Chapter XVII – Decisions,
Decisions… Part I
Approximately 1500
“Well, that was an interesting turn of events,”
Vaarn said to himself as he took off the Montique
Resort employee uniform and threw it aside.
Morphing back into his usual human form, he put his
own clothes back on, grabbed the bag beside him and
left the employee changing area. “Good thing I saw
Jedi Kenobi and his friends leaving,” he commented
as he walked through the resorts hallway. “It gave
me the perfect opportunity to search his suite; then
again, I hadn’t expected the missus to be there…”
Vaarn looked as though he was in deep thought. “She
must have been in one of those meditations the Jedi
do all the time,” he deduced. “She didn’t have any
exposure markings like Mara did and as a Jedi I know
she would’ve woken up. Still…if she had been
coherent I would have gone back to my original plan.
But since I was able to improvise…” He sniggered. “I
found what I came to Kuryn for in the first place.
Although I have to admit that was a complete
surprise.” Vaarn held the nondescript bag aloft and
laughed the rest of the way down the hallway.
__________________________________*****__________________________________
Xar’ek sank into the pilot seat of the cockpit in
Mara’s ship in disbelief. He was still trying to
absorb everything the Jedi Master had just relayed
to him and had found it all incredible.
“Well, at least you had a few days of your honeymoon
before it all feel apart.”
Obi-Wan glared at the Corellian, but displayed no
other form of annoyance. “Yes, we were having a
wonderful time,” he amiably replied.
Xar’ek wasn’t sure if the Jedi’s look was one of
smugness or general congeniality but the thought of
the couple having such a grand time made him
inwardly wince. “So…we need to get the antidote. Any
ideas for that?” He tried to sound casual but even
he doubted the minor unease in his voice.
“We?” Obi-Wan asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Uh,
yeah, WE!” Xar’ek replied, surprised at the
response. “Either I can go with you or meet you
there, but no matter what I’m in!”
“Xar’ek, I can handle this myself. I am a Jedi,
remember?” Obi-Wan’s thinly veiled hauteur did
nothing to improve the situation.
“A
detail that never leaves my memory,” Xar’ek snidely
retorted.
Cela
spoke up before things really got out of control.
“I’m going too!” Because if I don’t you two will
likely kill each other.
The
Jedi turned toward the girl and smiled. “I know you
want to help but –”
Cela
cut him off and retorted, “I will help! I’m a
natural when it comes to stealing!” She stood her
ground in spite of realizing just what she had said.
“Oh?” Xar’ek and Obi-Wan said simultaneously, their
eyes transfixed on the teenager.
Cela’s cheeks flushed crimson. “Uh…yeah…I, uh, kinda
have a talent for it,” she slowly admitted.
“Interesting.” Obi-Wan reached up to stroke his
goatee, infused charmingly with red and gray.
“Interesting?” Xar’ek repeated, surprised at the
Jedi’s reaction, or lack thereof.
“Yes…Reynard isn’t the type of person to hand over
his antidote. Not without the right price, of
course, which I hardly believe the New Republic will
pay for. Not for a brigand like Mara Jade.”
“Are
you suggesting what I think you are?” Xar’ek
couldn’t believe what was happening. Had the Jedi
changed so much since the war with the Empire, since
he had served with the Rebel Alliance? Could the
stuffy old fossil possibly have changed into a more
personable human being?
“I’m
not suggesting anything…yet. I need to speak to the
Supreme Chancellor and the Jedi Council.”
Xar’ek shook his head and snorted. “Same ol’
Obi-Wan. You still can’t make a move without their
blessing!”
The
Jedi Master looked at the smuggler with
indifference. “Yes, I can. But they need to be
apprised of the situation.”
“Well, I don’t need anyone’s permission to act,”
Xar’ek retorted, sounding acerbic.
“Yes, I remember you resigned shortly after the war
ended.” Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest.
“Responsibility can be a burden, can it not?”
Xar’ek was about to respond, and not kindly, but
Cela stepped in between the two men. She extended
her arms out toward each of them, acting as a
barrier and glared at both of them in turn.
“Stop this! What is it with you two? And what would
Sakoya say to this arguing? Something tells me she
wouldn’t like it.”
The
two men continued to stare at one another.
“You
know, I’m about to toss each of you out of here and
go get the antidote myself! You both would probably
still be arguing by the time I got back!”
Silence.
“Well?” Cela demanded, her brow wrinkled and her
eyes narrowed in annoyance.
It
took a few minutes but Obi-Wan extended his hand
first. “She’s right. We shouldn’t be antagonizing
one another. I apologize for my behavior.”
Reluctantly, Xar’ek held out his and the two shook
hands. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “By the way, I think
I found the toxin you’re talking about – all of it.”
__________________________________*****__________________________________
Regan Sile had made herself comfortable in the suite
shared by the Clawdite’s in Reynard’s employ. So
much so that she took it upon herself to search the
chambers, in the event that they weren’t forthright
with their information.
Unfortunately, she found nothing of value and so she
sat in one of the plush chairs and decided she would
incorporate her own measures.
Pushing her dark hair out of the way, she took hold
of her cybernetic right ear and maneuvered it until
it detached and dropped into her hand. Smiling with
satisfaction at her creator’s ingenuity, she bent
down and attached the pliable ear to the underside
of her chair, utilizing the built-in miniscule
prongs to hold it in place.
And
then she waited.
Smiling and laughing over his good fortune, Vaarn
keyed in the electronic code to his suite and
stepped inside as the durasteel door slid open.
He
immediately drew his weapon upon seeing a woman, a
very elegant, beautiful woman, making herself at
home in his room.
“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t blast you into
tiny pieces,” he gruffly said.
“Because,” she slowly stood up, using her curvaceous
body as a charm to entice him and replied, “you
don’t know who I am.”
“I
don’t care who you are,” he growled, his eyes
narrowing in annoyance.
“You
will.” She waltzed forward, undaunted by the weapon
pointed directly at her.
“I
don’t like killing women, but that doesn’t mean I
won’t – beauty makes no difference to me.”
Regan glanced down at the bag held in Vaarn’s other
hand. “I hope that’s not laundry.”
Vaarn’s eyes never left her as he said, “Its
contents aren’t your affair.”
Regan took a deep breath, as if mocking the
Clawdite. “Oh, I’m afraid it is,” she retorted, her
voice drenched with sarcasm, “I’m an agent of
Reynard Sindre.”
“Pah,” Vaarn spat. “Never heard o’ ‘em.”
“Oh,
I beg to differ,” she caustically remarked. “Mr.
Vaarn Nurgh.”
If
the Clawdite felt any unease it wasn’t detectable.
His face remained impassive even though his mind was
curious. “So you have a name. Should I be impressed?
You could have gotten that easily enough.”
“Tsk, tsk,” Regan deviously commented, enjoying the
exchange as she halted her advance. “Oh, I know all
about you, Mr. Nurgh. Reynard has quite a file and
he shared it with me. He describes you as
calculating…and I would have to concur with that
assessment.”
“Does it look like your opinion matters to me?” he
shot back.
Regan snickered, amused by his tart remarks. “Not in
the least. However, Reynard did wish for me to
convey a message to you and your partner.”
“Oh,
he did, did he?”
Regan stared at the man in an appreciate way. His
exterior was gruff and his tongue acerbic, still she
had no doubt he was a man who would achieve his
objective.
“If
you’re one of Reynard’s agents – prove it,” he
demanded, ignoring her scrutinizing glare.
“Well,” she purred, “unlike you I have no decoration
around my neck. My loyalty is programmed; quite
ingeniously I must say, in my cerebral cortex. It’s
tamperproof, just like yours.”
“That’s still not proof.” Vaarn’s weapon was now
mere centimeters from the woman’s forehead.
She
continued to mock him with feigned innocence as she
asked, “You’re not aiming at my heart?”
“I
like a clean, swift kill. Besides, I doubt you have
one, not that I could find it anyway.”
She
flashed a wicked smile. “A sense of humor, I admire
that.”
“Again, should I be impressed?” Vaarn sneered,
unmoved.
Delighting in her adversary’s boldness, Regan
commented, “You’re much different than your partner.
I left him squirming in that tavern. You –” Her eyes
moved appreciatively down his body and then back up
again, “appear to be a more worthy adversary.”
Vaarn’s finger began to tighten on the trigger of
his hold-out blaster. “Oh, I assure you I am. Now,
back off before my finger gets itchy.”
Regan knew by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t
playing a game; he would shoot her where she stood
if she didn’t do as he said. Wordlessly, she stepped
back a few steps and stared hard at him.
“I
asked for proof of your association.”
Regan wasn’t accustomed to being on the offensive.
Ever since her inception she had been the dominant
one, always in control, and now the role was
reversed – and she didn’t like it. Only Reynard was
her Master, the only one privileged enough to order
her around, but he was also her creator – she had no
choice but to do his bidding.
“Send a transmission to Reynard,” she offered.
Vaarn didn’t answer. He studied the woman and
finally asked, “Why are you here?”
Regan arched her back as an air of haughtiness
swirled around her. “To give Vaarn Nurgh and Rheu
Skeutrn a warning.”
“Why?” Vaarn looked skeptical and then just as
quickly he shook his head and snickered. “Because we
haven’t found his precious shipment, right?”
“MX-492 to be more precise,” Regan snapped.
“What’s its code name? If you work for Reynard in
the capacity I’m surmising you’ll know it.”
Regan smiled – she was beginning to like this man –
and answered, “Dust in the wind.”
“There are only a few people who know that and I can
count the number on one hand.” Vaarn lowered his
weapon and tucked it into its holster. “I didn’t get
your name…”
“You
didn’t bother to ask…until now,” she retorted with a
smile. “I’m Regan Sile.”
“I
haven’t seen you before, how long have you worked
for Reynard?” Vaarn had relaxed his stance somewhat,
although not entirely.
“He
brought me online a few months ago.”
Puzzled, Vaarn furrowed his brow and looked at her.
“Online?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m a cyborg.” Regan proudly replied.
“Uh,
I had to ask,” Vaarn said under his breath.
“Well, you can go back to Reynard, I have the
situation under control.”
Regan’s eyes roamed to the bag the Clawdite was
still carrying. “There?” she indicated to the plain,
dark sack.
“I
can’t answer your question at the moment, but if you
don’t mind I have things to attend to,” he replied
respectfully and then stepped aside, gesturing
toward the door.
Her
dark eyes fixated on him as if daring him to do
something irrational. “Ah, but I do mind,” she
countered, arching one eyebrow.
Vaarn’s own smoky colored orbs joined in the battle
of wills. He wasn’t about to allow this creature to
interfere with his plan, but he also knew the
strength of a cyborg. Then there was the likelihood
that Reynard had given his vixen nothing but the
best, which made him pause in his aggression. “Tell
you what…return back to Reynard and tell him I will
complete this mission – successfully! But sending
you does nothing to improve my progress.”
Regan’s eyes shifted to the bag in Vaarn’s hand.
“And that?” she harshly asked.
The
Clawdite was growing exasperated but trying not to
show it. “Remnants of the lousy weather today.”
Regan considered him a moment before she finally
spoke. “Very well… I will leave for now, but expect
to see me again…soon.” She made sure she
emphasized her last word.
Vaarn didn’t offer a comment in return. Instead, he
dipped his head toward his chest and stepped aside
further. “I look forward to it,” he stated with a
phony smile.
Regan brushed by him on her way out only to pause at
the metallic door after it had slid open. Looking
over her shoulder, she glanced back at him and then
wordlessly turned back around and was gone.
Vaarn glared at the closed door and reached for his
blaster. “No, no time for that,” he chided himself
and let go of the weapon. “I’ve had enough of this
demented bastard. This time I’m going to do it my
way.” He lifted up the bag until it was eye level
and grinned. “Yes, my way!” Reaching into a pocket,
he withdrew a comlink and activated it. “Rheu! Get
back to the room!” he brusquely ordered.
Had
his partner called him earlier, Rheu wouldn’t have
been able to answer as he lay on the floor writhing
in pain. However, he had since physically recovered
from his ordeal, although mentally he was still very
much vexed.
“What about this miserable worm you left me with?”
he disgustingly asked.
“No
longer important. You can kill him or turn him in
for the bounty on his head – your call – just get
back here soon!”
“Aye, out,” Rheu answered with a gleam in his eye
and strolled over to the gambling table.
“Yeah, what?” Garen contemptuously asked as he
looked up at the man who suddenly stood beside him.
Rheu
flashed a mischievous smile. “Looks like I get to
dump you off and collect some bounty.”
“Huh?” Garen’s eyes opened wide. “Uh, c’mon, um…” He
furiously looked around trying to find some
unattended credits. “I thought we had a deal!” he
nervously retorted.
Rheu
laughed out loud and kept laughing, drawing the
stares of curious bystanders. Once he caught his
breath he replied, “I think you’re suffering from
delusions. C’mon,” he quickly grabbed Garen by the
arm and was about to haul him off the chair when the
assassin/gambler stood on his own.
“Ow,
you’ve got a grip there, man!” Garen whined.
“A
mere demonstration.” Rheu rolled his eyes and began
to force the other man to walk.
“Wait a minute!” Garen protested. “I-I can help you
guys!”
The
Clawdite laughed again but continued on his way.
“With what?”
“Mara for one an-and I-I…”
Rheu
cut him off with a shake of his head. “I’ve had
enough of you, worm,” he snarled. “Some assassin you
are,” he added with obvious disgust.
Garen shrugged not knowing what else to do or say as
the Clawdite nearly dragged him out of the tavern.
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