Somewhere in the long forgotten future. Kevin Colbran
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The leader snapped.
“I will show them to one authorised by our government; I suggest you move your rubbish off the road so our peaceful visitors can go about our business,” At which the three ‘peaceful Wookys’ gave a beautiful smile full of very long and sharp fangs.
The leader reached into his pouch and produced a computer tablet, “This from your government authorising my team, Identification please.” The leader repeated if not quite in the same haughty tone having taken note of the smiles and assorted weapons.
“Since you asked so nicely,” Hnetz relented and showed her ID as did the passengers. The trio’s ID matched their description, and the vehicle was waved through.
In the rear view mirrors it was apparent that the leader was sending the description of vehicle and occupants to the next level.
“I suppose those IDs are accurate?” Killa asked.
“Of course, they are duly authenticated by the merchant guild; I issued them myself as the sector secretary,” Hnetz stated smugly, “As I did the vehicle registration.” Clearing the town and turning onto a side road winding through the forest and valleys, gradually climbing into hills.
Arriving at a nondescript farm gate which opened at a signal, the vehicle drove past the farmhouse then proceeded through to the rear of the farm and into the woods behind. When the team entered the treeline, there hidden in a glen among the trees there was a magnificent house and hardly an old hut.
“Welcome to our humble hut, I hope you will find it pleasant and quiet,” Sartz said.
“Looks gorgeous,” Algertz agreed.
“We should be able to keep a low profile long enough for them to get tired of looking,” Roxz said.
"We should have plenty of warning. Paranoid for me to ask, but is there a back door?” Killa asked.
“Yes and we have a dozen speeders to use, there is a narrow track which skirts through the back into the forest,” Roxz advised.
“I have ridden them before as has Killa, Algertz?” Humph advised.
“Of course, I have the latest Mil-spec 75 at home,” She answered smugly.
“If that’s settled can we have our niece back?” Hnetz asked.
Humph nodded, the disguises sloughed off and melded to reform the familiar bear.
. . .
On board the Reynar, the reports were streaming in, and Commodore Rham directed, “Key the computer to highlight one humanoid 80 kilos and another 50 kilos in the company of at least one Oxzen.”
The Intel officer complied; gave a look of inquiry and asking, “Aye sir, based on what data?”
“I believe that was a Droman ship. Accordingly, disguises are likely, and the subject could be visiting family as suspected.”
The computer beeped, and the IO announced, “Headed East are Two Oxzen and two Twilek, ID merchants, West 4 Oxzen, ID farming family and North two Oxzen and three Wookys, ID also as merchants. Fwillsving authorities confirm all Oxzen ID as residents, the Twilek and Wooky are recent arrivals through customs.”
“You have tracers placed on the vehicles?” Rham asked expecting an affirmative.
“Yes, Sir.” Commander Blohm confirmed, “I will assign bio-sensor teams ready to confirm species when intercepted.”
. . .
“Do you have a radio transmitter nearby?” Humph asked.
“None that I know of,” Roxz replied.
“I think we had a better look at the van I am getting an irritating buzz from something.” Commented Humph as he searched around the rear of the vehicle. Then he pointed at a little patch on the back and said, “There it is; an Imperial tracking bug.”
“I suppose they stick them on all the cars in case they need to follow.” Roxz thought aloud. “If we disable it the sudden stoppage will send the message that we looked, perhaps if we stick it on a drone and sent it along the highway to the end of the road, it may distract them.”
"The vehicle registration is for the farm we passed. If we park it back there, perhaps they won’t think to look up here,” Hnetz pointed out, then turning to one of the house staff she ordered, “Gerxz, please drive this van down to the farm, leave it there and return with your offsider in another vehicle.”
“When you do it warn the farmers that old Gimpy may pay a visit,” Roxz added, “They will know to move the herd onto the track disrupting any traces we may have left up to here.”
“I suppose my other team had better steer clear; they may have sensors which can detect actual species. I have to protect my avatars,” Humph added, “OK I have parked the shuttle on the moon until safe.”
“So now we wait and see if the ruse works,” Hnetz commented, “In the meantime perhaps we all can have a little relaxation and freshen up.”
. . .
Rham and Commander Ezra Blohm were relaxing playing a game of chess. “Now the Droman ship, I believe the operating system is the Droman itself, formidable but not something that we can duplicate,” Rham said as he moved his cruiser piece, “As each Droman can simultaneously coordinate 20 tasks or individuals. This ability would be dangerous to the Empire if a hundred or more Dromans could operate as a fleet.”
Blohm moved his piece and asked, “What is stopping them?”
“Consider this scenario; we have six system grandmasters and 20 odd masters in our task group?” Rham asked as he moved the next piece.
“Yes?”
“Perhaps if we select a master each to play a game, split the remainder into advisory teams, connect them all with radios on the same frequency and then instruct each team member to advise as they see fit.”
“Unless there was radio discipline, impossible; no-one could think, with all the chatter going on.”
“Precisely the problem, if two or more Droman get too close they drown each other out and then lose control of their parts,” Rham confirmed, “Death star check.”
“Even splitting my attention works,” Blohm noted as he warded off the threat, “So if we concentrate on the Oxzen princess as the main objective we should be successful.”
“Indeed, note that we need a live hostage in good health, so exercise care,” Rham concluded, “Ah good move perhaps diversions work both ways.”
. . .
Gerxz arrived back from the farmhouse; he reported that the farmers were mustering the stock onto the trail. The farmers would move them into the paddock between the farmhouse and the boundary fence. As he was delivering this news, there was a thrum as the fighters cruised over the farmhouse.
“Just in time,” Roxz noted, “If you hadn’t spotted that radio tracker they would have zeroed on here instead.”
“Well, that gives us perhaps half an hour extra before they realise that Algertz isn't there,” Hnetz advised, “We can expect at least two shuttles loaded with troopers and speeders within the hour. If they have a leader with an ounce of brain, it won’t take them long to search for where we are.”
“So we get our gear together and nip out the back door,” Roxz decided, “We have a retreat further towards the coast where there is a small space port.”
“Sounds like a good spot to offload unique merchandise,” Humph suggested.
Roxz pretended to be innocent to the implication, “Well some things do incur an outrageous port tax, not that I would know anything about that,” He said piously.