Rame's farm, outside Keldabe, Mandalore
Jay ducked a vicious swipe at her head and lunged forward, trying to ram her sword through her opponent's chest. He slammed her blade aside and backpedaled, ensuring he was safely out of reach. Her next slash sliced through empty air with a whistle, forcing her to yank her arm back close to her chest and re-center her balance.
"You hesitated." There was amusement in her opponent's voice.
"I did not!" She jumped forward, aiming at his chest again.
Vhetin brought his rectangular shield down on her blade, pinning it to the corral floor with a jarring clang. He then stepped on it, keeping it held firmly in place. She yanked hard, but couldn't dislodge the weapon from beneath his boot.
"You can't hesitate," he told her. "If you do, you only give your opponent that much more of a hold over you. Battles can be won or lost in seconds."
She barely let him finish speaking before she cocked her arm back and slammed her circular shield into the side of his helmet. It connected with a loud blang of crashing metal and he staggered away, clutching at his head. She didn't press the attack, instead stepping back and lowering her weapons. Vhetin shook his head with a curse, then his T-visored gaze snapped back to her and a good-natured growl came over his vocoder. He hefted his sword and shield back up to shoulder level.
She grinned and pointed her sword at him, feeling sweat trickle down one cheek. "Don't talk. If you do, you only give your opponent that much more time to think of how she'll hurt you next."
He spun his sword in his hand, crouching behind his shield as he approached her once again. As soon as he was close enough, he struck with the speed and grace of a Kashyyyk vine viper.
"Why do we, uh-" she grunted as she had to shift her footing to counter his advance and block his attack, "-have to fight with shields this time, anyway? Isn't it a little archaic?"
"The usual reason: so you learn to adapt to combat that is-" he blocked a blow to his helmet and pushed her back a few steps, "-outside your comfort zone. To keep you on your toes."
"It's been a month since that Stunball match and that's still the best excuse you can come up with?" She almost fell when he hooked his leg out and tried to trip her. But he struck too late; she had plenty of time to twist the awkward fall into a somersault, coming back to her feet to whip around and slash down at his back. He pivoted his arm and swung his long rectangular shield over his shoulder, knocking her sword away before the blow could fall.
"It's just that-" she paused, frowning with concentration as she deflected his next flurry of attacks, "-you've had formal training in all these types of combat. It gives you a bit of an unfair advantage-"
She was cut off as he suddenly crouched, striking out at her legs with his outstretched foot. She'd long since adapted to this move, however, and nimbly leaped over his feet.
He wasn't finished just yet; he used his momentum to bring him up into a half-spin, leaping high into the air and slamming both heels into the middle of her chest in a powerful double-kick. Though she was protected by armor plating, the strength behind the blow winded her and sent her wildly off balance. She crashed to the ground with a clatter of armor plates and he followed her only a split-second later. Gravity still applied, even in the sparring ring.
The black-armored Mandalorian quickly clambered back up onto his feet, stepping back and giving her time to regain her composure and recover from the fall. He was panting hard and she could see sweat darkening the arms and chest of his flight suit. He was wearing a scaled-down suit of armor to compensate for the hot weather and the extra weight of the heavy durasteel battle shield. Unlike usual armor, these suits had thinner fabric across the sleeves and sported lighter dueling gauntlets for increased maneuverability in battle. It was obviously stifling within his suit.
He stared at her through the menacing T-visor of his helmet, sheathing the sword and leaning on his waist-high shield while he caught his breath. "That's not true," he said. "I've rarely fought with a shield before. Not really my style."
"But-" she grunted and sat up onto her knees, holding her stomach. "But you're using that shield like a pro."
He rotated the shield in his hands, making the bulky piece of metal spin in front of him. "Improvisation," he replied, a smile in his voice. "All of this is made up on the fly."
"Improvisation, huh?" She shook a strand of sweaty hair out of her eyes as she stood straight again.
He nodded, his weapon and shield coming back up in preparation for round two.
"Then improvise against this!" She charged for him again and their blades met with a bone-shaking clash.
The world raced by in a messy blur as Tarron blasted down the road on his old speeder bike, heading for Rame Omotao's farm. He had to tell Vhetin what he'd found before the lead got cold. His intel was already a day old and Force only knew how the Mandalorian would react if this target managed to escape before the hunt even began.
The grassgrain fields that surrounded the farm drifted into view around a small copse of trees, the farmhouse emerging just a short way beyond. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight and pushed the engines even faster. The bike shot forward down the road with a whoop of overcharged repulsor engines, kicking up thick clouds of dust as it went.
Ever since touching down on Mandalore he'd felt like time was slipping away like formless sand through his fingers. Everything — from disembarking to gearing up the bike to racing along the road — seemed to take far too long. Lives depended on him getting his information to Vhetin in a timely fashion. He just hoped luck was on his side.
He finally, finally skidded to a halt in front of the farm, hopping off the bike as soon as the engines cycled down. But when the rattle of the repulsors finally died away, he could hear strange sounds breaking the newfound rural quiet. Clashing swords, grunts of exertion, and the scuffle of heavily-armored feet. Was someone fighting?
It didn't take long to find the source of the noise: Vhetin was in the training corral around the back of the house, sparring with a young woman in light fencing armor. Both carried swords and shields in the manner of ancient Corellian gladiators, and both fought with barely-restrained ferocity that seemed almost too intense for a friendly sparring match.
Their duel was ruthless and furious, each combatant throwing everything they had into the fight. Even as Tarron watched, the Mandalorian spun and slashed with a blow that would take a normal man's head off at the shoulders. The woman reacted fast, dropping to one knee, hunching her neck down out of the way, and blocking the attack with her circular shield. He could see her muscles strain and shake from the exertion of taking the blow. But her shield remained up and the blow glanced off the scuffed beskar surface.
Who was this? He didn't recognize the woman and she wasn't any of the allies Vhetin usually trained with. Brianna was currently in Keldabe, gearing up for a contract on Belsavis; he'd spoken to her before heading to the farm. Janada was working on some new project up at MandalMotors. And Rame and Mia were out of town, hence the reason Vhetin was keeping an eye on their farm to begin with.
This other woman must be Vhetin's student, the one that had won the Stunball match a month before. He'd heard of her from conversations with Rame, but had never met her personally. From everything he'd heard, she was smart, skilled, and dedicated to her new profession. Seeing her duel now, he could understand why Omotao was so eager to praise her skills.
He quickly picked up his pace and made straight for the corral. This was certainly going to be an interesting conversation.
Jay jumped back as Vhetin slashed at her stomach, the razor-edged sword hissing through the air only centimeters from her gut. She brought her circular shield in front of her to hinder his advance, crouching behind it and giving her partner only a minute area at which to strike. Her next steps took her further back toward the fence line, away from the center of the arena. Her black-armored opponent followed, eager to trap her between his sword and the edge of the corral.
Little did he know, she was hoping he would follow her. As soon as she saw an opening, when his foot was planted awkwardly mid-step, she sprung her trap. She dropped her guard for a moment, hopping back and placing a foot on the bottom rung of the fence behind her. She pushed off with all her might, raising both sword and shield as she launched herself into the air to strike from above at his head and shoulders.
Vhetin had anticipated her acrobatic attack; she'd been drifting toward the fence for the entire duel, furtively glancing over her shoulder from time to time and no doubt hoping he didn't notice. She had obviously been dying to try this new aerial move on him all day. So rather than dropping into a crouch to defend himself, he lowered his shield to waist-level and brought his sword up to counter her air kick.
The kick missed. Instead of striking true against the center of his chest, her ankle only grazed his ribcage and slipped beneath his arm. Her momentum carried her forward, sending her flying off-course with a shout of surprise. A second later she landed heavily on her back with a tremendous crash, her shield wrenched her grip and her helmeted head cracking hard against the duracrete floor of the corral. The circular battle shield bounced and rolled to the edge of the dueling area, hit the fence, then fell over.
The duel was very clearly over. Vhetin took a step back and lowered his weapons, sheathing his sword back on his belt. On the ground, Jay groaned and held her throbbing head, letting out a muttered curse that was muffled by the confines of her helmet.
"Oh, kriff… that hurt…"
He let her stew for a few moments, taking the time to lean his rectangular shield up against the corral fence. When he was sure she was content to let the fight rest — for the moment at least — he knelt next to her and cocked his head, his hands on his thigh plates.
"I take it that didn't go as planned?"
She grimaced and pulled off her sparring helmet, letting it bounce away across the corral. Her long brown hair, messily yanked from the bun she'd tied it in before the fight, spilled out onto the arena floor. She fixed him with an accusatory squint, narrowing her eyes against the glare of the sun.
"Shut up. I kriffing had you."
He grinned behind his own helmet and offered her a hand, which she accepted with a disgruntled huff. She wobbled for a moment when he hauled her back to her feet, then limped over to the corral fence and leaned against it, allowing it to carry her weight. She rested her hands on her knees and shook her head, her hair flying wild in the gentle summer breeze.
"Damn..." she sighed. "That attack worked so well when I was practicing. I managed to knock over the sparring dummy at least four times."
He picked up her fallen shield and handed it back to her. "In your defense, if that move had worked, it would have kicked ass. I never knew you moonlighted as a gymnast."
She scoffed and accepted the shield, propping it against the fence next to her. "Just trying to compensate for the fact that you seem to be some kind of superhero. How can you jump that high from a dead stop, anyway?"
She narrowed her eyes. "You are a superhero, aren't you?"
"I keep telling you, no. Though the image is intriguing now that you mention it. I look pretty good in a cape, you know."
She grunted and wiped at her forehead with her forearm. The fabric of her combat suit came away dark with sweat. "If you say so. But if you expect me to start calling you Super-Cin, you're sorely mistaken."
A deep laugh from the edge of the corral drew their attention. Vhetin turned and almost instantly found himself smiling.
A man was leaning up against the corral fence, one arm thrown casually over the cross-bar and his legs folded over each other. He sported dark brown body armor, similar to Mandalorian gear but definitely not of Mando make. A single-sheet chest plate stretched across his chest and he sported segmented arm guards that stretched from shoulder to wrist. Tucked under his belt was a decorative red sash drape, symbolizing his role as a Journeyman Protector.
Vhetin nodded to him in greeting, bowing his head and saying, "Cuy, vod. Welcome back to Manda'yaim. It's been a while."
The man's smile grew wider as he ducked into the sparring corral and approached them, spreading his hands in greeting. "Your reputation for generosity and hospitality is fast becoming the stuff of local legend, Cin. I've heard that on Nar Shadda, those running from Imperial law have plans to seek you out directly for sanctuary."
With a friendly chuckle, he clasped Vhetin's forearm in a firm Mandalorian handshake. Vhetin shook back and smiled, though he knew the man couldn't see it, hidden as it was behind his battle helmet. "And what makes you say that?"
"Well, it's hardly befitting a bounty hunter." The man gestured to Jay. "You've brought home another stray, haven't you?"
Vhetin shrugged. "What can I say? I apparently can't help but rescue damsels in distress."
Jay scoffed. "Watch who you're calling damsel, Vhetin."
He motioned for his partner to step closer. "Jay, I'd like you to meet Tarron Matele, a Journeyman Protector, freelance bodyguard, and an old friend of mine. Tarron, this is Jay Kolta, my… apprentice, for lack of a better term."
Jay smiled and shook the man's hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Matele."
Vhetin leaned against the fence and folded his arms across his chest, grateful to take a break from sparring in the sweltering heat of Mandalore's sun. "So what brings you all the way from Hapes? Did the Queen Mother get tired of your company already?"
Tarron's grin didn't fade. "She's a wonderful woman. But as a freelance bodyguard and a hired one at that, I grew a little tired of... female condescension, shall we say?"
Vhetin more than understood; Hapes was a planet where the government was controlled by women, while the men were a subordinate class relegated to little more than slave labor. Vhetin had always found the citizens of the Consortium to be downright hostile toward him and his role as a warrior (traditionally a female profession in their culture), and so usually steered clear of the entire sector. How Tarron had managed to cultivate such a healthy friendship with the women in power was beyond him.
"So what brings you to Mandalore?" Jay asked, leaning on her shield and tying her sweaty hair back in a loose ponytail. "I doubt it was just for a vacation."
Tarron's seemingly unstoppable grin finally faded. His gaze fell to his boots, and he suddenly looked very tired and worried. "No, I'm afraid I'm here on business. Vhetin, I need to speak to you. Urgently."
"Of course," Vhetin said with a concerned frown. It was unusual for Tarron to act this way. The man was usually full of boundless humor and energy. "What's wrong?"
Tarron glanced around, as if suddenly self-conscious of his surroundings. "Can we step inside?"
"Rame and Mia are down on the other side of the planet for the day while Jay and I look after the farm. I'm sure they won't mind if we commandeer the kitchen to get out of the sun for a bit."
As they made their way to the small farmhouse, Tarron kept his eyes on his armored boots. "Vhetin... I'm not usually one to give advice. Hell, I usually just take my finder's fee and move on. But just once, I'm going to give you my opinion."
What is all this about? Vhetin wondered. I haven't seen Tarron this worried since...
Then the pieces clicked into place. Not since the last Kassh contract.
He held the door open for the other two. As they all headed into the kitchen, he followed close behind, one hand clenched into a tight fist. "All right," he said, unable to keep a terse note from entering his voice. "We're inside. Now what's got you so worked up?"
"You haven't already guessed?" Tarron said, anxiety apparent in his tone as he sat down at the table in the kitchen. He rubbed his wide, lined face and released a deep, weary sigh. "I'm surprised someone else hasn't brought this to your attention already."
"The Kassh contract has come up again, hasn't it?"
Jay looked between the two hunters as she settled into the seat across from Tarron, obviously unable to control her curiosity. "What are you two talking about? What's the Kassh contract?"
Vhetin, meanwhile, had a thousand thoughts racing through his head. What's he done this time? Where is he hiding now? What kinds of weapons will I need? Is Jay ready for her first real mission?
Tarron glanced up at him, watching intently through a curtain of shaggy, dirty blond hair. "You know, they haven't asked for you specifically yet. My advice is for you to leave this alone or kick it along to one of your other hunter friends. You've brought him in enough times and been paid bloody well for it. No one would blame you if you decided to pass this one up."
"Who is Kassh?" Jay demanded, finally beginning to sound frustrated. "What are you talking about?"
Vhetin sat down and rested his arms on the table. "Kassh has to be the closest thing I have to a mortal nemesis. I've chased and hunted that di'kut so many times that I've lost track of how many planets I've been to looking for him. And every time I bring him in, some idiot slips up and lets him escape again."
He began counting off on his fingers. "He's wanted by the Empire, the Chiss Ascendancy, the criminal underworld, and many others. But no one can keep him imprisoned for long."
Tarron's eyes were tired and anxious. "He's too smart for the dumb guards his captors keep throwing on him. Vhetin's brought him in four times on behalf of Black Sun alone."
"Kassh..." Jay said, frowning thoughtfully. "That name sounds familiar all of a sudden."
"Does the name Midnight Ultraviolet ring a bell?" Vhetin asked. Even though frustration and anger were dominating his mind, there was still a learning experience here for her. She needed to learn to piece together information, especially when her instincts were telling her it was important.
"Midnight Ultraviolet..." His partner's eyes lit up with recognition. "Wait, I do know that name. That's that Coruscant crime ring from back during the Clone Wars. I remember seeing reports that Republic Internal Security was trying to weed out their drug rings right before the Battle of Coruscant. Apparently they were Separatist sympathizers or something."
Tarron nodded. "Good memory. But that's just the tip of the iceberg."
"You see," Vhetin said, turning to face her, "at the beginning of the Wars, Jabba the Hutt was still expanding his criminal empire beyond the Outer Rim and into Republic space. To help him, he reached out to a trusted Twi'lek enforcer named Kassh Gorran. They worked well together, but after a while Kassh got used to being in power. He grew a little too big for his space boots."
Tarron picked up the story. "He tried to double-cross Jabba and hired an assassin to take the slug down. But Jabba's security stopped the assassin and it was revealed that Kassh was moving in on Jabba's holdings. Kassh was banished from Jabba's territory and chased all the way from the Outer Rim to the Core Worlds. But not before Kassh got his hands on some sixteen million of Jabba's hard-earned credits."
Vhetin snorted. "I wouldn't call it hard-earned, but I agree with the rest."
"Jabba put a ten thousand credit bounty on Kassh's head as payback," Tarron continued, "but no one was wily enough to get him. For almost twenty years this guy's been on the run, in and out of custody. And every time he comes back, that bounty gets bigger and bigger."
"Until now, when it's running at about one hundred thousand credits strong," Vhetin finished. "But only for someone who can catch him and keep him caught."
Jay frowned, pondering the information. "If the bounty is that big, why hasn't someone like Boba Fett gone after him?"
"Fett doesn't do revenge bounties," Vhetin said. "Not even if there's a hundred-k waiting at the end. And to be honest, he's the best chance of bringing the guy in for good."
"So, naturally," Tarron said with a hint of his earlier grin, "they turned to Vhetin to get the job done. Being one of many almost legendary bounty hunters in the galaxy does have its perks."
"So… just how long have you been hunting this guy?"
"Four years," the Mandalorian replied with an exasperated sigh, "and counting, apparently."
"My contacts say that Kassh is on Coruscant in the underworld of the entertainment district, and he's got a score to settle with Prince Xizor," Tarron reported. "From what I've heard, no other hunters have his scent yet. If you want to go after him, now's your best chance."
"And Xizor posted this bounty?"
The Journeyman Protector nodded. "On behalf of Jabba the Hutt of course. Kassh has been a thorn in Jabba's side for decades and the fat slug is all but hopping up and down at the prospect of removing the Twi'lek's head. But it's no secret Xizor wants him dead too."
"So Xizor keeps his hands clean," Jay murmured, rubbing her chin, "but still gets what he wants. And Jabba is grateful to Xizor for finally getting the job done."
"Of course," Vhetin said. "That way, Jabba owes Xizor a favor. It's just good business."
After a moment, he suddenly clapped his hands together and stood from his seat. "Jay, pack your things. We're heading out."
"What?"
He nodded at Tarron. "You heard the man: there are a hundred thousand credits out there waiting to be claimed. And I think we're just the ones to get the job done. We need to follow this up before someone else decides to join in the fun."
Jay didn't move, glancing sharply between Tarron and her partner. "A-are you sure about this? I mean, I haven't finished my training yet. We just got finished with the heavy weapons training and we still haven't gotten to talking through techniques about—"
"You're ready," Vhetin interrupted, a reassuring tone in his voice. "Trust me. I'm not as bad a teacher as most might think."
Jay stared down at her clasped hands, obviously still uncertain. He noticed her discomfort and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up when he squeezed gently, anxiety pulling at her features.
"It'll be okay," he told her. "Just get your gear ready. I'll be with you in a minute."
She took a deep breath and muttered, "I hope you know what you're doing," then stepped away and disappeared into the other room to gather her small amount of belongings. As soon as she was gone, Vhetin turned back to the table and rubbed absently at the forehead of his helmet, forgetting about the barriers that separated his fingertips from his skin. A hundred thousand credit reward was certainly enticing, but he was far from excited at the prospect of chasing Kassh down again. The Twi'lek gangster was dangerous, and he had a knack for laying traps and manipulating his opponents from half a galaxy away. He was devious and had long-reaching plans for his organization. Vhetin didn't like that kind of forward thinking in his targets.
Tarron was alternating between staring at the black-armored Mandalorian and pretending to be engrossed with the wooden patterns of the tabletop. Eventually he cleared his throat and spoke up.
"She seems nice," he noted. "Jay, I mean. A little young for this line of work. But nice."
"She's the same age as me," Vhetin said. "Give or take a year or two."
"True. But you're Mandalorian. That comes with a completely different set of rules." Tarron watched him for a few moments before speaking again. This time, he said what was truly on his mind — there was no need to dance around the matter that was plaguing them all.
"If you go out there," the Journeyman Protector said, "you'll have to face down Kassh's entire gang. Even with a new partner, it's next to impossible."
"I've brought him in before. And I was alone all those times. Now I have Jay to watch my back. I'll be fine."
"Kassh knows your technique," Tarron pressed, his voice a low murmur. "He won't fall for your previous tricks. He's smarter and deadlier than ever."
Vhetin folded his arms across his chest. "Well he's yet to find out about Jay. So I say we have a better-than-none chance at claiming that bounty. Sometimes, the element of surprise is all you need."
"You put too much faith in me, Vhetin." Jay shook her head as she entered the room again, holstering the pistol she'd won the month before. "I'm still a rookie, remember? I've never even gone on an actual mission yet. I hope you aren't pinning all your hopes on me like you did in that Stunball match."
"You won that match, remember? You'll be fine, just as long as you don't forget your training."
She rested her hands on her hips and cocked her head. "So... who'll watch after the farm while we're gone? This lead won't last forever."
"I can watch after this place until Rame and Mia get back," Tarron easily volunteered. "They'll be glad to see me after so long, and I'll tell them where you're headed and why. I can also stay on standby in case you need more information out there."
He stood and held out a hand. "Good luck, Vhetin."
"Thanks," Vhetin said. He slowly shook the offered hand. "But I've learned not to rely on luck."