The final document to receive a signature from Obas Tekki before the collapse of the Grothak Industries skyscraper in Vor was a manifest approving the transfer of a shipment of various electronic finished goods via cargo tube to a distribution firm in Ope'mot.
Dozens of small crates had been loaded into a larger cargo container in the warehouse facility in Vor's industrial district. Minutes before the tower fell, that container had been hefted by crane atop a heavy-duty hovertruck.
Word of the building's destruction reached the truck driver as he whirred to a stop at the tube nexus on the northern outskirts of the city. He handed the datapad with the manifest to the nexus overseer. The Llivori overseer ordered his crew to check the contents of the cargo container before it could be unloaded and placed on the belt to await placement in the massive pipeline that would ship it east toward the Opodian nation.
"All right," Ribas said, watching from around the corner a low maintenance building as a crane swivel with the cargo container dangling from several large chains. The container settled on the belt with a soft thud. The crew detached the chains from the anchor points on the container, then scrambled down from the conveyor to handle the next shipment. "That's our cue."
Zazal clutched the cloth-wrapped Kamir artifact as he followed Ribas and Vard toward the belt, which was elevated about fifteen feet above the ground. The Lotorian didn't give it much thought. He sprang through the air, coiled his tail around one of the support beams, and came down in a soft landing next to the crate. He reached a paw down to lend assistance to the tubby Llivori. Then, in turn, Ribas helped the Medlidikke pirate up onto the belt.
The access door for the cargo container had been locked and chained. Vard adjusted the setting on his trident, tapped the sparking element against the lock, and watched with smug satisfaction as the chain fell away with the ruined lock.
A few minutes later, the trio sat in the relative darkness of the stuffy cargo container waiting for their turn in the tube.
"Ever made this ride before?" Vard asked the Llivori.
Ribas chuckled, then spoke in Llivorese. Zazal translated: "Yes, a few times. My compatriots find it a convenient method of moving between nations for their activities."
Zazal tilted his snout, ears twitching. "So, how do you know that we won't be captured on the other end? The containers were inspected prior to shipping. Won't they be inspected after arrival?"
"Oh, that's a risk, yes," Ribas replied. "We're going to have to move quickly after the container reaches Ope'mot. Their crew will conduct an inspection, but we may have a window of about two minutes to crawl out before they discover us."
"Why do we need to rush?" the pirate asked, holding up the sparking trident atop the stump of his left arm. "Seems to me, we can make all the time we need. Wait for the inspectors and take them out."
The Llivori clacked his fangs together. "It is an option. I don't oppose it. Sometimes, innocents must die for the good of the cause."
"The cause?" Zazal hissed. "We're stealing back a ship that you gave a vulgar name in the hopes of making the Opodians mad. How important is it that innocents die for THAT cause?"
"Easy, Zazal," Vard said, shaking his head with a sigh. The last thing he needed was a fistfight between this pair of furballs. He wasn't sure which one would emerge victorious, but he surely didn't want to get caught in the middle. If he did, the trident was putting one or both of the combatants out of commission for a while. "I suppose you're right, though. If it would make you happier, I will eliminate the inspectors only as a last resort."
Ribas frowned, grunting. "Your Lotorian pet knows how to suck the fun out of what should be an enjoyable heist."
Zazal didn't translate that for Vard, but snarled back in Llivorese: "I'm not a pet! We have an agreement. I am part of his crew."
"What are you two going on about?" Vard asked. The spark of his trident gave flickering illumination to the interior of the container every few seconds.
"Nothing," Zazal said in Hekayan, still eyeing the Llivori in the shadows of the cargo container. Simply correcting a misunderstanding on your friend's part."
They felt the container shift as it began to move forward along the belt toward the cargo tube nexus. "Won't be long now," Ribas said. "Mind the higher crates in here. Watch your head."
Zazal translated the warning for Vard, then braced himself as the container stopped after making a turn into the nexus staging node. The cargo container moved off the belt and then onto a solid metal platform. Zazal heard a propulsion plate thunk against the side of the container behind him. A loud FOOMP! noise preceded the sudden acceleration of the container down the pipeline, starting its whooshing route toward Ope'mot. The crates on either side of Zazal shifted slightly, but did not tumble.
"Now we wait," Ribas informed his companions. "The trip takes about two hours. I like to nap through it. Feels like time traveling."
Vard shook his head. "I'm not sleeping."
Zazal crossed his arms, raising his snout proudly. "Neither am I."
"Suit yourselves," the Llivori replied with a grunt. He settled back into his niche inside the cargo container. "Try to keep the noise down." Within a few minutes, the only noise beyond their breathing and the vigorous thrum of the container as it sped down the tube was the thunderous snoring of Ribas Salek.
"You don't like him very much," Vard noted in Hekayan.
Zazal shrugged. "I do not know him all that well. But I did not appreciate some things he said."
"Llivori are a special kind of crazy," the Medlidikke said. "Not as special as Opodians, though. I really wouldn't weep too much for the inspectors in Ope'mot if I have to eliminate some of them. They run around the galaxy, spouting their crazy Kamir worship nonsense, putting the wrong ideas in people's heads."
"How did you meet him?" the Lotorian asked.
Vard smirked. "Ribas? That's a long but interesting story."
"We have at least a couple of hours, if his estimate is accurate," Zazal said.
"True," the pirate agreed. "Fine. The first time I met Ribas Salek, he was a cargo handler aboard a freighter called the Vor Exchanger. It was my blooding. That's the first job for a fledgling Medlidikke. Just out of the Ledelkrig with Yurok, I was. My new commander, an old one-eyed tough named Gorthal, made us brigands aboard his ship, the Starn. The Starn disabled the Vor Exchanger. Gorthal sent us aboard with the rest of the brigands. He wanted us to kill everyone aboard and confiscate the cargo. Then we had orders to blow the ship, of course. We're Medlidikke." He frowned. "Anyway, I made my way down to the cargo hold. Gunned down several crew who tried to put up a fight. That didn't bother me. People who try to be heroes, protecting boxes full of geegaws, they deserve to die." He jerked a thumb toward the snoring Llivori. "Found him in the cargo hold, hiding under the racks, shaking like the last leaf in a winter storm. I thought he had the right idea. He begged me not to kill him. Said he knew people that might prove useful to the Medlidikke someday. I let him be. We offloaded the cargo. I made sure Ribas got onto an escape pod and saw that he launched, then I set the charges for detonation. So, I could have killed him, but I didn't. I let him live. We've been in frequent contact ever since. That choice has made me a lot of money over the years."
"So, he's a coward," Zazal observed.
"Only an idiot wouldn't be afraid when the Medlidikke come calling," Vard said, arching his eyebrows. "I know you were scared."
The Lotorian's mouth fell open, fangs glistening in the flickering glow of the pirate's electrified trident. "Me? No! I had the presence of mind to tell you what those minions of yours had planned!"
Vard shrugged. "You gambled. That doesn't make you brave. It makes you practical. Fear motivated the gamble."
Zazal was about to offer a rebuttal when something heavy slammed into the cargo container from the opposite direction, clipping the corner behind and to the right of the slumbering Llivori. Another shipment, no doubt, inbound from Ope'mot to Vor after being fired west without taking into account arriving shipments coming to the east. The impact set the large container spinning counterclockwise. Wind whistled through a rend in the metal.
Ribas bolted upright from a snortling sleep, looking around with a panicked gleam in his black eyes. "Bad news that!" He lunged over to more closely inspect the tear in the material of the cargo container. "It's a seam break. Yeah, that's troublesome." The container continued spinning, then clanged against one of the internal support buttresses for the cargo tube. The rip in the metal got larger from the stress of the impact and the sudden shift to a clockwise rotation. "We get a few more hits like that, we'll arrive in Ope'mot in a shrapnel stew."
"What can we do?" Vard asked.
"Not much," the Llivori replied. "This big box doesn't have a steering wheel and it doesn't have brakes."
Zazal opened his mouth to speak, but then the cargo container wobbled as it struck another buttress. Now it bounced up and down as it spun counterclockwise. A deep groan shuddered through the container as it continued the process of tearing itself apart. Then he felt cool air on his - skin? - and found himself in a lit chamber that wasn't, in fact, in jeopardy of shredding into lots of little bits and pieces. He was looking down at a runed Kamir cylinder, half wrapped in cloth on a countertop.
Then he was jarred back to the dying cargo container by another punch to the snout from Vard Bokren. The blow sent him sprawling backward, eyes rolling. He bounced back up, shouting at the Medlidikke: "Why?!"
"I told you to hold it together!" Vard growled. "You went all blank on me with your mouth hanging open like some kind of idiot!"
"Oh," Zazal said. "Sorry." He rubbed at his snout, then said: "We don't have steering or brakes, but we do have escape pods."
Ribas furrowed his brow. "You're crazy."
The Lotorian shook his head. He pulled down a box that was about the size of a Hekayti coffin. "You climb into this, Vard, and I'll shove you out the door. It has to improve your chances to survive."
"He's crazy," the Llivori reiterated, barking loudly at Vard. He pointed at the crate and shook his head vehemently.
"Ribas doesn't like this plan, Zazal," the pirate noted.
Zazal didn't care. He was busy pulling datapads from the opened crate. "He can stay if he wants."
"There's one detail of your plan that I'm a little worried about myself," Vard said.
"What's that?"
"Let's say you convince Ribas to go along with it. You push me out. You push Ribas out. Who pushes you out?"
"No one," Zazal admitted. "I get into a box and ride it out until the container blows. I hope the smaller box holds together long enough to join you in Ope'mot."
Vard lifted his chin, eyeing the Lotorian suspiciously. "You're crazy." A smirk. "I knew there was some reason I liked you."