Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior
By Christopher W. Blaine (darth_yoshi@yahoo.com)
DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2002 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2002 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.
CHAPTER 12
Biggs Darklighter sat back and unbuttoned the top of his flightsuit, accepting the offered flask of water from his wingman, Porkins. The rotund Porkins was sweating twice as hard as the other pilots and the fact that he was surrendering his drink demonstrated his loyalty to his friend. "Thanks, Porky," Biggs said.
The dark-haired Darklighter was a native of the planet Tatooine and was no stranger to the heat. The humidity of the jungle moon of Yavin was far different from the dry deserts of his homeworld. He had lived there for most of his life before applying to and being accepted into the Imperial Academy. He had been subjected to chemical "indoctrination" that had removed his memories of the Death Star, memories that had only begun to return thanks to the counseling the rebellion was providing him.
All of the pilots in the ready room came to attention as the squadron commander entered. Red Leader, the commander's call sign, looked over his motley crew of rebel pilots. "All right you sorry sacks of dung, the new duty roster is up and it means double-duty for all of you," the gruff old officer said. He put a large cigar in his mouth and chewed on it. "We got a new pilot shipping in."
On cue, Tycho stepped out from behind Red Leader. No the worse for wear, considering the two weeks of interrogation he had gone through to determine whether or not he was a spy. Malakie's mental domination was more than enough to allow him to get through the simple tests. He pushed back his hair and smiled meekly at the other pilots. "This is commander Tycho Celchu. He has higher rank than you tug-hoppers because he has real military experience."
"I was a pilot, sir!" Biggs called out.
"You weren't a pilot until you came under my command, Darklighter! Before that was nothing, isn't that right, boys?" All of the pilots shouted an affirmative before Red Leader continued. "Commander Celchu is now your executive officer. He is familiar with all types of Imperial fighter craft. You will show him due respect or I will personally create a new orifice in your bodies to breathe through!"
Malakie listened to Tycho's thoughts and then slowly cut off his mental link as he concentrated on the red-haired woman seated in front of him. For two weeks he had been separated from both his mother and the others from the shuttle. Gethzerion, not considered much of a threat, he been released from questioning early. Apparently their cover story of being political prisoners escaping Dathomir had held.
That would last as long as nobody recognized her as being the warden of the penal colony and there was little chance of that happening. Malakie and Gethzerion had been the only persons to have ever escaped the prison planet alive. For now, he was content that his influence over Tycho and the four stormtroopers, who had been accepted into the ranks of the rebellion ground forces, was intact and required only occasional maintenance. Were he a fully trained Sith, that maintenance would be unnecessary.
That frustrated him and he clenched and unclenched his fists under the table. The woman, Mara Organna Mothma, was apparently a high commander in the rebellion, not that it impressed Malakie. He also could detect the Force coming from her but she did not employ it as he did and he wondered if she sensed something from him as well. It was as if she had no idea of the power she possessed.
"…understand that we haven't been able to classify your exact species. You look human but you aren't. There are subtle physical differences and since neither you or your mother have been forthcoming…"
Malakie smiled. It was a grin that had disarmed many a female Imperial officer. "As we stated before, we are simple travelers who were mistaken for political dissidents. My mother and I wish to examine the temples of this world. Nothing more."
She remained skeptical and Malakie noted that the man named Karde continued to eye him with suspicion. "And you just happened to meet up with some Imperial agents who were defecting to the rebellion?"
Malakie shrugged. "I care little for your rebellion. I have no love for the Empire, but I am not foolish enough to believe it can be taken down with these meager forces." He was lying, of course, as he believed that one person in the right place could alter the course of destiny. Palpatine had proven that and Malakie was sure his father would have as well. "To be honest, we had no idea there was a rebel base here. We were all just running away."
Karde shook his head. "Stormtroopers just don't run away."
Again Malakie shrugged. "These did."
Mara sighed and motioned for Karde to meet her outside of the room. Malakie stretched out with the Force and caught the mind of one of the guards outside. Through his ears, he listened to the conversation. "I can't tell if he's lying or what," Mara said.
"Is that because you don't know how or…?" he let the question trail off.
"If he has Force ability, I can't tell. I'm inclined to believe him only because we don't have evidence to the contrary. If we continue to hold him and his mother against their will, we become no better than the Empire." She started to tap her foot and Malakie absorbed the little snippet of information he had just gleaned. She was aware of her abilities but she did not appear to be properly trained. She was a kindred spirit and he had to admit that he did find her attractive. They were close in age and both seemed determined to see their lot in life through.
He admired her honesty in admitting that she could not get a read on him and he wondered if that was because he was willing it or because someone else was protecting him.
Of course, my apprentice, I am protecting you. It is nothing but a parlor trick for one well versed in the Dark Side.
Malakie resisted the urge to look around. The voice had seemed to boom but after a moment he realized that it had all been in his head. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate.
No! Do not employ the Force so strongly or else she will detect. The Force is strong in her, not as strong as in you, but she is not to be dismissed. Do not let her feminine charms sway you from your destiny!
"Master Kunn?" he whispered.
Yes, it is I and you have performed well so far. This rebellion grows every day and gaining allies within it may help in our quest for ultimate power. Covet them for they are children eagerly needing attention. Fawn over them and they will accept you. Already your thrall is within their starfighter forces and you have others elsewhere.
You would do your father proud.
Malakie straightened at this and a grim smile started to cross his face. He understood what his new master saying. He would hide in the open, seeking refuge with the rebellion until the time was right for him to strike out on his own. Gethzerion would not approve, but she would do as she was instructed. Already she had picked out the body she wished to have essence transferred into. A woman, a most beautiful one with sparkling blue eyes and hair so blond it was as white as Malakie's, had caught Gethzerion's eye.
The woman was apparently a special operative on loan from Alderaan, a planet Malakie had always been led to believe had no such things. Her name was Winter.
Boba Fett whirled and fired, taking down his fourth security agent in so many seconds, while Jango fired with two blasters at the agents who had barricaded the far end of the corridor. Another one popped his head around the corner and Boba scored his fifth kill of the day.
"This is not turning out how we expected it, father," Boba said with some sarcasm.
Behind his helmet, Jango smiled, enjoying being in a real battle after so many years of corporate security and minor bounty hunting. It was good to be back in action and all of his old senses and reflexes were kicking in. His extensive training in the Mandalorian ways had prepared him for his return even before he had left the Republic. He was a true warrior and his son, really an unaltered clone of himself, was just as good.
Boba needed real experience, though, which was one of the reasons why Jango had elected to return. He was getting older…not quite old yet…and he needed to make sure Boba would be all right without him when the day came. "No battle plan survives contact with the enemy," Jango reminded him, quoting from a Mandalorian tactics manual. "Improvise using the skills you have. Do not try to predict the future, react to the present," he said as two blue blaster bolts reduced a security agent's head to smoke and ash.
"These men are proving to be very loyal to their president!"
"Which makes them worthy foes. Like us, they will not shirk from their duty and they must be afforded the respect of a peer. Clean kills, my son!"
Boba nodded and started to move away from his father, slowly closing the gap between them and the troops that had mustered behind them. They had come to capture the Chandrillan president, Mon Mothma, and her daughter, to bring before the Emperor. Their instructions provided a clause that if they could not secure their capture then they needed to execute them.
Technically, the Emperor was declaring war on Chandrilla, but somehow Boba Fett did not think anyone was going to care. For the past week, the Imperial press corps had been putting out stories that linked Mothma to several suspected rebel agents, including the renegade senator Garm Bel Iblis. The final nail in her coffin had been when Darth Deceptra had reported that Bail Organna of Alderaan, Mothma's lover, had been found guilty of sedition and executed for his crimes. The royal palace on Alderaan had been leveled by turbolaser bursts from orbit.
Both of the Fetts knew the entire affair was bantha fodder, especially Jango. The older bounty hunter was more than aware of what lengths Palpatine would go to, what deceptions he would weave, in order to remain in power. Even now, the Death Star was on its way here, diverted by Grand Moff Tarkin in order to investigate the claims of rebel sympathies. Chandrilla was the perfect hiding place for the rebellion as far as Tarkin was concerned.
This meant nothing to Boba, however, and he pushed the thoughts of political intrigue out of his mind. He had been a young boy when the republic had fell, too young to understand the reasons why. All he knew at the time were that the Jedi were the enemies of the bounty hunters and any cause against them was a worthy cause indeed. A wounded guard jumped Fett, yelling in almost primal rage. His reflexes took control and he smashed the leaping man's face with a backhanded slap. A quick double tap with the blaster and the man was no longer a threat.
Boba then looked up to see a burly guard, clad only in exercise shorts and small boots standing in the passage. If the hulking brute got by him, then he could possibly hurt Jango. As much as Boba admired and respected his father, he knew that the older man was no longer the warrior he had been. Boba holstered his blaster, seeing that the man wished to meet man-to-man. That was fine with him.
They met, hands locked as a test of strength began. The guards had the brute force, but Boba had managed to place himself so he would have leverage. It barely did any good as the guard was simply too tall to force over and slowly Boba felt himself being forced back.
The bounty hunter kicked out, the climbing spike in the toe of his boot digging deep into the guard's thigh. The guard merely grunted and pushed harder. Boba remained calm and chose a new target. Before he could pull his leg back, he felt the pressure lessen and the guard went down, grasping his punctured kneecap. Boba back away a step and put his right arm out. A simple tap of his gauntlet control and a rope line shot out and wrapped itself around the guard's neck.
The guard was by no means out and he reached up to pull the rope away from his neck. Boba released the line and then pull out his blaster as two other security men came out of an adjoining room with weapons drawn. His marksmanship saved his life for the moment but had cost him victory over the larger man. Wounded and limping, the big guard was standing up and pulling the rope from his throat.
Boba put himself into a relaxed stance, awaiting the newest attack when the man suddenly grasped his chest and fell. A small poisoned dart had struck him. Boba turned to his father, his face contorting in rage behind his helmet. "You had no right!"
"Do not raise your voice to me, Boba! We are here to perform a mission, not prove your manhood!" Jango twirled his pistols and then holstered them. "You can only become the best by completing your assignments. You have to know when to fight and when to not to."
Boba took a second to calm himself, but found he could not completely. He had chosen to fight the guard on his own in accordance with the ancient rites of combat. His father, by interrupting him, had brought dishonor to Boba. The younger bounty hunter was more than aware of the history of his people. He knew all of the laws and traditions of the Mandalorian peoples and he wondered if their time outside the Empire had somehow corrupted his father.
He had no time to contemplate any further. All of the guards were dead and Jango had already blasted away the door controls to the president's suite. The older man was busy rewiring the door to get it to open and Boba occupied himself by checking the charge on his blaster. "She is most likely armed," Jango commented. He knew his son was angry with him, but he assumed that he would get over it.
The doors slid open with a hydraulic whine and the two bounty hunters strode in with their weapons drawn. One quick scan of the room told them all they needed to know.
Jango walked over to the president's desk and pushed the dead body of Mon Mothma out of the chair. A small sporting blaster fell smoking from her hand and Boba noted the small burn on the side of her skull. "This is unfortunate," Jango said as he sat down at the desk. He brought up the computer terminal and began typing in various commands. After a few minutes, he admitted defeat. "She's wiped out all of her personal records."
"That will make tracking her daughter harder, but not impossible," Boba said as he walked around the room. There was nothing around to give any indication where Mara had fled.
"She may be trying to meet up with her sister, the escaped Princess Leia," Jango said as he stood up. He pressed a small button on his gauntlet and whispered something into it. "We need to go. Slave 1 is on its way here and I'd say Tarkin is far behind."
"Maybe we should let him know what we have found," Boba offered.
Jango shook his head. "Tarkin is a dangerous man and a man with big plans. Its better to stay away from him. Stick to our agreement, collect the credits and move on. Don't ever try to get on the Empire's good side because it doesn't have one."
"I just thought they might share some information with us…"
Jango laughed. "Tarkin? He hates bounty hunters. I remember that little Jawa when he was a senator…spineless man. No, we'll keep our information to ourselves. The first thing we need to do is go over all of the outgoing shipping logs for the past few months, see if we can see where this Mara woman went to."
"And then?" Boba asked.
"We complete the contract."
