The Greasy Hydrospanner cantina
Undercity, Seng Karash, Aeotheran, Orian System
Day 313, 29 ABY
It had been almost two months since Sylus Vega had last been contacted by the Kaleesh whose name he couldn’t so much as pronounce.
Yash, as Sylus had taken to thinking of him as—it was the only part of the Kaleesh’s name he could remember—was a representative of the now discredited Peace Brigade, the sympathisers who had thrown their hand in with the Yuuzhan Vong during the war. Most had now been rounded up and arrested. The rest had cut ties and tried to go back to their lives, probably hoping nobody ever found out about their involvement.
Yash presumably was part of the latter group. Either that or he honestly was out of his head enough to seriously believe in what the Peace Brigade stood for.
Which meant he was a lunatic.
Still, it was probably why Sylus connected with the ex-Peace Brigade officer. His own career had been thrown to the gundarks after his involvement with that double crossing witch from the True Brotherhood, Anaxela, had been found out. The former mayor had been forced under the radar, disappearing into the underworld. On the plus side, it was the underworld he had helped to build up, which made things a little easier—he knew people.
The one-eyed Gungan standing behind his stool let out an unpleasant cloud of smoke that fogged across the small corner table. ‘He’s late,’ Ghon whispered.
Sylus took another sip of his pink nebula. ‘He’ll be here.’
‘We don’t like it,’ the Gungan grunted. ‘We don’t need these people.’
Sylus hesitated a moment before he replied. He still couldn’t work out why Ghon had started saying ‘we’ all the time. Not that the Gungan having another screw come loose was all that unexpected—even Sylus wasn’t into using half the stuff Ghon experimented with.
‘He’ll be here,’ Sylus repeated.
A door at the far end of the cantina slid open. If it wasn’t for the grating sound as the rusted metal scratched against the floor, few would have even noticed the new arrival. Down here in the Undercity, there wasn’t a whole lot of light, so whether the door was open or shut it was just as dingy as ever. This place hadn’t been meant for habitation. The hydroponics facility beneath the main city up aboveground had only been meant for the droid workforce.
But Sylus had seen to that. As mayor of Seng Karash, it had been his duty to seek out profitable new avenues, no? Well, what better way than making use of the disused storage facilities belowground, renting them out to the local ‘protection’ rings and other assorted underworld cabals? The governors must have known what he was doing—if they hadn’t then they deserved it for being so blind. Whatever the case, they hadn’t interfered. Dlarit always had cared more about making a profit than whether the Corporation was within the law.
Not that Sylus had realised what the viceroy really was until Anaxela contacted him.
But that was all in the past now.
The man who entered through the doorway across the other side of the cantina was dressed in nothing more than a faded brown animal skin cloak and loose bandages wrapped around various parts of his body. Every time Sylus saw Yash, it bewildered him how the Kaleesh didn’t freeze to death with half his body completely exposed. It wasn’t like the tribal skull mask Yash wore could have helped much.
Not that any of that stopped Sylus cramping up as his contact squeezed between the crowded tavern patrons towards him. Behind, he heard Ghon mutter something.
‘Where?’ Sylus whispered, searching for the second figure Ghon had just mentioned. He thought he caught sight of a pair of red photoreceptors, probably from a helmet—
Before he could get a better look, Yash dropped into the seat opposite him.
‘Sylus Vega, we meet again.’
Sylus fidgeted in his seat as he glanced around, still trying to avoid eye contact and the need to use the Kaleesh’s full name. ‘It’s been longer than we agreed,’ Sylus muttered. ‘I was told to use my contacts to secure you a facility on Tarthos. I did so. I was told to secure you another one here. I’ve done that. What next? I just sit here waiting for when your boss deems it worth his time to reply?’ Sylus hadn’t intended to sound so irritated, but Yash was only the middle man, which meant Sylus still could lose his temper with him—even if the people the Kaleesh represented were not people Sylus wanted to annoy.
But right now, Yash’s employers needed Sylus.
That meant Sylus was the one calling the shots.
Of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to not realise as soon as Yash’s people got what they wanted they would cut Sylus out the picture, just like both Anaxela and Dlarit had done in the past. That was why this time he intended to make sure things stayed in his favour.
Which meant getting paid up front.
‘I’m still owed for getting you Vega Mine.’
It was impossible to tell if Yash’s smile was genuine or not with the skull covering most of the Kaleesh’s face. Instead of replying, Yash inclined his head left and gestured for someone sitting off to the side to come over. Sylus swallowed hard. It must have been the hired help Ghon had spotted earlier. How did the Gungan always do it with only one eye?
While it was not possible to make the figure out in the dim light, when they approached Sylus realised it was not a guy at all, but in fact a remarkably alluring Chiss—the red optics he had spotted were in fact her eyes. She was dressed in the smart blue uniform of the Dlarit Security Force. He frowned: he didn’t remember her, which meant she wasn’t one of the original Saraii from back when they’d been on Sif—and he knew all the original Saraii, even the ones he wasn’t supposed to.
Whatever. It didn’t matter if she was new to the system. She was still Chiss.
Wait . . . maybe she was his payment? He perked up and grinned at her. The Chiss took a seat next to Yash, however far from returning Sylus’s lustful gaze, her eyes glowered back, as full of life as a corpse. Sylus swallowed again. Evidently she was not his payment.
‘Let me introduce Wyla Sarn,’ Yash said.
Even with the skull mask on, Sylus could sense the threat in the Kaleesh’s eyes; but he was not about to rise to the bait. He recognised a test when he saw one. ‘A pleasure to meet you,’ he quipped sarcastically, no longer interested in the new Chiss recruit, and keeping his attention squarely on Yash. ‘However, I have my own contacts inside the police. Miss Sarn’s ‘services’ will not be required.’
The female Chiss said nothing, her eyes as empty of life as ever. Was she some kind of modified Human Replica Droid? Behind him, Sylus sensed Ghon shift uncomfortably, but he was not about to let this deal fall through. Whatever the Peace Brigade had planned, he could still turn this to his advantage. He’d negotiated his way out of worse deals in the past.
The Kaleesh lifted his skull mask off and laid it on the table between them. The Peace Brigade commander’s face was marked with cuts and scars, along with a mix of ritual tattoos; Sylus had no idea if they were of Kaleesh origin or not. Yash’s left tusk was broken midway, no doubt from an injury sustained when he was young given the way it had healed off angle.
‘Perhaps I should make things clearer to you,’ Yash said. ‘Colonel Sarn will be your new contact within Dlarit Police. This is nonnegotiable.’
‘And since when did you get to select my agents?’
‘Since my employers demanded it.’
Demanded? Who were they to demand anything? Sylus bit down on his response; the tone of Yash’s voice had made it crystal clear there was no point arguing. Sylus still had no information on who the Kaleesh’s ‘employers’ were. He had several good ideas. None of them pretty. The Dlarit Corporation wasn’t exactly in the business of making friends. In fact, Dlarit had done a fine job doing precisely the opposite. Sylus himself was testament to that.
He gave the cantina a quick once over, checking no one was looking their way, then leant forward so his nose was nearly touching Yash’s tusk. ‘Perhaps it’s time you let me in on who exactly these mysterious employers of yours actually are. It’s not like I haven’t proven my commitment already.’
That elicited a response from the Chiss.
Sylus glared at her. ‘Something funny, ‘Colonel’? If that is your real rank.’
The other Chiss stared back, her expression still rigid. A second later the surface of her skin began to ripple and Sylus automatically recoiled back into his chair—only Ghon stopped him tumbling over backwards. Wyla’s skin continued rippling, seeming to peel away out towards the corners of her face.
What emerged through the blue skin-coloured slime froze every blood cell in Sylus’s body. Gray, corpse coloured skin. Purple eye sacks. Pale, silver eyes. Lipless mouth. Stubby, skeletal nose. Black, confused tattoos that made Yash’s look friendly.
Vong.
Yuuzhan Vong.
Right here. In front of him. Inside the Greasy Hydrospanner!
A disruptor whirled in his ear.
The Vong snorted and scowled at the Gungan. ‘Go ahead. But if I don’t report back, my commander will know I’m dead. Which will only mean your death comes sooner. When that happens, would you rather be on our side, or their side?’ She sneered, glancing around the room. ‘And for all you know, every single person in this room is an infiltrator in disguise.’
Yash turned back to Sylus. ‘Call your mercenary friend off.’
Sylus looked around the room again, the Vong’s words sending a shiver up his spine. She was almost certainly bluffing, but it was impossible to be sure. He tried to forget she had suggested it, but it still didn’t make him feel any better. ‘Stand down, Ghon. It’s alright.’ It wasn’t like he could say anything else. The Vong was calling all the shots now.
An uneasy moment passed before he heard another click in his ear.
‘We do not think this wise,’ Ghon grumbled.
‘There we go. Good pet,’ Wyla scoffed before turning her attention back to Sylus. ‘I am Ona Amnan,’ she said as the gelatinous skin that had built up around the edges of her face moulded back into the shape of a Chiss. ‘But it is probably best if we stick to Colonel Sarn.’
‘My employers want the same thing you want,’ Yash said. ‘To take revenge on the Sith who control this system.’
| 
