A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...
STAR WARS
THE TALE OF THE HEAD HUNTER
PART I
THE PRIZED HEAD
by
Doug Mac Donald
High above a dull, milky-gray cataract eye of a world a rebel assault shuttle appeared from lightspeed, without warning and to the complete shock of the entire crew. The Salvation had just made the jump to hyperspace only moments ago after a hit and run rescue mission, to suddenly find themselves violently pulled back into real space. With a shudder, metal screeched as though the ship was going to tear itself apart. It rocked, engines sputtering. Proximity alarms went off like a pack of shrieking womprats; rebel troopers and officers ran about to regain their stations. The captain stood from his chair, taking it all in.
"Shields up to full. All available batteries standby."
The captain's first mate came running to him at that moment. "Sir, sir, it appears we've...."
The captain cut him off sharply. "We've been caught by an interdiction field."
"Sir!" Came another voice. "Weapons are still running at thirty percent."
"Damn. Full stop. Turn this crate around. How are shields?"
"Sixty and rising. Won't get more than seventy-two."
Another voice came at the captain, "Sir two ships coming in, one's a capital, the other a freighter."
Racing almost along the exact trajectory as the Salvation, the first was a freighter called the Scour, which was desperately trying to evade a barrage of laser blasts coming from an Imperial Star Destroyer. The two were heading on a collision course toward the Salvation at full throttle.
"Take evasive action!" the captain called out, taking his command chair. He watched as slowly, interminably his ship rotated to escape the two ships. His eyes wavered uncertainly for the first time to his first mate.
"This was supposed to be the easy part," he muttered. His ship had been badly damaged from a long hard battle. The Salvation had just attacked an Imperial prison facility on Tanteract, rescuing seventy-seven rebel prisoners. The mission to hit the world and save as many prisoners as possible had been carefully planned for months. All available reports showed that once the attack was done within the projected timed guidelines; there was no window of opportunity for the Empire to get a capital ship there for support in time to stop them. And yet here they were, yanked from hyperspace and under attack. The rescue mission had caused them severe damage, mostly to their weapons systems and their shields. And it appeared that their sudden drop down to sub-light had tortured their engines as well.
"Captain Merrill! We're being hailed by the freighter sir."
The first mate interjected at this point, leaving the Captain to oversee the retreat. "Very well, open a channel. This is Lieutenant Mortwick of the starship Salvation. What is your status freighter?"
An alien sound came through the bridge's speakers, clearly it was another language, but the sound that had made it could not be classified as a voice. It sounded like a deep bass-like rumble, and it was not in their computer's translation banks.
"We can't make anything from it, sir, but the ship is broadcasting a distress signal."
Mortwick grunted at this. "I bet." Assault Shuttles like assault frigates had no docking bays, but did have several umbilical docking tubes. They could not understand the alien's plea, but it was obvious to all that the freighter was in distress, being fired upon by a Star Destroyer. They couldn't just leave the freighter to its own devices, and yet slowing down to allow the ship to dock could very well doom them all.
The first mate stood, nervously watching the viewscreens as the Star Destroyer came at them. If they were going to do something, they had better do it quick. Uncertainly, the Lieutenant made his decision. "Close the channel, we can't afford to..."
"Negative, Lieutenant," the captain cut in.
"With all due respect captain, that unmarked freighter is likely to be a smuggler, or something worse. We need to get out of here."
The captain nodded once. "That ship doesn't stand a chance, and besides we could use its firepower if we're going to get out of this mess. Slow this crate down and allow the ship to dock. I just hope that pilot is good enough to try a high speed dock."
"But sir, what about that Star Destroyer?"
"We're going to ignore it. Make a heading toward the Interdictor cruiser in the distance. Our only priority is to get back to base and we can't do that until we shut down that gravity well."
The Salvation rocked at that moment as several stray blasts hit its shields. The captain watched as the space freighter closed the gap between them, and to the captain's relief, the pilot was good enough to dock. It took only a few quick moments for the Scour to dock with the assault shuttle. Turning at that moment, front shields at full, the shuttle launched itself at the Star Destroyer, firing all available weapons. When the Star Destroyer fired back the Empire was too late, its velocity was too great, and both ships passed each other without inflicting any major damage.
Inside of the assault shuttle, a small-armed security team made their way to the docking tube to greet the visitor and determine if the pilot was friend or foe. The docking tube was silent; distantly the security team could hear the muffled explosions of laser blasts impacting against the shields. The airlock opened, revealing the Scour's tall gray docking door. The team waited a breath before stepping forward. The door to the freighter opened with a loud click and a soft hiss.
No one appeared.
They could hear rhythmic dripping coming from inside the ship. There was moisture on the inside of the hatch, and it ran off into a small puddle onto the deck plates of the docking tube. No other sound could be heard, except for the soft dripping of water.
The security sergeant motioned for two of his men to step forward to take a look. Two of the armored troopers warily made their way forward until the dripping was splattering on their helmets as they stepped into the darkness. The floor plates trembled as a fearful roar rattled every transparisteel window in the docking tube. The two forward guards were violently pulled into the darkness with screams that were abruptly silenced. The welcoming party had just enough to time to bring their weapons up before a creature came racing down the docking tube. Its entire bulk filled the hallway and it was a wonder that it could close the distance between it and its prey in such small quarters, so quickly.
Stomping through the tunnel was a nahlee, a lizard-like creature, with large flat feet with only two toes; it did not stand erect, but bobbed, its spine completely perpendicular to its legs. It had a short stubby tail that swayed with each step, acting as a balancing tool. Its large head was nearly a meter long and almost half as wide with tiny brown eyes that seemed to dart everywhere. As it ran, its maw remained opened, as if hungry, displaying a row of teeth that were numerous and sharp. Its skin was thick and leathery and patched with dark green. Mashed between its teeth were the remains of the two forward guards.
The sergeant disappeared next, his upper torso caught in the nahlee's mouth. The creature stopped, firmly planting its feet onto the metal deck. It spun and whipped its tail sweeping the rest of the security squad across the bay. Laser blasts went wild, striking the ceiling and the walls. The acrid smoke from the damage seemed to enrage the beast further and it turned and let loose a roar so loud all other sound was drowned out. And then it stomped into the group of men.
The pilot of the Scour appeared from his ship when the battle was complete, walking with large hulking feet that smacked the metal with each stride. The creature held only a wooden staff with three branches growing from the top. The alien murmured to himself in that same low bass-rumble the bridge crew had heard earlier. As he appeared from the shadows of his ship, it was clear that the creature was a full two feet taller than the average human. His skin was yellow up the front, while the back was patched heavily with a darker green. His exaggerated arms dragged across the floor and his long fat neck seemed to stretch forever. Crimson eyes scrutinized everything. It was an Amanin.
He continued to walk forward, mumbling to himself. When he reached the dying, screaming security team he gave a slight bow of his triangular head and patted the nahlee on the head.
The Amanin slipped into the main corridor, mindful of the new alarms coming from the docking tube. The alien slipped down into another darkened hallway, everything was submerged in an eerie red glow as the ship went to red alert. Already more humans were racing to the docking tube to see what the new commotion was. The Amanin rumbled aloud now, pretending to try to communicate with the oncoming humans, he kept his face calm, red eyes deep and dark. With eerie calm, the creature waved one of his great arms in the direction he had come.
The leader of the squad kept his weapon trained on the alien. "Take the squad ahead, and shut down this corridor, I don't want anymore surprises." The humans turned and continued their race. The squad leader remained behind with another officer.
"You there, follow us."
The Amanin rumbled and gestured to the docking tube again.
"Our men will handle the situation sir, but this area must be locked down, including all sentients within. When everything is back under control, you will be sent to your ship until the captain has a moment to greet you personally. So if you'll just come with us." The guard motioned with his weapon that he was serious.
The creature seemed to shrug in resignation and stepped up to the two guards. They lifted their chins to look the creature in the eyes; it was a long way up to look. The Amanin's palms fell to their shoulders, fingers so long, that the tips reached the small of their backs. He patted their shoulders as if to say, 'sure, no problem'. The guard, who had done the talking nodded his head, pleased that a fight would not ensue.
A messy explosion of red and gray matter splattered the bulkhead. What remained of the two soldiers fell to the ground, headless. The alien turned his hands around to see the remains of the guards. The head in his right hand was still intact; the left was a thick mass of skull and flesh. He dropped the mess of human head and stuck the intact head onto a spike of his wooden stick. Satisfied, the alien continued through the Salvation. He moved with great speed, swinging from the overhead pipes. Occasionally he would let itself drop to the floor, where he would waddle on its short legs. The ship rocked violently again as the Star Destroyer let loose another barrage of blasts, which was keeping a modest distance in order to keep it in its sights. The Amanin came across several other crewmembers that met the same demise as the guards.
And then the hunter entered the bridge.
Captain Merrill seemed not to notice, as he was intently watching the viewscreen before him and the Interdictor cruiser they were attacking. One of the gravity well projectors on the starcruiser erupted into a massive flame. With that down, so was the gravity field that kept the Salvation prisoner. A cheer erupted through the bridge, but Merrill remained grim, knowing they were far from free. The jump to hyperspace lay ahead, and there was no telling if the ship could survive it.
Many of the crew turned to look at the intruder, but before any move could be made, the Amanin withdrew a modified BlasTech rifle (modified to fit his gargantuan hands) and opened fire. Several dozen blaster shots later, after the smoke and confusion cleared itself, only one man remained alive. Captain Merrill. He knelt before his command chair, with his hands over his head, shaking with fright. The Salvation sailed silently through space, weapons no longer firing. As the ship rocked again from attack, the alien seemed to pay no attention to the captain, as though he did not know one man still lived. He made his way to the main controls and punched in several commands, rerouting all remaining weapon power to the shields. With that done, the creature plotted a nav jump and relayed it over to his ship's computer.
Merrill, finally finding his strength again, slipped a blaster out of his dead lieutenant's hand and made himself visible. The Amanin reacted as violently as the nahlee had and sent the captain flying across the bridge with one swipe of his giant hand.
Moment's later under a final and continuous assault against the Salvation the Scour disembarked from the failing ship and blasted away from the battle. The Destroyer, intent on the rebel ship, fired a few shots at the Scour without much success. With coordinates set, the freighter disappeared with a shudder of pseudomotion leaving behind the fiery destruction of the Salvation and the death of the seventy-seven rebel prisoners.
* * * * *
The Scour was one of the less-known freighters in the Hunter's Guild, it was a centuries old design of the Mon Calamari that had been discarded when the Mon Cal's abandoned their efforts to build freighters in order to provide the Rebellion with warships. The ship was similar in shape to a manta ray, with a large front that hooked back in two great wings. Protruding from the center-rear portion of the ship was a single thruster. The belly of the ship had also been fitted with smaller fatter cylinder-like thrusters. The cockpit sat atop of the starship, toward the front, giving the pilot a wide view of the galaxy around him. The ship was heavy and bulky, and slowing it down even more was the thick heavy armor that protected it.
The interior of the ship had been heavily modified to allow for the comfort of Amanins. The cockpit controls had to be completely water resistant to be able to withstand the amount of moisture that Amanins found comfortable. Their wrinkly skin had to be kept moist for the most part, although most could live under the driest conditions for long periods of time. Running along either side of the hallways were small ditches catching the moisture to be recycled back into the ship's environment. Water dripped continuously in every room and every hallway of the Scour.
Several different kinds of vegetation were also thriving on the ship. Mosses and algae covered the metal walls in great patches, while olive green plants littered the hallways, plants with yellow fronds that were found on the Amanin homeworld of Maridun. These plants offered camouflage for the Amanins, although not needed on the freighter it was akin to painting a room with your favorite color.
The Amanin, known as Skr'tee in the Hunter's Guild rarely used this spacecraft, and then only on important missions. The Scour was never seen at Jabba's Palace, instead the Amanin chose a simple GAT-12j Skipray to be seen in, which he used for most of his hunts. Satisfied that the ship had not been heavily damaged, the Amanin slipped from his oversized pilot chair and swinging from the branches that were growing across the ceiling, made his way down to the cargo bay.
Skr'tee's apprentice met the bounty hunter there. The cargo bay looked like a jungle, hanging from the ceiling were great vines that dripped from the continuous moisture. A thick layer of soil covered the deck plates sprouting dozens of varieties of ferns from the homeworld.
The apprentice was a smaller creature who spent most of his spare time with the nahlee, ensuring the creature was well taken care of and well fed. There they exchanged a few words about the condition of the ship and of the nahlee.
Averting his eyes the apprentice replied:
The nahlee stopped chewing on a rebel officer for a moment to look up at Skr'tee as though it knew it was being talked about. After a few seconds the nahlee resumed its meal. Strewn across the ground were dozens of severed heads that the creature didn't even consider for food. The beast was chained down by both hind legs, never free to roam the ship unless it had a purpose to. Skr'tee came up to the nahlee which dwarfed even the Amanin and hit the creature across the snout with his staff. The nahlee shuffled back, shuddering. The Amanin swept up all of the heads into his hands, fitting no less than four in each.
In the rear of the cargo bay was a tiny cell, the bars of which were charged with pure energy. Behind it, Captain Merrill sat trying to ignore the awful crunching of bone that at one time belonged to his crew. "What's happened to my ship?" he demanded. "Where are the rest of my crew?" Skr'tee was silent. "All right then, where are you taking me?"
The bounty hunter ignored the human and began placing the heads in a metal tub where they would be chemically treated to remain fresh for years to come. Skr'tee held his two hands together, bringing them to his gleaming ruby eyes. The heads stared back blankly; the Amanin did not notice the blood on his hands. These heads were unremarkable as most humans went, oh there were one or two that caught his eyes, but the others he would bring back home and add to his collection. It was Merrill that the Amanin wanted and so there lay the problem. Jabba the Hutt had put a bounty on the captain, quite a large one in fact but it only paid so well when the hunted one was brought in alive. Yes, Merrill would fit nicely on his new staff, very nicely indeed. The head was a good size. The eyes would have to be removed of course, but this human had excellent bone structure, his jaw was long and the cheeks hollow. An excellent specimen indeed.
"Hey, you!" the captain shouted. The nahlee, hearing the disturbance growled in annoyance and set its eyes on the rebel captain. The Amanin stepped up to the cell, staring down; a thick translucent tongue appeared from the creatures' mouth running across his thin blood red lips.
"What ever you're getting paid is small compared to what I can get you. Other bounties as well. I have some friends in the Rebellion that needs hunters. Can you understand me? Are you listening?"
Skr'tee turned to the nahlee and simply stared at the creature. The nahlee stood up on its hind legs with a roar and raced over to the cell. The apprentice fell back in surprise. Each time the beasts' massive foot came down, the floor rocked, throwing Merrill to the ground. The creature stopped only inches away from the charged bars, caught by its chains, and then gave a piercingly loud burst of a roar. Merrill closed his eyes and covered his ears with his hands. Nahlee's were empaths to a certain degree, when they spent enough time around a master; they developed a rapport, where most of the time speech was not needed to command them. Skr'tee had grown this particular creature from a babe, and their mental rapport felt impervious at times.
Skr'tee switched off the power to the cell and opened it. Merrill was still quaking in his uniform when the Amanin stepped up to him, his long fingers wrapping around his head....
* * * * *
Skr'tee arrived on Tatooine late into the night when the planet was at its coolest, and the court of Jabba the Hutt was full to capacity. The Amanin arrived in the Skipray, its precious nahlee back on Maridun where it was free to roam. He had learned from the past not to bring the nahlee to Jabba's palace too often. It would always be brought in to fight Jabba's latest beast, now a rancor. As much as Skr'tee enjoyed the bloodbaths, both the nahlee and rancor would not stop until both were dead. To have a dead nahlee was not profitable in any way, even for its head.
Skr'tee entered the Palace, walking with his wooden cane covered by a tattered cloth, followed by his apprentice. The younger creature had no name as he had not earned it by going through the Amanin right of passage, but the creature was six feet tall and had green skin running up the front of his belly and the back was a darker, moss green color. Following the two aliens, was a jade protocol droid, painted with stripes along its back similar to Skr'tee. The droid had been modified over the years, its neck stretched and elongated to look more 'Amanamanish'. Its normal human-like hands were replaced by great clumsy looking digits that looked completely out of place on the droid. The protocol droid carried a brown sack full of something meaty and wet.
Stopping suddenly, the headhunter turned to his apprentice, wrapping his elongated fingers around the smaller Amanin's head. Menacingly, Skr'tee leaned over and with a violent tug, brought the little one's face closer.
The apprentice rocked from the movement, and leaned up against a wall to steady himself. Cautiously, the runt followed. He did not like Jabba's Palace, the very concrete of the place reeked of death and dishonor. He would be glad when they left this place, this planet.
They entered the court in the middle of another one of Max Rebo's improvised songs. Skr'tee could hear the whisperings already, his presence was legend among a few of them while others gave the creature no second thought. Skr'tee paused at the center of the dance floor, mindful of Jabba's infamous trap door. The apprentice kept a respectful distance away and followed Skr'tee's protocol instructions to the letter. The protocol droid and apprentice both nodded twice at Jabba and then came to one knee and bowed before the great one. Skr'tee bowed to no one.
"Bo Shudda, Skr'tee." The slug belched out.
The droid and runt both rose and stood still. The protocol droid came forth at that moment and produced the sack. From the sack, a body slipped and fell with a smack against the cold stone, clothes completely saturated with blood. It was the headless Captain Merrill.
Jabba's roar was deafening, making his rage more than apparent. "What is the meaning of this headhunter?" the bloated one spat. The music suddenly stopped, an oppressive silence descended upon the court. "You continue to disappoint me. Where is this bounty's head?"
Skr'tee stepped forward and with a quick motion of his hand, removed the tattered cloth covering the staff to reveal a white-sun bleached face skewered onto the lowest point of his staff. Captain Merrill's eyeless, open-mouthed face stared back at the Hutt. The Amanin began to talk as the translator droid performed its duty:
"Doubtless you know of the rituals mighty Jabba, but I do not expect to be understood in this matter. The bounty has been handed over. Skr'tee seeks payment."
Jabba heaved a mighty, angry sigh and cut off the protocol droid. "The killing of this rebel was my pleasure, bounty hunter not yours! Why have you brought this man back headless?"
The Amanin's head sunk, only slightly as he rumbled something in his defense. The protocol droid translated. "It began, mighty Jabba after accepting to hunt down this bounty for his exhaultedness. The story is short, but no less meaningful. The longest part of my journey consisted of tracking down the bounty, the details of which I will not bore this court with now. Suffice to say that even in the Rebellion there are those who do not hold the same ideals as their leaders. Captain Merrill was continuously surrounded by his peers and fully protected at all times, and I knew that the only time I could capture the bounty was when the bounty accepted a rescue mission to Tanteract, an Imperial prison center. Merrill was taking only a single Assault shuttle and thus he was vulnerable." Skr'tee paced around the court now, speaking not only to Jabba, but to all of the bounty hunters there.
The droid continued to translate: "I contacted the Imperial Moff responsible for the garrison on the planet to warn of the attack. I was ignored and laughed at. But this hunter would get the final laugh. I then learned through many resources of an Imperial warship en route to the Outer Rim. If the Empire would not come to me, then I would bring the Empire to me. Time had run very short, and the rescue mission was already assembling to Tanteract. The prison facility stood no chance. I had to think fast."
Skr'tee waved his arms around, Merrill's fresh head bobbed on the stick. "After tracking down the Imperial Star Destroyer travelling to the Outer Rim, I arrived to intercept the warship. With it, it had an Interdictor cruiser. And so I did the only thing I could do. I fired upon the Destroyer and sped away. The Empire, lured by the bait, pursued. Before the Interdictor could power up, I made several small jumps to keep ahead of the Empire. After each jump, I did not wait long to jump again, always staying in front. And then, after the final jump to the Tanteract system, I tarried with purpose, allowing the Empire to activate their gravity well keeping my ship within the system.
"The Empire also caught another unsuspecting animal in its trap. The starship Salvation which also carried the bounty I was hunting."
The Amanin stopped and turned to the apprentice and now seemed to finish the rest of his tale to the young creature, to ensure that the lessons being taught were being received. Skr'tee told of how he pretended to be a ship in distress and how the Salvation allowed him to dock. The bounty hunter told of how he provided a rather large distraction with the nahlee (at which Jabba rumbled laughter) and how he had made his way to the bridge. And then Skr'tee altered his story at this point saying the Empire's numerous barrages against the ship caused the death of the Captain.
"Careless of me undoubtedly, but since the bounty had already been killed, I took the bounties head as is the custom of my race." The Amanin told of how the Rebels had wounded the Interdictor cruiser, which allowed his ship to jump to hyperspace. "And so ended my task." The protocol droid bowed low when he finished translating and remained that way until Jabba spoke. "And so, now I seek payment."
The Hutt stared silently at Skr'tee, puffing on his pipe contemplating the story. No one moved, or dared to breathe for fear of breaking the silence. The Hutt did not smile, nor laugh, he did nothing except speak one word: "Music."
After what seemed to be an eternity of silence, the band started up. The protocol droid was unsure if this was a dismissal and remained bowed until Skr'tee told him to get up and report back to the ship. As Skr'tee walked away, guiding his young apprentice with several shoves, to a dark corner of the main hall, the bounty hunter received several nods of respect, but everyone kept their distance from the creature. Anyone who would willingly attack a Star Destroyer in order to catch a bounty was obviously ill in the mind. The odor of Merrill's decaying head left a stench that was noticeable above all others.
In their corner, the two beings conversed in their own language.
Skr'tee never complimented anyone, but was impressed nevertheless. But there was suspicion now in his eyes; perhaps this runt learned too well, too fast.
The young apprentice sipped at his ale, eyes roving the audience chamber, eyes finally falling on Jabba. He did not answer, for speech was allowed only when granted. The apprentice didn't even nod. While the runt sipped his ale, Skr'tee lifted a small satchel he had draped over his shoulder and put it on the table. Seeing this, the runt did the same, it was always customary to show and sometimes trade heads after a hunt story. The runt's satchel was much smaller, less time worn, made of nahlee skin. Skr'tee's was much larger and made of some unknown substance, perhaps the skin of some creature the runt had never encountered. The runt eyed it with envy.
Without a word Skr'tee unpacked the contents of the sack, some of the heads were generations old, others were fresher kills of very little value.
Shyly, the smaller Amanin pulled out a few tiny skulls including a Ranat and an Ithorian. The heads were average, but the bounty hunter noticed that the runt was reluctant to divulge the last content of the sack. Angered, Skr'tee swiped all of the heads off of the table, including his own. They flew across the booth, shattering against a stone wall.
Skr'tee was silent for a very long time as he pulled the final head out of the runts sack, a head the runt was trying to hide. Envy now entered Skr'tee's eye. The creature spoke, voice low with admiration of the piece:
'I should ask where this was found, but I think the answer is coming in due time,' he thought.
Skr'tee said nothing as he left the audience chamber, leaving the runt behind where he would stay kneeling for several hours, until Skr'tee sent the protocol droid to retrieve him. Well after the Amanin was gone, Bib Fortuna came over to the apprentice and speaking Amanish, beckoned the runt to stand before Jabba.
Fortuna's fanged smiled did little to soothe the creature.
Skr'tee spent the next several days at Jabba's Palace (after sending the runt back to Maridun for more studies) during one of the largest parties he had ever attended. Several days ago, Fett had brought in a wonderful bounty in a most peculiar way. And this entire party had seemed to be in honor of the captured Corellian. Skr'tee spent much of that night with Ephant Mon. They had known each other for years, and were both highly respected in all of Jabba's minions, a very short but prestigious list of characters: Boba Fett, Bib Fortuna, Ephant Mon and Skr'tee. Although Skr'tee never associated with Fett, the head hunter always kept one red eye on Fett, for he knew that one day the Mandalorian would be after him, one never kept good grace with Jabba forever. Perhaps that was why Skr'tee spent so much time with Ephant Mon, the only creature in the galaxy who had lasted so long alongside Jabba. Skr'tee had little respect for Mon, the poor creature was never seen bringing in a bounty, he always kept to the shadows, and seemed to do nothing in the way of entertainment.
'Why does Jabba keep this creature around? What use does he serve?'
Occasionally, Skr'tee had seen Jabba and Mon speaking for several hours, but the hunter did not know the subject of these conversations.
'Some tale Mon must have to receive such graces from the bloated one. A fine tale indeed. And what a magnificent head you have, Mon. Far better than any of your races'. Perhaps one day you will be on the Hutt's wanted list and Skr'tee will come collecting.'
On the final day of the Amanin's stay there was an escape attempt, albeit sloppy, and the party moved on to the Dune Sea. But it was time Skr'tee returned to the runt to complete his training.
'Pity, self would have enjoyed seeing Fett's bounty get tossed the Sarlacc.'
* * * * *
The nahlee broke from the green and yellow foliage, bringing down trees with each mighty step. Skr'tee found himself racing at full speed away from the pet, under yet another thunderstorm that Maridun was accustomed to. Each time thunder cracked, the nahlee gave another triumphant and deafening roar. The Amanin continued to run, hand clasping his injured side. He barely kept ahead of the nahlee, for running on both legs was not easy for Skr'tee. And he needed both hands to swing through the forest with any speed, but he could not lest he removed his hand from his side and let his guts spill to the ground. The bounty hunter chanced a glance behind and could still see chunks of his yellow-green flesh in the nahlee's teeth. Now weaponless, the Amanin made his way deeper into the forest, hoping that the thick darkness would provide cover from the rabid nahlee. Skr'tee continued to fire thought commands at the rampaging creature, but to no avail. And wherever he ran, the nahlee followed, which was no wonder at all, for they could see into each other's minds. But when these creatures became excited it was difficult to read theirs.
Skr'tee had never had difficulty making the nahlee obey, it seemed as though something else was controlling it as it splashed through muddy rain puddles.
Hot breath caressed his spine. Skr'tee squealed as the nahlee's mouth clamped down on his leg. With a snap of its neck, the nahlee tossed the Amanin around like a rag doll. Skr'tee could feel the monster's teeth rubbing against each other inside his flesh. He raked his long-spiked fingers across the nahlee's right eye, drawing blood and rage. The nahlee roared in fury, jaws opening wide, but Skr'tee was still skewered by the creature's bottom fang. With all of his might, Skr'tee pulled his leg free with a scream that drowned out the nahlee's. The Amanin fell to the ground. Fighting a bout of darkness descending, he struggled to his feet and took off again, this time in the opposite direction.
The bounty hunter found a clearing and made his way to it, knowing that this would make himself open to another attack. But Skr'tee knew these parts well and if he could make it past the clearing, the hunter may be able to regroup. The nahlee suddenly appeared in his path from a mighty leap; lunging at the hunter, it's mouth came crashing down. But Skr'tee had moved quicker and the giant mouth found only a tree. The nahlee ripped the tree out of the ground, roots and all and thrashed its head back and forth as though it had found a live prey. Confused, the creature dropped the tree and continued the chase.
Skr'tee made it through the clearing and was now running to a marsh, where he knew a place where he could be safe. A red flash of lightening streaked across the black sky, the rain came down harder. The marsh was alive with all sorts of activity and sounds. A small pinch at the back of the Amanin's neck made him curse. He slapped at the insect that had attached itself to his skin, squishing it beneath his mighty palm. Removing his hand, the bounty hunter saw the large insect that had been crushed.
'Garnesh are out in swarms tonight.'
Knowing that nahlee's were not afraid of water, the Amanin dove into the oil-dark water and sent a clear mental image to his pet. Through the water, Skr'tee could hear the creature's muffled roar, followed by a giant splash. The Amanin continued to swim into the depths, his neck gills working overtime, and did not stop until he was sure the chase had ended. Moments later the hunter broke to the surface to see the nahlee waist deep in water rocking back and forth with rage. It's tiny arms pinwheeled madly. Its stout tail slammed against the surface of the water, sending great sheets of swamp water into the air.
Just as the hunter had planned, the nahlee's great bulk had disturbed several hives of garnesh, angering them into a swarm that attacked the creatures bulk. A thick cloud of hungry insects hovered around the nahlee, infuriating the creature. The nahlee crashed to one knee from the thousands of bites it received. The Amanin dove back under the surface and swam toward the poor tortured creature. Seeing in its mind eye, the nahlee saw its master swimming toward it, but being filled with pain was unable to defend itself. Skr'tee leapt from the depths, hands reaching for the nahlee's jaw. Placing a great foot on the nahlee's belly, the Amanin yanked at the jaw. Stubbornly, it did not move, only creaked as the animal tried to thrash its head out of the Amanin's grasp. One hand broke free, but Skr'tee quickly recovered.
The garnesh were biting Skr'tee now, but he ignored them. The nahlee slowly weakened, and Skr'tee found that he could pull the creature's jaw easier now. The nahlee fell to it's other knee and the Amanin made his move. With a thunderous crack, the mouth of the nahlee snapped in two places, spewing forth a river of blood onto Skr'tee and making the garnesh frenzy. Exhausted, Skr'tee waded away from the dead beast and away from the garnesh, wondering how he had gotten into this predicament in the first place...
...Skr'tee had arrived on Maridun hours late, deterred by Fortuna and then by Jabba commanding the bounty hunter to stay and for the Sarlacc's feeding. Skr'tee explained that he would not survive the heat of Tatooine's two suns at the height of the day. With that, Jabba allowed for his leave. As he raced home through hyperspace, the Amanin was uneasy with how he was not forced to watch Solo's death as so many had been. It was unlike Jabba to give in so easily, especially when it came to another's discomfort. But his mind was focused on the runt, he wished to hunt down the runt and watch his progress from a distance. Clearly the runt had aide in his studies, coached by another in fact. Skr'tee wanted to discover whom.
It had not taken the bounty hunter long to find the apprentice, but where he found him was quite shocking. There was a cave, not far from Skr'tee's home that housed the Scour. It was here, inside the cave that he kept most of his treasured heads (a Duros, a Whaladon, and even a Hutt). The runt had been standing at the entrance to the cave; the Scour had been moved out of the cave and left under the gray skies. The runt was admiring the ship, running his growing fingers across the bottom of the ship. On the ground were a couple of heads that the runt had been instructed to hunt.
'Impossible, no runt could hunt such creatures so timely. This runt has had help.'
The Amanin used his staff to clear away some of the forest before him.
From the hidden section of his staff, a small blaster fell to the ground. He was about to pick it up when a loud crash was heard from behind. Skr'tee turned to see his attacker and was nearly paralyzed by shock. It was the nahlee, no doubt feeling his own rage at the young apprentice. But Skr'tee had been wrong, there were no thoughts in the nahlee's mind but blind red rage. Before the Amanin could react, the nahlee had turned its head and chomped down on the creature's side, ripping out a large chunk of flesh.
Skr'tee stumbled back, losing his precious staff, still missing a third head. And from there, things turned dark.
Skr'tee pulled himself onto the far bank of the marsh and sat for several minutes applying mud to his various wounds. He was a skilled healer as well as a hunter, although he knew he would be spending several weeks in a bacta tank after this hunt was complete. A laser blast rang out, forcing the hunter to jump to his feet and take to the forest again. Between the darkness, the thunder and lightning and now the laser blasts, the Amanin could not concentrate well, nor plan for escape. He still did not know his attacker; the Amanin had several enemies undoubtedly, but which one?
The injured creature's trek had brought him full circle, back to his land. He raced immediately to the Scour where he had several weapons stored and could defend himself. Skr'tee raged at the vessel for it would not open to his personal codes. Each one had been changed. Without another thought, the bounty hunter made his way to the Skipray. Skr'tee did not travel very far when his enemy appeared in the darkness, outlined in a flash of red lightning.
The runt stood at the edge of the clearing wielding Skr'tee's staff in one hand and in the other a modified rifle. A crazed glare had entered the runt's eyes, but he did not speak.
The Amanin rumbled another laugh.
The rain continued to pelt the two creatures.
The runt shook his head no.
Skr'tee screamed a curse to the rumbling skies, so loud and aggressive, that the runt stepped back uncertainly.
The runt shook his head no.
The runt's eyes narrowed unveiling his contempt for Jabba.
A laser blast nicked his pointed head, but the Amanin had tough skin and Skr'tee kept running. And then he saw the weapon he dropped before the day had unraveled itself. Stopping, the creature bent down and picked it up. The Amanin howled again, his voice filled the forest, poring in from every trail and every path. Skr'tee then disappeared into the foliage. A few seconds later the runt raced down the path, passing by his prey without knowledge. Skr'tee stepped from his hiding place and fired a shot into the runt's hand. The blaster fell and went off. Turning, the runt faced his attacker.
Skr'tee was still laughing as he adjusted the setting on his weapon.
The runt tossed the staff, landing just out of the Amanin's reach. Skr'tee chuckled at this and reached for it, never taking his eyes off of the apprentice. The runt turned and ran at that moment, but another laser blast to the young Amanin's spine brought him down. Their nervous system differed far from a human and the blast merely immobilized the creature, instead of killing him outright. Skr'tee came forward, walking proud with his staff in his hand once again.
* * * * *
The Amanin strode through the halls of Jabba's Palace ignoring the looters and the chaos that had descended upon the crimelord's home. He walked with his staff, newly adorned with a third head that added another three feet to its length. A thick nahlee skin bandaged his side. A spidery droid scattered by.
'So many monks this day does not bode well at all. I must speak with Jabba, to be sure that Jabba was not behind this treachery. And if Jabba is not, then Jabba must hear of Isleff's evils.'
Struggling to keep up with the bounty hunter was the protocol droid who translated the Amanin's every word: "You there, thief!"
A Ranat stopped to look at the droid that spoke to him in his own language. "Jabba is dead! His place is free to loot! Take yours while you can, for the monks are already sealing off the palace."
The droid knocked the Ranat down with its great metal hand; the creature's spoils scattered across the ground. Skr'tee continued to walk toward the main audience chamber ignoring the screams of the Ranat as his head was separated from his body by the protocol droid. Perhaps Fortuna would have some contacts for him.
And then the halls echoed with a booming bass-like laugh.
Skr'tee raced forward, the heads on his staff swaying slightly with every stride. The laugh was the unmistakable laughter of a Hutt. Skr'tee noticed a thin trail of green slime leading down the hall, and turning toward the hangar bays, where Jabba's Sail Barge had set sail only days ago.
Skr'tee was too late, however. A desert skiff launched itself away from the Palace, even as it disappeared, Skr'tee could see that it was Isleff. The Hutt was covered from head to tail in an ebony cloak, unheard of for a Hutt, but Isleff rarely showed himself in public, and even then he covered himself. The Hutt's laughter echoed back to him, a haunting chuckle that mocked the Amanin. A laugh that said: 'I was the one responsible for taking your apprentice away', a laugh that said: 'Jabba cannot protect you now', a laugh that said: 'Never sleep, never let your guard down, because your head will be mounted on my palace doors if you do'.
The Amanin balled his fingers into a fist, sharp claws drawing blood from his palms. Standing proud next to Isleff was another Amanin. The headhunter bore a staff with three magnificent heads on it as well. Skr'tee could not make out the creatures face from the glare of the sun, but the bounty hunter knew that there was more to the runts story that had not been told. Much more.
Skr'tee stood in the shadow of the bay, leaning on his staff with all of his weight. The twin suns of Tatooine blazed from above, a dust storm was rising in the distance swallowing Isleff the Hutt's desert skiff, leaving the Amanin to stand and wonder at the new developments.
It would not end here.
- TO BE CONTINUED -