((This story is approximately 87 chapters long and is a combined effort between myself (Rogue Trooper) and my friend (Kelly Black). The author of each post will be indicated, unless I forget. If I get enough reviews or feedback, I will keep posting. The events of this story take place 1½ years before the events of STAW WARS: A NEW HOPE. Please read and Review!!))
Disclaimer: All established characters (Darth Vader, Wedge Antilles, the Emperor, Grand Moff Tarkin, Airen Craken ect.) planets, vehicles, technology and stuff belong to George Lucas. I don't own them, I just borrowed them for a little while and promise to put them back where I found them when I'm done. Any other characters (Rehn Gade, Gellan, Drakahn, Barryk, Kren, Rage and various other characters) were created by Kelly or myself.
Chapter 0 (Rogue Trooper)
"Have you ever thought about what you're going to do when this is all over?" the question came unexpectedly.
"Huh?" was all Rehn Gade could say shaking her fine, wedge shaped head, her concentration broken. She shot her partner a glace with mismatched eyes, the left rich mahogany, the right glacial blue. The expectant look on his face told her he was expecting some kind of answer. "When what's over?" she kept her voice low, unable to keep the confusion or annoyance out of her voice.
"The war. Aren't you going to miss all of this?" Gellan Quetad, a blue eyed Alderaanian asked, gesturing around him. The two rebels sat in a darkened section of a seedy Mos Eisley bar. A third rate band played their version of "Red Fields of Ghorm" as the many patrons, an interesting cross section of the galaxies inhabitants, conducted business of the mostly illegal kind. The air was only slightly warmer than the Tattooine night and it was thick with fragrant smoke. His short black hair was tussled and his clothes were worn looking. The butt of his blaster peaked once in a while from beneath the flight jacket that concealed his shoulder holster. At twenty-six year of age, he had been active in the rebellion for six of those years, defecting to the Alliance after he had graduated, with honours, from the Imperial Military Academy. Gade looked at the hansom young captain as if he had just sprouted another head.
"Am I going to miss dodging Imps and bounty hunters and risking my neck on missions that will more than likely get my ass shot off on some Force-forsaken rock of a planet? Is that what you mean?"
"Well. Yeah." Quetad replied, placing his elbow on the grimy table and resting his chin in his right hand . His eyes studied her.
"Hell yeah, I'm going to miss it." she answered taking a healthy swallow of her warm lomin ale, her tone made it seam as if he had asked the most obvious of questions. "As to after?" her voice darkened and her eyes narrowed "I doubt any of us will be around long enough to see the end of this war..." her intensely cold eyes left his face and stared off in the direction of the cantina's single entrance. Her eyes reminded Gellan of those of some older, more experienced soldiers he had served with. They had an emotionless, almost dead quality. He had seen the same haunted gaze in snipers and those who had seen to much death and suffering. "Our contact is here." she said curtly, her demeanour indicating the subject was closed. Gellan spared a surreptitious glance in the direction of the entrance, trying not to look overly interested.
He was a burly Corellian 'trader', a euphemism for smuggler and pirate. He appeared to be in his late thirties, dressed in knee high bantha hide boots, brown trousers and a blue tunic and jacket. He had brilliant green eyes and long auburn hair streaked lightly with grey. A thin scar trailed from he corner of his right eye to the edge of his jaw. No one in the bar paid him much attention. Becoming involved in someone else's business in Mos Eisley was not conductive to a long happy life. Deke Kreever was a pirate/arms dealer known for getting hard to find merchandise, which was why Gade and Quetad had been sent to meet with him. The Alliance was in need of weapons and supplies as the conflict with the Empire had begun to escalate and some of their most important caches had recently been discovered and seized. Gade and Quetad were not usually in the business of acquiring essential war material, their talents leaned more to covert ops- killing people and breaking things.
Kreever sat down nonchalantly at the table. Quetad leaned back easily in his chair secure in the knowledge that Gade had the pirate covered. She was leaned back slightly in her chair as well, a blaster strapped quick-draw style to her muscular right thigh within easy reach even though her arms were folded across to wide, armoured chest. Rehn had one of the quickest draws Quetad had ever seen. The young Thalcein soldier examined the pirate through dangerously narrowed, suspicious eyes, her ears laid flat back against her head.
"I hear you're a man who can get things." Gellan said, his voice conversational, as though he were talking about buying a used speeder.
"I've been know to come across things from time to time." the smuggler said, equally affable.
"I'm in the market for some new toys." Quetad stated simply.
"Well, now. It's been hard to keep toys on the shelf. Suppliers are rather reluctant to share with the little operators. Acquiring new merchandise has become a hazardous venture." Kreever countered with an easy smile, scratching his stubble covered chin in contemplation.
"Life has become a hazardous venture lately." Gade said, her voice low and cool.
"True enough." Deke Kreever said, his smile turning to a confidant smirk as he spread his hands in a gesture of sympathy "The Empire frowns on those who take its playthings from it. The Imps don't really like to share, and they've been having a tantrum of late. Liberating this last shipment of merchandise was rather costly to myself and my crew, and I would have to insist on being well compensated." Kreever watched Gade warily, careful to keep his manor friendly and unthreatening.
The female Thalcein's frosty eyes never left him, in fact seemed to stair straight through him. Her velvet-like fur was a most intriguing shade of dappled gold, while her long broom-like tail, muzzle, forearms and the area around her large, intelligent eyes was as black as a starless night. She wore a battered bantha hide flight jacket under which was a green shirt that ended slightly below her ribs, exposing a generous portion of well muscled mid-drift. By the way the shirt was filled out, he could tell she was wearing body amour. Her three fingered hands sported fingerless black gloves, while a knotted purple bandana was tied around her left bicep. Her thick black forelock was pushed to one side of her forehead, and her black mane sported a brightly coloured bird's feather at the end of a single long, thin braid while the rest was pulled short and stood like a crest on her long, powerful neck. A white, comet shaped marking in the middle of her forehead lay between her widely spaced, mismatched eyes. It trailed a thin, 'tail' of white fur that ended in a lightning bolt of pink skin between the nostrils of her hairless black muzzle. Her long delicate ears, when not lying flat back against her head, rotated like small radar dishes, alert for any sigh of trouble. He could hear the lethal eight inch spurs on both heals of her three toed hooves carve at the central pedestal of their table. At only eighteen, she was probably the most lethal being in the cantina, aside from her companion. Gellan gave a reassuring nod. "You'll be well compensated my friend, if you have what we're looking for."
"I think I might. Seventeen crates. Top of the line, all the bells and whistles. Here, I'll show you." Deciding to test the reflexes of the younger rebel a little, Deke reached nonchalantly for the blaster at his hip. Before his hand had even cleared the table, Gade's arm shot across the distance between them, her black velvet-furred hand grabbing his wrist in a crushing, vice-like grip. Her muzzled face was only inches from his, her lips pulled back from her large, squarish teeth in a silent but very real threat. No one in the cantina paid attention.
"Easy, partner." the older rebel laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. Gade reluctantly released the smuggler, letting herself be pushed back in her chair.
"Don't push your luck." Rehn growled low in warning..
"Kriff… You do work with some hard-asses, don't you Quetad?." Kreever replied with a smile but with teeth gritted in discomfort, shaking his hand to get the blood flowing to his fingers again. He slowly removed his blaster with two fingers, the other hand was up, palm out in a gesture of placation. He slid the weapon across the table. Gade picked it up and checked it with an expert eye.
"BlasTech RX-659 Razortooth, medium military sidearm." she said curtly "Imperials started using it about six months ago." Gade slid the weapon back to it's owner.
"I'm impressed, you know your weapons kid. I've got six crates of these, seven of heavy anti-repulsortank type stuff and four of blaster rifles."
"How much for all of it?" the senior rebel agent asked his face now a stone mask.
"All of it? You guys must really be desperate." Kreever mused, eyebrow raised in speculation.
"How much."
"Fifty thousand." the smuggler replied sounding as though he had plucked the sum out of the air.
"We'll give you thirty." Gellan countered.
"Are you a comedian?" the Corellian asked, shaking his head " 'Cause if you are, you aren't very funny. Fifty, or the rebellion can throw rocks and sticks at the Empire for all I care."
"Thirty-five." Quetad bartered.
"Fifty or I walk."
Gade slowly leaned forward again, one elbow on the table, her long graceful neck stretching across the distance between herself and the smuggler. "Thirty-five. Or you'll be explaining to your crew why you walk funny." The pirate sat bolt upright, his spine suddenly transformed into a durasteel rod. He had taken on a ashen look, his eyes wide in surprise.
"You drive a hard bargain." the smuggler swallowed, suddenly breaking out in a visible sweat. Gellan thought he heard the man's voice crack. "Thirty-five it is. We'll meet at the old Imperial Customs warehouse. One hour."
"We'll be there." Quetad nodded, keeping the confusion from his voice. Gade, relaxed, sitting back in her chair. Kreever pushed slowly from the table and walked away slightly bow legged. Quetad looked at his young lieutenant questioningly.
"What?" she asked innocently as her hand came from under the table, holding a foot long combat vibroblade. It wasn't activated though her thumb covered the button high on it's handgrip.
The pressure door of the decrepit former Customs warehouse opened with a rusty squeal.
Weapon drawn, Gade stepped cat-like through the door, sharp eyes and sharper ears searching the poorly lit building. The building's offices were empty, dusty and silent, the cargo holding area was cluttered with dusty, empty shipping containers . Her hooved feet sent up small clouds of dust motes with every step. Quetad was close behind her, and at six foot four, towered over the young Thalcein who stood only five foot, eleven inches.
"Welcome to my humble facilities." Kreever said with a dramatic flourish. He and his associates, a fidgety mouse-eared Sullustan, an angry looking black furred Deffel 'wraith' and a poker faced Twi'lek stood near the seventeen crates of weapons. They were all armed, but their weapons were holstered. Holstering her own weapon reluctantly, Gade stepped to Quetad's shoulder and spoke quietly as they walked to meet the pirates.
"Boss, I have a bad feeling about this. Something doesn't feel right."
"Steady, Rehn. I've dealt with them before. They're a little shifty, but sympathetic to our cause." Beside him, Gade tossed her head and snorted, not convinced.
The two rebels stopped a short distance from Kreever and his men. Gade was tense and nervous, her eyes intently searching the warehouse. A gnawing feeling in her gut told her there was wrong. She was certain of it. Rehn had many such premonitions and hunches, and they had helped keep her alive. Quetad casually tossed the pirate a datapad.
"Just punch in the numbers and our people transfer the funds to your accounts." he instructed.
"Nice doing business with you." Kreever said with a quirky grin and mock saluted with the data pad. "Your associate has a rather interesting negotiating style. If you ever need a job kid, I could use someone with your particular talents."Gade did not reply, distracted. From above, a tiny sound, like metal on metal drifted down in the cool, dusty air. Rehn froze, long black broom-like tail flagged, her head tilted upwards, her ears erect and alert.
Rehn watch two small, silver spheres materialize from the darkness above them, coming from the high, unseen rafters. She realized immediately what they were. Gade started, giving a great explosive warning snort, her knees bending like compressed steel springs, sharp hooved toes dug into the duracrete for traction. The others looked up with varying degrees of interest, wondering what had spooked her, as the young rebel grabbed her superior officer by the back of his jacket and hauled him after her. Kreever and his men realized what the falling objects were as the young Thalcein shied and bolted, and they scrambled to find cover. Rehn had managed three giant strides before the concussion detonators exploded eight feet above the warehouse floor with a blinding flash. Rehn pitched forward, Gellan backward, as the shock wave hit. The pirates and rebels lay still for a long moment, stunned and deafened by the blast. The young soldier was thrown into a pile of thick plastoid crating, a sharp edge gashing open her forehead and cheek and Rehn fought the blackness of unconsciousness that threatened to consume her.
A brilliant flash of light lanced from the rafters above and hit the hairy Deffel who had just stumbled to his feet. He gave a snarl of pain as the blaster bolt burned through his chest, toppling him over backwards where he lay twitching. His Twi'lek friend soon joined him in death, half his head disappearing in a crimson bolt of coherent light. The Sullustan still had not moved from where the blast had thrown him against a pile of cast off rusted ship parts, a discarded coolant capacitor rod protruding several feet through his chest. Kreever made an graceless lunge for the safety of a pile of empty shipping crates, but made it only half way there before he too was burned down, dying with an undignified gurgle as he clawed at the smouldering hole between his shoulder blades.
Gellan Quetad had once been heard to say that only an idiot feels no fear. His eyes were now wide with the stuff. The world was just swimming back into focus when a coil of line tumbled from the rafters above and dark figure rappelled down expertly using a waist harness. The figure was easily recognizable.
"Kriff! Get out of here now, Lieutenant!" The senior rebel agent commanded as he fumbled for the blaster his concussed brain insisted he needed as Boba Fett drew down on him. Gellan's weapon cleared the leather of his holster and he snapped off a quick shot. The blast hit Fett centre mass but obliquely, and ricocheted off his armour as the hunter turned to the side at the last moment. Boba Fett's shot however, threw Gellan backward as if he had been slapped by an enormous hand, landing him near the semi-conscious Rehn who tried without success to simply move.
Rehn saw Gellan fall out of the corner of her eye and even through the ringing in her ears, could hear him scream in agony. Gade tried to push herself up to help Quetad, her instincts and loyalty commanding her to move, but the blow to her head had traveled down her neck and jarred her spine, leaving her entire body numb and unresponsive.
Quetad rolled into a fetal position, clutching his belly, his teeth gritted, eyes squeezed shut against the intense, burning pain. The aroma of charred meat, blood and worse fouled the air. He tried to remain lucid. Summoning the rest of his ebbing strength, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a ferocious snarl of anguish and hatred, Quetad rolled into a kneeling position to search for his dropped blaster, and found himself staring into the business end of Fett's blaster. He could hear Gade moan weakly off to his left. Gellan Quetad's breaths came in shallow, painful gasps. It was getting hard to concentrate.
"When you get to hell," Gellan spat through bloody, clenched teeth, his eyes unfocused but still full of hate "I will be waiting." Fett's only reply was to fire again, ending the gut shot rebel's agony.
Fett turned his attention to his true prize and was somewhat alarmed to see she was not moving, her face sporting two wide gashes and slick with blood. She was worth a lot of credits, but only alive and without permanent injury. She was worth nothing dead, and Fett's own well being would be in jeopardy should she expire prematurely. The hunter removed her long vibroblade and pulled her heavy blaster from its holster, checked the safety and removing the power supply before setting it aside. Putting the toe of his scuffed boot under her ribs , he turned her over slowly. She was limp, two hundred and forty-eight pounds of athletic dead weight, her eyes open and rolled back. Fett was mindful of her cunning and of her natural weapons- jaws that could crush his thigh like a twig and a kick powerful enough to crush stormtrooper armour as if it were egg shell. Her most formidable weapons, however, were the eight inch dagger-like 'spurs' that grew on her heels. Made of a substance much like keratin, it was much denser, strong as durasteel and kept razor sharp by constant use and honing. Fett carried more than one scar carved by Thalcein spurs.
He watched her with caution, ready he felt for any surprises she might spring, keeping his blaster to one side but ready. Kneeling guardedly, his fingers touched the sweat and blood matted fur of her throat, searching for a pulse. Almost faster than Fett could react, Rehn's eerie eyes locked onto his visored face like a weapon system's target reticle. One of her hands shot towards his neck, the other for his gun arm, her teeth bared. Fett jerked back and she missed his throat, but managed to get hold of the underside of his helmet, yanking him forward and off balance. Her right foot posted itself into his chest as she pulled him over her prostrate body. He could feel all three of her sharp toes gauge at his armour. Gade rolled, using her powerfully muscled legs for leverage and throwing Fett off of her with a vicious kick. The hunter rolled with the momentum, landing in a awkward fighting stance, losing his weapon which skittered across the floor and now lay somewhere behind him- out of the rebel's reach, but out of his as well. Gade flipped herself to her feet, her knees swaying a little with the effort of staying vertical, her eyes unfocused.
Rehn made a long feigning lunge and Fett gave ground as she advanced. She tried a low kick, meant to sweep the bounty hunter's legs from under him. Fett dodged nimbly, pivoting on his left foot, his right cocked and ready to strike. His heel caught her a solid blow to the jaw that spun her around. They fought in eerie silence, no threats, no bragging, only the young Thalcein's harsh, ragged breathing through distended nostrils, and Fett's more regular, controlled intakes.
Rehn staggered back, wiping the new blood from her face. Fett came at her again before she could recover, landing a punch to her sternum that drove the air from her lungs. Staggered but otherwise ignoring the blow, she dove at the hunter, kicking at his mid-section in an attempt to eviscerate him. Her spur grated the armor on his abdomen, leaving a new foot-long scar on the already battered equipment. Fett gave a grunt as he was driven back against a high stack of crates by the power of the blow. Gade pressed her attack. Unable to get to his chest or throat because of his armor, striking a mortal blow to the bounty hunter would be difficult. But not impossible. With fierce battle cry that broke the deathly silence and echoed off the walls of the building like a great bronze bell, Gade let loose a lightning swift kick aimed for where her opponent's groin and thigh connected, the place where the human's femoral artery was most vulnerable.
Fett realized, almost to late, the peril he was in. He dodged to the left, his only real option because of the angle of the kick, and felt the scalpel-like spur slash deeply into his thigh close to his knee. Putting aside his pain for the moment, Fett waited until Gade's back was turned for the fraction of a second it took to follow through with the roundhouse kick. He struck like a diving bird of prey, driving his heel into the back of her knee. Gade squealed in pain as the joint gave out with a wet, telltale pop. Fett pressed on, slamming his fist into the place where the back of her head and neck met. Rehn fell face first onto the floor stunned, her legs kicking out spasmodically. Limping, Fett jammed his right knee between her shoulder blades, his left pinning Gade's arm to the ground. Her arm already twisted at an odd angle, the pressure caused white hot agony in her shoulder. Gade gave a bellow of protest, the sound of two great rusted chunks of metal grating together. Her head whipped around savagely, jaws agape and ready to crush whatever part of the hunter's body was closest. Planting his hand squarely between her widely spaced eyes, he shoved her head to the floor and heard a loud 'click' as her jaws slammed shut.
Reaching into a belt pouch with his free hand, Fett pulled out a syringe containing a small amount of viscous amber liquid. Pulling off the plastoid keeper that covered the needle, he jabbed it deftly into Rehn's long neck. The syringe immediately began to fill with dark, blue-purple blood, telling him that he had found a major vein. The young rebel snorted, thrashing violently with panic, only succeeding in driving the needle deeper. The drug burned as it entered her bloodstream and Gade could feel her muscles begin to relax against her will as the world around her began to fade to black.
Fett felt his hard merchandise succumbing to the drug, a powerful sedative used by the Empire to keep violent prisoners under control. Her breathing stabilized from hard rasping pants into soft, deep rhythms as her ears flopped off to either side and she lost consciousness. Fett pushed himself to his feet, exhausted. His wound bled profusely, throbbing enough to make him grit his teeth in pain. He relieved Kreever of his shirt and used it as a tourniquet to staunch the bleeding.
Fett summoned his ship, Slave 1, with the com gear in his fearsome helmet, and used the minutes before it arrived to police the bodies for anything of value. While the pirate captain's men were worthless, Kreever and Gade's partner had moderate bounties on their heads, or what was left of their heads at any rate, and the weapons would be returned to the Empire for a substantial finders fee. His real prize, however, was the unconscious Thalcein. She was worth half a million credits alive and without permanent or debilitating injury.
While Rehn Gade was not the youngest piece of merchandise he had ever been hired to collect, she was however one of the more challenging opponents he had faced for some time. His prey, if they were a live capture, would usually surrender, cowering at his feet begging for mercy. She on the other hand had attacked him, not showing fear until she knew she had been beaten. Rehn was brave and resourceful, he would give her that, and she'll need it where she's going, he thought.
He had assembled an impressive database on her through his extensive contacts, so that he had been relatively well prepared for the eventual capture. An expert terrorist, Gade was a lethal machine. She and her partner had been responsible for multiple bombings of Imperial installations, the assassination of key military officials and the high jacking of a number of Imperial supply ships. Any one of those crimes was enough to earn her a long, unpleasant interrogation session and eventual execution, and Fett held the only license issued to bring her in.
Fett glanced at his prey. He would, he reflected, have to do something about the lacerations on her face, and would have to manhandle the dislocate knee back into joint, but Thalcein were quick healers. Her wounds were superficial and would heel in the time it would take for him to rendezvous with his client and collect his fee. Boba Fett did not often work for the Emperor's enforcer, Darth Vader, but when he did, it was always a profitable venture. Fett sat on an empty cargo crate to tend to his wound with the small emergency med-kit and waited for his ship to arrive.
The vibration and sounds of the ship were the first sensations Rehn felt. The second was the ache of her knee and the sticky feeling of bacta patches on her face. She could feel the soft material of her short sleeved shirt against her sensitive hide and slowly realized that her armoured chest plate had been removed. Her body was sluggish to comply with her brain's instructions. She lay on her left side and could feel the tube-like restraint that covered her from hands to elbows, immobilizing her arms. They were linked by a four foot length of chain to shackles that encircled her ankles, just above her spurs. Her shoulders ached and her fingers were numb. She opened her eyes slowly and almost panicked when all she saw was darkness, and thought she'd been blinded. The black cloth bag over her head was tied securely under her jaw where it and her throat met. It covered her face from behind her chin to the back of her head, leaving her nostrils and muzzle uncovered. Rehn was groggy, nauseous and her head spun -after effects of the sedative Fett had pumped into her. She tried to remember what had happened to her and how she had gotten into her present predicament. She searched her memory and as though from a dream, a battered olive drab helmet with a slit, t-shaped visor stood out from the other jumbled images. As she tried to concentrate, Gade became aware of- could feel -a malevolent presence and faintly heard breathing, muffled as though processed by a filter. She could feel him watching her. He stood by the bars of her cell, watching her with frigid professional interest.
Her mouth was dry, her tongue a thick wool blanket in her mouth and she champed her teeth to get her salivary glands working. A face suddenly came into focus in her mind's eye with painful clarity. A face grimaced in pain and fierce determination. Panicked, Gade gave a quiet, whinnying call in her native tongue, a call to from one separated warrior to another. No one answered.
She remembered Gellan falling and had felt his pain as though it was her own. Then there had come a great emptiness, as though some important part of her had been removed. She had felt something like it, only a deeper and more profound sense of loss once before, but could not recall why or where. Although she did not know why, she could always feel when Quetad had been near. Now, she felt nothing. She closed her eyes tightly in grief, exhaling as though she would not breath again. Fett unlocked and opened Gade's cage, a IV bag of saline and sugar in one hand, an injection gun of sedative in the other. Rehn heard his muffled footsteps on the deck and the muscles in her neck tightened, a coiled snake ready to strike. As he knelt by her head, she made a blind, clumsy strike, her crushing teeth closing on nothing but air. The hunter put down the intravenous bag and pushed her head gently to the deck with his empty hand. Her breathing became harsh and nervous, rasping through her distended nostrils. Boba Fett put the injector to her bicep and pulled the trigger, giving her a shot of mild tranquilizer. Gade's head jerked back in surprise and she thrashed feebly, too exhausted and dehydrated to even push Fett off balance. Once the tranq took effect and his hard merchandise had relaxed, Fett threaded the IV needle into the artery in the young rebel's sweat matted neck and taped it in place. Holding the bag above her, the bounty hunter watched it slowly drain into his prize. This, he reflected in annoyance, is why I hate hunting these damn things. Thalcein were notoriously hard to keep alive in captivity. They refused to eat, drink or cooperate in any way. When captured, unless sedated, most found new and interesting ways to get themselves killed, usually taking some of their captors with them. Most became so violent they purposely forced their captors to shoot them. Slavers had once tried lobotomizing their merchandise, but the procedure killed the females and made the larger males even more aggressive.
The Thalcein had been openly and boisterously opposed to the Emperor, but being a tough, well equipped and determined foe, along with their uselessness as a slave species had doomed the Thalcein. The Empire had engineered a virus, lethal only to the large, hooved bipeds and had unleashed it on their home world and colonies. It was 98% lethal and had driven the Thalcein to virtual extinction within a decade.
The IV bag emptied and Fett left Gade to her uneasy dreams.
"These are the alternate drop off coordinates. Your fee will be paid upon our confirmation that the prisoner is alive and without permanent damage." The holo of a tall Imperial army major named Selkin who was beginning to thicken around the middle, spoke in a haughty voice, his opinion of bounty hunters so apparent it may as well have been written on his forehead. Fett's teeth ground in irritation.
"That was not the arrangement that was agreed upon. I am to deliver the merchandise to Lord Vader, in person. I do not like last minute changes." Boba Fett kept his voice cold and devoid of emotion, though the annoyance he felt was growing.
"I care little for your feelings on this matter, bounty hunter." Selkin stated "These orders came from Lord Vader himself. I have not lived to serve the Empire this long by being foolish enough to question his commands."
Fett growled, stabbing the transmitter button and severing the link before the Selkin could continue his diatribe. The hunter was not happy. He did not like dealing with Imperial officers any more than he liked dealing with Hutts. Like the Hutts, the Imps had a habit of not keeping their word and not wanting to pay the full, agreed upon price for the merchandise he had worked hard to collect. He did not intend to get short changed this time. Fett cut out his hyperdrive and the tunnel of light around his ship turned from starlines into normal-space within the shipping lanes of some backwater world called Heberk. Feeding the new course into the Slave 1's navacomputer and waited for the ship to do the math.
Disclaimer: All established characters (Darth Vader, Wedge Antilles, the Emperor, Grand Moff Tarkin, Airen Craken ect.) planets, vehicles, technology and stuff belong to George Lucas. I don't own them, I just borrowed them for a little while and promise to put them back where I found them when I'm done. Any other characters (Rehn Gade, Gellan, Drakahn, Barryk, Kren, Rage and various other characters) were created by Kelly or myself.
Chapter 0 (Rogue Trooper)
"Have you ever thought about what you're going to do when this is all over?" the question came unexpectedly.
"Huh?" was all Rehn Gade could say shaking her fine, wedge shaped head, her concentration broken. She shot her partner a glace with mismatched eyes, the left rich mahogany, the right glacial blue. The expectant look on his face told her he was expecting some kind of answer. "When what's over?" she kept her voice low, unable to keep the confusion or annoyance out of her voice.
"The war. Aren't you going to miss all of this?" Gellan Quetad, a blue eyed Alderaanian asked, gesturing around him. The two rebels sat in a darkened section of a seedy Mos Eisley bar. A third rate band played their version of "Red Fields of Ghorm" as the many patrons, an interesting cross section of the galaxies inhabitants, conducted business of the mostly illegal kind. The air was only slightly warmer than the Tattooine night and it was thick with fragrant smoke. His short black hair was tussled and his clothes were worn looking. The butt of his blaster peaked once in a while from beneath the flight jacket that concealed his shoulder holster. At twenty-six year of age, he had been active in the rebellion for six of those years, defecting to the Alliance after he had graduated, with honours, from the Imperial Military Academy. Gade looked at the hansom young captain as if he had just sprouted another head.
"Am I going to miss dodging Imps and bounty hunters and risking my neck on missions that will more than likely get my ass shot off on some Force-forsaken rock of a planet? Is that what you mean?"
"Well. Yeah." Quetad replied, placing his elbow on the grimy table and resting his chin in his right hand . His eyes studied her.
"Hell yeah, I'm going to miss it." she answered taking a healthy swallow of her warm lomin ale, her tone made it seam as if he had asked the most obvious of questions. "As to after?" her voice darkened and her eyes narrowed "I doubt any of us will be around long enough to see the end of this war..." her intensely cold eyes left his face and stared off in the direction of the cantina's single entrance. Her eyes reminded Gellan of those of some older, more experienced soldiers he had served with. They had an emotionless, almost dead quality. He had seen the same haunted gaze in snipers and those who had seen to much death and suffering. "Our contact is here." she said curtly, her demeanour indicating the subject was closed. Gellan spared a surreptitious glance in the direction of the entrance, trying not to look overly interested.
He was a burly Corellian 'trader', a euphemism for smuggler and pirate. He appeared to be in his late thirties, dressed in knee high bantha hide boots, brown trousers and a blue tunic and jacket. He had brilliant green eyes and long auburn hair streaked lightly with grey. A thin scar trailed from he corner of his right eye to the edge of his jaw. No one in the bar paid him much attention. Becoming involved in someone else's business in Mos Eisley was not conductive to a long happy life. Deke Kreever was a pirate/arms dealer known for getting hard to find merchandise, which was why Gade and Quetad had been sent to meet with him. The Alliance was in need of weapons and supplies as the conflict with the Empire had begun to escalate and some of their most important caches had recently been discovered and seized. Gade and Quetad were not usually in the business of acquiring essential war material, their talents leaned more to covert ops- killing people and breaking things.
Kreever sat down nonchalantly at the table. Quetad leaned back easily in his chair secure in the knowledge that Gade had the pirate covered. She was leaned back slightly in her chair as well, a blaster strapped quick-draw style to her muscular right thigh within easy reach even though her arms were folded across to wide, armoured chest. Rehn had one of the quickest draws Quetad had ever seen. The young Thalcein soldier examined the pirate through dangerously narrowed, suspicious eyes, her ears laid flat back against her head.
"I hear you're a man who can get things." Gellan said, his voice conversational, as though he were talking about buying a used speeder.
"I've been know to come across things from time to time." the smuggler said, equally affable.
"I'm in the market for some new toys." Quetad stated simply.
"Well, now. It's been hard to keep toys on the shelf. Suppliers are rather reluctant to share with the little operators. Acquiring new merchandise has become a hazardous venture." Kreever countered with an easy smile, scratching his stubble covered chin in contemplation.
"Life has become a hazardous venture lately." Gade said, her voice low and cool.
"True enough." Deke Kreever said, his smile turning to a confidant smirk as he spread his hands in a gesture of sympathy "The Empire frowns on those who take its playthings from it. The Imps don't really like to share, and they've been having a tantrum of late. Liberating this last shipment of merchandise was rather costly to myself and my crew, and I would have to insist on being well compensated." Kreever watched Gade warily, careful to keep his manor friendly and unthreatening.
The female Thalcein's frosty eyes never left him, in fact seemed to stair straight through him. Her velvet-like fur was a most intriguing shade of dappled gold, while her long broom-like tail, muzzle, forearms and the area around her large, intelligent eyes was as black as a starless night. She wore a battered bantha hide flight jacket under which was a green shirt that ended slightly below her ribs, exposing a generous portion of well muscled mid-drift. By the way the shirt was filled out, he could tell she was wearing body amour. Her three fingered hands sported fingerless black gloves, while a knotted purple bandana was tied around her left bicep. Her thick black forelock was pushed to one side of her forehead, and her black mane sported a brightly coloured bird's feather at the end of a single long, thin braid while the rest was pulled short and stood like a crest on her long, powerful neck. A white, comet shaped marking in the middle of her forehead lay between her widely spaced, mismatched eyes. It trailed a thin, 'tail' of white fur that ended in a lightning bolt of pink skin between the nostrils of her hairless black muzzle. Her long delicate ears, when not lying flat back against her head, rotated like small radar dishes, alert for any sigh of trouble. He could hear the lethal eight inch spurs on both heals of her three toed hooves carve at the central pedestal of their table. At only eighteen, she was probably the most lethal being in the cantina, aside from her companion. Gellan gave a reassuring nod. "You'll be well compensated my friend, if you have what we're looking for."
"I think I might. Seventeen crates. Top of the line, all the bells and whistles. Here, I'll show you." Deciding to test the reflexes of the younger rebel a little, Deke reached nonchalantly for the blaster at his hip. Before his hand had even cleared the table, Gade's arm shot across the distance between them, her black velvet-furred hand grabbing his wrist in a crushing, vice-like grip. Her muzzled face was only inches from his, her lips pulled back from her large, squarish teeth in a silent but very real threat. No one in the cantina paid attention.
"Easy, partner." the older rebel laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. Gade reluctantly released the smuggler, letting herself be pushed back in her chair.
"Don't push your luck." Rehn growled low in warning..
"Kriff… You do work with some hard-asses, don't you Quetad?." Kreever replied with a smile but with teeth gritted in discomfort, shaking his hand to get the blood flowing to his fingers again. He slowly removed his blaster with two fingers, the other hand was up, palm out in a gesture of placation. He slid the weapon across the table. Gade picked it up and checked it with an expert eye.
"BlasTech RX-659 Razortooth, medium military sidearm." she said curtly "Imperials started using it about six months ago." Gade slid the weapon back to it's owner.
"I'm impressed, you know your weapons kid. I've got six crates of these, seven of heavy anti-repulsortank type stuff and four of blaster rifles."
"How much for all of it?" the senior rebel agent asked his face now a stone mask.
"All of it? You guys must really be desperate." Kreever mused, eyebrow raised in speculation.
"How much."
"Fifty thousand." the smuggler replied sounding as though he had plucked the sum out of the air.
"We'll give you thirty." Gellan countered.
"Are you a comedian?" the Corellian asked, shaking his head " 'Cause if you are, you aren't very funny. Fifty, or the rebellion can throw rocks and sticks at the Empire for all I care."
"Thirty-five." Quetad bartered.
"Fifty or I walk."
Gade slowly leaned forward again, one elbow on the table, her long graceful neck stretching across the distance between herself and the smuggler. "Thirty-five. Or you'll be explaining to your crew why you walk funny." The pirate sat bolt upright, his spine suddenly transformed into a durasteel rod. He had taken on a ashen look, his eyes wide in surprise.
"You drive a hard bargain." the smuggler swallowed, suddenly breaking out in a visible sweat. Gellan thought he heard the man's voice crack. "Thirty-five it is. We'll meet at the old Imperial Customs warehouse. One hour."
"We'll be there." Quetad nodded, keeping the confusion from his voice. Gade, relaxed, sitting back in her chair. Kreever pushed slowly from the table and walked away slightly bow legged. Quetad looked at his young lieutenant questioningly.
"What?" she asked innocently as her hand came from under the table, holding a foot long combat vibroblade. It wasn't activated though her thumb covered the button high on it's handgrip.
The pressure door of the decrepit former Customs warehouse opened with a rusty squeal.
Weapon drawn, Gade stepped cat-like through the door, sharp eyes and sharper ears searching the poorly lit building. The building's offices were empty, dusty and silent, the cargo holding area was cluttered with dusty, empty shipping containers . Her hooved feet sent up small clouds of dust motes with every step. Quetad was close behind her, and at six foot four, towered over the young Thalcein who stood only five foot, eleven inches.
"Welcome to my humble facilities." Kreever said with a dramatic flourish. He and his associates, a fidgety mouse-eared Sullustan, an angry looking black furred Deffel 'wraith' and a poker faced Twi'lek stood near the seventeen crates of weapons. They were all armed, but their weapons were holstered. Holstering her own weapon reluctantly, Gade stepped to Quetad's shoulder and spoke quietly as they walked to meet the pirates.
"Boss, I have a bad feeling about this. Something doesn't feel right."
"Steady, Rehn. I've dealt with them before. They're a little shifty, but sympathetic to our cause." Beside him, Gade tossed her head and snorted, not convinced.
The two rebels stopped a short distance from Kreever and his men. Gade was tense and nervous, her eyes intently searching the warehouse. A gnawing feeling in her gut told her there was wrong. She was certain of it. Rehn had many such premonitions and hunches, and they had helped keep her alive. Quetad casually tossed the pirate a datapad.
"Just punch in the numbers and our people transfer the funds to your accounts." he instructed.
"Nice doing business with you." Kreever said with a quirky grin and mock saluted with the data pad. "Your associate has a rather interesting negotiating style. If you ever need a job kid, I could use someone with your particular talents."Gade did not reply, distracted. From above, a tiny sound, like metal on metal drifted down in the cool, dusty air. Rehn froze, long black broom-like tail flagged, her head tilted upwards, her ears erect and alert.
Rehn watch two small, silver spheres materialize from the darkness above them, coming from the high, unseen rafters. She realized immediately what they were. Gade started, giving a great explosive warning snort, her knees bending like compressed steel springs, sharp hooved toes dug into the duracrete for traction. The others looked up with varying degrees of interest, wondering what had spooked her, as the young rebel grabbed her superior officer by the back of his jacket and hauled him after her. Kreever and his men realized what the falling objects were as the young Thalcein shied and bolted, and they scrambled to find cover. Rehn had managed three giant strides before the concussion detonators exploded eight feet above the warehouse floor with a blinding flash. Rehn pitched forward, Gellan backward, as the shock wave hit. The pirates and rebels lay still for a long moment, stunned and deafened by the blast. The young soldier was thrown into a pile of thick plastoid crating, a sharp edge gashing open her forehead and cheek and Rehn fought the blackness of unconsciousness that threatened to consume her.
A brilliant flash of light lanced from the rafters above and hit the hairy Deffel who had just stumbled to his feet. He gave a snarl of pain as the blaster bolt burned through his chest, toppling him over backwards where he lay twitching. His Twi'lek friend soon joined him in death, half his head disappearing in a crimson bolt of coherent light. The Sullustan still had not moved from where the blast had thrown him against a pile of cast off rusted ship parts, a discarded coolant capacitor rod protruding several feet through his chest. Kreever made an graceless lunge for the safety of a pile of empty shipping crates, but made it only half way there before he too was burned down, dying with an undignified gurgle as he clawed at the smouldering hole between his shoulder blades.
Gellan Quetad had once been heard to say that only an idiot feels no fear. His eyes were now wide with the stuff. The world was just swimming back into focus when a coil of line tumbled from the rafters above and dark figure rappelled down expertly using a waist harness. The figure was easily recognizable.
"Kriff! Get out of here now, Lieutenant!" The senior rebel agent commanded as he fumbled for the blaster his concussed brain insisted he needed as Boba Fett drew down on him. Gellan's weapon cleared the leather of his holster and he snapped off a quick shot. The blast hit Fett centre mass but obliquely, and ricocheted off his armour as the hunter turned to the side at the last moment. Boba Fett's shot however, threw Gellan backward as if he had been slapped by an enormous hand, landing him near the semi-conscious Rehn who tried without success to simply move.
Rehn saw Gellan fall out of the corner of her eye and even through the ringing in her ears, could hear him scream in agony. Gade tried to push herself up to help Quetad, her instincts and loyalty commanding her to move, but the blow to her head had traveled down her neck and jarred her spine, leaving her entire body numb and unresponsive.
Quetad rolled into a fetal position, clutching his belly, his teeth gritted, eyes squeezed shut against the intense, burning pain. The aroma of charred meat, blood and worse fouled the air. He tried to remain lucid. Summoning the rest of his ebbing strength, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a ferocious snarl of anguish and hatred, Quetad rolled into a kneeling position to search for his dropped blaster, and found himself staring into the business end of Fett's blaster. He could hear Gade moan weakly off to his left. Gellan Quetad's breaths came in shallow, painful gasps. It was getting hard to concentrate.
"When you get to hell," Gellan spat through bloody, clenched teeth, his eyes unfocused but still full of hate "I will be waiting." Fett's only reply was to fire again, ending the gut shot rebel's agony.
Fett turned his attention to his true prize and was somewhat alarmed to see she was not moving, her face sporting two wide gashes and slick with blood. She was worth a lot of credits, but only alive and without permanent injury. She was worth nothing dead, and Fett's own well being would be in jeopardy should she expire prematurely. The hunter removed her long vibroblade and pulled her heavy blaster from its holster, checked the safety and removing the power supply before setting it aside. Putting the toe of his scuffed boot under her ribs , he turned her over slowly. She was limp, two hundred and forty-eight pounds of athletic dead weight, her eyes open and rolled back. Fett was mindful of her cunning and of her natural weapons- jaws that could crush his thigh like a twig and a kick powerful enough to crush stormtrooper armour as if it were egg shell. Her most formidable weapons, however, were the eight inch dagger-like 'spurs' that grew on her heels. Made of a substance much like keratin, it was much denser, strong as durasteel and kept razor sharp by constant use and honing. Fett carried more than one scar carved by Thalcein spurs.
He watched her with caution, ready he felt for any surprises she might spring, keeping his blaster to one side but ready. Kneeling guardedly, his fingers touched the sweat and blood matted fur of her throat, searching for a pulse. Almost faster than Fett could react, Rehn's eerie eyes locked onto his visored face like a weapon system's target reticle. One of her hands shot towards his neck, the other for his gun arm, her teeth bared. Fett jerked back and she missed his throat, but managed to get hold of the underside of his helmet, yanking him forward and off balance. Her right foot posted itself into his chest as she pulled him over her prostrate body. He could feel all three of her sharp toes gauge at his armour. Gade rolled, using her powerfully muscled legs for leverage and throwing Fett off of her with a vicious kick. The hunter rolled with the momentum, landing in a awkward fighting stance, losing his weapon which skittered across the floor and now lay somewhere behind him- out of the rebel's reach, but out of his as well. Gade flipped herself to her feet, her knees swaying a little with the effort of staying vertical, her eyes unfocused.
Rehn made a long feigning lunge and Fett gave ground as she advanced. She tried a low kick, meant to sweep the bounty hunter's legs from under him. Fett dodged nimbly, pivoting on his left foot, his right cocked and ready to strike. His heel caught her a solid blow to the jaw that spun her around. They fought in eerie silence, no threats, no bragging, only the young Thalcein's harsh, ragged breathing through distended nostrils, and Fett's more regular, controlled intakes.
Rehn staggered back, wiping the new blood from her face. Fett came at her again before she could recover, landing a punch to her sternum that drove the air from her lungs. Staggered but otherwise ignoring the blow, she dove at the hunter, kicking at his mid-section in an attempt to eviscerate him. Her spur grated the armor on his abdomen, leaving a new foot-long scar on the already battered equipment. Fett gave a grunt as he was driven back against a high stack of crates by the power of the blow. Gade pressed her attack. Unable to get to his chest or throat because of his armor, striking a mortal blow to the bounty hunter would be difficult. But not impossible. With fierce battle cry that broke the deathly silence and echoed off the walls of the building like a great bronze bell, Gade let loose a lightning swift kick aimed for where her opponent's groin and thigh connected, the place where the human's femoral artery was most vulnerable.
Fett realized, almost to late, the peril he was in. He dodged to the left, his only real option because of the angle of the kick, and felt the scalpel-like spur slash deeply into his thigh close to his knee. Putting aside his pain for the moment, Fett waited until Gade's back was turned for the fraction of a second it took to follow through with the roundhouse kick. He struck like a diving bird of prey, driving his heel into the back of her knee. Gade squealed in pain as the joint gave out with a wet, telltale pop. Fett pressed on, slamming his fist into the place where the back of her head and neck met. Rehn fell face first onto the floor stunned, her legs kicking out spasmodically. Limping, Fett jammed his right knee between her shoulder blades, his left pinning Gade's arm to the ground. Her arm already twisted at an odd angle, the pressure caused white hot agony in her shoulder. Gade gave a bellow of protest, the sound of two great rusted chunks of metal grating together. Her head whipped around savagely, jaws agape and ready to crush whatever part of the hunter's body was closest. Planting his hand squarely between her widely spaced eyes, he shoved her head to the floor and heard a loud 'click' as her jaws slammed shut.
Reaching into a belt pouch with his free hand, Fett pulled out a syringe containing a small amount of viscous amber liquid. Pulling off the plastoid keeper that covered the needle, he jabbed it deftly into Rehn's long neck. The syringe immediately began to fill with dark, blue-purple blood, telling him that he had found a major vein. The young rebel snorted, thrashing violently with panic, only succeeding in driving the needle deeper. The drug burned as it entered her bloodstream and Gade could feel her muscles begin to relax against her will as the world around her began to fade to black.
Fett felt his hard merchandise succumbing to the drug, a powerful sedative used by the Empire to keep violent prisoners under control. Her breathing stabilized from hard rasping pants into soft, deep rhythms as her ears flopped off to either side and she lost consciousness. Fett pushed himself to his feet, exhausted. His wound bled profusely, throbbing enough to make him grit his teeth in pain. He relieved Kreever of his shirt and used it as a tourniquet to staunch the bleeding.
Fett summoned his ship, Slave 1, with the com gear in his fearsome helmet, and used the minutes before it arrived to police the bodies for anything of value. While the pirate captain's men were worthless, Kreever and Gade's partner had moderate bounties on their heads, or what was left of their heads at any rate, and the weapons would be returned to the Empire for a substantial finders fee. His real prize, however, was the unconscious Thalcein. She was worth half a million credits alive and without permanent or debilitating injury.
While Rehn Gade was not the youngest piece of merchandise he had ever been hired to collect, she was however one of the more challenging opponents he had faced for some time. His prey, if they were a live capture, would usually surrender, cowering at his feet begging for mercy. She on the other hand had attacked him, not showing fear until she knew she had been beaten. Rehn was brave and resourceful, he would give her that, and she'll need it where she's going, he thought.
He had assembled an impressive database on her through his extensive contacts, so that he had been relatively well prepared for the eventual capture. An expert terrorist, Gade was a lethal machine. She and her partner had been responsible for multiple bombings of Imperial installations, the assassination of key military officials and the high jacking of a number of Imperial supply ships. Any one of those crimes was enough to earn her a long, unpleasant interrogation session and eventual execution, and Fett held the only license issued to bring her in.
Fett glanced at his prey. He would, he reflected, have to do something about the lacerations on her face, and would have to manhandle the dislocate knee back into joint, but Thalcein were quick healers. Her wounds were superficial and would heel in the time it would take for him to rendezvous with his client and collect his fee. Boba Fett did not often work for the Emperor's enforcer, Darth Vader, but when he did, it was always a profitable venture. Fett sat on an empty cargo crate to tend to his wound with the small emergency med-kit and waited for his ship to arrive.
The vibration and sounds of the ship were the first sensations Rehn felt. The second was the ache of her knee and the sticky feeling of bacta patches on her face. She could feel the soft material of her short sleeved shirt against her sensitive hide and slowly realized that her armoured chest plate had been removed. Her body was sluggish to comply with her brain's instructions. She lay on her left side and could feel the tube-like restraint that covered her from hands to elbows, immobilizing her arms. They were linked by a four foot length of chain to shackles that encircled her ankles, just above her spurs. Her shoulders ached and her fingers were numb. She opened her eyes slowly and almost panicked when all she saw was darkness, and thought she'd been blinded. The black cloth bag over her head was tied securely under her jaw where it and her throat met. It covered her face from behind her chin to the back of her head, leaving her nostrils and muzzle uncovered. Rehn was groggy, nauseous and her head spun -after effects of the sedative Fett had pumped into her. She tried to remember what had happened to her and how she had gotten into her present predicament. She searched her memory and as though from a dream, a battered olive drab helmet with a slit, t-shaped visor stood out from the other jumbled images. As she tried to concentrate, Gade became aware of- could feel -a malevolent presence and faintly heard breathing, muffled as though processed by a filter. She could feel him watching her. He stood by the bars of her cell, watching her with frigid professional interest.
Her mouth was dry, her tongue a thick wool blanket in her mouth and she champed her teeth to get her salivary glands working. A face suddenly came into focus in her mind's eye with painful clarity. A face grimaced in pain and fierce determination. Panicked, Gade gave a quiet, whinnying call in her native tongue, a call to from one separated warrior to another. No one answered.
She remembered Gellan falling and had felt his pain as though it was her own. Then there had come a great emptiness, as though some important part of her had been removed. She had felt something like it, only a deeper and more profound sense of loss once before, but could not recall why or where. Although she did not know why, she could always feel when Quetad had been near. Now, she felt nothing. She closed her eyes tightly in grief, exhaling as though she would not breath again. Fett unlocked and opened Gade's cage, a IV bag of saline and sugar in one hand, an injection gun of sedative in the other. Rehn heard his muffled footsteps on the deck and the muscles in her neck tightened, a coiled snake ready to strike. As he knelt by her head, she made a blind, clumsy strike, her crushing teeth closing on nothing but air. The hunter put down the intravenous bag and pushed her head gently to the deck with his empty hand. Her breathing became harsh and nervous, rasping through her distended nostrils. Boba Fett put the injector to her bicep and pulled the trigger, giving her a shot of mild tranquilizer. Gade's head jerked back in surprise and she thrashed feebly, too exhausted and dehydrated to even push Fett off balance. Once the tranq took effect and his hard merchandise had relaxed, Fett threaded the IV needle into the artery in the young rebel's sweat matted neck and taped it in place. Holding the bag above her, the bounty hunter watched it slowly drain into his prize. This, he reflected in annoyance, is why I hate hunting these damn things. Thalcein were notoriously hard to keep alive in captivity. They refused to eat, drink or cooperate in any way. When captured, unless sedated, most found new and interesting ways to get themselves killed, usually taking some of their captors with them. Most became so violent they purposely forced their captors to shoot them. Slavers had once tried lobotomizing their merchandise, but the procedure killed the females and made the larger males even more aggressive.
The Thalcein had been openly and boisterously opposed to the Emperor, but being a tough, well equipped and determined foe, along with their uselessness as a slave species had doomed the Thalcein. The Empire had engineered a virus, lethal only to the large, hooved bipeds and had unleashed it on their home world and colonies. It was 98% lethal and had driven the Thalcein to virtual extinction within a decade.
The IV bag emptied and Fett left Gade to her uneasy dreams.
"These are the alternate drop off coordinates. Your fee will be paid upon our confirmation that the prisoner is alive and without permanent damage." The holo of a tall Imperial army major named Selkin who was beginning to thicken around the middle, spoke in a haughty voice, his opinion of bounty hunters so apparent it may as well have been written on his forehead. Fett's teeth ground in irritation.
"That was not the arrangement that was agreed upon. I am to deliver the merchandise to Lord Vader, in person. I do not like last minute changes." Boba Fett kept his voice cold and devoid of emotion, though the annoyance he felt was growing.
"I care little for your feelings on this matter, bounty hunter." Selkin stated "These orders came from Lord Vader himself. I have not lived to serve the Empire this long by being foolish enough to question his commands."
Fett growled, stabbing the transmitter button and severing the link before the Selkin could continue his diatribe. The hunter was not happy. He did not like dealing with Imperial officers any more than he liked dealing with Hutts. Like the Hutts, the Imps had a habit of not keeping their word and not wanting to pay the full, agreed upon price for the merchandise he had worked hard to collect. He did not intend to get short changed this time. Fett cut out his hyperdrive and the tunnel of light around his ship turned from starlines into normal-space within the shipping lanes of some backwater world called Heberk. Feeding the new course into the Slave 1's navacomputer and waited for the ship to do the math.