"Te buurenaar nu'nuhoy. Te oya'karir ganar cin vhetin."
"The storm no longer slumbers. The hunt begins anew."
- Mandalore the Unyielding, on the eve of the first Great Hunt
Brimstone Tapcaf, Imperial City (formerly Coruscant)
The galaxy was a big place, populated by trillions upon trillions of people. A great ecumenopolis like Coruscant housed a sizable number of them, all crammed into great glittering towers that stretched so high into the sky Republic researchers had long ago been forced to artificially expand the atmosphere to maintain the planet's habitability.
Finding a single person in the endless urban sprawl was a quite literal impossibility. Unless, of course, one knew where to look. And Kassh Goran knew that to find someone who wished to remain hidden, one had to leave the congested skylanes and heavenly towers that adorned the Upper City. One had to turn their gaze to the dirt, long ago lost beneath kilometers of duracrete foundations.
The "civilized" people of Coruscant called the upper levels their home. But the deeper one went, the further into the darkness and the filth, away from the scintillating lights of the towers, the more populous and profitable Coruscant truly became. After descending to the underlevels of the planet city, the art museums and opera houses were replaced by weapon vendors and shady drug hubs. The spotless Senate Chambers were nowhere in sight here, blocked from view by strip clubs, stimspice dens, mercenary enclaves, and — most importantly — cantinas.
As he pushed through the front door of the Brimstone Tapcaf, he instantly knew he'd found who he was looking for; the retrofitted B2 battle droids flanking the door, supported by an entire retinue of lanky Twi'lek, Nikto, and human mercenaries, would not be here unless they were guarding something — or a specific several someones — of significant importance.
He wasn't supposed to be here. He entered anyway, knowing none of the guards had the will or courage to stop him. Most weren't even able to look him in the eye.
Kassh Goran was no great warrior. He wore no armor, boasted no fearsome scalps on his person, and carried nothing more than a small field pistol holstered on his hip. But he inspired fear in others nonetheless. Even here, these guards knew his reputation. They knew what he was capable of and what he was willing to do to get what he wanted. So they let him pass, more eager to face the wrath of their employers than stand up to him.
The music that was roaring across the cantina was more annoying than usual, washing against his sensitive hearing with all the painful insistence of a power grinder. He passed by the stage, using all his considerable willpower to keep himself from plugging his ears in annoyance. He instead shot a glare at the spindle-legged Dug singer and continued his journey through the filth-ridden bar, tossing the stump of his severed lekku over his shoulder. His eyes were trained forward, a dark sneer pulling at his features.
It didn't take long to reach the reinforced door in the back; the cantina was largely deserted to ensure the security of its special VIP patrons. The Rodian standing guard to the left of the door was obviously braver than his compatriots outside, as the bug-like alien trained his blaster on the newcomer as soon as Kassh drew near. His proboscis twitched and he spoke in a reedy, garbled voice.
"Stop right there," the Rodian hissed in Huttese. "No one's allowed in. I suggest you head back the way you came."
The Twi'lek said nothing. Instead, he held up his hand, palm-out, and displayed the segmented diamond tattoo that adorned his palm. The Rodian's bloated bug eyes widened slightly, but he didn't move.
"I'm sorry, sir," the alien muttered, a grudging note of respect entering his tone. Somehow his nasally bug-like buzz was more annoying than the Dug singer's gravely screaming. "But you must relinquish your weapons before entry is permitted."
Arguing with or killing the guard would be a waste of time he could not afford. So Kassh decided to play along, at least for the moment. He handed the guard his pistol and the vibroblade sheathed down his boot, then patiently waited for entrance. The bug-faced alien nodded in thanks as he tucked the weapons into his own belt.
"They aren't expecting you, but I have orders to allow you entrance."
Kassh cocked his head. That was interesting. "Orders from whom?"
"Sorry, sir," the guard said. "I'm not at liberty to say."
Kassh was about to insist an answer, but the Rodian was clearly no longer interested in talking. He punched the keypad next to the door and stepped back with a respectful nod, folding his sucker-tipped fingers over his pistol. The entryway slid open with a loud schff of retreating metal that was almost lost in the clamor of the bar.
He bit back a grimace and stepped inside. As the door rumbled open, a wave of disgusting scents washed over him; warm, thick, and sickly-sweet, as if he'd taken a hefty whiff of the choice contents of a landfill. But then, the pungent odor was to be expected considering the room's inhabitants.
The room beyond was largely devoid of furniture, save for a single round conference table that dominated the spacious area. The table was hollow in the center, and he knew the floor could retract to give attendants an unobstructed view of the secret beast pits lurking just below the floor.
For now, however, the hatch was closed. The room's occupants were not here for blood, but for business.
Crowded around the round table sat nearly every major mob boss, gang leader, and criminal mastermind in the galaxy. There were four Nikto sitting bunched up together, two Twi'leks - a male and a female – sitting on opposite ends of the group, and no less than three Hutts reclining their repulsive slimy bulks on cushioned thrones.
That was a surprise. The decadent Hutts were known to bring their entire retinue with them everywhere, as if they felt naked without an army of weak-kneed supplicants catering to their every whim. This meeting must be more important than Kassh originally thought if they had forgone such comforts to retain their secrecy. It brought that much more satisfaction to the fact that he was interrupting without prior notice.
"Profits from the Malastare podraces are decreasing dramatically," one of the Nikto was growling out in heavily-accented Basic. "Ever since it was leaked that the races were fixed, local law enforcement troops have been swarming the tracks, rooting out our agents at every opportunity."
"The corrupt podraces are of no concern to my people," gurgled one of the Hutts in its native language, waving a flabby arm. It plucked a squirming morsel from the bowl resting at its elbow, dumping the squealing creature into its slimy gullet with a contented gurgle. "Hutta has no interest in such trivial matters. Leave the podraces to the regional administrators."
The female Twi'lek, her skin a rare shade of flushed beige, cocked a single elegant eyebrow at the massive slug-like alien. "The loss of profit from the races will surely be felt in all our organizations. If you recall, many of our business transactions are performed within the anonymity of the race crowds. Further scrutiny will only compound our losses."
"You… have a point," the Hutt grumbled. "I will be sure to place bribes in the right pockets and place the appropriate bounties. Shall we take our rivals dead or alive?"
"Dead," another Hutt rumbled, folding thick arms over a slime-coated, bloated belly. "Silence those who claim the races are fixed. And begin a new advertisement campaign throughout the Outer Rim. The seasonal finals are approaching. If we taper off our control of the races — only temporarily, of course — the crowds will flock back to us in droves."
"Indeed," the first Hutt boomed. "I will make arrangements once we have confirmation that—"
The massive alien stopped mid-sentence as their intruder finally stepped into the light. He cleared his throat to draw their attention, linking his arms casually behind his back. All the crime lords turned and took him in with identical expressions of bewilderment, anger, and surprise. He saw fear in some of their gazes, while others regarded him with nothing but careful curiosity.
He swaggered into their midst, a smile tugging at his lips. One of the Hutts — that fat blubberpot, Jabba — narrowed his yellow reptilian eyes in anger and rumbled, "You!"
"Yes." Kassh came to a halt and bowed his head in mock-respect. "Me, unfortunately."
Jabba tried to wriggle his way towards him, but without his repulsor sled he was unable to accomplish anything but a pathetic waving of his arms and a weak flop of his tail. The gangster was not as young as he once had been, and had boot on a good half ton since Kassh had last seen him. After a few futile moments he fell back against his pillows and growled in his wet-sounding native tongue.
"Give me one good reason why I should not have my guards in the cantina blast you here and now, schutta."
Another Hutt, the equally slimy but somehow slightly less repulsive Rotta, held up a greasy greenish appendage. "Wait," he gurgled. "Let him speak." He turned his flabby face towards their new visitor. "Why do you approach us, deserter? You know your exile from our territories still stands. We are well within our rights to kill you here and now."
Kassh snorted with disdain. "I would hardly consider myself a deserter, Rotta. Is it such a crime to pursue my own career?"
"It is when you take my money to begin your so-called career," Jabba muttered.
"Come now, Jabba," Kassh said, placatingly spreading his hands. "How much money have you stolen from your employers over your long career? It's merely part of the game we have all decided to play. And you, my old friend, are a sore loser."
Jabba grumbled and settled deeper into his cushioned seat. If possible, his flabby head sunk deeper into his chest, making his neck pile up around it like a wrapped hose. He glared out at Twi'lek gangster with narrowed yellow eyes, but didn't speak again.
One of the Nikto called attention away from the Hutt and spoke in thickly-accented Basic. "And how can we trust this one? He has already betrayed us once. For all we know, he could have brought the authorities right to our doorstep!"
The third Hutt, Kamna, belched loudly. "I think we should throw him out right now. Or perhaps dump him into the beast pens to play with the nexu."
The beautiful Twi'lek woman settled her delicate arms on the table in front of her, gesturing to Kassh with a single wave of her fingers. "No, I would like to hear what he has to say. He would not have returned simply to antagonize our Hutt friends."
She cocked her head, her lekku spilling enticingly over one bared shoulder. "Speak on, Kassh. You have my assurance that you will not be harmed."
He threw her a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Sekha."
The smile she returned was beautiful enough to send any humanoid's heart fluttering. But he knew better than to trust it, or let it distract him from his purpose here. He paused for only a moment before he began his carefully-rehearsed speech.
"As you are no doubt aware," he began, "our operations within the galaxy's underworld are becoming increasingly difficult to conceal from the Empire. The Old Republic was decadent enough for our separate organizations to grow and flourish under its decadent rule. But the Emperor's iron fist is slowly squeezing the life – and the money – from even the oldest of our traditions.
"Our mercenaries have been drafted by the Imperial military, bribed with payments that we sadly cannot match," he said, counting off on his long-nailed fingers. "Our allies within the Senate and the Treasury no longer deal with us for fear of attracting their masters' wrath." He gestured to the Nikto. "Now the podraces are faltering. How much longer before our racketeering schemes crumble? How many weeks before our weapon suppliers are swallowed up by Imperial buyers and our assassins tempted with employment by Imperial Intelligence?"
He shook his head with a scoff. "At this rate, it is only a matter of time before the Empire beats us at our own game."
There were mutters of reluctant agreement around the table. Even Jabba, his head still sunk down into his neck, nodded slowly.
"My faithful employees," Kassh continued, "have run calculations. Given the current rate of the Empire's expansion into the criminal underworld, we will all be driven out of business and most likely executed by the end of this galactic decade. We are all, of course, aware that the Emperor does not tolerate those who infringe upon his plans. He would gladly kill us all."
There was no movement at the table as his words sunk in. Then the Nikto began whispering among themselves and Sekha nodded slowly, a thoughtful look in her dark eyes.
"As it stands," he said, hooking his arms behind his back once more, "the strongest among our organizations, Black Sun - the one criminal consortium that would have half a chance of lessening the Emperor's hold on us - has publicly allied itself with the New Order to seek refuge within its fold. That is absolutely unacceptable."
"Why?" another of the Nikto grumbled in his native language. "Let the mighty Prince Xizor do as he wishes with his people and his money. If the Emperor has one criminal syndicate under his thumb, he will not look to claim another."
Kassh gazed at the speaker with open skepticism. "You are free to believe what you will, Master T'aaki. You are free to hide away and hope the big, bad Empire bypasses your doorstep. But I assure you, you will curse your ignorance in this meeting when they find you, burn your strongholds to the ground, and place you before a firing squad."
"Black Sun is no threat to us," said the male Twi'lek. "Why must we treat the good prince as the enemy?"
"Don't be naïve. Do you truly believe the Imperials can be seen publicly treating with our weapons dealers? Our corrupt podrace officials? Black Sun is the hidden hand of the Empire, felt throughout the underworld. And if the Emperor moves against us, rest assured it will be Xizor's troops who stand against us, and the Prince himself who pulls the trigger."
The Twi'leks glanced between themselves, looking suitably nervous. Kassh began to pace back and forth in front of them, pointedly meeting each of their gazes individually. "Yet despite our difficulties, Xizor believes he can escape by selling our organizations out! By stealing our businesses and claiming to master traditions we have controlled for centuries! I am no traitor when compared with his great deceit."
"So long as the prince rules Black Sun, he has the Emperor's approval," Sekha said, playing coyly with the tip of one lekku. "Any retaliatory action against him would only bring the Empire to our doorstep that much faster. Even if we wished to oppose him, what could we hope to accomplish?"
He opened his mouth to retort. Before he could, someone else spoke for him.
"In the grand scheme of matters?" the new voice said. "Nothing."
Everyone in the room, Kassh included, turned to face the new speaker. He strode regally into the room, his lanky frame adorned in deep purple-black robes. Dark, silky hair was pulled back into a long braid that fell almost to the floor, shimmering blue-black in the dim light of the council room. Flanking him on either side were a pair of Ubese bodyguards and a single human female that served as his personal aide. All the newcomers were carrying weapons. All those already within the room were not.
"Noble Prince Xizor Sizhran," one of the Nikto said, bowing his head respectfully. "You grace us with your presence."
Xizor smiled, displaying yellowed, razor-sharp teeth. His mottled green skin cast strange shadows down his face, granting him an otherworldly and sinister air; knowing him, he probably enjoyed it that way.
Kassh shot the crime lord a glare and snapped, "Yes, oh great and mighty Prince. What would cause such a powerful and honorable businessbeing to debase yourself by appearing in our humble presence?"
The Falleen prince surveyed everyone in the room with a regal air and that same sharp-toothed smile, ignoring the Twi'lek's remark. He spread his arms and stepped toward them.
"My friends," he said in his calm, seductive drawl of a voice, "I have heard your concerns and found them to be moving and well-founded. Yet I am here to tell you that I became the greatest among you for a single, simple reason: because I allied myself with the Empire."
He folded his long-nailed, green-skinned hands calmly in front of him, a peaceful gesture meant to promote cooperation and passivity. Yet his dark, flashing eyes suggested his intentions were everything but peaceful. Kassh bristled at the sight.
Jabba, however, chuckled — a deep ho ho ho that was infamous throughout the underworld. "Really? And what exactly does the Emperor contribute to Black Sun? Taxes? Inspections? Budgets?"
"Immunity," Xizor replied calmly. "While the Emperor does take a substantial percentage from our annual income, my forces have not run afoul of Imperial law for quite some time. My own podraces are progressing without incident and my weapon suppliers are well stocked with military-grade provisions. My operatives are free to maneuver with impunity, no longer confined to work from the shadows of the underworld. While he does require a show of loyalty from time to time, the Emperor knows how to keep his business partners happy."
"You joined forces with the Empire only months ago," Sekha pointed out. "How can you assume to predict the mind of the Emperor in so short a time?"
Xizor's scaly green-skinned face broke into a smile and his yellowish teeth glinted in the dim light. "Because the Emperor is at heart little more than a businessman, just as I am. Great minds thinking alike and all that."
Sekha's smile grew, her eyes flashing dangerously. "And how long is this peace going to last? Until you become a liability?"
The Prince nodded, looking truly disappointed. "Unfortunately yes. But that is an eventuality I am willing to accept, and one I have planned for accordingly."
"And while you grow fat on your profits," Kassh shook his head in disbelief, "what is left for the rest of us? I am sure I speak for everyone present when I say that we will not follow behind you to squabble over what crumbs you leave behind!"
"On the contrary…" Sekha suddenly murmured, as if she was speaking to herself more than anyone else, "an alliance with the Empire may not be such a horrid idea."
When Kassh whirled to fix her with a glare, she raised a thin eyebrow in challenge. Her previously playful, seductive tone was now thin and hard. The coy look in her eyes had vanished, leaving them cold and unwavering.
"You claim that the Empire is pushing hard on our profits," she said. "This is true. But the Empire has proved to be far more tolerant of certain illegal activities than the Republic that preceded it. Our contacts report that the Imperials have no compunctions about working with everything from low-level money launderers to bounty hunters like Boba Fett."
She gestured to the Falleen. "And look at our friend, the Prince. He has not been executed, but is wealthier than ever before. That alone should prove the Empire is not about to push us too hard. All we must do is show we approve of the new regime and do not seek to oppose the authority of the New Order."
Xizor spread his arms with a warm smile. "We all only seek to continue our businesses in peace. And I assure you the Emperor is more than willing to make concessions so long as he is treated with a proper show of loyalty."
"What? No!" Kassh growled and pointed at the Falleen prince. "This... this schutta is manipulating you! He wishes only to further his own power!"
He stepped forward, hands clenched into fists. "Shows of loyalty? Approval of the established regime? These are not the duties of a criminal organization, but the actions of a slave!"
The prince's voice was dripping with condescension. "Kassh, my friend, you are a very cunning individual. But in this regard you are simply wrong. Now please step aside and allow more enlightened minds to converse."
The Twi'lek's gaunt face twisted down in a deep scowl. He took a step towards Xizor, wanting very much to strike him. How dare this alien freak dismiss him so easily! He was not some petulant child to be brushed aside at the slightest provocation, confined to the shadows while the adults spoke business. He had every right to stand here with all the others!
Yet for all his rage, he barely managed a single step toward the Falleen. As soon as he moved, the Ubese bodyguards activated their crackling force pikes and the prince's attendant swiftly placed herself between the Prince and his would-be attacker. Her hands were balled into fists and a dark scowl pulled at her beautiful features.
"Not a step further," she growled. Kassh did not heed her warning.
She moved fast. Faster than he thought possible. Before he could begin to raise his hand to strike her, a deceptively hard fist sunk hard into his solar plexus and knocked all the breath from his lungs. He sputtered and fell to his knees in equal parts pain and shock, wheezing for air. The woman stepped back and planted her boot in his side, shoving him away and sending him sprawling, face-down, across the dirty floor.
He slid to a halt on the grimy tile with his head spinning, unable to do anything but let out a weak, pained groan and clutch at his stomach. Xizor watched him curl up on the filth-encrusted floor with a dispassionate sneer.
"My dear, deluded Twi'lek friend," the prince cooed. "Better men than you have attempted violence against me. My loyal Guri always ensures they fail."
There were quiet snickers around the table at the sight of their brash intruder so humbled by a thin human female like Guri. He looked up with streaming eyes and saw that Jabba was smiling contentedly, most of the Nikto were whispering to each other again, and — most important and painful of all — Sekha was staring at Xizor with unabashed admiration.
He narrowed his eyes, feeling the sting of the woman's betrayal course through him in a crackling, white-hot wave. Yet his voice trembled weakly as he cried, "You are a fool, Sekha. You all are fools!"
Jabba laughed, the same thunderous ho ho ho echoing through the room. He shifted on his cushion and his thick, stubby tail twitched in amusement. "And what do you plan to do about it? You already sponge credits off of us like a feeble desert rock leech. And here the rest of us sit, fat and rich while you squabble over what crumbs we leave behind. If we ally ourselves with the Emperor, what can you do to dissuade us?"
Kassh stood, fists clenched and shaking with rage. He fought to come up with something to say, something that would change their minds and reveal the green-skinned bastard for the treacherous snake he truly was. Something to feed the fire burning within him and validate his rage.
But at this crucial moment, his silver tongue failed him. No words came.
He stood, trembling, for a few moments longer. Then he silently turned and stormed out of the room. He could still hear the other crime lords whispering and snickering after him, even as the heavy blast door sealed once more.
When the Rodian guard stepped forward to return his weapons, Kassh punched him in his sucker-like mouth.
Prince Xizor stared after the enraged gangster, scowling only slightly as the door slammed shut. Once he was sure the troublesome Twi'lek would cause no further disruption, he turned his attention back to the other residents of the room. A mass of multicolored eyes was watching, waiting for him to make the next move.
He easily plastered a calm smile onto his face and tucked his long-nailed hands into the folds of his sleeves. His air of superiority and grace effortlessly returned.
"Master Goran will sputter and argue as he always has," he said. "But his childish whimpering is not dissimilar from the opposition your own organizations will face if you choose to ally with me and the Empire."
Sekha tilted her head. "You knew Kassh would oppose this alliance?"
"Of course. That is why I gave express orders for him to be allowed entrance." Xizor gestured to the door. "Kassh represents the beings we control: arrogant, foolhardy, and far too enamored of themselves to see reason. I allowed him entrance to show you a better path."
"A path that leads to the Empire," Rotta the Hutt rumbled.
The prince flashed the Hutt another of his sharp-toothed smiles. "As astute as always, Master Rotta. But hear me, I implore you: the Empire is not a threat. Weak-minded traditionalists like Kassh will oppose your decisions, but I promise you there is nothing to fear from the Emperor."
"Who says we are afraid?" Jabba rumbled, settling deeper into his cushioned chair with a contented belch. A wrinkled three-fingered hand scratched at his underarm, then rested over his bloated belly. "Kassh is the one who fears the Empire."
"Yes," Xizor sighed. His eyes narrowed. "Our outspoken Twi'lek friend has strong opinions on this matter. But he will not be a hindrance for much longer. You can trust me on that."
"It is amazing how often you use the phrase trust me." Sekha let out a soft and delicate laugh he found quite pleasing to the ear. "My only question is can we truly trust you, Prince?"
"Give me a month," Xizor replied, bowing his head slightly in her direction. With Sekha, even an insincere show of deference went a long way. "One month and I will show you how simple it is to crush his kind of resistance. If he is not silenced by that time, then by all means follow his passionate and ill-advised example. You are free to pursue whichever path you find most appealing."
Sekha rubbed her chin with a single delicate fingertip. "Kassh holds no power over us. He can do only what he has already done: shout and stamp his feet. He is no threat, yet he still has his uses. Eliminating him may be... how do you say... overkill?"
"Nevertheless," the Falleen crime lord said, "his whimpering is an annoyance I will no longer tolerate. He proved a valuable example of the anti-Imperialism that hinders our businesses. But his organization has been leeching off our own for far too long, and now must be removed from play. I am sure you will agree."
Sekha simply shrugged. Xizor lowered his head in a deeper, more respectful bow, then moved forward to continue his speech with his bodyguards and the beautiful Guri at his side. This time, there were no more disgruntled murmurs interrupting him. And while he made his plea to the other crime lords, a plan began to take form in his mind.
Kassh Goran was an outspoken ronto, fighting for prominence in a much larger herd. There was nothing he could do to substantially influence the other organization leaders against Xizor; the Twi'lek's infamous reputation for deceit and thievery hindered those plans. But should he find the manpower to back up his claims by force, he would be a threat not only to Xizor's plans but to the Emperor's as well.
Therefore, he had to be removed from play. Permanently.
The Twi'lek gangster was no pushover. He was intelligent and driven, with a mind for tactics many of his fellow crime lords lacked. If he was to be removed, his assassin would have to be very skilled indeed.
Thankfully, the prince already had someone in mind.