Ransom

Coruscant, Wild Bantha Casino, Sector 23

30.8 ABY

Everything was playing out according to plan.

Out of money, I'd stolen two protocol droids from a warehouse when I arrived on Coruscant, wiping their memories. Next, I'd sent out the message to the Jedi that I had the Jewel, and that for a dead drop payment of six-hundred thousand credits, it could be theirs. So, I'd waited for six days, and now was the time for action.

I'd seen the Jedi, a Twi'Lek with orange skin, make his way into the same casino I'd sent the message from, disguised as a pilot. Anyone with the proper training, I'd thought, could spot a Jedi. They moved differently.

Jedi Knight Zesha Lothar was one of the New Jedi Order's healers, and by his accomplishments during the Yuuzhan Vong War, I'd consider him a good one. Along with him, there was also his Padawan, a young Anzatian boy, who was posing as if he were part of a too-well behaved group of students on tour of the casino. I'd left under his nose, not being recognized, and then placed the jewel inside the chest plate of the first protocol droid. Since, I'd sent the droid into the casino, where it placed a communicator on the Jedi's table, walked out, and waited. The second was waiting as ordered a few blocks away. I then dialed up the Jedi. First, the alien male had been hesitant to answer, then he reluctantly sighed and picked up the mic.

"You must be the Blue Fox," he'd said, calm and friendly as if we were discussing weather, "You've got quite the reputation."

"Cut the crap," I spat, leaning over the edge of a casino roof a quarter mile down the street, Tenloss Disruptor sighted in on the droid who would pick up my cash, "Head outside, pay the protocol droid with the red stripe on his arm the full amount, six hundred thousand in hard currency. The droid will walk away, you will not follow him. You will then remove your lightsaber from your belt," I paused, remembering my teachings of the Jedi, "I understand that your weapon has sentimental value. This, I understand, and thus I will not ask you to throw it away. You will give it to your Padawan learner, who will then go back inside the casino. A second droid will then approach you, with a blue stripe on his arm, and you will receive your Jewel. Any deviation from this plan will result in death, lots of unnecessary death. Are we clear?"

The Jedi didn't answer. Truthfully, I had no desire to kill innocent people. However, I had installed two small explosive charges on the sides of two speeders in a less populated area around the right side of the casino, just in case.

I heard a sigh break the silence, as if the Jedi hadn't already planned for this and wasn't just searching for a loophole, "Alright, you have a deal, Mr. Fox. I'm heading outside now."

I tightened my grip on the rifle.

There was no chance in hell that I was going to land a solid shot on the Jedi from this distance, not one that he wouldn't dodge or deflect, but it was worth the risk. Jedi and Sith were not the most elite of the elite in the galaxy for no reason, and I refused to treat this exchange lightly. As the Praetorian Program had taught me, "Treat every scenario like your last scenario". It was good advice, and I stuck to it. I was about to conduct business with the New Jedi Order, arguably the most powerful faction in the galaxy today. The Empire, controlling about a quarter of the galaxy, pretended that they'd soon rebound and crush the Alliance, and that the Jedi were nothing. They were wrong. The Jedi were the best, no doubt. They had a long, powerful, proud history as being the best diplomats, warriors, and scholars that the galaxy had ever seen, and I was not about to take them lightly. Luke Skywalker had done an incredible job in teaching the newest Jedi in the ways of the Force, and where he could not instruct them, he taught himself, and then passed his knowledge onto them.

He was an admirable man, no doubt.

Motion through my scope brought my attention back to the job at hand.

The Jedi Knight was standing by the first droid, holding a satchel in one hand, his lightsaber in the other. I admired it for a moment, noticing that it was far nicer than the one I owned, and slightly jealous at the same time. For the qualified personnel within the Galactic Alliance, those who met the top security clearance, could get a lightsaber for about three grand. Expensive, but not impossible. The difficulty came into play with the fact that almost nobody other than the Jedi met that level of clearance. And to be caught buying or selling one without that permission was a life sentence in prison. So, naturally, to buy one black market would run you about thirty thousand credits. Boba Fett had been desperate to get rid of the one he had, and sold it to me for sixteen thousand. I, upon receiving it, had used it to steal the Jewel, and then removed the tracking device from the pommel, which had already been disabled.

The Twi'lek handed his weapon to the Padawan, who then bolted back inside. Upon seeing the first droid, the Jedi's eyes darted from side to side, scanning for wherever I might be. Then, he closed them, clearly reaching in with the Force to find me. I keyed the mic, "Don't do that, Jedi, or I blow a speeder to smithereens right on the main street."

The Jedi sighed, and opened his eyes, "It sounds like you're not being very friendly. Very well," he placed the satchel at the protocol droid's feet. The droid touched the bag with the density scanner I'd welded onto his wrist, and then nodded, obviously content that there was hard currency chips in there. The Jedi gave up too easy...

I tapped an icon on my datapad, and the droid threw the bag back at the Jedi's feet, who appeared surprised.

"You're good, Jedi," I said, "But these are tracked chips. They're just a fraction too light to be actual chips. I want the real money," I sighed, wishing that the damn Jedi had made this easy, "I do my job and all that it entails. I understand this places us at opposites now, but later we very may well be on the same team. I have respect for the Jedi, and the Sith, and refuse to kill either unless I have to. Only a select few others in the entire galaxy can say they're truly safe from my skills. And most of all, I try to stay neutral between factions. So why is it so hard to just pay me for my work?"

The Jedi smiled, "You don't kill Jedi? You attacked Secura, did you not?"

"No," I replied, keeping calm, "He attacked me, and paid for it. I stunned the captain, but I didn't kill him. I almost killed Wedge Antilles, so I hear, but he survived, he's a strong man."

The Jedi nodded to himself, and the Padawan walked back out onto the casino's front steps, handing him a second satchel. "A mercenary with a conscience? How rare."

"I'm one of a kind," I grinned to myself despite the seriousness of the situation, "Pay me, now. Or I break my word and kill a lot of people who just want to enjoy their gambling."

The Jedi waved a hand, setting the satchel at the droid's feet again, "We don't need any of that."

The droid scanned the bag, twice this time. I read the printout on my datapad, satisfied that they were legit, and then ordered my droid to march off into the crowd, towards the area where I would collect. After scanning the area, I was satisfied that the Alliance had been sensible enough to send Lothar alone on this mission, and not have the usual obvious security guys blending in. I ordered the second droid to march in, and the Jedi stared at him.

"Where's this Jewel?" he asked over the mic.

I didn't answer, instead taking aim on the droid's head. I fired, the white-phosphorous bolt striking home. The droid collapsed, his chest plate swinging open. The Jedi snatched the Jewel and stashed it in his flight suit. The Padawan darted out into the crowd of now panicked gamblers, and handed his mentor's weapon to him, both blue lightsabers flaring into existence.

I checked my datapad, the first protocol droid's scanners showing nobody near him within a hundred yards as he made his way to the DarkRider. Content, I thumbed the detonator on the speeders, the thunderous blasts echoing through the streets, startling drivers on the airways. The Jedi flinched, preparing to engage. "Thank you for your business, Jedi Knight Zesha Lothar, I wish the best for you and your Padawan, Osirius Vann."

I placed a timed charge on my equipment, and made my way back to my ship.

...

...

Sal Sagev, Devenada.

30.8 ABY.

Sal Sagev, on the resort planet of Devenada.

Some called this Casino city "Sin City", but I found it to my liking.

In the two weeks since Coruscant, since I'd made a fortune, I'd banked all but a few thousand credits, which I used to buy my three day retreat. I'd spent the first two days gambling, drinking, and making good use of the female companionship offered here at the casinos. Today, I just wanted to relax. I had a job I planned on taking, a security job offered by a middle class shipping company on an independent system in the Corellian Sector. It seemed easy enough, and for ten thousand credits, a massive sum of money, I had but to escort the planet's governor for a weekend, from place to place. Easy enough.

I lowered myself into a heated pool, roughly twenty feet in either direction. The pool was on the balcony-porch of my suite, overlooking lush rolling fields of wild wheat, and a clear lake in the distance. I was completely relaxed. Though, despite my relaxation, I still kept my E-12 pistol under my towel.

A good idea.

After about an hour, I dozed off, preparing to spend the entire morning as such. It was then that I heard the metallic boots thud loudly on the stone balcony, causing me to leap over to my towel, preparing to waste whoever was intruding. A blaster bolt struck the towel inches from my hand, vaping it.

"Don't do that," the dark voice barked, "You'll only make me have to kill you."

I slowly turned towards the voice, recognizing it instantly.

Standing on the site of my now interrupted hot tub soak, was Boba Fett, garbed in his Madalorian armor. He holstered his pistol at his side, and stood facing me, as if waiting for a response. I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off abruptly.

"I chose you," he started, "Don't forget that."

I sighed, now sure he wasn't here to assassinate me, "For what, exactly? I'm on leave, in case you can't see under that helmet."

Fett stepped closer, probably wanting nothing more than to cave my head in. "I don't like you, at all. I think you're arrogant, and reckless. However," he held up a gloved hand, "You're good...better than almost any other. I considered another, should you decline, though he's not as good. Your work getting the Jewel of Dathomir was impressive, and my employer is equally impressed. You've had smaller, less important jobs, but you've performed them with surgical precision, never a loose end. We like that."

It was pointless asking who his employer was, or how he knew all that, so I remained silent.

"Fortunately for you," Fett continued, "You've got some protection. Cameras can't see you, you're all static. You don't show up on a life form scanner, you have no fingerprints, no DNA to recognize. You're invisible, one hundred percent. That's technically impossible."

"I'm full of surprises."

Fett snorted. "I bet," he leaned against the doorway leading back into my suite, "I've been offered a job, a nasty one. I don't want it, you won't either. It's a suicide mission, but the pay is too high for me to ignore. It involves a lot of shooting, a guarantee that you'll be marked up from head to toe, and a high chance you'll be dragged into a series of catacombs and eaten alive in the dark," He nodded at me, "You in?"

I allowed a wry smile, "You answer three questions first, and we'll talk. First, which side are we working for?"

"Imperials."

I nodded, "Payout?"

"A total of a hundred thousand, which I'll split sixty-forty-"

"Fifty-fifty, or find someone else."

Fett clenched a fist, "Fine, half it is. In Standard credits."

I nodded again, content, "And what type of job is this?"

Fett shrugged, as if he were unsure, "I would call it security. But it's more of a bug hunt."

I scowled. I loathed the idea of protecting someone, or a group, against some backwater bug species, it was the worst kind of work. Still...a hundred thousand was a lot to pay for such a job.

"I'm in, give me the details."

Fett turned and walked into the suite, where I followed.

...

...

Twenty minutes later, I was dressed in my full gear, pulling my flight jacket over my concealed pistol. I decided to bring along my assault rifle, just in case this got serious. Fett was standing by the table in the dining room.

When I walked in, he placed a holoplayer on the table, which projected a 3D image of a base, with a series of catacombs beneath it.

"This is on Yukantar, just outside the Outer Rim, in Unknown Space. This base is a listening post, and apparently the stormtroopers there have been going missing. A week ago, the technicians discovered that they had an arachnite infestation."

I let out a low whistle, now seeing why someone like Boba Fett brought backup. Arachnites were your common spider, essentially, except that they were four to six feet tall on average. They had no home planet that anyone was aware of, though they popped up in various locations, forming hives and driving entire cities to extinction.

"We've been hired to go in and wipe them out. The only way to do that is to travel down into the center of the hive, and plant seismic charges. That'll ensure that the breeders don't make it to the surface. Once that's completed, we pack up and leave. This particular hive isn't that large, but the spiders inside have already cost the Empire a great deal," Boba Fett snatched his player off the table, "I'm leaving today, to meet with the Imperials a day before you. I've worked with them before, and they won't fire on me. You, they just might. I'll clear your landing. Be there in a week."

I nodded, suddenly nervous.

Nobody other than the Emperor or Lord Vader knew of our secret training base, and we started the Praetorian Program after they died. The only ones who could ever identify me or theDarkRiderwere long dead...

But still, the idea of being detected loomed like a shadow over everything I'd built.

You need this money. Take the damn job. Just make sure Fett's not leading you into some Imperial ambush.

I sighed, and then nodded, extending a hand. Boba stared at it through the opaque visor of his helmet, and then strode back out onto the balcony, taking off with his jetpack.

I shrugged, and sat down at the table and began to clean and inspect my gear.

"That guy's a tool."

...

...

Aboard the DarkRider, Space over Yukantar

30.8 ABY

Six Standard Days Later

The trip was not as long as I thought it would have been, the advanced hyperdrive carting me across the galaxy a day faster than any normal ship of that size might have been capable of. I'd spent the day cloaked in orbit, the ship's technology hiding my presence one hundred percent. I'd even watched Fett come out of hyperspace aboard his ship, the Slave II.

I'd run the planet's history through the computer, learning that on Yukantar, an agricultural planet dedicated mostly to industrialized farming, the air was slightly thinner than the Galactic Standard of Living, but my being a Chiss, I shouldn't be affected. The gravity was the same as Standard, but the planet was well known for wind storms and violent pounding rain. The landscape was primarily rocky, craggy and inhospitable. The farms were located in the sparse valleys, where valuably rich soil provided pristine crops. The base in question was on the edge of one such valley, an area that saw almost daily rainfall in torrential downpours that flooded some of the catacomb tunnels and created stagnant pools in the caves, where a type of mushroom grew, one that was considered a delicacy on many worlds.

I checked my chrono, seeing it was time to land.

Removing the cloak, I plunged the stealth freighter into the atmosphere, towards the landing bay. As expected, a transmission broke over the comm in the cockpit.

"Unidentified freighter, transmit clearance codes now or be shot down. You are invading Imperial territory."

I inserted the datacard containing the codes Fett had beamed up to me that morning, "Transmitting codes now, Control."

After a brief hesitation, the voice returned, emotionless, "You're cleared for landing, Mr. Fox. Please land at the given coordinates."

I suppressed a grin. Fett had come through with those codes. Perhaps he wasn't planning a trap for me after all.

I eased the DarkRider down beside the Slave II, taking note of the military transport ship that was docked a few hundred yards away from a duracrete bunker, and the ship was flanked by at least thirty stormtroopers. Making my way to the main hold, my lounge, I slung my assault blaster (a Galactic Alliance Army standard issue) over my back, and holstered my matching revolvers. This time, instead of a flight jacket, I wore my armor, a project I'd been working on since the week before the Galactic Alliance stormed across Jekato and destroyed the Praetorian base. The armor was stolen Shadowtrooper armor adorned with blue tiger stripes, fitted with thigh and back holsters, and a plastoid mask, to cover the lower half of my face. I checked my revolver power cells, and that each pistol had a grenade in its sleek second under barrel. I belted on four thermal detonators and spare power packs for my weapons. Content I was ready, I lowered the ramp and stepped into the cool, moist air.

Ten yards away, Boba Fett stood in front of his ship, armored and helmed as usual.

I kept my cool, my hands in plain view so Fett wouldn't be nervous.

"You're three minutes early," he said, his dark voice carrying across the landing pad despite the wind.

I shrugged, "Your chrono is off."

I covered the distance between us, acknowledging him with a nod. Fett tipped his head, examining my armor. "Smooth," he said with an appreciative nod, then started off towards the group of Imperials, "Don't make any stupid moves, you're here representing me."

I stopped abruptly, glaring at Fett. "Listen, I can handle the Empire as good as anyone. Don't treat me like a child."

Fett didn't even slow down. "Don't give me a reason to."

I snorted, and caught back up with him, wishing I could just shoot him and be done with it. The pair of us stopped again, this time in front of thirty stormtroopers in their shining gloss armor. One trooper, with a Major's insignia on his armband, stepped forward, holding his E-11 across his chest. He extended a hand, which I shook though Fett did not.

"Boba Fett, Blue Fox," he nodded to each of us in return, and removed his helmet. He was human, looking to be about my age. He had sandy blonde hair, cold grey eyes, and a thin scar on the right side of his jaw that ran from his ear to his chin. "We've been expecting you. I'm Major Aidan Valhalla, Imperial three-twenty-second division, Special Forces. We cleared the base already, and I'm afraid it's not good. Looks like the arachnites came up through the floor, wiped everyone out before the building sealed itself. Follow us, we'll get this thing under way."

The Major barked an order at the troopers, who spun right-face and began marching in unison, without a single flaw in their appearance. The Major joined Fett and I at the rear of the column, his helmet still under one arm. "We don't usually work with mercenaries," he sighed, clearly wishing he didn't have to give this speech, "But we know that you, Fett, have experience with arachnites. We asked him to bring along a second, as backup, and he found you, Fox. We, my unit and I, mostly have field experience against the Rebels, not with this sort of thing."

I nodded, uneasy about being so close to the Empire, "I've never gone up against arachnites in particular, but I've been down in the spice mines of Kessel, and there are energy spiders there the size of a Bantha. They're mostly defensive, unlike these, but they get all jacked up on glitterstim and they become damn near impossible to kill."

The Major nodded gravely, "I know what kind of spiders you're talking about. You'll have valuable input on this one, then."

Fett remained silent and, given he had more experience as a mercenary, I followed suit.

The stormtroopers entered the base first, breaking off into tactical patterns to clear the rooms. I brought my rifle to bear, and followed the Major, Fett behind me doing likewise. I dropped to a knee beside a wall, scanning every square inch of what looked like a main lobby. Silvery-white webs coated the walls and ceiling, and the floor was littered with pools of dark, coagulated blood. A hole had been blasted into the stone floor directly in the center of the room, and was roughly six feet wide in all directions. Scrapes and gouges marked where the spiders had scurried out of the opening. There were no bodies, something I took note of. The arachnites must have taken them back as food, I thought grimly, determined to avoid such a fate. The Major lowered his E-11, and removed his helmet again (having donned it before entering). At the far end of the room, a mass of hair, legs, and pincers was flipped over on its back, charred blast points freckling its torso. I barely stopped my jaw from dropping.

The spider's legs were six feet long each, and the body must've been easily the size of an oil drum.

Beside me, I heard Fett snort. "They're bigger than you described."

The Major shrugged, "This is a small one."

Fett swore quietly, then said to me in an undertone, "This is why you try to avoid the Empire."