One Day at a Time

by Dakota M. Eno

Tonak Enos. Mercenary, smuggler, bounty hunter, assassin, bodyguard...former Imperial Black Ops. In an attempt to find himself some work after he is forced to leave the Empire, Enos accepts a job with a small payout to keep himself afloat. The mission ends in betrayal, and leads him to become a legend to rival even the greatest in the history of the galaxy... ABOUT TO BE UPDATED!

14. End of the Line

End of the Line

Coruscant, Prison Sector
34 ABY
Tonak "Blue Fox" Enos

... ... ...

I released my grip on the collar of the skinny, pale human man bearing a pair of flushed black eyes, a bloody nose, and a jaw that hung slightly open, courtesy of an assisted bump of the head. He stumbled away from me, positively thrilled to be out of my custody and into the waiting arms of the Coruscant Sector 131 Police droids. Between the droids stood a Zabrak woman with short, curved white horns on her skull and a yellow-brown hued skin. Her eyes were fierce, no doubt mandatory were she to remain as the warden of the Alliance Judiciary Central Detention Center, the largest prison on Coruscant. The JCDC was nestled out in the middle of the power and industrial sector of Coruscant's Imperial District, a perfect place to house some of the Core Worlds' most dangerous criminals.

This man, his name unimportant to me, was the last of thirty-four maximum security convicts that escaped three hundred and sixty-two days ago. Boba Fett had been offered first dibs on all of the bounties set forth by the Galactic Alliance, and thus turned them over to me. I'd spent every single day hunting one bounty or another, chasing rapists and murderers all throughout the Core. Eighteen hadn't even made it offworld, unable to manage a transport, nine made it within the sector, six had actually made it to the edge of the Core, and this one actually made the jump to hyperspace bound for Corellia before I leapt out from behind his pilot's seat and slammed his face off the controls three times consecutively. Honestly, I had thought about whether or not I'd gone a bit overboard, and over the course of the entire twenty hour trip through hyperspace with the convict bound and gagged in the storage compartment, I finally agreed to admit that perhaps hiding on the ship until the man thought he was free in clear might have been a bit creepy.

But, I was forced to do these bounties or lose out on the money, so I might as well enjoy it.

Boba Fett had all but foced my hand in doing these bounty hunts, not giving me any other work until they were done. I had about had enough of it, considering leaving Fett's service more than once. And to top it off, Fett increased his take of the earnings to cover "getting thirty-four contracts at once", like a bundle deal. I was already sore towards Fett after the deal with being sent to help out a rookie group of stormtroopers on Embaril almost a year ago. Another run-and-gun mission I hadn't been paid adequately for. After the shot I'd pulled off had somehow made it to the Holonet (no doubt filmed and posted by one of the troopers) some were hailing me as the greatest marksman of the century, second only to Peyton Vex, the legendary scout trooper with the three mile headshot.

And still, Fett refused to acknowledge me as anything more than a common smuggler. But a common smuggler couldn't have done any of the insane missions I'd done. At least the warden gave me some props.

"Blue Fox," she said, bowing her head and shooting the convict a derisive look, "I must say I honestly didn't believe any one bounty hunter could have collected on thirty-four bounties, especially of such caliber, in a single Standard year."

I kept my face as stone, only my eyes visible from above my half-mask. "I'm no bounty hunter," I said, "I'm a mercenary. Bit more talented."

I held out a gloved hand, waiting for my payout.

As she had for the past thirty-three visits, the warden placed a credit chip in my hand.

"Ten thousand, all accounted for."

I turned on my heel, striding across the landing pad and back towards the DarkRider.

There was no need to offer the usual threats of dismemberment should she betray me. One, the warden had already heard that spiel about six times. Two, she worked for the Alliance, and the Alliance didn't want to find their Chief of State floating facedown in an abandoned sea on Kamino.

My name had amassed such respect, fear, prowess, and prestige since I'd started working with Boba Fett. The one and a half million credits sitting in my bank didn't hurt either. However, I was losing a great deal of my own self-respect. Every time Fett spoke to me, he talked down to me as if I was a child. He gave me the garbage jobs, took the ones he wanted, and contracted the others out to whoever was willing to buy the contract from him. I, at this point, was any bit as lethal as he was, moreso in my opinon. Boba Fett was a ruthless and well trained warrior with more experience in the criminal world than any other, and the son of a legend.

But he was not a Praetorian.

More and more I believed that it was time for me to go it my own way, to use the contacts I'd earned to get my own work.

Three hundred and sixty-two days of chasing bounties, and I'm finally done, I thought, no more hunting criminals through impossible cities, charging through jungles, shooting up henchmen, and no more dealing with the Alliance.

I'm done for a while.

I marched up the stealth freighter's boarding ramp, peeling my half mask and wiping the sweat from my jaw line. "Dexter," I called, navigating to the cockpit and plopping heavily into the pilot's seat.

The protocol droid shuffled into the cockpit, servo motivators whirring with each movement. "Yes, sir," he said, his Core Worlds accent prissy and well groomed, "Can I be of service?"

I nodded, punching in the coordinates for Naboo into the Navicomputer, "Bring me an inch and a half of something strong, you pick. And check the status of my gear, make sure I didn't miss anything when I fixed it up. Oh, and check on the D-60s."

"Yes, Master Fox."

I leaned my head back on the headrest, allowing my eyes to close for a moment. My chrono read that it was noon, standard time. Fett would be calling me to check on the payment within the minute-

On the dash controls, my holocomm light began to blink, followed by a musical chime.

Always on time when it comes to getting paid, I thought angrily.

I tapped the flashing button, and a small hologram of Fett flared into view, garbed as standard in his weathered Mandolorian armor.

"Fox," he said, his voice dark.

"Fett," I replied, nodding in acknowledgement, "The payment was a success. Ten thousand as agreed on. Now that I"ve collected all your damn bounties, I'm heading-"

"To the forest moon of Endor," he interrupted, "I've got a sweet contract set up there."

I cut a hand through the air like a knife, dropping heavy profanity. "No," I snapped, "I've been beating convicts all around the Core for almost a year, I'm taking some time to myself. Find someone else to do it."

Fett didn't even budge. "I don't care what you've been doing," he said cooly, "You work for me, and I have a job for you. You don't just get to deny a contract when I pass it down to you, you're an employee not a friend. I run a business, and you work for it. Clear?"

I glared at him, allowing my anger to soak into every word. "I take whatever contracts I want. I'm damn tired of the hell you put me through, because you don't want to do it yourself. If you run a business, then I quit. I'm on my own."

For the first time since I'd known him, I saw Fett stir in surprise, caught off guard that someone would dare defy him. "You quit?"

"Yeah, I do."

He leaned in closer to the camera, his face still invisible, "You aren't quitting. You're going to Endor, because two hundred thousand credits says you are."

It was my turn to be startled. "Two hundred large?"

Fett snorted, clearly seeing he had my attention. "Yeah, two hundred. Now, you're going. And here's your briefing: You, five others, and me are going to land on the moon's surface, by the ruins of the old Imperial shield generator. The employer owns a business of some kind, and wants his competition put out of business. There's a small complex, about twenty small houses and a warehouse, that is fairly well guarded. Drones showed at least fifty armed guards, six towers, and three X-4 gunships. There are two quad A-2s on the roof of the warehouse, and they've got sensory scanners up to a mile on land, three by air. The good news is that we can jam their scanners no problem. The bad news is we'll be going in on foot, with air cover, and doing this the old fashioned way. So, get your best gear, get some testosterone, and meet me at the coordinates in four days."

Fett's image blinked out.

I roared in frustration, pounding the armrests of my chair.

Two hundred large wasn't something to joke about, but to be just volunteered to do a job was bantha fodder. I was any bit as good as Fett, why should I be the lap-dog?

I'm done, absolutely done with Fett, I thought savagely.

Dexter brought me a drink, and I downed it in one. "Fill her back up, Dex. We're headed for Endor and I'm not happy about it."

Dexter hurried off to do as I asked, leaving me alone in the cockpit, the only sound being my heavy breathing.

I can't pass on my share of two hundred grand. I'll go shoot it out on Endor, but then Fett and I are going to have a nice talk.

... ... ...

... ... ...

Forest Moon of Endor, Imperial Shield Generator.

34 ABY.

Three days later.

I steered the DarkRider in a wide arc around the scattered field of durocrete and rebar, all that remained of the infamous shield generator that protected the second Death Star.

This place had a great history.

The Empire had their asses handed to them by a handful of Rebel Marines and a tribe of two foot teddy bears that had primitive bows and spears. The camouflage failure of the stormtroopers had gone down as one of the Empires worst moves, and one of the Rebellion's most retold tales. In the space above, Luke Skywalker had defeated the seemingly invincible Darth Vader in lightsaber combat, then Vader had been "redeemed in the Force" and murdered the Emperor. The official report was that Vader had died, and Skywalker held a Jedi funeral for him here.

Tomorrow, I was about to leave another mark on this sleepy little moon.

"Sir," Dexter said over the comm, "The ramp is open and the charges are in place. Are you sure you want me to push them out?"

"Yes, Dexter," I said for the third time, "I'm lowering the ship now. Push them out into the rubble and then close the ramp."

"You are aware that each of these seismic charges has a blast radius of a thousand yards, aren't you, sir?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's just a safety precaution, in case Fett doesn't like my resignation."

"As you wish, sir."

There's nothing wrong with a little insurance, I thought grimly, except that if Fett makes me detonate those, then we're both dead anyways.

Let's hope he doesn't mind me forgetting to give him two weeks notice.

... ... ...

... ... ...

I landed the DarkRider in a forest clearing a dozen yards away from the shield generator, placing it beside the Slave II and setting the engines to standby.

Proceeding over to the ramp, I stopped and took a moment to look myself over in the holomirror. I'd chosen my standard stormtrooper armor painted in forest hues with black tiger stripes, an Alliance A320 blaster rifle, both of my blaster revolvers, my vibroblade, three thermal detonators, E-12 blaster pistol, and spare power packs. Last, I grabbed the small detonator disguised as a comlink, and stashed it in my belt.

I hope I don't have to use it, but I'd rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.

I took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for the impending gunfight.

After a moment of silence, I slapped the ramp controls.

"Dexter," I called, one last comand before I set off, "Activate the D-60s. Have them on standby in case I need them."

I marched down the ramp, blaster rifle in hand, and crossed into the daylight. Fett stood in the center of the clearing, surrounded by the other mercenaries. From this distance, I only recognized two of them. There were three human males, one Bothan, and a Rodian. I knew who one of the humans was, and the Bothan. The human, much to my displeasure, was Cordellis Freen, a small time bounty hunter I'd ran into a few years ago on Dantooine when I'd scored a lucky hit and obtained the chance to bounce Neslan Price off every solid surface I could find before turning him over to the Hutts. Freen was young, twenty-four at the oldest, but from what I'd heard he was pretty good at what he did. The Bothan was a demolitions expert I'd only met briefly, on a job that Fett had us team up on. We hadn't worked side by side, each having separate jobs to do that kept us apart, but he'd managed to rig an entire hotel suite to blow without being detected, or harming anybody other than the intended target. He didn't have a name I was aware of, only his alias, the "Vornskrr."

The other human was unknown to me, though I imagined he must be ex-Alliance, probably a pilot if his haircut and arrogant demeanor was anything to go by. The Rodian was definitely a pilot, wearing a flight suit and carrying only a holdout blaster. The Twi'lek was also foreign to me, but I then remembered I'd heard Fett mention a Twi'lek that had worked for him once before as a hired gun, something about the man being former Coruscant Police.

As I approached, each of the mercs offered me a nod of respect save for Fett, who simply said, "Finally, now we can start."

He tossed a holoplayer on the ground, and a three dimensional diagram of the complex came into view.

The entire place was simple: one wide dirt road that arced in a U shape occupied by twenty-three homes, one cantina, the main warehouse at the northern tip. Gates blocked off both ends of the street, and riot walls prevented a hit from the forest unless we cut through, which would no doubt set off an alarm. Unless we airdropped under the cover of darkness, which would only result in being vaped by the A2 turrets, we'd have to sneak in through the front gate. Naturally, Fett had picked a crappy mission with a crappy plan.

"Here's how this is going to go," Fett instructed, pointing at the diagram, "Lendar and Unkin, the two pilots here, will take their TIEs and hit the A2s early, hopefully wiping them out before they can provide a defense we can't handle. Both of you," he inclined his head to the arrogant human and the Rodian, "Those towers should go fast, in one pass at the most. The second you open fire, three X-4 gunships are going to be coming in hot. Make a second pass and bring them down before they can even get formed up. If we're not done by then, give us air cover. The rest of us are going in on foot through the East entrance. The Vornskrr will blow the gate with some kind of silent charge he's got, then he's going to hang back while the Blue Fox, Freen, and I engage the towers and the guard and then he'll come up behind us and place a charge on each building here to level it when we leave. Yes, each worker is also a guard. Whatever company set this place up gave them each a blaster. That puts our number at about fifty in opposition. Should only be small arms fire, but they've got numbers. The strategy is to take cover behind one house and fight intelligently. Every third house, there's a guard tower- nothing more than a raised platform to see over the houses- so we'll island hop from one house to the next until we're in the warehouse. Once we're inside, we make sure the complex overseer is eliminated. The employer wants to see him die, so we'll do it in front of a holo. We don't touch the merchandise inside, none of us have time to deal with having a bounty set out on us. It's just medical equipment anyways, so the contract says. Any questions?"

Nobody spoke.

"Good," Fett pressed on, "We jammed their scanners so we don't have to worry about them knowing we're here. Our only issue is that they might just flee out the West entrance. If they do that, you pilots might have to hunt them through the forest."

I shook my head, "No, I can do better," I tapped my earpiece, "Dexter, send Black Group to spread out and cover the west entrance. Nobody leaves that isn't one of us."

"Yes, Master Fox."

I nodded to Fett, "Done. I've got my own droids covering that area."

Fett nodded sharply, "Then we're ready to be off. Saddle up, ladies. This isn't going to be fun."

... ... ...

... ... ...

Coruscant, Imperial Sector, Jedi Temple.

34 ABY.

Jedi Knight Talos Secura.

I'd finally put all the pieces together.

It had been two years since my chaotic, frightening mission alongside the Blue Fox mercenary had revealed the existence of surviving Reborn, warriors given Force sensitivity by the Dark Jedi Tavion Axmis and Desann via the Scepter of Ragnos. The Jedi, and the Jedi alone, knew that very few had managed to escape custody, now serving as mercenaries alongside various factions. But for one to have been a Master was alarming indeed. Weak in the force, even the strongest Reborn could only match up to an average Padawan learner. However, they were expert swordsman, and they'd learned to use what minimal Force strength they had to become experts at trickery and underhanded moves. The idea of a reformed Reborn army was as dangerous to the present day Jedi as the ancient Brotherhood of Darkness had been to the Old Republic.

So I'd taken a leave of absence from my duties as a Jedi Knight, and turned to our Scholars. I'd done my homework, and now it was time to present my findings- horrible as they were- to Jedi Grand Master Luke Skywalker, my former mentor.

I crossed the Council Chamber, stopping before Skywalker's seat atop the Temple's tallest tower, patiently waiting to be recognized.

Luke was wearing his traditional tight black tunic with matching boots and gloves. His blonde hair was well groomed and shone in the evening light that poured through the windows that encircled the tower. Skywalker was not a particularly large man, standing at five-ten weighing one-fifty-five, though his unmatched strength with the Force radiated from him like a roaring bonfire amongst candles.

"Talos Secura," he said softly, placing his datapad on the stand beside his seat and offering me a kind smile, "You have news for me. Yet, I don't believe I will enjoy hearing it, even if I enjoy your company," he waved a hand at the seat next to me, the seat belonging to Master Lothar, "Please, sit down."

I dipped my head in respect, taking the seat. "Master," I began, my well rehearsed speech ready to unfold, "I have spent a long time studying this Reborn menace, and their connection to recent events."

"Go ahead," Luke said politely, "I am ready."

I took a deep breath, calming myself before I began. "Two years ago, we discovered that the Blackwing virus had been rediscovered and experimented with aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer, the Red Glare. The ship fell prey to the undead created by the virus, and we destroyed it entirely. When we chased the escape pod down to the planet, we found that a Reborn was behind it, and that Delta Base was gone. The Reborn had said, 'We have the Blackwing'. We shut down the Blackwing project, but the group itself is still out there. There was a symbol tattooed on the Reborn's arm, a symbol we linked back to the Imperial one-forty-first, the personal crest of Admiral Krone. As you know, Krone went rogue and assisted the Reborn during the Ragnos Crisis. We know Krone was killed on Korriban when Tavion fell to Master Korr, and the one-forty-first vanished," I held up a hand, "Now, that's where the Jedi were wrong. Within the ranks of the Reborn, Desann had an elite group of Masters, men with actual Force-sensitivity, that he called the Justiciars. They had been the bridge between Krone and Desann, and later Tavion. Naturally, they took over Krone's symbol. The Master I slew on Hoth was one of the Justiciars.

"They were never found when the Republic rounded up the Reborn. It took all of my skill to get this information, Master, using every mind trick and every iota of speechcraft I possess. People do not speak of such information easily, and it cost me over thirty thousand credits to bribe former Imperial agents to talk. Also," I scooted closer in my seat, eager to explain, "Master, as we know, the Dreadnought Grey Shade was attacked and destroyed three days ago. We also know that I was selected, by you personally, to choose the hiding place for the Jewel of Dathomir. The Jewel is one of the ancient Force-storage devices from the Ancient Sith. The Scepter was one, and the Jewel its counterpart. If the dark side ever obtained the Jewel, they could essentially build an army of false Sith once again. What you didn't know," I tried hard, and failed, to hide my guilt, "Was that I chose to hide the Jewel in plain sight. Master, I put it back on the Grey Shade. I never thought anyone would believe it would go back to the same place. I personally inspected the wreckage, and it's gone. Now, there's strange tremors in the Force, and all traces of the Reborn have vanished. Master, they're rebuilding somewhere. Something's going on, and it's huge. Bigger than Ragnos ever was. Dathomir has a hand in this, the Witches down there are doing something, I just can't prove it. The Empire is slowly trying to rebuild, unifying themselves under a handful of warlords and beginning to centralize their forces. It is my personal belief that the next great galactic war is close at hand."

For a long minute, Master Luke did not speak. After he took a breath, he said, "We cannot land on Dathomir to investigate, it's in the center of Imperial Space. And to make it worse, I can second your statement about strange tremors in the Force. A week ago, Master Katarn and I were at the Alliance's border, less than four parsecs from Dathomir, and we both felt a great disturbance. The Empire's localizing, and becoming ever more bold. I agree with you, Talos, I do. However, we must take advantage of this lapse in time. Even if a storm is coming, we must take this time during the calm to help the Alliance rebuild. It is our duty as guardians of peace and justice. Should this issue ever arise, we as Jedi must be ready, with the Alliance at our backs. Thank you for dedicating yourself to answering the questions we needed answered, but the rest is shrouded in shadow to all of us until such a time when the Dark Side reveals itself."

I nodded, glad he had taken it seriously. Though his answer was not a direct to action response, it was as I expected. I could not hope for the Jedi to march on Dathomir and leave the Alliance unprotected. To go to war with what could very well just be a case of the Reborn stealing and experimenting with the Jewel to no actual ends.

"Thank you, Master," I stood and bowed my bead, "I will return to the Temple now, to train with the Padawans."

Skywalker nodded, "I would like you to become the Blademaster while you are here, relieving Master Korr. It is often said that you are the finest swordsman here."

I shrugged, "If that is what you ask of me, I will do it."

I turned to leave, making it to the lift before Skywalker said, "Secura, I promise you we will look into this. The Council will be very unsettled to learn that there is a dark side force building in the Galaxy."

Without a word, I left the Council Chambers, grateful the Grand Master would ensure my two years of studying hadn't been for nothing.

... ... ...

... ... ...

Forest Moon of Endor, Shipping Complex.

34 ABY.

Tonak "Blue Fox" Enos

"Put some covering fire on that damn tower!" I roared, rolling to avoid a stream of blaster bolts.

I pressed my back against one of the temporary plasteel houses, throwing the empty A320 rifle at my feet and drawing my revolvers.

We- Fett, Freen, the cop, and I- had savagely fought our way through the small town and to the cantina, the last building before the warehouse itself. The two pilots had made short work of the turrets, and had time to level the entire west side before the X-4s took flight and engaged. They'd been dogfighting above us the entire time now, ignoring the blasterfire and increasing body count below. I'd taken a shot to the forearm, my armor stopping all but enough of the shot to leave a painful burn on my skin, and Freen had a nasty cut on his cheek from a piece of shrapnel. Overall, we were easily pounding the guards, they having only been armed with pistols.

I ducked a stream of oncoming fire from the last tower, panting heavily and gripping my revolvers with pale knuckles. Fett was beside me, his armor streaked and marked with near misses. Freen had an E-11 with a scope and a folding stock, black carbon scoring adorning his face and exposed arms. It was mostly the towers that posed a threat, the guards hiding behind thick steel plates and burning up the seemingly endless power packs in rotary blasters. We'd land a shot on the tower gunner, fight through the workers, then take the forward position, and repeat.

But I was no longer certain we could take this complex, unless I had some sort of ground advantage.

Lucky for me, I thought, I do have that advantage.

I returned fire, folding up a worker that tried to dart across the street with one well placed shot, then went back to cover and tapped my earpiece. "Dexter!" I roared over the din of gunfire, "Send the D-60s to the west side, attack the warehouse and draw their attention!"

"Yes, right away Master Fox."

I peered around the corner, pouring some fire on the tower to keep the gunner at bay. Retreating, I tapped Fett on the shoulder and shouted, "I've got my droids firing on the warehouse to divide their forces!"

Fett offered a short, curt nod as response, and returned to the fighting.

Freen came up behind me, and placed and on my wrist. His face was serious, quite unlike the joking, laughing kid I was used to seeing.

"Fox," he said, "If we don't break their defense, they'll just run us out of ammo, droids or not."

Damn, he's right. Even if the droids make it over here, we'll be out of ammo by the time they kill everyone between us and them.

I reached down to my belt, and pulled off my thermal detonators, handing one to each of them.

"Throw one in their direction at random," I shouted, a plan instantly forming in my mind, "They'll be distracted by the blast, and we pop the tower, then we move and shoot. We make our way to the warehouse and make a stand," I turned to Fett, "You fly up with your jetpack and then they'll be fighting on two levels, we'll take them in one volley."

Fett hesitated for a minute, obviously forcing himself to not challenge me, then snatched the thermal det out of my hand and hurled it around the wall. The Twi'lek lobbed his over the top of the cantina, probably guessing it would most likely land at the base of the tower. Freen through his as well, his leaving his hand the same time Fett's detonated.

"NOW!" I bellowed, leaping out from behind the cantina and marching straight up the street, blasters raised like a Tatooine gunslinger. The workers were collecting themselves, staggering to their feet after the trio of unexpected blasts. The tower gunner had yet to even get back on the gun. With each shot, I dropped one of the defenders, striding between the rows of houses like I was invincible, my mind completely focused. I almost didn't even notice the pilots still dogfighting above me.

From my right, one of the guards charged towards me, vibroblade in hand.

I halted him with a point blank shot to the face, burning a fist sized hole clean through his skull.

From behind me, someone fired a single blaster bolt up into the tower, their aim true. The gunner's body fell lifelessly to the street.

Blasters flared, bodies fell, and I was caught in the monotonous kill or be killed mode, my focus entirely on ensuring my shots were one hundred percent. After a few moments, the guards began to fire up in the air, at Fett, and Freen and I cut them down with ease.

Less than a minute later, the battle was over.

Smoke and carbon scoring filled the air, mixed with the lingering scent of death and blood.

Fett landed beside me, and offered me a nod. The police officer wiped soot and gore from his forehead, slinging his scattergun over his shoulder. Freen grinned, clapping me on the shoulder then taking a step back after I shot him a murderous look.

"Good call, Fox," Freen said, "They never saw us coming."

I didn't respond.

"Let's get to the warehouse," Fett said, "Let's end this and get paid."

... ... ...

The pilots finally ended their dogfight, and joined us in the warehouse as we marched to the overseer's office. The Vornskrr also regrouped, after confirming he'd wired the entire complex. My D-60s, having killed off the workers in the warehouse, returned to the DarkRider for maintenance.

"Remember," Fett said, "We're here to execute him on camera. We all have to be seen, so just stand by me."

I shook my head, "I don't show up on any media device. I'm just all static."

"Damn," Fett sighed, "Well just be in the line of sight and he'll understand."

We barged into the warehouse, stepping over the half dozen corpses my droids left behind, and proceeded straight to the only office in the entire building. Fett blasted the door controls, and the heavy barrier slid easily out of the way. Sitting at a desk in the center of the room, his face pale and sweaty, was the man I assumed must be the overseer.

"Now, let's just relax," the Weequay said, "Whatever he's paying you, I'll double it."

Fett switched on the holo on the desk, and punched in some numbers. A man appeared, floating above the projector. He was tall and thin, his face hooded and his arms crossed.

"Boba Fett," the man said, "You seem to have made good on your promise."

Fett nodded shortly.

Without a word, he fired a single blaster bolt into the man's chest. The overseer cried out, and fell lifelessly to the floor.

The man in the hologram laughed mirthlessly. "Thank you, Fett. I will keep your number in mind. The combination to the safe hidden beneath the desk is twenty-one, eighty-six, ninety-three, seventy-four. It is company policy to have enough credits, in hard currency, to cover the cost of replacing the cargo. You will find your payment there, in Alliance money."

The man blinked out of view, and Freen threw a fist in the air. He loosed a war cry, grinning broadly.

"Hell yeah," he said, giving the human pilot a nudge on the shoulder, "Nice flying, guy. I thought you guys were-"

And then Freen dropped, falling face first to the office floor.

A vibrolade was protruding from his back, and Boba Fett stood behind him with his blaster at hip level.

Before anyone could object, Fett folded up the Vornskrr with a one-two to the chest before mowing down both pilots. The former Coruscant cop managed to get his shotgun at hip level, but was unable to even land a shot before Fett removed a third of his face. I leveled both my blasters at Fett's chest, but hesitated when he held up a hand, lowering his own weapon.

"Relax, Fox," he said evenly, like he hadn't just vaped our partners, "We're splitting the two hundred."

"What the hell are you doing?" I roared, taking a step toward him and giving him a rough push in the chest.

Fett's body became rigid, and his hand tightened on his blaster. "You're a veteran of this game, Fox. Don't be so stupid as to think that we were going to go through that war out there and walk with under thirty each. I can settle for being paid a hundred grand."

I stuffed my blasters back into their holsters,and threw my hands in the air, swearing violently. "How do you expect to get anybody to work with you if you kill them off?"

Fett shrugged, reaching in the drawer under the desk and pulling out a stack of metal rectangular chips. "I don't often kill off my coworkers, but when it comes down to a bunch of amateurs then yes, I do what I have to to make a buck. Don't get so damn attached, Fox. This is what we do."

I shook my head, pushing forcibly past Fett to get to the door. "Take the money, I don't want it. We're done, Fett. You want me to shoot up a bunch of people for a paycheck, fine. I don't get all sad about it. But these guys were just like us, mercs. And you cut them down for an extra credit. I want no part of it."

I marched away from the Mandolorian, trying to ignore the five dead bodies on the ground, the men I'd been fighting alongside only minutes before.

From behind me, I heard a scrape of a boot on concrete, and instinctively turned around.

Fett was stomping towards me, his helmet off and under one arm. His face was furious.

"You think you can turn your back on me?" he spat, dropping his helmet on the ground, "Nobody just quits working for me. I'll decide when-"

Infuriated, I unleashed all pent up rage towards Fett, two years' worth of frustration into one straight right hand. My fist collided with Fett's forehead, and the echo of the impact sounded throughought the warehouse like a plank of wood being slammed against the ground.

Fett dropped his blaster, and staggered backwards against the office wall.

I was thoroughly impressed that he'd managed to stay conscious after a shot like that, but I knew I'd just started a fire. I'd just blasted arguably the single most dangerous mercenary in the galaxy square in the face. I unclipped my blasters, letting them fall to the ground.

If we're going to dance, I thought, seeing his weapon on the ground, then we're gonna dance fair.

"Fox," Fett said, lowering his hands to reveal an instant bruise that encompassed his entire forehead, "You just killed yourself."

I set my feet shoulder width apart, mentally running through every phase of my twenty years of martial arts instruction.

I'd need every bit of it to survive this.

"I'm nobody's dog" I barked, "Come on, Boba. If you want my blood, come get it."

For a brief moment, there wasn't a single movement from either side. The galaxy's two most lethal men stared at one another, neither willing to move until the other did.

And then we both charged in, hands raised.

Fett was the first to attack, throwing a lightning fast one-two, both landing. I felt my nose crack, not breaking, but enough to open up a steady flow of blood down into my mouth and across my chin. I ducked a hook, driving a short choppy left to Fett's abdomen, slowing his forward advance to a near halt. I came upstairs with a vicious elbow, connecting with Fett's cheek while I simultaneously slapped his right hand out of the way with my left. I seized the moment to gain control over his head with both hands, forcing him into a clinch. I brought a knee up as I shoved his head down, trying to put him out. But Fett was no common footsoldier or smuggler, and he threw an arm out and cut off my momentum. Driving forward, the bounty hunter threw me back, kicking a foot out and tripping me with a brilliant Jako takedown. We tumbled to the ground, both instantly landing and beginning to execute Type II ground techniques. Fett dropped an elbow on my collarbone, then pinned my leg down with his knee, forcing his way into a half-mount.

I knew if he managed to get me in the full mount, I was going to take enough damage from above that Fett would probably wear me down enough to win this fight. I caught his wrist and drive my left leg up, throwing him off balance. I rolled with his momentum, landing on top of him and headbutting him in the mouth. I felt some of his teeth give way, and instantly followed up with a gnarly body shot that drove the wind from his lungs. But as I stated earlier, Fett was no newbie. The Mandolorian returned the headbutt, blurring my vision and kicking me off of him.

Both of us regained our footing, now in the center of the warehouse between the rows of unmarked grey crates, bleeding heavily from both of our faces.

Again we clashed in the middle, ducking each other's punches, blocking kicks, and countering. It was truly an impressive display of martial arts on both parts, especially on Fett's. I was the much larger, more powerful fighter with professional black ops training. He was the self taught bounty hunter, forged through the flames of trial and error. And yet he was winning this fight, even if just barely.

We battled for what felt like hours, and my arms became heavy, my breathing labored. Despite my impeccable cardio training, I was still growing weary of this fight, and I knew it needed to come to a close very quickly, or Fett was going to kill me with his bare hands. I fired a palm strike to Fett's solar plexus, landing the shot true. He took a step back, and I knew I needed to give all I had in this last series, or I'd be finished.

I charged forward, slapping away two counter strikes and landing an elbow to his jaw. I caught him as he staggered back, and kicked his right knee out, dropping him to the floor. Even from his knees, Fett tried to fight on. He yanked my vibroblade from my boot, slashing me across the thigh and then backhanded it underneath the plasteel plate just above my hip, in the soft flesh. The bite of the cold steel tore my breath away, but I knew it was do or die, and I pressed on with a howl of rage. I caught his wrist and twisted it with all my might, snapping his bones like twigs and drove his hand- the knife still clenched in his fist- into his own abdomen, the blade plunging hilt deep into his gut. I threw a vicious punch that would have killed a lesser man, though only managing to crack the windpipe of the legendary warrior, and finished by grabbing his head with both hands and slamming it with everything I had off the side of the shipping crate.

Boba Fett fell onto his back, spitting blood up onto his chest and face, his breath coming in short gasps.

I stood over him, clutching a hand to the long shallow laceration on my side, hot blood pouring between my fingers.

"It's over, Fett," I said, my voice hoarse from the beating I'd taken, "I'm done. I'm on my own, now. Keep your money, I don't want it. I won't hunt you, and you don't hunt me," I breathed heavily, my entire body feeling dead and broken. Fett just lay on his back, bleeding from his face and shaking his head.

"How," he choked, "How did you beat me?"

I leaned against one of the crates, my head spinning. "I'm better than you, Fett."

I turned away from the fallen bounty hunter, ignoring his sputters and labored breaths, and stumbled over to my gear.

All of this to kill off some corporate opponent.

I limped over to my gun belt, and then suddenly stopped, noticing that one of the crates had been blasted open. Curious, I hobbled over and peered in the opening.

And instantly felt my heart sink.

... ... ...

Aboard the DarkRider, Space above Endor.

"Master Fox," Dexter pleaded, "Are you sure you want to do this? Boba Fett is still down there, in the blast radius. He could be seriously injured, or-"

I waved a hand through the air, fixing a bacta wrap to my side where Fett had tried to spill my guts, "Fett's no doubt already in his ship and fleeing the moon. But I'm not having the Empire or the Alliance ever figuring out what was in those crates, and thinking I had some hand in it. Blow it up."

Dexter's arms flailed desperately, "But sir, what was there that was so bad that you're willing to detonate two seismic charges?"

I laid my head back on the headrest, taking a few breaths to ensure my lungs were still functional. "The crates were full of Hevedra Dust," I said slowly.

"I am not familiar with Hevedra Dust, sir."

"Lucky you. Hevedra is used to eat through living flesh, it's a torture powder used by the Trandoshans for thousands of years, and one of their closely guarded resources. See, the Hevedra Scrub only grows in some parts, and only on Trandosha. It's a biological weapon, a flesh eating agent."

"But sir," Dexter pleaded, "Why would Trandosha ship torture weapons? They're friendly to the Alliance."

I resisted a shrug, knowing it would be incredibly painful. "I don't know, and I don't care. Blow it up, make sure it never gets used. Even I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

Dexter's mechanical voice simulated a sigh, "As you wish, sir," there was a pause while he sent the signal, then, "It is done. Would you like me to pilot the ship?"

I shook my head, "I've got it set for Naboo. Just sit back and enjoy the ride, Dex."

"Yes, Master Fox."

The droid turned to leave, pressing the door controls.

"Dex," I called.

"Yes, sir?"

"On second thought," I said, "Bring me a drink. I've got a killer headache."

"Yes, Master Fox."

...