Montcalm-class Frigate Pallas, Jeyell System

The pair of ovoid frigates drifted towards the gray-black world, harassed by endless streams of patched-up freighters, plain shuttles, corporate cargo ships, and a myriad of other ships and vessels which polluted the world’s space lanes.  Councilor Harding of Audacia stood at the bridge viewport of the Confederate warship, watching the heavy traffic with a mixture of interest and disgust.  Thank the Maker that Audacia is never this busy.  There’s no telling how this menace ended up on their world with all of this traffic.  The tread of booted feet drawing close to him informed the politician of other’s presence.

“This is one of those times,” mused Councilor Harding of Audacia, gazing out of the viewport of the frigate, “that I am glad that we are not entirely dependent on droids, as terrifyingly efficient as they can be.”

“It sounds like a good frakking challenge to us.”

Harding turned to face the leader of Cresh squad of the Special Boat Service, a man who went by the name of Jaster Cuthus.  He let a grin crease across his wolf-like face.  Harding scowled.

“We want them undamaged,” reminded Harding, “your people have a good reputation to uphold, despite whatever you may think it is.  I know that one President Yushar Tikoth will be not pleased if your, I mean our, people begin to shoot up neighborhoods looking for them.  This situation is already difficult enough on the man as it is, we needn’t make it any harder.”

The other man snorted in derision, “I somehow don’t think that sleeping onboard a Confederate warship, hiding from his enemies, with 24 hour protection is going to be a hardship.  He has it easy.”

“Cuthus, you haven’t had the life most people have had,” reprimanded Harding gently, “this is probably the first time he’s had a crime syndicate target him.  Do you remember your first time?”

“Well sure, I was sixteen, and-”

“Most worlds are not like Dalos IV,” interrupted Harding, “and your people should remember that.  We’re closer to the Core, and people do not think the same.  You’ve seen the file on what threatens the man.  I think they are far more dangerous than a bunch of mere bounty hunters, if you are going to reference that tale to me again.”

Cuthus shrugged almost indifferently, “It’s a good story, Councilor.  I can’t help that it’s true.”

“Or exaggerated.”

“Embellishment is the spice of story-telling.”

“Well then,” decided Harding, “let us hope that the President’s story is not more spicy then we know it to be.” 

“He probably embellished it,” said Cuthus, cocking his head to the side, “I mean, I would if it got me something I really wanted…”

“No,” said Harding, “I don’t think he is, not because I trust the man, but I trust CSIS.  And their reports are saying that Jeyell is more controlled by two crime families than the official government.  He naively stepped into their business, and we are going to fix it so the terrors that they unleashed will never be here again, if we cannot fully get rid of them ourselves...”

“Honored Councilor,” informed a young voice from the recessed crewpit, “I have communication’s signal from the president’s ship.  He will be arriving shortly.”

“Thank you ensign,”acknowledged Harding, who turned to fully face off with Cuthus, “I am going to meet and consult with the President.  I trust that you and your people will get to work shortly…”
 

Gymsnor-3 Freighter Nan’thri Maru, Sancriega City,  Jeyell

A dozen beings gathered around the blue glow of the cargo hold’s holo-projector.   Its steady hum blotted out the sound of their footsteps, their clattering gear, and the rattling of their bulky weapons against their armor.  They could have been wanted men.  Most of them had had rough lives on the edges of the rim, flittering back and forth from world to world, from civilization to wilderness, and from lawfulness to lawlessness.  Yet despite those similarities, few of their lives had been exactly similar up until now, with former counterfeiters and slicers rubbing shoulders with old smugglers and bounty hunters.  Yet they were one now, in their own way.  Cuthus gently elbowed aside a gruff-looking Wookiee toting a bowcaster to reach the projector’s controls.  After tapping a few buttons on it, he cleared his throat and bothered to make eye contact with everyone.

“Alrite, you’ve all seen it what’s after their president.  What do you guys think of them?”

“We can do it,” said Corran, a frequently rowdy man with mismatched green and blue eyes, “but only if we get out the big guns”.

“I don’t like it though,” muttered Olm, an albino Twi’lek with scarred lekku, “one of is going to die, I think.  I just don’t like it...”

“Neither do I,” admitted Jaster, nodding in agreement, “not that I gave the Councilor that impression.  He’s doing best for the president with this plan, not for us.  Not that I don’t think that he means well, but none of us are interested fighting those kind of death machines.  We’ve got to come up with something else for ourselves.”

Everyone seemed to murmur in agreement.  Cuthus looked at all of them closely, ensuring that there weren’t any dissenters.  Satisfied that there weren’t any, he smacked a button on the datapad, changing the holo-projection to two groups of beings.

“So we’re not going to do it the Councilor’s way, if we can all agree to keep this silent from him, from his…people.  Are we in agreement?”

“What about CSIS though?” said Olm, “we can’t keep them out of the loop, not if they’re going to be, well…”

“No…” admitted Jaster with a sigh, “we really can’t.  We have to play it straight with them.  I think they’re intelligent enough to agree…”

“What are we agreeing to, by the way?” questioned Corran.

“Instead of the hit-droids,” said Jaster, “I think we can take out the crime families more easily, or at least compel them to call off the droids.  Hey, as long as the threat is ended, that’s what matters, right?”

“So what do we know about them?  I mean, really know?” maundered Zumi, a hip-shooting rodian female, “from what I’ve read, the Cartel is still pretty nebulous…CSIS, have they had any luck figuring them out?”

“I haven’t talked to them about it yet-”

She thrust herself closer to the projector, “And the Sadeet Gang?  They seem like simple killers, so I think they’ll be easier to take out first…”

“We don’t think they sent the droids,” reminded Olm, “they tend to be more personal about their killings, as simple as that may seem.  So, it doesn’t solve the real problem, the assassin droids.  Zumi, I bet you could outshoot the whole Sadeet Gang in a shoot out.  No, that’s a job for some bounty hunter, I bet someone else can get them off our back, for a pice…”

“Too bad we can’t get the assassin droids to do that for us...” grumbled Zumi, backing away from the projector.

“Other way around,” mused Jaster, scratching his chin,  “and that might be interesting avenue to explore.  Let’s think about it, the one thing the Sadeet Gang values is the relationship, the intimacy of all of their actions, as bloodthirsty as they are.  They couldn’t stand to not face someone man to man before they killed them.  Am I right, from what I’ve read?  I bet eighty credits, sorry guys, it’s all I got on me, that they utterly despise the Cartel for sending the droids to do their dirty work…”

“Ally with one to take down the other?” mused Corran, “doable, but I don’t think they’ll do it with us.  Or they would, only to use us to get to the President…”

“Not if they don’t think we’re associated with someone else,” suggested Olm, “I don’t know…maybe someone who wants to obtain the droids for…study?  Jeyell is known for its assassin droids, but this A-series group isn’t from here.  I bet there’s a host of people on this world who would love to have them…maybe even Reibar Manufacturing…”

“That’s true,” agreed Cuthus, eying everyone in the circle, “something that we might want to work out for our advantage.  Does anyone object to getting in touch for the Sadeet Gang to take on the droids?  Should we take a vote?  All right, it’s settled, I’ll get to reaching out to them, if everyone else takes care of the sundry stuff...”
 

Some hours passed as the team dispersed to accomplish the little necessities required for black operations on foreign worlds.  Zumi had been one of the first out of the freighter, inquiring through various means to find a temporary hideout aside from their transport.  Hours later, she reported that she had acquired a cluster of hotel rooms not far from Reibar Manufacturing’s headquarters.  More importantly, it was only several kilometers away from the hideout of a minor Sadeet Gang boss.  Olm had led half of Cresh Squad in subtly canvassing the local areas and information channels on the droids, while Corran and several others did the same on the crime families.  That only left himself and the squad’s sole Wookiee, Mallarrakkatachiir.  The wookiee had one time informed him that the ancestral meaning of the almost unpronounceable name, but Cuthus had understood the base meaning to be shield, which he had taken to calling the wookiee every since. 

The two wandered through the streets of the dirty megapolis, looking for an address that an agreeable CSIS station chief had given them.  Cuthus admitted to being surprised about the woman’s willingness to help, which was not inline with his typical dealings with Confederation spooks, but he appreciated it.  His thoughts wandered off to the woman’s steady green-eyed gaze.  Maybe it’s just refreshing to deal with people every once and a while who cut through the BS and to it with no hidden motivations…He instinctively smacked away an outstretched hand that wandered a little too close to one of his pockets.  A virulent growl from the wookiee behind him sent the pickpocket scurrying away from the Confederate operatives.  He spared a quick rearward glance at his partner.

“I’m not seeing it still, are you?”

Shield growled and pointed across the street.  Cuthus stopped, his eyes searching the skylines before finally setting on a neon-green holo-advertisement depicting some sort of mechanical gambling machine along with a brief clips of smiling attractive people counting credit chips.  He rolled his eyes.  Of course the wookiee beats me to it…maybe I am getting too old for this game.  After figuring out the traffic pattern, the two people darted across the street and walked through a curtain of beads into the “fine” gambling establishment.  Almost immediately, a droid jutted out in front of them, blocking their progress.

“Weapons please,” stated the droid plainly.

Shield growled some obscenity in Shyriiwook and leaned forward.  Cuthus gently pushed the wookiee back and eyed the oversized eyes of the droid.

“Is the owner around?”

“Weapons please.”

“Look,” said the man, rapping on the droid’s golden head, “I know you want the weapons.  Where’s your master?”

“Weapons-”

A ferocious growl from Shield suddenly halted the droid’s speech, but also summoned over a burly-looking man accompanied by a shifty-looking twi’lekk and a guard droid.  The first employee pulled the greeting droid out of the way, handing it off down the chain of employees until it was safely behind them all.  The burly man eyed the wookiee down.

“You better get a grip on your friend here,” said the man, “because if you don’t, I think he might almost become a nice rug, aside from the burn mark-”

Shield interrupted again with another growl and drew closer to the man to impress his imposing height difference.  But Cuthus quickly cut between them, and gently pushed the wookiee back again.

“Look, not trying to create a stir, man,” explained Cuthus, “my partner and I are looking for Trep, the zabrak who runs the place?  We’re businessmen…”

“What kind?” inquired the twi’lekk.

“Acquisitions.”

The burly man turned his head, “Care to be a bit more specific?”

“Only with Trep,” stated Cuthus, “we have a contract we’d like to negotiate with him.  It regards a couple of droids he might have heard about.”

“Is that so?” said the man, “how much?”

Cuthus scowled, “More than your salary.  This isn’t some small chump change, if that’s what you seem to think…”

The twi’lek shrunk into the background, while the guard droid, a bulky thing with a built-in billy club and blaster cannon, marched forward to take his place.  The burly man gestured them all to the side, allowing several other patrons to enter the gambling den.  The employee shrugged.

“Well, it looks like old Jeb is going to plead your case to the boss.  Hopefully it’ll all work out, otherwise, well, you might have run out of luck, and that’s not a good thing in a place like this…”
 
 

Several minutes passed before the pale twi’lek returned, accompanied by three more guard droids.  Cuthus eyed the droids warily.  They weren’t the same clunky, but intimidating, model that had met him at the entrance.  No, these new humanoid droids seemed sleeker and moved with more grace than most organics.  They handled their weapons, long glaives and vibro-pikes, with an almost alarming ease.   They had to be among the newest model on the market, and fit for the great Emperor Kraken himself.  I thought the Sadeet Gang didn’t like droids for the dirty work, sure, one or two at the front might be necessitated for normal appearance’s sake, but these look high-end…they had to have spent some good hard cash on them…The twi’lek cleared his throat and displayed his razor-sharp looking teeth in a predatory grin.

“Trep will see you now, if you’ll come with me, kind sirs.”

Nodding, Cuthus and Shield found themselves boxed in by the new guard droids and escorted through a corridor just offset of the main gambling room.  They passed several servant droids, waiters, and other employees of the establishment, but none of them paid the motley retinue any attention.  It was if they didn’t exist.  His stomach growled.  It’s like we’re going to our execution…hell, I couldn’t even try to escape with these droids so close to me…Finally, they reached a large push-open door, which the twi’lek swung and held open for the assembly to pass through to reveal the crime boss.  Trep sat down on a large couch with a pair of unusually well-dressed business people, studying a city map on a holo-projector.   The crime boss rubbed one of his vestigial horns and eyed the newcomers up and down several times.  He jerked his head up at Cuthus.

“Reess here tells me that you’re looking for a few droids, but looking at you, I might think you’re wasting my time.  I might suggest the constable post down the block if you’re missing your 3PO or R2 unit.”

A wry grin spread across Cuthus’s face, “They’re not quite our type of droid.  We’re looking for a pair, or say, maybe more than a pair, of A-series Assassin Droids.  Tall, metallic humanoid looking things, with a built-in blaster cannon sitting on their shoulder.”

The first businessman, a short brunette man with thick glasses, rose from his place, “I suggest you reconsider your search.”

Trep let a grin of his own appear, “Now Mister Jeneel, I do appreciate the gift of the droids that you’ve given me.  It’d be a shame if I’d have to use them so soon.  Now please sit down and shut up.”

“Let me guess,” said Cuthus, gesturing at the businessmen, “you’re Reibar Manufacturing, aren’t you?”

“That’s none of your business,” retorted the second, a salmon-skinned Quarren, before quickly clamming his mouth shut.

“So, we have ourselves a bit of competition then,” said Cuthus nonchalantly, “but that’s only good here for Trep, you know, highest bidder wins, after
all.”

Trep shook his head, “You’re obviously some sort of player, aren’t you?  But you’re not from around here, are you?  What’s your name son?”

“Redhammer,” said the Confederate, gesturing at the wookiee behind him, “and that’s Dewurra, my partner in crime.  The two of us have been contracted to obtain samples of the A-series Assassin droids currently hunting President Tikoth and his family by a certain major droid manufacturer.  My employers paid good money for confirmation of the mere rumor, we’re talking over fifty thousand credits, so you can only manage to think of what they’ll pay per droid, seeing that they’re such rare specimens...”

“I don’t like middle men,” informed Trep, “which is why these two are here with me now.  So I tell you what, I’ll give you a finder’s fee to put me in contact with your employers.  Say, twenty-five hundred credits, for your time, and we’ll call it a day.”

“I wish I could take it,” replied Cuthus, “that’s easy cash, but my employers specifically picked me to liaison with you.  They don’t like getting their hands dirty, and besides, they’re not from around here.”

“Where are they from?” questioned the zabrak, leaning back.

“Confederate space.”

“Ah-hah, well, that explains the whole cloak and dagger routine.  Well, let’s get down to the bidding then, assuming you have some form of credit…”

Cuthus raised a hand, “Oh, I don’t have credits, not close to enough to outbid a wealthy company like Reibar Manufacturing here, but I have something that you may find more valuable.”

Frowning, the zabrak rose from his coach and approached the Confederate, “That’d better not be a threat…”

The man raised his hands up as it put off the crime boss’s remark, “Oh, it’s nothing like that.  I have some information that I think you’d want, or that your bosses would want.  It’d say it’s worth a big stash of unmarked cred chips…”

“What’s that?”

“I know where President Tikoth is hiding,” informed Cuthus, “that ought to be worth a good deal…”

“Provide me some proof it, and maybe we can work something out,” said the zabrak.

“Now wait a minute…” interrupted Jeneel, “we can work something out all together.  My…outfit can supply the cash for the operation, Mr. Redhammer’s the info, and our two parties can split up the droids we obtain.”

Cuthus frowned, “I don’t know, I hear these droids are pretty hard to catch, and I have to end up with at least two of them, pretty close to being intact to fulfill my contract.  I’d rather leave you folks out of it than only get one droid and mess up my contract.”

“Fine, fine,” said Jeneel, “you can get at least two of the droids, and we’ll get whatever’s left over, even if it’s just the remains of the others.  I’m sure we have the staff to get something valuable out of that, even if you’re employer can’t…”

The confederate operative ignored the taunt.

“That’s acceptable,” decided Cuthus.

“Good, then we’re all in agreement,” said Trep, “and now Mister Redhammer, you better come back with that proof by the day’s end, or I’m coming after you and your partner, you understand me, right?”

Cuthus nodded, “Absolutely.  Can’t have loose ends running around and mucking up the place.”

“Attaboy,” Trep nodded, “I think you and I are really going to get along, son.”
 

Later that day…

Montcalm-class Frigate Pallas, in orbit via Jeyell

Harding frowned at Cuthus, “Let me get this right, you need detailed holos of President Tikoth in order to lure the droids?”

“Yes.”

“You really think those droids are going to be confused by a simple holo-projection?  Even I could see easily through such a ruse…except, perhaps, at a distance…”

“Well, that’s true,” admitted the former bounty hunter, “but we can also use the holos to create physical dummies of the president to lure the droids in.  That’s why they need to be so heavily detailed.  You can talk with CSIS if you’d prefer.  I told them about the scheme, and they suggested that they edit the holo-footage and leak it on the local data net to draw the droids into a location where we can easily capture them.  If it helps, Controller Mormandi is the one I talked to.”

Harding clapped a hand over his eyes, “I won’t object to this little scheme if the president doesn’t object, but I’m going with you when you ask for his permission.”

“Thank you Councilor.”

Cuthus spared a glance at his chrono.  Five hours left before the deadline…that should be good enough to get the initial shots over to Tre , but CSIS may need some more time for their plan, but that suits me fine…if they get to it, it works.  If they don’t get to it, that means I can use my first  plan instead and have the justification to use it too.  He banished the thoughts from his head as followed the Audacian councilor through the halls.  Several rooms latter, they entered an officer’s quarters where a man with unkempt black hair stood at a viewport, eying the world below and fitfully fiddling with his casual business wear.  The man turned to meet the confederates and smiled.

“Councilor Harding…and you might be?”

“Ah, Redhammer, Mister Redhammer at your service,” offered Cuthus, with a slight nod of his head.

Harding warily eyed Cuthus, “Mister Redhammer here is one of our people working on the ground to get rid of the assassin droids targeting you, mister president.  He would like to have your permission to make a detailed holo-scan of your body in order to help build a decoy to lure the droids into a trap, where they can captured for later study.”

Cuthus nodded, “If you would permit me sir, not only will it be the quickest way to deal with this mess, but also the one causing least collateral damage and public outcry.  No-one would ever be the wiser about the droids, and your true situation of being hunted.”

The president nodded in agreement, “I’ll come myself.  The real thing will be far more convincing, and if you’re willing to risk your lives for me, well, I should be willing to do the same…”

“That’s really not necessary, sir,” suggested Cuthus.  I don’t need you to be a bloody hero.

“I have to agree with Mister Redhammer,” said Harding, “you’ve already demonstrated incredible courage by sticking up to the criminal organizations down there, but your people need to make sure that you survive in order to lead them out the corruption that your predecessors have left your world in.  Jeyell needs that change, desperately so.  Please Mister President, if you will just let Mister Redhammer take a few minutes to scan you, we will all feel much safer, knowing that you and your world will be more safe for doing so, and that Mister Redhammer can adequately perform his job without having to worry more about your safety during such an operation.”

“If you insist,” said the Jeyellian, “but how should I pose?”

Cuthus almost raised an exaggerated eyebrow at the man, but quickly thought better of it.  The president began to strike up various poses, some of them painfully cheesy looking.   Apparently I’ve entered the modelling world.  Too bad it’s a he…The former bounty hunter pulled out a brick-sized device, pointed it at the Jeyellian, and began to walk around the preening president.  The device thrummed as it captured the minutest details of the politician’s outfit and mannerisms over the course of several minutes before he finally shut it off.

“That should be it, mister president,” said Cuthus, lowering the device, “thank you for your time.”

“Thank you for your service,” replied Tikoth with a slight bow.

With a curt nod of acknowledgement, Cuthus quickly excused himself from their presence and tapped a button on the device, transmitting the data to the local CSIS station as well as the grounside base set up by Zumi. 

*************

Some hours later…

“Well, that is interesting,” admitted Trep, eying the footage, “and certainly worth your inclusion into this venture, son.”

Trep, the two executives from Reibar Manufacturing, Cuthus, Shield, and a host of Trep’s lackeys viewed the footage once more.  The visage of the president once more began a variety of poses in front of a hotel mirror, as if checking himself before a meeting with the public.  Trep tapped a button on the remote, freezing President Tikoth just as the man began to run a hand through his dark hair.

“I didn’t know he was such an egotist,” noted the Zabrak, “but the time-stamp and footage looks genuine.  And that hotel even looks familiar.  Where did you get this from?”

“Oh, an information broker, an old friend of mine,” replied Cuthus adroitly, “she typically does things for the paparazzi by putting spycams in certain…areas.  But she really got lucky with this one.  She tells me it’s the Chantier Hotel, about fifty klicks from here.”

“It’s a big place,” noted Trep, “care to tell me the room number?”

“I do, in fact,” said the confederate, “and I’m not releasing the room number to you until I know about the droids.  I could care less about your president.  I want the droids before I hand you the room number.”

“One droid before you give me the number, and one droid after,” counter-offered Trep, “these things sound tough to take, and I can’t guarantee two droids before the President moves from that location.”

“Fair enough.”

“All right then,” said Trep, “As it so happens, I got a lead on those very droids, in fact.  One of our snitches said he noticed some of those droids getting on a freighter in the Penhote district about an hour ago.  Looks like they’re trying to escape you folks, so let’s get at it.  I’ve got speeders in the back, let’s go.”

The group rose up from their seats, with many of them hefting various weapons.  The alleged executives of Reibar Manufacturing had brought even more of their droids, though these ones seemed to be carrying blasters and various projectile weapons now instead of the melee weapons Cuthus had previously seen.  Probably more efficient for it…Trep’s people toted everything from bulky hydrospanners to several pricey-looking DEMP guns likely stolen from a military armory.  As they all piled in the back of the two speeder trucks in the back of the gambling establishment, Cuthus briefly wondered if he was an idiot for putting himself in the situation.  But he quickly shook the thoughts away by checking the power of his blaster pistol and inspecting a pair of EMP grenades.  He had had to conjole Olm for them before the twi’lek begrudgingly gave them to the man when it became clear that he, not the rest of the team, would face the assassin droids in combat. 

Not that the rest of the squad wasn’t being useful; they were busy interrogating several minor members of the Cartel that they had managed to pick up off the streets after a fruitful series of transactions at a local info-broker.  Shield gave out a low growl as the speeder truck briefly bounced as he was checking the energy quarrels of his bowcaster.   Cuthus grinned.  Better not get in his way when he goes to ‘talk’ to the truck’s driver.  It seemed like forever until the speeder truck came to a complete halt and the rear door zipped up above them. 

The motley group of fighters piled out of the truck and onto the hard duracrete landing pad.  An immaculate white SoroSuub-built star yacht sat on the pavement in front of them, with its ramp still lowered.  At its base, he could see a pair of spacers.  Judging by their uniforms, he guessed that they were probably the ship’s crew getting ready to take off, but then there was Trep.  The zabrak had gotten into argument with them after trying to walk up the ramp, but the two spacers pushed the alien off the ramp once more.

“Look Trep,” said the ship’s pilot, “it’s nothing personal.  I don’t want to get on the wrong side of the Cartel, and between you and the droids, I’d rather die by your hands.  The things are nasty.  Besides, they’re about to do your work.”

“What?  Kill the president?”

“He’s in space, on a ship,” stuttered the second man, “well…that’s what the Cartel thinks, at least.”

Trep let out a brief roar, “Idiots, I just saw holos of the man, and he’s still here on this world.  Move, or I’ll let them kill you.”

He gestured to the encircling mob of men and droids that had slowly gathered around the ramp.  The crew’s faces grew pale before they scampered out of the way and into the city.  Trep broadly grinned and turned back to stroll up the ramp.  Almost immediately, a large blaster bolt flew down the ship’s hold to disintegrate Trep’s head.  Decapitated, the crime boss’s smoking body collapsed onto the pavement.  Almost immediately, a storm of fire from his followers retaliated against the shooter, filling the air with countless colors of energy bolts and projectile fire.  Smoke and the smell of burnt ozone filled the air, causing Cuthus to wrinkle his nose.  Sheathing his pistol, the man gingerly crawled up to the ramp and tossed one of the EMP grenades into the hold.  Seconds later, a loud crackling filled the air and blue sparks sprang down the ramp.  One of the Cartel’s A-series assassin droids came tumbling down the ramp to collapse prostate on top of Trep’s body.  Almost immediately, the droids of Reibar Manufacturing sprang up the ramp, followed shortly by the Sadeet Gang’s bloodthirsty members. 

Quickly glancing around, Cuthus drew his blaster pistol again, slapped the selector onto stun, and promptly shot the two Reibar Manufacturing executives with his gun at his hip.  The two Jeyellians crumpled onto the ground silently.  Shield let out a rough noise that Trep had learned was a whine.

“Hey, I don’t like it either,” said the man, holstering his pistol, “ but it’s part of the deal with CSIS.  They want them, okay?  I’ll take care of things here, you get them out of here before they all get back, got it?”
 

Epilogue

Montcalm-class Frigate Pallas, in orbit via Jeyell

Councilor Harding of Audacia stood in front of the holo-projector, watching the local news cast.

“…the Sadeet Gang lost one of its top lieutenants, known only as Trep, in firefight with members of the rival Cartel over a shipjacking incident.  Government authorities have stated that the ship involved has been impounded because not is it a crime scene, but the ship itself was said to be carrying illegal battle droids.  Authorities tell us that the droids will be disposed in incinerators to ensure-”

“They really think people are going to buy that line?” questioned Cuthus, creeping up behind Harding.

The Councilor turned, “It’s enough for most of the public.  And those that will think otherwise can look all across Jeyell all they want.”

“They’re going to the Proper for study, aren’t they?”

Harding hesitated, “I cannot talk about it.  I did, however, want to congratulate you on a successful, if unorthodox mission…”

“Don’t change the subject on me, councilor,” said Cuthus, “My people and I risked our lives on this mission to get your kreffin’ droids.  I think that we deserve to know what’s happening to them.  I was on the ship when CSIS arrived.  There were dozens of droids, and they all looked like they were in pretty good shape…”

Harding sighed, “I can’t talk about it Mister Cuthus, because I do not know.  What I do know is that CSIS took delivery of them, same as you, and what they’ll do with them, while I don’t know the answer to that.”

“We’ll start employing them as assassin’s?”

“Doubtful, though as I understand it, they incorporated some unique technology that likely will be studied for the benefit of our own droid industries.”

“Including Jeyell’s.”

“Once that ratify the membership treaty…” admitted Harding, “yes.”

“And Reibar Manufacturing?”

“Seized by the state for building illegal droids,” said the Audacian, “apparently President Tikoth had already started the process, which is what started this whole fiasco.  Apparently they were frequent and influential partners with both the Sadeet Gang and the Cartel.  The two people you captured were executive board members, which means that they were in on this at the highest levels.  The only curiousity is why the Cartel simply didn’t offer to sell one of the droids to Reibar in the first place.”

“I’m sure time will tell us, or at least I should hope it will, given how my people took their entire leadership captive.”

“And hopefully Jeyell police supplemented by CSIS can finish the job by taking all of their members into custody, but I wouldn’t count on a complete extermination Cuthus.  I think there will always be portions of this story that will remain unknown to us.  Such seems to be the case with these galactic underworlds.”