"New orders: take out the garrison leader here." My commpad buzzed; the message scrolling across my feed. Damn, I knew this mission was too easy for the asking price. At least I'm being compensated for the added risk. Plus, you know, I can demand more for them upping the severity. I walked to the ventral hatch of my ship and cycled the doors. Did I really want to do this? I could always back out. Go home, contract declined. Or, I could turn on my employer; drop a lead on the garrison doorstep. I'd come this far, I had no other choice. I left a command to R-Qu0, the inborn personality given to the ships interface, which had mutated and grown into its own system.

"Stay hidden unless I call. In that case, raise hell." My pad buzzed once more as he acknowledged the transmission. Mission was a go. I took a breath, and then slapped the cycle control. Without a warning, as I had designed it, the seal broke and slid apart. Water rushed in. My armor flash sealed, the pressure sensor shooting up before leveling out. 1400 meters. Deep enough to still be in darkness, too bright for most of the predators. Thank whomever.

The Primary labs, my initial target for scouting, were still far below. The Mandolorian garrison however, was on the surface. I swan upwards, not trusting the ballast packs on my armor. Slowly, light began to trickle in. The first mark of the station I saw was a massive floatation pack. It was what held the station aloft. Sadly, the order came with a stipulation, no unnecessary casualties. So, I couldn't just detonate the floats and pick off survivors who floated up. No, I had to waltz through a base on lockdown, kill one of two men, and slip out unnoticed.

I pushed off the float, rising to the next level. The framework of the station was too fun a target not to attach something to, as a precaution. A few blocks of thermal paste, hooked to a closed circuit fuse, and I had an exit strategy if things got to looking like a wookie. I swam upwards, breaching the surface at a point below the main hub. And of course the walkways weren't anywhere close to the surface.

Sadly, jetpacks and water do not work well together, and force leaps only take one so far. The kaminoans rode some sort of Ray around on the surface, which meant that there had to be a way up other than catching a glider. A blinking light caught my eye, and I dove back down towards it. It was an access panel, opening a chute that ran off the rainwater form the platform. Useless. Unless…

With an idea in mind, I reached into one of my pouches. Contained within was a reel of thin line. It wasn't easy to create an isolated attraction force between the end of the line and a metal spike, while hovering under water in a continuous storm, but the work paid off. I ran the access flow backwards, leaving the metal caltrop in the flow. In a small and hopefully unnoticed geyser, the spike flew out of the walkway and embedded itself somewhere. I threw the line into the air, which was high enough for the attractive forces to take root, and reconnect the circuits. I tugged on the connection, making sure it was stable. I threw myself upwards, climbing steadily. I reached the edge of the walkway, and hoisted myself atop. Strangely enough, there was a republic scout ship on the end of the pad. I shrugged off the weirdness, and slunk over to disengage my line. I yanked the barb out and shoved it back into my armor. No one would notice the scratch on the red paint, right?

Quickly, I slipped away from the intrusion, headed for the main lifts. My armor looked Mandolorian enough to pass the kaminoans. They wouldn't notice the lack of clan tag. As I neared the lift, I noticed that the actual platform was elsewhere. Even more curious. Rather than take the main path, which was barred for the time being, I looked around. There was a service chute nearby. I ran for it. I heard the ping of the lift doors opening as I closed on the hatch. In desperation, I shoved it open. Hiding in the semidarkness, I dared to peer out.

Striding across the bay was an older man, clothed in fine clothes. Rather than being an easy mark, something told me he was dangerous. I burrowed further. His path took him close to my hiding place, which didn't make sense. There was nothing over here except …

He winked at my hiding place, and I knew the game was up. Finally, I remembered the reports I had heard of the man. He wasn't a prince, not a king. Not a baron but a… count. Count Dooku. Sith lord, former Jedi. Wealthy beyond compare. If he knew… He held up a small remote, showing it to me. It was similar to the one I had linked to- the platform shook. Dazed form the concussion wave that had been generated by the tight shaft, he reached out and pulled my saber to him. He gave a tight smirk and strode into his ship. The moment he was off the surface, the engines roared, and he was gone. My head pounding, I barely had the presence of mind to call R-qu0.

"R-Qu0, there's been trouble. I need help. Protocol Delphi. Things are going to be messy." Delphi was the FUBAR button. It meant that there were no restrictions. Survival, at any cost. I quickly left my hiding spot, certain that Dooku was the same man who had hired the bounty hunter alpha here. Fett. He knew I was here. And, he had the pull here to get the clan to intervene. If R-qu0 didn't come soon, I was going to be flayed alive.

The first target that appeared was a rookie. His helm was off, and his comm was locked. He may not have even known that there was an alert. Still, he had a weapon, which made him a threat. I tightened my breath, and leapt the crate I was behind. The small blade I had palmed flew true, and he didn't make a sound as it spun into his eye. One down, ten thousand to go. The next target was much more prepared. He was indeed canned and ready. He stepped from the lift firing. I was in the midst of dodging blaster bolts when the ground below me exploded. My last sight was Jango, bar armor, holding a single shot rocket launcher, still smoking. Something felt different about him, off. Blackness rolled across my vision, obscuring everything.

"—council that I'm following. Thank you R-4." The voice, whoever it belonged to, commanded respect. It gave orders, others followed. A few beeps in reply, Droid. I denoted. I groaned softly.

"So would you mind telling me what business a bounty hunter has on a forgotten planet?" Not soft enough, I bemoaned.

"Not really." I volunteered, rather cheerfully. Betrayed by ones faction, one tries to refrain from making enemies.

"Hmm." He grunted in disapproval. Oh well, can't please everyone.

"Either way, I have to thank you for the space. It is cramped in that little tin can they call a stealth scouter." Now warm, softer. He was trying to get me to talk.

It wouldn't work.

"You're lucky I don't press charges on that scratch. Scratching a Jedi fighter is a serious offense." My eyes opened at that. Jedi? Crap.

"Yeah, no problem. Let say, it wasn't my decision." A beep came from the ship intercom.

"Traitor." I hissed back. I was on my ship. Evidentially, R-Qu0 had interpreted my Delphi as permission to contact my enemies. It amused the Jedi that the two droids had been in communication since they both entered range. I did not see it so nicely. Without my saber, I couldn't take this Jedi. I had to go to Coruscant, where I would be questioned in full council, of my role in the disaster. Absolutely lovely.