SmartSoil™
Posted on Wed Jul 17th, 2019 @ 7:55pm by Bomoor Thort & Thane & Amare
5,084 words; about a 25 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter V: Unbound
Location: Hoolo Valley, Üssina, Öetrago
Timeline: Late morning after "Dinner at Mumin's"
OLD
“They call themselves Sharlissian Trade Solutions, or SharTrad,” Mumin replied.
“Sharlissian?” Thort echoed quizzically, “But that trade route serves the other side of the sector. Why would a Sharlissian-based trade company have any interest in an Öetragan start-up project?”
Jiljoo piped up, “Zey’ wouldn’t. It is just further proof zat’ the project is not what zey’ are interested in.”
“I wouldn’t say anything is ‘proven’ yet,” Bruta warned the eager young Twi’lek, “But I do suspect we will find more than just researchers if we start digging.”
He took a deep sip of his food, enjoying the flavoursome bugs and vegetables, “Then let us prepare for our trip to the Elchum herd. Everyone rest up and Yllib and I can look at the best route in the morning.”
Mumin seemed very pleased as she looked across the assembled group, “Thank you everyone. I will dedicate myself to finding Bomoor while you are away. As he would say: ‘May the Force guide us all!’”
NEW
Heavy shadows cast down upon the buildings dotted in the basin of the Hoolo Valley. The long, metallic Smart Soil complex and surrounding smaller warehouses and residences stood out against the lush greenery of the fertile land. The site had originally been chosen because of the particularly rich soil in the area, fed by the healthy river that formed the base of the valley.
Bruta Thort and his team of amateur infiltrators were assembled across the river from the site, about halfway up the slope of the valley. Through a compact pair of electrobinoculars, Bruta could see a small transport shuttle docked at a raised landing platform, which was a rare site to see out here in the more-rural areas of Öetrago, but he supposed that this was a recent addition by the company’s new majority owners: the off-world company, Sharlissian Trade Solutions.
Panning down to the ground, he saw several Ithorians happily carrying heavy boxes and loading the cargo lift up to the platform. A twinge of concern shot through the Öetragan politician as he considered that many of the workers would likely still be under the impression they were working for an ethical and ecologically-aware organisation. It would be hard to derive friend from foe on this assignment.
“What do you see?” Jiljoo sidled up beside Bruta, allowing her partially-prosthetic lek to brush against his hand. She appeared to sense this contact and shuffled over slightly, confirming that her prosthetic replacement still contained some sensory ability.
“Well, so far everything seems fairly normal,” Bruta answered, handing over the electrobinoculars to her, sensing that his descriptions would not be satisfactory, “Although it is quite a big site for what should still be a small start-up business, but that is almost certainly the result of SharTrad’s investment. There is unlikely to be anything suspicious in the warehouses; we need to get to where the Research and Development is happening if we want to find any M’s Aid data that shouldn’t be here.”
“Zat’ big building iz’ probably where we av’ to go,” Jiljoo suggested, “I don’t recognise any of ze’ workers down zere’. I was ‘oping to see a friendly face.”
Beside the talking pair, having kept his bumbling modesty contained with Jiljoo so close to him, was Yllib-Senob, his oversized nautical spyglass firmly planted against one open eye. He was still able to speak quite unimpeded, however, courtesy of his irregular cranial configurement.
"This must be quite the change in work, Mister Bruta," he said, not peeling his eye away from his target (although his positioning seemed a good few inches off from the SharTrad complex). "I bet you never though you'd be skulking about and spyin' on your fellow herdfolk and dastardly corporations, eh?" The cheerful Ongree then seemed to realise he was becoming too familiar with the elder Thort, and withdrew a little, dropping the spyglass to offer an apologetic and embarrassed look. "If you don't mind my saying, that is."
“It’s quite alright Mr Senob,” Bruta acknowledged the Ongree’s discomfort, while still trying to work out a plan in his head, “We are not all born as one thing: we must be willing to adapt and change or we will be swept away as the world changes around us. Now, Jiljoo is right, we must get someone into that main complex but, from what I understand, all these researchers are young university graduates. I may be a good talker, but I have never been great at talking tech with the kids. That’s why I always have…”
He turned around slowly, raising an eye stalk at his young, university-graduate assistant, “Llim, you did your dissertation on Ecological Conservation in urban something or other. Graduated top of your class from MCU, did you not?”
Llim nodded, leaving out the fact that he was tied for the top spot with a female of his class, agreeing to let her have top honours in hopes of scoring a date with her by showing her kindness; she instead turned him down in favour of a burly civil engineering major who graduated near the bottom of the class.
"Urban Communities and Self-sustaining Arcological Constructs," Llim finished for Mr. Thort. "The committee called it...'hypnotic' in a scientifically intriguing sort of way. I'm still not sure to this day what that really means, but I carry copies if you need to read it."
“Yes, yes,” Bruta waved his hand in the air, “That’s the one. My point is, you are fresh out of education, like a lot of the researchers here. If anyone is going to pass as one of them, it would be you. I know it may seem a bit out of your depth, but perhaps if Jiljoo and yourself went down there and found a couple of lab coats, you could talk your way in…”
Jiljoo seemed enthusiastic about the plan, “Oh, yes! I know a zing’ or two about designing ecological machinery. Zat’ iz’ what I av’ done my whole life. Be bold, Llim, we can do it togezer’!”
Umm...uhhh...I-I-uhh," Llim stammered bashfully as his big beady eyes met Jiljoo's enthusiastic smile. Oh no... he thought. I can't say no when she's looking at me like that. Oh no no no no no... "Alright..." he relented with a heavy sigh in stereo. But I have a bad feeling about this, he added in his worried mind.
“Thank you, my friend,” Bruta was honestly relieved to see Llim rise up in this time of need, even though he knew it was well outside his comfort zone, “Then that leaves Mr Senob and myself to investigate elsewhere. Perhaps we will find something suspicious in their shipping manifests, if they are indeed dealing in M’s Aid secrets. Yllib, perhaps you can help me talk to some of the workmen down there. You’ve probably dealt with dockworkers and the like in your line of work, if you don’t mind me saying.”
"M-me, sir?" Yllib-Senob questioned, withdrawing his eyeglass as his eyes widened. He awkwardly tipped his hat and began fumbling with his chin-cum-cranium. "Well, uhh, yes. Certainly! I've had some dealings them and their like since comin' to your fair planet. I'm... I'm not much of an actor, though, truth be told." He stopped playing with his hat, but only after taking a few extra seconds to properly perch it. "What do you have in mind?"
With a heavy thud upon the cargo lift, a particularly large Ithorian male dumped a shipping container ready for departure offworld. He signalled up to someone on the platform at the top before stepping back and watching the lift rise. He used this brief moment of respite to pull out a small food bar from his pocket, which he began munching on through one of his two mouths.
It had been a busy afternoon, particularly with the higher-ups squeezing in an extra shuttle arrival before the end of his shift. He didn’t particularly care much for the work, but he was well-suited for it and this particular employer was offering good wages for short-contract employment, so he was not too begrudging, but did not feel he owed his SharTrad superiors anything. He certainly did not care to pay too much attention to two strangers approaching from around the back of the warehouse.
“Excuse me,” asked the tidy-looking Ithorian, who approached, alongside a jittery Ongree dressed in strange clothing that looked like something only actors on the HoloNet would wear, “My friend and I are looking for the foreman’s office. We wanted to ask about some warehouse work with SharTrad.”
"Yes!" Yllib-Senob added with faux mirth, bouncing a little as he spoke, a finger raised in the air. "We are seeking gainful employment with your, uhh, reputable firm!"
“We ain’t got a foreman here,” the Ithorian workman, spoke between munches of his food bar, able to talk and chew with the help of his second mouth, “All our duties are assigned by some droid. Don’t think it does the hirin’ though; I got the work through the union. Still, if you want to talk to the bleep-bloop, you can find it up there in the break room.”
He motioned to the upper level of the warehouse, where wide windows looked out over the landing platform just above.
"Mar-marvellous!" The Ongree announced in response, his forced jubilation a little too over-the-top, his voice breaking slightly with the concern that accompanied the exuberant sailor's little act. "And here is a little somethin' for yer troubles!" Not considering whether it was an appropriate act for a down-on-their-luck job-seeker or not, Yllib thrust a small-denomination credit chit into the Ithorian's hand and stepped quickly past, wringing his hands secretly in concern as he slid by with Bruta.
The workman took the credits with his free hand but was clearly confused by the little exchange, “Uh, cheers,” he grunted, before shovelling down the last bite of his food bar, “See you around.”
He eyed the pair suspiciously as they plodded off and up the stairway to the office. Even with his level of general disinterest, the worker had sensed the pair were off and were clearly not quite who they said they were. But he didn’t have the patience for sending off some report so he simply took a long inhale of the cool night air and set off for the next warehouse on his list.
Bruta and Yllib had made their way to the break room and found a few workers of various species all milling around. Little conversation was being made; most seemed to be on the edge of sleep or already sleeping. The droid they were seeking was across the far side of the room, next to a drinks dispenser. It was some kind of older K30 protocol droid that seemed to be struggling in negotiating with some business with an Aqualish.
“Okay, let’s go talk to that droid,” Bruta spoke quietly to his Ongree partner as they slowly made their way over, “I doubt it will give up any information willingly. You don’t happen to know anything about slicing droids, do you?”
Yllib-Senob gave Bruta a slightly incredulous look that bordered on bafflement, and was just a twitch away from bemusement - not that the kindly Ongree would take such a facial tone with his new well-to-do friend. "Mister Bruta, if I had any such tradeable technical skill of that calibre, I prob'ly wouldn't be wearing this here fine hat of mine, don't you think?"
He peered over Bruta's shoulder - more of an effort for him, given the Ithorian's height and his own facial structure - to examine the ageing droid and the aggressive, unintelligible barking of the Ualaq Aqualish, and quickly slinked back down when he noticed the K30's head tilt on its axis towards him. Without saying a word, apparently fearful of being overheard, Yllib-Senob made a gesture with his hands of twist his closed hand around his other hand's thumb and then pulling. He let out an amusing little popping sound as he made the pulling motion.
“Ah, yes,” Bruta strangely understood the gesture that suggested they remove the droid’s head for later analysis, partly as he had been thinking it himself, “That does seem more our style. But I doubt such a ‘delicate’ procedure could be performed without attracting too much attention. Do you think perhaps you could be the distraction, if I do the ‘head popping’?”
"D-distraction, Mister Bruta?" Yllib-Senob repeated, slightly alarmed. An audible gulp resonated from his neck before the Ongree began rotating his shoulders, mentally preparing himself for his grand performance. "As I said before; I ain't much of an actor - but I do know a thing or two about distracting bored deckhands!"
He bustled past the Ithorian and shuffled atop a table at the centre of the room, dislodging a plate of stale crackers that one of the workers had been happily munching on just before. Ahead of any curses that could be loosed his way, though, Yllib spoke in a raised voice to those gathered.
"This here place in lacking in some soul, don'tcha fellas think?" He declared merrily, although he made a few slightly-obvious glances in Bruta's direction as he spoke. "Them SharTrad bastards think they can keep us working types down, swilling their emerald wines in their ivory moonbases." The gathered workforce was now entirely fixated on the ridiculous display being offered by the Ongree, even if a lot of them wore disinterested or irritated expressions. "Well, I used to work the ol' GW hauls out on the Rakele IV run (before that rancor incident), and we had an ancient space shanty we liked to singalong to. Y'know, to keep the spirits up on those cold, vacuum-riddled nights. I'm sure you guys'll recognise it, so jump in when you can. It went a little somefing like this..."
Before anyone could object or interject at the strange newcomer's tabletop display, Yllib-Senob summoned his loudest and most lyrical voice, his tongue waggling extravagantly as he sang his song.
"Ohhhhh what shall we do with a drunken spacer?
What shall we do with a drunken spacer?
What shall we do with a drunken spacer?
Halfway to the Rim!
Put him in the brig with the Gran nerf herder,
Put him in the brig with the Gran nerf herder,
Put him in the brig with the Gran nerf herder,
Halfway to the Rim!"
Bruta was momentarily stunned at the scale of the distraction his Ongree accomplice had set about performing, but it had drawn all the attention in the room, including the Aqualish who had been drawn away from his conversation with the administrative droid and was now chuckling and nudging his way into the crowd forming around Yllib’s performance table.
“Mulrusleesh,” Bruta chuckled under his breath, an Ithorian saying roughly translated as ‘Brilliant fool’.
He skirted around the edge of the breakroom until he found himself beside the droid who was staring blankly at the display, clearly unfamiliar with the level of joviality, unseen in this corporate facility. Over the clapping and discussion accompanying the shanty, Bruta had no trouble in wrenching the droid down to the ground and, with a firm stomp, crunching the connecting joints in the droid’s neck, causing the head to come away from the body.
The sea shanty continued, with Yllib sparing the odd glance over towards Bruta as he added another verse.
"Ohhhhh what shall we do with a drunken spacer?
What shall we do with a drunken spacer?
What shall we do with a drunken spacer?
Halfway to the Rim!
Hey ho and run the blockade,
Hey ho and run the blockade,
Hey ho and run the blockade,
Halfway to the Rim!"
Dump the spice when the Imps come callin',
Dump the spice when the Imps come callin',
Dump the spice when the Imps come callin',
Watch out for them Hutts!
Bruta hurriedly shoved the lifeless droid’s body into a cupboard under the breakroom sink before picking up the head, which he hoped was where the memory core was held, before shuffling back around to the exit.
He then gestured his long fingers in the air to summon the Ongree singer back, if he could manage to escape after such a performance.
Yllib just about spotted Bruta's gesture over the growing revelry of the gathered group, his space shanty having summoned a larger crowd that had been anticipated, and more than a few seemed to know the ancient song. With so many of them now singing along - often different verses from one another, however - it was easy enough for the Ongree to do a poor dance/sidle away from the cluster of workers and back over to his Ithorian companion.
Sweat was beading on the orange-skinned man's head, forcing him to tip off his tricorn to wipe it away with a dirty sleeve. "I can't believe that worked so good, Mister Bruta!" He said half-nervously, half-jubilantly, his voice partly drowned out by the ongoing singing behind them.
Neither did I, thought Bruta, but instead opting for the more complimentary, “I didn’t doubt you for a moment!”
He ushered the pair of them out of the office and down the steps, hoping to get off SharTrad property as soon as possible, “Say, that was a pretty ancient song, wasn’t it? I think I have only heard that on old history dramas about spacers evading the ‘Old Empire’. How did you know that so many would know the words?”
"Oh, I'm sure you know how it is, sir," Yllib replied in an effort to be nonchalant, kicking at the ground slightly as he spoke. "Folk of a certain standing, of certain, uhh, professional persuasions... we may not know a great deal about galactic economics or debating philosophy-like, but we know where we come from!" The Ongree looked back up towards where the workers were still chorusing his old shanty, a slightly solemn longing expression hidden behind his bashful deference. "There ain't no one ever gonna take that from us. Some people forget. But we don't, Mister Bruta. We don't."
“Well we certainly look ‘ze part!” Jiljoo chuckled as she tucked her lekku over the back of the clean, white lab coats they had acquired after sneaking past the sleepy reception area of the research lab. While it looked like the front of a very successful business, with an expensive looking waiting area and conference room, it did not appear these facilities were in use at all. Either the SmartSoil project had proven far less appealing to outside attention than predicted, or SharTrad had made sure that such attention was placed on hold, while their plans were taking place.
The pair of imposter researchers were admiring their new attire in a locker room for the staff, which was as strangely empty as the reception area.
The Twi’lek continued, “I am sure we will be able to get in looking like ‘ziz. If not, I am sure I can slice us a door open.”
Her reluctant Ithorian cohort, Llim, felt like the coat was doing its best to insist on being a bit too snug for his liking, but he couldn't argue with how it made all those years of academic research feel justified. It felt good. It felt right. He started to wonder if they were hiring, but then blinked at his reflected image and remembered why he was here.
"Just so you know," he remarked to his perky Twi'lek friend, reaching nervously behind him with one hand to scratch the back of his hump, "I'm...uhh, not really a--um, what you'd call a...'people person'. Maybe you should do the talking if we run into anyone asking questions."
“I thought you were ze’ one with ze’ words,” Jiljoo queried, “Your essay on zat’ urban sustainability must av’ a fair few words in it, no?”
She paused for a moment before smiling again, always the optimist in spite of the rough start she had received in life, “Don’t worry, Llim. I always come prepared to throw a few punches if needed. You should see ze’ Ithorian men when zey’ av’ ad’ a few drinks; zey’ need someone to show zem’ who’s boss! But let’s just find our way in first.”
After sneaking back out and towards the main labs, their first road block was a locked door with a passkey door. Jiljoo took a moment to examine it before grinning.
“A very basic lock,” she announced to Llim, “I av’ fitted a few of zeze’ myself. It iz’ not linked to an alarm so we just need to demagnetize the locking mechanism and we are in!”
She rooted around in the little waist pack she still had on under the white lab coat and pulled out a thin chip-like device, just slightly thinner than a standard credit chip as well as a flat screwdriver. She levered open the lock panel just slightly and then inserted the chip, wiggling it back and forth slightly until a faint clicking was heard and the door drifted open as if caught on a gentle breeze.
“Easy peasy!” Jiljoo grinned.
They slid through the door and walked deeper in: passing an inner greenhouse-like room where several white-coated Ithorians were deeply engrossed in tending to plant samples. There were no computers in that room so they did not go in but instead carried on until they found themselves entering into a small office area with a few desks and, most-importantly, computer terminals.
“Here we go!” Jiljoo elbowed Llim lightly, “Perhaps we can find evidence here zat’ SharTrad iz’ collecting more zan’ just its own research.”
Llim started poking at the keys on one of the closest terminals and saw the last logged in account name on the screen as "Bioassay One". The book-smart Ithorian recognized bioassay as a method that determined the potency of a chemical by its observed effect on living organisms. Unfortunately, the terminal was password locked. In his early university years, Llim worked a part-time job in information systems to make ends meet, and one thing he learned was how often people left passwords near the terminals they worked on. Sure enough, he found a datapad in the desk drawer that had what he needed.
"MynockP@ssingThru13," he slowly said the password aloud as he typed it in. At least it had a little more thought than common favourites like P@ssw0rd or Iluvyou. "That was easy," he said pleased with himself as he logged in and started browsing the files. It was a relief because he had no idea how to slice computers.
Jiljoo came over and looked at the computer, “Good work Llim,” she grinned, before starting to tap some commands into the console, “Let us see…”
She ran a search on the main database for documents marked with ‘Mother’s Aid’ and very quickly found a large number of results. Most of the files were not incriminating, relating to publicly-available data and articles. She would have to narrow down her search if she wanted to find anything incriminating.
She did not get far, however, before the door slid open and a very tired looking Ithorian, wearing the same white coat they donned, stepped in. Working the late shift here seemed to have slowed his mind to the pace of his feet as he marched across the room, ignoring them, as he went over to pick up a datapad from a shelf. He looked at it for a moment before his brain caught up and he turned around with a quizzical look towards the two wide-eyed intruders.
He spoke in Ithorese, “Muulo keth?,” Who are you?
"Hm? (Who? Oh, well, you see...)," Llim replied in kind. "(...We're interns working on the day-shift. Yes, and...uhh, we're putting extra hours to finalize our chemical analysis reports. Trying to make a good impression. You understand, yes?)"
The weary scientist slowly shuffled his glassy eyes between the pair of them before replying, "Ildos? Krenthmar uumlo ildos moolbaar..." Interns? We haven't had interns in months...
As the dozy queries continued, Jiljoo slowly rotated back to the screen and began a more comprehensive search for the incriminating files that were bound to be present. A little blue bar began to creep across the screen and, after a few moments, some results began to appear. reaching into her pocket, the young Twi'lek engineer produced a datapad and slid it into the terminal receptacle. She would need a few more moments to transfer the files to the pad's storage.
"(Listen, I do not wish to be fired. I just...erm, we just started here a few days ago)," Llim tried to explain. He was improvising, but it felt similar to another blundering excuse her tried to give in his early academic days. Llim was a good student, but he wasn't exactly known for being punctual, and so had to do a lot of unorthodox things to make up for his faults to stay on track. "(Do you have any idea how long it took for us to prepare the data and double check...no, triple check the control and experimental values just to make sure we maintained a balanced pH level? Do you? If the numbers were off by just one micron...just one teeny tiny decimal place...) blamo!" He spread his hands out to pantomime an explosion and added in Basic, "We would have to trash the entire experiment and start over. Now, I know we don't want that, and you don't want, and the supervisor definitely doesn't that. So, would you be so kind as to shoo? We have work to do."
3... 2... 1... and done! The pad shot back out of the terminal and Jiljoo secreted it swiftly back out of sight. But it seemed that the Ithorian researcher had turned his attention to her activities at the terminal. He waved Llim aside and came over to the screen, which still held the search results in full view.
"Aloomo metch!" he exclaimed, This is classified!, "Ichu baana ildos; ichu baana escacho taals! Ica maaldo graanto...", You're not interns; you're corporate spies! I cannot let you...
Llim's hand was already reaching out for something to swat at the suspicious scientist before he could finish. His fingers clenched at something hard with some serious heft and swung it at his fellow Ithorian's face. Turned out to be a synthetic leather-bound employee's manual. It had an absurd amount of pages to it, enough to put even the Constitution of the Republic to shame. "Sorry!" Llim exclaimed, shocked at what he just did.
The researcher stumbled to one side and dropped his datapad, his heavy form drooped over for a moment, before losing stability completely and collapsing into a heap of white research coat and leathery brown skin upon the floor.
“Llim!” Jiljoo exclaimed, her mouth open in shock as she stared at the unconscious Ithorian, “Zat’ was amazing! He’s out cold!”
She grabbed his hand and motioned to the doorway, “Quickly, let’s get out of here!”
"B-b-but he's--!" Llim stammered, stunned and guilty over what he did. He never physically attacked anyone his whole life until now. Violence by his own hand was unthinkable, but he had to admit...it felt kinda good.
“He’ll be fine” the Twi’lek reassured him, “Now let’s go before someone finds him here!”
Back on the far side of the valley, the two infiltration groups found themselves once again. Panting and collecting themselves, the re-assembled party was pleased to see that all members were still accounted for.
Bruta addressed them all first, “I am glad we are all back safe,” he began before producing the droid’s head himself and Yllib had acquired, “I’m not quite sure how successful we were; this administrative droid hopefully can give us access to recent shipping manifests, if we can crack into it. How about you two?”
Jiljoo beamed as she replied, “We got a datapad full of details on Mother’s Aid, which should be useful. But what was really amazing, was that Llim knocked out a researcher that caught us!”
Bruta’s eyes widened and he looked at his assistant with disbelief, knowing the younger Ithorian’s more-reserved character, “Is this true Llim? What brought this on?”
Llim put a hand up to his flat broad face between his eyes and tilted his head down a bit in shame as he face-palmed. "I...didn't want to, but I had to do it. We were in big trouble. I'm truly sorry."
Bruta laid a comforting hand upon his assistant’s shoulder, “When you become part of a herd, part of a family, you learn that being Ithorian does not make us unable to fight. We fight the most passionately when those we care for are at risk. For you to have done this is a sign of real growth from you. I am sure whoever you knocked out will be just fine and we are just glad to have the two of you back safely.”
Yllib-Senob could not stop smiling at the younger Ithorian, partly out of amusement and partly with pride. He clapped a supportive hand on Llim's hump and laughed. "Glad to see yer finally getting into the spirit of things, Mister Llim!" He beamed, shaking his companion from where his hand was resting. "We'll make a pirate of you, yet!"
“Well then,” Bruta beamed with his eyes, which were like large glowing saucers in the moonlight, “I’d say that’s mission success team. Let’s get on back to the herd and see what we’ve found. I’m sure I can find a way to leak anything incriminating out to the right sources.”
With a swelling of pride and only mild concern at having just trespassed on private property, Bruta led his own mini-herd back along the valley to Senob’s boat. As the cool night air soothed him, he looked up at the stars and thought of Bomoor. He only wished his son could be part of this herd with him.
TBC
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