Title: The Binding: A Boba Fett Adventure
Author: Mr. Roboto
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the setting, just the story built around them.
Note: This is my first story, so please be brutally honest. And please review! I don't know if this is good, or crap. Also, in Ch. 2 I referred to Balmont Kan as Balmon Croyle one time. That's a result of name experimentation and not enough editing. It's Balmont Kan, as the rest of the story has referred to her.
Chapter 3
Deep within the Imperial garrison, Inquisitor Balmont Kan sat in deep meditation. Her dark eyes gave the impression one was speaking to a wizened elder, instead of a young adult. She was an imposing figure, clothed in all white, and she definitely had a certain beauty about her. Her round face and soft features would normally be considered very beautiful. But it was hard to identify. It was completely overwhelmed by her oppressive aura. It was a painful and terrible kind of beauty. An equally sinister, and silent figure slid from the shadows to join her. She opened her eyes sensing her servant's presence. The dark shadow who called himself Jamian slinked across the darkened room. Most people identified the species as a Wraith. Their true species name was Defel.
Defel Wraiths were rare creatures, and not much was known about their origins. They seemed especially attracted to those who were strong in the Force, and they had a weakness to light. It was how she had found Jamian. The creature was frail when she first found him, trapped in Coruscant's deep underlevels. Mad with hunger, he had foolishly tried to attack her. Somehow he had become stranded there, unable to escape for fear of the bright lights that encompassed the city planet night and day. She had taken him with her, and Jamian quickly grew strong, feeding off her dark energy. He was an extremely intelligent, but simple creature, motivated only by his fondness for stealth and violence. He had proven quite useful. However, that didn't make the interruption any less annoying,
"You'd better have a good reason for bothering my meditation Jamian."
The Wraith hissed in reply, "Of course, my Master. One of our . . . subjects in Mos Eisley has contacted me. It appears . . . Joran is attempting to contact Imperial Command. He managed to smuggle . . . Lieutenant Orion onto the . . . planet, and has told him about your . . . experiments."
The Inquisitor scrunched her face at the hideous sound of the Defel's voice, and the unpleasant cadence of his speech. Balmont was already aware this had all taken place of course. She didn't want even Jamian to know just how much her control had spread. But Balmont had agents in Imperial Command. It was hard to maintain a link over such distances, but not impossible. She knew Orion Astrum had been coming and who had called him.
Orion is on a fools errand.
She had heard of Lieutenant Orion before this incident. She had hoped it would be him. He had a reputation for his investigative techniques and ruthlessness that rivaled her own. If he was more ambitious Balmont would have considered allowing him in on her little scheme. Unfortunately, he was completely loyal to the Empire, and his ambition was sadly tied to that reality. He was a true believer, a waste of talent. That was what she was counting on though. No one would suspect him of treason, not a member of IntCon. It was time to start spreading her control even further.
"A minor inconvenience. We will deal with it.."
It was all part of her plan. A small sound came forth from Balmont's wristlink.
"It appears it is time to contact our esteemed Hutt associate. Our package has arrived there. I believe you have two curious Imperials to take care of? I need Orion alive. You may play with Kaeling."
Hissing with pleasure, the Wraith pulled back into the shadows, "Yes . . . Master"
Inquisitor Balmont walked over to the control panel of her private quarters. The bloated image of the Hutt Lomon appeared before her. His grotesque fat rolls shook as he spoke. Like all Hutts, he had a distinct rumble to his voice, as if his own girth was constantly choking him. Balmont often mused at a Hutt's ability to be so completely revolting, yet so admirably cunning at the same time. Though she had to admit, Lomon wasn't as gifted as most Hutts in the cunning half and a bit too well endowed in the level of revulsion he elicited in others. She had known that at the beginning though. He was trusting her after all. It took a particularly low kind of intellect to manage that. She was doing him a favor anyway. He would have been dispatched immediately by the other Hutts if she had not taken him under her wing. Of course, eventually, he would be dispatched by her, it was inevitable. It seemed Lomon had been doomed from birth, no matter which path he took.
"I hope you have good news Lomon."
The hologram clearly showed the Hutt's pudgy hands rubbing together as he spoke. In a few years, they would not even be able to touch anymore. The richer a Hutt got, the bigger they got. It was almost as if they fed off wealth itself.
"Of course Inquisitor. Fett is entering the atmosphere now. Did you really think I couldn't capture a simple bounty hunter?"
Balmont betrayed no emotion as she once again contemplated the Hutt's lack of cunning. But she knew his loyalty more than covered for his absence of vision.
"You haven't caught anything yet. Don't let me down Lomon. I'm sure the Hutt Elders wouldn't appreciate you plotting with the Empire behind their back."
Lomon looked as if he was about to say something, but thought better of it. His massive head gave a barely discernible nod,
"I'll do my part."
Balmont didn't reply, abruptly cutting off the communication. The Hutt wasn't completely devoid of intelligence after all. He knew enough not to give her any trouble. She returned to her meditation.
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Fett carefully piloted the Slave I onto the surface of Nal Hutta. He gazed out his viewport at the two battered Headhunters flanking his ship. Fett wondered at the stupidity of other creatures sometimes. Numbers weren't everything. He could have easily dispatched the two fighters, plugged a couple of missiles into Lomon's base, and made his escape into hyperspace before any other ships got off the ground. His ship was in much better shape, and had much more recent upgrades. Those fighters were sloppy and outdated, and probably piloted by slaves who would turn tail at the first sign of danger. No slave would die for its master. The Hutt invested more in his own blubber than his defense. Even at his most greedy, most other Hutts knew enough to shield themselves from assassins. Lomon's stupidity was starting to worry him. Stupid creatures with lots of power were very dangerous. But Fett knew Lomon was no match for him.
It is all about maintaining one's arsenal and one's mind. If you don't take care of your equipment, right down to the smallest detail, it won't take care of you. A Mandalorian without his armor and without his ship is just a common thug. A Hutt without brains is just a common thug. You have to have both parts. Too bad this Hutt doesn't appear to have either. But he pays well. And that's what I'm here for.
As Fett exited the ship, and entered Lomon's domain, two drooling Gamorreans moved up to escort him. The larger one hesitantly reached for his blaster pistol. Fett handed it over without protest. It was a formality, that most of his employers would not bother with. Both he and Lomon knew Fett was still well armed. It was a waste of time, a foolish assertion that Lomon was the one in command. Fett was not one to succumb to psychological games. The hunter looked at the room around him. Musicians of all varieties were playing their tunes. Drunk guests were wandering in all directions. The room was decorated with bright colors and frills. It was a cacophony of idiocy.
More ignorance. The place is too crowded. The soldiers could be cut down by snipers, while the crowd prevented the defenders from getting off a shot. There's no attention to detail here at all.
As Fett's scarred Mandalorian armor reflected in the pig-head's chest plate, Fett could see how the marks seemed to be in direct conflict of his attention to detail rule. But, like everything else with the bounty hunter, the scratches and blaster marks on his armor had a purpose. Intimidation was useful, as evidenced by the Gamorrean's hesitance to demand the Mandalorian's weapon. Over the years Fett had aged just like any other human. He was not quite as quick on the draw, not quite as strong, and not quite as fast. He was still all of those things, of course. Just a little less than before. But those small inefficiencies could mean the difference between life and death. There were things that replaced such physical losses, if one played their cards right. The wear and tear on his armor, and the very name Fett were equally useful at repelling enemies. These days it was better for him to avoid fighting. The marks were merely a façade, his armor worked as if it was brand new. But the perception they left in people were one of his strongest weapons.
Fear can do strange things to a person.
Fett ended his musings as he appeared before the Hutt. Lomon laughed heartily, as he watched the holo-image Fett had handed his major-domo, a modified protocal droid. Apparently the death of an entire Imperial Cruiser's crew amused Lomon. Fett wasn't surprised. All Hutts were greedy, and vile creatures. Although, Lomon was a little too vile for his own good. The droid translated,
"You did well Fett, though from what I've heard you usually have more subtle and creative ways of ending lives."
It was true. Client's paid extra for creativity, and blowing up a ship wasn't exactly his most creative effort. But he didn't appreciate a two-bit gangster telling him how to do his job. Fett's voice came out, with a touch of annoyance. He was sure that escaped Lomon though. The hunter rarely spoke, so his unused voice was always faint.
"Didn't you mention another target?"
Lomon laughed once again. Something about the Hutt's laughter was beginning to rub him the wrong way. It was different somehow from how Hutt's usually laughed, almost as if he was holding in a private joke. Fett always noticed details like that.
"Yes, business as always I see. I am friends with an Imperial Inquisitor on Tatooine. It seems she needs a test subject for her experiments. Someone with a strong will to test just how powerful her new procedure is."
Fett sighed beneath his helmet. Client's needed to be specific.
"I don't work like that. You have to have a name or a face. Your friend needs a slave trader."
Lomon laughed for a third time. He hated the bounty hunter before him. The man's arrogance and disrespect for a god, as many Hutt's believed themselves to be, was infuriating. His hand slammed on his dais.
"No my pompous friend. She wants you. You are a slow one aren't you?"
Fett's jaw nearly dropped off. That was the last thing he expected a coward like Lomon to say. Hutts knew better than to target bounty hunters without reason. Especially Fett. No one cared for him, of course, but powerful figures depended on his services. He was protected because he was invaluable to men like Jabba. The Hutts had strict rules about these sorts of things. Perhaps Fett had relied a bit too much on that. It was obvious Lomon wasn't joking.
My own arrogance has caught up with me. I'm getting too old.
Fett subtly brought his hands together in front of him. He had stepped in it this time. It was his second mistake in forty-eight hours. The bounty hunter was distressed about that fact more than his current predicament. Fett's weak voice emerged from his helmet again, in perhaps the longest speech he'd made in months.
"Don't be foolish Lomon. The Hutt elders would not forgive you for betraying a hunter like this. Especially me. You live on Nal Hutta, and that means they control you even more than usual. Jabba himself would think twice before pulling this, and he's light years away from such retribution. You are still a rookie at all this, don't screw up so early."
Lomon continued laughing. Fett wanted to hurt Lomon very badly. It was hard to maintain self-control. He was embarrassed at being caught in Lomon's sick joke. He had been so stupid. But he couldn't fight his way out. Not until he was in position.
"Don't worry Fett. The nature of the experiment is such that you will not disappear. No one will be the wiser. I can tell you are confused, as a lesser being would be. All will be clear in time."
Now. Time to wipe that smirk off, Hutt.
At that moment, Fett crouched down pressing the activation button on his wristlink. The Slave I was about to wipe this building off the face of Nal Hutta. Fett waited for several moments. He couldn't understand. Nothing was happening.
"Is there a problem Mr. Fett? You see, last time you were here my agents discovered that you were in constant contact with your starship. Your frequencies have been jammed. You'd think a detailed oriented bounty hunter like yourself would pay attention to that sort of thing. But I guess you were so sure your employers would protect you, you didn't think to check. What a foolish act. Take this bucket head."
Gammoreans moved in, pulling stun batons from their belts. The first one swung high, but Fett was already moving. He ducked under the blow, his armored fist breaking the beast's jaw. A second Gamorrean had charged forward. It's elbow hit Fett's back and sent them both onto the floor. Fett reached into his belt, pulling out a small holdout blaster. The shots rang out and the creature slumped off the hunter. Fett was on his feet immediately.
My only hope is to cut the head off the snake.
He began firing at each creature that came near him. But there were far too many. The first stun baton blow struck his right shoulder. The armor absorbed most of the shock. Fett fought back as more and more blows found their mark. The armor wasn't completely protecting him. Pain began to spread overh is body. He moved to activate his flamethrower, but they were swarming him. They smashed him between each other as they rained blow after blow, hitting each other as much as him. They were stupid creatures, which made this all the more difficult for Fett to stomach. Fett got out one final shot as his arm was wildly thrown from side to side. Lomon screamed in pain as his shoulder was struck by a blaster bolt. Hutt skin was thick though, and the creature's cowardly cries of pain rang loudly as the Gamorreans backed off Fett's sprawled form. His helmet had an unsightly dent squarely on the top. The Gamorreans new enough to concentrate their blows, it seemed.
"He almost killed me, you morons. Get me a medic now, before I skin you all."
Lomon continued to cry out in agony at his minor flesh wound.
"Leave his armor and helmet on. Balmont's orders. But strip them of anything remotely technological. And get me medical attention now!"
Though Lomon wanted to see the hunter's true face more than anything, he knew better than to disobey. Balmont always knew, somehow, even when he ignored the most trivial of her commands. He feared her because of her magic, but hadn't thought twice about Fett's threats. The bounty hunter was just another scumbag in a universe full of them. Lomon was two hundred years old. He didn't care if the other Hutts took insolence from Fett. Lomon was going to see to it that the Hutts ruled this universe, not the mortals. Well, he was going to see that Lomon ruled this universe at least. Men like Fett should be his slaves, not his employees.
"Remove his weapons too. Be thorough, his suit is full of hidden surprises."
As if in confirmation, a Gamorrean cried out as his hand was pierced with a deadly, poisonous dart. The suit had many traps. But there were just as many Gamorreans to test them. As Fett struggled to remain conscious he had only one final thought.
Do whatever you want to me Hutt, just don't touch my helmet. Don't you dare remove my mask. Please . . . Or I will have your heart.
Fett's anonymity was his whole life. He did not want to die as a common thug, his likeness paraded for all to mock. For the first time, the hunter felt the fear he'd so often seen in his enemies. The only thing he could think about as he fell into the darkness was what a strange feeling fear was.
