Chapter 8: A Pirate’s Tale

The dust billowed up in clouds as the Distant Slayer set down on a patch of land fairly detached from any of the settlements they had passed on the way in. There was no reason that anybody here would recognize the ship, but Vera wasn't going to take any chances. Also, there was already a lot of gang activity present, so the farther away from prying eyes they could be, the better.

  Since they still didn't know quite what they were looking for, the decision had been made that it would make more sense to split up. Lana would venture out and see if she could connect with any of her contacts (if they were still around), while Vera and Mako used their clout as bounty hunters to dig for information that way. It was also probably for the best that Lana stayed solo as much as possible; there was a chance that the Sith Empire didn't know that Vera was abetting her, and the longer they could delay that knowledge, the more time they'd have to pursue the Revanites unhindered.

  Lana watched Vera unload a sleek speeder bike from her ship, giving it a once over before turning back to the Sith.

  "You sure you don't want to take the bike?" Vera asked. "It's a lot faster than walking."

  "I'm sure." Lana smiled, walking up to stand in front of the Mandalorian. "Besides, there's two of you, and only one of me." Vera grunted, though whether in agreement or not Lana couldn’t tell. Reaching out, Lana trailed a finger down the cold beskar of Vera's helmet, tracing the curve of the cheek indentation. Laying her own gloved hand over Lana's, Vera gave a squeeze.

  "Meet you back here in a couple of days."

  Lana nodded, then the other woman dropped their hands and turned back to her speeder bike. Throwing her leg over it, she revved the engine as Mako trotted over, hopping on behind Vera and wrapping her arms around the hunter. Lana felt a twinge of jealousy, knowing the attractively taut muscles that Mako now had her hands resting on, but placated herself with the thought that she'd get to feel them later, without the barrier of Vera's bodysuit in the way. The whine of the engine increased, and then the pair of them shot off, racing west, toward one of the settlements they'd marked on their descent. Letting out a small sigh, Lana wrapped her cloak around her and pulled the hood over her head. It was a pretty minimal disguise, but better than nothing. Turning to the north, she squinted her eyes, barely able to make out the tops of the wind turbines that were present at the town that was her destination, and began to walk.

—

  For being a town that primarily serviced the surrounding farmlands, it was surprisingly up to date and well maintained. Lana wondered whether the old Jedi temple had been located near here in the days before they settled back on Tython. The buildings were mostly single stories, but were all in excellent condition. The walls sported minimal cracks or damage, the roofs all looked like they had been replaced within the past decade, and there were even colorful murals adorning some of the larger surfaces. As she'd seen from a distance, there was a cluster of large wind turbines, lazily twirling in the mild breeze that swept across the plains.

  Walking farther into town, it was easy to pick out which building was the cantina. Swoop bikes were parked haphazardly in front of it, and a flashing sign showing a drink and a Twi'lek dancer was jutting out from the overhang. Seemed no matter where you went, the bar scene was the same.

  The contact Lana was looking for was from a ways back; she hadn't talked with him in a while, and honestly wasn't even certain he was still running guns on Dantooine. There were a couple other options that she could attempt to track down, but this one was the one she trusted the most. Pulling her hood a little farther down her face, she stepped into the cantina, a cacophonous racket immediately assaulting her eardrums. Grimacing, she nonchalantly surveyed the room as she slowly made her way up to the bar, where a tall Ithorian was taking drink orders.

  "What'll it be?" The two mouths on either side of his neck moved in unison, giving his voice a deep reverberating sound. Glancing past his curved head, which ended with two eyes protruding from either side, she briefly surveyed the selection of bottles on the wall behind him.

  "I'll have a Calamari Xinphar and some information," Lana said casually, sliding across more credits than the drink was worth. What might have been a laugh came from the bartender, but he placed a hand over the credits and placed them behind the bar as he turned to grab her drink.

  "What kind of information?"

  "I'm looking for someone." Lana watched the Ithorian return with her drink, a bright pink liquid in a clear, tall glass. He placed it on the counter in front of her before stepping back and crossing his arms. Taking a quick sip, Lana kept her gaze trained on the bar as she elaborated. "Male Mirialan. Yellowish skin, light brown hair, usually in a braid down his back. Occasionally deals in … less than acceptable goods."

  "Piker Homm." Lana nodded her confirmation, feeling off to a good start that the Ithorian knew who she was talking about from such a brief description. "I know him. What do you need him for?"

  Leaning her elbows on the edge of the bar top, Lana took another sip. "Just need to talk to him."

  Another snort of laughter. "A lot of people want to talk these days, and somehow it often ends up with one less person to talk to." He paused, and Lana was afraid that was all she was going to get out of him. She always had the option to use the Force to help persuade him, but she was trying not to do anything that could identify her. Outing herself as a Force user would certainly not help that cause.

  Thankfully, the barkeep decided to keep talking, for one reason or another. "Comes in here every week or so, but he was just by yesterday so he probably won't be back for a while. If your need is a little more time sensitive, you could head over to the bounty hunters guild house. Might find him there."

  Another sip. She wasn't really a fan of the Xinphar, but it was a lot more palatable than some of the other options, and also had a much lower alcohol content. It'd take a lot to get her even buzzed, which was good. "Nah, not in that much of a hurry. What time does he usually come by."

  The Ithorian grunted. "On days that he comes by he's usually here early afternoon and stays through the evening."

  "I appreciate it." Lana knocked back the rest of her drink and slid the empty glass back across the bar. She gave another cursory evaluation of the rest of the clientele, making sure there wasn't anything of concern that stood out. Nope, just the standard cantina crowd. Giving the bartender a nod, she headed back out onto the street.

  Looks like it was time to find a place to stay.

—

It hadn't been difficult to find a room for the week. A few extra credits and she didn't need to even leave her name, just got the key and headed down the hallway. She sent a quick message to Vera letting her know that she probably would be here longer than the planned couple of days, then opened the door to her room. Although she had anticipated it being small (she had asked for the cheapest option, after all), Lana hadn't expected it to be this small. A single bed was in the corner, and there was just enough clearance between it and the door for her to swing it all the way open. On the opposing wall was an alcove with the refresher in it, and then the smallest desk imaginable was next to the alcove in front of the only window. There wasn't even a chair for it, since the foot of the bed extended almost to the edge of the desk itself. At least it was clean, Lana thought as she pulled the blinds shut and wedged herself onto the bed below the desk, pulling out her datapad to take some notes before resting.

—

The next several days were exceptionally boring. Lana spent the mornings and early afternoons either perusing data files in her shoebox of a room or strolling the town streets, being careful to avoid any unnecessary contact with other people. As midafternoon rolled around, she'd drop by the bar and nurse a drink at a corner table the entire evening, waiting for Piker to show up. Fortunately she only had to shoo away a couple interested patrons, though she did use the force to surreptitiously break the fingers of a patron who was getting a little too handsy with one of the dancers. He was sure surprised when they suddenly snapped, but nobody else paid him much mind and were happy to see him leave, clutching his wounded hand to his chest.

  Finally on the fourth day, Piker arrived. Lana was somewhat surprised at his entrance. Most of the underworld contacts she dealt with were fairly rowdy, making a big entrance when they could. Piker was so lowkey that if Lana hadn't specifically been on the lookout for him, she might have missed him slipping into the cantina altogether. She tracked him from underneath her hood as he made his way up to the bar, ordered a drink, and took it into a secluded booth on the other side of the space. He hadn't glanced her way once, so hopefully that meant that the Ithorian hadn't tipped him off. She didn't want to enter the conversation with Piker already on the defensive.

  After delaying a suitable amount of time, Lana wrapped her fingers around her half empty Xinphar and lazily made her way over to Piker's table, pausing occasionally as she moved to deflect attention away from herself. The Mirialan still hadn't moved from his booth, and nobody else had joined him. Lana crossed the last bit of distance and slid herself into the seat across from him. She saw his eyebrows raise in surprise, and the telltale sign of his hand going to a blaster.

  "That's how you're going to greet me?" she asked, tilting her head back so he could see her face. Instantly he froze, a look of fear and curiosity in his eyes. Though she was tempted to let him stew in his own nervous thoughts, it was probably better to calm his nerves early so he didn't bolt or do something else equally inconvenient. "Calm down Piker, I'm just here with some questions."

  A nervous giggle bubbled out of the man across from her. Bringing both his hands up to the table and gripping his drink tightly, he shot an almost imperceptible glance toward the door.

  "No need to run," Lana said calmly. "Just a few questions and I'm out of your hair."

  "But what if I don't have the answers you're looking for?" Lana just smiled, and a little of the fear that had been present before crept back into Piker's gaze.

  Truthfully, it didn't matter if he had answers for her or not. There was nothing to indicate he knew anything about the Revanites or where they might be based, he was just the first contact on her list. But bringing back just a touch of fear could help cut through some of the lies he may have been tempted to weave.

  "I'm looking for a cult." Right to the point. No reason to waste time beating around the bush, though she did want to feel out his responses in case it felt like he had a more personal connection. While it could turn out extremely beneficial if Piker was working directly with the Revanites, it was more likely to be a complication, given how fanatical most of the cultists appeared to be.

  "You're going to have to give me more than that," the Mirialan responded, before taking a gulp of his drink. "There's a lot of cults around the galaxy."

  Lana mulled over how best to proceed. How much information was too much in this situation? "Let's say this cult is fairly well known, but generally brushed off as fanatical, but harmless." Piker's eyes widened slightly, and his breathing sped up. Either a good sign or a very, very bad one. "I have cause to believe they are increasing their influence and are becoming far from harmless."

  "Holy shit," Piker muttered under his breath. He locked eyes with Lana, then looked away quickly, as if embarrassed by his reaction. Taking another swig of his drink, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before speaking. "You're talking about the Revanites, aren't you?" A simple raise of the eyebrow was all that Lana gave him for confirmation. Easier to let him draw his own conclusions, which could in turn lead to more information being revealed. "That crazy fuck was actually telling the truth."

  "Elaborate."

  "Oh, uh, this Zabrak chick, she's part of a pirate group  called the Nova Blades. I supply the occasional shipment to them, usually pretty basic stuff. They're pretty steady state in their business, not a big need for new equipment." Nervously, he went to take another drink, only to find his glass empty. Sliding it away grumpily, Piker crossed his arms and leaned a little farther across the table. "Suddenly a few cycles ago, she comes to me with a big shopping list. I'm talking like their past ten orders combined. And a lot of this is shit that they've never asked for before, more high-end stuff." He flicks his eyes toward the rest of the cantina, before returning his focus to Lana. "I didn't ask what it was for, because I'm a professional, but this chick can't help but start yapping. Starts going on and on about this great new gig the Nova Blades have with the Revanites, and there's going to be a galaxy-wide revolution, and all sorts of other crazy shit. Now obviously, I just smile and laugh at the right times until we finish the transaction, and then don't think a thing of it because come on: the Revanites? Everyone knows they're that wacky cult that hangs out on Dromund Kass worshiping a dude who's been dead for 300 years." Piker took a deep breath, then leaned forward ever further. "But now you're here, and you're saying that she was telling the truth?"

  Lana raised a single shoulder, then let it drop back down. "Thanks for the info Piker. Next round is on me." Pulling a credit chip out of her robes, she dropped it on the table and stood up to leave.

  "What, that's it? That's all you needed?" Piker's mouth had dropped open in astonishment, certain that his night was going in a far worse direction than a five minute conversation and a free drink.

  "That's all I need from you. Now forget you saw me here tonight." Lana's yellow eyes blazed as she stared Piker down, who responded with a gulp and a nod. Satisfied that he wouldn't talk, Lana spun on her heel and quickly exited the cantina, making her way down the darkened streets to the inn where her tiny room was. Stepping into the lobby, there was nobody behind the desk, which suited her just fine. She moved down the hallway like a shadow, reaching her door but stopping abruptly, her keycard outstretched.

There was somebody in her room.