Scourge: Star Wars Legends (Star Wars - Legends) by Jeff Grubb

Author:Jeff Grubb [Grubb, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780345534439
Publisher: Random House Worlds
Published: 2012-04-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

DEALINGS

The outermost moon of Bosph was a moon only out of pity, a mere chunk of rock that was the remains of a larger chunk of rock that had been blasted apart in a forgotten war. It was far from the planet and far from the primary, and was as desolate a spot as one could wish for, far from the populated space lanes of the galaxy.

It was the perfect place for Morga Bunna, retired Bosph bounty hunter, to set up his supply depot.

The tides of trade were fickle, Morga knew. A seller might want to hold on to an item until he found the proper buyer. Unfortunately, such an item could be rather warm to hold on to, sometimes being as hot as the surface of a sun. And the seller may not want to meet directly with the buyer. And that was where Morga Bunna’s depot came in useful. It served both as a cache point for particularly hot items, and as a trading post for individuals who did not want to deal face-to-face.

Over time, Morga had burrowed through the moon-let, carving out halls and passages and storage rooms, as well as building himself a translucent pleasure dome along one side. There were things that had been there for years, their original owners having forgotten about them or died. And there were other materials that moved smoothly as the tides favored their sale and they were shipped out.

Yet Morga Bunna did not become an old Bosph by being a fool, and he was prepared when a ship identifying itself as the New Ambition contacted him through a channel that only clients should have, requesting a meeting.

The New Ambition landed on one of the transport pads, little more than level spots on the moon, while droids maneuvered access tubes to the ship’s air locks. Three individuals left the ship, as he had been warned—a Bothan, a Pantoran, and a Jedi. He met them beneath the transparisteel dome at the heart of his complex.

To the new arrivals, Morga looked like any prosperous and respected Bosph—his four arms inscribed with the star maps that recorded his travels, his slender horns tipped with gold, his compound eyes newly washed and gleaming, his robes of the finest quality. He stood calmly in the center of his small dome, surrounded by native plants of his homeworld, growing under radiation lights. The oppulent garden space was flanked by balconies leading off into other parts of his den.

Morga rocked back and forth as the three approached. “Welcome to my humble shop,” he said. “Are you the Jedi called Mander Zuma?”

The human nodded, and motioned to the others. “These are my companions, Eddey Be’ray and Reen Irana. I must confess that I am surprised by your allowing us to land.”

“Civilization reaches out even to the darkest corners of space,” said Morga. “I would offer a libation, but I don’t know your preferences, and to be honest I hope that this exchange will be brief.”

“You know my name,” said Mander.

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