| As Long As There Is Hope pt 4 By Jemmiah *********** Obi-Wan awoke the following morning, prompted more by the rumblings of his stomach rather than the subtle reminders that his master would normally subject him to. He had overslept by a full two hours and as a result he was not only hungry but also extremely lazy. Never one to deny the fact that he enjoyed sleeping in when given the chance (which was non-existent since Qui-Gon had taken him as his padawan learner) the boy shuffled out of bed with his eyes still stuck together and his sleep shirt crumpled, wishing that he could just stay asleep all day. It would be a foolish thing to do though, he admitted ruefully as he stuffed his sock clad feet into the slippers by his bed, because he would only feel over-tired as a result…not that he thought he could feel worse than he did right now. He tried to use the force to see where his master was but he couldn't sense his presence at all. That couldn't be right… Blearily he reached the door, sill trying to persuade his stubborn upper and lower eyelids to release their grasp of one another. Through the small slits he managed to see the morning light flooding into the balcony. There seemed to be no sign of Qui-Gon. "Master?" Obi-Wan croaked. No answer. "Are you there, master?" he rubbed at his eyes. Still no answer. Obi-Wan sighed and decided to trust the force and save his voice in future. He felt his stomach urging him to find something edible to placate it's wrath and so he grudgingly made the effort of walking the few extra steps it took to get to the kitchen and the refrigeration unit. Citrus juice, he thought fondly. That will do for a start. Then maybe if there's any of that Nerf's cheese left I can make some toast and… Just as his hand fell upon the fridge door he noticed a flimsy note stuck to the surface. The writing was small and neat - too small for Obi-Wan's sleep crusted eyes to make out at first - and unmistakably that of his master. Snatching the flimsyplast away and holding it merely inches from his nose, the padawan squinted at the series of strokes and squiggles until they deigned to fall into a pattern that made sense. "Padawan," Obi-Wan managed to make out as he poured out a glass of citrus with the other hand; "I have gone out on official council business. I hope to return by the afternoon." Obi-Wan yawned. "At least that means I don't have that assignment to work on." "Please make sure you finish your assignment and see that your room is left in a tidy state. We will be leaving on our mission later this evening…. Qui-Gon Jinn." Obi-Wan looked at the glass of citrus in his hand, and then back to the flimsy letter. The word that continued to jump out him was 'assignment'. He had the utmost respect and devotion for his master but there were times like now when the man seemed to read him just too well for his liking. "Sith." Obi-Wan sighed. ************* Qui-Gon strode determinedly along the permacrete paving. If he were honest with himself this was a part of the city that he would rather not frequent unless he couldn't at all help it. Coruscant was built upon layers and layers of permacrete, which in turn were stacked upon what were now sub-layers of seedy and grimy, darkened stonework and dank buildings, some long forgotten. And below the sub-layers were the sewerage and fresh water systems. He remembered a good many years ago some unstable individual had decided to poison a fair amount of the West Side of Coruscant's population by trying to get the former diverted into the latter. It was rumored that there were even subterranean species living amongst the tunnels and pipes… Fortunately he had never had to go down to those levels before. On this occasion he was searching amongst the lower buildings around the streets themselves hoping to find the 'gentleman' that Mace had hinted he should search for. Qui-Gon strode amongst the other pedestrians, aware that he was hardly blending in. A jedi wandering round the streets usually meant there was some sort of investigation underway and the good citizens of Coruscant usually looked to themselves and wondered what it was they might have done wrong… Well, Qui-Gon didn't want to go unrecognized. If his jedi clothes marked him out it would mean that undesirable life forms might just take the hint and stay away. He finally located the Dawn 'til Dusk cantina, stepping inside the place with due caution and all senses alert to any possible danger. The smokey atmosphere hit him like a brick in the face. Through the haze he could see a giant towering Wookiee that made him look small in comparison serving behind the bar, but that wasn't uncommon in these types of places. Wookiees made very good bouncers. Getting a feel for the place, Qui-Gon decided it might be best if made his general inquiries at the bar. Several games of chance were going on in the murkiest corners of the room, money flowing faster from grubby hands of all species than wine at a Corellian's wedding. Substances of a rather dubious nature were bartered and traded, and Qui-Gon got the feeling that there were several blasters trained under not a few of the tables in the cantina. He was certain that his presence hadn't helped matters at all. "Glass of Gizer ale." He nodded at the barman. He'd sat for the next ten minutes trying to build up a feeling for the place, it's characters and any hidden quirks not at first apparent. Only when he realized his pale blue ale had all but vanished and the barman carefully asked if he'd like a refill had Qui-Gon felt able to proceeded. "Yes, thank you. A refill would be good." He slid a couple of credits across the bar in payment for the first drink. "And some information would be equally agreeable." The barman froze for a split second before picking up the empty glass. "When Jedi usually hang about on their own in bars that is generally what they are seeking." Replied the man in a low voice. "What is it you are wanting? Perhaps I can help you?" "A man by the name of Gray Elcron. I was told he sometimes frequents this establishment." Qui-Gon reached for his new drink. "Gray? Oh, yes. He certainly does. See that person slumped senseless against the wall back yonder?" the barman pointed at a rather lumpy, bulky looking figure in a rough, scruffy spacers outfit. "That's your man. Won't get much sense out of him today though. He got in early and he's been drinking hooch ever since. You'll be lucky if he even remembers who he is." Qui-Gon pondered that for a moment. It was vital that he get the information that he required, and by today. Simply, if this man weren't sober he'd have to get him so pretty quickly. "Thank you." The master replied, sliding a further amount of coins the barman's way. "Thank you, sir jedi." He grinned. As Qui-Gon walked over to the somewhat dazed looking figure whose body seemed to appear facing every possible direction at once the first thing that hit him was the smell. Even in a cantina full of the wonderful mixed aromas of alcohol, smoke, narcotics and vomit the stench of strong drink that permeated from this one man seemed to reach out and shake him by the throat. Greying, oddly layered hair that contrived to stick up like the comb on a Tooni fowl and rather discolored teeth marked this snoring gentleman out from all the others around him. Qui-Gon wondered why nobody had picked his pockets and then he realized that he mustn't have much in the way of possessions anyway. The jedi stood by his side for a moment before picking him up and shaking him very gently to see if there was any hope at all. He had to have that information. "Grrrrrrrroffff." The man groaned. "I'd appreciate a longer conversation than that, Elcron." Qui-Gon tapped him lightly on the face. "I've come to speak to you on a matter of some importance and I'd appreciate it if you would listen to me." "Whhhoooaaaarrrrreeeeyouuuuu?" the man managed to get out past a tongue that didn't seem to be working." "I am somebody who is interested in buying certain information from you." Qui-Gon whispered in Elcron's ear. It wouldn't do for the other patrons to get wind of the fact he had money on him. "It really would be in your best interest to sober up." One yellowed eye regarded him for a moment, although it appeared obvious to Qui-Gon that even if the message about money had sunk into his alcohol soaked brain his reaction time was extremely slow. This might prove to be a difficult conversation. "Who- HIC- whoaarreeyyouuuuu?" he mumbled, his stale breath causing Qui-Gon to flinch slightly. Qui-Gon decided this was getting him nowhere fast. He picked up his glass of blue ale and threw it at close range into Elcron's face. The man spluttered for a moment, blue liquid falling in rivulets down his cheek. He smacked his lips briefly, trying to work out what had happened to him. "Gizer blue ale." Elcron's wheezed. "What a waste of a drink." "You can have as much as you want provided you are able to supply me with the information I need." Qui-Gon repeated in a low voice. "I was reliably informed that you were the person to see regarding a little…excursion I have planned." The promise of the drink and the credits seemed to sober the man up very quickly, even if he did look rather the worse for wear. He gave a creaky little laugh through smoke filled lungs and turned his bloodshot eyes upon the jedi, trying to take his measure. "Excursion?" he wheezed. "Well, depends on the type of excursion you had in mind. Where would this excursion be?" "Nargotria." Qui-Gon stared him in the face, unblinking. "Nar…" the man began. "What would a jedi want with a place like that?" "Can you help?" Qui-Gon refused to be drawn into discussing his mission. Elcron coughed, reaching into his pocket. Qui-Gon saw the move and remained alert. "Want a cigara?" Elcron asked, grinning yellow teeth flashing at the master. "No thank you." "Pity, I always do business whilst smoking. Helps concentrate the mind. Now," the man sniffed, "I need to know a few things here. Who, why and how." "Pardon?" Qui-Gon feigned ignorance. "Who you are. Why you are going and how much you are going to pay." Qui-Gon sat up straight. "Question number one. None of your business. I will be travelling incognito, so to speak." He said levelly. "Not surprised." "Question number two. I am going because I was told by a friend," he thought briefly of Valorum, "that it would be worth my while." "Oh, yeah?" Elcron snickered. "Didn't think the jedi had friends like that." "Question number three. There is an account with 30000 credits sitting in it waiting for you if you decide to help. Withdraw it or keep it there safely, it's your choice. But I need that information." The cigara nearly fell from the man's mouth as he listened and Qui-Gon could see the uncertainty in the addled mind trying to look for flaws. "Republic credits?" he looked stunned. "Yes." "That would clear off my debts and still leave me with enough to ring up some new ones." The idea seemed utterly tantalizing, yet still he hung back. "What's the catch?" he narrowed his eyes at the jedi. "That amount of money means there's a catch." "You are both perceptive and correct," Qui-Gon bowed his head. "even when you are drunk. I need an identity that will get myself and another individual in my company safely through the Jantaurian system without being molested by pirates and other unwanted individuals. I need something that will enable me to 'explore' Nargotria safely without compromising my own welfare. Is that understood?" Elcron nodded, a sly smile spreading lopsidedly across his face. "Exploring, eh? I know the kind of exploring you are talking about." He winked at him, causing Qui-Gon to shudder inwardly. "No wonder you don't want the jedi to know about this little excursion of yours, eh?" He scratched at his stubble for a while with fingernails ingrained at the sides with dirt. "Two ID's then? Tricky. Not impossible though. Nargotria's a bit of an exclusive club in a way. The planet's not exactly high profile being where it is but there's a select group of people who know about the particular settlement to which I think you are alluding. Now, I can supply you with the co-ordinates and the grid references, plus the ID's you are looking for. Make it look authentic, see? The person in charge gets mighty suspicious if people aren't recommended to him via a reliable source so he won't think highly of you and your colleague turning up out of the blue unless there's somebody that can say you're legit." "And do you know such a person?" Qui-Gon enquired. "Oh, yes. A Mister Walbert Maxal. His ID came my way after he lost heavily in a game of chance. Lost all his money, all his assets…this little bonus was given to me because he couldn't pay off his debts. So to all intents and purposes I am he. Merdan doesn't know about it though, so I'd like to keep it that way." "Merdan?" "Man who runs the show on Nargotria. Got girls there of every class, type, form and age. You want it, he's got it." He leered. "Never been there myself though but Maxal said it was pretty special." "Doesn't the fact you have his ID bother him?" Qui-Gon frowned. "Not any more it doesn't." Elcron grinned nastily. Qui-Gon got the message. "I will send the usual standard recommendation to Mr. Merdan and forward your ID's to him. I'll get you clearance by Six standard this evening or thereabouts." "I'm leaving at nine standard." Qui-Gon warned. "You ARE keen." Elcron mumbled. "Okay. Meet me here at six and I'll have the ID's ready. What about your companion?" "What about him?" "I need a description. Age, height, coloring…" Qui-Gon sighed and closed his eyes. "His name you do not need to know. He is small, thinly built with blue eyes and red-brown hair." Elcron nodded, mentally ticking it all off in his head. "Age?" he asked again. Qui-Gon groaned inwardly. "Fourteen." He replied. This time Elcron's cigara DID fall from his mouth. "Kriff!" he muttered. "They certainly start young these days!" |