Hope you're still enjoying the story! There's a brief (and very vague) cameo of a film character here! If you guess let me know in the reviews! :D

Offshoot

The Lancer came out of hyperspace in orbit around Numidian Prime. Zethu Desh leaned back against her seat, one arm still splayed out against the controls, one colorless finger taping against the thrusters.

She had a good feeling about this.

The green flash of her holoprojector caught her attention. Well, this was going to be an interesting conversation. She flipped open her channels and raised an eyebrow as the blue-gray holo of her patron appeared.

"Status update."

Zethu grinned, showing off her sharpened canines. The prissy little miss in the polished looking Imperial uniform did not seem nearly as amused. "Just got out of hyperspace, a little tired but eh, that's lightspeed travel for you. How about you?"

The officer sniffed. "You have been out of communication for approximately four standard months. Moff Gideon grows impatient. He wonders if his investment will yield any return."

Zethu pulled out her vibroblade, polishing it as she nodded along to the Imp's chastising words. "You never specified a time frame in our deal."

"It was understood that speed was of the essence."

"You hired me for a job well done, not rushed," she waved the blade at the holoproj, twirling it between two fingers. "Tell your Moff a good hunt is a long hunt. He wants a sloppy job he's free to hire any old merc he wants. How did his double dipping with those Korrivars back on Akiva go for him?" Zethu's voice edged dangerously low. "Yeah, I know he's hiring more hunters. They ever report back in, by the way?"

The officer shifted on screen unfomortably. "No."

"No," Zethu mocked. "Because I vaporized the bastards."

"Be that as it may, you are being given two months to complete your assignment. If by such a time you are unable to provide results Moff Gideon will recend his contract and with it all promised protections."

Her lip curled in a snarl, the blade drawing blood from the tip of her finger. "I'll get it done." She wanted to punch the satisfied smile right off the officer's face at her response. Zethu didn't wait to hear more, cutting the imp off mid-sentence with a sudden switch of the holoproj.

She was left alone in the silence of space yet again. The only sound coming from the occasional thrum of the Lancer's engines. She sheathed her blade, bringing the Lancer in for a landing. That former good feeling was rapidly disappearing.

It had been three months since her previous encounter with her quarry. Thinking about Akiva only brought on frustration and the urge to slam her head into the side of her ship. You should be dead! The thought came unbidden into her mind as it always did. The droids should have killed her, the fall when the factory was caving in should have killed her, the serpent should have killed her, hell, the earthquake practically did kill her. Why had he pulled her out? Zethu shuddered involuntarily. Wrestling with that question just made her feel clammy.

The ship broke the atmosphere and she piloted her way towards the jungle outpost. It was the only major waystation for miles. She'd set herself up there. Buy a room at one of the seedier dives, get some fuel cells, maybe bet some money on a race or a sabacc game while she scouted and waited. She had been tracking the Mandalorian ever since they had both left Akiva, always exactly one step behind. But his trail led here. As the outpost came into view, Zethu pulled the Lancer down towards the landing platform.

Engines off, Zethu grabbed a few extra blades and blasters, concealing them along the belt under her long, crimson coat. She hated disembarking without a helmet on, but until she had time to convert a suitable used one as she had the pilot's she'd have to risk it. By the time she had finished gathering her weapons her former good mood returned. The Mandalorian was definitely going to be here. Her instincts had never let her down before.

She paid the docking fees and made her way down into the outpost. It was exactly as it always was. Numidian Prime wasn't nearly as crowded as the joints she'd visited whenever she dared enter Inner Rim space, but it wasn't exactly a backwater dive either. The denizens were diverse enough that no one took notice of one extra face. Zethu wove her way over to the bar, ordered a shot of something strong, downed in, and remained perfectly perched so as to observe the crowds.

So far nothing out of the ordinary. A few Rodians were debating something in a rather loud, obnoxious tone, couple of Corellians at the sabacc table—no surprises there—and a few rather out of place Naboo. Zethu couldn't help but smile to herself at the sight. Probably some sort of delegates from the New Republic here to negotiate with some local crime boss. If she wasn't on assignment she'd have paid extra credits to be a millfly on the wall for that meeting.

A flash of silver-light at the edge of her vision banished the delegates from her mind. Even over the music she heard the doors slide open. Zethu saw the brief snatches of a familiar cape leaving the cantina. She was on her feet as soon as those doors shut again, flipping a credit onto the bar for her drink. She counted to five before she exited as well. The outer corridor from the catina was a stacked maze leading to other private areas, clubs, and gambling halls. It also had the nasty reputation for being heavily guarded, Zethu sighed, giving a non committal nod to two of the guards in question standing by the entrance. She couldn't pull blasters in here.

Still, she didn't need to be armed to track, and a single Mandalorian happened to stand out. She kept up a steady distance, her head low. He seemed to be moving with purpose. Zethu couldn't see the kid with him anywhere. Still, she could deal with it later.

She followed until they spilled out into a cargo bay rife with workers, droids, and—joy—more guards. Zethu stepped behind a tall pile of crates. Maybe he was just on a supply run. She was about to chance a peak over the crates when a blaster jabbed itself roughly between her shoulder blades. "Make a move, space scum, and you're dead."

Finding this contact hadn't been easy. It wasn't like he could go around asking for information on sorcery or magic, and he couldn't risk putting the kid front and center and asking if anyone had ever seen another member of its species. Arranging for a meeting on Numidian Prime was hardly inconspicuous. Din found himself constantly looking over one shoulder.

Just get the info. Get back to the ship. Get out of here.

He didn't want to think about how many potential bounties were right here in the outpost...or potential hunters for that matter.

A hiss from further into the cargo bay caught his attention. He was surprised to see a young Falleen woman gesturing for him to join her near the base of a freighter ship. "You the Mandalorian I was told to watch out for?"

"You know a lot of Mandalorians?"

The joke skimmed right past the reptilian woman's head. "This kind of information can get you killed. Even with the Empire gone. The Coreworlds might still have some records, any that weren't purged by the imps, but I bet the Republic will try and restore anything they can get their hands on."

"This is a lot of smokescreen for a simple point of contact," Din said.

"Nothing simple about it," the Falleen blinked her double eyelids. "You're asking about the Jedi—"

Blaster fire cut short anything else the Fallen was about to say. Her green skin paled a little before she turned and darted out of the cargo bay before Din could stop her. Damnit it! That was barely anything!

A pile of crates spilled out onto the bay and one pale white figure went tumbling into them. The figure, a man, stumbled backwards on his hands, looking up at his assaulter. And there, standing with two blasters aimed for the man's head, and with that all-too familiar vornskr snarl was Zethu Desh.

They locked eyes for a second and Din could see the barely concealed frustration at having been noticed. She turned her attention back to the man—clearly of similar race—she had on his hands and knees.

"That was a mistake, Atan," she said cooly, sucking down her anger, shaking silver hair out of those strange, colorless eyes.

Before he could get involved, Din saw two more cloaked and hooded figures jump Zethu, each grabbing an arm. He assumed they were both outpost guards before an elbow to the face tore loose their hood revealing another albino-white face. "Mistake's all yours, traitor," they hissed.

"You're not having a good day." He figured if she'd already seen him there wasn't much for it by enjoying her abject humiliation.

"I've had worse," she grunted before ducking under her two captors, smashing the instep of one and ramming her elbow once again to the un-hooded one's nose causing them both to release her. "Now what the hell are you three doing here?"

"We live here, petrosa," the man on the floor spat.

Din didn't have to speak the language to know whatever word the man hurled at Zethu was an obvious insult judging from her mild wince. "Atan saw you disembark at the landing bay," another woman continued, rubbing blood from her face. "Figured we'd never get another chance."

"For what?" Zethu actually laughed, swiveling around to keep her blasters trained on all three. "Saving your damn lives?"

"For killing my brother, you fucking traitor!" Atan shouted. "We shouldn't have let you off that ship alive. We should have thrown you from the airlock!"

"Hindsight's a real bastard," Zethu mumbled as her eyes narrowed darkly. "You didn't need to approach me. I wasn't here for you. Any of you. In fact, I had forgotten all about you lot. Thought you'd do the same with me. Now just...back off."

Din saw Atan reaching for a hidden blaster in his coat. He pulled out his own but the smoldering hole blown wide open through Atan's chest happened faster than Din could have prevented. One of his companion's, the bloodied woman began screaming a horrible grief-stricken wail. Zethu turned on her like chain lightning, leaving her body smoking on the floor. The last of her would-be attackers turned and fled, hood thrown back revealing the same white skin, grey eyes wide with fear. Their body hit the floor before they could get more than three paces.

All activity in the cargo bay ceased as Zethu leveled her blaster back on Din. Her expression was cool, but Din saw a startled, far-away look in their depths. "You didn't have to kill them."

"They interrupted me," Zethu snapped.

"They were your kin."

"I have no kin. And in a second your opinions won't matter much."

"WEAPONS ON THE GROUND!"

Right on time the outpost guards came crashing into the cargo bay, rifles drawn and circling the both of them. Zethu's fury never abated, and Din saw her making the same mental calculations on how fast she could take them out as he was currently doing. He'd never got a shot off with this much firepower trained on him. He was willing to bet neither could she, not even for all her preternatural speed. He must have guessed right as Zethu lowered her blaster and raised her arms in surrender.

With reluctance, Din did the same. There'd be an opportunity later, perhaps with not quite as many blasters trained on him, to make a break back to his ship.

"Alright, fall in line, you're coming with us."

Without option he and Zethu were corralled into the center of the guards' flank and marched out of the bay. Din couldn't help but look at the still smoking bodies left forgotten on the floor. Blood still dripped down the woman's face from where Zethu had punched her. Her eyes were wide, staring, frightened.

Din had thought they'd be led to some holding cells. A quieter corridor at least where he might be able to gain the upper hand. He had no doubt Zethu would at least work with him until they were out of sight from the guards where they could settle things, but instead they were taken to an even more heavily guarded location.

They boarded a lift and shot up to the upper decks of the outpost. "Ten credits they throw us off," Zethu whispered out of the corner of her mouth. He didn't know how she could joke around so soon after murdering three of her own in cold blood.

Pushed forward they were taken into a small, well-furnished antechamber. A middle-aged human woman sat at a rather starkly appointed desk, her dark brown hair pulled up in a loose ponytail. She wore a cleanly pressed simple work dress and for all accounts looked like a glorified clerk. But years spent working with the underworld had taught Din not to take appearances at face value.

"So, a Mandalorian bounty hunter and an Arkanian Offshoot merc stroll into my outpost and begin shooting up my workers," the woman spoke with a clipped accented Corellian and did not look up from her datapad as she typed. "What a strange day this is turning out to be."

Offshoot! The species name hit Din like thunder. That was why Zethu had been so adamant about her not being Arkanian.

"Mandalorian, you seem to be in high demand these days with the remnants of the Empire. One does here so many rumors in this part of the galaxy. And you, Offshoot, wanted for acts of murder, terrorism and sedition by the Arkaninan Dominion itself."

"What do you want?" Zethu cut right to the point. "If you wanted to kick us out or kill us your guards could have done that already."

At that the woman did look up, smiling through lips painted a bright crimson. "You killed three of my people."

"They attacked me first."

"Be that as it may, I can't be seen as letting you walk out of here unpunished. Bad for business." She folded her hands over the desk. "Mando, I'm aware you did not cause this unfortunate disturbance, but as I lose money by the second letting you sit here without me putting in one, short, call to certain associates of mine I think you'll agree to listen to this proposal as well, yes?"

Din gave a curt nod.

"Good!" The businesswoman had a pretty smile. Disarming. Din wondered how many unwitting people she had led to their deaths with it. "I have an ex-client of mine currently missing in action. To put it bluntly, a runaway. Went off to join the Rebellion thinking that might by him some cover, and it certainly did. But the war is over and I'm coming to collect. An absolute genius when it comes to hacking and explosives. I'll pay half for the body, full for return alive. 2,000 credits."

Zethu gave a disinterested snort at the amount.

"2,000 credits," the woman continued without a twitch of her smile. "And your lives." She stood up and approached Zethu, pressing the tip of her datapad stencil into Zethu's throat. "This stencil was a gift, you see there's a lovely little secret compartment here full of Synox poison. If you don't agree to my more than reasonable terms, we can always conclude our business early."

Zethu swallowed uncomfortably. "Alright! Alright!" The Corellian shoved Zethu's head away from the stencil and began walking back to her desk. "But I want it in writing!"

"Of course," the woman sounded affronted. "What do you take me for. I'll have a notified certificate sent to both of your ships along with your target's information and last known location. Happy hunting." With a wave of her hand they were both escorted from the antechamber.

"Looks like I can't get rid of you," Din remarked as they made their way back down the lift.

"The feeling is mutual," Zethu glowered. "Let's just get this over with and get back to killing each other, agreed?"

"Agreed."