Part of a series, 'The Edge of Infamy': tales of Boba Fett's early adventures building his name and making his bones in the trade.
Death Dealer's Choice: Part I
Chaos.
Seeking its heart came Boba Fett.
Destruction.
He took a blind corner blast rifle first and laid down suppressive fire.
Death.
A volley of light arced from the blast rifle's abbreviated muzzle, clearing the passage of any pirates.
Focus.
He stepped over the bodies of the dead. He did not stop to survey his work. He had an objective to complete. Nothing else mattered.
Hunt.The emergency lights were the only source of illumination. Thick clouds of acrid smoke from electrical fires and spent blaster rounds filled the halls. The once gaudily lit orbiting casino was lost to shadow and violence. The main security system was under assault from an override virus released by the marauding pirates.
Fett paused before the door leading to a back access corridor. The vidscreen of the lock flashed meaningless data. The door would not open. Like many others, this one was engaged in endless battle with the virus. He reviewed the layout of the casino previously committed to infallible memory. He required access to the network of repair corridors. It was the only way to bypass the main deck of the station and cut into the red level. He could gain entry through this door.
Boba Fett braced his rifle and fired off two rounds into the center point of the set of heavy synthisteel doors. In the hole of twisted, burnt metal he jammed a gloved hand. With strength and will, he forced one panel of the door back into an open position. Red security alert lights flashed, and multilingual warnings vibrated through the speakernet. That meant some systems were reverting to back networks, avoiding the virus. That would work against him. He made a quick survey of the interior and entered the maze.
Over distant explosions and the drone of prerecorded generic security warnings, his sensors detected the screams of the helpless ahead of him. His pace was brisk, but not for reaching those that screamed. For another. Who may or may not already be dead. Who could make or break his fortune.
He slowed at the foot of a ships ladder, then trod up the narrow rungs soft and silent. The screaming grew louder. The source was above and eighty five degrees to his right. He emerged one level up, surprising a boarding gang of four human male pirates. They were harassing a pair of human females, casino dealers judging by what remained of their clothing. None of the cluster, pirates or victims, noticed him. The crowd blocked his entrance to the next part of the selected route. He raised the rifle and dropped the pirates where they stood.
A powerful explosion rocked the station. He was thrown hard against one wall. Sparks showered around him and flames erupted from a tangle of wires. He pulled free of the mess and charged on. Time was fleeting. He calculated the distance to his destination, and refigured how many pirates were normally carried in the boarding vessels that he'd seen attack the station. The traumatized females continued their screams. They cowered and cringed, huddling together. They thought him another pirate. In a way, he was. He came to take something, or rather, someone, and he had to admit, no matter how carefully planned his words, it would involve some measure of force and coercion.
Boba Fett charged past the women, heading inexorably toward his quarry.
The fighting would be concentrated at the epicenter of the red level, where the majority or wealth and firepower of the casino was located. The bigger players would be clustered there: the ones who could afford private security forces of their own. Any real resistance would come from that sector, so reason would dictate application of the better portion of the boarding force in that location. He cranked up the blast level on the rifle. What he required was on red level.
He cut down another smaller passage, reserved for repair of internal circuit systems. It had a low ceiling of ducts, wires and conduits, and was barely wide enough for him at the shoulders. A fight in such closed quarters could be problematic, however, taking this route would cut precious seconds off his travel time. The sensors in his helm indicated a ten degree rise in temperature. The sounds of battle were distant, but growing with each one of his determined strides. Thirty five meters more and he would be just outside the back corridor to the main casino. Eight meters off the western exit of that den of vice would be his ground zero: The Paradise Lounge.
The sound of metal on metal registered loudly with his sensors. In an instant he spotted the culprit, a luma grenade. A second later it detonated with a brilliant flash designed to blind most opponents. Fett, protected by his visor, was unaffected. He fired several rounds into the tangle of ducts above, setting off more alarms. Then he waited. No bodies dropped from overhead. He frowned. He did not have time for games. He lowered his rifle and continued forward, knowing he presented a tempting target.
Three seconds later the prey to took the bait. The pirate dropped from above, a hand's length in front of Fett. The grubby little human male gave out an unintelligible screech as a war cry and slashed at Fett with a vibroaxe. Fett merely stepped sideways following the arc of the blade. It skittered across his armor, trailing sparks. The overreach of his opponent brought him right into Boba Fett's line of attack.
Fett grabbed a handful of greasy hair, immobilizing the criminal's head. "You're not even worth the energy of a blast."
The man's eyes went wide with fear as he realized the next step in the dance of inevitable death. Fett headbutted the man, full force, armor plated helm to unprotected skull. He heard bone split. Fett dropped the corpse. Blood oozed from the wound, tinged with grey matter. Satisfied the pirate could cause no further trouble, Fett moved on.
He covered the remaining distance at double time to make up for the delay, and broke out of the access passage into the deserted rear corridor that should lead directly to the main casino of Red Level. The noise was now deafening. Laser blasts, screams, curses, crashes, the chant of battle. The song of death.
He raised his rifle, and entered the cloud of smoke that comprised the corridor atmosphere. This smoke was red in hue, from a grenade, and obscured normal vision. He used infrared to guide him to the casino doors. Only one was left, and that hung by a single hinge. The interior was a black cavern of scorched metal and mangled bodies. Apparently, the pirates were not after credits alone. Such damage to saleable goods bespoke of other agendas beyond a simple raid. He walked calm through the land of new apocalypse and made for the western exit.
At the archway he held back, taking recon of the area while tuning into the finer sounds of dialogue coming from the external western passage. The hall was ill lit, most illumination coming from the volleys of laser fire. A waist high barricade was set up six meters down the hall. Ten pirates fired round after round into the once decorative circular opening of the Paradise Lounge. A staggering number of their own dead littered the floor, a macabre pathway leading directly to their poorly protected rear flank.
Laser cannon fire spit forth from the black maw of the lounge. The window of opportunity for scoring a hit, both in terms of timing and the security of the pirate's barricade, was phenomenally small. The shots were few, but delivered with inordinate precision. Two pirates fell instantly, both from well-aimed head shots that fried the top fifteen centimeters of exposed skull. The remaining pirates let loose with curses. In anger and bravado, one imbecile stood to retaliate and took a blast full in the chest. His body came flying back, and skidded a meter or two before bumping into one of his fallen brethren.
Beneath his visor, Fett smiled coldly. The prize lived.
"We need reinforcements," one pirate cried, his common heavily accented and guttural.
No you don't. Fett pulled a Merr-Sonn C-22 fragmentation grenade from his utility belt and hurled it down the corridor at the gathered pirates. Then he stepped back behind the wall.
Someone screamed "Grenade!"
Too late.
The explosion sprayed shrapnel in a ten meter radius. Fett heard it pelt the wall that provided him safety, while some flew through the arched opening. Then the air cleared. Now it was the pirate's turn to scream.
He pivoted on one foot, braced his legs wide in the western entry, and opened up on what remained of the pirate contingent. After eleven rounds with no return fire, he advanced into the gloom of the corridor, kicking the bodies out of his way. He didn't stop firing until he reached the barricade and determined for himself that all the criminals were permanently out of action.
Icy anticipation filled his veins. He had the upper hand. At last.
He looked long into the pitch black lounge. With infrared, he could make out the cooling bodies of the recently dead and the discarded bulk of the laser cannon. Nothing else. No other targets. He lowered his rifle and switched to low light display. Then he waited.
A lithe, lone figure emerged with a slow, measured step from the lounge. In one hand was a heavy blaster pistol, in the second, a vibroaxe. Neither were raised. But they could be. In an instant. He kept that foremost in his mind as he kicked down the barrier that separated them. It fell with a loud bang that echoed in the hall, sending up a cloud of debris. Fett kept forward movement until he stood toe to toe with the survivor.
For one long moment neither spoke as each took measure of the other. His bioscan indicated no alteration whatsoever in her vital signs. Her face showed no fear or any emotion that he could detect. Her strange gray eyes held him with a gaze that was direct, unfaltering and unreadable. After a moment a chilling smile spread across her full lips. It fascinated him that this was not so much a smile as it was a baring of fangs.
"So Boba Fett," spoke the woman known to the galaxy as Eris. "Is this a rescue or an abduction?"
"Neither." Another explosion shook the very ground beneath their feet. He held steady and caught her around her waist with his free arm as she pitched forward. "It's a renegotiation."
The cry of an approaching war band bounced off the walls, punctuated with the report of laser blasts. Eris stepped free of his hold, raised the heavy blaster pistol and took out four pirates in rapid succession as they crossed into corridor's opening. "You know my terms. They haven't changed."
"I have new terms. I think you'll find them quite acceptable."
She smiled, but this time it was sly. Her eyes flashed like silver shards of ice. "Like I said the last time we came to the table: I'm the only one who can supply what you're in the market for. That means I get to set the terms, you get to pay the price."
She had a point. But he had a better one.
"What price would you put on your life? Because currently, the value is dropping. And if you die, well, then it's worthless, isn't it?" He kept his limbs loose, his trigger finger ready. It was even odds she would take his offer, or, go for his throat. "Right now, I'm your ticket off this orbiting death sentence. I know you want out of here, Eris. You're crazy, but you're not stupid. Right now, I'm the only one who can supply what you're in the market for. That means I get to set the terms, and you get to pay the price."
Amidst the death, destruction and doom, on the losing end of a precious deal, she did what he did not expect. She laughed. Sharp and edged to be sure, but a laugh none the less. "Let me guess those terms: The maps of the Drutha City underground."
Victory. It tasted sweet and very much to his liking. He nodded. "That's part of the deal, yes."
"Part of the deal?" Her mellow voice was steady, a calm in a storm. If she was worried at all about the potential of what she'd face, it didn't show. The ability to hide her true emotions was only one of many skills that made her a rising player in the information and intrigue game, and made her therefore, valuable to him. "I can't wait to hear the rest."
"We'll discuss those terms when we reach hyperspace."
"I may say no. Then what? You dump me out of the airlock?"
He shrugged. Let her think what she would. "Maybe."
"Right. I didn't figure you for the hero type." She hooked the axe to her belt, checked the charge on the heavy pistol, then maxed the blast strength. "Lead on. I've got your back. On my honor and word, I promise not to kill you until we're off this wretched station. After that, all bets are off."
"We're heading for auxiliary bay twelve, by was of the repair passages."
He gave a quick run down of the escape route. Several seconds later they moved out. They made it to the access corridor unhampered. Since there was nothing to be gained in the burned out casino the fighting had moved closer to red level's vault area. Fett knew they'd be reasonably clear of significant force encounters until they hit the auxiliary port and its airlock. All other modes of entry and exit would, at this point in the boarding raid, be heavily guarded.
She paused briefly when they came to the corpse of the pirate who'd attempted ambush of Fett. "You?"
He nodded. "Who else?"
"You took a pretty serious risk coming after me," she said as they resumed movement.
"I told you in our earlier negotiation you are very valuable to me. That value only applies if you're alive. I was left with little choice."
She slowed, stepping over the bodies of the other pirates Fett had dispatched in the access way. "You had no way to know I'd still be alive."
"The odds were in your favor."
"Most beings would not think so."
"I am not most beings."
"No, you're not, Boba Fett. You're definitely one of a kind. Even if you are a clone."
The words washed over him, meaningless. He knew she liked to use them as weapons, and he came prepared, hide toughened, senses sharp. This was her game, but he'd learned the rules, and he was playing to win this round. And all the rest to follow.
His helm sensors picked up activity ahead. Without thinking he held up a closed fist, hand signal for silence. She obeyed, giving up her military history with that one unconscious act. Beneath the visor he almost smiled. She was subtle, but he was observant.
He slid soundlessly down the ships ladder, and she followed suit.
At the bottom he stopped dead still. The voices of several pirates were clearly audible. They were up around the bend in the hall. Fett advanced to the corner and listened. He palmed a small, dull mirror and assessed the situation around the turn. He had a probe he could use, but the energy readout might be picked up and betray their position. Sometimes the old fashioned way was the best option.
Five moderately armored pirates, complete with a charged up E-Web repeating blaster and tripod were clustered around a sixth, who had a computer panel open and it's electronic guts hanging free. He had a large, modified data pad with couplings and jacks linking it into the station's network. All had headgear off, sidearms down.
From the discussion Fett learned they were attempting to override their own virus and reactivate the tractor beams and deflectors for the station. In addition, one wanted to access a passenger manifest.
They were three meters from the corner, and directly in front of the exit door. The E-Web could wreck an armored personnel carrier with one well placed blast. This was no time for leaving things to chance.
Fett removed two more C-22 grenades, timed, primed and loosed them on the pirates. He dove towards Eris, taking her to ground just as the grenades detonated. Shrapnel hit the far wall and ricocheted toward them. Distance and his body armor protected him well, and he in turn protected his prize. He had come too far to loose her now.
"Warn me next time your going to do that," she said when they stood. "I feel like I've been crunched by a Bantha."
He ignored her, raced to the corner and took it quick, laying out a field of fire that swept the hall. A few blasts hit the E-web and it erupted like a mini-thermal detonator. When the smoke cleared and the screams stopped, Fett gave the all clear.
Eris stepped around the corner, hot on his heels.
"This was no normal pirate boarding," she said as they passed the dead in the hall. She nudged a battered body of one with her toe. Half the head was gone. "That's Tari Jancar. He's former Imperial black opps. He's currently one of the highest paid mercenaries in the business."
"He was one of the highest paid mercenaries in the business." Fett checked the hall, then stepped out of the access passage. She was looking intently at was left of the others in the contingent.
"Let's go, Eris."
She knelt beside the body of Jancar and undid the breast plate. "Give me a minute."
"What are you doing?" He watched as she expertly accessed a hidden switch and popped a small hatch on the interior of the breast plate.
"Grave robbing." She removed a tiny cylinder that was stored in the secret compartment, and tucked it away in one of the many folds of her great cloak. "He won't need this anymore."
Fett made a mental note to interrogate her later on her intimate knowledge of black ops soldiers, and their personal secret storage chambers later, in the safety of the ship. "Ready?"
She nodded.
Rifle braced, he led the way to the auxiliary port air lock. Twelve dead pirates later, they stood outside the port, hidden behind several crates. Eris kept watch while Fett hammered code into his wristpad and summoned the Slave I.
"Too bad you trashed that E-Web, Fett. That kind of firepower would come in handy right now. There's twenty-two of them in their, doing some kind of freaky inventory on what looks to be stellar mine hardware. I don't think that kind of stuff came with the casino. Nor do I think this is the safest place of egress. Just incase your interested."
"I'm not." Fett finished the code. He snapped the cover unit in place. "This is the easiest and safest airlock for my ship to access under remote conditions. Don't worry. Those are just mine components. Unarmed, without pay loads."
"It's not the mines I'm worried about."
"We are leaving through that airlock. I don't care if half the Imperial army is in our way." He removed the last four grenades and started the activation sequence. "Get ready. These will go off in succession, on a three second delay. The grenades won't get them all. I will handle the rest. You just watch my back and stay alive. When I give the word, we move. No stopping for strip searches, understand?"
"Perfectly."
Fett stood, and let fly the last of the grenades. The port was roughly fifty meters in diameter. The pirates were spread throughout the room. This would even the odds.
He crouched while the explosions started, then immediately following the fourth blow out, leapt over the wall of crates, rifle blazing.
He was aware of Eris doing the same. She initially added her firepower in his direction, downing five men with precise blasts. Then she turned her back to his and fired long into the hall as several pirates came to check out the explosions.
Back to back they advanced into the port. The grenades had killed a handful and injured the remainder. The less injured had taken up positions and were returning fire, but it was wild, panicked and completely inaccurate. One by one they fell to Fett's superior shots. Inward he pushed, Eris at his back, until they'd reached the airlock and dispatched the pirates.
He hit the hatch switch and the airlock door swung open. The lock sealed and the ceiling hatch popped. The Slave's airlock corridor was mated and waiting.
He jumped in, and yanked Eris back onto the elevator platform beside him. Thrity-three seconds later they emerged in the Slave I.
"Strap yourself in." He pointed to a side seat. "This is going to get rough."
Fett charged to the cockpit, locked into the pilot's chair, fired up the main guns and broke away from the protected position. It was a short flight to the sector of space required for the jump to light speed. The fact that the sector he required currently housed several key ships in the pirate armada was the real challenge. He angled the deflectors and cleared the station.
The armada filled the blackness of space.
Cannon fire streaked through the distance, aimed at him.
It passed through space, close but never touching the Slave I as he guided the ship thorough a series of complex evasive maneuvers that took him closer to the enemy. He drove the ship through a slip of space between two battle cruisers, causing the fools in one to fire on the other.
This is too easy, he thought, pushing the engines to the limit and skimming just over the bulwark of the second cruiser in a zig zag pattern. As he flew he rained down heavy fire, ripping up the hull. A perverse part of him wanted to stay and finish the demolition work, but he had other business to attend to at the moment.
He pulled up from the damaged cruiser, and made the final preparations. Cannon fire trailed on either side of his ship.
Amateurs. No real challenge after all.
The very next instant the massive engines caught, and Slave I launched into the shadow corridors of hyperspace. There was a blur of light and then the comfort of the blackness of cold space that stretched between the stars.
Behind his visor, Fett smiled.
Success.
Disclaimer: the author has no rights or claims whatsoever to any of the SW universe characters or ideas, nor makes any claims or assertions as such.