The Deadly Hunter

4

“She injured your person!” Didi cried as soon as he saw Qui-Gon. “I cannot believe such a thing!” His hands flew to his mouth. “That means she is truly dangerous. Oh, I am in more trouble than I thought!”

“Never mind your troubles for the moment. We need water so we can clean the wound,” Obi-Wan said sharply to Didi.

“Of course, of course, let me help. I have a med kit here somewhere…” Didi began to fuss around the desk, pushing aside datasheets, receipts, tins, and boxes.

“Never mind. Obi-Wan, it is okay to leave me. Go get your medpac,” Qui-Gon said.

Quickly, Obi-Wan found his medpac. Didi brought a basin of water. Obi-Wan moved forward but Didi waved him away.

Obi-Wan watched as Didi cut away the tunic and carefully cleaned the wound, making sure no dirt or fabric remained in the torn flesh. His plump fingers were surprisingly delicate. He worked quickly and expertly, with no trace of hesitation. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but admire his skill. He would have expected the excitable Didi to feel faint, or moan with sickness at the sight of blood.

Didi dripped bacta into the wound and then with great gentleness wrapped a clean bandage around it.

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon said. “I could not ask for better care.”

“You’ll need a fresh tunic,” Obi-Wan said. “I can fetch one—” Didi began.

“In a moment.” Qui-Gon frowned at Didi. “This bounty hunter is not giving up. Either she is very stubborn, or there truly is a warrant out for your arrest.”

“Impossible,” Didi said, shaking his head.

“Or there could be no warrant at all, just someone who wants to do Didi harm,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “Bounty hunters often take private commissions.”

Didi swiveled and stared at Obi-Wan, his mouth open. “Oh, do not say that, Obi-Wan. That is even worse. It would mean that someone has placed a death mark on my head.”

Obi-Wan was taken aback at the sight of Didi’s pale face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I appreciate that very much, dear boy,” Didi said. “Very kind of you. But you did. Why would someone do such a thing? I have no enemies. Only friends.”

“Obi-Wan, you make a good point,” Qui-Gon said thoughtfully. “We should have considered this before. It is logical, considering the bounty hunter’s attitude and how Didi makes his living.”

“Serving food and drink?” Didi asked, baffled. “I admit some have gotten sick after supper, but I’ve never actually poisoned anyone. At least, not on purpose.”

“I am not talking about your dubious cooking skills,” Qui-Gon said to Didi. “I’m talking about your sideline. You traffic in information. Information that could benefit or harm criminals as well as security forces and members of the Senate. What if you know something that someone doesn’t want to get out?”

“But what could it be?” Didi asked. “I don’t know anything.”

“You must,” Qui-Gon insisted. “You just don’t know what it is.”

“How can I know something without knowing it?” Didi cried in frustration. “Is this worth a death sentence, I ask you? I hear something and pass it along for a tiny profit, and suddenly I am dead? Is that fair?”

Didi would have gone on, but Qui-Gon silenced him with an impatient gesture. “Let me see if we can narrow this down. If we knew who hired the bounty hunter, we could begin to investigate. Let me contact Tahl.”

Didi slumped in a chair. Obi-Wan drew closer to Qui-Gon. “You’re going to involve the Temple resources?” he asked in a low tone.

“Tahl is a friend of Didi’s, too,” Qui-Gon said, activating his comlink. “She’ll want to help.”

Seconds later, Obi-Wan heard Tahl’s crisp voice over the comlink. After Qui-Gon filled her in on the situation, she said, “Didi is in trouble? Of course I want to help.”

“I know the bounty hunter is Sorrusian,” Qui-Gon said. “She didn’t speak. She’s about my size, and very muscular. She wears plastoid armor and has a shaved head.”

“I know of her,” Tahl said. “I don’t know her name. Nobody does. We’ve received reports that are somewhat alarming, so Yoda asked me to keep track of her movements. It’s hard because she tends to disappear into thin air. I didn’t know she was on Coruscant. She doesn’t work for governments, just private individuals with great wealth. She gained her reputation with a series of for-hire killings. Some of her victims have been in high-level government or finance.”

“In other words,” Qui-Gon said grimly, “she is able to get around high-level security.”

“Exactly. And word is that she will take any assignment if the price is right. She’s very good, Qui-Gon. Very dangerous.”

A moan came from the desk.

Tahl’s warm laugh came through the comlink. “I hear you, Didi. Do not fret. With Qui-Gon helping you, everything will turn out fine. Qui-Gon, I will see you and Obi-Wan soon, I’m sure. Yoda is expecting you shortly.”

Tahl’s voice was warm as she spoke to Didi. Obi-Wan didn’t understand. Obviously, he missed whatever charms Didi had for the other Jedi.

Qui-Gon cut the communication. “The situation is getting interesting,” he observed.

“I would hardly use that word,” Didi said mournfully. “Terrifying, maybe. Horrible. Unfair. Hopeless—”

“The question is,” Qui-Gon interrupted, ignoring Didi, “why would such a high-priced killer be hired to take care of a low-level scrounger like Didi?”

Didi sat erect. “Low-level? Just a minute. I resent that characterization. Haven’t you noticed that we painted the windowsills? And as for scrounging—”

“Didi, focus your mind,” Qui-Gon interrupted urgently. “Think!”

“Hardly my best ability,” Didi said. “But I’ll try. Information has dried up recently. And I’ve been busy with the café. Astri doesn’t like my… sideline, so I have to be careful now. However, there are a couple of pieces that came my way recently by way of a regular informant, Fligh. But neither of them seems at all important. I wasn’t even sure who to sell them to.. “

“What are they?” Qui-Gon asked impatiently.

Didi held up one fat finger. “First, Senator Uta S’orn from the planet Belasco is resigning.” He held up a second. “And the Tech Raiders are moving their headquarters to Vandor-3.”

Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon. “Tech Raiders?”

“Black market traders in space vessels and weapons,” Qui-Gon explained.

“But why would the gang care if I knew their new location?” Didi asked. “They know I wouldn’t sell it to the security forces. I myself have used the gang to find parts for my pocket cruiser.” At Qui-Gon’s raised eyebrow, he quickly added, “Well, they are cheaper! It’s not illegal. Technically.”

“Even if the parts are stolen?” Qui-Gon asked.

“I don’t know if they’re stolen!” Didi insisted. “Why should I ask? I know I didn’t steal them.”

“What about Senator S’orn?” Qui-Gon asked.

Didi shrugged. “She’s not on any important committees or planning a war or anything. It’s a piece of gossip, nothing more. I’m planning to call on a few journalists. One will probably pay a few credits. I’ll have to hurry to beat Fligh. He’s been known to sell information more than once. I assure you, this is all routine news. Nothing worth killing anyone over. Especially me.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Qui-Gon said thoughtfully. “We’ll have to investigate both items.”

Why us? Obi-Wan thought. They had done one favor for Didi. Did Qui-Gon mean to involve them further?

The door opened and a slender female rushed into the room. She wore a utility cap that was tugged low over her forehead. Curly dark hair poked out of it, waving around her ears and neck. She wore a floor-length apron that was snowy white except for one brilliant splotch of red. As she walked, she left floury footprints. She held a pan full of soup that was the obvious source of the apron stain.

She thrust a spoon at Obi-Wan. “Taste this, will you?”

Obi-Wan glanced at Qui-Gon, mindful of his directive not to eat the food.

“Don’t be shy. Here.” She pushed the spoon toward him.

Obi-Wan had no choice. Tentatively, he spooned up the soup and swallowed. A smooth, tangy liquid slid down his throat.

“It’s good,” he said, surprised.

“Really?” Didi and the young woman said together, also surprised.

“Really,” Obi-Wan told her.

She turned and saw Qui-Gon. “Qui-Gon! Didi said you were here. How good it is to see you.” She placed the pot on the desk, spilling a little over the top. She took the edge of her apron and wiped the spill, knocking a shower of durasheets onto the floor. “Oops.”

Didi shot Qui-Gon a warning look that she did not catch.

“Just a friendly visit,” Qui-Gon answered. “You’re right, Astri. It’s been too long since I visited your father.”

“Have you seen the improvements?” Astri asked. “I painted everything myself. It was hard to persuade my father to spruce up the place.”

“I don’t want to scare the regular customers away,” Didi said.

“If only we could,” Astri groaned.

“I don’t know what was wrong with my cooking,” Didi went on. “Nobody ever complained.”

“Sure,” Astri said cheerfully. “They were too busy being sick. Meanwhile, I’ve decided we must spend money on new napkins, and cloths for the tables—”

“Who needs a cloth? It just gets dirty!”

Astri turned to Qui-Gon and spread her hands. “Do you see my problem? I want to make the place better, and all he does is complain. He welcomes back the dregs of the galaxy. He promised to give up buying and selling information, but he can’t resist feeding them. How can I attract a better class of customer when the place is full of gangsters?”

“Everyone likes to eat with gangsters,” Didi observed. “It adds spice to the food.”

“I’ll add the spice, thank you very much,” Astri said crisply. “I’ve landed a big client, Father. This could be our big break. There’s a medical conference coming to the Senate, and scientists are arriving from all over the galaxy. Guess who booked the café for a small dinner?”

“The Chancellor?” Didi guessed.

“Not yet,” Astri said with a grin. “Jenna Zan Arbor!”

Obi-Wan had heard of Jenna Zan Arbor. Years ago, as a young scientist, she had achieved fame by inventing a vaccine for a world threatened by a deadly space virus. She focused her attention on helping planets with low levels of technology. Her last project was to triple the food supply on the famine-stricken planet of Melasaton.

“Who?” Didi asked.

“Jenna Zan Arbor!” Astri cried. “She reserved the entire café for her party!”

“Did you say elegant?” Didi asked. “Now that sounds expensive.”

“Just… don’t… ruin it,” Astri said through her teeth. Then she picked up the soup and left the room, curls bouncing, apron swinging, and soup dribbling onto the floor.

“Isn’t she marvelous?” Didi sighed. “But she is driving me into bankruptcy.”

“You promised her not to buy and sell information anymore,” Qui-Gon said.

“Well, I suppose I did, yes. But can I help it if this one or that one whispers something to me in exchange for a few credits or a meal?”

“Maybe Didi should go away for awhile,” Obi-Wan suggested. “Some other planet where the bounty hunter won’t find him.”

“Now that’s an idea!” Didi said cheerfully. “Running away is just my style!” Then he frowned. “But I don’t like to leave Astri.”

“Of course not,” Qui-Gon agreed.

“She will spend all my money,” Didi said. Qui-Gon sighed. “I don’t think you should run away, Didi. The bounty hunter is undoubtedly an expert tracker. And it is better that we face the problem here and now. Obi-Wan and I will do some investigating for you.”

“But we’re due back at the Temple!” Obi-Wan protested. “Tahl said Yoda was expecting us.”

“We can spare a few hours,” Qui-Gon said. “I’ll contact Yoda on the way and tell him why we are delaying our return. He’ll understand. He’s a—”

“—friend of Didi’s,” Obi-Wan supplied.

Qui-Gon’s eyes twinkled. “Besides, it will give you a chance to see the seamier side of Coruscant.”

“Just what I always wanted,” Obi-Wan grumbled.

“And when you return, I’ll treat you to a delicious meal!” Didi announced.

Obi-Wan looked doubtful. “As long as you’re not the one to cook it,” he said.