He opened his eyes; both of them.
He found himself staring at the slightly puzzled look of a furry creature with dark brown fur and black, beady eyes. It was wearing a baggy light blue jumpsuit, and stood no taller than one-and-a-half meters. It had tapered and pointed ears lateral-rostrally located, and the beginnings of a black beard growing in from the fur on its chin. Drex had never seen anything like it.
It spoke, saying something in a language Drex did not know, and raising its voice slighty at the end of its exclamation. Its fur was rippling slightly, and it began to back away from the bed upon which Drex rested.
Drex took in his surroundings as he glanced nervously around the room. The last thing he remembered was passing out on the ship. He was definitely not there, nor on any ship anymore. Here the walls were not made of metal and leaky pipes, but rather of cream-colored paneling and track lighting.
There was a window on one wall, through which Drex could see a gray-brown sky over a panoramic view of towering stone and glass columns, smoke stacks, and transceivers. In the background, there was a low buzz of multiple repulsorlifts operating at the same time.
Within the room were a few small tables and chairs made of duraplast, and colored in pastels. In one corner, a vine of some sort climbed a metal pole rising from its flower pot. It had a death grip on that pole, as though it were clinging desperately to life in this high-tech environment.
Ninety degrees to the window was a sliding door, the only apparent way in or out of this chamber. As Drex looked upon it, it hissed and slid to the side into the wall. Through the now-open portal strode another furry creature. This one had light fur, and a neatly trimmed beard of honey-colored hair. It was wearing a baggy black jumper, and also had black eyes.
“Feeling better I hope?” The light-furred one said in accented Basic. “You look better than when you were brought in yesterday.”
“Huh?” Drex shook his head and sat up in the bed. He was breathing easily, and it was as though his wounds had never existed. “Bacta?” He theorized.
“Heh,” the larger furry chuckled. “No, but you weren’t in need of it yesterday, despite your disheveled and exhausted condition.”
“I wasn’t?” Drex asked. It made no sense. He could have sworn he had been mortally wounded and dying.
“The other two are already awake, actually.” The furry continued in a motherly tone. The obviously younger one looked on in silence.
“Lyaia and Oz?” Drex questioned, then nodded. “They’re ok?”
“Yes,” the furry nodded. “Oh, how rude of me. I am Kirdah Urka, and this is my son, Mrae.”
“Pleased to-“ Understanding dawned on him. “By the Force! I’m sorry,” he struggled to rise.
“Please rest,” Kirdah said. “You are safe for now. I’ll be back in shortly.”
“But-“ Drex began, agonizing though it was he was cut short by Kirdah’s exit from the room. Silencing himself, Drex looked over at the smaller Bothan, Mrae. “So I guess my droid made it here huh?”
Mrae’s fur rippled all over his body. “It’s in the living room.”
“Ah,” Drex nodded. He couldn’t read the Bothan’s reactions to him at all. He couldn’t tell if he was boring the kid or not.
“What’s his name?” Mrae asked in what sounded like an innocent tone, though that was hard to tell through the accent.
“R3-D9,” Drex offered. “He’s a military astromech droid.”
“Are you in the military?” Mrae asked.
“No,” Drex responded.
“How did you get him then?”
“Appropriated,” Drex returned, feeling a bit uncomfortable all of a sudden.
The Bothan’s lips stretched into something of a smile. “Did you wipe its memory? If you don’t it might still have some loyalty programming to its former masters.”
“How would you know about that?” Drex smiled. So, Mrae Urka knew about stealing droids did he? “And to answer your question, yes I did. I used to be a droid supervisor in the mines of Austeron.”
The boy kept smiling. “Do you steal droids often?”
“Well,” Drex began, but was interrupted by the door sliding open again.
Kirdah Urka had returned, but was not alone. In tow were two men. One was one-and-a-half handspans taller than the other, and wore a brown hooded robe that matched the color of his considerably long hair but for the wheat-blonde highlights streaking through it. He had strong and lean features beneath a firm jaw and darkly tanned skin. On either side of his face his hair was done into twin braids that ended somewhere in the mid-torso region of his body. The rest of his hair was allowed to flow freely down his back, reaching slightly below where his braids ended. His eyes were brown, warm, and shone brightly. Overall they were his most striking feature by far, eyes like that one was not soon likely to forget.
The other human male was stocky with pale freckled skin and light-blonde buzz-cut hair. He had obviously bulging musculature evident underneath his olive green fatigues. He was also wearing a dark gray vest which harbored a knife in an obvious sheath on the front face of it. Beneath the vest was a short-sleeve black shirt made of some sort of stretchy material which clung to his torso. From his thick belt hung a blaster pistol on his right side, and his feet were clad in black combat boots. In his left hand was clutched some kind of headgear which looked to be made of a heads-up macrobinocular set fused with a comlink. It was a curious but obviously useful contraption which looked to have been home-assembled.
“May I introduce Mr. Trek Starbourne, and his assistant Mr. Samedy Dusk.” Kirdah indicated the taller man first, and the stocky one second.
“Pleased to meet you sir,” Mr. Starbourne said, giving Drex a quick bow.
“Same here,” Mr. Dusk added.
“And here,” Drex responded, giving each man a brief salute.
“They are responsible for the rescue of yourself and the two Duros,” Kirdah continued.
“It would seem I owe you my life then,” Drex said in a friendly tone.
“It was what decency called for,” Mr. Starbourne returned, “think nothing of it.”
“Mr. Starbourne and his assistant are merchant traders,” Kirdah explained, “but they have expressed an interest in aiding your cause.”
Drex’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was rare that anyone would voluntarily get involved in a cause that didn’t concern him. It was Drex’s experience that merchants never did so unless there was some profit for them. In this situation, however, Drex couldn’t fathom what possible profit these two might get out of it. It did, however, occur to Drex, that these two didn’t exactly fit the ‘merchant’ archetype by their appearance in any case. They were probably pirates of some kind by their dress, yet somehow Drex found himself trusting them anyway. The tall one, Mr. Starbourne, in particular Drex felt, was ever increasingly trustworthy, even as he just stood there watching him.
“Perhaps if you explained what exactly is going on, we could explain how we might help you better?” Mr. Starbourne said.
Drex blinked a few times, “Of course.” He inhaled and let the air out slowly. “Two years ago the Detari Shipwright Association began a massive consolidation of its resources and sub-companies across Ledax’s fief. In some cases, this included the acquisition of smaller companies which did business with the DSA, but which were not yet an official part of it.
“This process was repeated on world after world upon which the DSA had a strong presence. However, on the world of Austeron, the location of the DSA Corporate Headquarters, the process was halted by the vote of the members of the Wheyga Mining & Processing Corporation. The owners of the WMPC were then, and continue to be the workers which the WMPC employs. The corporate takeover of the WMPC by the DSA would have meant mass layoffs, and lower wages on Austeron leading to starvation and death for much of its populace. The WMPC owners found this an unacceptable proposition, and so they resisted.
“It rapidly became apparent that this resistance was not appreciated. About a year ago the DSA began to employ assassins to rid itself of key WMPC members. Things escalated, until it was determined that the only way to keep our lives was to declare an open war upon the DSA by the people of Austeron. We hired the closest thing to a military commander we had access to, an old trapper named Dietrich who would occasionally come to the population centers and trade the furs of the animals he’d hunted. He organized us and showed us how to wage a war against a vastly superior enemy.
“Sadly, even the knowledge that Dietrich gave us, and his leadership, is limited by the resources at hand. We are losing this battle. In all likelihood when we fall, no member of the WMPC will survive it, nor any member of the open resistance, nor any who help us. We need outside help, supplies, weapons, and troops to continue our fight. Dietrich sent myself and my friend, Jiorden Crux, to fetch help.
“My friend did not make it, he was captured by the DSA. I am our last hope for survival, for our freedom and our lives.” Drex paused then, to breathe and chuckle. “A sad hero though I may be.” Here inside the apartment the scrubbers kept the air blissfully free of the toxins which pervaded the outside world. It actually smelled pleasant here. Mr. Starbourne reflected on this as he thought on what Drex had said. He exchanged a look with Mr. Dusk, then both turned to watch what Kirdah would do.
“You have been through much,” Kirdah nodded. “Why did you choose me to contact?”
“Dietrich said you would know who could help us.” Drex responded hopefully.
Kirdah laughed heartily, her fur rippling in time with the sound. “Ah my old friend Dietrich. He would think I could help you, wouldn’t he? Truth be told Mr. Odagon, I don’t think that I can. We are in Mindander’s territory, Hutt Space at that. Here you won’t find many friendly ears to your cause. Your plight seems more fit for the long-ago-extinct Jedi Order than the rabble and scum you will find here on Nar Dundo.”
Drex frowned. Had this whole trip been in vain? He turned to Mr. Starbourne, “did you say you could help me?”
Mr. Starbourne nodded, “Indeed I did. Myself and my partner here will do our best. Let’s start with your ship. It will take quite a bit to get it repaired. Considering that the odds of your getting such aid here on Nar Dundo are next to none-“
“I wouldn’t say that,” Kirdah interrupted. “I have a few connections who owe me. I’ll call in a favor and have your ship repaired.”
“Heh,” Drex chuckled, “it’s not my ship, but the help is appreciated.”
“Whose ship is it?” Mr. Dusk asked, somewhat surprised.
“Lyaia Ninda’s,” Drex responded honestly, “and possibly Oz Ninda’s as well. They just inherited it.” His tone was somewhat sad.
“Oh,” Mr. Starbourne said, visibly reacting to the statement and clearly catching Drex’s implied information about the circumstances of the transfer of ownership.
“In that case,” Kirdah said without missing a beat, “I’ll make sure it’s done right.”
“Thank you,” Drex said. “Now, I hate to be a broken holorecording, but I need troops and equipment. Do you know who I could get those from?” The question was directed at Mr. Starbourne.
The tall man smiled warmly, “have some faith Mr. Odagon. I do not have access to the things you name, but I’m sure a way will open for us which will lead us to the place we need to be. That, and you now have myself and Mr. Dusk as allies.”
“Forgive me for not believing that just two more people will make a difference.” Drex struggled to keep the bitterness from his voice. Dietrich had led him to believe that finding Kirdah Urka would be the end of their problems, but it seemed that the Chev hunter had been wrong. Without an army and new supplies the resistance was doomed, and his family’s life, and those of all his friends and their families, was over.
“You’d be surprised Mr. Odagon,” Mr. Starbourne rebutted, “about how much just two people can do.”