Part 2

  Carlo, Charles, and their guide, Cress, returned to the hotel. Cress wasted no time reporting the events of the morning to his father who was at his customary place behind the front desk.

  Horace was equally amazed at the hunter’s success and more than happy to take a share of the credits from the chit that Carlo had brought back.

  Horace, happy to serve but more happy to get paid for doing so, handed the chit back, saying “So, what’s next for you? A nice meal? I know someone that could get you some quality time at the Twi’lek healing baths.”

  Carlo shook his head, “No. We need to call Utopia.”

  Horace clapped his hands, “Of course! Right this way.”

  Horace led the pair to the side room where a few chairs surrounded a communication desk. He busied himself activating the device. “Who do you want to call?”

  Carlo thought for a moment. He didn’t know Charles’ parents at all and he wasn’t sure that the boy would say anything to them since he wasn’t exactly the most talkative sort. He ultimately decided to call Lucy. She knew him and the boy’s parents.

  “Can you place the call to the mercantile?” Carlo asked. It was not quite midday. Lucy would likely be there.

  “Absolutely,” Horace replied. He keyed in the appropriate sequence and they all waited.

  Carlo looked down at Charles who was playing absent mindedly with a stick he’d found on the road. He didn’t even seem to realize what they were doing. Carlo felt almost disappointed after all they’d been through to get to this point.

  They waited for a minute that stretched into about five before Horace finally said, “No answer.”

  Carlo gave him a quizzical glance and he answered it saying, “They may be too busy to answer. We can leave a message.”

  Carlo nodded. “How do we do that?” and

  Horace punched a couple of other buttons. “When you’re ready just talk. Tell them who you are and to call you back here at the Hotel Rodia in Paradise.”

  Carlo nervously cleared his throat. “This message is for Lucy. This is Carlo.” It suddenly occurred to him that he shouldn’t give too much away to his host. He continued: “Charles and I made it to Paradise. Call me at the Hotel Rodia. We’d like to hear your voice.”

  Carlo finished and Horace hit one last button sending the message. “All done!”

  “Now what?” Carlo inquired.

  Horace laughed. “Just have to wait for them to answer. Go get some food and check back later.”

  *****

  Glade stopped to catch his breath outside the Colonel’s study. That underhanded butler had told him that the Colonel wasn’t busy and to go right in but he’d been burned by that vindictive old man before. He didn’t want to anger his boss but at the same time the message he had was probably important. When the puck had been given to him, the messenger had been pretty sure the colonel would want to see it right away.

  Glade sucked in a big breath and knocked on the study’s door. Seconds ticked away and glade’s anxiety seemed to jump with each one. Finally, a voice came from within: “Enter.”

  He stepped through the door, his anxiety still high, and pulled the wide-brimmed hat from his head. “Boss? Do you have a minute?”

  The Colonel was sitting behind his grand, ornate desk. He was smoking a cigarillo and used the hand holding it to wave Glade forward. “What’s going on?”

  He held up the message puck. “This message came in about an hour ago. They told you’d probably want to see it right away.”

  The Colonel pointed at the desk. Glade, grateful that he’d not angered his boss, rushed forward, almost stumbled over his own feet. He placed the puck on the desk in front of the Colonel.

  The boss reached out and pushed a switch, starting the playback.

  A ghostly blue, transparent image of Carlo appeared above the puck and began to speak: “This message is for Lucy. This is Carlo. Charles and I made it to Paradise. Call me at the Hotel Rodia. We’d like to hear your voice.”

  The Colonel bit his lower lip and crushed out the cigarillo on the ashtray sitting on his desk. He flexed his hand, attempting to put his anger under his control where it belonged. His success was marginal. His facial expression didn’t change but he swept his hand across the desk, sending the ashtray flying across the room where it shattered against the wall.

  Glade nearly jumped out of his skin as the glass bauble shattered and he nearly crushed the hat held in his hands. What he hadn’t realized, in his nervous state, was that the Colonel hadn’t actually made contact with the ashtray, it had flown in the direction of the Colonel’s hand but the cause of its flight had been the Force.

  As the crashing noise faded, the Colonel’s face froze in place. Glade stayed as still as his nerves would allow. It was not easy. His eyes were wide and he tried not to breathe, afraid that it would disturb his employer. Again the seconds ticked by, too slow for Glade’s taste. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face but he didn’t even dare to wipe it away.

  The Colonel’s thoughts were racing beneath the glacial exterior. How had this happened? That boy had the most incredible luck. First surviving the speeder crash, then surviving the storm, and then apparently running into someone who could help him to safety? What were the odds of that?

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  The Colonel cursed to himself thinking: I should have tossed that little brat off the cliff myself along with those two idiots, Burke and Samno.

  But what to do now? The Tunnel B project was still not ready. He needed time. If that boy was able to tell anyone what he’d seen the whole enterprise would be ruined.

  The Colonel looked over at Glade. The man was scared to death. He could feel the fear practically oozing out of the man’s pores. In a way it was exhilarating.

  “Glade,” the Colonel’s voice had a severe intonation. He straightened up. “I have an assignment for you.”

  “Yes, Boss?”

  “We need to keep this information quiet for the moment. I don’t want to raise any false hopes. This message could be some kind of hoax,” the Colonel explained.

  “Right,” Glade agreed.

  The Colonel continued, “Send a message from my private com to this Carlo. No names. Thank him for taking care of the boy. Tell him to stay put and we’ll send a transport to bring them back to Utopia within the next day or two.”

  Glades nodded in silence, not quite understanding where the Colonel was going with this.

  “When that’s done, take a speeder and head to Paradise. An associate of mine will meet you along the way.” At this point the Colonel leaned toward Glade over the desk. “And this is of utmost importance: follow his instructions to the letter. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir, Boss!” Glade affirmed. Then his face fell. “Who am I meeting? And, uh, where?”

  The Colonel’s eyes narrowed slightly, “Don’t worry about who he is. He’ll meet you at the main crossroads.”

  Glade perked up. “Sure, Boss! You bet!” Then as soon as the words left his mouth, he was crestfallen again. He just knew he was asking too many questions. “So, uh, when will he be at the crossroads?” Glade cringed, sure that the hammer was about to fall.

  The Colonel didn’t answer right away. He didn’t alter his expression, just stared icily at Glade. In truth, he was enjoying his lackey’s fright but he didn’t let on. He let Glade suffer for a few more seconds. Finally he spoke. “He’ll be there when you get there,” he said with a mysterious finality that even Glade could interpret as a dismissal.

  He left the study feeling the eyes of the Colonel on his back until the door closed behind him.

  Glade’s first order of business was to send the message. He went down the hall to a room just off the main dining area where the comlink was kept. He went inside and turned to close the double doors behind him. As he did he saw the butler staring at him with undisguised venom. Glade returned the glare and pulled the doors shut.

  Glade activated the comlink and pressed the control to start recording. “This message is for Carlo. We got your message and we’ll send a transport to bring you and Charles back to Utopia. Thank you for taking care of the boy. The transport should be there in the next day or so.” As soon as he finished he pushed a second control that sent the message to the hotel receiver.

  That done, he left to find a speeder.

  *****

  Carlo and Charles returned to the hotel from the saloon with full bellies. Carlo thought it was nice to have a meal brought to them at a table instead of sitting around a cook fire in the middle of the desert. He’d even had the thought that he’d be able to get used to that kind of service.

  Charles sat on one of the couches in the lobby while Carlo went to talk to Horace who was at his customary place behind the counter. He addressed the hunter as Carlo approached. “How was lunch?”

  “Nice to sit at a table for a change.” Replied Carlo.

  The Rodian laughed loudly. “You got a message,” he said. “This way.”

  He led Carlo back to the com desk. Horace pressed a control and a life sized, blue transparent hologram of Glade’s head appeared above the table repeating the words Glade had recorded.

  When the message ended, Carlo stood silent, staring at the now still hologram still above the table even though its message was delivered. Carlo rubbed the stubble on his chin.

  Carlo didn’t recognize the man’s face. He hadn’t identified himself. Where was Lucy? Why hadn’t she replied to his message?

  Horace looked from the hologram to Carlo confused. “They’re coming to get you. Isn’t that good?”

  Carlo nodded but still had consternation covering his face. “Yeah,” his voice almost whispered. “That’s great.”

  Even the Rodian’s normally jovial attitude seemed to deflate. “You don’t sound great.”

  “Yeah,” Carlo repeated.

  Horace looked concerned, “What’s wrong?”

  Carlo shook his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “But I have a bad feeling about this.”

  *****

  Glade slowed the speeder as he approached the crossroads. He had managed to find one of the speeders with an enclosed cockpit. It made long distance travel more comfortable without the wind slamming into his face for hours.

  Glade looked around. There was no one there. He must have arrived early. He supposed that he’d have to wait.

  He gradually came to a stop at the side of the road before it widened into the circle where the three roads met. His mind wandered a bit while he was waiting. At the end of each of these roads was a town. Two of them, Paradise and Utopia, were mining towns. Eden, on the other hand, was more of a center for commerce and home to a spaceport. Glade had never actually been there but he’d heard all kinds of stories about the sky travelers who came there to trade for the coaxium fuel they used to power their sky ships. Glade had thought about going there one day. He had been around the mine his whole life and had never actually seen one of the ships that used the very thing they were mining.

  Glade stepped out of the speeder and stretched, his spine popping. That felt good. He took his hat off and leaned back against the speeder. The sun was starting to get low in the sky. His stomach rumbled. He cursed under his breath. He’d left Utopia so quickly that he didn't think to bring any food. He looked back down the road from. It was too late to go back. He looked down the road toward Paradise. Even if he left now it would be several hours before he arrived. He put his hat back on. How could he have been so stupid? He was going to starve. He kicked the dust off his boots in frustration then whipped open the door and threw himself into the speeder.

  That’s when he saw the black form sitting in the passenger’s seat.

  “Dank ferrik!” he swore loudly, falling all over himself exiting the speeder quickly while trying to draw his blaster at the same time. It ended poorly with Glade sitting in an undignified manner in the dirt with one leg still in the speeder, trying to support himself with one hand while aiming the blaster with the other.

  Glade might have found this position funny, especially if it had happened to someone else. However, in the twilight on a deserted road the sudden appearance of a silent stranger wearing all black from his hood to his booted feet, a stranger who’d managed to sneak into his speeder as if he’d appeared out of thin air.

  Just sitting there.

  Doing nothing but staring straight ahead.

  He hadn’t moved a muscle.

  Glade sat in stunned silence, still pointing his weapon. If the black garbed man had noticed the weapon, he gave no indication.

  Glade regarded the man in black carefully. His hooded head betrayed none of his facial features. His tunic and breeches were loose fitting and he wore no visible weapon. Glade could see the man’s slow, regular breathing so he was sure this wasn’t a droid.

  For a split second Glade considered pulling the trigger but instead he stammered, “Who. . . who are you?”

  The man in black said nothing nor did he move except for the continued regular motion of his breathing.

  Glade slowly removed his leg from the speeder and moved into a low crouch, all the while keeping his blaster trained on the man in black. He tried again, “Do. . . do you know the Colonel?”

  There was a slow, almost imperceptible nod.

  Glade swallowed hard. “Are you the one I was sent to meet?” His voice now barely above a whisper.

  Another slow, single nod.

  Glade let out a slow breath. “Now what? The Colonel said you’d tell me what to do.”

  The man in black nodded a third time and then slowly raised his arm, pointing two fingers ahead at the road to Paradise.

  Glade slowly put his blaster back in his holster. It was going to be a long afternoon. He got back in the speeder and pointed the vehicle toward Paradise.