Jay cast cautious glances along the dark street, wary of any followers. After their run-in with the sniper, she felt very paranoid moving along these deserted back alleys. There could be mercenaries around every corner or snipers on every rooftop. She doubted their captive was the only person sent to kill them.
Vhetin was just ahead of her, keeping his rifle muzzle firmly planted in the sniper's back. The man limped along on a hastily-set leg and was using a piece of wooden plan (ripped from the boarded-up window of an abandoned shop) as a makeshift plank.
So far it had been metaphorically smooth sailing since they'd captured him. No more surprise attacks and no more would-be assassins. Even the local Jawas were finally giving them a wide berth, as if the little creatures could sense that trouble was brewing.
They weren't far from militia headquarters now. Jay had seen more orange jumpsuits adorning men and women on the streets. All who sported those colors carried blasters and definitely looked like they knew how to use them. On a backwater like Tatooine, just barely kept under Imperial rule, it was obviously a tough job keeping the streets peaceful.
And that was why they were currently slinking through side-streets and empty back alleys, trying desperately to avoid any local law enforcement until they reached the headquarters and were able to explain why they had one of the militia troopers bound and wounded as their captive. Assassin or no, the troopers would probably see the orange coloration first and take the situation the exact wrong way.
"So let me get this straight," Jay murmured, keeping an eye on the area behind them. She was speaking to their prisoner. "You're one of Massano's militia troopers, probably hailed as a hero throughout Anchorhead for protecting civilians and eliminating gang violence in the city. But to you that's apparently not good enough? You go to Kassh - sacrificing your reputation as a public defender - for credits?"
"It's the nature of sentient beings," Vhetin said darkly, shoving the man forward. Their captive groaned as he limped along on his uninjured leg. His other leg had been hastily set with medical supplies Vhetin had "liberated" from a nearby clinic. It was holding for the moment, though the pain made him less than talkative.
The Mandalorian triple-checked his rifle's ammo counter and elaborated, "This shebs'kov's behavior is far from surprising. All beings who achieve fame or power want more."
"Only a Sith deals in absolutes," Jay pointed out with a hint of a smile.
Her partner didn't laugh. "I challenge you to find a single exception in galactic history."
"The Jedi," she replied quickly. It was obvious answer; the half-mythical knights had been selfless heroes, valiantly defending the Old Republic from any who wished to harm it. They had been heroes in every sense of the word. Even as a young child, she had refused to believe the government's explanation that the Order had been treacherous double agents, plotting to overthrow the Republic and take control for themselves. It was ridiculous! Jedi just didn't do that.
The Jedi had been killed off when she was still just a girl, of course. But she did remember all the major players of the Clones Wars: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Yoda, Mace Windu, and — her personal favorite — Aayla Secura. The Jedi had been superstars among Republic citizens, and she still remembered the public outcry and mourning when news had broken that they were all dead. But Secura was her favorite for more than just her public acclaim. She was, in fact, the only Jedi Knight Jay had ever met face to face.
She'd only been a child, maybe four or five. Maybe six. It had been shortly after the Battle of Geonosis, when the Clone Wars first broke out. Several Jedi were assigned to Corellia when the Separatists made threats of invasion. Nothing came of it in the end and Corellia was spared from any major fighting. But the Jedi spent their time on the planet traveling from pole to pole, helping the displaced and the needy. They spent most of their time around the larger population centers like Coronet City, Corellia's capital.
But one of those trips had carried General Secura right to the outskirts of Terimanna, the small town Jay had called home. Everyone poured out of their homes to welcome the Twi'lek warrior, who had already distinguished herself in battle on several occasions.
Jay, of course, wanted to go too. But her father, a staunchly anti-alien traditionalist, had refused her requests, saying that good folk didn't cavort with "tentacle-heads." Yet somehow she had convinced him to take her to the greeting ceremony and she had been part of the crowd waiting anxiously for the fabled Jedi Knight to disembark from her transport and greet them. Jedi were a rare sight in the countryside, even on a Core World like Corellia.
Jay didn't remember much from that day; the fog of time had long ago descended and clouded her memories of the meeting. But she did remember thinking Secura, with her toned, muscled body and elegant leather-bound lekku, was one of the most beautiful beings she had ever laid eyes on. She remembered seeing the lightsaber clipped to the General's belt and wishing with all her little heart that she could be a heroic Jedi too. And she remembered breaking through the crowd to give the warrior a hug, thanking her for her service as her mother taught her to do with all veterans of the Wars.
She remembered most of all the power she had felt radiating off of the woman. It was formless and elusive, yet so overwhelming that it almost made her fall to her knees. It came off the Twi'lek in waves, like great pulsing gusts of warm summer wind. Jay had never felt anything like it before that day and had never even come close to feeling its equal since.
The Force, as they used to say, was very strong with General Secura.
The Knight had smiled at the little girl hugging her and patted her hair, thanking her for her kind words before gently returning her to her scowling father and moving on. She was, after all, a busy woman who had far more important deeds to do than hug children. She moved on into the crowd — accompanied by her scowling clone attendant, Bly — and disappeared from sight.
Jay never forgot her meeting with the Twi'lek Knight. And though the rest of that exciting day had grown hazy over the years, she never forgot the feeling of that power that so effortlessly rose from her. It was pure joy, pure goodness and kindness distilled into a rolling wave of energy that had enveloped those around her and set their nerves tingling.
The next time Jay had seen Aayla Secura was years later on a HoloNet news bulletin proclaiming the Jedi to be traitors to the Republic. Secura was one of the many Knights killed by their own clone troopers during what was later called, "Operation Knightfall," and, "The Great Purge." After that, Jedi became a thing of the past and little more was spoken of them. They were gone, taking with them all the mysteries of that power Jay had only barely glimpsed…
She blinked, shaken from her reverie by a speeder that roared past with an echoing whoop of repulsor engines. Their group came to a halt as they waited to cross the street and enter into another deserted side alley.
"The Jedi," she said again. "They used their power for good. They weren't corrupted by it."
"Somehow I knew you'd use them as an example." Her partner shook his head with a terse grunt. "And you're wrong; the only reason the Jedi didn't try to achieve more - whether they knew it or not - was because they already had it all."
She blinked. "Come again?"
"For a group of selfless defenders of justice, sworn to own little and love nothing, they actually possessed quite a bit." He shrugged. "They had a huge, opulent temple, taller than any other building on Coruscant, as their personal home. They were the only ones allowed — by their own galaxy-wide law — to wield the most deadly melee weapons the galaxy has ever seen. And they had unrestricted access to virtually any resource their little hearts desired, so long as they claimed they were using it for good."
"But…" Jay frowned, grasping for some words to prove him wrong. When they fell from her lips, they were far from convincing. "The Temple wasn't that fancy…"
He scoffed. "I've been there you know. It may not be as pretty these days, what with all the crumbling halls and Jedi skeletons, but it's still quite the sight. I've seen Hutt palaces that were humbler. For te Manda's sake, the Masters' quarters were bigger than my entire ship."
He shoved their hostage ahead of him as he continued. "And that's just where they lived. They also had an unlimited budget allowance from the Republic, they were de facto placed in command of virtually the entire war effort despite the fact that they were woefully inexperienced military tacticians, they were allowed to commandeer any vehicle, building, or starship they felt like, and-"
"But," Jay pointed out, "they only used their power in times of need. When people were in danger."
"True," Vhetin admitted. "But just because you use your assets to help people doesn't necessarily mean you deserve those powers. Corruption can rear its head anywhere. And the more privileged the individual, the more likely they'll misuse those privileges."
"But they used their powers for good." Jay pressed. "Are you seriously suggesting the Jedi weren't even a little altruistic?"
"But that introduces another problem," he countered. "Whose good? They certainly didn't fight for the same good as the Confederacy. And the CIS made up almost half the galaxy. That's billions of people the Jedi didn't deem good enough to defend."
"I…" Jay grasped for a counter argument and found none. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. "I guess I never thought of it like that."
He sighed and shook his head. "I'm not trying to put down the Jedi. They did do good. But their motives were suspicious to a simple merc like me. And Mandos have never really gotten along well with their kind."
"So you'd prefer the motives of the bad guys? The Confederacy, perhaps?"
He shook his head. "No. I know lots of Mandalorians fought for the Separatists, but I personally don't think they were any better. All I'm arguing is that there were good guys and bad guys on both sides — even among the Jedi.
"Despite what the Bathrobe Brigade would tell you," he continued, "the world isn't black and white. Or blue and red if you want to see it that way. Evil and good are forever intertwined, and only a dangerously foolish, and narrow-minded person separates that mess into a strict dichotomy of light and dark. Mandalorians — and by extension, bounty hunters — recognize that the galaxy is far more complex than that."
He shrugged. "It's one of the many reasons the Jedi never really liked us."
"And how do you know so much about Jedi?" Jay asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow and shooting him a small smirk. "Have you ever met one personally?"
"Maybe."
She was about to ask what he meant by that. But he continued before she could remark further on the matter.
"Look," he said, "the Jedi are just an example, and a pretty controversial one at that. All I'm saying is that no one is impervious to greed and selfishness. And the larger the money or fame or what have you, the worse it gets."
"'Power corrupts," Jay said, quoting an old Corellian saying, "'and absolute power corrupts absolutely.'"
He nodded. "Exactly. And with that in mind, it's no wonder our militia friend here decided to torch his ideals in favor of a bigger paycheck."
"Kriff the both of you," the sniper suddenly muttered, speaking up for the first time since they had set his broken leg. "You can toss around all the fancy philosophy you want, but I didn't leave because I was greedy. Massano's a pain in the ass, plain and simple. Wanted to get away from him and his damn idealistic crusade."
"Watch your mouth," Vhetin growled, jabbing the man in the back with his blaster. "I was one of the ones who convinced him to take the job as militia leader. Without him, this cesspit would be crawling with Jabba the Hutt's thugs. You should be thankful."
"Thankful for what? The man drives the militia like we're a bunch of slaves. Like we're just pawns to be moved about and expended as Massano sees fit. He's no leader. He's a tyrant."
"He's earned the loyalty of his entire gang," Jay said. "Fanatical loyalty from what I hear. So if you're different, maybe you just couldn't make the cut."
Their prisoner sniffed in irritation, but said no more.
They walked for a long time in silence. She kept glancing over her shoulder as they continued deeper and deeper into the city, unable to shake the feeling they were still being watched. Yet all she saw was the usual cosmopolitan crowd of Anchorhead; Jawas, traders, moisture farmers, and the occasional lonely stormtrooper patrol. She told herself not to be so paranoid, but couldn't repress a shiver of discontent snake down her spine.
"How much farther?" she asked after fifteen minutes of silence.
Vhetin seemed to consult his helmet's HUD. "We're close. Five minutes and we'll enter militia territory."
"And then what?"
"You'll probably be fine," Vhetin said, "because the militia isn't much for attacking strangers unless attacked first."
"I'm guessing you won't be so lucky?"
Vhetin fidgeted and flexed his grip on his rifle, looking anxious even in his full body armor. He obviously wasn't looking forward to the reunion with his former compatriots here. After all she'd heard, she doubted that he could call the militia his friends any longer.
"And you're sure there's no other way to do this?"
"I'm sure. We need backup to take Kassh's base and Massano's the only ally we're going to find in Anchorhead. It just might take a little... persuasion."
"How did you and Brianna end up forming this militia anyway? You're a bounty hunter, not a revolutionary."
"It's… a long story."
"I doubt our gun-happy captive isn't going anywhere," Jay said, gesturing to their prisoner. "We've got time."
He hesitated, then sighed and relented. He hefted his rifle to a more comfortable position over his shoulder.
"Five years ago, Bri and I were hunting a bounty together here in Anchorhead. The target was an Ithorian big-game hunter who had a penchant for taking down really big animals and getting quite a few people killed in the process. He came to the city hoping to claim the head of a krayt dragon and got a sponsorship from Jabba the Hutt.
"Bri and I hunted him for a few days, but didn't get far. The corruption in the city was everywhere. The entire area was under Jabba's control, and every lead we had turned into a dead end; no one wanted to talk for fear of angering the Hutt and his people. So Brianna decided to do something about it."
He stared straight ahead of him, lost in the memory as he continued the tale. "She set up an audition stand, posing as a big-game hunter herself who was looking for hired help to get to the krayt dragon first. Meanwhile, we planted rumors that it was actually a cover for a city liberation force. Those who were sick of the corruption came to Bri and me to help out. Together, we hunted down Jabba's larger contacts and businesses in the city - discreetly of course - and drove them out. Without them, the big-game hunter was a piece of cake.
"After we finally captured the Ithorian, we knew that the city would fall back into its old ways as soon as we left. So we chose the bravest, most respected member of our volunteers and gave him the job as militia leader. His name was Quoren Massano."
He gestured to the city around him. "We spent months cleaning up the city, and the militia only continued our work after we left. Bri and I actually lived here for a while. But after we caught the Ithorian, we were... forced to leave."
Jay knew that that wasn't the whole truth; the pause at the end had been a half-second too long to successfully mask her partner's insincerity. But she had long since abandoned hope of him telling her the whole truth about his past, on Tatooine or at large. If he didn't trust her enough yet, that was his problem.
"So then you came later back to Anchorhead," she said slowly, "blew up their base, and shot Massano?"
"With a stun round." Her partner squirmed. "Details are important."
"But why?"
He was silent for a long time, obviously contemplating an answer. When he spoke, his voice was calm, level, and harshly controlled. It was a measured response, one where every word was carefully chosen for its neutrality.
"I had orders. And he was standing in the way of the completion of those orders."
"So you just shot him?"
"With a stun round," he repeated. "It was only because of me that my old partner didn't kill him. In a way, he owes his life to me for that. Not that he'd ever see it that way."
Jay was about to inquire more when the sniper finally spoke, drawing them both from the awkward conversation. He nodded ahead of them, to a simple stone building ahead of them marked with a bright neon sign: The Dusty Dewback.
"That's the new militia headquarters," their captive said. "Massano set up there after the last time you came through, bucket-head."
Jay wasn't overly excited to trust the word of a man who'd tried to kill her, so she turned to her partner for confirmation. Vhetin was swatting the sniper across the back of the head, no doubt because of his use of the derogatory slur bucket-head.
"Is this where Brianna's coordinates lead?"
"That's what my HUD says. It's worth checking out either way."
As they stepped closer, Vhetin tensed and his fingers tightened over the grip of his rifle. He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. "Remember what I said earlier."
She nodded and rested a hand on the butt of her holstered pistol. It was a casual motion, but no one could mistake its true intention. She could draw the pistol within the blink of an eye — she'd been practicing daily.
"Don't expect a warm welcome," she said. "Got it. And if we're attacked?"
"Simple. Get out of there as fast as you can."
"But-"
"If they're going to attack me, they're going to attack in force. They know what I'm capable of and they won't be taking any chances. You're good with a blaster, Jay, but you won't be able to fend them all off."
"And what are you going to do? Just attack them again?"
He didn't say anything, but she noticed the way his finger was hovering over his rifle's firing stud. That said more than enough. She let out a long sigh and shook her head. "Whatever. I'm not making any promises."
"That'll have to be good enough, I guess."
Together, the three approached the main door of the cantina. They didn't make it far before a hulking, dark-skinned bouncer with intricate-looking tattoos across his face stepped up to meet them. He was covered in dirt and sand blown in from the street and was sporting heavy protective goggles across his face.
"Halt," the man said, holding up a hand. "No weapons are allowed inside the-"
He broke off as he saw exactly who he was speaking to. He narrowed his dark eyes behind the thick goggles. "Oh. It's you."
Vhetin inclined his helmeted head. "Varitalis. I wish I could say it was nice to see you again. But-"
The huge man interrupted. "I wouldn't give a damn anyway. Turn around and leave before someone shoots you."
"I need to speak with Massano."
The bouncer, Varitalis, let out a booming bark of laughter. "Yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you? Last warning. Get out of here before I decide not to be so kind."
Vhetin stood his ground. "It's urgent."
The big man reached for his blaster with a seemingly reluctant sigh. "You asked for-"
"There's a gang infiltrating Anchorhead. Midnight Ultraviolet, they're called. I'm here to stop them."
That stopped him; the huge man froze, staring at Vhetin's expressionless faceplate as if he could see the Mandalorian's face through the tinted T-visor. The eyes behind his goggles narrowed into dangerous slits. His muscles tensed.
"You're lying."
"I'm a Mandalorian," Vhetin said, holding the huge man's gaze. "Lies are forbidden to my kind."
The huge bouncer didn't move, his hand still resting on the butt of his blaster. Jay couldn't blame his hesitation. If she was in his place - and given all she'd learned about Vhetin's last trip to Anchorhead - she wouldn't believe a word he said either. Her own hand tightened around the grip of her pistol. If it came to a fight, could she take the big guy out before he hurt her partner?
But after a time, the huge man grunted and gestured to the sniper. "What are you doing with the Kid? Ransoming him?"
"He tried to kill us."
"Good for him."
Vhetin sighed and patiently explained, "I ran his face through an I.D scanner. He's involved with the Midnight Ultraviolet branch here in Anchorhead. He confessed to us himself after a little... persuasion."
That was an exaggeration. All they'd had to do was threaten to leave the sniper to die in the alley and he'd started to spill his guts. Jay had to stop herself from snorting at her partner's embellishment.
"That's... That's not true!" the sniper said, speaking for the first time. "I didn't say anything!"
"I went to Kassh a couple months ago," came the sniper's disembodied voice, hissing with static as the sound spilled from a recorder held in Vhetin's hand. "He said... he said he wanted a mole inside the militia and that he'd pay if I passed him information on any upcoming Militia raids on him or any of his competitors. A-a few months after that, he ordered me to start sabotaging equipment. And after that-"
"Let me through to Massano and I'll shut it down," Vhetin said, shaking the recorder. "This goes on for a while."
"It's enough." The bouncer held up a massive hand, scowling deeply at the sniper. The camo-clad man fidgeted under Varitalis' furious glare, scuffing his feet in the sand and avoiding that goggled gaze.
The doorman eventually jerked his head and gestured over his shoulder. "Go on. I can't promise what Massano will do to you, but he'll want to know about the Kid."
"I appreciate it."
"Kriff off."
Vhetin, Jay, and their hostage moved inside on Varitalis' orders without further exchange. Jay was glad to be free from the big man's scrutiny and let her grip on her blaster slowly relax. But she still didn't move her hand: not when Vhetin disappeared inside, not when she passed by Varitalis, and not when she ducked through the door into the mud-brick building.
The main room of the cantina was large, remarkably plush for downtown Anchorhead, and lit with rotating pinkish-red lights. There were tables set up all across the room, occupied predominantly by locals. There were mostly dirty-looking humans and Twi'leks, with the occasional spacer enjoying their lunch break. As far as Jay could tell, there was nothing to show that the bar was a front for any organization, let alone the local militia.
Varitalis shoved past them and disappeared through a dark red door behind the bar without a word. After a moment, two gray-armored Twi'leks left the room beyond and flanked the door, their hands on their blasters. They glared at Vhetin with barely-concealed vitriol.
"So..." Jay said, glancing between the two guards. "That went well."
"Keep your eyes open," Vhetin said, scanning the cantina with a slight turn of his head. He fell into a seemingly casual stance, his hands folded over the stock of his rifle the barrel pointed toward the ground. Jay knew that like her pistol, that rifle could snap up in the span of time between heartbeats. "If Massano's in a combative mood, I don't want you getting in the middle of it."
"I can take care of myself," she insisted with an irritated scowl. "If Massano's all you say he is, you've got more to worry about than my safety."
"I'm not the one who was almost sniped by a militiaman on Kassh's payroll, and who almost took a turbolaser blast to the chest before that. I can't help but think that your good luck is running out on this hunt."
She patted her blaster. "That's why I carry this. It's not just for show, you know."
He snorted softly, then fell silent and returned to his silent perusal of the cantina. They had only waited a few minutes when the dark-skinned bouncer reappeared from behind the red door.
"Massano will see you," Varitalis grunted. "Just don't try anything funny."
Vhetin nodded and gestured for Jay to bring the prisoner. She followed her partner, yanking hard on the stun cuffs that bound the sniper's wrists. He yelped in pain and walked faster.
Through the dark red door lay a considerably dirtier hallway. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of the rough mud brick and stone, occasionally reinforced by pillars and plates of durasteel or plastoid. Varitalis didn't lead them far before he rounded on them, hooking his thumbs through the loops of his belt.
"Drop your weapons here," the bouncer said. "Both of you."
He gestured to a table set up outside another door, this one colored dark blue. There were already a few weapons lying there.
So much for that plan, Jay thought with a roll of her eyes. I guess I'll have to rely on old-fashioned fists once we're inside.
She watched as her partner stepped forward first and immediately began unloading his weapons. As he stripped away more and more of his defenses, she found herself thinking, Kriff I hope this all stays peaceful.
His lightsaber pike came first, followed by his pistols, his twin lightsaber hilts, the two beskar knives sheathed across the back of his belt, the extra blade down his right boot, his rocket-equipped jetpack, flamethrower, kneepad dart launchers, whipcord thrower, the thermal detonator hidden in his belt-pouches, and the rest of the various tools that Jay counted at fifteen before she lost interest.
She herself carried only her pistol and a small but effective vibroblade sheathed down her boot. She handed the weapons over more willingly than at Bloody Dawn headquarters - the last time she'd been asked to walk defenseless into unknown territory. She was certain, however, that Massano wasn't a ruthless, bloodthirsty crime lord like Sekha. Whatever past he had with Vhetin, he had been put in charge of the militia for a good reason. Vhetin had trusted him once, and that was enough for her to trust him now — at least a little.
Vhetin saw promise in me, right? she thought as Varitalis gestured for them to enter through the blue door. He's got a good eye for people. This Massano guy can't be that bad.
She was wrong. As soon as her partner stepped into the room beyond, there was a sharp clang and a shout of rage. Vhetin staggered out of sight, holding his head.
Jay's heart leapt into her throat and she instinctively reached for her now-absent pistol. Grasping only air, she hurried into the room to see a tall, muscular man stepping toward Vhetin with a large durasteel pipe clutched in his hand.
She took a step forward, but stopped as Vhetin murmured, "Massano, I-"
The muscular man with the pipe hit him across the faceplate again hard enough to snap Vhetin's head to the side. The Mandalorian sprawled to the ground, holding his head with a groan.
"You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment," the tall man growled, a grin stretching across his chiseled features. "Get up."
"You don't want to do this—"
"Get up, you worthless piece of-" He grabbed Vhetin by the throat and hauled him to his feet again.
No sooner had he pulled Vhetin to face-level than the bounty hunter suddenly sprang into motion. He ripped himself from Massano's grasp, ducked the inevitable swing at his head, and grasped the hand the held the metal pipe. He brought the arm down on his knee, twisting it until Massano cried out in pain and dropped the weapon. The Mandalorian followed up with a blow to the gut, then an uppercut under the chin that sent Massano sprawling against the back wall. The man's eyes rolled back into his head as he slowly slid down to the ground.
Two of the gray-clad guards rushed to help the militiaman. Vhetin turned to them and held up a hand in surrender. "Wait, guys, I-"
It was too late. They drew vibroblades and jumped at him. He ducked the first swipe, but he was still disoriented from the pipe blows to the head. He wobbled slightly, off balance and slowed by his wounds. One of his feet slipped on the sand floor, which had already been violently churned up by the scuffling of multiple pairs of feet. The next moment, one of the hand-length vibroblades was buried to the hilt in his shoulder.
He cried out in pain and clutched the wound and Jay quickly decided she was done staying out of the fight. She jumped forward to her friend's aid and wrapped her forearms around the closest trooper's neck. The Twi'lek man sputtered and drove an elbow into her ribs hard enough to make her gasp in pain. She remained, clinging to him with all the stubborn tenacity of an angry Kowakian monkey lizard. She drove her knee hard into the small of his back and wrenched him to one side, sending them both staggering into the wall.
Across the room, Vhetin was batting away weapons from two combatants simultaneously. He had no weapons of his own, but his combat armor served him well enough; he raised an arm and parried a vibroblade aimed at his throat, the weapon clanging off the impenetrable beskar barrier with force. He drew back and struck forward with fists and feet, though his opportunities for offensive retaliation were woefully limited. The bounty hunters were outnumbered and outgunned and everyone currently fighting knew it.
With a grunt of effort, Jay's captive wriggled in her grip, broke free of her hold, and backhanded her across the face. She staggered back and lost her balance, hitting her head against a rickety wooden chair. Stars burst through her vision and her stomach lurched dangerously with a strange sense of dizziness as she groaned in pain. Her attacker turned back to Vhetin, still managing to fend off the other trooper with his single good arm.
But Jay wasn't out of the fight yet. She scrambled back to her feet, grasped the chair that had so unceremoniously halted her fall, and raised it over her throbbing head. Before the trooper could jump back into the fray, she brought it down through the air with all her might. There was a concussive jolt in her forearms as it connected with a surprisingly loud crack and splintered into pieces over the alien man's skull. The Twi'lek trooper's head lolled and he collapsed forward into a heap on the sandy floor.
She wasted no time scooping up one of the broken chair pieces — one in each hand, held like daggers — and moved to help her partner. He was slowly being overwhelmed by his opponents, the weight of wounds and exhaustion slowing his movemens and dulling his reaction time. He took a jab to the shoulder from an incoming vibroblade, then a knee to the gut and a fist to the ribs. She had to intervene, had to get them both out of here before—
She made it two steps before a powerful voice boomed, "Stop!"
Everyone in the room - bounty hunters included - stopped and turned to face the speaker.
Massano towered over them all, shaking his long hair out of his eyes and spitting out a mouthful of blood. He rubbed at his jaw, where a fresh bruise was forming from Vhetin's uppercut. And with a sigh, he gestured to the remaining troopers, still clustered around Vhetin.
"That's enough. Stand down."
The troopers glared at Vhetin, but obediently followed orders and stepped away. Vhetin rose to his feet with a groan, then reached up to the vibroblade still protruding from his shoulder and yanked it out with a wrench. He examined the bloody green blade for a moment before tossing it to the floor at Massano's feet. It thudded dully into the sand, stained deep crimson with the Mandalorian's blood.
"I'd be lying if I said that wasn't the reception I expected," Vhetin said, his voice trembling with suppressed rage and pain. "But I didn't come here to fight with you, Massano."
"Well you sure as hell finished it." The militia leader chuckled darkly and spat out another mouthful of blood. "I'd hate to see you actively trying to start a brawl."
He shook his head again and glanced to Jay. "You can drop the pieces of chair, miss. You won't find any more fighting here."
"And I'm supposed to believe that's it?" She narrowed her eyes, not trusting the newfound peace. "One backroom brawl and everything is forgiven?"
"Not in the least." A bit of steel came into Massano's voice now. "But I think I got my point across that our monochromatic mutual friend here isn't welcome. But you two obviously haven't come to reminisce about the good ol' days, and old grudges aren't worth dying over."
He rubbed at his bruised jaw again. "I'd say you've earned a few minutes peace after a brawl like that. I'll hear you out, figure out why you're here at least. Then we'll go from there."
"Jay." Vhetin spoke up now. "Stand down. We're good, at least for now."
She sighed and tossed the splintered pieces of chair into the sand as well. "If you say so."
"Wise choice," Massano said. Now that the room was relatively still, Jay was finally able to get a good look at the militia leader. In all the scuffle, she'd barely gotten half a glimpse at the man she'd heard so much about.
First appearances revealed much about him. A human male in his thirties, well-built for his age and environment and obviously no stranger to the rougher side of life. He was handsome enough to warrant more than a passing glance: dark eyes, a square jaw, and a long scar over his right temple that marred his otherwise flawless chiseled features, all framed by long raven-black locks of hair. He honestly looked more like a holovid action star or the hero from some old romance drama so popular on Coruscant these days.
But she doubted holovid action stars or dramatists carried a full belt of grenades strapped across their chest, or a heavy-duty battle rifle slung across their back. They weren't caked in a thick layer of sand, dust, and dirt from a lifetime of living among endless sand dunes and shifting seas of scorched earth. And they definitely didn't sport that very distinct series of pale yellow stripes that stretched up Massano's left leg.
Jay had to keep herself from whistling in admiration. Instead, she settled for a raised eyebrow and a thought of, Now that's something you don't see every day.
The mark was a second-class Corellian Bloodstripe, awarded only for acts of extreme daring and valor among the Corellian military. It was one of the greatest honors bestowed on her homeworld, reserved for only the greatest acts of heroism. Jay hadn't seen many awarded in her time, so it was either fake – which was a serious offense – or Massano was truly a force to be reckoned with. She was willing to bet on the latter and grudgingly began to feel a small flush of admiration for the man, despite the fact that he had almost brained her partner with a durasteel pipe only moments before.
Vhetin, meanwhile, was shaking his head and slapping the side of his helmet. Blood was running freely down his arm and staining the sand at his feet, though he seemed to be ignoring his wounds for the time being. He looked disoriented and exhausted, his armor dirty, bloody, and scuffed by jabs and from the guards' vibroblades, but he was somehow still standing even after the beating he'd received.
"My ears are still ringing," he muttered with a quiet curse. "Of all the weapons you're certified with, Massano, you had to use a metal pipe to drive your point home?"
Massano shook hair out of his face and folded his muscular arms. "It got the point across, didn't it?"
The Mandalorian cursed. "I'll say. You cracked me so hard half my HUD widgets shifted to the other side of the screen."
Massano pointedly did not apologize. "So where do we go from here? Pipe or no, I'd hardly call us even."
"I'm not expecting you to."
"Good." The militiaman settled himself into a nearby chair and threw one leg over his knee. "I'll at least listen to why you're here. Then I'll decide whether or not to have you shot. You've earned that much."
Vhetin sighed, still holding his helmeted head. "Fair enough. Your bouncer can fill you in on the basics. I still need to get my bearings after that knock. The world is still spinning."
Varitalis stepped forward now to report while the Mandalorian leaned against the wall with his head bowed, recovering from his wounds as best he could. Jay was instantly at his shoulder to provide whatever assistance she could, though he gently declined any help.
"Apparently," the bouncer said, "Vhetin and his partner apprehended a crime lord's operative sent to kill them."
Sent to kill me, Jay mentally corrected him. He wasn't shooting at Vhetin for some reason.
"So?" Massano said, folding his arms across his large chest and leaning back. "That's not our problem."
"It's the Kid."
He blinked, uncomprehending. "What?"
"It's one of your militia troopers," Vhetin said. He gingerly took a seat in another nearby chair. Jay was forced to stand; she had broken the only other chair in the room. "And he works for a crime lord named Kassh. A crime lord my partner and I have been hired to bring in."
"That... that's not possible. The Kid? No way."
"My contacts tell me that Kassh set up a base somewhere near Anchorhead a few months ago," Vhetin said quietly. "Ever since then, he's slowly been corrupting the city again, right under your nose. He needed another outlet for his syndicate, especially once he was put under pressure to leave Coruscant. Apparently he had an eye for old stomping grounds; he used to work for Jabba the Hutt."
"That may be," Massano said, "but if he was trying to get his slimy fingers into the city, I'd have heard of it by now!"
"If you don't believe us," Jay added, "listen to him."
She jerked her head at the sniper, who had been standing quietly in the corner guarded by the two large Twi'lek sentries. Now, thrown into the spotlight once more, he cringed and tried to shrink back into the shadow of his guards. They offered him no such courtesy, shoving him forward a few steps until he stood alone more or less in the center of the room.
Massano stared at the Kid for a long, pointed moment before demanding, "Well? Is it true?"
"I-I-"
"Is it true?"
"Yes!" the sniper cried, breaking with barely any pressure. "Yes, yes it is!"
Fire bloomed in Massano's dark eyes. His hands clenched into fist in his lap and his jaw squeezed so tightly that Jay could hear his teeth grinding together. She didn't think she'd ever seen someone more furious in her entire life.
If looks could kill, she thought, everyone in this room would be dead right now.
The militia leader stood and stepped forward until he towered over the sniper. The spiky-haired man cowered in Massano's presence, trying his best to hide again into the shadow of the two Twi'leks that flanked him. Again he was forced out from cover to stand before the wrathful giant of a man looming over him.
"Why?" Massano demanded.
"I... I needed the credits! I mean, it's really great bein' hero of the city and all, but it doesn't exactly pay well and-"
Massano cut him off with a powerful backhand slap across the face. The Kid cried out in pain and fell silent. The motion was meant to humiliate rather than hurt, and the sniper soon returned to his guards with a face glowing red from more than just the slap.
Massano paced back and forth through the room for a few moments, his face was still pulled down in a furious scowl. Jay didn't even want to imagine what was running through his head right now; if the look in his eyes was any indication, his thoughts were as black as night. He gathered those thoughts for a moment before turning back to the sniper, who was whimpering quietly.
"What did you want with these two?" He gestured to Vhetin and Jay.
The sniper glanced between the bounty hunters and said, "K-Kassh gave me a call a few days ago. Said that there were people after him, and that they might be comin' to Anchorhead. He gave me orders to kill on sight. He contacted me personally, man; he never does that! I figured there'd be some serious digits on the paycheck involved, so I-"
"So you decided to slot us the first chance you got," Vhetin finished. He shook his head. "I expected Kassh to send his lackeys to do his dirty work, but this is just insulting."
"N-no," the sniper stuttered. "I wasn't supposed to kill you."
"Who then?" Massano growled.
The sniper stared up at him in terror, then hesitantly nodded to Jay. "Just her."
There was silence in the tiny, stuffy room. All eyes were suddenly on Jay; even Vhetin was staring at her in confusion. The nape of her neck prickled uncomfortably at the revelation and she frowned in confusion that was mirrored on everyone's faces — except Vhetin's, of course.
"What do you mean just me?" she demanded.
"M-my orders were to leave the Mandalorian alive. B-but the woman w-who traveled with him... Kassh ordered me to kill her."
Everyone turned back to the sniper, listening intently. Only Vhetin and Massano continued to stare at her for a moment before turning their gazes slowly back to the sniper.
"Why?" Jay pressed.
"H-he said you were the weak link," the sniper whimpered. "That if you were taken down, the Mandalorian would be easier to get to. Easier to manipulate. That's why he had to stay alive. He's no good to Kassh dead, after all."
"What, so I was supposed to be some kind of message?" she said heatedly, her voice rising with every word. "Some dejarik piece taken out of the game so it would be easier for Kassh to win?"
The sniper gulped and nodded, to which Jay scoffed and turned away with a terse shake of her head. It was ridiculous! She wasn't some damsel to be targeted or protected by her betters. She could hold her own in any fight Vhetin could and had, in fact, already survived situations in her first outing as a huntress that would spell doom for most others! If Kassh wanted to take her down, he'd have to do better than this.
But her indignation was cut short as Massano spoke again. The tall man gestured darkly to the captive militia sniper and growled, "Anything more?"
"T-that's it, I swear!" the Kid whimpered. "I mean, apart from giving him information on the occasional raid, I swear I didn't do anything else!"
Massano glared at the trooper, then sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Kid," he said slowly, quietly, "I don't care how much you did or didn't do. You stabbed us all in the back. You betrayed us all. Far as I'm concerned, you're no better than the thugs we try to drive out of this city. We don't need scum like you."
The Kid's eyes slowly widened in fear, obviously thinking Massano was going to blast him right there and be done with it. Jay almost wished the tall man would do just that; it was just what the cowardly milita sellout deserved. Besides, it would send Kassh a clear message that the hunters coming after him were not a matter to be taken lightly. But Massano had something else in mind.
He gestured to the open door. "Get out."
The Kid didn't move, as if convinced it was a trap. "W-what?"
"Get out now," he repeated, "and don't come back. Ever."
"But..." the sniper licked his lips nervously, "w-where am I going to go?"
"I don't give a kriff." Massano's voice was cold and harsh. "I'm giving you five hours. If you can get out of the city before then you're a free man. If not, you'll spend a life sentence on Oovo IV for aiding and abetting an organized criminal syndicate."
The sniper's eyes widened with terror as Massano glanced at a chrono along one wall. "Time starts... now. Get moving."
The Kid stared at him for a split-second, still sporting a look of total disbelief. But then reality seemed to take control and he turned and disappeared through the door, hands still bound by active stun cuffs. The sound of his retreating footsteps echoed down the hall, until the door leading out into the cantina slammed shut and he was, once and for all, gone.
Vhetin stared at the door for a long, thoughtful moment. After the door crashed shut he glanced to Massano and said, "You sure that was a good idea? He could go running right back to Kassh. We don't need our target getting any more intel on us."
Massano ignored him. He nodded to the two gray-armored Twi'lek guards and said, "Follow our young friend. Make sure he gets out of the city. If he tries to lay low and hide, persuade him otherwise. Lethal force is authorized if you deem it necessary."
The two aliens saluted and left the room without a word. Massano watched them go, then turned to the hunters.
"You two," he said, beckoning to them to follow, "follow me. You've bought yourself five minutes. If you're still pestering me after that, I shoot you where you stand."
After retrieving their weapons, Massano led them back out into the cantina and motioned for them to take a seat at the bar. He told the bartender, a chubby human male, to give him a mug of Corellian ale. As the tender set the drink in front of him, Massano rubbed his forehead and turned to Vhetin.
"Why in the hell did you come back? I thought you'd done the smart thing and decided never to come near Anchorhead again."
"I need your help," Vhetin said bluntly. "We can't take down Kassh without the militia's support."
Massano glared at him. "So you come here, set up the militia, almost destroy the militia months later, then a couple years after that-"
Vhetin held up a hand — still stained with the blood soaking his shoulder — and interrupted him. "I know how it sounds. If it helps, I do regret what I did here. I was only following my orders."
"Kriff your orders," Massano snarled. "You put fifteen militia troopers in the medcenter and killed three others. I had to break the news to their families. Damn it, Vhetin, what was I supposed to tell them? That their fathers, sons, and husbands were killed by the guy who picked them for the militia in the first place?"
"Don't," Vhetin said forcefully, shaking his head and staring at the bartop. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be."
"What did you tell them?" Jay asked.
The militia leader glanced at her, then shrugged and took a swig of his ale. "I told them the truth. That their loved ones were killed by an Imperial strike team intent on butchering one of our protectees."
"The guy had been responsible for smuggling thousands of kilos of spice," Vhetin said, sounding like he was speaking through clenched teeth. "He ruined more lives by delivering and distributing that osik than I did by taking him down. Don't pretend he was a saint."
Massano snorted. "Tell that to the widows and orphans you made out of the innocent civilians here. He may not have been a saint, but those militia troops you wounded and killed were innocent."
"No one is innocent," Vhetin grunted. "Especially not here."
"Oh kriff you and your semantics," the milita leader snapped. "You murdered those boys with no regard to the consequences. To the people here, you're no better than a stormtrooper."
This time, the Mandalorian didn't disagree.
A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell between them. Vhetin was still staring at the bartop, his hands clenched into fists in front of him. Massano was glaring at the the hunters as if he wanted nothing more than to pick up his pipe again and continue his beating.
Jay couldn't stand the quiet. They had a job to do, and they couldn't let past grudges distract them. So she cleared her throat and said, "I'm sure you two have a laundry list of things to argue about. But we're here to right some of those wrongs. We have information that you need to know about."
"Keep your information," Massano grunted, taking another long draft of ale. "I don't want it from the likes of you. I can handle this gangster fellow on my own."
"You may think so," Vhetin said, still not looking up from the rough, sand-blasted wood under his bloodied gloves, "but you're underestimating how dangerous Kassh is. He wouldn't have such a hefty price on his head if a local militia force could take him down."
Massano glared at him again. "I've never heard of this Kassh."
"He's big in the Coruscant underworld," Vhetin explained. "That's a bit removed from your sector of the galaxy. But he's here now and staking a claim on your turf."
Massano grunted. "What would he want here?"
"An established black market, easy proximity to Jabba the Hutt's base of operations, little to no Imperial presence. What more could a criminal ask for?"
The militiaman grunted again and took a long swig of his ale.
Vhetin continued, unperturbed by the tall man's feigned nonchalance. "This guy is cruel, ruthless, and will let nothing and no one stand in his way. He's not going to stop until every last member of your militia is either dead or driven out, leaving him free to place Anchorhead under his complete control. I know how he operates, and if you don't stop him now you'll be dead within the month."
"Is that a threat?"
"No. But it'll cost lives if you don't listen."
"Like the last time I didn't listen to you?" Massano said. "It wasn't that different back then. 'Cept you had a pretty Imperial Wheel right there-" he pointed to Vhetin's helmet forehead, "-and you had no qualms about shooting innocent men to get what you wanted. Once an Imp, always an Imp, I say."
Vhetin didn't say anything and stared at him for a long time, holding the militia leader's gaze. Even after Massano had looked away, Vhetin still stared at him. Jay inwardly cringed on her partner's behalf; that last remark had obviously hurt.
She sighed and decided to take the reins.
"Look," she said. "We're not the bad guys here. We're just trying to stop this guy before anyone else gets hurt."
Massano let out a dark chuckle. "And my uncle is the Emperor. Sorry, but after the last time your partner roared through here, I find it hard to believe you're here now to do what's best for us."
He turned to face his drink. Their conversation was very clearly finished. "Your five minutes are up. Leave now before I have you both arrested."
"Massano," Jay pressed, "You need to listen to us. We-"
"Don't tell me what I need to do," he suddenly interrupted. His voice was full of steel. "I already spared your lives. I suggest you leave before my patience and forgiveness runs out once and for all."
"But-"
"Let it go, Jay," Vhetin said with a sigh, standing from the table and turning toward the door. "Massano's right. I don't belong here."
"No, I'm not going to let it go," Jay said heatedly. "And neither should you!"
She turned back to Massano, looking at the man with an indignant scowl. After all Vhetin had told her about him - how he was a good, brave, honorable man - the bastard was just going to send them away? She'd busted her ass chasing a Midnight Ultraviolet-financed sniper through Anchorhead, being shot at the whole way, for this?
She placed her hands on the bartop and leaned close to the militiaman. "I'm sure you don't know or care who I am," she said, "but I'm going to tell you anyway. My name is Jay. I was born on Corellia, just like you. And I was betrayed by the people I thought were my friends, just like you. I used to be part of the Empire and was damn proud of it. But they threw me in prison, beat me and interrogated me for months on end for a crime I never committed."
Massano didn't move, but she could tell he was paying close attention.
"I would still be there today," she snapped, turning and gesturing to Vhetin, "if he hadn't have decided to free me. He saved my life. There wasn't any profit in it for him. There wasn't any glory. He just saw someone in need and decided to help."
"Jay-," Vhetin murmured in protest, but she ignored him.
"He didn't know me," she continued. "He didn't know about my past or my loyalties, but he rescued me anyway. An Imperial traitor, rotting away in a cell and he decided to rescue me anyway. It was a completely selfless decision. And he's saved my life more than once since then as well."
She sneered at the black-haired man, who was staring intently into the depths of his mug. "I don't know what he did the last time he was here. But I do know that ever since then he's struggled to make up for the things he did while in the Empire. And now he comes here, offering you information that will save hundreds of your militiamen and you turn him away? How dare you!"
Massano didn't even look at her. He just took another long swig of his drink. If he was moved by her speech, he didn't show it.
"Your five minutes," he said again, "are up. Unless you fancy seeing the inside of a Tatooine prison cell, you'd best leave now."
"Jay," her partner murmured, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We should go."
She shook her arm out of his grip and leaned closer to Massano.
"Listen to me," she hissed. "We're here for a good reason. And if you just sit back on your ass and do nothing, Anchorhead will burn before the year's end. Send us away if you want. But consider yourself warned."
With that she turned and stormed out of the cantina. The cantina door slammed shut behind her, loud enough to make several beings glance up. Vhetin stared at Massano for a moment, then turned and followed her without another word. The militia leader was left to his drink, sitting alone at the bar.
He found his partner leaning up against the cantina wall, staring out at the street. Her face was the perfect image of livid frustration, her arms folded tight over her chest. He sighed as he approached, rubbing at the back of his neck.
"Jay… I appreciate what you did in there," he said quietly. "No one… no one's ever defended me like that before."
She scoffed and shook a loose strand of hair from her eyes. "Fat lot of good it did us. He still didn't listen."
"You can't argue with Massano," Vhetin said. He leaned up against the wall next to her. "He's stubborn as... well, as a Corellian. He's like you in a lot of ways."
"I'm nothing like him," she snapped. "If someone came into my city hoping to kill and profit from it, I'd drive the bastard out, not sit on my ass because of an old feud with someone who's trying to help."
"Everything Massano said in there was true."
"I don't care," she replied. She glanced at him, then stubbornly stared down at her boots. "Everything I said was true, too."
Vhetin smiled beneath his helmet and gestured for her to follow him as he set off down the street. Her loyalty was touching, but there was really nothing they could do. Massano had made up his mind about them. He knew from experience that nothing could be done to change it now.
"We just need to find a different way to bring Kassh down." He jerked his head in the direction of the spaceport and said, "Come on. Let's head back to Void and see if Kalyn or Tarron has any new information for us."
They walked about three blocks in silence. Jay was still fuming, and Vhetin was more than happy to leave the heated conversation behind them. Eventually, though, he felt compelled to say, "I guess the nexu's out of the bag now, though."
She glanced up at him. "About what?"
"About how I used to work for the Empire." He grimaced as he glanced at her. "I'm… sorry I didn't tell you."
"Oh," she said, sounding less surprised than he thought. "That. It's… it's okay, Vhetin. Everyone's allowed to keep secrets. Besides, I've kind of suspected for a while now."
"But you have to admit, it was kind of a whopper. I shouldn't have kept it from you for so long, especially given what happened to you on Corulag."
"I don't hold it against you. We all make stupid mistakes. You're no different."
He was about to say more when a hailing tone sounded from inside his helmet. He triggered his comlink with a blink of his eyes. A transmitter number popped up on his helmet's HUD, and he answered the call with, "Farnmir, nice to finally hear from you. Have you found Kassh's base?"
"Not as of yet," came the bounty huntress' voice. Vhetin let the call filter through his helmet speakers so Jay could be part of the conversation as well. "I found something much better."
"What would that be?" Jay said inquisitively, staring at him.
"Well..." Farnmir paused, "it looks like Kassh has been a busy little boy. He's already got a racketeering operation set up. I'm seeing a business in town, calling itself uh... well, I can't actually read it from here. But the sign's got a big-ass splintered diamond logo, right on the front."
"The Midnight Ultraviolet insignia," Vhetin said, scowling.
"He's barely even trying to hide it," Farnmir said, sounding amused. "Cocky bastard."
"This far from Coruscant, I'd be surprised if anyone knew about his business," Vhetin pointed out. "It's a perfect place to start a new operation, particularly if he's facing fire from the other crime lords."
"Do you think he's there?" Jay asked.
"Mmm, no. But you'll find this interesting: I've been watching this place for an hour or so now, and I've seen at least ten militia troopers going in and out."
"What?" Vhetin asked. "Did you get pictures?"
"Hell yeah," Farnmir answered. "And you're going to love this; one of the pictures shows a militia trooper tucking a nice fat pouch of credits into his jacket."
Jay's eyes widened. "Kassh is paying them off right under Massano's nose. We got him!"
With that, she turned and dashed back toward the cantina. Vhetin started after her, calling, "Wait, Jay-"
She didn't bother waiting for her partner. She stormed back into the cantina, throwing open the door and sprinting over to Massano, who was still sitting at the bar with another drink. He glanced up at her as she approached, surprised to find her back.
"I thought I told you-"
She interrupted him, slapping her hands down on the bartop triumphantly.
"We've got something to show you. You're coming with us."
The four stood on a rooftop a few doors down from Kassh's business. Vhetin was staring at the base with an unwavering masked gaze. Jay was on her belly in a trained sniper position, looking through a pair of macrobinoculars and observing the street below. Kalyn Farnmir was consulting her arm-mounted datapad, scratching at the stubble on her head. And Massano was looking between the holopics he'd been provided and the militia troopers visible on the street below with unbridled fury.
"You can glare all you want," Farnmir murmured, still staring at the hologram thrown up by her datapad. "It's not going to make it go away."
"I told you Kassh was a serious threat," Jay added, still scoping out the business through her binoculars. "He's probably corrupted half of your militia in the few months he's been here."
Massano shook his head and turned away in disgust. "I don't believe it. I don't kriffing believe it."
"It looks like they're posing as a restaurant," Vhetin murmured. His helmet's flag-like rangefinder slid down to provide him with a better scan of the building. His HUD lit up in a dazzling array of colors, throwing up structural schematics, heat signatures, and even a history of the building's owners. "Smart. Lots of people go in and out and no one pays any attention."
"Smart?" Massano snarled. He clenched his fists tightly, a sneer twisting his features. "Smart? Those are my men he's messing with down there. I've bled for those sons of bitches!"
"Calm down," Farnmir said. "Not all your men are on Kassh's payroll."
"But which ones aren't?" Massano cried, throwing his hands up in the air. "I don't know which of my men I can trust now!"
"Who was the Kid?" Vhetin said suddenly.
"What?"
"Who was the Kid?" he repeated. "A new recruit?"
"I— yeah... yeah, we picked him up a couple months ago. He helped us storm a warehouse that belonged to a bunch of gunrunners. He-"
"I don't need to know his life story," Vhetin said, raising a hand to silence him. "So he's not one of the original militia members Brianna and I screened?"
"No. He's not."
Vhetin gestured to the holopics that were clenched in Massano's hand. "And the rest of the militia members in those pictures. Are they all new as well?"
Massano shuffled through the holopics. After a time, he tossed them to the ground. "They're new members, mostly. Recruited within the last few years Where are you going with this?"
The Mandalorian didn't answer. Instead he turned to Farnmir and said, "Do you have the security tap up and running?"
She nodded, holding out her arm to display a flickering holo of the street below. "It's a good thing your guys set up security cameras around the city, Massano. Otherwise our job would be a lot tougher."
Farnmir had been searching through the security footage of the past week, having her powerful shipboard AI system pick out any instances where militia members came into view. The current hologram played through each instance a militia trooper entered the restaurant. Vhetin nodded to the image and folded his arms.
"Notice a pattern? None of them are the older militia troopers. In fact-"
He nodded to Kalyn, who sped through the recording until Varitalis, the cantina bouncer, passed into view. When he came near Kassh's front business, he didn't even glance at it. He walked past the door and didn't look back.
"Your security cameras recorded four different instances of your veterans passing by the restaurant," Farnmir said. "None of them stopped."
"So?" Massano said. "That just means those four just didn't go in the building at that time."
"Actually, no," Farnmir said. "I've been monitoring comm channels. Every corrupt militia trooper checked in at the restaurant. What would happen every time is..."
She displayed the image of one of the troopers being approached by a Rodian door greeter. The Rodian would shake their hand, they would exchange a few words, then the trooper would be led inside.
"...the greeter talks to them for a bit, and he always manages to say the words we have always appreciated your business. Then the trooper emerges around fifteen minutes later and goes about his business. Even those rare few who aren't in the mood for a payoff are approached by the greeter, just in case."
Farnmir displayed the image of the Rodian walking up to a militia soldier. The holo sputtered and began playing sound. "Would you care to come in for a refreshment?" the Rodian said in its reedy voice. "We at the Sandtrap Restaurant have always appreciated your business."
The trooper shrugged the Rodian's sucker-tipped fingers off his shoulder and said, "Not now. Too many eyes on me at the moment. Maybe I'll stop by for a drink or two later tonight."
Farnmir paused the recording. "We could have stared at it for days and found nothing if we didn't find that one kid tucking credits into his coat."
"So what?" Massano said. "What's the point to all this?"
"Your veteran militia trooper," Farnmir explained, showing the holo of Varitalis again, "not only doesn't stop, but isn't approached by the Rodian. The bug-eyed bastard doesn't even spare your trooper a second glance."
"So the veterans can be trusted?"
Farnmir shut down the hologram and rested her hands on her hips. "I've been in this business a long time," she said. "And I can tell when criminals are scoping people out and when they're deliberately avoiding them. Kassh knows that the veterans are too loyal to you. They aren't the weak link in your operation. The newer recruits are."
Massano pondered over the news. "That makes sense, I guess. So what do I do?"
"Gather your veteran militia troopers," Vhetin said. "Only the veterans. If we're going to stop Kassh, we need to go as soon as possible. We'll brief your guys on the way."
Jay nodded in agreement and clambered to her feet. "We should probably sweep the troops for bugs on the way. If Kassh has moles in the militia, it's possible they have ways to monitor the veterans."
Massano nodded, a steely look of determination coming into his gaze. "Okay. I'll get my guys together and prep a speeder. You have the coordinates to Kassh's base?"
Farnmir nodded. "I'll send them once we're underway."
"Then we'll be ready by sundown. Meet us then and we'll head out."
The militiaman nodded to them in parting and strode toward the rooftop access door. After a moment Farnmir followed him. As she went she called over her shoulder, "I'm gonna go double-check those coordinates, just in case. I'll be in touch."
Vhetin nodded and returned to scrutinizing the restaurant. Jay clipped the macrobinoculars back to her belt with a sigh. She glanced over at her partner, hesitated, then said, "Do you think this will work? I'm not sure a full-on assault is the wisest choice. It'll give Kassh plenty of time to prepare."
"Normally," Vhetin replied, "I would say that I vouch for those men and their skills. Now I'm not so sure. We still don't even have solid evidence Kassh is even here. His organization is here, but he's still in the wind."
"You didn't really answer my question. I know we need backup, but this seems like a pretty big gamble. You really think we can get this done?"
He pointedly said nothing. The uncertainty of their situation didn't require further elaboration. They both knew they were still flying blind. Jay couldn't shake the feeling they were drifting further and further from their target. That they were doing exactly what Kassh wanted them to do.
"We should probably get back to Void," she eventually said, taking one last look at the restaurant. "Maybe Tarron will have some miracle information for us. If not, we can still get some rest before we have to move in on the MUV base."
Vhetin nodded and held the door open for her. "Look on the bright side," he said. "We're almost done."
"Yeah," Jay said, standing and following him down the stairs. "Almost done…"
