Star Wars - Love is a Warm Blaster - Unpublished (3 page)

The smooth door had no apparent control panel, not even a handhold for that matter. Daniera ran a gloved hand over the surface but could not detect a hidden catch, lever, or other mechanism.

An idea suddenly struck her and she reached into a pouch. After a few moments of fishing around, she realized what she was looking for had vanished.

Daniera cursed under her breath and nearly jumped out of her skin when a soft voice emerged from the shadows and asked, “Looking for this?”

The barrel of Daniera’s hold-out blaster was suddenly pressing against the underside of the man’s chin. “Step into the light,” she commanded. “Now.”

Grinning, Love did as he was ordered. “Oooh. There’s nothing like a woman with command presence.”

Daniera tucked the weapon away, eyes flashing with a fiery mixture of anger and relief. “What are you doing here?”

“Evaluating talent,” Love said. “You passed.” He handed her the Darth Vader statuette.

“So, the great M’Kyas Love is also an accomplished pickpocket.”

“There are many, many talents I excel at.”

“Such as skulking about in the shadows?”

Love flashed his best grin. “I graduated top of my lurking class.”

She nearly smiled, but merely turned back to the door. A quick twist activated the miniature lightsaber. The minute crimson blade cast its eerie glow on the door and… nothing happened.

With a grunt of disgust Daniera prepared to hurl the mini-Vader into hyperspace, but Love placed a restraining hand on her arm. “Wait,” he whispered. “Look.”

Daniera turned back to face the door and watched in amazement as one of the larger stars in the starfield suddenly began to glow a corresponding red.

With a hesitant finger, she reached out and pushed the lit panel. The door rumbled and then slowly began to ascend into the celling.

“Good to go,” Daniera said. A dim corridor stretched ahead into darkness.

“Watch yourself,” Love warned. “And I know it’s tough, but let me do all the talking. Women are about a step above slaves in this hole and it can get a little rough.”

Daniera paused, her eyes narrowing to slits. “So you’ve been here before, huh?”

“Yeah, but not for pleasure. One of my acquaintances owns the place.”

She put her hands on her hips and glowered. “Then you knew how to get inside all along?”

Love merely grinned at her and then stepped into the Vortex.

Daniera was still blustering as they entered a circular greeting chamber. A large black podium was the only furniture in the shadowy room, though a dozen velvety curtains led to places unknown.

A greasy-looking Twi’lek clad in an expensive black cloak stood behind the podium, eyeing Daniera with a voracious stare.

Daniera leaned over to whisper, “Is it me or does this species seem to just chum out slimy servitors?”

Love grinned and added in a loud voice, “Every good little Twi’lek dreams of growing up to be a majordomo for some galactic sleaze-merchant. Isn’t that right, Vab?”

“Love. I can’t tell you how happy I am too see you,” Vab D’BuuIa snarled, “Because I’m not.” The Twi’lek returned his hungry gaze to Daniera, baring yellowed incisors and a pustulated tongue. “However it was extremely kind of you to bring me dessert.”

Daniera recoiled from the hideous attendant, but Love walked right up to lean his elbows on the podium. “The only thing you’re going to be feasting on is your own head-tails unless you tell me which curtain that space slug Mah-Luu is cowering behind.”

Unimpressed, Vab reared to his full height. “Do you have an appointment to see the master?”

“Sure.” Love reached into his coat. “Here you go.”

Vab found himself staring down the very large barrel of Love’s very, very heavy blaster pistol. Love put a tiny bit of pressure on the trigger, causing the overpowered weapon to emit an intimidating whine as it charged to fire.

Vab only had to consider the offer for a microsecond. “Curtain number three. Third door to your right.”

Love grinned and as he passed Vab gave the Twi’lek a friendly pat on the shoulder, causing the attendant to noticeably cringe.

Daniera caught up to Love as he drew aside the third curtain. “That was pretty good. Remind me not to play you at sabacc, I’d never know when you were bluffing.”

“I wasn’t.” He nodded back at Vab. “Last time he spent three weeks in a bacta tank.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“You do what you must to get the job done,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder, which she immediately shrugged off.

“Listen, girl. Things are going to get intense in there.” He nodded to the door down the hall. “Luu-Mah ‘Thermal’ Mah-Luu likes to keep his guests off-balance.”

After checking the blaster pack, Love finally slipped the gun back into its holster. “Don’t want to appear rude, though…”

As they continued down the hall, Daniera asked, “What in the name of Byss is that cannon you carry, anyway?”

“Well, in addition to having an amazing olfactory and auditory abilities, we Latarzians are also highly adept weaponsmiths. Our soul weapons are more than merely guns, they are statements of who we are.” He glanced back at her, a bit embarrassed. “But I won’t bore you with our silly little customs.” He paused for a long moment, then handed her the gun like a cadet offering his weapon for inspection. “Base Calban Model X Heavy Blaster Pistol, with added side blaster sight, galven pattern upgrade, energy converter valve adjustment, and half a dozen other little tweaks that few people know about.”

Daniera turned the bulky weapon over in her hands, nodding in appreciation. “It’s amazing.”

Love beamed like a proud father. “I’m thinking of adding a droid brain and vocabulator.”

She handed it back. “A talking gun?”

“Yeah,” he said as he holstered the blaster. “Neat, huh?”

Daniera could only shake her head. “Oh well. You know what they say… big gun, little—”

“Problem hitting the target,” Love interjected as they arrived at the correct door. He reached for the control panel, but she abruptly stopped him.

“Hold on a sec,” Daniera narrowed her eyes to slits. “Why do they call him Thermal?”

“Oh. You’ll see.”

Daniera should have been very comfortable. She was seated in a plush replihlde chair, the air filter controls were at the perfect setting, and she was sipping from a warm mug of juice (well, holding it on the saucer in her lap because the last time she took a drink, her hand was shaking too badly to successfully dock with her lips).

She glanced sideways at Love, who was seated beside her, but his attention was focused on the obese Ubese behind the unique desk. It was apparently constructed purely of fused bone matter. Daniera counted over two dozen different species represented. And as if that wasn’t quite disturbing enough, she now knew how Mah-Luu had earned his nickname.

The Ubese businessman was holding a silver sphere in his hands, universally recognized as a thermal detonator. Mah-Luu was playing with it, like a being with a nervous habit. Only this habit was making Daniera nervous.

Mah-Luu would slide the firing trigger into position, arming the device’s built-in six-second delay. Then a few seconds later, he would thumb the trigger back into its original position, deactivating the device. Unfortunately, at times, Mah-Luu would get lost in thought or caught up in the conversation and his finger would stay slid into the armed position.

Time would tick down quickly and Daniera would hold her breath and prepare to get acquainted with her long-gone ancestors, but then the deactivation would come within what she was sure was the last fraction of a microsecond.

If that wasn’t bad enough, Mah-Luu had a tendency to giggle at inopportune times, such as when no one had made a joke. Daniera hoped the Ubese had a malfunction in his vocalizer that was causing the outbursts. Either way, from what she had seen so far, “Thermal” Mah-Luu was altogether not the sort of being you would ever want holding a thermal detonator under any circumstances, except possibly if you happened to be really far, far away… as in the next galaxy.

Actually, Daniera wasn’t sure what bothered her more, the thermal detonator or the fact that Love didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by its presence.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Love held up the Darth Vader figurine.

Mah-Luu merely shrugged. “Plenty of guests keep souvenirs. I can hardly be expected to recall every being who crosses the threshold of my fine establishment.”

“Why not?” Love demanded to know. “You probably have vid cameras rolling 36 hours a day for future blackmail purposes.”

“You wound me,” Mah-Luu said, switching on the detonator. “Come now, you know I cannot reveal the membership of my club under any circumstances. That’s bad business. And my sort of bad business is only good for getting you dead.” He started giggling, then switched off the device. Just as abruptly, he re-activated the timer. “Not to mention, I have certain ethical responsibilities as the owner of this establishment. A bond with my customers. One of trust and mutual confidence that what occurs within these walls never sees the harshly judgmental light of day.” When he finished his soliloquy, the detonator was returned to standby mode.

“I already know that the being in question had a membership. I even know why. I could smell the cheap perfume from one of your girls all over him.”

Daniera’s eyes widened, but she remained silent.

Mah-Luu leaned his bulk forward. The detonator was switched on… “Then why, pray tell, are you here, Love?”

“I want to see the girl.”

“It’ll cost you just like everyone else.”

“Fine.” Love reached into a pocket.

The Ubese’s finger hovered anxiously over the still-active trigger.

Love held up a cred stick.

The detonator switched off. Mah-Luu held out a corpulent hand for the stick and carefully studied the amount held inside. His giggle broke the silence.

On went the detonator. Away went Daniera’s breath.

Love locked eyes with Mah-Luu and a noiseless test of wills seemed to stretch on for too many seconds.

Off went the detonator. “Who?”

“Senator Luralon Odaay.”

“Ah, yes. The Turian.” Mah-Luu touched a recessed button under his desk and the door swung open. “Thermal” gave a high-pitched giggle. “He just loved Induki.”

“I bet he did.”

The cred stick vanished out of sight, but the Ubese still played with the detonator.

Love walked to the door, shadowed by Daniera. “So much for those pesky ethics,” he said.

“I have to hand it you, Love. You are still pretty good at what you do… for your age, that is.”

Love glared at him. “Is this the part where you give me the recruitment speech?” Mah-Luu giggled at that. “You? Hah! I’d as soon hire a Luudrian lockjaw. At least when its eyes turned red, I’d know it was going to turn on me. I doubt you come with any similar safety features.” The Ubese focused his gaze on Daniera. “Your companion doesn’t say much… I like that in a female.” The Ubese leered at her. “What do you say, sweetmeat? Looking for a job?”

Already annoyed at having had to play the subservient mute, Daniera strode back to the desk and pointed her hold-out right at Mah-Luu’s head. “Are you looking for a third eye?”