Star Wars - A Servant of the Empire - Unpublished (2 page)

The
Sentinel
set down in the center of the burned area just after dawn. Panatic and the ship’s troops fanned out In search of the source of the signal.

The fire had scorched a section of forest half a kilometer across. The ground underfoot still smoldered in places, and the air was hazy with smoke and ash. Soot and gray mud choked a small stream. Panatic’s normally immaculate boots were soon filthy.

About a hundred meters from the ship they found the charred remains of a dozen crude huts. The wood walls and roofs were burned away completely, but the stone foundations and some clay pots had survived the blaze. A couple of Shkali bodies lay face down in the ash.

“Captain! I’ve found something!” Sergeant Ivlik called out.

Panatic hurried over to the edge of the burned area, where Ivlik was kneeling by a rock outcropping.

“Down here.”

In a hollow formed by two large boulders a Shkali child huddled, staring out at the two humans with terrified eyes. It clutched a comlink with both hands.

“Come on out, there’s a good little one. The fire’s out now. It’s all right. Come on. There, I’ve got you. What’s this you’re holding? May I see it?” Ivlik was a family man, and had little trouble coaxing the frightened little alien out of the crevice. He gently pried the comlink from its grasp and handed it to Panatic. The captain examined it while the sergeant stood by, nonchalantly jiggling the Shkali child and making baby talk.

The unit was an expensive commercial model, with a built-in recorder. Panatic pressed ‘replay.’”

A woman’s voice, tense and breathless, almost drowned out by the sound of shouts and blaster fire in the background. “Mace, I hope you find this soon. The slavers are back—two ships this time. They’re using speeder bikes and nets. Warn the other villages.” A long pause, then some rustling sounds, then a man’s shout, and finally a whispered, “go!” Then the message cut off.

The little Shkali wailed.

“Slavers.”

“Lot of that going on nowadays, Captain. Even legal some places.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“What about this little tyke?” The Shkali child was shivering in Ivlik’s grip.

Panatic sighed. “It looks like there’s another village a couple of kilometers north of here. Leave the child there. Take Kamlok and Lancer with you. The natives will probably be nervous about strangers right now. Set your blasters on stun; we don’t want an incident.”

The
Sentinel’s
brig was designed to be cheerless. The walls and floor were gray metal, and a pair of cameras watched from the corners. Mace lay on one of the hard bunks and stared at the flickering glow panel in the ceiling. He was counting the flickers. When the door opened he was up to eight thousand.

The Imperial captain stepped in. followed by a guard. He took a comlink from his belt and pressed a button. “Mace, I hope you find this soon…”

Mace’s elation turned to horror as the message played out. “Did you find her?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

“I think you’d better tell me everything,” said Panatic.

“It can’t make things any worse. That’s Nadria’s comlink; she’s my business partner. Knows a lot about primitive cultures, art, things like that. We’ve traded a fair bit with the Shkali in the past, but on our last visit they were all spooked. It took us a while to get the full story. Seems about a month ago some strangers showed up in a ship. They rounded a couple dozen Shkali up at gunpoint and took them away.”

“Why didn’t you report it to the authorities?”

Mace laughed derisively. “As if that would do any good. Half the slavers in this sector are on some Moff’s payroll.”

“You’ve been listening to too much Rebel propaganda.”

Mace stared at the captain for a moment. “You Imperials are such kidders; for a second I thought you were serious. Anyway, we decided to do something about it. Nadria stayed here to try and organize the tribes, so they could help each other against raiders in the future. I went off to get some blasters so the Shkali would be able to shoot back.”

“You got the blasters from the Rebel Alliance?”

“I… got them. Anyway, I was bringing them here when you stopped me.”

“Do you know anything else about these slavers? Where they might be based?”

Mace looked genuinely puzzled for a moment. “You mean you’re actually going after them?”

“They have broken the law. I checked—the Shkali haven’t been declared a slave species yet.”

“Well I’ll be a one-legged nerf herder. Sure I know where to find them! The boss is Worruga Yab, a Rodian. He operates out of a place called Zahir. Know where that is?”

“Too well.” Panatic turned to go, then paused. “Thank you, Mace. I’ll be sure to mention how cooperative you’ve been in my report. It might mean a reduced sentence for you.” The armored door hissed open and the Imperial officer strode out.

Mace resumed counting.

Panatic’s cabin was as severe and tidy as his uniform. The only personal touch was a holo of the dreadnaught his grandfather had commanded in the Clone Wars. Everything else was strictly Navy issue.

He sat at his desk and called up the file on Zahir. He knew most of the information by heart, but it never hurt to review the facts. The place was the remnant of a failed development project. One tiny asteroid moon of an outer planet had been domed over and surrounded with a docking ring, to serve as the commercial hub for a new sector. But the nearby systems turned out to be worthless, the colonists and prospectors had never showed up, and eventually the promoters went bankrupt.

Years later the smuggler Worruga Yab had bought Zahir and turned it into a wide-open free port, a haven for smugglers, pirates and all manner of unsavory characters. Panatic and other patrol captains had begged Sector Command for a Star Destroyer or two to shut Zahir down for good, but somehow their requests never got heard.

Panatic found himself wishing the
Sentinel
was more than just a customs vessel. It would take at least a strike cruiser to capture the place In a straight fight.

Or… his eyes lit up as an idea struck him. Maybe he did have the right ship for the job.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, sir? You’re putting yourself at a terrible risk.”

Panatic glared at Sukal. “Your opinion is noted. Lieutenant. You’ll be in command while I’m gone. Run silent until you get my signal. Then I want you to come in fast and hit that place with everything we’ve got. Target ships docked on the ring, and the communications array. Do not engage any other ships in space— there’s too many of them, and they could easily box the
Sentinel
in and destroy her.”

He turned to regard his travelling companions. Sergeant Ivlik looked remarkably uncomfortable in a cheap civilian suit. Mace wore the same scruffy-looking clothes he had been captured in. Panatic had to drape himself in a huge prospector’s poncho to conceal his uniform. Thus attired, the three of them boarded the
Ordinary Trader
and parted company with the
Sentinel
in the dim outskirts of the system.

Panatic seated himself in the copilot’s chair and sat for a moment watching the stars before speaking. “I want to make a deal with you, Mace.”

“Music to my ears, Captain.”

“At Zahir we’ll be in your element, not mine. You know the smugglers and prospectors who do business there. I’m sure it would be tempting for you to reveal my identity and escape.”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of that.”

“But I can get those slaves released. You can’t. And I think you want your partner back. So here’s my offer: if you cooperate with me, I’ll see to it that she goes free. Your arrest is already logged, so I can’t let you go, but I won’t charge her.”

“Mighty generous of you.”

“I should add that I haven’t contacted Systems Command to see if either of you are wanted for treasonous activities. As far as I’m concerned, you’re an ordinary smuggler. Now will you give me your word that you’ll help me?”

Mace regarded Panatic silently for a moment. “You’ve got a deal.”

“Good. Sergeant, I think you can put away your weapon now.”

The ringed rock of Zahir grew large in the cockpit window as Mace brought the ship in. There were a dozen vessels docked at the ring or floating nearby. Most were scout ships or small freighters like the
Ordinary Trader
, but there were a few that stood out. Panatic eyed a bulky Corellian corvette nervously. In a stand-up fight the bigger ship could pound
Sentinel
to scrap.

A fancy yacht with gold-alloy plating on the hull was clamped to the docking ring. It looked familiar, but Panatic couldn’t place it and Mace’s computer was no help at all. Probably stolen, he decided.

The traffic controller sounded as if he was overdue for a lung bath. “Welcome to Zahir, crossroads of the sector. All docking fees must be paid in advance. You can dock at Lock 23.”

Beyond the airlock, Zahir was a dingy place. The broad corridor of the docking ring was full of dust and litter, and half the glow panels were dark. The walls were marked with graffiti and blaster burns. Twice they had to step over people sprawled on the floor, either drunk or dead.

At the entrance to one of the three tubes linking the docking ring to the central asteroid, they met what passed for customs on Zahir. A wrinkled old Twi’lek with a missing tentacle stopped them at the door while a couple of Gamorrean thugs stood by with blasters.