Death, Lies, and Treachery

Boba Fett stood in a cavernous repair bay near the top of Cloud City, his blaster rifle slung at an angle across his armored chest as he watched the mechanics crawl over the hull of his starship, the Slave I, trying not to stare at the silent armored warrior standing a few meters away from them. Fett knew he was making them nervous, but he did not particularly care; if knowing he was watching unsettled them and made them pay more attention to their work, so much the better. The concerns of other mortals, if he could not in some way profit from them, were of little importance to Boba Fett.

Two days ago, someone had shot down his ship while he was pursuing the Millennium Falcon. Over those two days, Fett had been investigating, trying to figure out who it was that had foiled him. The turret blast had cost him a major contract from Jabba the Hutt; despite the fact that Lord Vader had paid him anyway, even though Solo and his companions had later gotten away, the Hutt bounty on Han Solo was still substantial. Boba Fett had trained himself not to feel most emotion, but this provoked genuine anger. He had a reputation as the galaxy's most effective freelance operative, and failing to deliver on contracts was not the way to maintain it.

The shot had come from a defense turret, Fett had discerned from examining the recordings of the Slave I's external cameras. The list of suspects was short; Calrissian was out, since he had been flying the Falcon at the time, as had Solo's Wookiee companion and Organa's aide Winter. Solo himself had been frozen, and obviously hadn't contributed much of anything to his rescue. Princess Leia had been on a balcony far from the turret, so it couldn't have been her, nor was it Luke Skywalker, as he had been fighting Lord Vader deep within the city at the time.

Fett had thought it to be the traitor Mara Jade, but a last-second clip from one of his cameras as he was crashing revealed that she had also been with the Falcon, bringing Organa inside after the princess had jumped from the balcony to the waiting smuggler's vessel.

Cloud City's own internal security cameras were useless; Calrissian or one of his companions had disabled them as they were escaping from the city. Fett had already examined the area around the turret he knew had shot at him, but the evidence he had collected was scanty; the turret had been used by several others as some of Cloud City's residents foolishly tried to repel the Imperial occupation of the city. He had found fibers from a number of different garments, as well as twelve hairs, retrieved as he meticulously went over the entire turret station with every scanner his sophisticated armor possessed, as well as some others he kept aboard his ship. The preliminary comparison had revealed that five different individuals had used the turret or at least been in the area before the stormtroopers had finally captured it.

A small light flashed inside Fett's Heads-Up-Display, informing him that the DNA analysis his ship's computer had been performing on the collected hairs was complete. Fett stirred from his statue-like motionlessness and started walking toward his ship. He startled a technician, who jumped as Fett passed him; apparently, he hadn't heard the hunter coming. Fett ignored him as he went inside Slave I.

He moved quickly through the stark, utilitarian interior of his vessel, crossing to the computer which had been performing the analysis. "Report," he ordered.

The computer whirred to life, speaking the information as it simultaneously projected it on its small screen. "Analysis complete," the computer intoned in its unnaturally calm mechanical voice.

"Sample 1: Zeltron, female. Sample 2: Ugnaught, male. Sample 3: Human, male. Sample 4: Human, female. Sample 5: Talz, male."

"Results of comparison with Cloud City medical database?" Fett inquired, stepping closer to the screen.

"Three matches," the computer replied. "Human male, Ugnaught male, and Talz male. No matches for criminal records or bounties. No known association with Lando Calrissian, Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa-"

Fett interrupted the computer. "Disregard medical database results."

Whoever had made that shot would, by Fett's own analysis of what had happened, have to both be an extraordinarily accurate shot and know the structural weaknesses of Firespray-class patrol ships like Slave I. After glancing through the personnel files of the three matches, he concluded that none of them could have been the shooter; the Ugnaught was a technician, who had likely performed maintenance on the turret at some point within the last few days; the Talz was a waiter in one of the casinos, and the male human was a janitor, who might have just been cleaning up before the shooting started; there was no sign anyone had been around the turret since the stormtroopers had secured it. The probability of any of them having the required knowledge was extremely low.

That just left the human female and the Zeltron as the shooter that had disabled his ship. Fett punched up a closer examination of those two samples.

The Zeltron's hairs were a bright shade of red, typical for her species. They were long, nearly sixteen centimeters, and had recently been treated with some sort of exotic hair-care product containing oil made from bantha fat. Fett ordered the computer to analyze the traces of the hair-care product and extrapolate its brand and source while he looked at the human female's sample.

The human female's hairs were black and short, five centimeters long, treated with nothing more than ordinary shampoo. Fett ordered the computer to analyze the traces anyway. The detailed genetic analysis of the skin tag on the end of one of the human female's hairs revealed an 86% match with baseline Kuati DNA, along with 12% Alderaanian and 2% of something that could have been Coruscanti or perhaps Corellian.

Kuati; now that was interesting. Slave I had been originally manufactured at Kuat Drive Yards, and Fett had taken it back there a number of times over the course of his career for additional modifications. There was a high probability that the Kuati woman had either once worked at the Drive Yards like many of her people did, or knew someone who had, and thus would know the weak points of Firesprays.

"Match," the computer intoned. "Substance on Zeltron sample 98% match with ingredients in 'Ossberry Delight Styling Gel', manufactured by Feross Salons, Incorporated, for exclusive distribution through Feross Salons. Feross Salons has three branches open in Cloud City."

The computer displayed the locations, and since this was one of his few leads and he had nothing else to do while his ship was being repaired, Fett decided to follow up on them. He ordered the computer to perform the most thorough analysis of which it was capable on the Kuati hairs and any trace substances on them while he was out, knowing it would take several hours at least.

The analysis of the clothing fibers he had collected was not yet complete, but it shortly would be, so Fett ordered the ship's computer to send the information to his helmet's computer when it was complete.

He marched back out of his vessel and headed over to the nearest turbolift, which he set to bring him as close as possible to the closest Feross Salon.

Once the turbolift doors opened, Fett emerged next to one of Cloud City's many casinos, which was noisy and garishly lit with a number of lights in various shades of blue, extending well into the ultraviolet spectrum for customers whose senses could perceive that range. Fett ignored the casino, looking around for the salon. He spotted it, lit up with a brightly colored and flashing sign across the hall from the casino's entrance.

Fett marched across the wide, airy white hall and directly into the salon, where he was promptly assaulted by a wide variety of artificial fragrances designed to appeal to a wide variety of olfactory senses. Fett set his helmet's air filters and scrubbers to a higher setting to eliminate the scent, resolving to make his investigation here as brief as possible.

A chime sounded, triggered by a motion sensor that detected his approach, and a cheerful-looking human female with long light-colored hair turned with a smile to the salon's entrance. Upon seeing who had walked in, her smile quickly vanished, replaced by a puzzled, mostly frightened look.

"Can I, um, help you?" she said, nervously looking the armed and armored warrior up and down. He was probably carrying more weapons just on his person than she had ever seen in one place in her life.

Fett walked up to the counter and pointed at the computer next to the receptionist. "You will give me the sales records for 'Ossberry Delight Styling Gel' to female Zeltrons from this branch," he said, his voice flat and emotionless as usual. "This also includes uses of the product in treatments."

The receptionist overcame her nervousness long enough to give him a stunned look, her puzzlement almost amusing.

Almost. "Now," Fett said with just a slight hint of impatience, resting his hand on the blaster rifle slung at his side.

The woman's eyes widened, and she quickly turned to her computer to type in the information. As he looked around the rest of the salon, Fett found the stunned/surprised/terrified looks on some of the patrons and employees almost amusing, too. They'd probably never seen a Mandalorian before, especially not in their salon.

"Um, Mr.… What's your name?" came the voice of the receptionist.

"Fett," the hunter said, turning back around. "Boba Fett."

The already pale woman paled even further, swallowing nervously. "Uh, Mr. Fett, there's only one Zeltron who buys what you were looking for here. Her name's Rexa, and she works in the club on the lower level of the casino across the way."

"Would she be on duty right now?" Fett asked, already suspecting this would turn out to be a waste of his time. Still, ignoring a potential lead was never a good idea.

"Probably," the receptionist answered. "I don't really know her all that well."

"Thank you for your assistance," Fett said, digging into a pouch at his belt. The woman flinched, almost making Fett smirk in amusement again as he brought out his hand. He flipped her a five-credit chit, and she caught it out of reflex, looking back at him with a surprised expression.

With almost military precision, Fett spun on his heel and marched back out of the salon, all too glad to leave it behind. As he was leaving, the sensitive audio pickups in his helmet caught the receptionist speaking quietly but excitedly into a comlink.

"Hello, Sharyn? Yeah, it's me. You will never believe who I just talked to!"

Beneath his helmet, Boba Fett finally did allow himself a smirk.

A bouncer with more muscle than brains attempted to keep Fett out of the club in the casino, but quickly realized his mistake when Fett stopped and stared him down, despite the nearly twenty centimeters' difference in their height. Looking back into an inscrutable black visor accompanied by an armory's worth of weapons tended to do that to most sentients. After a tense moment, the bouncer stepped aside.

Rexa was one of the club's bartenders, his helmet computer's remote slice of the club's central computer revealed. Her medical records did not appear in the central city database because the casino and the lower-level club were owned by an off-planet corporation, which had its own records. Fett set the helmet computer to slice deeper into the records to get more information while he talked to the Zeltron himself.

The interior of the club was dark, lit only with black-lights and strips of material responsive to that wavelength. Bright, softly glowing strips of green, orange and blue ran in angular patterns along the walls and in paths on the floor, directing patrons to the bar and the tables and booths in the back. The center of the club was cleared for use as a dance floor, which several sentients were making use of, flailing their assorted limbs, tentacles, and other appendages in time to the thumping, driving, bass-heavy music. Fett could feel the music more through the vibrations it was causing in the floor than he could hear it; he set his audio sensors to filter it out.

The Zeltron woman was at the bar, easily distinguishable by the way her bright red hair and pink skin glowed under the black-lights. Her teeth also glowed bright white, as evidenced when she grinned broadly at one of the patrons who paid for a drink and tipped generously. Her uniform was decorated with more of the neon-bright strips, which ran in patterns that accentuated her curves.

"Hey, a Mandalorian!" she said as Fett walked up to the bar. "We don't get… well, any of you guys in here. What can I get you?"

"You are Rexa, correct?" Fett said, casually placing one hand on the top of the blaster rifle slung at his side.

Unperturbed, Rexa grinned even more broadly, tugging gently on a strand of bright red hair. "That's me." Her grin slowly faded. "You're not here to drink, and you're definitely not here to dance." It was not a question, but an observation; Zeltrons had mild empathic abilities, which meant that they could sense the emotions of those around them.

"You fired one of the defense turrets during the Empire's occupation of the city," Fett said, placing one armored gauntlet on the bar. "When?"

Rexa cast a glance around the bar. "Um, I'd prefer if that didn't get around, yeah? The Imps probably didn't appreciate being shot at, y'know?"

Fett nodded slightly, gesturing with his other hand at one of the booths several meters away. Rexa turned and called to the other bartender that she was taking her break, then followed him to the booth. Fett activated the booth's noise-canceling field, which had the added benefit of muting the music, as well as making their conversation inaudible to anyone outside it.

"You're not checking me out for the Empire, are you?" Rexa asked nervously as she sat down.

Fett placed both hands on the table between them. "No," he replied. "The reward would not be worth my time. I am interested only in information."

Rexa twirled a strand of hair around her finger again. "So then, what do you want to know?"

"Someone shot down my ship," Fett said coldly. "I would like to know who."

Rexa's light pink skin flushed darker, a sign of nervousness. "W-Well, it wasn't me," she said quickly. "I was shooting at the dropships and TIE fighters."

Fett interlocked his gloved fingers, leaning back in the booth slightly. "Did you see the person who used the turret before you?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it was a human girl, maybe about my height, with short dark hair." Rexa let out a light, amused snort. "Funny thing was, she was dressed like a Sith. I was wondering about that, but I didn't stop to talk to her, 'cause she looked like she was in a hurry, and I didn't want to be on the wrong end of a lightsaber, if you get what I'm saying."

Sith? Now that was odd. Why would one of Lord Vader's students be shooting at him? That was cause for further investigation, and a valuable clue.

Fett withdrew another five-credit chit from his belt and slid it across the table to Rexa, who stared at him in puzzlement. "Thank you for your assistance," Fett said as he got up. He paused and turned to look back at her. "I would advise against resisting the Empire further," he added. "There is little you could do to drive them from this city, and if they did leave, they would just destroy you once their troops were withdrawn."

"Uh… okay," Rexa said, giving him another puzzled look.

Fett quickly left the club and its pounding music behind, headed back to his ship.

Just as he entered Slave I, the computer alerted Boba Fett that it had finished its analysis of the clothing fibers. Confirming Rexa's story, some of the fibers were indeed from the fabric generally used to make Sith robes.

Fett then set his computer to abandon the search for more information about the Zeltron and programmed it to slice into the records for all security cameras in the sections the Imperials had been in before Solo and his companions arrived and during their detainment. He set the search parameters to isolate any humans of Kuati facial features, then went up to the cockpit to sit in the pilot's chair and think.

Boba Fett had been in the freezing room with Lord Vader and Jade while the preparations to freeze Solo had been made, and during that time, he knew a young Sith woman had come in several times to report to the Emperor. Fett remembered she had dark hair, but hadn't been paying much attention to her at the time.

Why would a Sith want to shoot down his ship? Was the young woman a traitor, secretly trying to aid the Rebellion? Or perhaps, considering that Vader's apprentice Darth Nova had been aboard Slave I at the time, had she been attempting to eliminate a rival? Considering what he knew of the Sith, the latter possibility was more likely, though her being a double agent was also highly probable.

"Search complete," the computer intoned. "Displaying results."

Fett looked over at the screen, and confirmed his suspicion; the dark-haired Kuati woman who had been at the turret was indeed the same one who had reported to Vader before Solo was frozen.

"Cross-reference with Imperial personnel database," Fett ordered.

"Searching," the computer replied. "Search complete. Displaying files."

The young woman's name was Malysa Kolos, and according to her Imperial personnel file, she had been recruited three years ago after capture at Tatooine. At the time, she had been a Jedi under the tutelage of one Master Sunrider, who was listed as deceased, killed by Lord Vader during the battle. The file went on to say that after being personally reeducated by Lord Vader, Kolos had sworn herself to the Sith Order and the Emperor. Since then, she had mostly been stationed aboard the Executor, but had been sent on classified assignments multiple times.

Fett went back to the section on Kolos's known background. She was originally from the planet Kuat, the daughter of technicians who worked in the orbital shipyards. She had one brother, Tyraj, who also had an Imperial personnel file; he was listed as a stormtrooper serving in the 501st Legion. Tyraj Kolos, trooper number TK-421, also served aboard the Executor along with all the other members of Vader's Fist.

Malysa Kolos had been captured at the same time as Leia Organa, shortly before the Battle of Yavin, when Vader seized control of Alderaan in response to finally proving the Organas were members of the Rebellion. In fact, Kolos had been captured aboard the Tantive IV, since Organa had apparently been attempting to bring Kolos, her master, and the fellow student who had also been killed by Vader to the Rebellion; they had evidently only stopped at Tatooine to pick up Obi-Wan Kenobi and Luke Skywalker, who had been hiding there before Han Solo brought them to Alderaan, where they rescued the Organas before Vader could execute them.

There was no official confirmation that Kenobi and Skywalker had been on Tatooine, but since Fett personally knew Solo had been there just before the Millennium Falcon was seen on Alderaan, and it was highly unlikely he had stopped anywhere else first, there could not be any other place where the Corellian smuggler could have encountered the Jedi.

If Kolos had been a Jedi before her capture, it was certainly possible that she was a double agent trying to help the Rebellion now. When she shot down his ship, it had prevented him from capturing the Millennium Falcon, which had rescued Leia Organa from the city along with the rest of Solo's companions. Could Kolos have aided Organa and the others because the Alderaanian princess once tried to help her?

Or was it the other possibility? Kolos could have been turned to the Dark Side by Darth Vader, and was now just as much of a Sith as the rest of the Dark Lord's students. If this was true, she would have shot down Fett's ship in an attempt to kill Darth Nova, Vader's Sith Apprentice and future leader of the Order. Perhaps, since Vader had trained her himself, Kolos thought he would choose her as his new apprentice since Jade had abandoned him.

There was really only one way to confirm which of the two possibilities was true, Fett knew; he would have to talk to Kolos himself. Her brother the stormtrooper could also perhaps be a source of information about her, since they served together aboard the Emperor's flagship.

The Slave I's comm buzzed, interrupting Fett's thoughts, and he moved his gloved hand over to answer. "Fett here," he said, looking at the small holoprojector mounted in the console.

Jabba the Hutt's majordomo Bib Fortuna appeared, smiling obsequiously, lightly tapping the claw-like nails of his hands together. "His Excellency, Jabba the Hutt, desires to speak with you, Hunter Fett," he said, his head-tails, called lekku by his people, twitching out an insult he probably thought Fett could not understand.

Fett nodded silently, indicating his acceptance of the message, and gave no indication that he knew what Fortuna's lekku had signed at him. He would save that surprise for the next time he was at the palace. Few Twi'leks could say one thing and sign another with their head-tails, since it apparently required a great deal of concentration. If Fortuna had wanted to show his disdain for Fett, he could certainly have found an easier way, but that was just the way Jabba's majordomo was.

The bloated, grossly corpulent form of Jabba the Hutt appeared in the projector, glaring at Fett with his huge yellow eyes. "Where is Solo?" he bellowed in Huttese. "I expected you to deliver him to me days ago!"

"There were… complications," Fett said calmly. "Solo and his companions managed to escape the city, with help from an Imperial traitor." Two, actually, he added silently.

"You are supposed to be the best bounty hunter in the galaxy," Jabba grumbled. "I'm paying you well enough for you to deal with any 'complications', no matter what they are."

"I'll find Solo again," Fett said. "It will be difficult, but not impossible. You'll have your prize, Jabba."

"You had better do it quickly," Jabba said threateningly. "Or it might be you I feed to my rancor."

Boba Fett was not a man easily provoked to anger, but that was going too far. "It's not wise to threaten me," Fett said coldly. "You know what I'm capable of."

It was biologically impossible for Hutts to pale with fear as humans did, but the slight widening of Jabba's eyes made it obvious he was feeling the same emotion behind that particular reaction. He knew all too well just what Boba Fett could do; just because Jabba had been the one who had paid Fett to perform some of his more infamous exploits did not mean the Hunter would have any compunctions about performing one of his spectacular acts of destruction on the Hutt if provoked.

In fact, Fett had once infiltrated Jabba's palace to prove to him that it was not secure enough; he could easily do so again with assassination on his mind. Even a being as wealthy and powerful as the gangster Jabba the Hutt was not safe from the most deadly warrior in the galaxy.

Still, Jabba could not allow himself to be seen as weak, Fett knew. The Hutt summoned anger again for his response. "If you cannot capture Solo," he said, narrowing his eyes, "I will hire someone who can."

Fett shrugged. "If there was somebody out there besides me who could catch him, they would have done it already. You're welcome to look, but if you want results, you know how to contact me."

With that, he cut the transmission. Most sentients would do anything to avoid angering a Hutt, especially Jabba, but both Boba Fett and the gangster knew there was nothing Jabba could throw at him that had a chance. Jabba couldn't very well send Boba Fett after himself, now could he?

To pass the time until the mechanics finished repairing his ship, Fett logged into the HoloNet and searched for recently posted bounties worthy of his time and skills.

Six months later, after several jobs both big and small, Boba Fett made an interesting discovery.

It was a standard practice of his to have his scanners constantly searching for other bounty hunters' ships, in case someone else was onto something interesting he might not know about; more than once, tracking other hunters' movements had yielded substantial rewards for Fett.

Thus, when Slave I alerted him that it had detected the Venesectrix, a ship registered to one Ree Duptom, a lowlife who had the dubious distinction of being the only sentient ever kicked out of the Bounty Hunter's Guild for behavior even they considered unscrupulous, and in a sector very far from his usual area of activity, Fett decided to investigate.

Duptom had to stick to the fringe to find work ever since he had been ejected from the Guild; only the most successful hunters like Boba Fett could remain independent of the Guild and still manage to find well-paying contracts. Therefore, if the Venesectrix was this far coreward, it had to be for a good reason, and thus was worthy of Fett's attention.

Fett sent his starship in on an intercept course, hailing Duptom's ship. He received no response, and when he moved closer, he saw why; the Venesectrix was dead in space, drifting aimlessly without control. By the looks of it, Duptom's vessel hadn't been in the best condition to start with, but something had gone wrong with it, and recently.

Duptom was probably dead, but still, there could be something valuable aboard, whether in information or other hard merchandise. Duptom had to be out here for a reason, and that might very well be a profitable one. Fett sent the Slave I in to link up with the airlock and force it open after confirming breathable atmosphere.

Boba Fett loaded up his weapons and waited by the hatch, watching as his vessel established a link with the Venesectrix. He set the remote slicer to get into Duptom's files and download them to his own databanks while he looked around.

The inside of the Venesectrix was filthy, with food wrappers and other refuse scattered around uncaringly, as if Duptom just tossed his garbage away when he was done with it and never bothered to clean up. That certainly matched his reputation as scum. Fett curled his lip in disgust inside his helmet, considering turning around and leaving right then.

But then he heard a faint noise, a scraping sound, audible mainly because the rest of the ship was deathly silent. Fett brought up his rifle and moved further inside. As he looked inside the cockpit, he saw a body slumped on the floor, dead for at least three days by the state of decomposition.

The body was face-up; Fett recognized the corpse as the Venesectrix's owner, Ree Duptom. He had been exposed to radiation, by the looks of it, though Fett's sensors told him that the only radiation leak powerful enough to be lethal was in the engine compartment, contained there by the emergency bulkheads. Apparently, Duptom had killed himself through his own stupidity by improperly maintaining his engines. He'd received his lethal dose of radiation when attempting to fix them, then staggered up here to die.

Fett left the body behind and continued his investigation. His remote slicer was only about one-fifth done taking Duptom's files, so he had time. He followed the sound of the scraping to the cargo hold, where he found something surprising; there was indeed a survivor aboard the Venesectrix, a young human female with dark hair, severely malnourished and dehydrated. Her breathing was weak and ragged; she'd obviously been down here since Duptom died, and he hadn't been keeping her in very good condition to begin with.

Fett moved to the cargo cage and wrenched open the door, setting his rifle aside to drag the young woman out of the cage. Her violet eyes fluttered open as he did so, and she looked up at him before drifting back into unconsciousness.

She was obviously some of Duptom's hard merchandise, but after scanning her face with his helmet sensors and comparing it to the HoloNet database, Fett found no registered bounty posted for the young woman. So what was Duptom doing with her?

Even scum like Duptom didn't go around kidnapping people for no reason; there had to be somebody who had paid him to take this young woman somewhere, and since she had been locked in a cage, it was a certainty the trip hadn't been her idea.

Fett went back inside his ship to get his medkit, then returned to the Venesectrix's cargo hold. He prepared an intravenous nutrient drip with his supplies and quickly, efficiently located a vein and inserted the sterilized needle. As he waited for her to stabilize so that he could move her, Fett examined the young woman further.

Despite her current condition, she had obviously once been in far better shape; her skin, hair and teeth were in excellent condition -or had been before she had been locked in a cage for at least four days- and her hands were manicured, indicating she was wealthy. Before the incompetent Duptom had accidentally starved and dehydrated her by getting himself killed, she had been in good health, further reinforcing the probability of wealth. She was wearing a nondescript jumpsuit, but it was ill-fitting, more than likely belonging to Duptom himself.

On either side of her head, on her temples, were small wounds that had scabbed over, small punctures that had traces of what looked like electrical burns surrounding them.

Suspicious, Fett looked around the cargo hold, and quickly located what he thought had made the wounds: a metallic, spidery-looking device with a number of prongs and small needles. Fett gave the device a contemptuous kick, inwardly confirming his suspicions.

Duptom had performed a memory wipe on his prisoner, and from her unconscious condition, not entirely a result of her malnutrition, he had obviously had no great concern for her well-being when he had done so. So, that raised the question of why. Who was this young woman, where had she come from, and what did she know that someone didn't want her to know?

And, most important, how could Boba Fett turn this to a profit for himself?

As the young woman he had found recovered in Slave I's medical bay, Fett analyzed Duptom's files. After making sure there was nothing else that could be of use to him aboard, Fett had left the Venesectrix behind to float on in the cold of space by itself, a coffin for its unfortunately idiotic owner. Upon further analysis, there was a possibility that Duptom's engine malfunction had been caused by sabotage, but by that point Fett was no longer even slightly concerned about Duptom or how he had died. All that mattered from the encounter was now aboard his own vessel.

While the young woman was out, being fed a steady stream of replenishing nutrients in Slave I's medical bay, Fett ran a number of other tests on her, searching for her identity with his computers. He found nothing about her through the various databases he consulted, but his medical computer's analysis of her blood sample confirmed that she was Kuati, as he had thought from looking at her. Her genetic sequence marked her as a member of one of the noble houses, though to find out which one he would have to go to Kuat and slice into the computers there; such information was not available off-world, even to his sophisticated slicing programs.

Now the question was, who would kidnap a daughter of a Kuati noble house, and use a lowlife like Duptom to do it? Obviously, whoever it was did not want to kill her, but from the crude memory wipe Duptom had given her, they didn't much care for her state of mind. They just needed her out of the way somewhere, not knowing who she was or whatever it was she knew that had caused Duptom's employer to have this done to her.

There was nothing in Duptom's files that gave a clue as to who had hired him for this job, other than that he had been on Tatooine shortly before he came out here. Duptom did not keep an organized log, and even his flight data recorder was half-scrambled by poor maintenance.

The young woman's brain, Fett's scans revealed, had only been affected in the area that processed and retrieved personal memories; she would be able to speak, to walk, recall general facts, but anything to do with her personally was scrambled, possibly damaged beyond retrieval by Duptom's crude wipe. Effective, but sloppy; Duptom could just as easily have killed her or left her insensate through his shoddy work. More promising, this meant that there was a possibility that the memory wipe was not permanent, and could be overcome.

Interrupting his thoughts, the long-range comm buzzed, and Fett reached across the cockpit console to answer it. "Fett here."

A clipped, Coruscanti-accented answered him. "Hunter Fett, I have a message from Lord Vader. He has an assignment for you, if you are interested. Coordinates for the Executor's current location will be sent if you accept."

"Send them," Fett replied. "I'm on my way."

The Executor, the coordinates indicated, was far from the center of the Empire, off near the Unknown Regions. What Vader was doing out there, Fett didn't know, nor did he particularly care, as long as the Emperor made the trip worth his time.

After setting the navicomputer for the hyperspace jump, Fett went down to the medical bay. On the way, he thought about this latest series of events; on the Executor, he would have the opportunity to investigate the young woman who had shot at his ship, as well as perhaps find out more about this Kuati woman, seemingly unconnected to the other, though discounting a connection entirely would be unwise.

He stopped in the doorway of the small medical bay, barely more than an alcove in the wall with a diagnostic bed and life-support equipment, and looked down at the unconscious young woman he had taken from Duptom's vessel, festooned with nutrient lines and other tubes. Again, Fett wondered who she was and why Duptom had her, but the other bounty hunter was dead, his files nearly useless, so he would have to find out through other means.

When he rendezvoused with the Executor, Boba Fett was quickly shown from the docking bay -where he left Slave I with instructions to alert him if his passenger's condition changed- to a briefing room on the deck above. Fett had been aboard Vader's flagship often enough that he did not require a guide to show him the way, and so he ignored the stormtrooper escort on the way through the cold, harshly lit halls, his boots clicking on the dull gray plates of the deck.

Everything Imperial was in some shade of black, gray or white; Fett himself in his green-and-gray armor was an incongruous splash of color, and though he saw that many crewmen stared at him as he passed, he ignored them.

Darth Vader and Grand Admiral Thrawn were waiting for him, alone; even the red-robed Royal Guard were standing outside.

Thrawn was, as usual, wearing his white Grand Admiral's uniform, his blue-black hair precisely arranged in perfect military regulation. Vader, also as usual, stood out in contrast to his highest-ranking officer, wearing all black. He had begun growing a beard since the last time Fett had seen him, the hunter noted.

Vader looked less and less like the Anakin Skywalker who had been at the battle on Geonosis where Boba Fett's father had died all the time; with his mechanical eye and grim bearing, it was increasingly easy to forget that he had once been a brash, confident young man, the Hero With No Fear of Clone Wars fame.

"We have an assignment for you, Hunter Fett," Thrawn said, looking across the briefing table at him.

"Jabba the Hutt had hired you to bring him Han Solo," Vader said as he crossed his arms over his chest, his cloak falling forward over his shoulders. "Due to a number of factors during the events at Bespin, you were unable to do so. Therefore, Jabba has likely contacted you to show his anger, has he not?"

Fett nodded once. "He has."

"Imperial Intelligence has discovered a plot to assassinate Jabba," Thrawn said. "While it is true that such plots are common in the Hutt's palace, this particular conspiracy shows signs of being far more organized than the usual attempts." He clasped his hands behind his back. "Under the guise of offering to protect the Hutt against such an occurrence, you will go to Jabba's palace and see to it that this plot succeeds."

"You want me to kill Jabba?" Fett asked.

"No," Vader replied. "I want you to make sure the other conspirators succeed. While I have no doubt that you could easily accomplish such a task, the blame needs to be placed on those who are already planning the assassination." Vader's comlink buzzed just then, and he glanced down at the small device for a moment. "Please excuse me," he said, tucking the comlink back into his pocket. He gestured to the Grand Admiral. "Thrawn will explain the rest, if you need more information."

With that, he left, his long black cloak sweeping out behind him as he strode out of the room. Fett glanced after him, then returned his attention to the Grand Admiral.

"Why does Vader want Jabba dead?" Fett asked. "If he dies, his criminal empire is going to dissolve into a mob war as his lieutenants and the other Hutts fight over his holdings."

"That is the idea," Thrawn replied. "Lord Vader has decided that a fight over Jabba's holdings will destabilize the Hutts enough for him to crack down more tightly on the illicit slave trade. He has grown tired of the Hutts and their allies ignoring his edict banning slavery within the Empire's borders. They continue to smuggle slaves through Imperial space, and so Lord Vader has decided to put a stop to it."

Boba Fett knew exactly why Darth Vader despised slavery so much, but he did not mention it. Instead he said, "In return for this, I'd like some information through your intelligence network." He tilted his head forward slightly. "In addition to my payment."

Thrawn's blue-black brows lifted slightly. "An unusual request."

"I recently found a young Kuati woman, -a noble, I think- and I want to know why she was where I found her," Fett said. "Imperial Intelligence is the fastest way to find out. I was going to take her to Jabba's palace and see if anyone there recognized her, but since that place is shortly going to become a war zone with your plans, it wouldn't be safe there. She's not worth anything dead."

Thrawn's expression remained neutral, though there was a thoughtful glimmer in his glowing red eyes. "Kuati, you say," the Grand Admiral said, pausing for a moment. "Very well, Fett; give me what information you have on this passenger of yours, and I will see what I can find out."

"How long?" Fett asked.

"Half a day at least," Thrawn replied. "Can you stay on the Executor that long?"

Fett slowly nodded once, thinking of his other task here. "I'll find some way to occupy myself."

Finding Malysa Kolos, it turned out, was easier than Fett had expected; she passed him in the hall on his way back to Slave I.

"Malysa Kolos," Fett said, stopping in front of her with his hand on the blaster rifle at his side. "I wish to speak with you."

The dark-haired young woman stopped, and there was a brief flicker of nervousness in her eyes, though her expression quickly shifted into a haughty mask, as if being stopped was an annoyance.

"You're that bounty hunter Lord Vader hires sometimes," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you want, hunter? I'm busy."

Fett stared at her silently for a moment, closely observing her face and body language. The arrogant demeanor, he suspected, was just an act to cover her fear.

"You shot down my ship over Cloud City six months ago," Fett said. "I want to know why." He shifted his rifle. "Depending on your answer, I may or may not tell Lord Vader about the traitor in his ranks."

Kolos attempted to maintain her irritated expression as one hand absently plucked at the black fabric of her outer robe, though more than a little fear made its way through. "Follow me," she said finally.

Fett watched her closely as she led him to a side room a short distance down the corridor, in case this was some kind of trap. He'd killed Jedi before, and would not hesitate to do so even now, if this was a trick. This young woman was barely into her twenties; he'd killed Jedi Masters three times her age and skill.

Kolos stopped before a control station for a turbolaser emplacement and went inside. Fett joined her, but left his hand on the grip of the blaster rifle at his side, his finger only a millimeter from the trigger.

Inside, Kolos turned to him and crossed her arms again. "All right, yes," she said. "I admit it; I shot down your ship at Bespin. But," she added quickly, holding up one hand, "I didn't do it to help Solo and his friends."

"Why, then?" Fett said, shifting his blaster rifle again, so that the muzzle was pointed at the Sith's chest, specifically her heart.

Kolos paused for just a moment, glancing down at the muzzle of Fett's blaster rifle. He did not move it.

"Darth Nova was on Slave I," Kolos said finally. "I was trying to kill him."

"You've had plenty of opportunities since your capture at Tatooine," Fett said, noting that, although her face remained largely passive, there was a slight tightening around her eyes; she was a good actress, but not good enough to keep Fett from noting her surprise that he knew that about her.

"Your ship was chasing the Rebels," she said. "If I made it look like they shot you down, that took care of my problem. Lord Vader doesn't approve of assassination as a means of moving up in the ranks, but that's how the old Sith, the true Sith, did things." She lifted her chin. "Lord Vader has said before how impressed he is with my skills; if I kill Nova, he's certain to choose me as his new apprentice."

Kolos shrugged lightly, affecting a mockingly apologetic smirk. "It was nothing personal against you, Fett," she said, spreading her hands. "You just happened to be in the way."

Fett stared at her for a moment, carefully watching her reactions. Only a Sith would be arrogant enough to be so dismissive to him.

He leaned in closer to her, bringing up the muzzle of his blaster rifle to rest against her collarbone, pressing lightly against the hollow of her throat. "The next time you decide to arrange an 'accident' for one of your superiors," he said dangerously, "make sure it doesn't involve costing me a bounty and wrecking my ship."

Kolos's eyes widened in apprehension; not even a Sith could stop a blaster bolt at this range, and she knew it. She raised her hands, keeping them well away from the lightsaber at her side.

"In return for not killing you right here and now," Fett went on, "you are going to do something for me."

"C-Certainly," Kolos said, edging backwards a half-step.

Fett extended his arm, keeping the muzzle of his rifle in place. "I have a woman aboard my ship," he said. "You are going to personally see to it that she recovers here aboard the Executor, where you will keep her, without alerting anyone else aboard, until I come for her."

"How am I going to do that?" Kolos asked, her hands dropping slightly.

Fett pressed his blaster harder into her neck, and her hands snapped back up to where they had been. "That's your problem," he said. "I need a place to keep her for a while, and there's no place more secure in this galaxy than aboard Darth Vader's flagship. The Executor is nineteen kilometers long; you'll be able to find some place out of the way to hide one woman."

"How are we going to get her off your ship without anyone noticing?" Kolos asked.

Fett took a step back, lowering his rifle, though he still left the muzzle pointed in her direction. "I'm going to be here for most of the day," he said. "We'll work something out." He finally lowered his rifle altogether. "Find a reason to be in the docking bay in two hours," he said.

With that, he turned and left the young Sith behind.

"Her name," said Grand Admiral Thrawn, three hours later, "is Kateel of Kuhlvult."

Boba Fett looked down at the holo displayed by the projector between himself and the Grand Admiral in Thrawn's private command room, essentially a small office not far from the bridge. The pictured woman was definitely the same one he and Malysa Kolos had just smuggled into the depths of the Executor, but wearing the typical clothes of Kuati nobility, her hair elaborately arranged around her head.

"That was fast," he said.

"I have an agent planted within House Kuhlvult," Thrawn replied, leaning forward slightly in his chair. "Kateel has not been seen for almost a Standard month, and while the excuse in the household is that she is visiting one of the family's southern villas, my agent suspected differently."

Fett was curious as to why Thrawn had an agent placed in one of the Kuati noble houses, but he knew better than to ask. However, that fit another crucial piece into the puzzle; if there was an excuse within the family as to why Kateel was missing, that meant whoever had kidnapped her was a member of the household, probably a high-ranking one.

"Any ideas as to who kidnapped her?" Fett asked.

Thrawn shook his head. "My agent did not know. However, until I learn the truth, Kateel will be quite safe here. You and young Kolos did not need to go to all the trouble of smuggling her to the lower decks."

Only his great self-control kept Fett from flinching in surprise. "You knew?" he said evenly, betraying no emotion.

Thrawn's lips quirked in a slight smile as he gestured to the walls of his command room, hung with various artworks. "Even though this starship is the size of a small city, I would not be an effective commander if I did not know everything that went on inside its hull. The young woman will remain under my custody until she recovers, during which time I will learn who kidnapped her and why, though I already have my suspicions."

"You Imperials are starting to develop a bad habit of taking things from me," Fett said, shifting the blaster rifle at his side.

Thrawn shrugged minutely, tapping his fingers together a few times as he propped his elbows on the arms of his chair. "As compensation, I have another contract for you, one for me personally."

"I'm listening," Fett replied.

"I want you to investigate a planet called Myrkr," Thrawn said, "specifically, some of the local fauna, details of which I will provide upon your acceptance. In addition to this and giving me any information you have on young Kateel's kidnapping, I will pay you fifty thousand credits."

Fett had to think about this for only a moment. "Done," he said. "When Jabba's dead, I'll head for Myrkr."

"It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Hunter Fett," said Thrawn.

Fett turned and left the command room with only a slight nod as reply.

Malysa Kolos slumped down into a chair in her quarters on the Executor, exhausted. Twice today, twice, she thought she had been found out and was about to die.

The first time had been bad enough, when she had had to make up a convincing story in front of Boba Fett, but when Grand Admiral Thrawn had personally surprised her while transporting Boba Fett's mysterious passenger, Malysa had thought she was only moments away from being killed during the entire conversation.

She was still positive Thrawn hadn't bought her story about wanting to get rid of Darth Nova, but for whatever reason, he had let her go, telling her that the young woman was her responsibility while she was aboard the Executor, and that Malysa was now in his debt for keeping her 'disloyalties' quiet.

Truthfully, Malysa hadn't even known Darth Nova was on board the Slave I when she had shot it down; she'd only learned this when Nova had raged about it to Lord Vader later, complaining that he should have killed Fett for losing Solo and the others. She was actually rather proud of herself for thinking of that one, especially since it appeared Fett had believed her.

Over the last three and a half years, Malysa had gotten better and better at lying, being able to make up convincing stories very quickly so as to cover for her actions while gathering information to leak to the Rebellion. It was either that or get caught by the Sith and die slowly and painfully.

"It won't be too much longer," said the voice of her teacher, her one ally and confidant in this place. "What you are doing is greatly aiding those on the side of right, and the time has almost come when you will be ready to leave this place and join them."

Malysa didn't bother looking up; she wouldn't be able to see him, anyway, since he wasn't really here. "I hope so, Master," she said. "I don't think I can take much more of this."

She felt a sort of warm reassurance, as if the Jedi Master had placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You are strong, Malysa," he said. "And it is only a little while longer. Just hold on till then."

Though the Jedi Master was not really there -as he had explained it, he was now on a higher plane of existence- she felt the impression in her mind of a bearded face smiling warmly, and then his presence was gone.

Trying to stop her hands from shaking, Malysa Kolos leaned back in her chair and looked out at the stars.

-/\-

Author's Note: Those of you who have read 'The Bounty Hunter Wars' trilogy by K.W. Jeter will recognize the plotline I am adapting to this AU; I found Kateel, or Neelah, as she is called in those books at first, to be an interesting character, one whose situation presented intriguing possibilities for the 'One Missed Strike' universe. Expect to see more of her in the future.

Thanks goes to my beta reader, Silverwolf05, for looking this story over and making her usual helpful suggestions. She is writing the next and final oneshot in this collection, which sets up a key plot in 'One Missed Strike, Part III':

'Power Behind the Throne': Ysanne Isard, Director of Imperial Intelligence, exerts a considerable amount of influence over Darth Vader's Empire. So much so that, when a decision of Vader's angers her, Isard begins to plot a way to seize the Empire for herself...

Till next time, thanks for reading!