A long time ago in the ruins of a fallen Republic…
It is a period of unrest and opportunity in the galaxy. The Galactic Empire expands control amid the political upheaval. Countless planets prosper or suffer under imperial law. Many flee the uncertainty to build new lives beyond the bounds of civilization.
Meanwhile, scoundrels, and explorers, expatriates, and fringers of all types scramble for a living on the edges of galactic civilization. It is a hard life, but these renegades have more freedom and opportunity than any citizen of the core worlds.
On the desert world of TATOOINE, a few such renegades have run afoul of a local crime boss, TEEMO THE HUTT. Amongst them a road weary MERCENARY still searches for his place in a changing Galaxy.
Chapter 1: In the Blink
A battered old Ghtroc 720, the Ao Var, arched up and over a rocky outcropping before careening back down to barely skim the surface of the sand once more. Exhaust from the port and starboard engine pods sent up plumes of dust briefly obscuring the half dozen single-pilot pursuit craft. Bolts of red energy sprayed from each of the ship's forward blasters. Despite being a large target, the maneuvers of the transport freighter caused more than half of the blasts to fly wide but the rest of them struck stitching pockets across the craft's hull.
The pilot felt the impact all the way forward in the cockpit. Sparks flew from several consoles and alarms blared. The freighter was not designed for combat and it was well past its retirement date, yet Madlyn Kallos, a young Alderanni female, had managed to coax a great many surprises out of the old girl. It was as if she'd been holding out on Maddy the last eight weeks and was finally showing what her brittle bones were still capable of.
The cabin shook once more. Alarms blared; shields down to 25%. They'd been lucky; Madlyn hadn't known the ship had shields at all.
"I know babe," she cooed towards the ship hoping that a little sweet talk will keep her vital systems functioning a bit longer. Next time, if there was to be a 'next time,' she'd drag Tersen Aboleth along with her no matter how much he hated flying. She could sure use the Lannik technician right then and there. Kriff! Slick's basic mechanical know-how would be a godsend at that point. It was physically impossible for her to fly and affect repairs and stars were they in need of repairs.
Madlyn keyed her mic and spoke to her only other passenger, "Jarek we've got a bit of a situation," the ship shook again as she banked left and right, emphasizing her point. "If you'd care to blast the scum on our tale, I'm sure the galaxy wouldn't mind."
Back down the corridor towards the cargo hold a man in full battle armor struggled to keep his feet. He made his way toward the freighters one defense turret mounted at the top center of the ship. "Working on it Maddy!" he replied opening a hatch and clambering up the access ladder, "Not like they gave us much warning."
"Last I checked pirates rarely liked to post notices," the part-time smuggler retorted banking again to avoid being hit. Jarek had to regain his footing before pulling himself into the turret seat and strapping in. "I could ask them to reschedule if it's too inconvenient for you."
Jarek gripped the turret controls and swung it into action. With a fully charged power cell, the duel barrels spat red angry death at the pursuers. "No thanks, I'm already wearing my good armor." He focused fire on a single craft. "Hate to be all dressed up with nowhere to go." A bolt took out the left aileron and the pursuit craft spun wildly before crashing into a dune. The following explosion confirmed the kill.
The remaining ships split up. Using their superior speed, they moved to surround and intercept the larger ship. "They're moving all around! Can't track them all! Kallos?"
In response, the pilot poured on the speed even as two craft swooped in from the front pouring on the laser fire attempting to take out the cockpit. The shields held and as they flew past Jarek managed to take down one.
"Splash two!" He cried scanning for his next target.
"Still four more out there!" Madlyn called out as she brought the ship into a series of tight turns amidst the dunes.
"I can count!" Jarek spat angrily.
The ship shook violently and Madlyn swore loudly. "Shields are gone!" There was the sound of steam venting and brief acrid burning smell drifting up from below. "Fire in the generator room! Stang it!"
Another pair of the crafts dive-bombed the freighter neatly avoiding Jarek's defensive fire. The laser fire tore holes on the hull plating near Jarek's turret. The Ao Var bucked wildly under the attack as if she'd been gut-punched. Her port engine clipped the top of a dune. The ship jerked violently before reorienting. Once they had settled Jarek was able to return fire. By then the pirates had zipped away to prepare for another attack.
"Jarek what part of blast them didn't understand?" Madlyn shouted even as she fought the controls to keep the craft level. Yet another alarm sounded only adding to the cacophony of the cockpit. The last attack had nicked a stabilizer. Any option for fancy maneuvering was being greatly reduced.
Noticing she didn't get a typical snarky reply Madlyn Kallos keyed her mic again. "Jarek? Jarek did you hear me?" Internal comms must be down. Stang it all. "Jarek please hit something!" she pleaded more for herself than anything. She may have had a pitiful life but wasn't ready to give it all up just yet.
At that exact moment, Jarek was letting rip with both barrels of the turret. His reward? A third pirate craft plummeted in a burning mass of twisted metal. "Ha burn you sha'buir!" he cheered. He was just about to draw a bead on the next pair when the Ao Var suddenly pitched wildly and he was thrown off target.
"Gah!" he shouted angrily "Kallos I can't hit anything if you can't fly better!" No response. Not in the verbal kind anyway. The freighters engines cut out and the reverse stabilizers kicked in. Jarek was slammed back into his chair as the Ao Var nearly flipped up onto its tail end. The sudden drop in speed caused the three remaining pursuit craft to swerve out of the way. By sheer luck, one was caught on one of the Ao Var's exhaust trails and couldn't stabilize quickly enough. The craft pitched and yawed before flipping over and slamming into the sand below. Unlike the first craft, there was no explosion.
Moreover, when the craft had moved to avoid the freighter Jarek had gotten a good look into its canopy at the pilot. A very distinctive and familiar "T" shaped visor much like his own stared back at him.
"Can't be..." he gasped.
Ao Var straightened and Jarek was able to shake off his shock long enough to realize Madlyn's trick flying had placed both remaining ships directly in his sights. Jarek unloaded everything he had left and brought both crafts down in twin plumes of flame, smoke, and debris. Jarek sighed with relief and leaned back in his harness. He had little time to try and figure out how they had managed to track him down. More pressing matters presented themselves. Namely the smoke that was billowing up from the cargo hold and the physical wellbeing of the pilot.
Jarek slid down the ladder and was dismayed to see that the walls and likewise the crates within the cargo bay were dotted with scorched holes. The ionized plasma bolts had gone straight into the contents, igniting them. Spice was meant to be burned at low temperatures in small quantities. By the heat signatures his helmet was picking up the Mandalorian had no doubt that more than three-quarters of their payload was destroyed or ruined by the ozone that was the byproduct of the igniting plasma discharge.
With that depressing thought in mind, Jarek made his way to the cockpit. Seated in the pilot's chair and very much alive was Madlyn Kallos. Though he was relieved to see his friend well, Jarek was too dismayed to smile.
The grin on Madlyn's face, despite speckled in grease, and surrounded by a barely functioning ship, said she was extremely pleased with himself. Why shouldn't she have been? Not only had they taken on six smaller faster ships and won but she had made the old 720 do things that the galaxy had never intended it to do. As a pilot that was a serious mark of pride, but as a smuggler, the loss of their payload was... problematic
It had been a hard run for the smuggler/con-woman/rogue. First, she had been ejected from Imperial flight school for "Insubordination" (which was a fancy word for 'stole a shuttle for a quick jaunt around the plant when bored one day'). Then her favorite speeder bike was impounded when she fell behind on her payments. Then Madlyn was arrested for grifting on the streets of Aldera, on Alderaan. Then she was transported for hard labor to the spice mines of Kessel, which was some Alderaani noble's way of getting back at Madlyn for something involving said noble's "Pride". Pirates attacked the transport carrying her to Kessel and Kallos was press-ganged into service. An imperial frigate defeated the pirates and Madlyn was arrested. Somehow, she managed to get out of that and ended up flying cargo ships for a gentle-being by the name of Teemo the Hutt, which was how she met Jarek.
In some ways, Jarek would describe the few months he'd known the smuggler, compared to the rest of her life as being the most peaceful and boring eight weeks in her existence. In other ways, she and by extension Jarek had been shot at by both pirates and customs officials and had to make many risky landings in remote and dangerous places.
Despite her long life of misfortune, Madlyn still thought herself lucky - and perhaps in her own way she was.
When Jarek removed his helmet and Madlyn saw the expression on his face her smile fell away. Her face only grew grimmer when Jarek explained the loss of the cargo and especially who exactly their pursuers had been and why they'd been so determined to kill them.
"Well...stang."
Pursuit Craft Crash Site:
The man grunted and groaned as he pulled himself from the wreckage of his speeder. The armor, scratched and scorched, had taken the brunt of the impact but several sore joints and potential bruises reminded him he was not a young man anymore. Still, he had a mission to do. Bringing up his heads-up display he attempted to contact the other five members of his team. No response and all their life form readings showed red.
He sighed. "Val akaanir par gar," he whispered before straightening and activating his long-range commlink.
"Overwatch, this is Watcher01, come in." His helmet's short-range system was barely powerful enough to reach his ship in Mos Eisley and from their get redirected to the other Watcher team. His Commlink clicked and he had to strain to hear the response, but it was intermittent at best. "I found Jarek. Sighted on Tatooine headed towards Mos Shuuta." There was static and he heard a broken reply, but it was enough to make out a response.
"If we are to get him, it should be now!" a raspy voice hissed over the commlink. The warrior agreed. Their prey was alone, save for that reckless pilot, in an area of space that was not known to be friendly to those with bounties on their heads, but still, the Warrior knew he was in no shape to take on the younger Mandalorian. Jarek had eluded him for almost four cycles now but he wouldn't let his pride be the thing that allowed the hunt to end before it began.
"Udesii ner vode," the warrior said hoping to calm his compatriot, "It is the patient hunter who gets his prey." He heard the reply 'been patient long enough' but didn't rise to the bait, "I'm heading to Mos Shuuta. If I must I'll call for reinforcements once there. Until then standby."
He heard his fellow Watcher growl in frustration but acquiesced to the older warrior's greater experience despite being superior in rank. "We'll await your call, ori'vod. Just save some of the aruetyc chakkar's mangled corpse for me." With that, the line was terminated.
The Watcher sighed before gathering what supplies he could from the ship and began the long walk to Mos Shuuta. He doubted Jarek would stay there long. If he knew his former...protégé then upon realizing his cover had been blown he'd clear out as soon as possible.
Unlike him though, Jarek had gotten sloppy while on the lamb. The fool had even kept the same name. Sure, he'd been effective at not leaving a clear trail, but he'd always left witnesses. Like all beings, these former acquaintances had been easily motivated by credits and threats to reveal anything they knew of the one known as Jarek Orion. Now the Death Watch had caught up to him on Tatooine. Watcher01 hadn't anticipated the skill of the freighter pilot and that oversight had cost him his team.
"Jarek your atonement will come," he breathed as he made his way across the dunes towards his destination, "I will guarantee that."
Mos Shuuta: Whomp Rats Den:
"The Whomp Rats Den" That was a charming and attractive name for a cantina if Jarek ever heard one. The indigenous rodents were pervasive across the lifeless rock and even making their way into the various settlements. The moisture farmers shot them to prevent them from damaging the vaporators. The Tuskin Raiders trapped them for food. Many more residents killed them for sport, and yet they continued to thrive.
In a mild epiphany, Jarek wondered if perhaps that was the reason behind the name. Despite the heat, the Imperial presence, the rival gangs, and all the rest of the ugliness of the galaxy, the cantina endured. The owners varied in survivability, but the cantina and its name remained.
Jarek knew all this of course. He'd frequented the establishment enough with Madlyn. Being the only cantina in town it was the only place to get a decent drink after a horrible day of working for Teemo. He had dragged Maddy's unconscious form out of there on more than one occasion.
Good times.
It was easy to land on Tatooine, but once stuck it takes a heroic feat to get off. Villains of all stripes come to this desert believing they can hide from their enemies. Thus, bounty hunters are never at a loss for jobs and many have made their names here such as Jarek himself and Madlyn's boyfriend Slick.
Sheer distance from the core has not lessoned Tatooine's role in Galactic history. Situated on the Triellus Trade Route near Geonosis, Tatooine's proximity to the Corellian Run poses it as a lucrative side jump for hardy traders. While the planet has never been the center of events it always seems to maintain a certain disreputable prominence in the affairs of the Outer Rim.
During its reign, the Empire has installed several governors to watch over the lawless world and most do just that - watch. The Hutts are the true masters of Tatooine with Jabba as their head. The vast number of miscreants in the population makes Tatooine a treasure trove of rumors... and secrets.
The dingy pitted door slid open at their approach and closed just as soon as they crossed the threshold to keep what modicum of cool air inside the structure. As always, or rather as befitting any cantina, the heads of every occupant turned towards the new arrivals. Leary eyes cautiously scanned over his armored body from the ironclad boots to the blaster pistols on each thigh to the distinctive "T" shaped visor of his helmet. Though most didn't know him personally, a fact he strove for daily, many recognized the style of armor. Very few outsides of the elite warrior class of Mandalore wore such garb. That reputation alone was enough for most to give him a wide birth.
Madlyn on the other hand barely earned a cursory glance despite being a rather attractive dark-skinned human female. She wore a well-used racing coat over the equally well-worn pilot gear and a blaster pistol on her hip. With her unkempt hair in a messy knot, she looked like she was born into the back alleys of the Outer Rim.
Jarek and Madlyn stepped down a short flight of stairs into the cantina's shadowy common room. Even though Jarek's suit regulated his temperature, it had trouble coping with the extreme heat of Tatooine's twin suns. As the cool air slipped between the plates of his armor and beneath his helmet, he felt a sense of relief. The nature of his job left him few comforts, so Jarek was quick to enjoy these small moments whenever he could.
The Deveronian bartender paused in his chores to stare at them, his devilish features going for intimidating but ending up just short of an ugly sneer. He had the good sense to look away and go about his business. He must've remembered what happened to the last bartender who squared up to the mercenary.
The cantina was in a typical layout. On a stage against the far wall, a Twi'lek danced to prerecorded music. Private booths line the walls, and the main floor was scattered with tables and chairs, a third of which were occupied by the regulars who sought an early buzz during the hottest part of the day. The patrons eventually lost interest turning their attention from the new arrivals back towards the dancer or their drinks.
By reflex, Jarek noted the only exits from the room were what looked like a storage closet behind the bar and another leading backstage to what he assumed was a dressing room. Thick heavy struts supported the arched roof above him.
They took their customary seats at the bar which was the least crowded place in the cantina, and each ordered a drink. They'd landed not long ago with what remained of the Ao Var. The loss of the spice was bad enough, but when Teemo's Technician, Tersen Aboleth, had given the ship the once over his prognosis had been enough to send Madlyn's normally cheery personality into a depressing spiral.
They had been expected to report directly to Teemo but were intercepted by the waiting arms of the Whomp Rat's Den for the desired respite. They'd need the buzz just to overcome the awaiting rant the Slug was sure to have prepared along with the running tally of how much credits this job would cost them. Might as well enjoy a drink first.
The Deveronian brought them their drinks and the two friends gave each other a halfhearted toast. Jarek having removed his helmet to enjoy the yeasty smell of the cantina and the various stilling scents behind the bar downed the shot.
Jarek would miss that smell. He'd miss Madlyn as well and maybe even one or two of the other locals in Teemo's employ. He wouldn't miss the slug or the heat of the twin suns, but that was little consolation to be leaving behind friends, but it was the nature of his life.