Chapter 3

Vogga was in a terrible mood. This wasn't unusual. His temperament was often easily disturbed but for once he had good reason to really get ticked off. Mossa had just explained, with much trepidation, that the smuggling group he backed in the Mirgoshir system had been completely wiped out by Republic operatives, probably Jedi. The 12 ships in the "Red sun" organisation had set the Hutt back some 2 and a half million credits – credits which he now knew he would not be getting back, and if there was one thing that Vogga hated more than everything else it was losing money. The Hutt shifted uncomfortably on his dais, mounted on the bridge of his own luxury cruiser, the Vogga's Pride – he had always disliked travel as well. Mossa nervously approached his master, body already tensed for the inevitable tongue lashing.

"Mossa! How long before we reach Nar Shaddaa?"

"Another six hours I'm afraid sir. Is there any hurry?"

"Yes Mossa, there is. I've decided to do something about this incident with the Red Sun slavers. I want you to put our top Bothans on finding out which Jedi shut us down – and then post a bounty on his or her head." Mossa practically choked.

"You can't be serious sir! A bounty on Jedi, it's… it's unheard of!"

"Incorrect my faithful retainer. An old exchange boss known as Goto – at one point a real rival to me - put a bounty on surviving Jedi from one of their religious wars that they always have. If that has been could do it, I certainly can." Mossa was not convinced.

"But the Jedi represent the spiritual arm of the republic. If we openly attack them we could ignite the war we've been trying to avoid for decades!" Vogga sneered at Mossa cruelly.

"You gutless cur Mossa! I do what I want and nobody insults me like these Jedi have – now tell me, who would they most likely be?"

"Err… well, rumour has it that several teams were responsible, usually a Jedi Knight and his apprentice in each. From there the Bothans would need to contact the slavers themselves for a description and match it with the known information about current Jedi, further narrowing the list using statistics to determine how likely…"

"Enough Mossa! Just do it. I don't care how it's actually done – go."

"There was one other matter which I thought you'd be interested in sir – it's rather important". Vogga shifted on his dais to actually look at Mossa for the first time in the conversation.

"Really Mossa? What might that be?"

"Well sir, Senator Bilik of the Caston system… is dead. Murdered." Vogga was stunned.

"But that's wonderful news! Bilik was a key person ensuring stability on Caston. Just think of the chaos his murdered must have caused! Wait a minute – I didn't order that did I?"

"Not to my knowledge, no sir. However much it may have benefitted you."

"Alright then – I want to know who did it and why if it wasn't one of my guys. And don't forget about those Jedi. Now go!" So Mossa left, with instructions to hunt down Jedi Knights, and a sick feeling in his stomach.

Aron Vima stood next to his master in the penthouse apartment, master and apprentice side by side, viewing the crime scene. Aron broke the silence first.

"So who do you think did it then?" he asked, gesturing towards Senator Bilik's body. Veshnar turned to his apprentice and gave a smile.

"In this situation my young padawan, the "who" is far less important than the "why". This is not the work of a scorned lover or a cheated business partner – this is no crime of passion at all. The killer was cold and methodical, careful and purposeful – they did the job and got out. I would bet my knighthood that they were paid to do this." Aron thought about this.

"So we need to look for who would hire somebody to do this?"

"The Hutt's are the single, glaring suspects for the moment. They greatly benefit from any interference on Caston, and an unstable government is a birthday present for them." Aron looked worried.

"Should we, uh, haul one in for questioning?" Veshnar smiled at his padawan naiveté.

"First of all, hauling a Hutt anywhere is a task not to be taken lightly. Second, if we threaten a Hutt crime lord, we endanger various government contracts which could put thousands of Republic citizens out of work or in debt. It is a shame but the great power the Hutt's wield makes them almost untouchable." Aron was outraged.

"But that's not fair! If they are responsible they should face punishment just like everybody else! Having money doesn't put you above the law!"

"Yes boy, but the Hutt's operate out of Hutt space which –"

"But Hutt space ends at Caston. If a murder happens on Caston then Republic law is still in effect. How can we dismiss that?" Veshnar tried to placate his morally outraged padawan – Aron had always struggled with the compromises Jedi of this era had to make, specifically towards the money grabbing Hutts.

"Calm yourself young one. Remember, there is no emotion –"

"There is peace" Aron finished sullenly, brow furrowed and lips pouting, "but what about the killer? Are we not going to help the Captain find him?"

"Yes young one we will, if only to prevent an innocent person suffering. Highly sensitive cases like this often require a fall guy or patsy to quickly appease outraged mobs. We must prevent this." Veshnar gestured and the two Jedi began examining the room in detail. Vima began at the window – the way the glass had fallen clearly showed that the window had been broken from the outside, and with great force. Veshnar wandered all over the room, sporadically picking up the various sculptures and tasteful glass decorations that made the hotel room so classy. Eventually he once again examined the body, lifting Bilik's prone head with the force and gazing at the wound which killed Caston's "Quartermaster". As if confirming something, Veshnar nodded to himself and wandered over to a far wall. He spoke with his teacher's voice to Vima softly.

"Anything strike you as unusual padawan?" Inwardly Aron groaned. He hated that phrase "young padawan", it was the most patronising thing he'd ever heard, appearing to be a sign of affection but in actuality telling him of both his lowly age and lowlier rank within the Jedi. Also, Vima had not noticed anything unusual and was therefore in danger of disappointing his Master once again.

"Err… not a very subtle break in? For a political assassination I mean." Vima winced – was that the right thing to say?

"Very good. If the purpose was simply to kill Bilik then what necessitated such a flashy entrance? Why not kill him with a bomb in a public place if outright fear was desired from his death?" Vima again lacked any answers.

"Err… because they wanted to kill him in his sleep but couldn't find another way in?" Veshnar smiled.

"A reasonable supposition padawan but that would suggest this was poorly planned. An assassin aims to kill the Quartermaster while he sleeps with a poison needle – perfectly possible by the way, I doubt you'd wake up with such a thin thing piercing your body – but turns up at the building and realises the only way to get him is through a reinforced window? That does not sound like the MO of any professional I've ever heard of." Vima felt himself getting frustrated with his Masters riddles.

"Do you have an answer to this Master?"

"Not a one. Not yet anyway. However, it is possible that …" Veshnar's personal communicator sounded an alarm. He answered it.

"Ah, Captain I wanted to… well no I don't think… Oh, really! Well, if you think it best to… I'm pleased, it's just… no at this early stage the media can… well at least let me interview him fir… that's all I ask. Goodbye." Veshnar curtly snapped his communicator off.

"Well that's not good."

"What?"

"The head of the investigation, Oodar, has taken a suspect into custody. He's convinced they've got their man." Vima looked sceptical.

"Who is it? Who's he got?"

"Dengkow customs picked up a Vor male trying to leave the planet without a tourist visa. Oodar is convinced he's got his killer. I've asked him to let me interview the poor thing before he tells the media."

"Could it be the killer? Really?"

"It's very unlikely young Padawan. As any investigation will show, you catch a culprit with immense hard work, patience and tenacity. Very rarely do you get your target with the first being you arrest. We'd better head to the military station and make sure Oodar doesn't do anything rash. If he's wrong he'll ruin his own career and this Vor's life."

Villssk was a Trandoshan. A large Trandoshan. He was also a Mercenary. Over the last five years of profitable jobs on Nar Shaddaa he had become, in a select group's eyes, the mercenary. He liked to boast that he had killed, tortured, butchered or eaten an individual from every sentient species in known space. Whether this was true or not, few would be brave enough to bring him to task with it. A single glance at Villssk would tell you why. He was over 7 feet tall, had a mouth full of 2inch long teeth and never left a room without a repeating blaster rifle and wicked-looking vibrosword for company. Villssk was the leader of the Gaping Maw, a band of a hundred or so bounty hunters who worked together for a vast sum of credits. They were not exclusively hired by the Hutt's but outside of the crime lords and the Exchange, no one could afford them, or would even want their services anyway. The Gaping Maw did not capture. The Gaping Maw did not hold people to ransom. The Gaping Maw killed, quickly, brutally and with extreme prejudice. Villssk was not, it should be said, a snob. He did not turn down small contracts when he got them. If he and he alone were paid to kill someone he would deal with it without consulting the rest of the Gaping Maw at all. He allowed his men a similar level of autonomy when not together on a big job. But gathered together and properly equipped? The Gaping Maw with Villssk at its head could tear apart a star system for as little as non-payment of debts.

Villssk was currently in a deep pit of Nar Shaddaa, buried away in the industrial sector. He marched alone down the narrow streets with purpose, confidence and malice. Doors and windows slammed shut in his wake for fear of catching his attention. Eventually he reached the right address and wrapped his knuckles on a wrought iron door. It opened slowly and two beady eyes look out at him. The occupant, on seeing Villssk, quickly tried to shut the door again but Villssk was quicker and barged it open with his shoulder. The beady eyes belonged to a Rodian who now stumbled backwards, away from the frightful reptile. Behind him, 3 other aliens sat at a table in a dingy, squalid room. They had apparently been playing Pazaak but now all looked round in fear, a second Rodian, a Twilek and a Gran.

"Hello boys" Villssk said with a hiss. The first Rodian at the door reacted first, reaching behind him and pulling out a large blaster pistol. Unfortunately for him, Villssk's cold blood was fired up with battle and grabbed the Rodian by the face in a clawed hand before the hapless scum could squeeze off a single shot. Behind Villssk the other three aliens were reaching for their weapons – nobody but the suicidal walk the smuggler's moon unarmed – but Villssk was the only true warrior in the room. He hurled the Rodian, pitifully small in the Trandoshan's grasp, bodily across the room, grunting with satisfaction when the Twilek was hit in the chest by his own comrade. Both thugs went down hard against the far wall. Villssk charged headfirst at the remaining two, drawing his own heavy blaster in a flash and shooting the second Rodian at the pazaak table in the face. The Gran thug had now drawn a bowcaster from beneath the table but by the time it was ready to fire Villssk was too close. In one smooth action, the mighty Trandoshan drew his vibrosword from its sheathe and sliced the Gran in half. Villssk whipped round with all the ferocity of a krayt dragon and plunged the vibrosword into the Twilek's chest, the thug having only just pushed the Rodian off him. The crippled first Rodian now scrabbled around on the floor for a weapon, his back obviously broken. With a snarl Villssk brought his foot up and then down at great speed, crushing the helpless Rodian's throat. With a contented hiss Villssk viewed the carnage – 4 dead in less than 20 seconds. He drew his sword from the burly Twilek's body, cleaned it with his own spit and a rag on his belt and sheathed it. He then picked up the Gran's weapon, a rather large Bowcaster. Villssk sniffed and gazed down the mighty weapons sight. He aimed at the top half of the weapons former owner and fired several shots, the power of the weapon capable of tossing the Gran's torso aside like a doll. Villssk gave his best attempt at a smile (like most Trandoshan facial expressions it was really just a relaxed snarl) and muttered to the bodies strewn around him.

"Too good for the likes of you. Not that you'll need it." Villssk snorted with laughter at his own wit and shouldered the bowcaster as his own. He walked out of the flophouse with the leisurely stroll of a normal being that'd just finished an honest day's work. And in Villssk's twisted mind, that's precisely how he saw himself.

As Villssk left the tomb -like pazaak den he was greeted by two members of his crew, identifiable by the dark, almost black, purple sash around their wastes. There was a Barabel named Ragath in a combat suit and a tall Devaronian dressed in full Mandalorian armour named Farleth – the lieutenants of the Gaping Maw mercenary band.

"Hey boss" Ragath said, respectful to the massive mercenary, "we've just got wind of a special assignment – I think you're gonna wanna hear it". Villssk raised an eyebrow.

"We were asked were we? Who wants our services?" Every "s" out of Villssk's mouth lasted for several seconds. When moody it took him 10 minutes just to tell someone his name. Farleth spoke this time far more hesitantly – he had known Villssk for far less time than the Barabel and was still nervous in his presence.

"We haven't been specifically offered the job – at least not yet – but word on the street is that Vogga the Hutt wants a couple of Jedi bumped off, no questions asked. Details to follow." Villssk thought deeply. He knew the dangers of an assignment like that were twofold. First, Vogga was the enemy (also brother) of Barlo the Hutt, nicknamed "Queen of the slaves" who had been instrumental in first bringing together the Gaping Maw themselves and outfitting them in their early days. They were supposedly free of her influence now of course but she was still their most valued customer – any aid provided to Vogga, Barlo's arch nemesis, would almost certainly change that. Secondly was the more immediate concern of how much damage a Jedi could do and how difficult they could be to kill. Villssk remembered vividly the last time a bounty was posted on Jedi – a lone Jedi female had wiped out dozens of the galaxies top bounty hunters in just a few short months, not to mention killing renowned crime lord and rising star in the exchange Goto, who supposedly posted the bounty in the first place. But Villssk always looked forward to a challenge. Killing scum throughout Nar Shaddaa helped pass the time and sated his blood lust but Villssk needed exertion and challenge as well.

"Inform the other bounty hunters that we are interested in the contract" Villssk said to his lieutenants, "those that ignore us will be the ones who could challenge us. And I enjoy competition." This was of course the benefit of having such a large group of bounty hunters – individual bounty hunters knew that their chances of claiming said bounty with a hundred others working together towards the same end were very low. And besides, Villssk by and large obeyed the rules of the bounty hunters but the more barbaric members of the Gaping Maw were not so averse to killing off hunters searching for the same target. Villssk promptly dismissed his fellow gang members and headed towards a cantina. "Killing Jedi" he thought to himself, "now there's a thought to wash down a breakfast!"

Aron Vima was slumped in a chair in the military station while in the room behind him his Master questioned the Vor suspect. Captain Oodar seemed determined to make it an interrogation and Vima had felt it was so unfair the way the pugnacious Captain had treated the Vor he left the room in protest. As soon as Vima saw the suspect, a Mr Lavuenus, he knew they didn't have the right man and Veshnar knew it too. He was just a poor sentient on an unfamiliar planet at the wrong time. Oodar was determined to prove that Lavuenus was guilty for several reasons – first, Lavuenus' species were gifted with natural flight and had a large, leathery 3 metre wingspan to prove it. Secondly, while the Vor were typically a calm and non-violent species , Mr Lavuenus must have been the exception because he had a record for serving an 18 month stretch at an Alderaan penal colony for unlicensed bounty hunting in Republic space. Oodar lumped the common job of "bounty hunting" in with the not-so-common job of "professional assassin" and thus had his killer. Thirdly and currently most prevalently, the Vor were an infamously taciturn and stoic species, never prone to showing emotion, positive or negative. Oodar clearly did not know this, despite Veshnar telling him several times, and therefore continued to believe that Lavuenus' silence was incriminating rather than merely a racial trait. It was, just as Veshnar had predicted, an unfair and bias arrest due to the intense pressure Oodar was under to find the culprit. In this at least, Aron sympathised with the frustrated Captain – word had got out that a Vor had been taken into custody and with the same suspicious speed that the original murder became known, a mob had quickly assembled at the possibility of seeing the culprit. At least a hundred angry Twileks and Devaronians now stood outside the military base with more joining all the time. Veshnar would have to calm things down quickly or there could be a lynching.

Lavuenus himself was not the murderer of course. He sat with a passive expression on his narrow, birdlike face, betraying no sign of the fear he felt inside. The Vor were artisans, poets and singers – they were categorically not contract killers. The Vor in question had only been caught as a bounty hunter by helping an old friend restrain a thief out on one of the moons of Bogden. The Republic officer who had arrested him could not speak Lavuenus' native language and charged him with illegal bounty hunting and resisting arrest, the latter crime Lavuenus was definitely guilty of at least. The bird man didn't like this situation one bit. The interrogation room was closed off and stuffy, his interpreter was doing a lousy job relaying his words and he definitely didn't trust the crimson eyed Jedi who purported to be on his side. Like so many of the galaxies population, the Chiss' blue skin and red eyes made Lavuenus extremely uncomfortable.

"…I can help you, but we have to determine what you are doing here citizen, and why you don't have a tourist visa" the interpreter finished, summing up what Veshnar had just said in the incomprehensible Galactic Basic. Lavuenus sighed deeply and spoke slowly to the interpreter, reciting once again the reason for his stay. The interpreter listened very closely, panic spreading over his face as he struggled to decipher the Vor's strong accent. Finally the interpreter understood and turned to Oodar and Veshnar with an apologetic look on his face.

"Well?" Oodar said impatiently.

"He says… he says he's here to organise a new trading contract between Caston and Vortex, his home world. It was a diplomatic mission which is why he doesn't have a visa."

"Oh no," Oodar said triumphantly, "that won't fly at all. He should have a diplomatic visa if that was the case."

"Yes Captain but he said he cancelled it himself this morning, his meeting was called off."

"And why was that exactly? Trade is very important on Caston, what could possibly take prevalence?"

"The man he was meeting up with was assassinated and he decided to get off the planet quickly to avoid potential backlash." Oodar was dumbfounded. He whispered softly to the interpreter.

"Who was the man he was supposed to meet?"

"Quarter Master Bilik sir. Mr Lavuenus was appointed to negotiate a trade agreement with the head of the guild."

Several hours later, Veshnar and Vima walked back to their new flophouse lodgings, the laughter of the military bases soldiers still ringing in their ears. It would take some time before Oodar's pride recovered from the humiliation of arresting a diplomatic emissary whose sole purpose on Caston was to meet the man Oodar accused him of murdering. A mistake in the system had failed to show Lavuenus' status as a diplomat and instead merely showed his criminal file from several decades, and another life, ago. Oodar had rushed to fill in the blanks and arrested one of the few men on Caston who literally would suffer if Bilik died. Veshnar had just explained this to the now dispersed crowd, throwing Oodar to the Kath hounds somewhat and now the two Jedi were heading for a rest after a productive first day on Caston. Oodar had left them, still desperate to further shoot himself in the foot by looking for other species on Caston who could naturally fly, but since he was nearly hysterical after being mocked so publicly by his own men and a large crowd, Veshnar highly doubted his chances of achieving much more today.

"Well, you did warn him not to rush things, didn't you Master" Aron Vima said smugly. Veshnar gave him a disapproving glance.

"The Jedi do not need to say I told you so young padawan. We must rise above such pettiness."

"Yes master" Aron said casually. Whenever he knew "young padawan" was about to crop up in a sentence, he often tuned out. Veshnar took him to task with it this time. He drew his padawan over to one side with a stern fatherly hand.

"No, young padawan, not just yes master. I want you to understand these lessons. You have immense potential, don't throw it away by belittling others who have less… facilities than you do. You will make a fine librarian one day and protect and study our archives, but for now you have to learn the most valuable lesson of all – you don't know everything. I have been with the Jedi for 25 years and I certainly don't understand some aspects of human behaviour."

"But Master I-"

"No buts! No excuses! A Jedi is humble and meek unless the weak are threatened, passive until the innocent are harmed, wise until the stars burn out into the void. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death…"

"There is the force." Aron finished for him, but at the moment he said it he felt dissatisfied with it. But perhaps all he really wanted was to leave Caston, and get back to his beloved books on Dantooine. The master and apprentice entered their dingy flophouse in silence and went to sleep on ill terms.