Chapter Two: The Scenic Route and The Arrival:
Recap:
I climbed back up the ladder to my personal quarters, which were cozy, enough space to fit a bed, a few storage chests and an armor stand; with my armor in a bag slung over my shoulder. I dug through my chest closest to the bed and got dressed in undergarments and sleeping attire. I did not have enough energy to keep awake much longer. I had just enough energy to set the alarm triggers in case anything happened that needed to be addressed and slipped under the covers. I was asleep between one deep breath and the next.
~/~
Reviews: Thank you for the questions:
There were two questions from Clare Prime of Ultra:
"Will there be DinXPaz in later chapters? Din is going to beat him good!"
~ I don't know what you mean by "beat him good", but I can tell you this: if Paz is the proper one for Din, he has got his work cut out for him to 'win fair maiden's heart'. Din is no Mary Sue, and will disintegrate any idiot who tries to make her one!
"Will Din meet the Covert? That I want to know more than anything!"
~ Yes, she will meet the Covert. The how, when and where questions are the parts that have yet to be revealed.
For those reviews that were expressing liking for the story so far, thank you. By the way, if I don't post a chapter a week, apologies in advanced, there will be two in the next.
Now on with the Journey: In a galaxy far, far away…
Din woke with a soundless scream as she twitched away. She had long ago trained herself to wake up without any indication on whether she was awake or not. That had saved her neck on more than one occasion when she worked hand-in-hand with the Rebellion. She rose silently still with shaking breaths to a sitting position and turned on the lights in her little cabin from where they were set into the headboard of the nest-bed. The dream was foggy and seemed to drift further away from her conscious mind, but it didn't matter. She knew what it had been about. Din sighed gustily and rose from her bed with a near groan of regret. She glanced at the alarm and saw she was awake about an hour before she needed to be, a good solid eleven hours of sleep, only to be woken up at the last minute by that –
She cut herself off from her thoughts as they went down a well-worn, but dark path in the past. She didn't need her dreams to chase her while she was awake. She instead thought about what needed to be done. The first thing was, get out of the sleep clothes and put something a little more – durable – on. The sleep clothes were dropped over the bed and she donned the two-piece body suit first. A body suit that fit loosely, but not flowy. She then put the outer breeches and shirt. These were made out of her own DuraSteel Silk with patterns in red of varying shades shimmering through them. No need to wear greys or lighter colors if she was going to stain them. The last pieces before she turned to the armor lying in a heap were the sleeveless dark gray tunic and the dark gray belt with several little magnetic hooks for different pouches. Magnets were a very underestimated tool.
Din got out her cleaning materials from their own chest by the armor stand and began to methodically go over her armor pieces. When she was done cleaning and making sure the electronic pieces were intact and working properly, she put them on. The boots were first, DuraSteel painted a dull grey. Din paused and then got up and walked over to the door.
Exiting the personal quarters to enter the cockpit. The data-pad was still sitting where she had left it before she went to sleep. Picking it up she reentered her quarters and went to the corner, opposite of her armor. There, in said-corner, was a small stand-alone computer that she used to keep her files and recordings from her helmet. She placed the data-pad into an adapted cleaning terminal. The terminal would make sure that only the information placed on the data-pad and the chips were downloaded. Just I case the data-pad or the chips had some added surprise to them like a virus. It wasn't really paranoia if someone really was out to get her, a Mandalorian would classify it as being practical.
She typed in the command to read out the information on the two selected targets. They would be downloaded first and read out when completed. Din went back to the armor cleaning. Now she had something to listen to other than the whirling of hyperspace and the purr of the engines. It took about three minutes for the computer to start reading out loud the sections of information on the refueling station and the storage facility. By then all the armor was cleaned and checked. She thought the information over while she put the cleaning supplies away.
The refueling station was supposed to be a small one, just there in case of emergencies. Had no actual personnel, just robotics and droids. It might have actually been out of power by the time she got there, but she was going to make sure. If nothing else, she could salvage it or find some way to give it to the Jawas. They would work it over and have it in pieces within a standard week. The storage facility might go the same way if there were no personnel are on it. Or she might just blow it to flotsam. They were both located on different moons around the same planet. That got her attention.
'Why would that be the case? Is there something about this planet in particular? Or was it something about security? If someone saw one thing, they wouldn't suspect that the other was there? Was the refueling station deeper space expeditions and the storage facility for parts? Are these two decoys for something else, maybe some other type of installation? What?' She started putting the rest of the armor on. The last piece to go on was the chest piece. The information was just finishing, winding down about who commanded during what time during Imperial reign. The names meant nothing to her. The ranks though – 'Not a single big fish in the lot. All petty officers with one commander over all that was a krill-sized fish in the Imperial sea himself.' That in and of itself was interesting. 'It actually might still have power. The little fish would be off the grid for the New Republic, they wouldn't care about them. They would only really care about the high ones like the Moffs and Generals.' She thought as she turned to exit the room and go down to the lower level where the stew would be near done.
When she got down to the lower level there was a lovely smell wafting throughout the deck. She opened the hatch and retrieved the slow-cooker that was bubbling softly. Placing it on the counter by the sink, she activated the mechanism that would unfold the table and a bench-like chair not designed for prisoners. She got out a plate and bowl as her stomach registered the food and gave a growl that she swore could be audible over the sounds of engine and hyperspace travel. The utensils were next and a cup of water. She poured the stew from the slow cooker into the bowl and grabbed a slice of spice-fruit cake from the cupboard. Din put the slow cooker into the sink and gave it a slight clean and rinse, filled it up with water and placed it back in the special oven-hatch. She turned the valve for warming up the bed and turned back to the counter.
Taking up the dishes, including the cup, she went over and sat down at the table. She ate – almost mechanically – as her thoughts drifted to what she intended. Most would say that the Empire is gone and thus her scenic route was a waste of fuel and time. But she was a Mandalorian. She was also very thorough. She wouldn't believe an enemy was dead until the head was separated from the body and all either burned down to ash or just disintegrated.
She finished eating and downed the last of the water in the cup as a feeling came over her. She paused from rising and continued to stay seated. She closed her eyes and semi-drifted through her own thoughts. Din knew this kind of feeling; she had had them for most of her life. Someone or something was looking for her. She took a deep breath. Centering herself within what she referred to as 'mirror diamond' state, she waited. The searcher seemed to brush past her sense of self with a feeling of frustration. She studied the Searcher. It wasn't something she wanted finding her that was for certain. Not unless she had a lot of hidden advantages they couldn't prepare for. It was slightly insane and wholly twisted. It took what felt like a small eternity, but eventually the feeling went away. She waited, slowly easing out of the 'mirror diamond' state.
Din sighed as she looked over at the alarm that said how long it would be before she got to the refueling station. Another ten hours to go. She got up with her dishes and put them all in the sink. Sliding the lid over it, she activated the small sonic system. A little adjusting of systems had allowed her and the Jawas to have this water-saving device that she had patented under a pseudonym. It had given her another source of income that she kept in accounts usually in the Middle Rim. She had sold the patent with a royalties contract to the New Republic through some five intermediaries who never guessed the supposed genius behind the design that every ship and desert-planet wanted installed, was a group comprised of a Mandalorian bounty hunter and Jawas. It gave those in the know – her and the Jawas – some amusement.
She then went over to the sack and pile of pouches she had taken off when she went to get cleaned up. She picked the pile up and dumped it on the table, sat down and began to do inventory. The pouch that she had taken the sweets out of was set aside. She only carried that one around when she felt like she might encounter children who would need calming down of some sort. The medicinal pouch was looked over and since it was still fully stocked, placed in a separate pile from the candy-pouch. The ammunition for the various weapons she would take on this pleasure excursion were still full, since she hadn't needed any of them on the last four bounties. The last pouch of hers contained credits for expenses. She wouldn't need that one where she was going next. She put that one with the candy-pouch. The things that were left were from the idiotic thugs from the cantina. She rubbed her hands together smiling grimly to herself. This was like getting a bunch of surprise presents. She started with the sack that had contained the things she took off the dead embezzler.
Five pouches full of credits, she would sort that out in a minute. A couple of vibro-knives of semi-good quality, she inspected them. Nothing up to her standards for fighting equipment, but might be good as part of her harvesting kit as spares. She set them aside to put into said-kit. A pouch with data chips. Interesting, she would have to look at those later on. They could contain anything – or nothing. Blank data-chips could be just as useful as full ones. Those she placed by the vibro-knives. There was nothing else except the small blaster. She inspected it as thoroughly as she had the vibro-knives. Again, not up to her usual standards, but it would be a nice surprise to have just in case. She set it aside for adding to her weapons stash. She would have to make a fabricate a hidden holster for that one. It was small enough that she could fit it at the small of her back, where she usually just kept a collection of throwing knives. The blaster could be something she could even modify. With that thought, she began looking through the credit pouches.
Pretty much a mix of credits, including to her disgusted delight Imperial. She set those aside separate from the other kinds and began to put the non-Imperial credits into pouches. As much as would fit into them. It was about five-thousand credits all told, not including the Imperial ones. That left two empty pouches of semi-good quality. She set them to the side in another pile. She'd put them in storage, either to use herself or trade in for something else at the next bazaar. The Imperial credits she left in their respective pile. That was when she got up.
Taking the candy- and money- pouches in crook of her left arm, she pressed the button that would show the security scanner. She took the glove off her right hand – pulling it off with her teeth – and pressed it flat to the scanner plate. Scanning took a breath if that, and the light that said she had been scanned blinked green. A commlink popped out from underneath the hand scanner and she spoke the passcode "Mine" into it, taking the glove in her bare hand. The metallic click and bang of the main storage closet opening followed quickly on the heels of the blinking light. The scanner was hidden again and she placed the pouches on their respective holding chests, set into the left side of the closet. She turned to the right and grabbed a sack she used to carry around Imperial credits. She looked into it and estimated that the sack was near half way full. Bringing it over to the table, she swept the pile of Imperial credits into the sack without ceremony. It wasn't much more, but every little counted.
She took the sack and the little blaster and placed them in the still open closet. That done, Din looked over at the alarm. Five hours to go. She stretched slightly and closed the secured closet. She went over to the sonic sink which had finished hours ago and put her glove back on. She paused now mentally working on the project she had started before she had set down in the last Hub. A way to maybe add another extra weapon to the Crest and maybe even another partial deck without compromising the engines or costing too much fuel. As she put the dishes away, she thought. 'I could set down for three months or so it would take to get that extension done by the Jawas. I just need to make sure that I have the parts in hand with me or know where I can get them at a good price. Where would I have the partial deck put? Maybe I should have two partials, smaller maybe and put them in the wings slightly? Move the shield generator to one and the utilities storage to the other? That might balance it out. Have a little more breathing room in the actually engine part to move it back, so I can add another setting to the main guns? What would I put there? I already have a modified harpoon that can pull a Ravinak up, an electric dart that can kill a Ravinak, the old blaster cannon the ship originally came with, and the Stun Pulse that can put a ship in the same weight class or lower than mine in a state of disarray and could even give a few that are greater some trouble. Maybe instead of a weapon, I should add some kind of stealth system, a cloaking device of some sort. How would I go about that? And how would I get the Jawas to help?'
As she thought she had put up the dishes, put the vibro-knives with her harvesting kit – that was in the same storage closet as her camping supplies, took the data chips and opened up yet another storage unit. It contained a small robotic computer. Not exactly a droid, it was not an intelligent machine, just a super computer with the same kind of set up that Din had in the stand alone in her personal quarters. She neatly and methodically put the data-chips on the insert for the start-up scan for viruses. The computer had enough data storage for her to use for an entire covert if only – she shied from the thought and closed the insert. The now empty pouch went with the other two empty pouches and all three were dropped in an open crate that was bolted down by the cupboards with the sonic sink. Incidentally, right beside the computer's closet.
Din typed in the commands for the clean-scanning, downloading of any information, and wiping of the chips. That would take a while. She turned and folded away the table and sat down on the still-extended bench-chair. Still thinking, she put her body in a meditative stance. She looked at the alarm again, not even quarter of an hour had pasted. She closed her eyes and entered a Meditative Rest, where her body could rest and her mind could continue to think about anything and everything…
[the alarm gives the hour warning blare]
Din hears the alarm go off and states calmly "Heard," and got off the bench slowly, stretching slightly stiff muscles. She secured the pouches she had left on the bench beside her and rechecked her weapons. She crossed to the ladder that led to the deck and went to her quarters. There she took her hair and began to braid it, starting from the crown. Her hair was just long enough to reach the bottom of her shoulder blades. She stretched her leg muscles as she took the tie for the end of the braid and used it. Pushing the base of the tale back on itself, the end of it came to her forehead. She took a roll of cloth and used it to secure the braid snugly, so it wouldn't fall out of her helmet. Then she turned to said-helmet. She picked it up and could have sworn she felt the weight of centuries press down on her as she looked at the iconic T-shaped visor. Shaking the errant thought away, she turned it and placed it properly on her head.
Exiting the personal quarters again, she went to the cockpit. The Hyperspace journey was near the end and she needed to be ready for anything. A little buzzer made her glance at the panel for the Hyperspace controls. Ten seconds it read. A muffled boom was her Razor Crest exiting Hyperspace. She could see the refueling station from here. It looked almost deserted. Almost, because she could see droids still working on the outside of the station. A soft dinging noise let her know that a call was being broadcasted. She opened it. A standard greeting in basic, with a request for stating the purpose of the approach.
Din lied flatly "Refueling and Maintenance," and sent it through the comms. A pause and then, "Please be aware that the cost for fuel has gone up. Please be prepared to deposit fifty credits per standard kilogram. If this is acceptable, please dock at Bay Four-Ten." She sent a still-flat affirmative and steered her Crest to the afore mentioned bay. She pulled in, parked inside, turning off the engines and exited the cockpit.
Din heard the clank of droids approaching. As the hatch opened, she turned on "Ground Zero Security Protocols". This was going to be fun.
[An Hour Later] {AN: No there will be no fighting described here, it is only refueling station, not a prison. The droids are only astro-mechs and mechanical ones. There are no security or battle droids here.}
Okay, maybe it wasn't really all that fun. Din sighed to herself as she looked at the main control room for the station. It was barely powered; the droids were half-dragging themselves all over and the spare fuel tanks were nearly just fumes. Some of the parts were shoddy things she didn't think even the Jawas would want. But there were some promise here. She would have to see.
Looking at the station's controls, she saw that the station could actually be moved and even enter Hyperspace. That would work perfectly for her. She found the computer console that contained the informational data for the station and typed in the commands to have all data copied onto a spare and removable data chip set. Who knew, there could be other facilities that the Imperials had, that the New Republic weren't aware of. As that was happening, Din looked around for the station's communication console, she had just seen it – there!
She crossed to it and started it up to start recording her message. "[Greetings,]" she started, "[This is the Mandalorian. I have come in possession of this entire refueling station and have no true need of it. I will trade it though. While most of the droids and installations seem to be outdated, I will give it the Jawa Collective to do with it as they wish, with the understanding that they work on a special project for me in the future. If the Collective can't get any use for the station, please send a Jawa to say so on Nevarro. I will be there by the latest in four standard days.]" Here Din paused to calculate. That gave her plenty of time she thought. She bowed slightly and ended the recording. The Jawas would find it, of that she had no doubt. She also had no doubt that they would find plenty of use for the blasted waste of parts.
She then went to the informational console and saw it was still downloading onto the data chip block. When she checked the status, she noticed that it was about eighty percent or so done. Din then went over to the Hyperspace console and paused. Tapping her vambrace, she opened up the holodisks' memory in her helmet. Using her right hand, she began sifting through the information on it, the nearest location to the Jawas was about a standard half day or so by Hyperspace. Convenient. She started up the engines and began the calculations. That took longer than she expected but hey, she wanted it done. The Calculations were complete right about the time the information console beeped for attention.
Crossing to that, Din saw that the download was complete and the now open segment of data-chip – the thing was equipped with its own anti-grav cart – was ready for transport. She took the remote that would have the thing follow her and stuck it in her pocket. She turned and crossed the control room again and set a timer for the jump to Hyperspace for about an hour and a half. That is when she left the room and went back to the Razor Crest. She hoped that the storage facility was better equipped and maintained.
[An Hour Later] {AN: I skipped the journey back to the Razor Crest, because all she did was walk back to the Razor Crest, deactivate the "Ground Zero Security Protocols", and the short journey to the Storage Facility.}
The moon that the storage facility was on actually had atmosphere, which was good, since she didn't want to approach it openly. This one, unlike the refueling station, had living personnel. She set the Razor Crest down just out of scanner range of the facility and activated "Ground Security Protocols". No one but her could get past those doors now. It would be a couple of standard days to hike to get to the Imperial building, but that was if she went on foot. She wouldn't of course, she wouldn't need to. Landing so far away would also allow her to have surprise on her side. The terrain was like the forested moon of Endor, plenty of cover. She opened the hatch that contained her own modified speeder bike that was set into the bottom of the left wing. It was an old thing, but still serviceable.
She mounted the bike and sped off. She had no worry about anyone picking up the sound of the bike nor the comms unit. Din had modified it so that the comm unit was no longer there and had installed a muffler to keep the whine of the bike itself down. Din enjoyed the ride, slaloming through the trees and brush. It was a slight challenge. It took about two hours to get to the bottom of the closest ridge to facility.
There, she left the bike and hiked to the top of the ridge and hastily climbed one of the medium-sized trees. There she took out her Amban rifle and looked down its scope to study the building. It was a small compound actually. Some dozen buildings from the look of it, with a landing platform on top of the biggest one. That was fine with her. She looked for the personnel or any sign of them. she found a squad of storm trooper, ten strong. Din bared her teeth in a silent snarl.
Din studied the facility a bit more. No one really moved. If she hadn't seen the troopers, she could have been excused from thinking that this facility had been abandoned. She holstered her rifle and climbed down from the tree. Jogging back to her bike, she thought up a plan of attack. It was simple enough. Most places like this during the Rebellion had been set out in an efficient way. She would find the barracks and kill any that she could silently. When she no longer couldn't get any in ambush, a shoot out would commence. When all personnel were dead, she could take her time stripping the place of anything useful.
The light from the sun of this system was dimming from the sky, when she made her way to the closest building. A patrol of two storm troopers passed by her. Din had to hold herself in check. 'Don't kill them yet,' she reminded herself, 'You don't want to raise an alarm.' She let them pass and waited until they had turned a corner, before she dashed across the open area from the forest cover to a pool of darkness by the entrance of the closest building. She saw the console and pressed the button to open it. The door did and she slunk inside. There were no lights, but she didn't need them.
Din put on the night vision with a slight infrared spectrum to help. She slunk along the hallway and looked around. This must be a lucky run, because this was the barracks building. The officer's quarters were at the farther end of the hallway. She would take care of them in a moment. There was a barracks with what looked like some twenty bodies in it, positioned like they were all asleep. She slipped inside.
'It may not seem honorable,' as she silently went up to each man and slit his throat with a razor-sharp blade, 'but Imperials have never been ones I will treat with honor.' It took her only some thirty minutes to do the grizzly work, noticing and counting ten empty cots. She left the room afterwards, the heavy scent of blood following her like a perfume. It made her bloodlust rise, her hunters instinct aroused – not completely mind, just enough – to make the experience that more detailed.
She crept into the officer's quarters. The officer was snoring lightly. He was slightly overweight, carrying a paunch around his middle; had a sparse mustache and was balding in an unfortunate way. Din's lip curled in a sneer of disgust. He got the same treatment as the men he commanded.
She studied the room as the man died swiftly, not even fully waking to see what caused such pain in his throat. It was sparse, hardly furnished. She left; the smell of blood even stronger. This, she remembered, was one of the reasons why even the Rebels who worked with her the most were scared of her. To them, she was a Mandalorian who had no remorse in killing people and wouldn't hesitate to kill them either. And in a way, they were right. She didn't have any remorse in killing an Imp. Not after Sundari. Not after the Purges. And especially not after she saw what they did to her fellow Mandalorians, some not even sworn yet. They did not deserve any mercy after she witnessed that.
She exited the building and looked over the compound. According to her infrared vision, the two troopers patrolling were the only ones doing that, there another nine heat signatures that pulsed like lifeforms and all were in the same building. The one under the landing platform. Fine with her. She stalked over to building and entered it, deactivating the infrared-night vision as the door started to open.
A grey-haired man in an officer's uniform turned towards the door opening and when he spotted her, screamed an alarm. Men, in maintenance uniforms, spun around to stare at the Mandalorian in the doorway, in horror. Well, couldn't exactly blame them for that, she did have some blood splatters on her from earlier. One bolted for an alarm. He died first, a blaster bolt going straight through his head. The singing of the blaster was counter-pointed by screams of the men as they died. Din entered the building calmly and the door closed automatically. This was the main building alright. She made her way over to the console the officer had been at. From the look of it, it was an inventory report. An explosion was heard, she sighed audibly knowing that the two troopers much have seen her bike and activated the security device. Anyone touching it had to enter a code of pressure points on the grips of the bars themselves. If they didn't, the bike would overload and blow up.
Din looked closer; it was an inventory report. Some minor thing about power cells; the report was short saying that they were getting old and would need replacing soon. Din turned off the report and began looking for the real inventory list. It took a few minutes for it to come up and when it did, the smile hidden under her helmet would have scared off a Tusken Raider. This storage facility was a stock pile of munitions, parts for maintaining droids and even a couple of ship pieces like Hyperdrive engines and even raw materials that were not listed as anything but as a set of numbers. The Jawas would love this particular find. She could send a message from the Razor Crest, with list attached to the message. Some of this would have a Jawa ship here in no time. She heard the approach of the last two troopers at the run. Apparently, one of the troopers had survived the bike's explosion. She wheeled around as the door opened, and shot the last trooper through the plexi-armor that covered their torsos. They fell to the ground dead as she sent out a hidden signal to the Crest.
One of the more recent modifications to the Razor Crest, she and the Jawas had done, was make it so that the autopilot would actually take off by itself and home in on her location. Din was so pleased with herself, but she quickly squashed the feeling down. She would have to remain vigilant, there would be security protocols to make it so that the Imps could keep the items secure right?
As the Crest landed some ten minutes later, Din Djarrin could have gagged from sheer disgust at the shoddy way the security had been put into place. She had heard of bakers with better security than this. Her head shaking, she went over to the stairwell, and climbed to the landing platform. The Crest landed on it and the hatch automatically opened. Some people would say that that was a security risk and for some it was. No one but her and the Jawas knew that if anyone who entered the ship with the Ground Security Protocols in place – with the exception of herself of course – the near invisible laser net would cut them into dewback fodder. She went to the hatch, climbed aboard and made her way to the ladder. She entered the cockpit and opened up comms and broadcasted to the Jawa Collective. They would have received the refueling station and found her first message by now.
"[Greetings,]" she started, "[This is the Mandalorian. I have come in possession of another former Imperial facility, this one for storage and have no true need of it either. I will trade its contents though. There is a list of inventories attached to this message along with coordinates. The only things that I will have any true interest in it the raw materials. I will be looking over that while I wait for your arrival. With regards to the understanding that the Jawa Collective work on the special project for me that I already mentioned in a past transmission, if there is any interest in the job, either express it in the reply message or with a Jawa delegation on the already named planet and time.]" Din sent it off. She didn't have to wait long. Not ten minutes later, a message came through. Opened, it showed a Jawa. "[You have been busy, Ghost. We will indeed work on special project with you in future. There will be four ships of Jawa coming to your location. We will send Jawa to planet later. Good business.]"
She chuckled at the little creature's attitude, as she turned off the comms and left the Crest again. Din climbed down the stairwell that led to the building beneath the landing platform and looked at the inventory again. The raw materials were placed in a separate building, alone from everything else. Din went to the console that was near identical to the information console on the refueling station. Turned out the thing was the information console, so she decided to do the exact thing and had the computer download everything to a mobile data-chip block. The download was slow. Din calculated that the thing would take a while. She decided to look at the raw materials.
The way was still shrouded in darkness, of course. She turned the night vision back on and walked over to the marked building. It was the small enough size that the Crest wouldn't have been able to put all three landing stabilizers on it. She entered it and looked at the containers. They had numbers on them that corresponded with the inventory list. A mental shrug and sigh later, Din started opening the containers. There was plenty of raw material that she and the Jawas could use to make any number of things, but the thing that really caught her attention and made her mentally praise her ancestors for the luck on this run was nearly overlooked because it was shoved in the far corner. It was a trio of camtono containers that were stacked behind some bigger containers full of glass panels, in the farthest corner of the building.
It contained Beskar Steel. Those three camtono containers were gathered up in near worshipful reverence and placed with dignity on the anti-grav cart that was just inside the building's entrance. A container of Dura-Steel ingots was added to the load. This is all she would take with her. The remote for the cart was in her pocket and a near song of victory in her heart, she strode back into the night. She had just loaded the camtono containers on board the Crest, when she saw the Jawa ships coming in. She loaded the Dura-Steel ingots and went down to get the data-chip block from the information console. As she got it and switched out the remotes, she could hear the excited chatter of several Jawas. She ignored the hub-bub for the time being as she climbed back up to the Crest. Din stored the data-chip block with the one she took from the refueling station and then she went back down to the platform only to find a duo of Jawas rushing up the stairs babbling excitedly. They saw her, rushed over, still babbling. "[Mando good! Mando good business!]" They were so excited that they were speaking brokenly.
Din Djarrin chuckled and bowed, spoke "[I have taken what I wish for my own. Everything else you may have in exchange for the future project. I will let you get to your work; I will meet with whomever is sent by you on Nevarro. I have to be on my way.]" The Jawas bowed and babbled excitedly as they left to go back towards the now organized lines of Jawas having anti-grav carts full of containers rushing towards the ships. Din estimated that the Jawas would have this place emptied inside of two standard days at the rate they were going.
She went back up the hatch, again deactivated the night-infrared vision as she climbed. Closing the hatch and getting the Security Protocols deactivated as she walked to the ladder and ascended. She got in the cockpit and started the lift off.
Din left the moon with a sense of smug satisfaction. Two Imperial facilities gone. They might have been insignificant but then they might not have been. She would take the data on the data-chip blocks and double check. See if there was anything else in this system and return if there was. She put in the coordinates for going to Nevarro. That would take about three hours. Enough for a meal, a bath, laundry to be taken care of, checking the data-chips from the dead embezzler and start writing up the contract that she would try to get Greef Karga to agree to and sign off on. That shouldn't be too difficult. Din would find a way to stay as freelance as possible though. If she hurried, she might even squeeze some Resting Meditation or be able to have practice in using her hidden trump card.
She set the calculations for the jump to Hyperspace and made the jump. When that was done, autopilot took control. Since the alarm would give her a ten-minute warning when it was about to leave Hyperspace, she got up from the pilot's chair and went down to the lower deck. There, she started the small oven's stove top and pulled out a small carbonite slab from an overhead cupboard. She didn't know why no one had thought of this but you could preserve food in carbonite. Din used it for perishable food that didn't take to regular freezing too well. And for when she found an exceptional bargain on different kinds of rations and bought in bulk. She would carbon freeze the extra not needed in a certain amount of time and keep most of these slabs in the last storage container on this deck. That included certain vegetables and fruits. The oven was heated to the proper temperature as she put the already cubed frozen meat inside with a few slices of a slightly acidic fruit in with a chopped herb mixture for flavoring. Taking the water from the slow cooker that was boiling now, she added a couple of ladle's worth to the pan with the food. The rest she kept in the pot for cleaning the blood off her armor later. She took off her helmet now and removed the clothe holding the braid in place off. As she set it aside on the counter by the food, she took out a plate and made a thick bed of various greens for a salad and put it beside the stove top where the meat was coming along nicely.
Din went now over to the two data-chip blocks she had taken from the Imperials. She had left them in their anti-grav crates by the computer closet. She opened that now and checked the status of the data-chips from the dead embezzler. They were clean, wiped of any information and ready for reuse. Fine with her, she took the pouch they had originally been in and put them into it. She put that now-full pouch on her belt for now. They would probably sell for some credits on Nevarro. Then Din took the connecting cables from the data-chip blocks and put both on the cleaning sector for the computer. The computer hummed as it started the process all over again. The time that it would take was estimated to be a complete standard week. Her eyebrows rose. That much information on some out of the way little facilities like that meant that they had been important in some form or fashion. She would have to read about it later. She sighed. What she would give to have a team or even a partner that she could trust – Stop, there was no point in 'if only' wishes. They never came to any good.
Her thoughts turned brighter as she remembered the camtono containers stuffed with Beskar Steel. There was enough Beskar there to make an entirely new set of armor and even make her a new Beskar-Steel Silk outfit and maybe have some left over. She would have to double check, but she thought that she had enough wiring and silk to fabricate the outfit that blazed in her mind. With that on her mind she gave an absentminded stir to the meat, which was still coming along nicely. She took a sniff and estimated there was enough time to start the hot water slowly running into the tub in the upper deck. So, she went and did just that. She returned with a cleaning rag down to the deck where the food cooked away; she looked down and sighed. For a moment she had forgotten the blood splatters until she had passed the mirror set in the bathroom on the upper level. She took off the armor and the outer layer of clothes. Now just in her body suit and socks, she padded over to the meat that could be done. She cut one of the cubes and tested its temperature. While still red it was hot enough to be safe for consumption. She turned off the stove-top and allowed the water – now much lower level from boiling away – to stop bubbling.
Din took the slow cooker with the slightly hot sides now over to her armor. The clothe she had brought down was dipped into the water to wipe away the blood splatters. It was easy enough. The red outfit would have to go into the sonic shower with the other day's outfit. The blood splatters were mostly on her upper armor. She had been amazed that no one had woken up from earlier. They must have been heavy sleepers or they might not have sensitive enough noses at first or a combination of both reasons. She shrugged out of those thoughts. She wiped away the splatters and let the armor dry.
Getting up and getting the meat portion of her meal, she placed it on the bed of greens. She put the herb-acidic fruit mess in the garbage chute where it would go down to the grey hold and be compressed there. She tossed the now done with pan and ladle into the sink for later. Taking the plate and the fork she had used to get the meat out of the pan with, she went over to the bench-chair and ate neatly and quickly. Glancing at the timer, she realized that a whole hour had come and gone. Fifteen minutes later, she was done with her meal. Some people would ogle that she could eat so fast, but as a Mandalorian she had usually be quick with consumption. It was one of the few times a Mando had to take off their helmet. It was just habit for her now after so many years. Almost a decade had passed since the Great Purge had happened, only two years since the Fall of the Empire.
Her thoughts took a dark turn as she thought about those years. She remembered so many horrible things that made her want to be sick, before she told herself firmly to stop before she made herself physically ill. She picked up her now finished with plate and fork and put them in the sink. Started its sonic function as she again glanced at the alarm again. She had an hour and a half left. The water should have filled up the tub by now and automatically shut off by now. She stripped down to her bare skin again as she took both layers of garments and took them into the sonic shower part of the primitive bathroom on this deck. There she opened the small container that held her laundry supplies.
The first thing she took out was an extendable pole that could reach from one end of the sonic shower to the other. Then the collapsible set of hangers for the clothes came next. She put each outfit on the hangers and set them on the pole quickly. Done, she tossed in an incense block that would act like a mix of detergent and no-scent perfume; closed the hatch and started the laundry cycle. That would take about double the time it took to clean the dishes. But hey, it saved on water and used less energy from the power cells than running a usual laundry facility.
That chore done, she walked back out and climbed to the bathroom on the upper deck. Just as she had expected the water was at a level where the sensor said to stop at and was steaming slightly. It looked like a gift from the ancestors. She slowly dipped in, hissing as the hot water lapped over her body. She let the water ease muscles and that was when she remembered the fact that she had forgotten to grab a data-pad and an attached comm so she could dictate the terms for the contract that she wanted Karga and by extension the Bounty Hunters Guild to sign. Well, she had wanted to practice with her hidden trump card.
Leaning back into the embrace of the tub, she closed her eyes and concentrated. She knew where the blasted data-pad was. After so many years on this ship, she knew where everything was and even how it was laid out. Even with all the modifications made over the years. Din mentally pictured where the data-pad was - in part of the shelving built into the headboard of her bed-nest – the data-pad with comm attached floating in the air, coming through the still open doorway. She opened her eyes with a smirk as she saw the data-pad hovering in mid-air right beside her.
She began to dictate lazily as she tried to lessen her concentration on the data-pad. The hot water felt really good, it was lulling her physical body into relaxing and allowing the muscles to unwind slightly, while her mind concentrated on the floating data-pad and the writing of the contract. She stayed like that until the water began to cool. Then Din got out and let the water drain into the recycling system. The water would go through that for a couple of days, but it was worth it to take just a water bath occasionally. She stepped into the shower that was at the foot of the tub and did a quick sonic shower on herself. Still keeping the data-pad floating, but no longer dictating to it, Din came out of the shower a minute later. Leaving the bathroom with the data-pad floating just in front of her, she let it set on the bed while she got dressed.
She glanced at the alarm at the head of the bed. Thirty minutes left. She dressed in another two-piece body suit and put on another outfit, this one in matte-charcoal colors. Din then jumped down the ladder as she put the new belt that was black on. The armor was dry when she checked it. Retying the clothe around her braid and head, she slipped her stockinged feet into her boots. She worked her way up her body, placing the armor on. The last piece was the helmet itself. The alarmed blared.
She made her way back to the cockpit, paused and retrieved the data-pad from her bed. Going fully into the cockpit, she sat down in the pilot's seat and looked over the rough draft. She went through it again as the timer counted down until the Razor Crest exited Hyperspace. Din set it down and put her hands on the controls when the alarm said it was ten seconds away from exiting. She smirked to herself.
[On Nevarro]
POV Change ~ Bounty Hunter Lookout
He was bored out of his mind, keeping a watch for Karga. He knew that he had pissed the boss off, but he felt like it was a mistake anyone could have made. The Bounty Hunter knew there would be no pucks for him for another standard month. It was going to be a lean couple of months. His debt would go up for certain. He – his thoughts derailed as an unfamiliar ship came in. It looked like a modified Razor Crest. As it landed, he straightened. 'Who was this?' then he thought some more and sagged with disgusted resignation. It was probably another bounty hunter. The pucks were slow in-coming these days. Another hunter meant it would be even harder to get a job. He almost wanted to take out a blaster and shoot the bastard who came down that hatch –
His thought process went blank. That is – that is – his mind stuttered. The only being disembarking from the newly landed ship seemed to stalk towards him, elegant death on two legs. That is – that is a MANDALORIAN! His thoughts unfroze and started running in circles as the Mandalorian glided past him, boots making an audible sound, like a war drum marching down the street, deeper into the city. He shook for a minute or so before he realized what just happened. Karga needed to know. He needed to know now! He fumbled at his belt and dropped the comm link. It took him a minute or three for his hands to stop shaking so he could pick the kriffing comm up. When he did manage to keep a grip on it, he commed Karga. "Greef Karga, you have a very important visitor heading your way! I'll rephrase," he gulped, "Karga, I don't know what you did, but a Mandalorian just landed and has entered the city!"
POV Change ~ Greef Karga
He had been having a rough year. It had been slow business with the pucks drying up. The Bounty Hunters Guild was losing income and might even go into debt as a group, rather than just over half of the individuals in debt. He saw a group in the corner, glaring at everyone. They were his top bounty hunters and he knew about them coming close to breaking the Code with near crippling fellow hunters before they could get another puck, but he couldn't sanction them until they actually broke the Code.
He turned to scan the rest of the main room of the cantina that he used as the base of operations for the Bounty Hunters Guild. There were more strained faces than there should have ever been. The tension was high and rising with each passing week. Pretty soon, he knew there would be bloodshed from the hunters tearing each other apart. He drank a shot of Spotchka trying to not pray for a miracle. Who would listen to him anyway?
That was when the comm in his belt pinged and the voice of the Bounty Hunter who had messed up and lost the quarry and pissed off the client into the bargain that he had sent to watch the Landing Yards squeaked through. "Greef Karga, you have a very important visitor heading your way! I'll rephrase," a gulp was audible, "Karga, I don't know what you did, but a Mandalorian just landed and has entered the city!" Squeaked as it was, everyone heard it. The entire cantina went quieter than a graveyard. He glanced down at the comm with a look of faint disbelief on his face. He picked up the comm and spoke into it with a calmness he in no way felt, "What do you mean by asking what did I do? Are you so stupid as to not remember that the New Republic made it mandatory for any bounties to be done either by their own people or through the Bounty Hunters Guild?!" 'The Mando is probably a freelancer who just lost his income. Great, just great. I am about to be saddled with a pissed off Mandalorian when he finds out that I don't have enough work to go around.' It was at that moment that the door opened and as every single head in the place turned, including his, to see the Mandalorian in the threshold.
The Mando walked calmly into the cantina, not seeming to notice the glares on some of the faces and hopeless resignation on others as he approached the booth Karga was sitting in. He paused when he reached the booth and tilted his head. Greef found his voice, "Sit, please." It only trembled a little at the corner. The Mando unsecured the big gun from his back, just as everyone else – including Karga – flinched with their hands going for holsters. But, the Mando just sat down with the gun laid on the table. He seemed to stare at Karga from behind the silver helmet.
Karga swallowed and with a deep breath, stated as calmly as he could, "What can the Bounty Hunters Guild do for you today?" The Mando took the hand closest to the trigger of the rifle and pulled a data-pad from somewhere. Placing that on the table, he slid it over to Greef. Puzzled by the silence, knowing every eye was watching his every move, he knew he could not show too much fear around this Mandalorian. He picked up the data-pad and began to read. It was a contract.
As he read the contract that was on the data-pad, he had to reread it several times to let the words really register in his mind. When he knew he had not misread this contract; he looked up and near flatly incredulous said, "You have got to be joking." The Mandalorian shook his head. The other hunters now had hands on blasters, ready to shoot the newcomer. They didn't want to know what about the contents on that data-pad were, if they made Greef Karga of all men act like that.
The group who comprised of some of the best hunters in the Guild stomped up to booth. They sneered almost at the same time as the leader snarled in the Mandalorian's helmet, "We don't need you to come swaggering in here, Mando! There aren't enough work as it is, without you butting in!" He went to snatch the data-pad out of Karga's hand when a blaster was jammed under the rude hunter's chin. Humming clicks were heard throughout the cantina while the hunter froze where he was.
No one had seen the Mando move, but while the rifle was still on the table, the Mandalorian was no longer in the booth. In the left hand, the blaster was pressed under the hunter's chin and the right hand was fisted with a strange humming seeming to come from the vambrace, pointing at the other six hunters. All seven hunters continued to be frozen, but their eyes spat venom at the Mando. Karga closed his eyes and sighed. Shaking his head, he looked towards the room, "This is a contract draft between this Bounty Hunter and the Guild itself. It is not in any real way anyone else's business unless Mando here," he gestured to the still frozen group where the Mando was still a threatening specter, "wants to make it known."
Karga glanced at the Mandalorian and said calmly, "Could you please release the group?" The Mando didn't reply, but the hunters glowered hate at both him and the Mando. The Mando slowly took the blaster from under the chin of the hunter it had been under and lowered the fisted right. As he seemed to start to turn back to the booth to face Karga, the former pinned hunters charge the Mando with a unified roar of fury. A blast of heat and the cantina froze in shocked horror.
The top seven bounty hunters – in under ten seconds – had been reduced to screaming flaming bodies flailing on the floor. Karga had seen the entire thing go down in slow motion. The fisted right hand swung from the right to the left in one smooth motion, while release a spray of fire. Fire that consumed the lower half of everyone in range – which were only the seven hunters in the group. When they fell screaming, the fist unclenched and the flames stopped. The left hand – still holding the blaster – came up. A singing blaster reported seven times and the screaming ended. This was when the Mandalorian spoke for the first time since entering the cantina. "Anyone else?"
It was a deep quiet growl, with a slight rasp under the monotone that seemed to weigh down all those who heard it with a menacing warning. Hands all around the room came off the blasters and were raised into the air, while heads shook vigorously. They had all seen that: the top seven most lethal bounty hunters in the entire parsec had been handled by one man in a span of time it took to blink. No one had even seen him start to move in the first place.
Karga wasn't sure what he was feeling, it was a heady mix. One-part awe, the legends about the abilities of the Mandalorian could be less overblown than he had thought, with the evidence that his own eyes had shown him occur not a minute ago. One-part relief, now he would not have to deal with those seven arrogant nerf herders. One-part shocked horror, seven people he knew just cut down right there in front of him in a very violent way. And the last part was wonder, but that had to do with the contract he held in his hand for the most part.
He glanced down at it and said "This is extremely unusual. Such a deal has never been made, even during the time of the Old Republic." The other occupants slowly lowered their hands and went back to their previous business while keeping an eye on the Mandalorian who had reseated. Karga knew that every single one of the other bounty hunters were straining to overhear the conversation that would hopefully be taking place. The Mando just looked at him. "Are you sure about this kind of deal? It doesn't afford you as much protection as a full-time Guild member."
The Mandalorian stated quite firmly, "I could always go back to the New Republic and accept their offer as Consulting Bounty Hunter, where they would just hand over all the open bounties to me and leave nothing for the Guild." Karga froze then, physically and mentally, because then he knew exactly who sat on the other side of the booth from him. He girded himself, this Mandalorian was just as infamous as the Fett who worked for the Empire. This was the Ghost. When Greef came back from the frozen moment, he felt the tension in the room spike. The other hunters had given up on any kind of subtlety and were staring at the booth. Greef knew if he somehow messed this up, the entire cantina would probably form a mob going after two targets, him primarily.
He took a deep breath as he looked at the contract. It was rather well done and seemed to cover most scenarios that would come up in their line of business. It even had a clause for unexpected problems between fellow hunters and the Mandalorian. There were a few things that puzzled Karga though and those were the lines he questioned the Mandalorian on. "It is an excellent contract, but I do have some questions on some of the conditions here," He pointed at the data-pad and continued, "these lines about the no questions policy, a plausible deniability status on the part of the Guild and this little bit about teaming up on bounties."
Karga looked up and tried to read the Mandalorian's blank helmet and body language. Nothing, it was like trying to read an encoded droid. No emotions at all showed. "This contract will allow me the freedom I desire, the ability to ask questions, to remonstrate with foolish clients; all without the Guild paying for it. The condition about the partners should be easy enough to deal with. I don't wish to share a ship with anyone I don't trust explicitly. As of right now, I wouldn't trust a single one of you with a dead Bantha. And I will not work with droids, so no partnering with droids at all." The raspy monotone had darkened a little during the last sentence. Karga had no doubt that this Mando would probably shoot him and the droid he tried to send with him. He wasn't stupid enough to take that chance.
Instead, he nodded his assent and said, "Alright, welcome as a part-time Consulting Bounty Hunter of the Bounty Hunters Guild. This contract will be honored." He took the stylus from his own pocket and signed as the Agent of the Guild on Nevarro. "Now," he continued, the tension that had been in the air for what seemed like an eternity, festered into a storm front on the horizon, "you have to pay – "the Mando interrupted him with a pouch carelessly tossed onto the table top. It clicked with credits. Karga set down the data-pad and reached for the pouch. The Mando took the data-pad and disengaged a holodisk, which he seemed to put in a hidden pocket in his chest plate. That's when Karga near had a heart attack; he had opened to pouch, expecting to find some credits, but not the entire fee for entering the Guild.
That was the rule: either bring in your first bounty as your fee or pay ten thousand credits. The Mandalorian had just handed over a pouch with enough credits to get in the Guild five times over. His choked gasp was followed with – what almost sounded like a drawling monotone from the Mandalorian – "I would like a job within the next two standard days. If there is a partner, have them meet here beside you. This is my comm information for my ship." With that he handed Karga a data-chip and rose. Taking up the rifle, the Mandalorian rose from the booth and started to walk towards the door. Karga blinked in surprise. The Mando was very abrupt. And very anti-social. He barely had time to say "Be seeing you," before the hunter had exited the Cantina.