"The Hero of Karkoon. Part II"

Written & directed by:
Anthony Hummerston.

STARRING:

Karnov,   Jimmi,   Niall,   Rojic,    Ta'alan,  Mama
And special guest stars:
Hen3ry , Joe-9T, Trio and 'Blinkie.'
as the droids.
AND
Storm Cutter, their ship, all redecorated in Republic half-mottled ocean-grey version: 49901-9-F7G. (High viz)

“I’m off for a massage.” Jimmi informs the others, “On second thoughts, I’m gonna set up a massage parlour.” The others look at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Jimmi clarifies. “-For getting information out of people.”

“-And getting your hands on their bodies.” Karnov says.

“Well that is a bit of a perk, sure.”

“You know I’m feeling a little dry….” Karnov says, scratching, “It’s the arid atmosphere….” Jimmi gives her one of those looks. Karnov concludes, “Getting arid-er all the time!”

Kima Venn joins them. This is a cue for more raised eyebrows. “Where did you spring from?” Rojic demands.

“I was here all the time.” She tells him, “Only you never noticed.”

Rojic mutters something about interdiction drives and stealth shielding and wild weasels.

Kima beams at him. “I helped Tyra set up the jamming signal. It’s being boosted through my ship. –But with a blockade going on, Mama and I thought it best to lie low with you lot.”

“Oh. So what’s your plan now then?”

“I was thinking of going down to the comms suite….Sweetie.”

“You’ve been with Kory too long….Got the ‘sweetie’ bug.” Jimmi says.

“Actually, I think we could have a look at the jamming signal – see if it still holds….And maybe amplify it a bit.” Kima tells them.

Rojic’s mind is racing. “-And maybe fix the odds at the gambling tables as well….I could do with a better win to loss ratio.”

“We could all do with a better kills to death ratio,” Joe-9T says, “I’m off to get a closer look at the champion.”

“If you do, get him to come along to my massage place.” Jimmi urges, “May be he can be turned.”

“Are we talking about his relationship gender preferences or his political alliances?”

“Um….” Jimmi thinks, “-Both!”

“As we’re still unclear on Jimmi’s gender alignment, maybe we should start using alternative terms,” Rojic suggests, “Such as ‘Zee’ ‘Zim’ and ‘Zer.’”

Jimmi muses on this, “In fact, I reject the gender binary as an oppressive move by the dominant culture.” He/she/it says.

“Pfft! Whatever!” Ta’alan says, hoping that this passes for understanding. He wanders off.

“Anyway, if you do de-gender people, you might need to de-species them too.” Rojic suggests.

“We could come up with better terms for Toydarians.” Niall says, leaving a goal wide open.

Kima shoots and scores, “Yeah, instead of he, she and it, we use despicable, loathsome and contemptible.”

“Works for me!”

“Me too!”

Rojic flaps off. He doesn’t want to get into another argument. Kima Venn goes with him.

Karnov tries to remember something, “Despicable, loathsome and contemptible. –Aren’t they a firm of solicitors?”

Before long they find the communications hub – or rather the room where all the gadgets are. There is a rather heated discussion going on. –And a lot of Toydarian swearing.

“Gheterenegueolot shelo, ker leno, aney eykhol lekevel at zeh! - Zeh lea hesefer sheley - khemeh zeh gueḏole?”

“That’s easy for you to say!” A voice retorts, “You’ve been hanging around, having a party since the comms went down!” The guttural tone of the Toydarian changes into the more fluid explanation in Huttese.

“Meesa? Me no wanna wanga no partydoo….No jello-de-baloonsah -no. No passoo-do-parcelado forso me so farso do-ray-meso.”

This is met with a forceful expletive from the boss, who emerges from the door at a rapid pace. “Karking Toydarians!” – Which is a phrase unchanged in every language.

A Nuatolan pushes past Rojic and Kima Venn. Had he not had the face of an amphibian, he would have a face like thunder.

“And what are you doing?” He asks.

“Me and my assistant here….” Rojic bluffs, “Are…Fixing the transmitter.” Rojic lies, and turns to Kima Venn. “-And don’t just stand there like a lupin! Get moving.” He turns back to the Nautolan. “Human staff! –They’re the worst!”

He and Kima Venn slip inside the room. Rojic can play this situation two ways: Either blend into the background or act like he owns the place.

“Okay everyone back to what they were doing!” He barks at the technicians. They pay him no heed. “Okay….Back to slacking off while the system is down!” This gets the reaction that he was after. They go back to chattering about Huttball, scoffing cake, making paper planes and chucking them at one another. Rojic beams. –The power is making him dizzy. “-And let this fool of a girl start working –Clear some space now! Come on! She does tend to be a bit clumsy! Only the other day, she left a panel live….Fried three technicians….Very nasty.” The other Toydarians laugh, and ignore Kima Venn, but give them plenty of space. This is as it was intended. Kima shoots Rojic a look – one that says ‘laugh it up flyboy – ‘coz soon the boot will be on my foot!”

Kima sets to work, with Rojic directing. They know that the jamming signal is at the other end of the communications network. To ensure that it stays broken, they break it at this end as well. High on a roof above them, the satellite dish starts to droop, missing any signal should the link be re-established. Kima starts hacking into the system, tying it in knots and almost completely crippling it. She also finds a handy back-door to all the computer controlled services in the palace.

Kima Venn turns to Rojic, who is busying himself with altering the odds at the roulette and Sabacc tables. “So when Challabba comes back here for the winter….Or is it the summer…..? Shall I have the hot tap run suddenly cold or the cold tap suddenly run hot?”

Rojic thinks. “Cold tap occasionally run scorching,” He says, “But not every time. Keep the old slug guessing.”

“Anything else?

“Make the lifts go up instead of down – make the fire alarm sound in the middle of the night. Have the coffee machines dispense decaffeinated in the mornings, and caffeinated in the evenings. Have the guns fire at friendly ships, but not at enemy vessels. Introduce a random element into all computer passwords, lock out the administrator, but give the standard users full access rights. Order ten million litres of blue bantha milk, but no steaks. Have Challabba’s personal holo connect to the supreme chancellor’s office fourteen times a day.”

“Okay, shouldn’t take too long.” Kima taps a few keys.

“Okay anything else?”

“Buy him a ticket to Jimmi’s next singing recital and cancel his subscription to Reader’s Digest. That’ll fix him.”

“Okay, done?”

Rojic scratches at his chin. “One more thing. The next cargo consignment goes straight from the unloading bay around the spiral widdershins and then straight into Storm Cutter’s hold.”

“Done.”

Rojic grins. “Done? Yes he has been!”

Kima thinks about this, “You know that it’s stealing, yes?”

“Redistributing cargo.” Rojic corrects her. “It’s a tax dodge, but not a tax avoidance scheme. – Nothing more and perfectly legal.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Rojic, and one day you might believe it!”

Jimmi ‘sees’ a familiar figure go past Room 101 – the new name for the massage parlour.

“Klara, isn’t it?” The woman spins on her heel, a hand hovers near an assortment of an arsenal of weapons. “What?”

“It’s only that we met a short while ago, and I was wondering….If you’d like a massage?”

“No.”

“I’m very good….”

“I’m sure you are.”

Jimmi piles on the pressure. “After all, you’d be helping me to get established….-Aiding the poor and infirm….Namely me.” Jimmi taps with the white stick and this is the convincer.

“Okay….But no funny business.”

“Trust me madam, you are in the hands of a professional. Literally and whatever the opposite is.”

“Amateur?” She guesses.

“No. The opposite of literally.” Jimmi says, helping her onto the couch.

“Metaphorically?” Klara guesses again.

Jimmi thinks. “I thought that metaphorically was some kind of demon prince.”

“That’s Mephistopheles.” She corrects.

“Of course. Now I remember. All hot blooded and red-skinned and prone to violence.” Jimmi prattles on, while warming the oil.

“I have red skin.” She says in a slightly hurt tone.

Jimmi is about to react with, “I knew that!” When it is plain that Jimmi didn’t know that – what with being blind and all – besides, to admit that would blow the cover of the ‘blind’ proprietor.

“That’s the one. Now relax….” She relaxes, just a fraction. Jimmi tries to ease things somewhat.

“Now take off all your clothes and lie on the bed.” Jimmi says. Something in the tone suggests that Jimmi is genuine. Slowly the woman peels off layers of armour and clothes and undergarments and about sixty different weapons, including a knife and another knife.

Jimmi has to ask. “Where were you going with all these deadly weapons?”

She pauses to think, “The old-age pensioner’s book and crochet club?”

Jimmi giggles. “Good answer!”

The massage takes some time. Jimmi chats some idle chat. The woman asks if Jimmi speaks Mando’a.

“I understand most languages. –But I can do a wicked Chinese burn.”

“Not much point for a person with red skin.”

“True. I’d forgotten that part. – How about investing in some sun-block? –Maybe factor fifteen…..Hundred?”

The woman laughs. Jimmi has certainly got on her good side. Sensing this, Jimmi goes for the jugular. – Metaphorically that is.

“So you’re here….To fight Zabki?”

“To beat him….One day.”

“You fought and lost?” Jimmi asks.

About a week ago, yes. I still have the bruises.”

Jimmi asks what happened. Klara fills in the details. “I had seen a couple of fights. –They happen once or twice a day. I saw him smack down a lowly cage fighter. The fight was so short, Zabki challenged again immediately. I took up a place at the edge of the arena. I gave him both barrels of my best blasters. Then rocket pods, sticky-bomb, a taser-shot – the works. -When this didn’t bring him down, I rushed in –stupidly- and tried to gut him with the knives, while pouring flammable oil over him. He went up like a Ford Pinto, but he suffered so little damage that a second after, I started to doubt my own sanity. It got to kicking and clawing and biting – But in the end he wore me down, giving me a severe beating for my trouble.”

While the woman has her head under a towel, Jimmi looks up Klara’s reputation, patching in from the holo-net aboard Storm Cutter. This woman has a fearsome reputation – The death mark in six point nine systems – A known killer, with several high profile bounties to her name. Jimmi tries not to gulp. Jimmi is also glad to have ‘eyes’ in the back of the head lest she come up behind and stick a shiv in a part of the anatomy that can be slightly fatal. – Just like they do in the movies. – The ones that Jimmi hasn’t ‘seen.’

“So this Zabki can’t be beaten?”

“I didn’t say couldn’t. I said I tried everything, and he bested me.”

“What happens to the losers?”

“Well the free contenders are patched up and released. The slaves….Or the victims of kidnappings….I’m afraid they don’t fare so well.”

There being nothing left to massage, Jimmi bids Klara farewell.

“Be seeing you.” She says to Jimmi, hoping to root out an impostor. But Jimmi has ‘seen’ The Great Escape too many times to be caught out. Klara dresses in her dress and puts her hands on her arsenal. –Yes you read that right, - and it’s still funny second time around!

Joe-9T has decided to get up close and personal with Zabki. He trundles around the promenade, where all sorts of traders are trying to flog each other stuff. He imagines that a cargo ship or two turn up here fairly regularly to keep the palace supplied, but doesn’t speculate a moment longer as Zabki has stopped by a gunsmiths. A sour-faced Trandoshan sits and cleans guns, while a young Twi’lek man hawks for business.

“Lovely guns. Guns for Hunting. Guns for impressing bystanders, guns for hold-out, guns for sport, guns for protection….Guns for shooting!”

Zabki looks over the guns. Joe-9T looks over Zabki. With a critical eye he can see that the man is indeed around thirty years old, and has the markings of a Rattataki over which the facial tattoos of a Zabrak have been applied. He has wispy hair, like that of a Zabrak, and vestig….vetidigi…..vestaditidgy….. ‘Small’ horns on the top of his head. He sports a Rattataki head-plate in his upper forehead, a piercing in his ear and has a rather grey-brown tinge to his skin. Joe-9T does a scan. Life-signs are normal. He detects a heartbeat. He scans for some nano-thingies but doesn’t detect any.

In the end Zabki tires of window shopping, -there being no windows for sale at this stall. Joe-9T homes in on a pistol that Zabki has just put down.

“How much for this one?”

“A hundred.” The Twi’lek says.

“What do you say to me not blowing you away with Sarah-Jane here?”

“Fifty.”

“What if I told you to wear a tinge of rogue makeup – in order to become a tier three Twi’lek.” Joe asks.

“For that advice, forty.”

Joe-9T snaps out a sharp “Done!” Before anyone can haggle him back up.

“Would you like me to wrap it?” The teenager offers.

“Oh no. I want to wear it right now.”

As soon as Joe-9T can get away he heads straight for Storm Cutter. He takes swabs from the gun and places them in a machine that analyses DNA. He has a few minutes shut-down while he waits for the results.

Niall and Karnov have had enough research gathering. Niall replays the holo of Zabki’s previous fights. One in particular interests him. “Look here.” He says, showing it to his companion.

“What is it? A revolutionary way to clean toilets? Put a duck in the bowl?” Karnov says, rather unkindly. There is a brief twenty-five minute stand-up argument while the two of them trade insults about being the dumbest in the class (Karnov) and being in the service corps (Niall)

In the end Niall tells Karnov that a Jedi padawan fought Zabki a while ago, was badly beaten and left for dead. “He might still be alive….And still here too.” This starts another heated debate.

The only thing that they can agree on is that this has let them move toward the detention level. They wave at the two Gamorrean guards that Rojic and Karnov locked up earlier. They shake their fists back and make rude gestures at our heroes. This done, Karnov and Niall proceed to a cell that isn’t a cell as such, but a door to a deeper level. Here in the sub-dungeon are the real scummy and villainous types. The catcalls and whistles and suggestions are all catty, shrill and suggestive. At the end of their search they find a figure in tattered robes.

The figure is a thin Mirialan. He is about Ta’alan’s age and build. However, he has suffered some cruelty during his incarceration. They ease some of his immediate discomfort by removing a large lump of chalk from under his thin mattress. Karnov heals herself to make the youngster feel better. Niall chalks off the missing days on the cell wall before writing something really rude about the service in this hotel.

“You’re coming with us.” He tells the young man.

“I can’t, I won’t, I don’t, I still….No words….Just think.”

Niall is concerned that the man isn’t making much sense. He turns to Karnov. “What do you think? Drugs?”

“Oh yes please. Have you got the red pill followed by a blue one?”

“Not you! -Stupid! Him!”

“Oh! I see….Yes almost certainly. Probably injected daily –or his food is spiked.”

Niall lifts the young man. It isn’t a difficult task. They proceed out of the detention level, all the while taunting the remaining prisoners. This would start a riot had they not been so secure in their cells. The din as the Jedi leave is almost deafening.

Back at Storm Cutter, they put the youngster in the Bacta tank. Joe-9T’s sample is finished, which is punctuated by a loud ‘Ding!’

He analyses it, while the padawan bobs up and down forlornly like a half-cold lava lamp. They have at least got a name out of him. –Tig Ferrah.

Joe-9T reports, “Zabki’s DNA checks out. Half and half from the parent species. Definitely organic – no nano-thingies.”

“What about Midichlorians?”

“Thanks, but I just put one out.”

“Not you, Karnov. –Zabki!”

Karnov checks, “On the scale. Within normal parameters….For a non-force user.”

“Hmmmm……” Niall says.

Karnov taps at the universal repository of knowledge. Joe-9T asks him to stop drumming on his head and use Wookieepedia instead.

“Here’s interesting,” Karnov says after some time. “Kip. A mining planet on the borders of Huttspace. Standard minerals and some gasses. Lots of mud. Native species are also called Kip. -A few large mining families own most of the concerns. Loosely allied with the Republic.... Zane Drope….”

“What’s that? A mineral?”

“No. A mine owner’s son….Went missing about three months ago. – Possibly absconded.” Karnov shows Niall the display. “Half Rattataki – half Zabrak – Grey-ish complexion, tattoos like his father’s – whose name is unknown –otherwise a regular Rattataki family – he’s the youngest of the siblings….”

“Sounds like our man. A regular black-sheep.”

“Grey-ish sheep.” Karnov corrects him.

“Grey-ish sheep then. -Anything on the hijack?” Niall asks.

“Passenger transport….Nothing that special….”

“How about the other passengers?”

“Such as?”

“Three Rattataki girls?”

“Mentioned. But not by name…..Though it looks as though they were nabbed together.” Karnov reads from the display.

“They’re not his sisters are they?” Niall muses.

“Half-sisters….No I don’t believe so.”

“So they might have met before or on the transport. Is it some random chance- or was it planned?”

Karnov doesn’t know the answer to this one.

“Anything else?”

“Self-styled as the ‘Hero of Karkoon’ He claims to have spent a thousand years in a Sarlacc pit.”

“How old did you say he was?”

Karnov checks. “Nine in Kip years….Which is under thirty in standard years.”

“So we think it’s probably a story to help his reputation?” Niall suggests.

“I suppose so.”

“Besides, Niall says, insightfully, “Karkoon -as in the pit on Tatooine….Is spelled with a ‘C.’”

“Cit of Karkoon?” Karnov asks.

Niall can’t believe Karnov’s ignorance. –Until that is, Karnov puts the Bacta tank on ‘spin cycle.’

As they watch Tig Ferrah revolve at 800RPM, Niall says idly, “-But in the Latin alphabet, ‘Jehovah’ begins with an ‘I’. ”

There being nothing else to do, they think about starting a new argument.

“I think we should pay young miss, miss and miss a visit…..” Niall says, avoiding another half-hour’s arguing with a fool. Karnov agrees. –To avoid doing the same.

Karnov thinks. It takes some time, “Zane Drope…..Y’know, that’s not too far removed from Dwayne Dibbley!”

Rojic and Kima have finished sabotaging the comms array under the guise of fixing it. “That’s enough jamming for today.” Rojic whispers.

“What about jam tomorrow?”

“There’s always jam tomorrow!” Rojic promises.

“-And free beer?”

“Don’t push your luck!”

They decide to get out before the Nautolan boss comes back and realises that they are nothing to do with a technical crew. They meet the others on the promenade.

“Anything to report?” Niall asks.

“Jamming is holding. We introduced a few extra gremlins in the system as well.”

“Good.”

Rojic asks, “How about you?”

Niall is about to reply, when a hush falls over the walkway. Traders look at their feet or busy themselves with their stock. If the promenade was a residential area, one could imagine mothers hastily pulling their children inside doorways, lest the bogeyman get them.

Around the curve come half a dozen people. The leader is a thin Duros. He is followed by what look like medical orderlies. The hush follows him like a procession. Once he has passed, there is a palpable sigh of relief.

“Who was that?”

“I’m guessing that he’s the doctor- the one that kept the Padawan drugged up and operated on the clone trooper.” Niall says grimly. “We might have to have a stern word with him before too long.”

“Aggressive negotiations?” Karnov asks.

“Something like that. –He’s unusual, I have to say. –Duros are normally quite warm, friendly and unassuming.”

“Keep an eye on him.” Jimmi suggests to Joe-9T. “We’ve got a hot date with three sisters!”

Karnov, Kima and Jimmi go to the penthouse. They make sure that Zabki is still out by posting Rojic and Joe-9T to keep watch. He seems quite happy to swagger around the promenade- possibly safe in the knowledge that he is invincible. Niall starts speculating that he might be some great Jedi or Sith lord.

“What about reincarnation?” He asks Rojic, idly.

“I dunno. I always have custard on my peaches.”

“Thanks Rojic, you’re no help whatsoever.”

“Who do you think he might have come back as?”

“I’m at a loss. Jedi can live on through the force….But not usually as solid living beings….Unless he can transfer bodies….But that wouldn’t explain the resistance to damage.”

“Dark side thingys?” Rojic suggests rather half-heartedly.

“Karnov said that there was the Sith emperor. –But he disappeared under mysterious circumstances thousands of years ago.”

“-And turned up here….Making credits by cage-fighting.”

“No cages….But you have a point.”

Rojic thinks. “Maybe he has a portrait on a datapad somewhere that’s taking all the damage….Only to have it transfer back to him if the datapad is destroyed.”

“That’s the work of science fiction!” Niall says, just as a green methane-breathing six-headed alien passes by on a hover-chair. The irony is lost, however.

“We’re looking for Zabki.” Jimmi says in the politest of tones once the door has been answered.

The eldest of the girls is inside. “He’s not here. Goodbye.” She goes to close the door. Jimmi jams a cane in it to stop it closing. Karnov and Kima jostle one another to put their feet in the door too.

Jimmi has but milliseconds to turn the situation around. “Good! Because we came to talk to you!”

“What do you want?” The girl asks from behind the door.

Karnov says, “We want to know about Zabki. Get the lowdown….Find out where you fit in….” Kima shoots her a look. Karnov hasn’t realised how this might sound. She adds, “Please….”

After a pause, the door opens. “Okay. A few minutes. That is all.”

“We’ll be brief.” Jimmi promises. “So where did you meet?”

“About six months ago.”

“So you….You three are….?”

“His fanclub. Number one fans. And number two and number three.”

“Do you go to all his fights?” Karnov asks, “Miss....”

“Djinmargo. -And these are my sisters, Barayah and Maynii. -We don’t go to them all. -Maynii is a bit young for all the violence.”

Jimmi asks, “How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Sixteen. Maynii is tweve and our sister is in-between.”

Karnov does a quick calculation, “So she's about fifity-eight then?”

Niall whispers, “Only if you did higher maths at the academy of stupid!”

“So it’s a business relationship?” Kima asks.

“Or is it biological?” Jimmi wants to know, trying not to sound crude.

“Business. He makes money, we live in luxury….Albeit in a gilded cage….But some luxuries are relative. -So in a way it is symbiotic.”

Karnov is still taking this in. Eventually she says, “So you bring a fanclub, and he provides the money -and it it mutually beneficial?”

“Yes,” The girl confirms, “That’s what symbiotic means.” She so very nearly adds, “-Stupid!”

“I know what it means!”

Djinmargo

Jimmi tries to use the force to determine the truth. As far as Djinmargo is telling it, it is not far off the truth. There is no force connection that Jimmi can ‘see’ between her and Zabki either.

This seems to conclude their business here. They don’t want to upset the girls, nor invite Zabki’s wrath. They say a polite goodbye and join the others.

Joe-9T and Rojic are counting their winnings. Rojic is pleased. “Amazing what one can do with a casino, a smattering of inside knowledge, a little technical know-how and a honking-great assassin droid.” Kima clears her throat and reminds Rojic who gamed the tables. She nearly has to remind him of the widows and orphans fund. Joe-9T offers to expand the fund’s remit....By making a lot more widows and orphans.

“So you’re finally gonna have to face Zabki to find the facts?” Karnov says to Niall.

“Not necessarily. There’s more than one way to skin a Cathar.” Niall says, but at the moment he can’t think of any other way than getting his eyes scratched out and using a big knife.

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Footnotes: Alternative title: A lot of faffing....Trying to avoid the obvious.!