Shadows of the Hunt
Chapter 1
Lieutenant Hyram Drayson felt the churn in his stomach as the old battered ST-17 shuttle coasted over the desolate, craggy wastelands of Tatooine.
He winced inwardly, wondering if the antiquated boxy shuttle was actually on its final flight.
Looking about him, he saw the unconcerned expressions on the faces of the four other passengers.
Resigning himself to his fate, Lieutenant Drayson shifted in the worn bantha hide seat and tried to find a comfortable position. The worn die creaked beneath his weight and the odor of the interior flooded his nostrils with a combination of old passengers and various operating compounds. The shuttle jounced again and began a steady, if somewhat abrupt decent. The voice of the equally antiquated AP-7 Pilot Droid emanated from the speakers, barely understandable through the static.
"We have begun our decent into Veris. Please be seated and prepare for landing."
"Crash landing," Hyram thought to himself as he pulled his seat restraints a bit tighter about his waist. His eyes drifted again to gaze through the sand scratched transparasteel window. The ruins of an ancient, half buried temple complex surrounded by a spotting of smaller single dwellings and a few larger, more modern metallic structures. Most of them were simple, unmanned mineral extractors.
There were two exceptions. One moderate sized, mining office and a second, even larger, silvery building.
He noted the mass of various speeders and swoops clustered in the front of the building and people could be seen entering and exiting the structure. His view was abruptly obstructed when the shuttle turned sharply and settled down into the open roofed ceiling of the small shuttle port.
Hyram felt the jolt as the stabilizing struts slapped onto the mud brick pavers. He groaned again as he extricated himself from the narrow seat as quickly as he could.
As soon as he left the poorly filtered air of the shuttle and entered the blazing heat and wind of Tatooine's suns was like walking through a thermal wall. Instantly his mouth was filled with the taste of Tatooine's fine dusty air.
He rubbed his eyes and followed the other passengers out of the dock and onto the receiving platform.
The other four passengers dispersed and soon he was left standing next to an old, sand scarred Protocol Droid.
He looked about for a few moments, wondering where the promised transportation was, and then he stepped over to the protocol droid.
"I was supposed to have transportation arranged for me when I arrived?" he asked.
The droids response was polite and immediate.
"I'm sorry, sir. If you seek transportation, you must first purchase a voucher for the shuttle."
"Thanks" Hyram replied gruffly as he stepped back out to the front of the building.
He set his small duffle bag down on the dusty ground and folded his arms. After nearly a half an hour, he began to consider the possibility that his contact had been eliminated, when the sound of a speeder engine began to come from the distance. Following the sound, he spied the beaten form of an old land speeder coming towards the shuttle port. The wavy haze of the shape cleared and Hyram immediately recognized the model.
It was an old X-34, a standard, inexpensive model, used by moisture farmers and surveyors. The color might at one time have been red, but most of the paint had been sandblasted away, revealing the shining silver body beneath.
The vehicle wheeled away, vanishing behind a small cluster of buildings. It reappeared and wheeled smoothly around coming to a stop before him.
At the wheel sat a pale blue Twilek male dressed in simple traveler's clothes. The driver turned to stare at him with bright pale blue eyes.
"You look like you need a ride?" he asked, flashing a smile with pointed teeth. His voice was soft and baritone with a subtle hissing beneath the words, typical of Twileks.
"I'm meeting someone," Hyram replied neutrally. "Thanks anyway."
The Twilek shrugged. "Suit yourself. But the suns are going down, and it gets cold in the desert."
Hyram perked up. "The suns are going down" had been one of the code phrases he had been instructed to listen for.
"Still," he said, watching the Twilek carefully. "I hear the colors are quite amazing?"
The Twilek smiled again. "But not like the colors on Hoth." He replied.
"Quite correct," Hyram replied with a sigh.
The Twilek also relaxed slightly.
"Master Harkam Dyson?" he asked, using Hyram's alias.
Hyram nodded, picking up his duffle. "And you are?"
"Rykran," The Twilek replied. "Hop in."
Hyram tossed his duffle in the back of the speeder and climbed into the open topped vehicle.
"So," he asked. "Where are we going?"
Rykran said nothing as he pushed the throttle forward. "Later." Was all he said.
When the speeder slowed to a stop, Hyram's jaw dropped open. Their destination was the last place he would have wanted or expected. He looked up at the steps leading into Heavenly Bodies. The edifice might at one time have been a private mansion, or perhaps even a guild hall.
Now, however, it had apparently been transformed into a rather large and boisterous cantina.
"We're, " Hyram began, but Rykran merely gestured to the open entrance.
"Follow me, please."
Feeling a sense of dread beginning to knot in his belly, Hyram Drayson followed his guide up the steps and into the cantina.
When they came out of the narrow corridor, Hyram's jaw dropped. Heavenly Bodies was more a dancers club than a cantina.
Scantily clad entertainers of various species moved cheerfully between the comfortably appointed tables and chairs.
Rykran paused for a moment and smiled a toothy grin as he saw Hyram's expression.
Up on the stage, a tall, slender human dancer slowly peeled the outer layer of her clothing off, eliciting cheers from the rowdy crowd of prospectors gathered at the edge.
"I think there's been some kind of error," Hyram managed to stutter as he tore his gaze away from the young dancing girl.
Rykran's gaze and smile increased in amusement.
"This way, if you will?" He gestured to an adjoining corridor and led Hyram down this new hall.
The corridor ended in a small, and comfortably appointed waiting room.
"Make yourself comfortable, Mister Dyson" Rykran offered, indicating the plush chairs. "Can I get you a drink, sir?"
"No, thank you," Hyram replied, finally in control of himself after his experience in the main hall before.
Rykran nodded once and left.
Hyram found the seat that was as far away from the entrance and back against the wall. He seated himself and looked up and back at the stairs rising to the second story behind him. All the while, his sense of dread continued to grow.
He quickly reviewed his mission brief, running the details through his mind.
Arrive at Mos Eisley and take the shuttle to the Ruins of Veris. Contact will meet there, code phrases "It gets cold in the desert", "The colors are quite amazing", and "Not like the colors on Hoth," had all been used, as had been his new alias "Harkam Dyson".
He suddenly noted that the timetable had been limited only to his flight itinerary.
Meet with contact, identified only as J.D. and enlist for current operation, coded "DSX1".
Now, instead of the usual fast moving cloak and dagger that he was accustomed to, he was sitting in the waiting area, outside the office of, well, there was no other name for it, a Tatooine strip club.
After fifteen minutes of nervous anxiety, another Twilek, a dark skinned female this time, floated into the room. She smiled warmly and fixed him with her demonic red eyes.
"Mister Dyson?" she asked in a soft, husky voice.
Hyram tried to ignore the extremely revealing wrap of dark cloth that barely covered her slender body.
She paused, as if she were giving him a chance to take her seductive figure in completely.
"Uh, yes," he finally managed to stammer.
She smiled and gave a friendly nod. "Ienna Moneshi. Come in, please?"
She gestured towards the open doorway of the small office. Her every movement and gesture seemed to be a seduction.
Gulping down a sudden nervousness that had nothing to do with his current assignment, Hyram Drayson followed his darkly seductive hostess into a small, but finely appointed office.
Ienna removed a fine silk robe from a peg on the wall and slid her arms into the soft, smooth fabric. She tied the thin drawstring and folded herself into a fine chair behind a simple, curved glass top desk.
Hyram felt only a small sense of relief when she put the garment on. In spite of the fact that his hostess was now fully clothed, the memory of what he had just seen, along with the way the sheer fabric followed the flow of Ienna's form had not helped his distraction much.
Ienna picked up an old, battered data pad and keyed in a series of commands. There was a soft high pitched whine that rose beyond the capacity of his hearing.
"There," Ienna said easily. "We can now converse freely."
"I'm sorry?" Hyram asked cautiously. "I don't know what you mean?"
Ienna laughed quietly. "It's quite all right, Lieutenant Drayson." Her smile widened as she saw his expression. It was non committal, and yet, he had tensed ever so slightly.
"Yes," she reassured him. "I know who you are and I know why you have come." Her smile faded slightly. "Unfortunately, circumstances have dictated that you meet with me instead of your initial contact."
Any change should be treated as suspicious and you should divulge nothing without confirmation from command.
"Forgive me, Miss Moneshi," Hyram said evenly. "But I still don't know what you are talking about? I arrived here for a meeting with the Potulli Mining Company, regarding mineral rights in this area?"
Ienna smiled agreeably. "By stating your business, you have already allayed any of my concerns."
She reached back to the data pad and hit several more switches.
To his immediate left, the large colorful painting showing a gentle, flora filled landscape suddenly flashed in a flare of static, and then the image of General Carlest Reekan appeared within the fancy border.
"Ienna," The General said dryly. "I'm happy to find you clothed."
Ienna smiled at the jibe. "Always a pleasure, General."
Reekan's eyes turned towards Hyram. "Lieutenant Drayson, you seem a bit flustered?"
Hyram did his best to assume a mildly confused expression. He opened his mouth to speak and stopped. He was playing the part that his cover dictated, that of a simple businessman out of sorts.
"This is all very intriguing," he stammered. "However, I really-"
Reekan let his lips curl upwards only slightly behind his beard.
"Identity code Alpha Green, seven, nine, seven five, echo," Reekan recited dutifully. "Superior work in maintaining your cover, Lieutenant." He turned back to Ienna. "I assume that something has come up?"
"I'm afraid it has, General," Ienna replied. "Our operative is six hours overdue."
"There was a window in this operation," Reekan replied in a neutral tone. "There's still four hours left before we should begin to consider contingencies."
Ienna nodded soberly. Hyram could clearly see the concern etched on her exotic features.
"In the mean time, Lieutenant," General Reekan continued.
"Sir?" Hyram returned his gaze to the image.
"Proceed as instructed," Reekan ordered. "Miss Moneshi will be your primary contact until J.D. returns. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir," Hyram replied.
"Good luck," General Reekan concluded. This his steely gaze turned back to Ienna.
"Miss Moneshi. A pleasure, as always."
"Likewise," Ienna nodded, forcing a soft smile.
The image blinked out and once again, Hyram was staring at the serene painted landscape.
He turned back to Ienna and a smile touched the corners of his mouth.
"Very impressive," he said.
Ienna nodded. "I understand your need to maintain your cover, given the circumstances. Things have not been going smoothly these last months. Not since the Empire began cracking down on security issues in the Core."
"That part of what I wished to speak with you about," Hyram began, reaching for his duffle.
Ienna held up a hand to forestall him.
"If you please, Mister Dyson," she said quickly. I would prefer that the briefing be held in a more secure area." She pressed a button on the data pad and then rose.
"Follow me, please?" she offered her arm.
Hyram let her slide her slender arm around his elbow, and let her lead him back into the wild cacophony that was the main dance hall.
Try as he might, Hyram Drayson found that he was unable to keep from looking out at the various dancers moving about the place.
The tall, slender blonde dancer still writhed slowly to the music, her clothes completely gone. She caught the look from Ienna and gave a subtle nod.
"Stand, just here, Mister Dyson," Ienna said in his ear. "Just a moment."
Her eyes caught the attention of another dancer, a pale skinned Xabraxin with a golden hue to her skin and small horns protruding from her scalp on either side of a long flowing shock of dark thick hair. The Xabraxin smiled a smile that was filled with mischief and quickly slid up onto the stage next to the blonde.
"Ashlay and Kaylee," Ienna explained with a smile. "Very good at causing distractions."
The blonde human saw the dark haired Xabraxin moving up to join her on the stage, smiled, and shifted her position slightly.
The Xabraxin, Ashlay, Slid up in front of the naked Kaylee and the two moved in sensuous synchronicity for a moment.
Then Ashlay reached up with one hand, put a finger under Kaylee's chin, and kissed her passionately, full on the mouth.
Cheers and hoots erupted from the throng of spectators. Shoulders were slapped and gestured made, pulling all eyes to the new spectacle.
Ienna scanned the crowd, making certain that all eyes were averted.
"Now," she said, and she pulled Hyram backwards through a hanging tapestry and into a concealed turbo lift.
The door hissed shut and the lift descended.
"Very effective," Hyram finally said once he had cleared the lump from his throat.
Ienna laughed quietly. "As I said, they are quite effective at causing distractions."
The rain that fell was thick, like a mixture of oil and water. It flowed in streams down the ferrocrete walls and collected in dark, glistening pools on the ground around her as she stood, miserable in the shadows of the Corescant alley.
In dryer, more temperate climes, she would have been considered pretty, even beautiful by some standards. Her dark, matted, wet hair was usually a luxurious, fiery red, and would have framed the delicate features that it now masked in drowned stringy strands. She was of average height and athletic build, as outlined by the flow of the now drenched dark flight suit she wore.
It was not a rugged, fighter pilots suit. She preferred the lighter, less cumbersome traders' model of a more utilitarian design. This particular one, when dry would have been a deep maroon, now darker from the rain and the impurities that mixed with it in the city planet's dense industrial atmosphere.
The incessant droning noise of the rain made it nearly impossible to hear anyone approaching, and she scanned the surrounding shadows of the industrial complex with eyes that were too green to be entirely human, a by-product of the joining of her human mother with a Zabraxan father.
Aside from this unique peculiarity, her eyes were the only things that belied her true heritage, a heritage that she took pride in, despite Emperor Palpatine's doctrine of human purity.
Her eyes scanned the surroundings again and a slight feeling of unease began to crawl up her spine with a chill augmented by the damp conditions.
"Come on, Capee," she whispered aloud to the rain. "Where the hell are you two?"
She looked at her chrono again and sighed as much from the anxiety as the discomfort. Her contacts were fifteen minutes late, which was completely unlike them.
Bothans, as a rule, even those involved in espionage, were always on time. And her two most reliable contacts, Capee and Slight, were counted among the best even by Bothan standards. The fact that they were late did not bode well for this particular operation.
A flicker of movement from the end of the alley caught her attention. It was a subtle change in shadow and movement, too finite for human eyes to have seen. The small, humanoid form came around the corner at a quick jog. There was no stealth involved.
"Jellianna?" the soft female voice hissed urgently.
Jellianna stepped from her place of concealment and met the smaller Bothan half way down the alley.
"Capee!" she hissed.
Capee was a little less than a meter and a half in height and willowy in build, covered in thin, dark fur that, like Jellianna, was soaked through her black infiltration suit. Her ears flicked forward and then back in the direction she had come as she ran quickly to her friend and pressed a data card into her hand.
"Run," Capee growled in a voice that was near to panic. She had a wild, almost haunted look in her eyes.
"Cap!" Jellianna hissed. "What's wrong?" She glanced back down the dark alley and then back down at her friend.
"Capee? Where's Slight?"
The diminutive Bothan's wide eyes got even wider as the panic in them increased. Jellianna read the expression and knew. The revelation hit her like a proton torpedo explosion.
"We have to get out of here," She said quickly as she took Capee's arm.
"No!" Capee hissed. She wrenched herself free. "You go!"
"Cap!" Jellianna looked down at her friend in surprise.
"He no know you!" Capee said. Her ears flicked back towards the way she had come. "He know Capee…he know Slight…he know Mystic!"
Now the terror in Capee's eyes reached out and took hold of Jellianna's heart.
"He knows about the Mystic?"
Capee's ears flicked again, and this time, Jellianna heard the unmistakable sound of a footfall in one of the countless puddles beyond.
"Go!" Capee hissed again, pushing her away. "Take data and go!"
She turned and bolted. Back the way she had come. Jellianna knew she was running right past the junction where her pursuer would be approaching.
She wanted to call out, but she held back, understanding the sacrifice that the Bothan was about to make. She quickly ducked around the corner of the building and peered back, hopefully.
Maybe Capee could lose this pursuer and she would meet up with her friend later, steal another ship and get off this nightmare planet.
Then she heard a voice, soft, deep, melodic and filed with a cold calm that froze the blood in her veins.
"Here precious."
She saw a figure emerge at the far end of the alley, massive in size and knotted with muscle. The head turned, looking up and down the alley. She heard the stranger sniff, as if he were trying to catch an elusive scent.
Jellianna's mouth dropped open in horror when his head turned in her direction. In the flash of lightning, she saw his face. It was rugged, chiseled and handsome, with dark olive colored skin and deep close cropped brown hair and beard. But it was his eyes that frightened her the most. His deep, cold yellow eyes and the bulky LD1 rifle in his hands.
He had to be over two meters tall, and his size made the large rifle seem small and light by comparison.
His golden eyes turned back away and then his head snapped around and he smiled with teeth almost too pointed to be human.
"There you are, precious," he smiled, and he raised the rifle.
Capee bolted down the alley. The man turned quickly and aimed, firing one staccato shot. The blast caught the small Bothan in the middle of her back, igniting in a burst of fire and flinging the unfortunate victim forward several yards before she rolled through the water and came to a stop.
Jellianna clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that nearly exploded from her lungs.
The man looked back up the alley towards her place of concealment, as if to make certain he was alone. Then he turned and walked calmly towards the corpse of Capee, steaming in the puddle.
The lightning flashed again, and in the blinding white flare, Jellianna saw another sight, more horrible than the death of her friend.
Between the massive shoulders of the man hung a simple dark colored back pack, and lashed to the surface of the pack was a smaller bundle.
Jellianna's eyes went wide as she recognized the pattern of dark colors on the extraneous bundle. They were the colors of fur. Bothan fur.
She spun back in horror as she realized that this man had not only hunted her friends, he had treated it just like a real hunt, and taken the trophies of his adventure.
Forcing the horror back into her belly, she peeked back around the corner, jus in time to see the man draw a long, wide bladed knife and slice into his latest kill, cleaning the corpse.
Jellianna turned and, struck blind by revulsion and panic, she fled deeper into the bowels of the industrial center.
She reached the small apartment that served as the Alliance Safe House and ducked into the sparsely furnished street level apartment. Her mind was whirling with the horror of what she had just seen, and the images that her mind created about what had happened immediately after she had seen her friend killed.
She quickly stripped out of her flight suit and stuffed it into the incinerator. Then she ran into the refresher station and before she could stop it, she fell before the commode and the vomit belched forth from her belly in a series of violent chokes.
The quarters were enormous and lavishly appointed, though dimly lit. The big man stepped into the entry foyer, unconcerned about the copious amounts of oily water dripping onto the fine tile floor. His golden eyes pierced the darkness.
A single, ominous sound permeated the apartment. It was the slow regular sound of an artificial breathing apparatus. The breaths were deep, long, with a subtle hissing, like an old pressure regulator expelling extra gas.
Even he knew which Imperial was associated with that sound. In the years since Palpatine's rise to power, very few people in the galaxy did not know the name of his first lieutenant: The infamous Darth Vader.
The man released his hold on the two robed crimson guards that had attempted to search him, letting their limp bodies fall to the floor with a series of satisfying thumps.
He heard a rustle of movement from within the apartment.
"We're in here," A familiar, wizened voice called agreeably. "Join us."
The man passed deeper into the apartment and found himself in a large office gallery. The entire back wall was made of transparasteel and showed an incredible vista of the spires and needle like buildings of the city planet.
The view silhouetted the looming, robed shape of Lord Vader, standing to the right of another figure, also hooded and robed in black, and seated behind a massive desk.
The indicators on Vader's chest plate glowed an ominous crimson and blue in the feeble light.
The man considered the boldly vulnerable apparatus on Vader's chest.
"One blaster shot to that equipment," he thought. "And the mighty Darth Vader would fall like any other man."
Darth Vader's arms rose and crossed over his chest and he said knowingly. "You would not be the first to try."
The man raised a single reddish brown eyebrow, as if amused by the fact that Lord Vader had read his thoughts so easily.
He turned and nodded his head to the Emperor. "My Lord."
The Emperor gestured to his newest guest as he looked up at Darth Vader.
"Lord Vader," he said easily. "I present to you, one Huntir Ayala."
Vader nodded his helmeted head once.
"Master Ayala caught my attention when we pacified the world of Rori some months ago. He gave our troops a merry chase and cost us no less than two dozen of my finest stormtroopers in his arrest."
His head gazed out past his guest at the two corpses lying in the foyer.
"I see that city life has not atrophied your survival skills, Huntir."
Huntir glanced back at the bodies of the Crimson Guards and then shrugged unapologetically. "They were most insistent that I not be allowed to bring my package to you." A frosty smile just touched the corners of his mouth. "I convinced them otherwise."
His voice was low, almost a growl, and his golden eyes held the Emperor's burning gaze for a long time without flinching.
"I have a gift for you," he continued as he unslung the black pack from his shoulders. He released the small straps binding two other objects to the container and let the contents roll out onto the carpeted floor.
The two hides unrolled easily, assuming vaguely humanoid shapes.
The Emperor leaned forward slightly to look upon the grisly trophies with red rimmed eyes. The gray wrinkles of his face curled into an appreciative smile.
"These are the ones who attempted to break into my research facility tonight?"
"Yes," The man nodded, his golden eyes never leaving the Emperor.
The Emperor sighed theatrically. "What is it about Bothans and this desire for subterfuge? Surely they must have realized that they could not possibly have been able to penetrate the security measures of that facility."
"In point of fact," The big man said evenly. "They did."
"Did what?" The Emperor asked, his eyes returning from the skins on the floor to lock onto Huntir's golden eyes.
"These two managed to penetrate the defenses of your facility, My Lord," Huntir explained. He removed a data card from one of the pockets in his pack and handed it to the Emperor. "As you can see, they did not succeed in leaving, however." His toe absently flipped a corner of the fresh skin.
The Emperor received the card with a genteel smile. "Have you seen the information on this card, Master Ayala?"
Huntir smiled, truly smiled, for the first time. "I have not, Your Eminence. I am not interested in your political games and dark corner dealings. I look only as far as the hunt, and that satisfies me completely."
The Emperor smiled appreciatively as he received the card.
"You see, Lord Vader," he said. "Efficient as well as discreet."
"It is a matter of survival, Your Eminence," Huntir said with a frosty smile. "If I had read that card and told you I had not, you would have known that I was lying and that would have made me a liability to your endeavors. If I had read it and told you, then I would have only been an honest liability, but a liability, none the less. A liability that you might consider needed to be removed."
"Indeed," The Emperor nodded, smiling in appreciation. "A matter of survival, on your part."
"Yes," Huntir nodded.
The Emperor slid the datacard into the port on his desk and watched as the information scrolled up before his yellow eyes.
His expression went rigid for a moment, and then his lips curled into a grotesque expression. He drew the data card out and it suddenly incinerated in a flash of blue at his fingertips.
"This is a recipe for Bothan Tea!" He snarled. His red rimmed eyes flashed again on Huntir.
"You said there was no other person in that alley!"
"That I saw," Huntir replied easily, as if he were amused by this outburst.
"That you saw!" The Emperor repeated angrily.
"There were no other Bothans in the area, My Emperor," Huntir said. "That I am certain of. However, that does not discount the possibility of another species being present and undetected. The female may have bolted in her particular direction, not out of panic, but as a final attempt at deception."
"A deception that succeeded, apparently!" The Emperor replied.
Huntir looked up at Darth Vader who stood unmoving at the Emperor's side, his helmeted eyes fixed on Huntir. The mask belied no emotion, no hint of any human facet, and yet, Huntir sensed that the big Jedi was amused by this turn of events.
"Is the ship that the Bothans arrived in, still under surveillance at the Star Port, Lord Vader?" Huntir asked.
"It is," Vader replied.
Huntir turned back to the Emperor. It seemed that the older man was deciding whether or not he should burn the big man down where he stood.
"If I may be able to inspect their ship, My Lord," Huntir said quickly. "I may be able to determine where they came from and where they were going, after they got what they came for?"
The Emperor's rage cooled for a moment, partly because the idea had merit, and also because the fury had failed to elicit any reaction from the big man.
"Very well, Master Ayala," he said. His genteel smile reasserted itself. "I shall give you the opportunity to correct this error." He turned to the looming shadow beside him. "Lord Vader. You shall accompany Master Ayala, and assist in his efforts."
"As you wish, My Master," The helmeted behemoth replied with a slight nod.
"Do whatever you must to track down the remaining traitors in our midst, and return the information they stole to me." The Emperor's eyes drifted back down to the skins on the floor. "Along with the head of the individual or individuals who hold the information."
"On a platter?" Huntir asked, a slightly amused grin appearing on his face.
The Emperor's icy smile matched that of the tracker. "Is there any other way?"