"I don't either," Thrawn agreed. "But it's the only sizable cover available for nearly ten million kilometers around Myrkr. There's really no other place for Karrde to watch our operation from." —Dark Force Rising
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They called it the Graveyard, when people bothered calling it anything at all. A fifteen kilometer stretch of junk and space wreckage, strung out along an isolated quadrant of the Outer Rim and far from the usual hyperspace routes any respectable person would travel. Scholars debated whether it was the remains of a great battle fought before the founding of the Old Republic, or just the forgotten junkyard of some unknown civilization; but the smugglers who knew about it cared only that it was safe from the prying eyes of local authorities. Or at least, most of the time.
Karrde gazed out the Wild Karrde’s viewport, staring silently at the swirling debris floating beyond. It was Mara, of all people, who had first introduced him to the Graveyard, on a smuggling run five months ago…and it had become a standard rendezvous spot ever since. For himself, Karrde found something strangely soothing and even beautiful in the site. For the rest of the crew, the Graveyard just gave them the willies.
“I still don’t get what we’re doing here,” Aves mumbled from where he was sitting beside Karrde in the pilot’s seat.
With a sigh Karrde turned away from the viewport. “I should think it would be obvious,” he said with his usual sardonic smile. “If even half the reports coming out of Coruscant are to be believed, the Republic’s about to have a very big and very messy war on its hands. The demand for bacta’s only going to increase in the next few months, and the price along with it.”
“No, I get that,” Aves said irritably, waving a hand at the view. “I mean what we’re doing here. This place always gives me the creeps.”
“Ah.” Karrde took another look out the viewport. “The Graveyard may have it’s unsettling qualities, I’ll admit, but it also presents a certain charm. And it can’t be beat for privacy.”
“Neither can Rishi or Trogan or half-a-dozen other places,” Aves retorted. “And this place doesn’t offer much room to maneuver in the event of a firefight.”
“Are we expecting one?”
Aves snorted. “You tell me. Torve said last time he checked there’s a reward of fifty-thousand credits going for anyone with information of our whereabouts. You ever know a Rodian to pass on a bounty that size?”
“I’ve known Ando to,” Karrde said. “He’s a businessman, not a bounty hunter. Ando knows he can make three times as much selling us bacta as he can selling us out to the Empire.”
“I don’t know, Karrde,” Aves said, trying one last time. “Mara wouldn’t like it.”
Mara. For a moment Karrde’s mind drifted to Coruscant, where Mara was currently convalescing. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said, bringing his thoughts back to the present. “But Mara isn’t here. And the matter’s not up for debate.”
“Okay, sure,” Aves said. “I hope you’re right, anyway,” he added, even as a light started flashing on his display. “Ando’s just arrived.”
Karrde looked up, and outside there was a flicker of pseudomotion as another ship exited hyperspace. “Corellian Gunship, looks like,” Aves noted as the cone-headed ship altered its course and started heading into the Graveyard. “I didn’t know Ando could afford one of those.”
“I didn’t either,” Karrde said, running a quick scan of the approaching ship. “Looks like he’s been toying with it, too. I’m picking up at least twelve modified weapons signatures.”
“Heavily modified?”
“Relax, Aves. If it comes to it, the Wild Karrde can hold its own in a fight.” He pointed out the viewport. “Look, they’re signaling us.”
Outside they could see the Gunship’s front running lights flicker. Aves reached a hand down underneath the main console and flashed the Wild Karrde’s own lights in response; and slowly the other ship started swinging toward them. “I suppose we should say hello to our guest,” Karrde said, switching on the comm. “This is the Wild Karrde. Is that you, Ando?”
“Greetings, Wild Karrde,” the jittery Rodian’s voice came back. “I must say, you sure know how to pick a rendezvous spot.”
Beside Karrde Aves cleared his throat. “Yes, my crew has expressed the same reservation,” Karrde said, giving Aves a look. “If you don’t mind my asking, is that a new ship you‘re flying? I don’t recall you owning a Gunship.”
“Yes, I just bought it off a Gotal a few months back,” Ando said, and even in the guttural Rodian language Karrde could still hear the pride in his voice. “Got it at a good price, too; the poor fellow was deep in debt—to the Hutts, of all people—and couldn‘t wait to sell it.”
“Must have been expensive,” Karrde observed.
“I got it at a good price,” Ando repeated—but he sounded defensive to Karrde‘s ear. “Speaking of which, do you have the money?”
That was Ando, all right: always down to business. “We have the money,” Karrde confirmed. “Do you have the bacta?”
“Three-hundred containers, as we agreed. Incidentally, this stuff wasn’t easy to get my hands on. The Empire’s put a moratorium on bacta sales ever since Thrawn went public with his clones.”
“Has it, now?” Karrde said, sending Aves a smug smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fully compensated for your trouble. There may even be a bonus in it for you, if you can promise to get your hands on more of it.”
“How much of a bonus?”
Karrde paused. Something in Ando‘s voice just then… “What do you mean?” he asked carefully.
“I’m a businessman, Karrde,” Ando explained. Meanwhile, those weapons signatures on Karrde’s screen started growing a little hotter. “I do business. But I hear things, you understand? Word has it that the Empire’s offering fifty-thousand for your head. I figure any bonus you can offer should at least double that.”
“Ando,” Karrde said, putting an edge of menace behind his tone, “I hope you’re not trying to strong-arm me.”
“I’m simply stating the facts,” Ando said, “as a businessman. I can make fifty-thousand turning you in. How much are you offering me not to?”
“Uh, Karrde—” Aves started.
“I see it,” Karrde murmured. There was no doubt about it; Ando was definitely firing up his weapons systems. “Ando,” he said into the comm, “listen to me very carefully. You don’t want to threaten me, and you certainly don’t want to tangle with the Wild Karrde.”
“I thought you might say that,” Ando sighed. He called out something in Rodian…and suddenly swerving around the floating hunk of a nearby chunk of wreckage came two nasty Z-95 headhunters, their weapons primed. They were followed by a pair of old assault shuttles, looking scarred and beaten-up but none the worse for all that; while behind them came a battlecruiser of a make Karrde didn‘t recognize.
Aves yet out a startled yelp. “Where in blazes did they come from?”
“They’ve been lurking in the Graveyard for the past hour,” Ando said, and there was no mistaking the sudden smugness that had appeared in his voice. “Waiting for you, Karrde. You didn’t really think I’d let you show up at a rendezvous first, did you?”
“No, I suppose not,” Karrde sighed, looking out the viewport at the jumble of ships bearing down on them. The Wild Karrde was of course heavily modified, packing way more shielding and firepower than its manufacturers had intended or the authorities usually allowed. But it wasn’t a warship, and couldn’t take on half-a-dozen ships all by itself. “I assume this is the part where we offer our unconditional surrender?”
“Unless you prefer a firefight,” Ando said as the Gunship started closing in. “You will now shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded.”
“Interesting. Before I hand over my ship to you, Ando,” Karrde said, reaching a hand down beneath the console display, “I have just one question: your friends out there, did they get here before or after my people did?”
He flashed the Wild Karrde’s running lights; and this time it was not four or five, but almost a dozen ships of different shapes and sizes that came bursting from behind the debris. And now it was Ando’s turn to yelp. “What in the Empire—!”
“Say hello to the rest of my organization,” Karrde said, sitting back as the other ships converged on Ando and the Gunship. “You didn’t really think I’d let you show up at a rendezvous first, did you, Ando?”
“Look, Karrde—”
“I’m sorry we won’t be doing more business in the future,” Karrde interrupted. “Give my regards to the Empire next time you see it. Goodbye, Ando.”
He cut off Ando’s protests with a flick of the comm. Outside Karrde could already see some of his ships closing in on the nearest of Ando’s forces, hovering like a pack of hungry gundarks. They were all there, all right: Karrde could easily make out the clunky shapes of the Etherway, the Starry Ice, and the Dawn Beat among others, as well as the more streamlined silhouettes of a couple Skipray blastboats. Even as he watched the sky was suddenly lit up with the flashes of laser fire.
He noticed Aves looking at him sideways. “You’re feeling pretty sure of yourself right now, aren’t you?” the other muttered.
“Maybe a little,” Karrde allowed. He waved a hand at the viewport. “Are you still going to tell me Mara wouldn’t like this?”
Aves didn’t answer; and really, what could he say? “Looks like the Etherway is signaling us,” he said instead, pointing at the light flashing on Karrde’s board.
Karrde leaned forward and switched the comm back on. “What is it, Torve?”
“And a friendly hello to you, too,” Torve said dryly. “It looks like we’ve got things pretty much handled here. What do you want us to do with Ando when we’re finished?”
“Don’t destroy his ship,” Karrde advised. “Take Chin and a twelve-man crew and board the Gunship; Ando’s still got a shipment of bacta he owes us. As for Ando himself…don’t harm him, either, I suppose. Once you’re safely away, send in a mayday to the Imperial base at Tangrene. I’m sure they’d like to help out one of their citizens in need.”
“And maybe punish any violations of the Imperial moratorium on bacta sales?” Torve suggested.
Karrde shrugged. “That’s really up to them. Aves and I will meet you at Xyquine when you’re done.”
“Got it. Torve out.”
There was a click as he turned off the comm, and then the Etherway burst off to rejoin the Starry Ice and the Amanda Fallow where they were already hammering the pair of assault shuttles. “So it’s to Xyquine, is it?” Aves asked.
Outside there was a new flash of sizzling blue as the Skiprays swooped in and started firing on Ando’s shiny Gunship with their ion cannon. With an effort Karrde turned away. “Xyquine it is,” he said, beginning to plot their course into the navicomputer. “I’ve already got a buyer lined up who’s quite eager to get his hands on some premium black-market bacta. And he’s willing to pay significantly more than fifty-thousand credits for it.”
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