The ship eased into its top speed away from the Ilstaean system. The whole while the crew and passengers watched the scanners for any sign of pursuit from the Separatist cruisers, remaining silent. After an hour, they relaxed. They were safely away from the system and there was no sign that the Separatists were on their way.
“We’re very fortunate that Ilstaes’ moon bodies interfere with scanning equipment as well as they do,” the pilot said with a sigh of relief. “Without the high sulfite content in the asteroid core, we might not have made it away. Those Techno Union ships are outfitted with top-of-the-line equipment.”
They flew for four more hours before they came to Phelene. It was a large, hazily tan planet.
Mikau observed Phelene as it loomed larger in the viewshield. “Are we certain this is a metropolis?” he asked. “It appears to be an ordinary desert planet. Perhaps our information is outdated.”
Y3-Ns interfaced with the ship’s computer again and said “I’m sorry, sir, but according to all indications, this is indeed Phelene, Republic metropolitic planet. Perhaps there is an explanation.”
“One you can’t give us just yet?”
The droid seemed embarrassed that he couldn’t function to suit his hosts’ needs. “No sir. Our data on outer rim worlds is scant, as a rule... The little information we have on the planet is far greater than that of most planets this deep in space, and that is only because this is a large center of trade.”
“Trade?” Magnus looked and said “I see no in or outgoing ships. We appear to be the only bird in the sky.”
“Yes sir,” Y3 said. “I am unsure of what this could mean, but the coordinates are constant in that this is Phelene.”
The Indelible came down into the upper atmosphere and the group looked on the landscape. The planet had no outstanding topography- that is, it seemed perfectly round… and desertlike. Tan-orange ground extended from horizon to semicircular horizon, unbroken by mountains or chasms… or cities. Only small hemispherical glass and steel huts glinted in the sunlight, far below, each a half kilometer from the other. They dotted the land for as far as the eye could see.
“Perhaps there was a battle,” Mikau suggested.
“Negative,” Magnus replied. “Look, there are no scorch marks, no rubble… just huts. There’s been no fight, but apparently there’s no city, either.”
The pilot said “No landing beacon, either. Whatever this place is, it’s not equipped for interstellar trade, I’ll tell you that much.”
Y3 huffed defensively. “The instruments and coordinates are all correct. I can only…”
Magnus waved off the discussion. “It doesn’t matter, we really have nowhere else to go at the moment. Maybe we can fix the ship once on the ground. Put her down anywhere, captain.”
The Indelible landed gently on the dry ground, and a cloud of dust puffed over them and settled as the engines idled.
“The instruments say that the atmosphere’s breathable,” the pilot said. He glanced at Y3-Ns. “Let’s hope at least that much is correct.” He thumbed the button for the ramp door, and it opened.
The Jedi, Jaren Creel, and Y3-Ns walked outside of the ship and stood staring around at the landscape. The air was hot and dry and the sun beat down on them. Pock shielded his eyes from the glare and looked about. He asked “What are those little dome-things?”
The igloo-like domes that lay over the landscape in a gridlike pattern were no less odd from the ground. They were glass half-spheres, and the insides were worked with bits of steel, layered in a clockwork fashion. There was no sign of life anywhere.
“I don’t know, Pock,” Magnus said. “Don’t go near them. Y3, what do you think of the damage?”
The droid had been looking up at the claw marks in the hull. “Hmm? What do I think?”
“Yeah, what do you think about it?”
The droid seemed confused about Magnus’ question, and he answered the inquiry as plainly as he could. “I, err… I believe it was caused when the monster attacked the ship.”
“I know that,” Magnus said, almost impatiently. “Do you think you can fix it?”
“Oh, gracious me, no,” Y3 said immediately. “I’m programmed for minor computer recoding, internal rewiring, interfacing… small things. This is hull damage. I’m afraid I’m just not equipped to handle such a task.”
Creel sighed. “We’re going to need a repair team. Let’s go investigate these huts, maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Mikau Me walked gracefully to one of the huts and examined it. “I say,” he called, “it appears there is a door in the side of the construct, and a panel to operate it. I wonder if…” He reached for the panel with a slender white hand and before he could touch it the door hissed open. The kaminoan straightened himself. “Oh my.”
Inside the hut was an odd creature. Its body was a brown, furry pill-shape. From the sides, two swirling green tentacles moved about. It had one tentacle coming from its lower half, and on this it stood. It had a beanlike head extending from the top of the body, and in the face was set four eyes and a three-lipped mouth. The eyes blinked excitedly- two vertically, and then the others horizontally. It spoke.
The sound was a rude torrent of snorting noises and wet smacks. Mikau Me had never heard this language and did his best to appear friendly to the creature. “Pardon me, sir, but do you speak Basic?”
The thing snorted and writhed its arms.
“I see,” Mikau said, at a loss.
Jaren nudged Y3-Ns and said “Hey, are you one of them droids that speaks three hundred million forms of communication?”
“Why, no, sir. I’m afraid I am only fluent in three million two hundred thousand nine hundred and seventeen languages. A failing on my part… I’m mostly programmed for shipboard protocol. I do believe, however, that the Pheleeni is speaking a broken dialect of Ghenan, which I am familiar with.”
“Get to it, then,”
The droid wobbled over stiffly to the hut, where the creature and Mikau stood staring at each other.
Y3 snorted some form of greeting. The Pheleeni snorted back, and the two spoke briefly. The droid turned to Mikau and said “I believe he says his name is Pontu Forto, and he is pleased to see us.”
“This is good. Extend our greetings from the heart of the Republic.”
The droid did that. When the Pheleeni was done responding, Y3 translated. “He seems to insist that though he is ‘joyful of Republic’, we should not be here.”
Mikau thought about that for a moment. “Why not?”
The answer came back after a moment. “He says that it is ‘make no time’, which I take to mean that we shouldn’t be here just now. He says that ‘near time great…’ I’m fairly certain he’s saying precipitation here. Rain.”
“Rain?” Mikau looked upwards. Only two small clouds hovered in the perfect blue sky, like tiny puffs of smoke. They seemed to be dwindling. “I beg your pardon, Y3, but those clouds could never condense enough moisture to rain. I hail from a rain-soaked planet, where the oceans toss and heave, fed by the constant torrents. This is a desert.”
“Yes sir, I noted that as well. Still, mister Forto seems to be stating that it will rain soon, and that this is somehow a problem.”
The droid and the Pheleeni spoke again. Y3 said “He tells us we can ‘yes ship make’, or that we can repair the ship. We can do it soon, apparently, but we cannot do it now. ‘Make no time, though ship make time near’.”
Mikau related the conversation with the others. No matter how ridiculous it might seem to fear impending rain under clear skies, the two Jedi Knights thought it best to obey the local’s counsel. The pilot volunteered to take the Indelible offplanet until after it had rained. Magnus was given a ground-to-orbit comlink, and the ship lifted up into the sky.
Y3 said “Our host graciously says that we should ‘make go under’, or go inside the hut with him now. I don’t believe he thinks it safe out here.”
The sky was now perfectly clear.
The group walked into the hut with the alien and the door closed behind them. Inside it was cramped and the sun acted like on the hut like a greenhouse. It was uncomfortably warm within, but the Pheleeni didn’t seem to mind. The humans and the kaminoan, however, began to perspire.
After a time, Jaren grew impatient of waiting. “Our friend here said soon we could get the ship fixed, is that right? What’s the holdup?”
Before Y3 had a chance to ask the Pheleeni, the comlink crackled.
“Indelible to ground, Indelible to ground…” the pilot’s voice said, nervous and fuzzed by static. “We’ve got a problem.”
Several kilometers above the surface, the ship had broken through the blue of Phelene’s ozone and was emerging into the dark space of the planet’s orbit, dwarfed by the immense Separatist ship waiting there.
More to come…