Chapter 1
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Take good care of her," Anmei Van-Dessel begged no one in
particular, as she
tucked her daughter into the Freeflight's last escape pod. She glanced at
the hidden panel
once more, behind which the precious Nondiran Files were stored. Both they
and the child must survive, though Anmei knew that the rest of the Van-
Dessels would be slaughtered tonight, herself included. "I love you,
Sweetheart," she whispered into her commlink--which was recorded inside the
escape pod-placing her hand on the launch control, "may the Force be with
you." It took all of the woman's willpower to launch the escape pod, but
the sound of her daughter's depart on the other side of the airlock door
galvanized her into action.
The vibrations of explosions and blaster-fire were getting more violent, but the invaders would not get Anmei Van-Dessel without a fight. Reaching into a secret wall recess, she pulled out her most accurate blaster and slipped behind a statue as a tall, forbidding figure, flanked by two mercenaries, marched down a nearby hallway towards the room where Anmei waited. As soon as the man entered, she stepped out and aimed for his chest. Anmei was known for her deadly marksmanship, and this was no exception. Even as two stun-rays hit her, the Matriarch of the Van-Dessel Royal House of Henber managed to fire. The last thing she heard was Kanruyen Branober's grunt of pain, then she slipped into oblivion. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kanruyen Branober had just awoken from emergency surgery. The wound Anmei had inflicted had not been life-threatening, but it had all but severed his left hand at the wrist. Refusing to stand before his captives as a wounded man, Branober had demanded that his personal medical technician replace the ailing limb before his triumphal march. The surgery took only fifteen minutes to perform, and another fifteen to fully heal. His waiting period almost up, Branober was examining the new mechanical hand. Suddenly, the medical technician came rushing in. "It should be ready, Sir!" he bubbled.
"What do you mean, should?" Branober's eyes settled on the thin, nervous man.
"I mean to s-say," stammered the technician, "It is ready."
"Right." Branober flexed his new fingers appreciatively, and the medical technician smiled.
"How does it feel?" he asked shrilly.
Branober glared at the technician; he was not in the mood for geniality. "How does it feel to have your hand severed by a blaster bolt? How does it feel to have your vanquished enemy scar your existence? Perhaps you would like to know?" Branober stood, towering over the fearful technician. His hand, now perfectly healed, went to his modified blaster.
"I-I understand, Sir," babbled the medical technician, "And-and I won't ask
again...."
"No, you won't," said Branober, wrinkling his nose against the smell of seared flesh. He kicked the medical technician's body out of the way, and headed for the Freeflight's main receiving hall. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Othenderto Van-Dessel." Branober's voice echoed in the circular room, resounding off polished durasteel and marble. The energy strip around the ceiling gleamed with light, reflecting the pirate king's forbidding visage.
A mercenary pushed an elderly Van-Dessel forward to meet Branober's gaze.
"Why do you attack us?" Othenderto, the patriarch of the Royal Van-Dessel household, asked peering through bruised and swollen eyes.
"The files, Van-Dessel, where are they?" Branober's gloved fist stroked his holstered blaster.
Othenderto glanced at the weapon, then at his family, then back at Branober. "I can truthfully tell you I have no knowledge of the files of which you speak."
"Can you?" The pirate's blaster was turned on a young Van-Dessel woman.
Othenderto's voice became panicked. "We do not carry the files with us!" he cried, desperation contorting his features.
"As you wish." The woman slumped to the ground, a blaster hole in her head.
Anmei watched her family members fall, one by one, until just she, Othenderto, and the pirate king remained. Possessed with a strange calm that even she did not understand, Anmei looked hard into Branober's eyes.
"Feisty," Branober observed. He flexed the fingers of his mechanical hand. "Feisty," he reiterated, "but see what it got you." Branober dispatched Othenderto with a quick blaster bolt, then turned the weapon on Anmei. "You're the one who hid the files. All I need to know is where. Come on, one little sentence..."
"We did not bring the files with us on board the Freeflight," she said, as the others had before her. And, like the others before her, she soon was lying on the floor, the feisty light gone from her eyes forever. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jango Fett's ship, Slave I, had not been a common sight among the stars during the last few years. A deadly and successful bounty hunter, Fett had never failed to capture a bounty. But now, recruited by the Kaminoan mercenary cloners to be a DNA donor, Fett spent most of his time in Tipoca City on Kamino, available to his employers should they need him. Fett had tired of such waiting, however, and had asked for temporary leave. With some resignation, the Kaminoans had allowed him to go for a month; a month that was quickly drawing to a close. The bounty hunter had only one week left before the inevitable return to the planet. There was one point of light on that looming horizon, however: Jango's personal clone, Boba, would be old enough to begin training when his "father" returned. This would keep him busy enough, Fett had decided.
Fett had just delivered some "hard merchandise," the term bounty hunters used to refer to their captives, to the bounty poster. Restless, Fett punched the speed controls down all the way in a mad pursuit of nothing at all.
Jango had not been zooming through space long when a warning light appeared on his sensor board: a ship! Slowing down instantly, Fett queried his computer as to the nature of the approaching vessel. The bounty hunter was quickly made aware that this was an escape pod, heading, as the pods were programmed to do, for the nearest planet. That would be Tatooine, a backwater, criminal-infested desert planet, on the outer rim of the galaxy. Some of Fett's best employers were stationed on that planet, and Jango knew it well. Finding the pod on Tatooine would be simple, if done correctly, and Fett had no intention to do otherwise. He wasted no time in locking his tracking sensor on the pod, then following it towards the dusty brown planet. While he tailed the escape pod, Jango scanned it for living creatures, then blinked in surprise. There was only one life form aboard: a very small one, only 26 inches tall. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Branober sat in his ship, the Deviator, drumming his mechanical fingers on the armrest of his chair. Commander Kyjark, leader of his mercenary forces, approached with long, purposeful strides.
"Well?" Branober asked impatiently.
"No sign of the Nondiran Files, Sir."
"None?"
The commander shook his head gravely.
"You are sure you have checked every crevice? Did you use the scanners, sift through every speck of dust? They had those files on board..."
"Sir, every inch of the Freeflight has been gone over with a fine- toothed comb. There is nothing to be found." Kyjark's face was expressionless as he delivered his repor. "But, sir, there was an escape pod fired during the takeover. Pod R788JQ from sector 58."
"Commander, pinpoint the exact location of the pod's ejection. I want to know what planet it traveled to. The files were in that pod."
"Yes, Sir."
"Oh, and Kyjark? Inform Captain Nevvu to set his course for Henber. We'll pay a little visit to the Van-Dessel house." As the mercenary commander strode away, Branober envisioned a smoldering wreak in the middle of Henber's spotless capital, Shanwhir. "Just a quick, meaningful visit," he chuckled. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"A baby!" Jango Fett was incredulous. He roughly scooped the infant out of the escape pod, then carried it back to Slave I. While the baby slept in the cockpit, Jango brought the escape pod on board, after which he climbed up the ladder to regard his new acquisition.
The baby was asleep on Jango's cockpit chair, one tiny pink hand curled up in a sleepy fist. If Jango had ever felt compassion before, he would have now. As it was, however, the bounty hunter's inward shell was as strong as his Mandalorian armor, and he remained untouched.
Jango knew little about caring for children. His own clone, Boba, was in the care of Lama Su and Taun We, the Kaminoans, until Fett's return. After that, Boba would train with Jango, learning the ways of the most famed and feared bounty hunter. Jango would not raise Boba, but train him.
Of course this baby could not be trained, but there might be someone looking for it who would pay credits for its safe return. The only question was, what to do with it while he waited for a bounty to be posted? He couldn't exactly announce that he had a baby he wanted to get rid of. Better to wait until the parents got desperate; the bounty would be higher. He would have to wait.
Jango searched his memory for contacts who could hide the child safely. Finally, his mind hit upon someone: Eiben Stellar. The crafty old slaver had many children, ranging in ages, aboard his ship, the Marauder's Revenge. Eiben made a living off raising children to be sold into slavery, and besides, Stellar owed Jango a favor.
Jango put the baby in one of Slave I's holding cells so it couldn't mess with his cockpit controls, then went below into the cargo area, where the small escape pod lay. A cursory examination of the pod revealed the normal escape features: sparse controls, a viewing portal, small force field generator, and recording device. It was the last of all these that caught his eye. It was still recording, as the baby had been unable to turn it off, and must have been on since the pod's deployment from the Van- Dessel ship. Quickly, Jango stopped the recording unit and played back the message. As it was a very basic unit, the device emitted only sounds, no images, but it was sufficient enough for the bounty hunter to understand what was happening. As he listened to the trapped woman's farewell to her daughter, he ran a voice check. The computer whirred and bleeped, then a picture of a stately young woman appeared on the screen.
"Queen Anmei of Henber of the royal house of Van-Dessel. Deceased," the computer monotoned, then was silent.
The recording of Queen Anmei's comlink soon confirmed the computer's statement, as the anguished woman's dying groan gasped, "Annbri...." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The vibrations of explosions and blaster-fire were getting more violent, but the invaders would not get Anmei Van-Dessel without a fight. Reaching into a secret wall recess, she pulled out her most accurate blaster and slipped behind a statue as a tall, forbidding figure, flanked by two mercenaries, marched down a nearby hallway towards the room where Anmei waited. As soon as the man entered, she stepped out and aimed for his chest. Anmei was known for her deadly marksmanship, and this was no exception. Even as two stun-rays hit her, the Matriarch of the Van-Dessel Royal House of Henber managed to fire. The last thing she heard was Kanruyen Branober's grunt of pain, then she slipped into oblivion. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kanruyen Branober had just awoken from emergency surgery. The wound Anmei had inflicted had not been life-threatening, but it had all but severed his left hand at the wrist. Refusing to stand before his captives as a wounded man, Branober had demanded that his personal medical technician replace the ailing limb before his triumphal march. The surgery took only fifteen minutes to perform, and another fifteen to fully heal. His waiting period almost up, Branober was examining the new mechanical hand. Suddenly, the medical technician came rushing in. "It should be ready, Sir!" he bubbled.
"What do you mean, should?" Branober's eyes settled on the thin, nervous man.
"I mean to s-say," stammered the technician, "It is ready."
"Right." Branober flexed his new fingers appreciatively, and the medical technician smiled.
"How does it feel?" he asked shrilly.
Branober glared at the technician; he was not in the mood for geniality. "How does it feel to have your hand severed by a blaster bolt? How does it feel to have your vanquished enemy scar your existence? Perhaps you would like to know?" Branober stood, towering over the fearful technician. His hand, now perfectly healed, went to his modified blaster.
"I-I understand, Sir," babbled the medical technician, "And-and I won't ask
again...."
"No, you won't," said Branober, wrinkling his nose against the smell of seared flesh. He kicked the medical technician's body out of the way, and headed for the Freeflight's main receiving hall. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Othenderto Van-Dessel." Branober's voice echoed in the circular room, resounding off polished durasteel and marble. The energy strip around the ceiling gleamed with light, reflecting the pirate king's forbidding visage.
A mercenary pushed an elderly Van-Dessel forward to meet Branober's gaze.
"Why do you attack us?" Othenderto, the patriarch of the Royal Van-Dessel household, asked peering through bruised and swollen eyes.
"The files, Van-Dessel, where are they?" Branober's gloved fist stroked his holstered blaster.
Othenderto glanced at the weapon, then at his family, then back at Branober. "I can truthfully tell you I have no knowledge of the files of which you speak."
"Can you?" The pirate's blaster was turned on a young Van-Dessel woman.
Othenderto's voice became panicked. "We do not carry the files with us!" he cried, desperation contorting his features.
"As you wish." The woman slumped to the ground, a blaster hole in her head.
Anmei watched her family members fall, one by one, until just she, Othenderto, and the pirate king remained. Possessed with a strange calm that even she did not understand, Anmei looked hard into Branober's eyes.
"Feisty," Branober observed. He flexed the fingers of his mechanical hand. "Feisty," he reiterated, "but see what it got you." Branober dispatched Othenderto with a quick blaster bolt, then turned the weapon on Anmei. "You're the one who hid the files. All I need to know is where. Come on, one little sentence..."
"We did not bring the files with us on board the Freeflight," she said, as the others had before her. And, like the others before her, she soon was lying on the floor, the feisty light gone from her eyes forever. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jango Fett's ship, Slave I, had not been a common sight among the stars during the last few years. A deadly and successful bounty hunter, Fett had never failed to capture a bounty. But now, recruited by the Kaminoan mercenary cloners to be a DNA donor, Fett spent most of his time in Tipoca City on Kamino, available to his employers should they need him. Fett had tired of such waiting, however, and had asked for temporary leave. With some resignation, the Kaminoans had allowed him to go for a month; a month that was quickly drawing to a close. The bounty hunter had only one week left before the inevitable return to the planet. There was one point of light on that looming horizon, however: Jango's personal clone, Boba, would be old enough to begin training when his "father" returned. This would keep him busy enough, Fett had decided.
Fett had just delivered some "hard merchandise," the term bounty hunters used to refer to their captives, to the bounty poster. Restless, Fett punched the speed controls down all the way in a mad pursuit of nothing at all.
Jango had not been zooming through space long when a warning light appeared on his sensor board: a ship! Slowing down instantly, Fett queried his computer as to the nature of the approaching vessel. The bounty hunter was quickly made aware that this was an escape pod, heading, as the pods were programmed to do, for the nearest planet. That would be Tatooine, a backwater, criminal-infested desert planet, on the outer rim of the galaxy. Some of Fett's best employers were stationed on that planet, and Jango knew it well. Finding the pod on Tatooine would be simple, if done correctly, and Fett had no intention to do otherwise. He wasted no time in locking his tracking sensor on the pod, then following it towards the dusty brown planet. While he tailed the escape pod, Jango scanned it for living creatures, then blinked in surprise. There was only one life form aboard: a very small one, only 26 inches tall. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Branober sat in his ship, the Deviator, drumming his mechanical fingers on the armrest of his chair. Commander Kyjark, leader of his mercenary forces, approached with long, purposeful strides.
"Well?" Branober asked impatiently.
"No sign of the Nondiran Files, Sir."
"None?"
The commander shook his head gravely.
"You are sure you have checked every crevice? Did you use the scanners, sift through every speck of dust? They had those files on board..."
"Sir, every inch of the Freeflight has been gone over with a fine- toothed comb. There is nothing to be found." Kyjark's face was expressionless as he delivered his repor. "But, sir, there was an escape pod fired during the takeover. Pod R788JQ from sector 58."
"Commander, pinpoint the exact location of the pod's ejection. I want to know what planet it traveled to. The files were in that pod."
"Yes, Sir."
"Oh, and Kyjark? Inform Captain Nevvu to set his course for Henber. We'll pay a little visit to the Van-Dessel house." As the mercenary commander strode away, Branober envisioned a smoldering wreak in the middle of Henber's spotless capital, Shanwhir. "Just a quick, meaningful visit," he chuckled. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"A baby!" Jango Fett was incredulous. He roughly scooped the infant out of the escape pod, then carried it back to Slave I. While the baby slept in the cockpit, Jango brought the escape pod on board, after which he climbed up the ladder to regard his new acquisition.
The baby was asleep on Jango's cockpit chair, one tiny pink hand curled up in a sleepy fist. If Jango had ever felt compassion before, he would have now. As it was, however, the bounty hunter's inward shell was as strong as his Mandalorian armor, and he remained untouched.
Jango knew little about caring for children. His own clone, Boba, was in the care of Lama Su and Taun We, the Kaminoans, until Fett's return. After that, Boba would train with Jango, learning the ways of the most famed and feared bounty hunter. Jango would not raise Boba, but train him.
Of course this baby could not be trained, but there might be someone looking for it who would pay credits for its safe return. The only question was, what to do with it while he waited for a bounty to be posted? He couldn't exactly announce that he had a baby he wanted to get rid of. Better to wait until the parents got desperate; the bounty would be higher. He would have to wait.
Jango searched his memory for contacts who could hide the child safely. Finally, his mind hit upon someone: Eiben Stellar. The crafty old slaver had many children, ranging in ages, aboard his ship, the Marauder's Revenge. Eiben made a living off raising children to be sold into slavery, and besides, Stellar owed Jango a favor.
Jango put the baby in one of Slave I's holding cells so it couldn't mess with his cockpit controls, then went below into the cargo area, where the small escape pod lay. A cursory examination of the pod revealed the normal escape features: sparse controls, a viewing portal, small force field generator, and recording device. It was the last of all these that caught his eye. It was still recording, as the baby had been unable to turn it off, and must have been on since the pod's deployment from the Van- Dessel ship. Quickly, Jango stopped the recording unit and played back the message. As it was a very basic unit, the device emitted only sounds, no images, but it was sufficient enough for the bounty hunter to understand what was happening. As he listened to the trapped woman's farewell to her daughter, he ran a voice check. The computer whirred and bleeped, then a picture of a stately young woman appeared on the screen.
"Queen Anmei of Henber of the royal house of Van-Dessel. Deceased," the computer monotoned, then was silent.
The recording of Queen Anmei's comlink soon confirmed the computer's statement, as the anguished woman's dying groan gasped, "Annbri...." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~