Chapter Seventeen (Patreon)

Quest: First Mission!

Complete your first mission

Reward: 3,000 experience points

Failure: -2,000 experience points

Quest: Savior

Save Kaleesh eggs from being eaten.

Reward: 10 experience points per egg, impress the Kaleesh

Failure: Possible death and maiming

Quest: Grievous Wrongs

Prevent the Huk War from happening

Reward: 500 experience points, General Grievous does not emerge

Failure: -500 experience points, General Grievous will take part in the Clone Wars

The damaged freighter settled down with a disturbing thunk. Ali’ya hid a wince. For all that actually flying--and being the one to chart their hyperspace routes--had improved her abilities she knew fixing whatever was wrong with the engines was beyond her.

“We may have to seek another way off-planet.” Evidently her Master had reached the same conclusion.

“There’s a lot of ships here.”

“More than I would have guessed, for such a remote world,” Master Bulq said. “Tell me padawan, what do you feel.”

Ali’ya closed her eyes, reaching out with the Force. She brushed against ice, against fire, against impotent and righteous rage. Greed sat atop the pile, placing itself alongside gluttony at the head of an unholy table. “Darkness,” Ali’ya said. “Suffering.”

“The sentients aboard these ships may not be willing,” Master Bulq said quietly. “I had hoped for some time before you saw such evils--”

“I was born in the underworld of Coruscant,” Ali’ya cut in. “I have seen slavery before.”

“Ah. Yes. In that case, we should be off before the port officials notice our delay.” True to her master’s words, a tall insectoid official paced in front of their ship. Wearing ornate silks covered by exhaust and dust, the Yam’rii clicked at them.

“Your documents,” they demanded.

“Here,” Master Bulq said, handing over a holoprojection.

“Captain Quay?”

“That is me,” Master Bulq agreed. His voice was calm though the flexing muscle in his jaw belied his tension. After more than a year as his Padawan, Ali’ya was familiar with her master’s disdain for his people’s religion.

“Rated for foodstuffs and ores,” the official continued. “Not much of that here, unless you’re talking special cargo.”

“I fail to see what business that is of yours.”

“Watch your tongue!” the Yam’rii spat back. “If you wish to leave my port with those eggs you will give me the respect I deserve!”

“Of course,” Master Bulq offered. The Yam’rii seemed to take that as an apology. Ali’ya knew better.

Eggs? Master Bulq passed through their bond.

Let us hope my vision was wrong, Ali’ya passed back. She knew it wasn’t. Perhaps he can guide us to the warehouse?

“I am unfamiliar with this spaceport,” Master Bulq continued. “Might I ask you to point me in the right direction for the eggs? I would of course be willing to compensate you.”

“No credits.”

“Of course not,” Master Bulq gave a false smile. “Hutt currency.”

The Yam’rii sneered, but accepted the gold coins. “That way,” he said. Pointing towards the far end of the spaceport. “They’re kept in stasis, but it fades once they’re out of the building. And don’t grab more than you bought. I don’t want to have to clean up after another execution.”

*

That was surprisingly easy, Ali’ya thought, staring at the rows upon rows of Kaleesh eggs.

It is far from over, Master Bulq reminded her. Nor is this sufficient proof.

What? Ali’ya thought incredulously. How can it not be? We have proof of their selling sentient eggs!

They could claim it was part of an adoption scheme, Master Bulq replied. The excuse has worked before.

But--

Patience, Padawan. Our mission is not yet over.

Ali’ya nodded hesitantly. We need to take as many as we can.

“Load up the cargo,” Master Bulq ordered, his pirate-captain persona reasserting itself. “I’ll ready the ship.” We’ll need something larger for these.

Perhaps the Barloz? Ali’ya suggested. She took hold of the hovercart and began placing pallets of eggs onto the cart. Each one weighted some three hundred pounds. Ali’ya, though strong for her age (even given her species) was not yet strong enough to manage such heft with ease. Instead she bolstered herself with the Force. Simply levitating them down would have been easier, but they could not out themselves as Jedi. Not yet.

The hovercart was full and she’d barely made a dent into the warehouse. She reached out with the Force, counting the number of lives-that-could-be. Twenty-eight thousand, three hundred four. Damn it, I need more time.

Why are you doing this? a sneaking voice asked. Is it truly for the lives that could be? Or is it just for the experience points?

Shut up, Ali’ya though, shoving away the unwanted presence. She searched for another hovercart. There were only two. Ali’ya loaded up the second one as quickly as she could. It was not enough. She would need to make multiple trips. There was no other option.

Hiding herself in the Force as best she could, Ali’ya took the two hovercarts from the warehouse. The guards--four Yam’rii in durasteel armor--paid her no attention. Neither did the port officials, though that meant she needed to open the gates herself. Walking ahead of her precious cargo, Ali’ya darted around the exhaust vents of ships and under cooling engines. She cut across the spaceport, making a beeline for the Barloz-class freighter.

Padawan, her master called out as she neared it. I have secured a ship. Modified HT-2200, by the exit closest to you. Quickly backtracking, Ali’ya nearly lost control over her cloak when she saw a half-dozen Yam’rii warriors marching across the port. Instead she froze, pulling the Force towards her and her protectees with desperation. They passed her by without a glance. The same could not be said for the Trandoshian who crossed their path. He had barely time to speak, stepping in front of the warriors, before being cut down by the Yam’rii’s bladelike limbs.

Ali’ya gulped, and swiftly headed towards the large ship her master commandeered. The design was simple. Blocky. Practically as far from aerodynamic as one could get. Yet, for long-range space travel it was excellent. The HT-2200 design was simple: a large, well-protected cockpit attached to two much larger rectangular prisms for cargo. If necessary the cockpit--which housed the life support, shields, engines, hyperdrive, and one of the two laser cannons--could be separated from the cargo holds, allowing for a swifter retreat. The ship, under its traditional design, was also slow, burdensome, poorly defended, expensive to maintain, and required a substantial amount of power. The modified HT-2200 before her had clearly solved some of those flaws. Additional--and superior--engines were added to the rear of the cargo holds. Eight additional laser cannons were bolted onto the hull, and if the Incom engines were any indication the power supply had likely been upgraded as well.

Tearing her eyes from the upgraded ship, Ali’ya sent a quick thought of open-please down her training bond. Not a minute later, she was pulling the two hovercarts into the first cargo hold. Activating the environmental controls to increase the air moisture--the only requirement she’d been able to find about Kaleesh eggs, since the species lived in Wild Space and took their privacy quite seriously--Ali’ya immediately began unloading the pallets of eggs, using the Force to move swiftly and carefully.

“Padawan?”

Ali’ya did not turn at the voice. She did not hesitate. She moved the last pallet off the first hovercart and moved to the second. “I need to make a second trip.”

“We don’t have time.”

At that Ali’ya turned, her eyes sharp and glaring. “We don’t have time?” She hissed incredulously. “There are eggs down there. They aren’t people yet, but they certainly don’t deserve to be eaten like--”

“Enough!” Master Bulq declared. His Force presence flared, age-experience-exasperation overwhelming her. Ali’ya took a step back. “The Yam’rii know we are here. If we wish to save any of the eggs, we must do so now.”

“Master--”

“Now, padawan.”

Ali’ya grimaced. It felt wrong. It was wrong. They were leaving behind thousands. Yet her master was also right. If the Yam’rii closed the spaceport it would all be for nothing.

“Where are we going?”

“Khedive.”

Ali’ya allowed herself to relax slightly. They had proof now. Maybe not enough for the Galactic Senate, but enough for the Kaleesh. With the planet still under their legal control, they could force the Yam’rii out.

Unless the Yam’rii fight, Ali’ya remembered, her mind drawn back to articles she’d once read about early British India. They have better armor, weapons, and ships. They are stronger. They have better connections with the outside world. But they are outnumbered. Force, please let that be enough.

Ali’ya sat down in the cargo hold and meditated. She reached for the Force, begging for comfort and assurance. She found some in the warm lights of the Force. Not what she wanted, for there were no guarantees in the future, but it was enough. For now, it had to be. So Ali’ya continued her meditation as they flew across the planet. It was only the Quest alert popping up that allowed Ali’ya to come to before they landed.

Quest: Savior Completed!

Save Kaleesh eggs from being eaten.

Reward: 10 experience points per egg, impress the Kaleesh. 2,400 eggs x 10 experience =24,000 experience points

Bonus Quest: Leave the spaceport without being detected

Bonus Reward: +50 Stealth, + 50 Force Cloak

Bonus Quest: Save more than 1,000 eggs

Bonus Reward: +10 to Charisma when interacting with Kaleesh

Bonus Quest: Save more than 10,000 eggs Failed

Bonus Quest: Save all 28,000+ eggs in the warehouse Failed

One of the quests might be over, but the mission wasn’t. Ali’ya did not have a good feeling for how that would bode.