The Tracker strode up to the stormtrooper line that surrounded the repair shop, inconspicuously clad in a stolen suit of white trooper armor. He had the helmet clipped to his belt so the bright, flashing HUD wouldn't distract him. He spotted a real stormtrooper aiming a rifle at the repair shop's front doors, leaning against a speeder parked on the roadside to steady his shot.
"What's the situation?" the Tracker asked.
The trooper turned his helmeted head slightly. "We had a report of an urban disturbance in this sector of the city. Apparently someone was firing blaster shots out through the windows of this shop. Eyewitnesses have said that four bounty hunters went inside soon after. We think they have hostages."
"And how is the sergeant dealing with the situation?"
The trooper shrugged and nodded toward another stormtrooper standing further down the line. "See for yourself."
The Tracker watched as the indicated trooper took a step forward, his helmet vocoder turned up to full blast, and shouted, "This is Sergeant Mikale again. Send out your hostages or we're coming in to get them!"
The Tracker shook his head. That wasn't going to get the troopers anywhere. Vhetin was as stubborn as bounty hunters came and if that trooper kept up his shouting, he'd only succeed in goading Vhetin into a fight.
He stepped forward, intending to have a word with the sergeant, when a low rumble drowned out the shouting of the troopers in the perimeter line. Troopers began straightening and looking around in confusion. The Tracker slowly pulled his heavy-duty pistol, narrowing his eyes and thinking, where is that coming from?
The sergeant turned to the troops behind him and shouted at them to tighten the perimeter. The Tracker agreed with the tactic. The bounty hunters inside were obviously trying something. But what?
Suddenly there was a deafening crack and the entire front wall of the repair shop exploded outward in a shower of dust and heavy chunks of duracrete. Troopers were knocked off their feet as large projectile pieces of the building's wall bowled them over. The Tracker ducked as a grayish-blue chunk of wall flew over his head.
After a few moments the force of the explosion began to fade. Bits of duracrete fell to the ground or skittered across the street and the dust from the eruption slowly began to clear. Further down the line, the stormtrooper sergeant shakily clambered to his feet and ordered his troops to calm down and reform the perimeter line. Every trooper that was still able staggered to their feet and once again pressed themselves against the line of speeders and duracrete barricades that formed the battle line. The sound of over fifty Imperial rifles charging up to fire consumed the Tracker's hearing.
He raised his own rifle, squinting as a shape began to appear through the fog of vaporized duracrete ahead of them. It was round, oblong, and distinctly mechanical.
The Tracker's eyes slowly widened. Is that... is that a submarine?
Sure enough, the dissipating smoke revealed a half-wrecked, grayish submersible resting on the street in front of the trooper's battle line. Even as the Tracker watched, an exit hatch on the side of the vehicle split open and an exit ramp slid out and hit the ground with a dull thud.
An armored boot hit the destroyed surface of the street. The Tracker squinted through the haze in front of him, tightening his grip on his rifle as a figure dressed in black and gray armor strode into the sunlight, hefting two heavy-duty blaster pistols. A similar figure clad in brown battle armor followed the first, this one shouldering a rifle. Both were wearing what looked like reflective black welding masks over their faces. As the Tracker watched, the two strode toward the police line as if they didn't have a care in the world.
The stormtrooper sergeant seemed to stare at the two in disbelief, then stepped back and shouted, "Blast them!"
Every stormtrooper present opened fire at the two, lighting the street up with glowing red rifle fire. The brown-armored figure ducked back inside the grounded submarine and returned fire while the man in black erupted into a blur of motion and sprinted for the stormtrooper battle line. He front-flipped effortlessly over a duracrete traffic barricade and landed on his feet, already firing. Within moments, troopers were felled by a storm of blue-white laser fire.
The Tracker cursed and sprinted toward Vhetin, raising his rifle and shouting, "Everyone down!"
His shout went unheard. Troopers were busy firing, shouting orders to each other, or screaming as they were blasted off their feet by enemy fire. As the Tracker sprinted forward, Vhetin raised his arm and unleashed a blaze of fire that roared out in a bright arc of orange-white flame. Troopers staggered away screaming, waving arms that crawled with three-foot tendrils of fire.
Vhetin smashed his way through the still-flaming troopers, firing at the ones who were still within range. He carved through the battle line almost effortlessly, unleashing his deadly warrior's grace on the simple troopers. The brown-armored bounty hunter picked off anyone Vhetin left behind, mowing down his targets with an efficiency that only came with years of combat experience.
The Tracker raised his rifle and squeezed off two shots at the most obvious threat, Vhetin. One missed completely while the other slammed into Vhetin's stomach plate. It made him stagger slightly, but he didn't stop or even slow down. He just threw his armored shoulder into a stormtrooper's chest plate and knocked the soldier off his feet. He then continued with a roundhouse kick that caught another trooper in the side of the helmet. The man went sprawling, knocking over a dumpster and spilling trash across the sidewalk.
The Tracker cursed and sprinted forward, raising his rifle again. Vhetin saw him coming and leveled his other arm. The Tracker barely had time to jump away before the Mandalorian fired a wrist-mounted anti-personnel rocket that tore up the duracrete and released a shockwave that slammed the Tracker against a speeder hood.
"Nice try, Tracker," Vhetin said, stepping forward and hefting his rifle. "You came close to getting me this time."
The Tracker coughed, tasting the metallic tinge of blood in his mouth. He struggled to rise to his hands and knees. "You sound very sure that you'll get away from this."
"You didn't manage to capture me last time," Vhetin growled, taking another step closer, "and you won't manage to bring me down now."
The Tracker scowled, then leaped to his feet and slammed a fist into Vhetin's borrowed mask. The reflective black surface of the mask cracked beneath the force of the blow and Vhetin himself was knocked back. The Tracker moved forward, scooping up his fallen rifle as he went.
"That was always your most obvious weakness, Vhetin," he said as the bounty hunter stumbled back to his feet. "You were always so confident in your own abilities. You never knew when you were beaten."
"Some would consider that a good quality."
"Not me," the Tracker said, then emptied his rifle's magazine into Vhetin's chest. Vhetin shouted in pain and crashed back onto the ground. The Tracker slammed his white-armored boot down on Vhetin's chest plates as he unhurriedly reloaded his weapon.
"I'm actually kind of disappointed," he said as he snapped back the blaster's charging rod. Once done, he aimed the rifle at Vhetin's masked face. A full magazine of ammunition would smash the mask and kill him instantly. "The old Vhetin would have put up more of a fight. You've gone soft."
"Be careful what you wish for," Vhetin grunted, then suddenly grabbed the Tracker's ankles and arched his back, throwing the Tracker off balance. The Tracker was about to leap back into the fight when two blaster bolts ricocheted off the surface of the duracrete at his feet. He stumbled and turned to see the brown-armored bounty hunter sighting down his heavy-duty rifle at him. Enemy fire soon caused the man to take refuge inside the wrecked submersible again.
No longer pinned to the ground, Vhetin flipped nimbly back to his feet and grabbed his pistols again. But he didn't move to fire them. Instead, he holstered them and pulled two cylinders from belt clips next to the holsters.
The Tracker froze as Vhetin ignited two blue lightsabers, one in each hand. The bounty hunter spun them in blazing blue arcs in front of him before dropping into a combat-ready battle stance. The Tracker stared at him, then slowly lowered his rifle.
"You still disappointed?" Vhetin growled from behind his cracked faceplate.
The Tracker pulled a long-bladed cortosis vibroblade from his belt and flipped it nimbly between his fingers. "You're doing better. I'm starting to break a sweat."
Vhetin charged forward, spinning and slashing before the Tracker could even blink. He barely brought his vibroblade up in time to block a double blow to his chest. He slid the lightsabers away from his body and kicked out at Vhetin's armored chest. Vhetin absorbed most of the blow and responded by stabbing forward at the Tracker's chest. The Tracker spun out of the way, managing to knock one lightsaber out of the Mandalorian's grasp as he did. Vhetin instantly switched to a more powerful, two-handed grip on his remaining weapon.
Before he could attack, however, four other stormtroopers sprinted up and aimed their weapons at Vhetin's chest. One of them, the sergeant in charge of the battle line, snapped, "Drop your weapon. Now!"
Vhetin slowly lowered his lightsaber, then deactivated it and tossed it aside. The sergeant slowly stepped forward, unclipping a pair of stun cuffs from his utility belt. He clipped the cuffs over one of Vhetin's wrists and growled, "You're going to pay for attacking one of our own."
Vhetin snorted, his expression unreadable behind his partially shattered faceplate. "Your own? Wake the kriff up, sergeant. You really think he's one of your own?"
The sergeant hesitated, then resumed cuffing the bounty hunter. One of the other troopers present, however, said, "What're you talking about? Look, his identification tab is right here on his chest plate."
The trooper leaned toward the Tracker, who tried to take a step back to keep his stolen identity secret. Too late. The trooper narrowed his eyes and said, "Private C'ciri? I thought he was on leave for the week."
He looked up at the Tracker and slowly raised his rifle. "So who the kriff are you?"
Instinct kicked in and the Tracker moved without thinking. He grabbed the barrel of the soldier's rifle, twisted, and slammed his fist down on the man's armored forearm, yanking the rifle from the trooper's grasp. The Tracker then spun the weapon around and fired three shots into the trooper's plastoid chest plate.
"What the-" the sergeant had time to say before rifle fire felled him as well.
Vhetin somersaulted and grabbed his two lightsabers, activating them both again as he rolled to his feet. He crossed the humming blue blades in an X in front of him and hastily retreated, either attempting to deflect the Tracker's rifle shots or simply allowing his impenetrable armor to absorb the bolts. As soon as he was a sufficient distance away, he simply turned and ran. The Tracker cursed and sprinted after him as the black-armored man front-flipped effortlessly over the hood of a speeder and took off toward the submarine.
The Tracker was only a few feet behind his quarry when he jumped up and over the speeder and landed heavily on the ground on the other side. He heard a high-pitched beep as soon as he did. He looked down in confusion and saw a metallic, hourglass-shaped device at his feet. There was a bright green light flashing on the top and as the Tracker watched, the light flashed red.
"Oh, son of a-"
Then the world exploded into white.
"How do you think the fight outside is going?"
Jay cocked her head and listened to the blaster fire and explosions from beyond the repair shop. She could see bright red blaster bolts flashing through the air through the tremendous hole in the wall created by the submarine's exit.
"Vhetin and Tarron look like they have things under control," she said. "We should probably get moving though."
Venku nodded and looked up at one of the skylights set into the ceiling. He triggered his jetpack and blasted up into the air, smashing through the window and into open air. He cut out the pack and landed easily on the roof.
Jay grimaced and covered her head as a shower of shattered glass rained down around her. As soon as the tiny shards had stopped falling, she looked up at Venku with a glare.
"You could have warned me you were going to do that," she said.
"Sorry," he called. "Completely slipped my mind. You sure you can do this?"
She took a step back this time and folded her arms expectantly. "It's been a while since I've tried my luck on the climbing rope in Rame's barn, but I can probably manage."
He threw her a salute, then raised his right arm and fired a gauntlet-mounted whipcord down into the room. The tiny grapple head bounced off the floor and rolled away, trailing hyper-dense whipcord line behind it. She stepped up to the line and tugged on it twice to test it.
"You sure you can hold it steady?" she asked, looking up at him.
"Please," he said in mock-annoyance. "If I wasn't we'd just be blowing another giant hole in the wall like Vhetin suggested. Now start crawling up the line before those stormtroopers start pokin' around."
She pulled her pilot's gloves from her jacket pocket and pulled them on to protect her hands. Once done, she hopped up and caught hold of the thin wire. She swung back and forth in mid-air for a moment before she began pulling herself up hand over hand.
"You okay?" Venku asked when she was halfway up.
She grunted as she slowly came to a halt. "I'm fine. Just keep your feet braced so you don't slip and send us both falling to our almost certain death."
He reached out his other arm as soon as she was close enough and hauled her up through the broken skylight. As she stripped off her gloves, he clicked a button on the side of his gauntlet and reeled the whipcord line back into its housing. The grapple head slid back into the gauntlet with a quiet click.
"Shall we?" he said, straightening and gesturing toward a fire escape on the rear side of the building.
She nodded, pulling her pistol from its holster and stepping toward the rickety fire escape. She cautiously leaned over the edge of the roof and scanned the alley below for signs of enemies.
"All clear," she said, stowing her weapon. "The stormtroopers guarding this area must have left to join the fight out front."
"Lucky us," he said, then hopped over the edge and slid down the escape ladder. He hit the ground, drew his pistol, and cleared the alley. After a moment he gestured for her to follow him down.
She quickly stepped down the ladder, landing in a deep puddle of seawater. She cursed and shook one sopping-wet boot, then stepped toward the front of the alley. Venku was right behind her, glancing over his shoulder.
"You think we're safe?" he asked. "My HUD's motion tracker shows a lot of Imperial contacts in the area."
"Just act casual," she said, pulling her jacket down to cover her blaster. "At least as casual as a walking death machine like you can manage."
He snorted as they turned the corner and moved out onto the street. It was deserted, most likely due to the loud sounds of blaster fire coming from the street barely a hundred meters away.
She glanced over at Venku, then nudged his arm and said, "Hey. Your helmet."
"Huh? What about it?"
"Take it off."
"Why?"
"It'll make you look less threatening to any other stormtroopers we come across. The last thing we want is to challenge their authority."
He shrugged and pulled off the helmet, clipping it to a hook on his belt. "Whatever you say, boss. You're the bounty hunting beauty."
She bit back a smile and said, "The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better off we'll be."
"You know a lot about all this."
"I've been working in this trade for a year," she said with a shrug. "I've picked up some stuff. I had to do something like this just a couple months ago."
"That whole deal with Hett and those Sith that you told me about?"
She nodded. "Me, Vhetin, and a few others had to sneak into a heavily guarded facility. How hard can it be to sneak out of one?"
She had barely spoken the words before they turned another corner and found themselves staring down a stormtrooper barricade. The troopers thankfully had their backs to them, but were directing all traffic away from the area Jay and Venku were leaving. The two slowly came to a halt, staring at the barricades that separated them from the chaotic crowd of beings that guaranteed their escape.
"Uh-oh," Venku said. "We can't go around. What now?"
Jay's mind flew wildly from one scenario to another, trying to find some kind of excuse that the troopers would buy. When an idea finally came to mind, she grabbed his arm and burst into tears.
He looked sharply over at her. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Just play along," she hissed between a feigned sob. "Play the part of the devoted boyfriend. I'll take care of the rest."
"I've been preparing for this role for months," he said enthusiastically.
"Joke later," she whispered.
"Okay," he murmured. "But if you feel the need to kiss me in order to sell it, please just go ahead."
He quickly fell silent as they approached the stormtrooper line. Hearing footsteps behind him, one of the troopers turned and raised a rifle. "Halt!" he barked. "You're leaving a restricted area."
"It w-was horrible!' Jay sobbed. "W-we were just walking along and… and then they w-were shooting!"
She broke down into tears, burying her face in Venku's shoulder. He stroked her hair sympathetically and looked to the trooper. "She's a bit shaken up. It was a warzone back there."
"Right," the trooper said, eyeing Venku's multi-colored combat armor. "I'm sure it was a situation that you just weren't prepared for."
"Hey, white-job, why don't you go jump off a-"
Jay, her face still pressed against Venku's arm, tightened her grip until she felt him wince slightly. He trailed off, then said, "I couldn't get involved. I had to protect ner cyar'ika."
The trooper stared at them long enough for Jay to worry that her plan wasn't working. Then the trooper shook his head and gestured them forward. Jay cried harder as they passed, ensuring that she sold her part of the deception. Venku stroked her hair soothingly and murmured, "It's okay, cyar'ika. It's all over now."
The trooper shook his helmeted head again and said, "I thought you Mandos liked tough women."
"We all have different tastes burc'ya," Venku replied evenly. Then they passed through the blockade and melted into the flow of city-goers who didn't know or care who they were. As soon as they were out of the trooper's sight, Jay let out a breath and straightened, instantly regaining her composure.
"You did well," she said, slowly releasing Venku's arm.
"I probably would have been able to sell it a little better if you had kissed me," he said, sounding a little disappointed.
"Keep dreaming, Mando boy," she shot back. "I have a boyfriend now, remember?"
His face fell slightly at her words, but only for a moment. Then he said, "Right. And I wouldn't want to come between you and a jealous Mando'ad cyar'ika. How's it going by the way? You know, if it's not a personal question."
She glanced over her shoulder. "Is now really the time?"
"What do you mean? We're safe, heading away from the stormtroopers and the Tracker. I think it's the perfect time for some relaxation."
She shrugged. "The relationship is fine. A little hard to get time together with everything that's been happening."
He nodded sympathetically. "I'm sure it'll smooth itself out. I think you and Vhetin both will need a long break after all this."
"I hope so," Jay said. She hesitated, then said, "No, scratch that. I just hope we all make it home in one piece."
"That's a given."
They lapsed into an awkward silence. They turned off the crowded main street and made their way down an emptier side-street, heading for the rendezvous point that Vhetin had given them. If all went to plan ― and no one died ― then Vhetin and Tarron would meet them there.
"Are you happy?"
Jay glanced over at Venku. "What?"
He was staring at her intently. "This new boyfriend. Does he make you happy?"
She frowned. "I... I guess so. Why do you ask?"
He shrugged awkwardly, suddenly looking away and refusing to meet her confused gaze. "I just... I, uh, heard about what happened to you in the Navy. And I hoped you had been been able to find some measure of happiness after everything you lost."
She narrowed her eyes, not entirely convinced that was what he wanted to say. But she just shrugged and said, "I've enjoyed the time I've spent on Mandalore. And I don't think I'm going to be leaving any time soon. Happy or not, I've found my home."
"You didn't answer my question."
She frowned deeper, now in thought. Was she happy? Like she had said, she enjoyed her time on Mandalore and her partnership with Vhetin, as stressed and dangerous as it was. She had made herself a home among the Mandalorians and their allies. She had friends and a home and a boyfriend now.
But was she really happy? Her life was fraught with pain at the loss of Sade and her fellow pilots, stress from multiple dangerous hunting contracts, and ever-present hatred for the Imperials that had imprisoned her and ripped her away from everything she had loved.
But she remembered occurrences over the past year that she had enjoyed: her training and partnership with Vhetin, occasionally helping Rame and Mia on their farm, sharing drinks with Venku at the Oyu'baat, sporadic dates with her new boyfriend. She didn't think she would trade those memories for the world.
"I am," she eventually concluded. "I am happy. I made one of the best decisions of my life when I decided to learn from Vhetin."
He nodded. "I'm glad. You're mandokarla, Jay. You deserve better than to live like Vhetin, with no happiness or hope in your life."
"You sound very disparaging of him," she said. "He's not a bad man, Venku."
"I never said so" he said. "But I don't want to see you turn into him. You can't say that you want to live like he does."
Venku had a point there. Vhetin's almost constant depression, his severe sense of ruthless justice, and his self-control that almost bordered on self-punishment wasn't what Jay wanted for herself. If anything, she wanted to help her partner out of his self-destructive tendencies. But he seemed to be even more stubborn about pushing her away whenever she did. She hoped she never became someone like that, who couldn't see the people around them who cared and wanted to help.
The frightening thing was that she got the feeling that Vhetin didn't want to be that way either. And she had to admit that scared the osik out of her. The idea that she would unwillingly grow paranoid, depressed, and cold like Vhetin had actually kept her up at night.
"I don't really want to think about this right now," she finally said. "We have enough on our plates as it is."
He nodded. "I think I agree."
They walked in silence for a few moments before they reached the rendezvous point. They found a streetside bench and sat dawn on it. Jay leaned back and crossed her legs, waiting for any sign of Vhetin or Tarron.
"Nervous?" Venku eventually asked.
She looked over at him. "No. Why would I be?"
He nodded to her foot. She was bouncing it rapidly up and down. She stared for a moment, then forcibly stilled it. "Oh. Okay, maybe I'm a little nervous. Vhetin and Tarron should be here by now."
"They'll make it," Venku said. He unclipped his helmet and began spinning it between his palms. "From what I've heard, they've both been through tougher spots than this."
"Just because they've survived worse in the past doesn't mean they're not still in danger," she said. "I've heard of twenty-year veterans of bounty hunting who were shot and killed by solitary targets. You can't take a firefight lightly just because you've been through worse."
He nodded slowly. "I'll have to keep that in mind in the future."
"Besides," she continued, "I've known Vhetin long enough to know that he isn't invincible. Neither is Tarron for that matter."
"I'm touched by your confidence in our abilitites," a deep voice said to their right. They both jumped and turned toward the voice to find Tarron, his armor battered and scarred by multiple blaster shots. His left gauntlet was actually smoking.
Venku and Jay both stood. Jay grinned and said, "I was worried you wouldn't make it."
Vhetin appeared behind Tarron, looking just as beat-up as the Journeyman Protector. He had swapped his welding mask for his usual helmet, but he had several burns in his armor paint and several holes had been torn through his kama.
"Since when have I ever failed to fulfill my end of the plan?" he said, cocking his head to one side.
She opened her mouth to shoot back a retort. She promptly closed it, unable to think of a time. Eventually she just shrugged and shook her head.
"I thought so," Vhetin said, stepping past them and surveying the buildings in front of them. After a few moments, he called over his shoulder, "Tarron. Where are we?"
Jay stepped after her partner and muttered, "Nice to see you too."