros could bond over, it was shooting Imperials.
As Tezalt walked back over after putting the stormtrooper dummies back up, Kell handed out his DH-17 blaster pistol handle first. “How good are you with a pistol?”
Tezalt gave one look at the weapon before shaking his head. “Now I know you’re just mocking me.”
“Hey, it doesn’t hurt to practice. If for whatever reason you lose access to your trusty rifle, it’s good to have a backup.”
Without looking at him, the Duros swiped the pistol from his hand, pointed it at one of the dummies, and fired, sending it flying off its stand. He then slapped the weapon back into Kell’s open palm as the latter tried to process what had just happened.
“It could use some cleaning,” Tezalt commented before returning to his post, taking aim with his sniper rifle once more.
* * *
“Sir, may I have a word with you?”
Face glanced up from the datapad to see Idra standing in the doorway to his office. He gestured silently to the empty seat in front of his desk and the young Wroonian woman took it, sitting straight and upright.
He resisted the urge to shake his head. Ever since Wraith Squadron had transferred to Intelligence from Starfighter Command, nearly all of their new recruits had come from Intelligence rather than the Starfighter Corps. Idra had been the exception to this, having trained as a starfighter pilot before being kicked out of the Academy. It was only thanks to her skills as a slicer that General Cracken, having been in a good mood that day and having heard about her exploits from her instructors, decided to bring her into Intelligence and convinced Face to bring her into Wraith Squadron. Since the Wraiths were in need of a good slicer after having lost Castin Donn and Lara Notsil, Face didn’t need his arm twisted to argue against this recommendation. Having only been with the Wraiths for a few weeks, Idra had still yet to catch on that Intelligence work was quite different from Starfighter Corps work, and that one did not need to fret so much over proper military posture (not that any of them ever did back when they were with Starfighter Command).
Deciding against bringing attention to the matter, Face instead said, “What did you want to tell me?”
“I’ve decoded the rest of the data,” she said.
Face nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow as a silent invitation for her to elaborate.
It took a moment for Idra to catch on and she cleared her throat. “Unfortunately, it did not provide any further insight as to what exactly the Imperials were doing here on Wielu. Most of it was outdated info pertaining to Zsinj’s activities from a couple years back.”
“And yet it was encrypted.”
“If I were to wager a guess, they most likely encrypted it to misdirect hackers from data that they don’t want anyone getting their hands on. Speaking as a slicer, I can tell you that data that’s heavily encrypted is always more enticing that data that isn’t.”
“And the stuff on Evazan? Is that outdated as well?”
Idra chewed her lower lip. “I hadn’t thought about that. It is possible that Evazan’s work with the Empire isn’t as recent as we thought… but even so, none of us were aware that Evazan was even working with the Empire in the first place.”
“Correct,” Face said. “And as it so happens, General Cracken just got back to me with some leads on Evazan’s whereabouts. A few months ago, he was reportedly sighted at a trading post on Trigalis. There’s no clear idea on what exactly he was doing there, but Cracken’s people speculate that he was working for a crime lord operating there.”
“Is that where we’re headed next?” Idra asked.
Face smirked. “Well, we’re not exactly going to get anything done by sitting here, are we?”
Idra stared at him with a nonplussed expression, looking unsure on how to respond.
Holding back a sigh, Face said, “That’s a yes, by the way. Yes, we’re going to Trigalis.”
“Understood, sir. Will that be all?”
“If that’s all you had to tell me, then yes. You’re dismissed.”
With a quick salute, Idra rose from her chair and departed from the office. Once she was gone, Face lowered his head and ran a hand over his hairless scalp.
These rookies are going to need some work.
Cloud City, Bespin
Din Djarin rapped his hand against the metal door. A few seconds later, a small panel opened up and a mechanical eyestalk extended out of the door. The bulb at the end of the stalk regarded the Mandalorian with a glowing red light.
“Do you have an appointment?” a robotic voice emitted from the tattletale droid.
“No,” Din replied.
“Then why should I let you in?”
“Because I have a license.” Din held up a small handheld holoprojector that displayed the details of his bounty hunting license. “I’m with the Guild and I would like to speak with your master. I hear she’s got info on a bounty I’m after.”
The eyestalk droid made a show of pretending to look at the holoimage before saying, “A license isn’t good enough. Boss Lady only talks to people who have an appointment. She’s not much of a people person.”
“Neither am I. Schedule me an appointment for right this very moment and let me in.”
“And the alternative is…?”
“She won’t want to find out.”
The gatekeeper droid continued to study him for a moment, its thought process impossible to determine as was typical of all droids. Finally, it said, “You know what? She forgot to give me my regular oil bath, so I don’t owe her anything for this one. Come on in.”
The eyestalk then retracted back into its panel as the door slid open. Stepping in, Din followed the narrow murky corridor until it ended at an open doorway that led into a small office that was barely large enough for more than one person. Sitting at a cluttered desk, taking up nearly half of the room due to her species’ body mass, was an albino-furred Harch with tired red eyes. As the Mandalorian walked in, the spider-like woman clicked her fangs together as air escaped her mouth in the semblance of a sigh.
“I really need to get that droid replaced,” she muttered.
“Ruudka, I presume?” Din asked.
The Harch glared at him with all eight of her eyes. “What do you want, bounty hunter?”
“I’m looking for a target.” He placed the puck containing Evazan’s image in front of her. “And I know you’ve seen him before.”
“I’ve never seen him before,” Ruudka returned without so much as glancing at the hologram.
“Are you sure?” He pushed the puck closer to her. “Think carefully.”
Her two lower eyes flickered to Evazan’s visage before returning to staring at the Mandalorian’s masked one. “If he’s one of my clients, then I can’t disclose that information. That’s the whole point of my business.”
“Your ‘business’ is dangerously toeing the line as it is,” Din replied. “I’m not sure if forging fake identities for criminals would fly with the current Baron Administrator.”
This got a reaction from Ruudka as the two chelicerae framing her mouth twitched. “You work for the Baron Administrator?”
“No. But I’ve got nothing to lose by reporting your establishment to him.”
“You’ve got nothing to gain, either.”
“Other than his favor? Favor that could be beneficial to the Guild?”
“How would his favor benefit the Guild in any way?”
“If you want to find out, I can give him a call right now.”
Ruudka stared at him intently, as if trying to gauge if he was bluffing or not. Whatever her conclusion was, she ultimately sank in her seat and glowered at Evazan’s hologram as if it were the source of all her troubles.
“Fine. He was in here a while back—I don’t remember how long ago—and he paid for a handful of different identities. I can only remember a couple of them off the top of my head.”
“Name them.”
“Hamma Jooak, a historian from Obroa-skai. McGew Laper, a doctor from Balmorra.”
“Is that all?” Din asked when Ruudka did not provide any other names.
“It’s all I can recall. Look, I have to come up with unique names all day every day and I’ve been doing it for nearly ten years. You can’t expect me to remember all of them.”
Din made a frustrated sound as he swiped the puck off the desk. “If these names don’t lead me anywhere, I will be back,” he said darkly.
“Fine by me, because I won’t be here,” Ruudka retorted. “Thanks for giving me an excuse to finally get out of this dump.”
The Mandalorian merely responded with a shake of his helmeted head as he turned around and strode out of the Harch’s office with the information she had given him.
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