“Log Entry 384bcis: As instructed, I have remained behind until the last of our transports departed safely into hyperspace.  Thrawn Imperial Star Destroyers have so thoroughly blasted the asteroid that I fear for my safely, even in this deep-planet survival shelter.”

“Log Entry 385bcis: The bombardment has ceased.  I have crawled up the accessway to the main levels – or what was left of it.  If nothing else, the Thrawn forces are still generous with the Imperial overkill tactics.  I expected much of what I have observed:  Thrawn  Stormtroopers sifting through the rubble of the defensive modules, others loading salvaged equipment into barges for transport, probably to Intelligence for analysis.  What I did not expect was to see them blasting open the doors to an intact chamber of the base!  It appears that the central computer has not yet completed its self destruct sequence.  I will attempt to get closer and determine whether this is the case.”

“Log Entry 386bcis: My worst fears are realized.  The first barrage knocked out the main power supply to the central base computer banks, and the backup power supply wasn’t equal to the task of detonating all of the programmed charges.  I estimate it shorted before it could destroy more than twenty percent of the computer center, certainly not enough to ensure that the crucial data is kept from Thrawn’s hands.  I supposed under the circumstances you’d better not send my pickup boat.  I’ve a thermal detonator or two and a fair amount of detonite.  I’m going to try and go in there and finish the job the automatics started.  I’ll send this off first so you’ll know if you don’t hear from me again that I didn’t make it.  Remember, it’s the Imperial transport Elusive that’ll have the data if I can’t stop them.”

---

Riq clicked off the datapad and slid it down the table to Darr, “These are the last transmissions of a compromised VE listening post.  The asteroid has been thoroughly blasted, and to our knowledge the computer’s core is still operational and containing sensitive data.”

“Hrmph,” Darr slid the datapad back up to his commanding officer, “What data exactly?”

“We don’t know what data may have survived exactly, but it can include our transmission frequencies, scandocs, and even agent alias and stations.  Pretty much everything that went through that listening post is in that databank.”  Riqimo took a sip from his caf cup as he activated the galaxy map.

“The post is about hereish,” Riq gestured somewhat near the Dankayo system, “About seventeen parsecs galactic northeast of this system.  Tis an NR system, but that’s irrelevant to this mission.  All that matters is this Elusive that we’ll have to prevent from obtaining the information.  We have a recently acquired, stolen rather, a Thrawn shuttle that we’ll employ to get up close.”

“Isn’t this more of an naval operation then?”

“We’ll be boarding the ship, so technically it falls into our Stormtrooper operations.  And since you have more naval contacts... well better naval contacts than I have... you’re job right now is to find us a pilot for this shuttle.”

“Better?”

“Oh, I didn’t introduce you to Peter McCarthy? Or better known by his callsign of Cartwheel?  He can do some things with a shuttle that no sane person would ever try, and it seems that his stomach is the only one that doesn’t  complain... if you catch my meaning.”

Darr seemed to grasp the notion quickly and nodded, “With a callsign like that, let’s see who I might be able to find.”

Twilight clutched at the small moon of Tadath.

Nothing appeared as it should, and this bothered Riqimo.  He had been on this range before, but it was different this time.  Subtly different.  Bloody light leaked from the sky and dribbled across rocky plains giving a surreal appearance.  Hills in the distance vomited out black tailings as he remembered.  He sighed at the scene and flicked the safety off on his rifle.  He came to the shooting ranger after the meeting with Darr to get a little more practice in before deploying.  But instead he seemed more pensive and watching the scenery.  Rubbing his eyes, Riqimo took shooting position and let out precise crimson bolts at the targets down the range.

---

Later...

Riqimo settled his rifle gently against his oaken desk and twisted his head slightly to loosen his neck joints with a satisfying crack.  A soft sigh filled the office shortly after as Riq took a sip from a warm ale he had sitting out for most of the day and then overcome by the whirl of the air conditioning system kicking in when it realized a life form was present in the room.

Flipping through the green-and-blue-glowing displays, Riqimo brought up the necessary dataforms on his computer console so he could finalize the equipment for the mission and get it shipped to the proper hangar in time.  He was interrupted by a brief comlink message from Darr confirming that they had a pilot to which Doc gave the order to start rousing up the platoon from their bunks before they were too fast asleep.

They’d have plenty of time to sleep on the shuttle if they were tired, what was important is that they got launched off in time.  Every hour off the clock was another hour of salvaging finished for the Thrawn forces, and another hour until they left the system and be near impossible to track in the vast expanse that is the Galaxy.

Riq couldn’t help but chuckle, he wasn’t sure why he found it slightly amusing, but it just seemed that way for an odd, unfathomable reason.  But then Riq’s mind was quite unfathomable, even to himself at times, and if someone could explain it, they’d probably go mad with the possibilities that presented themselves.  The grin went as soon as it came, and Riqimo was shouldering his rifle strap and locking up his office until he came back.

---

“That's her right there, apparently dumping her garbage now to prepare for a hyperspace jump,” the pilot waved Riqimo over and pointed out the cockpit.

“Isn't it nice how Imperial procedures rarely ever vary,” Riq muttered just as the comm started beeping as the Elusive started to hail the small shuttle the troopers were squeezed into.

“Greetings shuttle.. Bonderyus, is it?  This is the Imperial Armored Transport Elusive. What is your purpose in this sector?”

Riq slid into the comm officer's chair and immediately responded, “Elusive this is Bonderyus, we are on a classified mission that requires us to deliver supplies.  Sending security clearance code now...” Riq pushed a few buttons and gave a small prayer that it wasn't out of date.

After a few minutes he received a reply “Everything seems to check out Shuttle Bonderyus.  By the way, have you perhaps run into a convoy of fleeing Vast Empire ships running your way with their tails between their legs?”

Riq gritted his teeth slightly but maintained a dignified tone, “Can't say we have, why?”

The comm officer then went into an overly cheery synopsis of the attacked in a furious chattery, one comm-officer-to-another fashion.  Eventually Riq couldn't take anymore and signaled with his hand to prepare to attack.

“Ah, Bonderyus, it looks like one of your laser turrets has come undocked and is... ah... sort of pointing our way.  Would you mind locking that back down?  Do you copy Bonderyus?  Bonder...” Riq flicked off the comm console as soon as the first shot was fired and immediately took a commander station coordinating the attack, which was short lasting.

“Their hyperdrive engines are almost charged!” their pilot shouted out in the middle of some of his evasive maneuvers.

“Focus fire on the eng...” Riq spew out a string of Huttesse as the Elusive quickly flashed out of sight.  He span over to Darr at the Nav computer console, “Where were they headed?”

As they floated in a cloud of drifting Imperial garbage and a few bits of the Elusive, the nav computer sped through calculations.

“It appears that their trajectory would have put them on course for an Imperial base in the Coronar system... however it appears that they made a last-second change of course... destination unknown..”

A second string of Huttese was interrupted almost immediately by the sensor klaxon suddenly screaming to life as it scanned another vessel entering the system.  It first appeared as a pinpoint of light, but resolved into a tapered, needle-like craft.  A scintillation of many hued lights cluseter around it, many of them seemingly moving on their own.

“What the hell is that...?” Riq leaned back over to the sensor module.

“It appears that the lights are some sort of crude tractor beam,” some trooper manning the sensors replied, 'They seem to be collecting the garbage.”

The sensor klaxon screamed back to life before Riqimo could hail the unknown ship.  The newcomer popped out of hyperspace was different from the other ship as space is from time.  The squat, ugly, ring shaped craft had a patchwork surface of various blackened materials and a hole in the middle of the thick ring seethed with crackling energies.  Immediately, the new ship openned fire upon the needle-like ship and the ship that the Wildcard Platooners were couped up in.  Meanwhile lurid yellow lightings of the tractor beams drew in the choicest bits of salvage.

“Battle stations, return fire!” Darr was immediately upon the situation as Riq tried to hail either ship and scan them as well.

The newest comer was equipped with antique autoblasters, pseudosonic beamers, G-type rotolasers, and the like – all obsolete by even the lowest budget pirate clans, but  deadly in sufficient numbers.  And the number of weapons on that ship was excessive by anyone's standards.  Eventually the ship diverted most of firepower from the Imperial shuttle to the other and a near hellish conflict arose.

“Cease fire, see how this goes!” Riq shouted back into the cargo hold where the weapon mounts were manned.

The large ringed ship unleashed its massive antique energy cannons and the smaller ship was using clusters of tractored garbage like fencing foils to ward off the blasts.  An immense storm of outdated weaponry exploded towards the tapered surface of the needle-ship.  Through it all, the sliver sliver of the smaller ship dodges and darts, parrying madly with its tractor-controlled clusters of garbage, clearly over-matched but neither giving ground or appealing for help.

“That ship has no weaponry whatsoever...” Riq muttered in surprise.  It was adequately defending itself with tractor beams, but that was preventing it from salvaging effectively.  Riqimo understood the entire concept soon enough, this was a salvager turf war, and as soon as the more offensive ship obtained its choice bits, it escaped to hyperspace.

Riqimo was surprised as the comm system cackled to life, “Secret agent Dono to Momship.  Hope you enjoying big treasure dump.  Plenty good stuff left on big-ship, you bet.  Have place-numbers for next big-ship stop.  Will transmit in super-secret Squib code.  Starting now.”  The rest of the message appeared to be gibberish, but had the underlying basis of an actual language.  Riq guessed it to be the Squib language.

“Squibs?” Darr came over from the nav computer.

“Essentially space faring Jawas, lovely critters.  I'll handle this... just not sure why they forwarded this message to us... they got it on a private pirate band channel then broadcasted it on an open channel to us..  But whatever that means, we'll have to bargain for the 'place-codes' mentioned.  They know where the Elusive jumped to.”


“Bargain?” Darr questioned.

“Space-faring Jawas,” Riq shrugged as if that explained it.

“Alien scavengers, identify selfs or face quick obliteration by awesome Squib weaponry, you bet,” the comm interrupted the conversation.  Riqimo chuckled as the ship clearly had no weaponry and was even slower than the Imperial shuttle.

He flicked the comm back on and replied, “Let's make a deal, we want the 'place-codes' for the 'big-ship' what's your offer?”

The Squibs seemed to think it over for a moment before replying, “Board, awesome Squib tractor in you to Momship!”

Soon enough there was a small vibration as the many tractor beams put all their effort into bringing in the shuttle.

Once Riq and the pilot had deciphered the thickly accented Basic of the Squib guide and actually located the “System of Paradise,” they followed his instructions and were soon on the outskirts of a rather strange system.  The ship's sensors identified it as “J21-Z65,” no points of interest, and pretty far off the beaten track.  It hasn't even got a planet, only a small sun and an asteroid field.  Nevertheless, the sensors also detected a well-maintained picket around the system that was as solid as an Imperial Navy blockade.  The ships that formed the blockade were the same as the ones that opened fire earlier at the garbage dump.

“Ugors!  Evil nasty Ugors!” Spifler (as Riq had come to call him, as everyone else) snarled with a hint of pure hatred.

“Well, the number of Ugors patrolling this... place means it's more valuable than it seems,” Riqimo strained forward to see out of the cockpit glass.

A terse, clumpy sounding voice cut over onto the commlink, “Direct your course to setting 43 galactic south and 15 galactic east for customs inspection.”

Riq nodded to the pilot, “Do it, I rather not take on an entire warfleet, we saw what just one of those ships can do while tractoring trash.”

Elnine (the cooking droid that they received as a 'gift') seemed quite excited about meeting an Ugor face to face, “Perhaps I should prepare a carafe of Ugorian spore-gruel as a welcome present?”

“If you can find a kitchen, knock yourself out,” Riq sighed, at least it wasn't a food metaphor this time.

Spifler squeaked, “Must hide me!” Riqimo nodded and half-pushed the Squib into the cargo hold and under some metal slates on the floor.  Just as soon as Riq was finished hiding him, they were boarded by a squad of nine Ugors in a forggy-looking combat armor.  Although only nine, they easily outgunned the platoon as each Ugor brandished a large number of weapons in each free pseudopoda. 

The rhodium plated one in front manipulated the controls of some sort of loudhailer.  The speaker of the device emitted a wavering wail, a glass-shattering squeal, and a nervewracking whine before settling down to a rumbling, squashy bass voice, “Bilgrims of Sysdem of Baradise, we cerebonially salude you in name of Gread Prophet Botiv.  I humble Tax Chaplain GrrKack, bid you welcome on sacred bilgrimmage.  It is now that we are conducting you to holy temple, where you give your ceremonial donation to prove intentions of faith.”

Riq nodded to the entire platoon to follow him.  Elnine attempted to follow as well, but was denied  “non-eaters forbidden to enter the holy-place.”

The entire platoon groaned at Elnine's reply, “My souffle of excitement has been deflated.”

Hustled at multiple gun-point through the docking portal and onto the Ugor vessel that was patched together in such a manner that made the Squib ship look sane and secure.  Each item of the ship looked like it was discarded long ago by Jawas, and an indescribable glop covered the sparking electric panels.  Every once in a while an unhealthy shudder runs periodically through the dank, dimly-lit ship.

Riqimo and his platoon were eventually into a room with the Chief Tax Chaplain, an unpleasant liquid person who received them much as a funeral director receives prospective clients.  He smiled widely from all of his mouths as GrrKack introduced them, “Meet honorable Bilgrims, oh Wise ArrGack.  Dey undertake Bilgramage to atone for many zins, all of which Your Wisdom has doubtless heard before.

Riq smiled wryly as a silver, velvet-lined collection plate came towards him.  Seeing his hesitation ArrGack's lugubrious voice adds, “The usual donation 50 credits standard per Bilgrim, extra for droids and zinners.  No hostility or bad feeling allowed in Holy-Place.  All weapons ztay out.”

“Perhaps an extra thousand credits would allow us some allowance of protection?” Riqimo tried to haggle an offer, the second of the day.

“Zertain 'tool' licenze fees have been know to incude hand blasters.... ship weapons must be deactivated ztill.”

Just as Riq was about to close the deal, a high-pitched, yet familiar sound much like someone clearing  his throat to get attention interrupted him.  Much to Riq's chagrin he recognized the voice as belonging to Spilfer.  The Squib was unable to resist a good haggling session and disguised himself in a poorly fitting, human-sized blast helmet and a tech-suit and crossed over into the Ugor ship.

After an amazing fast round of negotiations that Riqimo stunned, Spilfer had lowered the price to a rock-bottom of 12 credits per person, and weapon fees to 300 total.  Everything went surprisingly fine... until it was time to shake on the deal...

GrrKack unscrewed the top of his armor and extended a gloppy pod towards Spilfer.  When it got within a meter of so of the fuzzy blue alien, it recoiled in apparent shock.  The pseudopod retreated back into the suit, to be replaced by three snaky tendrils with bulbous eyes on their tips.  “I can't believe my eyes,” the blob-like thing in a shell rumbled, I dink they brought us a sacrifice.”

Spilfer quickly retorted with, “I can't believe your eyes either.”

GrrKack turned to his leader, “Wise ArrGack, see if that is not demon of a Squib, coming to give glory on the altar of the Angel of Taxations and Imports.”

ArrGack's vaguely turtle-shaped shell popped open with a hiss of hydrolics, revealing a pair of battered macrobinoculars floating in it.  They come to bear on the Squib, and a gurly voice emanating from the green.. stuff burbled, “Yup, GrrKack, is sure-enough Squib-thing, veritable pseudopod of the Anti-Prophet.  Killum quick, but with proper ceremony.” 

The Tax Chaplain GrrKack closed his shell and, working on the mechanism on half a dozen weapons, begins, “Let us pray...”

Riq jumped in before the weapons were fully ready, “Perhaps some sum of credits will help you see that this Squib wants to repent for his sins?”

The Ugors seemed to think on this a moment and ArrGack responded, “Four thousand credits.”

Spilfer chimed in instantly, “Two thousand!”

ArrGack lowerd to, “Three thousand five hundred.”

Before Spilfer could try again, Riq covered the Squib's mouth and nodded, “Agreed, here's your credits, we'll be on our way now...”

OOC:

End Prelude...