Chapter 6 – The Stakeout

Outside of Stark’s Cantina

Old Capitol District, Novaterra, Union of Federated Systems

Sunday, 16 September 3488

            While most of the usual day-to-day activities of Novaterra society occurred where the bright suns of day washed over towering skyscrapers and artificial canyons where speeders flitted back and forth, it was below that metal layer where most of the 600 billion citizens made their home. A planet built up over a millennium of sprawl thanks to the post-jump drive boom, Novaterra’s surface had been quickly covered with structures and filled with species from all over the galaxy. When the planet ran out of space they built over the existing city with another, and then another over that. In the 1100 years since the landing of the first primitive generation ship from Old Terra – the Human homeworld also known as Earth – Novaterra’s surface had been covered again and again, leaving a sprawling network of metal caverns and passageways below the current surface. The further one went down the less authority any of the surface governments had, leading to a divided patchwork of little fiefdoms ruled over by everyone from mob bosses to disaffected generals and private militias, a sampling of just about every species the galaxy had to offer packed beneath the sunlight of Novaterra proper. There were at least 962 levels of the Novaterra – counting from bottom up – but in reality there were probably many more, and out of the few sapients that ever came back from the first hundred levels, none had survived going deeper than Level 1. Stories abounded as to what happened that low on Novaterra’s surface, but nothing that could possibly hope to be substantiated.

            Javyar currently stood at the junction of two avenues on Novaterra’s 855 Level, which was close enough to the surface to be considered one of those “civilized” levels where Novaterra government had control, yet far enough down that it became a meeting place for all sorts of undesirable types and the interested citizens who caroused with them. Once the capitol district of Novaterra before several more levels had been added on top of it – and the government moving along with it – this level contained many of the trappings of a ritzy district long-since past its prime. Tall, ornate skyscrapers stretched sixty stories into the sky, or at least the massive metal roof which served as sky for this level.  The entire district was bathed in darkness save the sickly lighting which flickered on and off from streetlamps and building windows, showing exactly how much public money made it down this far. 

            “The Senator’s name is Hanshal Korgwesh. I presume you know of him?”

            Javyar grinned, leaning back against the old brick of the building. “Old Hanshal has gotten himself wrapped up in this whole mess, has he? I presume one of his many illicit dealings has finally come back to haunt him.” He had never met the Parfful personally but had spent enough time in the underworld to know the sort of company that Korgwesh was said to keep.

            “I wouldn’t know anything about that.” Theck grunted in reply over the private channel. “All that Vess could tell the Captain and I was that his son disappeared about a week before Sethell’s daughter, and nobody’s heard from him since.” As the man spoke, Javyar kept his eyes trained on the entrance to the run-down bar across the street. A neon sign written in a bad imitation of the rounded Aquish script marked the place as Stark’s Cantina. A group of two Humans and a Dorylaetian stumbled out of the establishment, but none that Javyar recognized. 

            “Have you considered that the boy’s likely dead?” Javyar asked. “Hanshal Korgwesh has not a small number of enemies, and none of them the saintly types you all proport to be.”

An impatient grumble from Theck. “That was the assumption, but its impossible to say without more information. When you talk to your contact, be sure to mention it.”

            “You know I will,” Javyar replied. “If he knows anything, he’s going to sing.”

            “And try not to beat this one senseless, will you? The Captain said…”

            “Relax, big guy,” Javyar interrupted, vividly recalling the well-deserved maiming he had given the last contact. “The Captain and I had a long talk about that, and I told her I was sorry. I’m a reformed Parfful, now.”

            A snort. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

            Javyar rubbed one of his whiskers. “The Captain even sent the techhead with me to make sure I behaved; what else do you want?” He turned his gaze down the dark street to where Brextallor sat huddled up on a rickety old bench. The Proximan, feet barely making it to the edge of the seat, was simply staring forward. He seemed to be taking not notice of anything or anyone, simply enjoying the evening or waiting for someone. Javyar knew better, however, the goggles currently over Brex’s eyes not what they seemed. One could just barely make out a muted glow emanating from the edges of the spectacles, the only visible hint of the computer screens currently scrolling across their lenses. The goggles were hooked up to the brain-computer implant that the Proximan had, meaning that he access to a whole computer system replete with heads-up display in his eyes. This system was uplinked to several of the street cameras around the vicinity of the bar and Brex sat poised to spot if their contact was looking to exit from anywhere other than the front door. While Javyar preferred doing things the old-fashioned way, he couldn’t deny that it helped to have an extra pair of eyes, especially those of a Proximan.

            “Just do what we need you to do and try not to be yourself.” Theck answered.

            Javyar grinned. “Now that would be a horrible waste of my charm and charisma.”

            Theck didn’t even bother with that one. “Let us know what you find. Zealot-4 out.” A tone beeped in Javyar’s ear, indicating that the channel was closed. Javyar returned to his vigil, eyes locked on the entrance to the bar. A group of Vorrishi were the next to saunter out, their stench nearly wafting right across the street.

            “What did Four have to say?” Came Brex’s raspy, disinterested voice. Javyar looked across the street at the Proximan, still huddled up on that bench. Next to him was a large planter holding a long-dead plant, the large stone base working well to hide the Proximan from the view of the bar. As usual Brex’s was paying attention to nothing save the computer on his face, and Javyar thought it best to look up at the camera mounted above him when he gave his response.

            “We have another senator to ask about.” He replied. “It sounds like there’s more than one truant child.”

            A shred of interest came to the Proximan’s voice. “Is that related to what the Captain said her friend was keeping secret?

            “I suppose so,” Javyar replied.

            “Wow,” Brex breathed. “So, the Captain was right, after all!”

            “About certain things,” Javyar replied. Another group exiting the bar, this one mixed between Parfful and a pair of Quorthwenne. Their contact still wasn’t in sight. “There’s still the element of kidnapping that has yet to present itself.”

            “Accurate,” Brex replied. “But your confident that your friend would be able to assist us, correct?”

            Javyar stroked the fur under his chin. ‘Friend’ wasn’t exactly the correct word to use to describe the relationship he had with the person they were here to meet. “Sure,” He said. “Something like that.”

More movement at the bar, as this time a much larger group began to filter out. The massing of beings in the door – none familiar along the edges – made it difficult to pick out those shrouded inside the group. It was just the sort of trick that Javyar knew their contact loved to employ. “You got a better angle of that group?” He asked Brextallor. “Can you see the middle?”

            “Let me just…” A pause. “Yes! Do you think any of these are our guy?”

            Javyar continued to move his gaze from face to face but still couldn’t catch enough of the ones in the middle from this angle. “Do you see a Freelysh in there?” He asked, indicating the squid-faced species of which their contact was one.

            There was a brief pause. “No. No Freelysh here.”

            Javyar grunted. “Looks like we’re going to be out here a while.”

            A few minutes of silence passed, before Brex spoke again. “So, who is this friend of yours, anyway?”

            Javyar eyed the security camera. “Oh, so now you want a briefing? You were more than content to ignore us back on the ship.”

            “You were not even there,” Came the even reply.

            Javyar shrugged. “Sure, I was elsewhere, but at least I called in and was engaged in the discussion.”

            “There was nothing more for me to add that would have swayed the discussion otherwise, even if I was involved.” Brex countered.

            Javyar considered that point, snickering. “You sure got that right. This crew couldn’t care less what my opinions are.” He agreed. After a minute, he added: “The guy we’re looking for is named Pendrood.  He’s a skittish little Freelysh, I worked with him a couple of times back when I was still affiliated with the Syndicate. He’s a middleman of sorts; the one who sapients go to when they need dirty work done, but don’t know who best to hire.”

            “Sounds resourceful,” Brex replied, his interest already clearly waning.

            “He knows who’s who in the Novaterra underworld. If anyone coordinated an alleged kidnapping of a senator’s kid, he would know who. Or at least be able to point us in the right direction.”

            “And you’re sure he’s here?”

            Javyar nodded, running his eyes over the exit to the bar again. Still no Freelysh. “This is his usual hangout. He and Stark go way back.” Stark, the proprietor of the establishment, had himself been a player in the very same circles back in his younger years. An overweight Human with a bad temper, the story went that the man had received a gut shot from an angry Vorrishi on some job gone bad, nearly paralyzing him. Whatever back-alley doctor he had gotten to fix the wound had done a poor job, finishing the work the bullet had started. No cybernetics or attachments quite fixed his disability, eventually leading to his retirement. Now he ran this bar, catering to the same types of sapients he once worked with. Pendrood was one such regular.

            “If we know he’s in there, why aren’t we just charging right in to see him?”

            Javyar offered a half-smile. “Pendrood and I had a rather…acrimonious disagreement last we met.” That was one way to say that the slippery little Freelysh had ripped him off and tried to double cross him.

            “Do I even want to know the details?” Brex asked.

            Javyar shook his head. “It’s probably better you didn’t. But regardless, the second he sees me, he’s right out the back door. Like I said, he and Stark go way back, so the good barman would undoubtedly make us and warn him before we got two steps in there.”

            “Understood.” Brex replied. “I have another group of people exiting the bar.”

            Excited, Javyar turned his gaze back to the entrance. Indeed, a massing of perhaps fifteen sapients all filed out at one time, joining the even larger crowd which had gathered nearby. Javyar didn’t see anyone remotely matching Pendood’s description at the periphery of the group, but again couldn’t get a read on those closer to the center. “Do you have eyes on him?”

            “Let me see…” A pause “Yes! There’s one Freelysh, male. Is this him?”

            “Sounds promising.” Javyar replied. “What color is he?” Another pause.

            “Hard to tell,” Brex replied. “The angle on this camera isn’t great.”

            Javyar waited for the group to disperse, so he could gain sight on the squid-faced sapient. When they did, he found the skittish gaze of a particularly yellow and sallow-faced Freelysh looking in every which direction. Nine tentacles hug down from his mouth in almost beard-like fashion, the tenth half cut off. His flat nose was more pronounced than most Freelysh, affording a bit of definition beyond the simple parallel slits. Together these were the two telltale signs that this was indeed their intended target, Pendrood. “That’s him.”

            “What’s our plan of approach?” Brex asked.

            Javyar took a step back into the shadows of the alley as Pendrood reached the end of the opposite block, the sapient sending his large, orange-eyed gaze over his surroundings. The Freelysh may have been one of the more skittish goons that Javyar had known, but that only made him even more cautious and difficult to catch unawares. “We need to follow him and get him alone,” Javyar replied. “And I think it best if you led the way; he knows my face and – well – like I said about our disagreement…”

            “Copy,” The Proximan slid off of his bench and began hurrying as fast as his small legs would take him. He moved through the crowd still lingering outside the bar – deftly dodging being knocked clean off his feet – and towards the corner of the street. Pendrood, having deemed it safe to keep moving, waited for an opening in the speeder traffic before crossing the cracked and unmaintained road. He was far enough away that Javyar considered it safe for him to make his own move, and started for the side of the street that both Pendrood and Brextallor were on.

            Pendrood offered a look back as he continued to make his way up the next block, Javyar melding into the shadows of a nearby doorway to get out of sight. Brex just kept walking in sight of the Freelysh, the latter completely oblivious to his presence. “You’re clear to keep moving.” Came the response, and Javyar continued to make his way up the street, eyes locked on Pendrood. The Freelysh made it to the end of the next block, rounding the corner and disappearing.

            “He’s probably going to round the block a few times,” Javyar muttered. “Just to see if he can detect any tail.”

            “What should I do?” Brex asked.

            Javyar thought for a second. If the Proximan also rounded the corner, then it was likely that Pendrood would figure out what was happening. At the same time, they couldn’t just assume he would reappear around the block, again. “Go to the corner and wait. Make it look like you’re trying to cross. I’ll come to the end and…” He was stopped from continuing, as the small Proximan reached the spot where Pendrood had turned. A booted foot materialized from a person unseen, knocking Brextallor to the ground. With a squeal, the Proximan doubled over and fell to the ground. Javyar cursed under his breath and started running over to him. They had been made.

            “You okay?” He asked, stopping over Brex’s fallen form. He looked down the next street, just in time to catch Pendrood’s tentacled head vanish down an alleyway.

            Brex clutched at his stomach, wincing. “I believe we have been made.” He grunted.

            Javyar sorted, reaching a single hand down and yanking the small Proximan back to his feet. “That your expert assessment? Let’s go!” Without waiting for a response, he took off after Pendrood.

            The alleyway that the Freelysh had started running down was narrow and bisected the block in two. By the time Javyar had reached it Pendrood’s form had vanished at the opposite end, making a left and heading in a northern direction.

            “I don’t remember you being quite this fast!” Javyar growled to nobody. Pushing himself faster he sprinted for the end of the alley, seeing that he gained some ground against Pendrood when he reached the street again. The Freelysh looked back, an expression of fear crossing his sallow face. “I wouldn’t run if I were you, Pendrood!” Javyar called after him. “I promise it will only get worse!”

            The Freelysh didn’t respond, instead reaching the end of the block. The traffic was coming at a steady pace here, and Pendrood had two options. One was to brave it and the other to continue along this same block. To Javyar’s amazement, the skittish being chose the former, and started zig-zagging through less-than-pleased speeder traffic, the sounds of horns and curses echoing after him. By some miracle Pendrood made it to the other side without so much as a scratch.

            “You crazy squid,” Javyar hissed, staring in disbelief as Pendrood just kept going, seeming to have ignored the fact that he almost got hit by the traffic. In all of his years of knowing the being, he had never seen Pendrood do that, even if his life depended on it. Figuring he could worry about that later, Javyar reached that same intersection and utilized the confusion to cross without as much trouble.

            “Wait…for…me!” Came Brex’s distant voice from behind. Javyar cast a look backwards but didn’t slow his pace. The small-legged being was much too far behind to be an effective chaser. Javyar made the snap decision that to wait for him would be a waste of precious minutes and continued in his own pursuit.

            Pendrood was still a sizeable distance up the next block, but his near-misses with the speeders had slowed him by several meters. “Come on, Pendrood!” Javyar coaxed. “I just have a few questions to ask; this doesn’t have to end up anything like last time!” The Freelysh offered a singular look back but no response as he took a sudden left and veered down another alleyway. Javyar came upon the entrance to this same alleyway, sprinting in but quickly coming to a halt when he caught sight of Pendrood.

            He hadn’t gotten nearly as lucky here as with the last alleyway, as their target was faced with a tall fence, the man currently struggling to climb up and over it. It was not for lack of trying, either, as the Freelysh clambered up a half meter or two before losing grip and falling unceremoniously back to the alley floor. Javyar flexed his fingers, rubbing a bit of dirt from one of his claws as he took his time with this one.

            “Well, well, that infamous Freelysh climbing affinity doesn’t seem to be helping you all that much, Pendrood.” Javyar approached his target, who was still attempting to climb that fence again and again, with all of the tenacity of prey who knew his only hope of survival was escape. “Why don’t you get down here so we can have a chat?”

            Pendrood was halfway up the fence again for his latest attempt, and Javyar reached his hand out, getting a handful of the being’s tentacles. He fastened his grip around them with surprising ease, throwing Pendrood to the ground.

            “You’re feeling a little dry.” Javyar commented with a frown, appraising how easy it had been to grab the being, as well as the lack of Freelysh slime currently coating his hand. “A bit dehydrated, are we?”

            Pendrood just stared up at him, covering his face with his hands. Very uncharacteristic for a Freelysh in terror. “P…please!” Begged an odd voice. It was Pendrood’s, but with a strange affect to it. “I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt me!” The more he spoke, the more he heard that off voice, the more Javyar realized that he had made a critical mistake.

            Brex appeared in the alleyway at that point, well out of breath. He stammered something, probably about being left behind, but Javyar wasn’t listening. Instead, he knelt beside the Freelysh, yanking the being’s arms away from his face. This being looked exactly like Pendrood alright, but those eyes – orange, though now up close clearly a different, artificial shade – were filled with a fresh fear. It wasn’t the type of fear one exhibited from a known terror – knowing exactly what situation one found themselves in and what was about to happen – but instead the fear of someone who had never met the Parfful currently standing over him and had no idea what was to come next.

            “Did you get him?” Brex asked, this time Javyar catching the comment.

            Javyar grumbled, standing over their mark. “No.” He pulled out a pistol, angling it right down at the Freelysh. A yelp – not a squeal more common of the species – escaped from between the fake Pendrood’s mouth flaps.

            “What are you doing?” Brex asked. “The Captain said…”

            “I’m only going to ask once,” Javyar said, ignoring the Proximan. “Who are you, and why do you look like the man I’m searching for?”

            The fake Pendrood raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay!” He stammered, gasping for breaths. “You…you’re right; you got me! I…I was just doing it for the money, p-please don’t hurt me!”

            “Then talk!”

            Before the fake Pendrood responded, the being’s face began to change. First the long tentacled beard began to retract back into his face before his sallow skin began to change in color. By the time the face’s shape became sharp and angular in addition to a light pink, Javyar knew the answer to the riddle. He looked at Brex, whose vacant features would show amazement if they could. “I should have guessed,” Javyar said. “A Quorthwenne.”