I.
Bounty hunting was never easy, but Boba Fett had a good feeling about this job.
He had just emerged from hyperspace above the planet Benevole. From up here, the wide blue oceans and sprawling green continents looked peaceful. But Fett knew an ugly war raged down there, and his target was in the middle of it. That was fine by Fett. Bounty hunters usually worked best in warzones, where violent acts attracted little attention.
If all goes well, this job should be easy credits, Fett thought. Or so he hoped.
A red light blinked on Fett's instrument panel aboard his ship, Slave I.
"A hail from the Imperial garrison," the artificial intelligence aboard Slave I told Fett over the cockpit speakers.
"Patch them through," Fett said.
"Benevole Command to Slave I, come in, over," said a bored voice over the commlink.
"Slave I to Benevole Command, I read you, over," Fett said.
"What is your business coming to Benevole," the bored voice asked.
Fett rolled his eyes beneath his helmet.
Red tape and I haven't even touched the surface, he thought.
"None that I can discuss with you," Fett said. "It is of a sensitive nature. I would like to speak with your commanding officer."
The commlink clicked to hold. Fett tapped his fingers on the arm of his pilot chair as The Imperial March crackled through the cockpit speakers.
Now comes the expensive part, he thought to himself. The cost of doing business.
Fett sighed. It was all this red tape that made bounty hunting such an expensive business. His clients always balked at the high prices he demanded for his labor. But really, between fuel, gear and bribery, his prices barely turned a profit. In fact, Fett considered himself a bargain deal for this kind of work. At least, if the client wanted the job done right.
"Captain Brivilli here," said a haughty voice over the commlink. "I am the dock officer for Nodu spaceport. I presume this is Boba Fett."
"You presume correctly," said Fett.
"What are you doing here?"
"I cannot tell you."
Brivilli sighed.
"The security situation is tenuous here on Benevole," he said. "We cannot have another armed bounty hunter roaming around sowing chaos."
"I understand," Fett said. "But perhaps I might make it worth your while."
The commlink was silent for a moment.
It is possible that this officer is above corruption, Fett thought. But it is unlikely.
"You might," Brivilli said. "Land at Docking Bay 687. My associate will meet you there."
The commlink clicked off, and Boba frowned as he angled Slave I towards the surface. The job was off to a rough start, but he still looked forward to meeting a special someone on the planet below. She was not the target, but she would know where to find him.
And I have a surprise for her in return, Fett smiled. A very expensive surprise.
II.
Hail's world shrank to a fuzzy green circle as he peered through the night vision scope atop Crow's sniper rifle. It was another dark winter night in the wilderness of Benevole. A half-mile in front of Hail gaped the mouth of a dangerous cave he would soon crawl into. He was not happy about it.
"Why am I always the one who has to sneak into places?" he asked Crow, not for the first time.
"Because you're younger, smaller and lower rank than me," said Crow. "That means you do what I say."
Hail pulled back from the scope and looked at Crow, who sat cross-legged behind a tree. Like Hail, Crow was a death trooper, clad head-to-toe in matte black stealth armor. Like Hail, Crow had an array of knives, grenades and ammunition cartridges clipped to his limbs and torso. But unlike Hail, Crow did not have a rifle in his hands. Instead, he was building a snowman. It seemed strange for an undead cyborg commando to be building a snowman. But then again, so was Crow.
"We've been together for six months now," Hail said. "Don't you think it's time we mix it up a little?"
Crow did not look up as he gave the snowman twigs for arms.
"You see what I'm doing here?" he asked.
"You're building a snowman," Hail said.
"And what would I normally be doing at a time like this?"
Hail shrugged.
"I don't know," he said. "Probably playing holo-sabacc or something."
"Exactly," said Crow. The older trooper looked up at Hail, his helmet visor blazing green in the darkness. "And who left my holo-sabacc console on a mountaintop two weeks ago?"
Hail rolled his eyes.
"Oh, not this again," he said. "We were in the middle of an ambush. It was either get off the mountain or get blasted off. I couldn't have gone back for it."
Crow pointed a twig at Hail accusingly.
"I let you borrow my holo-sabacc console that night," he said. "It was my one prized possession, and do you remember what I said?"
Hail groaned.
"I know what you told me," he said. But Crow ignored him.
"I said, 'Do not lose this holo-sabacc console, Hail. This holo-sabacc console is my one prized possession. It is my only escape from hiding in the woods, staking out middle-of-nowhere mountain hamlets all day. It is my only way to come down from shooting the rebels we find in those hamlets. Do not lose this holo-sabacc console, Hail, or I will slowly disintegrate.' Do you remember me saying that, Hail?"
"For the hundredth time yes, Crow," Hail said, exasperated. "And I remember saying you need to find a new hobby. Besides, look at how busy you are building that snowman."
Crow slapped the snowman, flattening the creature and sending twigs flying.
"You think this snow keeps me busy?" he hissed. "I am counting the days until we can get back to that mountaintop and find that console, if it has not already been destroyed!"
"Like I said, you need a new hobby," Hail said. "Anyway, I can just buy you a new one next time we're off-world."
Crow scoffed.
"Off-world?" He asked. "You're no longer a storm commando, boy. You're a death trooper. We don't go 'off-world' until the war's over, or the commander says otherwise. And the way this insurgency is going, I don't see either of those things happening soon."
"Then you keep proving my point," Hail said. "It's time you found a new hobby."
Crow's green visor stared at Hail for a long, tense moment. Then he reached a hand towards him, palm up.
"Give me that rifle, boy," Crow said.
Hail handed over the sniper rifle, and Crow aimed it at the village nestled in the steep valley below them.
"Looks like most of the lights are out now," he said. "You say it's time for me to get a new hobby. I say it's time for you to get a move on. Remember, Command wants any intel we can find on the local rebel leader. Maybe you can find me a new holo-sabacc console while you're at it."
Hail frowned, picked up his own blaster rifle, then stalked off through the woods towards the gaping cave. He half-expected Crow to shoot him in the back.
III.
Night had fallen by the time Boba Fett landed Slave I at the spaceport in Nodu, the capital of Benevole. Docking Bay 687 was empty save for a reed-like man wearing a grey Imperial officer uniform. The man was flanked by two white-armored stormtroopers.
"How much do you want?" Fett asked as he strode down the ramp of Slave I to meet them.
"10,000," said the officer.
Fett stopped in his tracks. He was used to paying hefty bribes, but 10,000 credits was ludicrous, even by Imperial standards.
"That's a steep fee," he said. "Not taxing the Benevoleans enough?"
The officer had a prosthetic right eye, and its red lense bore into Fett.
"Imperial troops are glad to work hand in hand with our Benevolean partners to stabilize the region," he said. "But bounty hunters have a proclivity for mayhem. They must pay if they wish to visit."
"5,000 and I was never here," said Fett.
"You will pay 10,000, or you will leave," the officer said. "Those are your only options."
Fett stared at the red eye for a long moment. He could shoot the three Imperials, but that would raise an alarm and sour his business with the Empire. He could try to haggle, but he had simply no leverage over this man. It was either pay up or start shooting, and shooting would not make things any easier.
Fett sighed.
The price of being notorious, he thought.
Fett paid the bribe and watched the three Imperials leave the docking bay. Despite his mood, he still found himself smiling as he took his surprise gift out of a storage locker and placed it gingerly in a duffel bag. It was an expensive gift, and Fett could not help but feel excited when he imagined her reaction.
"Sir," Slave I said as Fett made his way back down the ramp. "Shouldn't you wear a disguise or something? Your target, [REDACTED], will surely have spies in the city. If they saw you, they might raise an alarm, and [REDACTED] might run."
Fett paused, frowning beneath his helmet. The ship was right. He had paid too much already to land his ship here. If he had to stay longer to root out [REDACTED], the Imperials might come slithering back for another bribe.
More damn red tape, Fett thought as he walked back into the ship. He found a shawl in his cold weather trunk and wrapped it around his head. Then he slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, activated the ship's defenses, and finally strode down the ramp and out into Nodu's crowded streets.
The city was wedged into a steep ravine, its buildings stacked atop each other and its streets running up jagged switchbacks cut into the bedrock. It was a cold winter night, but the narrow streets were packed with human revelers wearing warm jackets and red ear muffs. They sang in Nodulish, lit crackling sparklers and pounded on heavy, booming drums. Whole families waved banners and held paper lanterns glowing brightly in the frosty air. The banners and lanterns were painted with images of a crown adorned with gleaming red rubies. Any image of treasure piqued Fett's curiosity these days.
"Slave I, what is this festival about? What are those crowns?" Fett asked his ship via his helmet commlink.
"They're tiaras," the ship said. "Specifically, the Blood Tiara, the symbol of the Nodulish monarch who used to rule this planet. Local legends say it has mystical powers. They say peasant folk stole the Blood Tiara from the royal court many years ago. Every winter since then, the humans in Nodu have celebrated the tiara in hope of its return. They believe it will allow them to crush the rebellious peasants once and for all."
Fett nodded, impressed.
"What a thing to hope for," he said. "But who doesn't love crushing peasants, I suppose."
The Nodulish were not the only ones in the streets tonight. Fett spotted several handfuls of Imperial stormtroopers patrolling the city. Three of them were busy interrogating a couple of shabby-looking men standing with their backs against a wall.
"The Imperials are crushing the peasants already," Fett said. "Looks like Nodu doesn't need its crown after all."
"Tiara," Slave I corrected.
"I don't care."
Slave I said nothing as Fett wove through the crowd and into the seedier parts of town. The singing and the drumbeats faded in the cramped alleys, replaced by the beeps of hover-rickshaws and the chatter of the marketplace.
No celebrating oppression down here, Fett thought as he strode past the huddled clusters of Benevoleans. They wore dirty clothes and worn faces, but Fett paid them no heed. They were irrelevant to his mission, his target. Before long, the Mountain Lion appeared before him, its entrance shimmering pink and blue under saber-tooth-shaped neon lights. Fett felt the club music rattle his armor as he approached the door.
"I need to speak with Seumas," he yelled to the bouncer over the music. Fett saw tattoos of ivy appear on the thick man's face and coil around his glaring eyes. The bounty hunter knew those tattoos were the mark of a local mob, one which stole the Imperial weapons and sold them on the black market. Fett also knew that this mob did not sell to peasant rebels. No, their customers were of the off-world variety. Better prices that way.
"Does Seumas need to speak with you?" the bouncer asked, folding his meaty arms across his chest.
Again, Fett rolled his eyes under his helmet.
I don't have time for this, he thought.
The bounty hunter tossed a jangling pouch of credits to the bouncer, who caught it one-handed.
"And that better be the last red tape," he muttered as he strode inside.
The Mountain Lion was crowded with a dozen different species glowing pink and blue in the neon. The air pulsed with electronic noise that Fett thought sounded like exploding seismic charges. The bounty hunter made his way to the back of the club, where he found Seumas' office door. He stopped there, looked up at the holocamera above him, then pulled back his shawl. The door opened, and Fett slipped inside, closing it behind him. The raging music faded away, and a smoky voice slipped into its absence.
"Boba, it's been a while," the voice whispered from behind a cluttered metal desk. Half the club owner's face was hidden by shadow. The other half was bathed in pink neon light flickering in through the office's one-way mirror. A single piercing eye watched Fett from atop a sharp cheekbone as the bounty hunter approached the desk.
"How have you been?" Seumas said, a tender note in her voice.
"Busy," Fett muttered, unslinging the bag from his shoulder. He stepped forward, placed it gently on the desk, then stepped back for her to look.
"What's this?"
"A gift," Fett bowed. "For all your helpful aid."
Pale, ivy-tattooed hands reached out from the shadows and slowly unzipped the bag. Boba held his breath as they pulled out the box within.
"Oh, Boba," Seumas said, her voice wafting through Fett's helmet speakers as she peered inside. "That looks expensive."
The bounty hunter smiled beneath his helmet. He had met plenty of beautiful, mysterious women in his line of work. But none had the same effect on him as Seumas. Which was why Fett could not believe it when the club lord closed the lid and pushed the box away.
Seumas leaned forward, exposing the hidden half of her face to the neon light. It was the half that was covered in deep scars, the half with a green prosthetic eye that could scan through every level of Fett's armor. It was the half that Fett loved most about her.
"I appreciate the gift, Boba," Seumas said, fixing that green eye on him. "But it really wasn't necessary. We go back years now. What can I do for you?"
For the third time today, Fett found himself frowning beneath his helmet. This was not the reaction he had been hoping for. He stared back at Seumas. Now the blood in his cheeks felt more like embarrassment than excitement. More like a weight than a rush.
"I'm … I'm looking for the insurgent leader, [REDACTED]," Fett said.
Seumas leaned back in her chair, shadows covering her scars again.
"A lot of people are looking for [REDACTED]," she said. "Who sent you to find him?"
"Jabba the Hutt," he spat. Fett normally kept his employers secret, as a professional courtesy. But now the bounty hunter felt a growing recklessness within him.
Why keep it a secret anyway, he thought. Isn't the whole point of this job to send a message?
Seumas nodded.
"I was wondering how [REDACTED] got his spice off-world," she said. "I should have suspected the great Jabba had something to do with it. But it sounds like something spoiled in their arrangement. And that's why you're here."
Fett said nothing. He scanned the bank of security holofeeds behind Seumas, spotting one of the thickset bouncer out front.
"You saw me bribe your man," Fett said, nodding towards the feed. "Why did you let that happen?"
Seumas glanced behind her at the feed, then chuckled.
"I know only one person in the galaxy who wears knee-mounted needle rockets," she said. "That shawl didn't cover them up. If you had waited a second longer, I could have let you in, and you would not have bribed Goriath. But he needs the extra cash, and I let him keep what's given to him."
Fett curled his fingers into a fist, silently cursing his own foolishness. If he had not been so hasty to see Seumas, he could have spared himself another costly bribe. Seumas changed the subject.
"Last I heard, [REDACTED] was in [REDACTED], a village up in the highlands," she said.
Fett turned on his heels and strode towards the door, already entering [REDACTED] into the navigation panel on his gauntlet.
"Boba," Seumas said as Fett gripped the door handle. The bounty hunter turned to see her leaning forward, the scarred half of her face glowing again in the neon.
"You'll put that shawl back on, right?" she asked. "[REDACTED] has spies out there. If you go out like that, he'll know you're here for him."
Fett's grip tightened on the door handle. It was not the good-bye he was hoping for, and that made him angry. Angry enough that he didn't care for shawls anymore.
"I'm counting on it," Fett said. Then he swung the door open, strode through the blaring club and out into the dark night.
IV.
Crow watched Hail through his rifle scope as the young death trooper wove through the trees towards the mouth of the cave.
The new guy isn't so bad, he thought. But he'll never be as good as Dust. Dust was the best there ever was.
Crow panned his rifle left, down the snow-covered valley and the village below. He was the lookout while Hail searched the cave. Death troopers could only do their jobs so long as they remained unseen. Crow and Hail excelled at the task, at least until their discovery on the mountaintop two weeks ago. They had to trek for six days nonstop up and down jagged-peaked mountains to lose their pursuers after that. But they were death troopers. They were built for that sort of thing.
Didn't even break a sweat, Crow thought. Though I guess we can't sweat anyway.
The death troopers were wraiths in every sense of the word. Only fatally wounded Imperial troops were recruited into their ranks, though the recruitment was often done while the soldier was lying unconscious in a medbay. Their innards were replaced with fusion reactors, which allowed them to operate behind enemy lines for months without food or rest. Their eyes and ears were spliced with spectrum-sweeping sensors; their bones replaced with ceramic pipes, and their blood replaced with cooling fluid that coagulated immediately after an injury.
On their resurrected bodies the troopers wore black stealth armor that hid them from enemy eyes and sensors. Then they were dropped deep into enemy territory to prowl the countryside and wait for the chance to strike. The death troopers were unique among their special operations brethren. Scout troopers provided reconnaissance, storm commandos destroyed bridges and captured starports. But death troopers specialized in one kind of mission: sheer terror.
Beneath his helmet, Crow smiled at the thought of their last mission: the assassination of a village elder suspected of harboring rebel fighters. He and Hail had watched the village for a week before sneaking into the elder's home on a cold, moonless night. They crept up to the elder's bedroom and shot him dead with silenced blasters. They didn't even wake his wife as she slept next to him.
The Empire could have dropped bombs on that village, Crow thought. It could have blasted its leaders with probe droids, or sent a squad of stormtroopers to kick down the doors and arrest everyone inside. But nothing strikes more terror than a ghost in the night.
The death trooper whispered a prayer of thanks to the death goddess. Then he watched the paths in the forest, the branches swaying in the breeze. He saw full moonlight refracting in a still pond, and he traced the trails back to the village, where all was quiet as the villagers slept.
"Entering the cave," Hail whispered over the radio. "Will probably lose connection inside."
"Roger," Crow said. "Good hunting."
Through the scope, Crow watched Hail slip into the cave. The mission was simple: Hail was to search for documents showing who the local insurgents bought their weapons from. If they found the paper trail, the Empire could cut the insurgents off from whoever was propping up their campaign.
The sooner the better, Crow thought. This rebellion is about to tear the planet in half.
But whether Hail found the documents or not, one thing was certain. The local warlord, [REDACTED], now sleeping in the village nearby, was going to die. Crow and Hail would pay him a visit as soon as Hail finished his search.
Crow continued sweeping the rifle barrel over the village, then came to a sudden halt. A light had come on in one of the houses. Then two more, then another five. Soon half the town was awake, and Crow began to worry.
Has Hail been spotted? Crow thought. Did he set off a tripwire or something?
"Hail, sitrep," Crow said into the com. "You good in there?"
But Crow heard only static in reply. The cave was blocking the connection. Down in the village, Crow spotted several adult males gathering on the main street, rubbing sleep out of their eyes as they started walking up the valley towards the cave. Crow tightened his grip on his rifle. Some of the men had weapons slung over their shoulders. Hunting rifles, nothing heavy, but these men certainly knew how to use them.
"Hail, if you're receiving this, we've got 21 adult males gathering in the village," Crow said. "Some are armed, can't tell what-"
The death trooper froze as he spotted one of the figures in the crowd. He raised the zoom on his scope to its highest level. No doubt about it, [REDACTED] was here, and he was leading the band of men up through the valley.
Crow could feel the reactor valves cycling faster inside his chest. He and Hail had seen brief glimpses of [REDACTED] over the past week, but he had mostly stayed locked up inside his house. Crow assumed it was because [REDACTED] was trying to avoid detection by snipers in the hills, or probe droids overhead.
Something big must be happening for him to leave his house tonight, Crow thought.
The death trooper tracked the men as they crunched through the snow towards the cave. If they entered the cave, the men could trap Hail inside and kill him. Hail's armor would self-destruct, but it would likely destroy the important documents he found. He would have died for nothing.
And I'll need his help finding my holo-sabacc console, Crow thought.
Crow double-checked the readouts on his rifle. All systems green. He had a plan now: pin the men down with sniper fire until Hail got out of the cave. It would be a tough fight: Crow was vastly outnumbered and outgunned. But he would do it to complete the mission.
The men from the village were about halfway towards the cave now. At the edge of the forest was a clearing about 10 meters wide, on the other side of which was the cave mouth. Crow could pin the men down right at the edge of the woods to keep them from reaching Hail. They would not dare cross the open ground of the clearing with a sniper watching them.
That's it, he thought. That's the kill zone.
The death trooper flicked off the safety of his rifle as his quarry approached the clearing. He sighted in on [REDACTED], still leading from the front. He offered a small prayer to the rifle gods. Then he pulled the trigger.
V.
Hail tried to raise Crow on his commlink, but heard only static in return.
Must be this cave blocking the signal, Hail thought.
The death trooper shook his head as he looked around at the mess of holo-projectors and data terminals scattered around him. He was supposed to be looking for receipts, shipping manifests, contracts, correspondence, anything that could reveal who the rebels were buying their weapons from. But so far, no luck, and all because of a broken translator.
Hail's helmet had been bugging out on him ever since he took a tumble coming down the mountaintop two weeks ago. Now Hail's translation software was malfunctioning, which was a problem when he was surrounded by documents he could not read. Hail thought he could figure it out, maybe find some diagrams of blaster rifles or laser cannons. But as he pored over yet another data-terminal, he realized that it was all still gibberish to him.
This is bad, Hail thought. If I don't come out of here with something useful, Crow will never let me hear the end of it.
Despite his circumstances, Hail felt himself smiling. He shook his head.
Here I am, Hail thought, a nuclear-powered cyborg raiding a rebel cave in the middle of nowhere, and all I can think about is Crow's nagging.
For a commando, Crow did have a flair for the dramatic. The man had as many superstitions as he did ammo cartridges. It went beyond lucky pebbles or feathers, which Hail saw a lot of scout troopers take with them on missions. No, Crow had woven an elaborate system of totems, rituals and taboos into a one-man religion. He said hello to trees at sunrise, berated Hail any time he stepped on an ant, and even patted rocks good night, whispering 'I love you' to them.
Hail understood it to an extent: soldiers had to have a control over the little things so that they could feel a sense of control over the big things, like combat or space-diving. But Crow needed way more control than most.
Maybe he's onto something, Hail thought. Something must be keeping him alive in the field all these years.
The death trooper shook his head as he looked down at the mess of files around him. He kicked over a broken data terminal in frustration, and it shattered on the cave floor. But then the frustration gave way to relief when he found a stack of weapons diagrams stashed inside the broken machine.
So I guess that's a sign to start praying, he thought.
Hail gathered the papers and started running back up the cave. He passed racks of blaster rifles, thermal detonators, rocket launchers and other things that went boom. It was enough to supply a stormtrooper platoon, but something brought him to a halt. It wasn't a weapon, it was a ruby glinting at him from an alcove hidden between racks of blasters.
Is that a crown? Hail asked. No, a tiara.
For reasons Hail could not explain, he felt compelled to reach out and grab the ruby-encrusted tiara. It seemed to resonate with unspeakable value. He could not take his eyes off it.
I'm taking this with me, he thought. Even if these papers are worthless, at least this tiara might come in handy.
Hail clipped the tiara to his belt, feeling strangely detached from reality. It was as if a puppeteer had taken control of his limbs and sent him walking back up the cave. He had no idea what the puppeteer planned to do with him, but-
Footsteps, Hail thought as he heard the sound of people running down the cave towards him. The puppeteer's strings fell away as Hail's training took over. He dropped the papers, crouched by the tunnel wall and aimed his blaster as the footsteps drew near. Two of them, by the sound of it.
How did these guys get past Crow? Hail thought. Something must have happened to him.
Two young men sprinted around the corner. Hail recognized them. They were villagers from [REDACTED]. He and Crow had seen them work the farms in the morning, go to school in the afternoon, then return to their homes after dark. Now they would never go home again. Hail raised his blaster and killed them both with two short bursts.
They were fine kids, Hail thought as he picked up the papers and stepped over their bodies. But I could not let them endanger the mission.
The death trooper heard blaster fire growing louder as he reached the cave mouth.
It's a no-shit firefight, he thought.
Hail saw roughly a dozen men crouched behind trees, firing hunting rifles at Crow's sniper hide. Occasionally, a flash of red light would burst out from the hide, and one of the men would drop, joining the handful of still bodies already on the ground.
"Crow, what did I tell you about talking to strangers?" Hail said over the commlink.
"Just shut up and shoot these guys," Crow hissed back between bursts of blaster fire. "I called in a TIE, we just have to hold on until it gets here."
"Roger that," Hail said as he aimed his rifle at the men below. They had no idea Hail was there and were completely exposed to his fire. A tall man went down quick, just like the two kids in the cave. Hail got two more before the survivors turned to face him. Hail and opened fire.
"Well, I got their attention," Hail said, ducking back into the cave. "How's that airstrike coming?"
"10 seconds," Crow said. "Keep your head down."
Hail fired off a few last shots, then pressed his head into the cave floor as he heard the primal scream of a TIE Striker roaring overhead. Then came the boom. Hail gripped the dirt as the bombs shook the earth. Dust fell from the ceiling and tiny rocks pinged off Hail's armor. Then the cave rumbled again as the Striker dropped still more ordnance on the enemy. Hail hung on through the earthquake, but after a few seconds the boom faded and he crept back outside.
The forest was now a field of blackened craters lit by the glow of burning trees. The men from the village had been vaporized.
"Hail, you up?" Crow asked over the commlink. "Get over here, the Striker's going to pick up whatever you got from that cave."
Hail smiled. Against all odds, he had some kind of paper trail to show Crow. But he had something else too. Something just for him.
You'll be my little secret, Hail thought, glancing down at the tiara on his hip.
VI.
A trail of fire streaked behind Boba Fett as he ripped through the night sky on his jetpack. Stars shone overhead, and the peaks and ridges of the mountain range surrounding the village reached up for him like sharp stakes.
"Time to target?" Fett asked Slave I.
"30 seconds. Recommend you ready your weapons."
Fett flicked the safety off his blaster rifle, armed the torpedo mounted to his jetpack, primed the flamethrower strapped to his wrist. If [REDACTED] and his followers wanted a fight, then Fett was ready to give them one.
"10 seconds," Slave I said. Fett watched the lights of the village speed towards him.
Wait, he thought. Why are the lights on so late at night? Why is there smoke rising from the mountains?
"Breaking off," Fett told Slave I as he pulled up and flew over the village. "Something's wrong."
Fett scanned the charred valley beneath him. Someone had just bombed the place, and unless the villagers had aircraft hidden somewhere, Fett was certain it was the Empire.
Looks like I'm late to the party, he thought as he touched down amid the bodies and smoldering timber.
Fett felt a sense of dread come over him. If [REDACTED] was dead, then Fett had just spent a fortune in bribes chasing a ghost. Even worse, he would have to return Jabba the Hutt's down payment. Without that payment, Fett wasn't sure if he would have enough fuel to get off Benevole.
The bounty hunter was already calculating what he would have to sell to make ends meet when he turned and saw a TIE Striker emerging from the woods to the south. The bat-shaped bomber rose into the air, its engines roaring as it turned and shot off towards the horizon. Fett watched the ship, puzzled.
Why would a Striker land here after a bombing run? He thought. Perhaps to pick up a ground team. But Strikers were two-seater aircraft. How could it pick up ground troops? Unless ... unless the ground troops were still on the ground.
Fett activated his jetpack and launched himself over the woods. If he could catch that ground team, they could tell him whether [REDACTED] was dead. They might try to shoot him first, but Fett had the ordnance to calm them down.
The bounty hunter touched down in a clearing and crept into the trees, blaster at the ready.
These aren't typical stormtroopers we're dealing with, he thought. They must be highly-skilled for that Striker to leave them here in hostile territory.
The thought saved Fett's life, because when he heard a twig snap behind him, he knew it was snapped on purpose. Fett dove to the ground, a red blaster bolt racing through the air where his head had been a heartbeat earlier. Then he turned and fired his rifle where the shot had come from. A cry of pain rang out, but Fett was already on the move, using his jetpack to fly mere inches above the forest floor as he rocketed towards his attacker. He saw a glowing green visor, jet black armor, and soon Fett was on him, pressing his rifle into the soldier's helmet and kneeling on his back.
"I only stunned him," Fett called out to the woods, assuming there were more of them watching from the trees. "All I want is information."
The night was quiet for a moment, then a harsh voice crept out from somewhere deeper in the woods.
"What information do you want?" it rasped.
"Did you kill [REDACTED]?" Fett asked.
Another silent moment.
"What's it to you?"
"There was a bounty on his head. A big one."
"And you, Boba Fett, were here to claim it. You arrived too late. I shot him myself. Then he was vaporized in an airstrike."
Fett narrowed his eyes.
"And you two just happened to attack him the same night I got here," he asked.
"Well, it wasn't meant to go down like this" the voice rasped. "We were supposed to kill him in his bed. Then things went sideways. Maybe he heard you were coming for him."
Fett tightened his grip on his rifle as he felt another wave of frustration pass over him. He had been too hasty storming out of Seumas' club like that, without bothering to cover his helmet. Someone must have spotted him. He should have kept himself in check.
"I am going to lose a lot of credits on this job," Fett sighed, shaking his head.
The forest was silent again. Then, like a ragged wind, the voice crept back again.
"I'm sorry to hear that," it rasped. "But it may not be a total loss."
Fett stared into the trees until he spotted a green visor staring back at him from the darkness.
"Go on," he said.
VII.
Hail's world shrank to a fuzzy green circle as he peered through the night vision scope atop Crow's sniper rifle. Down in the valley below him stood another village, full of Benevoleans waving good night to their neighbors. The lights went out one by one, until the whole valley was shrouded in darkness.
"Still no weapons on anyone," Hail said. "Haven't seen one all week."
Crow didn't respond, not that Hail expected him to anyway. He looked over at his partner, curled behind a boulder with the pale blue light of his holo-sabacc console reflected in his visor. The older death trooper had been playing it nearly nonstop ever since it mysteriously returned to him after the raid at [REDACTED]. Hail still had a hard time believing how it happened.
"So let me get this straight," Hail said. "You made a deal with the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy, and all you wanted in return was that holo-sabacc console?"
"Correct," Crow said, distracted by his game.
"And all you had to trade for it was my tiara?"
"Correct."
"But why didn't he just kill you and take the tiara anyway?"
Crow shrugged.
"I told him I could blow up your armor at any second, taking him and the tiara with it."
"You would blow me up for a holo-sabacc console?"
Crow didn't answer, still focused on the game in front of him. Hail shook his head. Crow had found the tiara on Hail's belt after the Striker had taken off that night at [REDACTED]. Crow was yelling at him for not putting it on the aircraft with the weapons papers when Fett showed up. Hail was still mad at Crow for trading it away. But it felt more like a faded dream at this point, rather than a puppeteer controlling his every movement.
"So then Fett just flew off to the mountaintop and the console was still there?" he asked.
"Correct," Crow said.
"And then he just swapped it for the tiara."
Crow nodded.
"Good things happen to good people," he said.
Hail scoffed, and Crow turned to him.
"What?" he asked. "You think I'm a bad person?"
Hail shook his head.
"Of course not," he said, leaning back into the fuzzy green world of the sniper scope.
"You're the best," he added. "You and Boba Fett. The best there ever was."
VIII.
Boba Fett sat in the cockpit of Slave I, counting the coins the planetary governor had given him for the tiara. There were more than enough to make up for the bribes, the cost of fuel, and the down payment he had to return to Jabba the Hutt after failing to kill [REDACTED]. In fact, it was far more than what he would have made if he had killed the man.
The death trooper was right, Fett thought. It was not a total loss after all.
Retrieving the holo-sabacc console from the mountaintop was not difficult. Why the death trooper would exchange such a junky gadget for a priceless artifact was beyond Fett. But treasure was treasure, and Fett presented it to the planetary governor at her palace the next morning.
"At last, the prophecy is complete," she said. "Now we will destroy those peasants once and for all."
Fett stowed the coins in a safe as Slave I blasted out of the atmosphere. The job had been a success after all. Still, he could not help the feeling that the real prize was out of reach.
"I appreciate the gift, Boba," Fett remembered Seumas saying. "But it really wasn't necessary."
The bounty hunter sighed.
"A long night, wasn't it sir?" Slave I asked.
Fett nodded.
"Longer than I expected," he said as he plotted the jump to the next bounty. "Let's get out of here."
Slave I roared and the stars stretched to infinity as Boba Fett hurled himself back into hyperspace.