Disclaimer:
This story is purely for entertainment purposes. I do not intent to earn money with it. Star Wars is a registered trademark of Walt Disney Inc.
Critics and advises for writing errors are kindly encouraged since English is not my native language.
This story is set in the time zone of Star Wars The Old Republic, before the rule of the two, so there will be multiple Lords and Darths in the ranks of Siths. Any resemblance of the characters in the story to real persons are not intended. The main characters do resemble people I know, and they are well and truly aware of it. Without forther ado, have fun reading my story.
For C
Chapter I – The Pilot
So, here we are. Six long months of keeping my mouth shut have not payed off. No one came to rescue me, free me from this prison. I could have thought of that. The fact, that I am sitting here, without handcuffs and have to talk to you, tells me enough about this place. No hope of rescue, no possibility to see the sky again. And somehow you still have a use for me. Otherwise I would be sitting in front of the federal republic court for war crimes. You want to know all about her, I can understand that. But if you truly want to understand evil, your contrahent, you got to know the whole process of her being what it is today. So, let us start at the beginning: Myself
Whoever chooses to become a bounty hunter, must have a distinct deathwish. I have been taught and lived by five rules to have somewhat of a chance to stay alive. Rule number 1: Know everything about your target. You need to know every friend and every connection the target has. The easiest bounty could potentially have a distantly related Jedi cousin, a high ranked politician as a lover or even connections to the underworld that go far beyond your client.
Rule number 2: Prepare your assassination carefully. Ideally there are no witnesses, or you do not leave the few alive. Nothing is harder than the classic hit and run from the cantina after you surprised your target drinking.
Rule number 3: Always have a plan B prepared. The beloved carboniser could always have a malfunction or the target could be a fast runner. In the fewest cases, clients expect the alive in „dead or alive ".
Rule number 4: Grow on your targets. Of course, everyone wants to shoot the lonely farmerrebell on a distant outer-rim-world who pissed off the Hutt-Cartel and get rich with it. Reality though, is different and especially well-founded clients expect not only discretion but also success at different targets like a heavy guarded ambassador.
Rule number 5: Dont get close to your target. Feelings have no space in this job. Pity or even affection can convert even the most perfectionist Mandalorian, to a guy that fails at the job. Too often you pay the price for having feelings. The price being your life.
I made it through life pretty decent following these rules. Until my biggest job. A member of the council of the Sith offered me 500 million credits for the simple assassination of his rivals daughter. 500 million credits, or follow the rules? The rule being violated number 1, because this target had connections that went way beyond my personal set of skills. I never touched Sith-Lords or even angered them. My client was Lord Nox. He promised the rage of his rival would only spiral back to himself. Do not misunderstand me, I loved my job, however a bounty of this price range was enticing. You could throw away half of the price money in the casinos of Nar-Shaddaa and still go to retirement. Buy a fancy villa on the golden beaches of Rishi, free a young Twi`lek dancer of her fate and enjoy the rest of your live with her and then ten kids. During this timeperiod, I was already over 30 years old. And in my job, only the best could do it much longer, all the legends died in their mid 30´s when their body started to fade under the pressure of time.
I got into this job being only sweet eighteen years old. There are not many people that do this job out of free will. That is especially if you are neither Mandalorian or Trandoshan and do this out of your religious believes. But now, 13 years later, I was contacted by Lord Nox, not being a Trandoshan and not being a Mandalorian. He contacted me personally on my ship. The gaunt figure was wearing a pitch-black robe, his hood covering huge parts of his ashen face. If you are looking for a scary Sith for your next bed-time story, Lord Nox would be the ideal villain. His Backgroundstory was even more scarier. Being born a slave, he survived a dozen murder attempts even before visiting the Sith-academy on Korriban. Being only a Sith-Akolyth he freed an ancient Force-User-Eating Monster, killed his master and her master as well. He converted a Jedi to the dark side and murdered a member of the Council to take his place. He contacted me because I preferred to work alone, discrete and unerring. No Mandalorian with connections to the imperial military. But contracts with these high credit earnings always have a catch and by the force, this contract had a giant one. The daughter, was on her father's ship at all times. Even though she was of age for a long time, she would never be out sight. Lord Nox specifically asked me to keep her locked until his moment of revenge would come. What a fantastic idea, not only to kidnap a Siths daughter from an imperial Warship but also keep her until my client did his thing. I refrained and asked if I could not deliver her directly because of the high risk but only received a laugh as a response. Until Lord Nox found the right time and spot, he did not want any links between him and the kidnap.
Of course back in the day, I worked with some faces of the underworld. I worked with local enforces of the Hutt-cartel and some Mandalorian hunters, but at the end of the day I preferred to work alone. It was impossible for this job and I needed a crew. I needed a versatile pilot that could bring us on and off the battleship, a hacker that could open us any door and a gunner, because you always need those. The sith even offered me to get my three additional crewmates who would earn 250million Credits, in case they survive. 1,25 billion credits was the price-money! The winners of the great Mandalorian-Hunt were daydreaming about bounties like that. He gave me one Coruscant week to find my crewmates. And if you are long enough in the underworld you meet all the scum that is willing to sacrifice it all for a suicide-mission.
In the galaxy, you can find good pilots like sand on Tattooine. But I needed an outstanding one. Someone that can win a Swoop-rally with a burning engine, a broken foot and residual alcohol from last night. You will not find someone like this on every corner in the Outer-Rim. Someone like this does not swank about his allegedly adventures in Bars, he is living them and waits for a lady to ask him out for a drink. Lew Markrider was that someone. I met him at a job three years prior to then. He had the job to get me as close as possible to a corellian Jet-rail to get a Twi'lek rebel out of the train while riding it. He was not to keen to talk to me afterwards after his beloved ship Betsy was almost cut in half as we escaped through the Selonian-Tunnel-System on Corellia. But he was the only one I knew for this job. During the last war between the Republic and the Empire he flew jobs for both sides, eventually even for the Hutts, the Black Sun and the Exchange. I was sure that money would be enough to persuade him. He was not as hard to find as you might expect. He had an own site in the Holonet, so anyone could acquire his skills. Current position: Nar Shaddaa, apposite. The adventurers and the scum of the Outer-Rim met on the Hutt-Cartell controlled moon that had been turned into a giant scrapyard in the last few centuries. The shining Skyscrapers tried to exceed each over in pomposity, while the lower levels were drowning in dump. Every famous player, every Hutt and every underground organization of the galaxy had their main-, or secondary headquarter on Nar Shaddaa. The deeper you go however, the darker reality would become. In the lower sections, there was no daylight anymore. Instead you would be almost blinded by the shining LED's and Holos of the Bars, Casinos and Strip-Clubs. Every sense would be numbed, your hearing by the thousands of bass-sounds and the scum on the street, your nose by the gruesome smell of rotten food on the sidewalk and cheap perfume of the street hookers and if you were not careful enough, you would be robbed in minutes by local street gang scumbags. But the streets were a collection orium of different people. Noble aristocrats came down here to celebrate their bachelorette parties or to do what they called "action-tourism". And they were surrounded by poor refugees, drug addicts, all kind of criminals and people who just had no other choice then to be here, being in crazy debts of a local Hutt-run casino.
On level 32 I experienced an olifactioral spectacle par excellence. Rotten food from the trash fermented itself what smelled like atleast weeks. The smell was only beaten by the constant smog and the perfume from lightly dressed "dancers" wo could easily seduce tourists into spending their savings. The casinos on the lower levels were less ornated then their high-level counterparts. No gold, no fancy red carpet at the entrance. A Gammorean-Guard was guarding the entrance of the casino in which Lew was located. This chunky two-legged pig snorted a few words of Hutt while checking my fake ID, which would demonstrate me a as correlian ship painter. These mindless pig lookalikes were mostly hired by the Hutts because of their loyalty and their ability to rip off someone's chest with their hands only. One of the local native Evocii leaded me into the dark entrance of the casino. Music was roaring in my ears, as well as the alluring ringing from the gaming machines that would offer a win after hours of taking away your money. Normally I would never leave my ship without my dark green Durasteel-Armour but this was Nar Shaddaa and being surrounded by millions of Clanmembers I did not want to bring up any unneeded attention. Lew Markrider was sitting at an octagonal table playing Pazaak. In this part of the galaxy it was a famous and beloved card-game which mainly included reading your enemy and play foresighted. No problem for a pilot of his skills. I sat down at the other end of the table, with 2000 Credits starting money, Lew was making a face that presented his dissatisfaction of seeing his new opponent. "2000 Credits are not enough for Betsy my friend.", he ran his finger through his thick, shoulder long black Hair to catch a wisp of hair out of his eye. His bronzed face revealed, darkened by the light of engines. His small, upturned nose sitting well above his black stubble beard. It seemed he had not shaved for a longer time. Maybe he had problems with money which directly played into my hands. "After this game, you gonna replace Betsy with a Defender my Boy.", I replied self-assured. If you do not know what this is: The Defender-Class was a Spaceship of the Jedi. A pure gem of corellian building art. Smaller than a Spice-Freighter but even more maneuverable then a one-man Fighter. Even though they were officially just marketed and sold to the Jedi-Temple, you could get your hands on these on the black-market for the small price of 50million Credits.
I lost my first round, our only table rival left because I just doubled to 4000 Credits and ordered Adegian-Wine. Lew needed to be lured with luxury. Greed can be powerful ally to the cause. "I will not risk my head or my ship again, just to get an alien-scum back to the Imperials.", he said poised. "I am just here to play", I replied and meanwhile tried to find the microphone, which the Hutts installed in the table. It was an established praxis to „find cheaters", as the Hutts said it. The true reason was that many contract negotiations were held at the gaming tables. And the Hutts, the meter-long thick space-snails always wanted to know where their Cartel could snatch credits. A lightly dress blonde with a mountain of make-up in her face served my wine. She was obviously way over thirty years old, desperate to keep her lost youth with the help of cheap cosmetics. On the other hand she seemed professional, she must have worked in the casinos of the higher levels, keeping just enough eye contact to fake a flirt, but not being cheap or intrusive like her make-up. "You my friend, are just here to lose, and I do not mean our card game.", Lew scratched his beard, smiled and put down the next winning hand on the table.
On the left-hand side behind me was the camera for this table. I was searching my pockets for a holo-communicator. A circular object, which a hacker called Mako gave a fine tuning. On a specific frequency the communicator sent out an impulse, which could interfere with microphones. I had exactly forty seconds, until the Hutts would send one of their guards to my table. I needed to be quick and convincing: "We both know I am not here to play, I need a pilot, not a good one I need the best. 100 Million credits, plus 150 if we are successful. Which, if remember correct, is 249,4 more than last time we met, think about it, hangar 47. I purposely spilled wine over my trousers. „Oh no I am so clumsy.", I screamed, and a bartender immediately jumped forwards to my direction. In the same moment I saw two bald headed Evocii with headsets, listening and looking in my direction just seconds after that. "It's alright babe, I got enough.", I assured the bartender who handed me tissues. A few strangers were annoyed by my noise and also complained loudly, while standing up, blocking the Hutt-guards.
I was waiting for half an hour at my circular grey T-47 freighter, watching the droids filling it up with semi-decent Nar-Shaddaa fuel. The hangar doors opened, Lew Markrider looked a bit lost being only 1,80 in a 7 Meter door. I smiled about him being here and took the steps up the ramp to the inside of the freighter, which had two giant Engines at the back. I sat down on a black sofa in the lounge of the central area and waited for the pilot. He seemed happy, mainly because of the high price-money which he was already spending in his mind. He had no clue what he got himself into, I have to admit at this time I had no clue either. After a bit of unnecessary small-talk, he came to the decisive question: How does he get to earn 250 Million Credits. I asked him if the name of Lord Nox rang any bells to which he shacked his head. "I am gathering a crew. You, Either Amanda May or another hacker and Skadge. She is a famous hacker and he is the most brutal Hitmen who ever worked for the Black-Sun-Cartel.", my answer got Lew raising his eyebrows. "Listen I know you work alone normally. I just called myself up for a suicide-mission.", I had to give it to him, he was right and I had to assure him without scaring him off.
„I am honest with you, it will not be easy. Lord Nox has a personal rival: Darth Arkous. He is a member of the council of the Sith. Before you run off, we will not target the Lord himself. Nox wants us to take something off of him, we will steal it.", was my short and not so honest explanation. "I will inform you about all aspects, as soon as we gathered our crew. Until then, feel free to make yourself comfortable in the cockpit flying to Alderaan. Yes I know, you want to fly.", I was hoping to find the right tone, after our relationship of trust got a hit on Corellia. "Of course I am flying, after the tunnels I will never let you fly anything again.", he remembered me of our last mission. While we were navigating through the underworld tunnels of Corellia, he gave me the control while he was repairing the coupling of a broken spoil in the engine. During that, I did not keep my distance to the tunnel walls, which ultimately costed us half of the ship. It was obvious, that Lew did not forgive me my mistake, which is understandable since a ship is a pilots biggest love. These pilots are an own folk, not to be compared with us soldiers or bounty-hunters. They smell like engine fluids and live out there, while we run from job to job being as small time as possible in space. Lew was not afraid of space. The endless nothing did not bother him at all. He was a exploring-soul which he would show me directly. Between Alderaan in the inner centrum of the galaxy and Nar-Shaddaa in the right Outer-Rim were hundreds of star systems. Well, Lew was interested in a pulsar. These neutron-stars were extremely rare and were spinning so fast around their own self, that it looked like they would emit their light in two directions, more then any other directions. I remember the light in his eyes when he saw the pulsar in front of us, even brighter then the star itself. "You see one of these once every thousand lightyears my friend a pure beauty of nature, a caprice, unexplainable.", I did not think he was a poet but here we were. I on the other hand, was scared of this object, I was rather down there in the real nature on a mountain range or whatever I thought was nature. Lew grabbed a Holo-camera, doing thousands of pictures while we were circulating around the star and I was debating if I would die out of boredom before we continued our journey. "If I settle down one day, I will hang up pictures like these in my hallways. My neighbors would ask who was the photographer, I would say it was a goddamn legend.", I smiled that he had not changed a bit. He turned the camera off and entered Alderaans coordinates in our computer. "I think with our price money, you gonna have huge hallways. And the neighbors will have to walk a few miles, to get over your estate.", greed was my powerful ally, as I stated earlier. The more I lured him with greed, the better Lew would work when he was needed. So I was talking cocky about our price-money. „You know what I like about spending credits? I like to spend them, when I have them.", he replied which was surprisingly realistic and surpassed my expectations that I got from our past. Maybe he grew up a little, since we last met. "So what about the rest of the crew, why them and who?", Lew changed topics. "We need a hacker, so it's going to be Amanda May or her partner. Then we need a gunner and I thought of Skadge, he should be the right one.", I replied. Naturally most of the galaxy's underworlds knew each other. Not every thieve from Tattooine to Coruscant of course, but as I said I needed the elite and they at least knew the stories about each other. "Skadge? That is this Houk who was running with Scree am I right?", inquired Lew while turning away from the Hyperspace in front of us. "Correct. He may kill us all if he has the chance but if we look after him and offer enough money, he might be loyal enough to consider otherwise.", I explained and looked into a face that was about to ask if I really choose the right person. "May be the force be with us if Skadge starts to shoot. Maybe you offer him more money, if the rest of the crew survives, could motivate him.", proposed Lew and I nodded my head in agreement. The pilot had ingenuity and esprit, I just wish he would have had another fate…