The miners guild was tucked away among the winding market streets of New Shallos of Lorrd. Brant almost missed it the first time, as he had been expecting a grand, possibly gold-decked building, and instead the tiny, dark door facing the street seemed more fitting for a moisture farmer’s hovel than a guildhall. Kellaro had insisted they had gotten it right, however, having pulled up a shady map from his datapad. After ducking through, and seeing that the tiny door indeed opened out into a broad courtyard with a row of office buildings behind it, Brant had to admit the Mando had been right.
“Now just remember,” said Brant as Kellaro followed him through the door. “Intimidating, silent, and still.”
“Sure thing, vod,” said Kellaro, lowering his helmet into place with a snap. His voice came out distorted through its speaker. “I’ll just let the helmet do all the talking for me.”
“Helmets don’t talk, Kellaro.”
“Exactly!”
Shaking his head, Brant stepped into the first office in the row, looking around and squinting at the clerk on duty. She stared at the Lord Commander, disbelieving, before backpedaling out of the front room and out of sight so quickly it seemed a gharzr had stung her.
“I wonder what all that was about,” said Kellaro.
“Intimidating, silent, and still, Kellaro!”
“Oh, right.” The Mandalorian straightened and shut up.
Brant paced to the front desk, hitting the summoning bell on it and consenting to idle for half a minute. Even if he was inclined to be more patient, however, the station of Lord Commander could not be kept waiting for long, so after another half minute, Brant slammed down on it again and roared out, “I need to see the head of the guild out here NOW! You have discrepancies to account for!”
Kellaro slammed his fist into his chest as if to punctuate the shouting, but it only served to irritate Brant, and no one came out to meet them. “Maybe he’s on lunch break?” Kellaro offered as Brant smoothly vaulted over the desk and moved for the door the clerk had disappeared behind.
“They knew we were coming,” said Brant impatiently. He wrenched open the door, not much caring what he broke in its inner mechanisms, and strode into the backroom.
And into the middle of a crime scene.
It was perfectly clear what was happening to the lightsaber crystals, at least. They were everywhere, spilling out of crates and lined up on shelves and tables. There were notes on the walls and broken locks strewn about the floor, and occupying a conspicuous position in the middle of the room was a ledger, in the process of being “corrected”.
“So this is a lightsaber crystal?” Kellaro’s voice interrupted Brant’s train of thought. The Mandalorian picked one of the crystals up from the shelf, examining it. “Huh. You know, it’s really not much different to a blaster’s power crystal. In fact, I bet I could fit it right inside…”
“Don’t touch that!” Brant bellowed.
Too late. The crystal went into the blaster and the blaster went off.
Only it went off a lot more explosively than even Brant expected. Kellaro was picking himself up off the floor and from the remnants of a shelving unit, staring at his blaster — what was left of it — in black, twisted pieces on the floor.
“Okay, I take that back,” Kellaro said breathlessly. “It doesn’t fit.”
“These aren’t natural lightsaber crystals…” said Brant, reaching down to pick one up off the floor. He palmed it, reaching into the Force, probing into the rock’s past and composition… “They’re not lightsaber crystals at all, in fact. They’re tiny explosives packed into fake quartz shells!”
“That would be a really impressive bit of sabotage,” said Kellaro, staring around the room. “Look at them all! You could take out most of the Sith Academy with these!”
“Someone’s going to pay for this,” Brant growled.
“What about the real crystals we were supposed to find? Maybe if we–”
“Shut up and follow me,” said Brant, cutting him off. Kellaro grimaced and followed his brother as the Lord Commander carefully picked through the rest of the warehouse. They turned a corner, and there they found the clerk, hurrying a group of men into packing crates into the back of a speeder truck.
“Those crates must have the real ones inside them,” said Brant.
“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it here–” Kellaro started to hiss, only the group heard him. The clerk shouted for the others to close it up, leaping into the co-pilot’s seat and starting the engine. The speeder’s trunk closed with a snap, and two of the men jumped on smaller swoop bikes parked by the garage door.
“They’re getting away!”
The heavy speeder blasted off, whizzing as it spun around and out of the door, followed by the two men on their swoop bikes. Brant and Kellaro pounced on the next swoop bike in line, Brant fumbling with the lock before Kellaro reached over his shoulder and jammed his dataspike into it the keyport.
“How did you…?” Brant stammered as the bike roared to life.
“Just go!” Kellaro yelled as he mounted up behind the Sith.
“Hold on to me!” As soon as Brant felt Kellaro’s arms secure around his waist, he revved the bike’s engine, and they were off.
Though the bike was more manueverable than the heavy speeder in the city streets, the addition of two armor-clad humanoids onboard was slowing it down. The other two swoop bikes were soon lost to view, and the speeder was not much better: each time they spun around corners they gained on it, but each time there was a straight-away, their lead was lost.
“If you can just get alongside it, I could leap over, grapple with their pilot, and get them to stop,” Kellaro said the third time they fell behind.
Brant shook his head with a quick snap, yellow eyes on their target. “You’re not strong enough with that leg to be making that kind of jump.”
“Do you want the bad guy caught or not?” Kellaro snapped back. “Just trust me!”
Brant said nothing, flipping several switches and gunning the swoop bike to dig into its auxiliary power and go a little faster. They were nearly on the speeder’s tail now, so close Kellaro could practically reach out and catch it — but the window of opportunity wouldn’t last for long. The Mandalorian knew running the bike on such high power would overheat it soon. There had to be another way…
“Brant, throw me forward! Use the Force!”
“No, I’m going in. Just take hold of the bike.”
“No, you’re not! I’m the one who’s better with wrestling — I always was! Just throw me!”
Another sudden swerve took them under a market stall’s awning instead of into its supporting pole. Even so, Brant had to spit off a tassle ripped from its trailing edge. “Damn it, I am not throwing you, Kellaro!”
“Kriff you, I’m going on my own then!” Kellaro hit the power button on his jetpack.
“No, don’t — stop! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, KELLARO?!”
Kellaro blasted off, teeth grit and eyes squinted against the sudden rush of wind in his face. He hit the back of the speeder, scrabbling against its shined surface and leaving more scrape marks in the old paint. He could find no purchase however, and in a few seconds he was gliding just behind the vehicle, struggling to stay level as he fought with the truck’s wake.
“Kellaro, get out of the way!” Brant screamed in frustration, hitting the swoop bike’s brakes to keep from plowing into his brother.
“No, I’ve almost got it!” Kellaro called back. He jammed his elbows in close, coaxing a little more speed out of the jetpack. Dangling just upfront of him was the speeder’s tailpipe. If he could just grab onto it…
“Kellaro, you’re not strong enough!” called Brant, spying his strategy. “Get out of the way and let me!”
“But I am strong enough, vod,” Kellaro growled softly. He seized the pipe and pulled.
The next few moments was full of flashing lights, darkness, and pain. He felt peculiarly weightless, before blacking out, before coming to again. He still had a hold of the tailpipe, but only barely, and the speeder was bucking uncontrollably. It seemed like all the blood in his head slammed against the side of his skull, and then he blacked out again… and again… and…
The final time he came to, he was lying in the dust, staring at the speeder streaking on, so far away that he saw the sun reflecting silver on its sides more than he saw the speeder itself.
The image was interrupted by the guttering of a swoop bike powering down next to him, and a crunch of feet as Brant leaped from it and his scowling face appeared in Kellaro’s field of view. “What did I tell you? And now they’re gone! All because of you!”
Kellaro just turned his head to the side, closing his eyes against the wetness that was threatening to escape.