Atton felt something prick his neck, and awareness began to bludgeon him mercilessly.
"Naada?" Atton croaked.
"The slaves are intact," a woman cooed in his ear.
"Tell us, handsome man, why?" a rougher voice asked briskly.
"Why what?" Atton asked, playing for time as his eyes began to focus again.
"You would have died. Why do this?" the smoother voice asked.
Atton considered lying, but he could see the rather attractive twi'lek holding him in her arms… and the second lurking within his sight. He recognized them by the vibro-blades on their belts.
The Twin Suns.
Bounty hunters.
"I paid off her debt. The slavers took them anyway. I couldn't pay more," Atton whispered.
"Part truth. Not whole truth," the darker twi'lek growled.
Atton watched her steadily. He wasn't armed. All he had was his mouth to get out of this.
He also could feel his gut, still sensitive from whatever the dead Jedi had done to him, hinting to him how to survive this.
"I'm a bad man," he whispered. His right ear was pillowed against a rather accommodating pair of breasts, and he could hear the muted heartbeat in his ear. The darker twi'lek bared her teeth, in agreement, if not a smile.
"The best thing I did was leave. But other, worse men came. I had to save my daughter. I wanted to do one good thing. They deserved that much," Atton said softly.
The twi'leks exchanged looks, before nodding. Atton could feel the stimulant starting to wear off. The one holding him let go carefully, and Atton felt more familiar arms cradle him.
"We will leave you then, handsome man, for now. But we will find you again, when we wish to dance with you," the pale twi'lek purred with a feral gleam in her eye.
Oh great. Psychotic fan-girls.
((()))
Vossk followed Mira into the tunnels, sliding the plasma projector across his back by the strap. It would be useless here. The hulking trandoshan drew his back-up heavy blaster, and had to uncomfortably crouch to not brush his head against the ceiling. Vossk felt almost blind without scent. He held an IR glow rod in one clawed hand. A wookiee couldn't see such light, but he could. His hearing was not as acute as a wookiee's, or even a human's, and the whirring-click of his breath mask interfered even with that sense.
Vossk could feel fear and despair snapping at his feet. Mira was not ready for this hunt. He had tried to guide her through the years. It was one of the reasons he'd never killed Hanharr so far. Mira needed to kill him.
The young human led them unerringly through the tunnels, barely hesitating at intersections, clearly leaning into her hunting gifts from the Scorekeeper. Once Mira was on the trail, it was very difficult to evade her. In many ways she was much like a Gand Findsman. Mira did not just follow a target; she followed where the target would be.
Vossk curbed his impulse to teach, for now. He was huntmaster, but there came a time when the young bloods had to hunt, and you had to hope, and pray to the Scorekeeper that something of what you'd taught them stayed lodged in their skulls.
They came to another intersection and Mira threw out her hand.
"Mine signals," she hissed, her head panning across the passage at something only she could see.
"Got it. Two Czerka model eighty-threes with antipersonnel payload configuration, proximity triggers," she hissed.
Vossk had doubts, but stayed silent, watching Mira, as she glanced down at her datapad, hesitating.
"Disable?" Vossk asked.
"…no. I don't think so," Mira said thoughtfully.
"Why?" Vossk asked.
"He's tried this on me before. Hanharr doesn't try traps twice against the same prey," Mira reasoned.
Good. Not stupid.
"Unless he's being clever, knowing that I know that…" Mira continued, "Which means this wouldn't be using the same trick twice, because it would be a different trick…"
"This trick has bitten him before," Vossk rumbled, as a clue.
Mira nodded, "He wouldn't want to risk getting mines turned on him again. Not after last time."
Mira picked up a piece of trash and tossed it into the passage ahead of them. Nothing happened.
"Dummy transmitters," Mira growled.
Then the flashbang hidden in the pipe overhead exploded, blinding Mira and overloading the retinal implants. Mira screamed, dropping into a ball from the excruciating pain.
Hanharr burst from around the corner towards Mira. He viciously slashed at her. The claws might kill her, but the sheer impact from his hand would be enough to snap her neck.
Vossk body checked the wookiee into a wall, snarling into his breath mask, startling the hell out of his opponent. Hanharr was too fixated on his target. Vossk lost his blaster in the process.
Trandoshan vision operated mostly in the IR spectrum, not visual… and Hanharr was warm.
"I see you," Vossk growled.
The wookiee howled, kicking out at Vossk and making the reptilian dance back from the disemboweling attack. He had hunted wookiees before. When he was much younger.
"Buy me some time, implants are rebooting!" Mira snarled, temporarily blind, but attracted the insane wook's attention.
Vossk smashed the smaller wookiee's hand aside, landing an elbow into Hanharr's ribs with literally bone breaking force. The wookiee flinched, aborting the attack on Mira, clutching at the broken ribs.
Vossk snarled softly into his breath mask, letting his posture fall into a threatening stalk. Hanharr glared, but retreated as Vossk advanced. The wookiee was young and small, barely older than a child by his people's standards. Thin, wiry, not yet having grown into the nearly three meter height his people could achieve… a full grown wookiee was easily stronger than the average trandoshan… but Hanharr wasn't full grown, and Vossk wasn't average.
The trandoshan felt only contempt for the wookiee. Coward. Weak. Insane. Honorless.
"Prey," Vossk hissed, in Basic, knowing it would infuriate the ancient blood enemy of his species.
Instead of fleeing though, the crazed wook charged him. Vossk couldn't kill him. He was Mira's prey. Vossk dropped the blaster and raised his talons. He heard a blaster shot, which skipped between his legs, and struck Hanharr in the knee.
It was not a kill shot.
Vossk blocked the telegraphed swipe at his chest, but missed the follow up back hand to his snout.
Mira fired again, hitting Hanharr in the shoulder, driving the wook off into the darkness.
"You should have killed him," Vossk hissed, furious.
"Sorry, I—" Mira trailed off, horrified.
Vossk could feel the poisonous gasses burning his lungs, and felt his legs give out. His breath mask was smashed.
"Vossk, hold on, I'll drag you—" Mira started to say helplessly before she stopped. He was too heavy. She was too small, and the distance much too far.
Vossk bared his teeth. This was a bad death.
"I name you as my heir," Vossk rasped, weakly fumbling the recording rod from his belt, "Once your hunt over. Take his head, in my name, as my child," Vossk snarled.
Mira fell to her knees, holding up the trandoshan's heavy taloned hand.
"Vossk…" Mira whispered brokenly.
Vossk let his talon slip off the recording button. His next words were for Mira alone.
"You fail, because you fear to kill, not because you can't. That is weak," Vossk glared, Mira's face was becoming blurry.
"You know when something needs to be killed. Do not fail me again," Vossk whispered. The pain and terror from air starved lungs began to overwhelm him. He could inhale, and exhale to speak, but the air was not breathable.
"Please. Give me, good death," Vossk begged.
Mira stonily reached over for Vossk's plasma caster.
The old trandoshan trembled.
At last, one of his line would kill him, and succeed him.
At last—
Vossk's world disappeared into a bright light.
((()))
Jolee maneuvered the Ebon Hawk over to the service gantry, grumbling under his breath as he opened the main airlock instead of the boarding ramp. Too close. Much too close. His reflexes weren't what they used to be, much like his hair. He saw people boiling out of the strip club, with blaster shots streaking the air occasionally. Bao-Dur broke from the entrance, carrying a white clad form. Mical limped behind him, firing stun blasts frantically, without seeming to aim, as they ran up the Ebon Hawk's boarding ramp.
"Where's Meetra?" Jolee shouted behind him.
"The pool room was empty. The bounty hunters were also missing," Bao-Dur reported, nursing a blaster graze to his cheek.
"Double cross?" Jolee demanded. Bao-Dur shrugged helplessly, carrying the limp handmaiden away. A swoop bike flashed past the cockpit, with a familiar shape waving at him frantically. Well, found one of the bounty hunters, but she didn't have a rider. Jolee opened the cargo loading ramp, not sensing any duplicity from the rider, just pain and sorrow, as well as a lot of rage. Blaster bolts sparked off the canopy, but unless someone was packing a heavy repeating— the Force drew his attention to something in the emerging crowd.
Oops, son of a bitch.
Jolee flicked on the freighter's shields, just before the highly illegal weapon opened fire. The light signaling that the cargo ramp was opened died, indicating it had been shut.
Angry boots stomped into the cockpit.
"I lost him. He's got your friend," Mira snarled.
"Alright, hold on, I've got to pick up the idiot," Jolee snapped, cutting his way back into the traffic lane, to the apparent displeasure of a bulk hovercarrier. Mira clutched to the back of Jolee's chair.
It was a quick jaunt to where Atton's comlink was transmitting, pretty close to the landing pad they'd been using, in some old warehouse, but Jolee saw Bao-Dur come out with a body in his arms, and two smaller shapes following.
Jolee felt a headache coming on.
"Mical, I think you've got another patient coming," Jolee said over the comlink.
Jolee could feel the bounty hunter's emotional turmoil, the despair and pain churning in her spirit. She burned with need, a need for revenge.
"You said you're lucky," Jolee said suddenly into the silent cockpit, while he waited for Bao-Dur and the other shapes to board.
Reluctantly the woman turned from the control panel she was glaring at.
"Sometimes," she whispered.
"I can't find Meetra in the Force," Jolee said slowly.
"Good luck then, Jedi," Mira snorted.
"Thank you, but I'll do you one better," Jolee replied.
Mira looked over, curious.
"What do you mean?" She asked.
"Well, you have a bit of the Force about you. I could help… focus it a little, make you a lot luckier," Jolee mused.
"If you can't find her, why would I be able to?" Mira asked defensively. She had recoiled at Jolee's words about Force Sensitivity, but hadn't seemed surprised, as if she'd simply had confirmation to one of her private fears.
"I'm not looking for her," Jolee smiled sharply, "But I bet the Wookiee is with her. Do you think you could find him?"
Mira slowly smiled. It was quite a chilling smile, "Oh. Oh yes. Wherever he runs… I'll find him."
((()))
Mical checked on Atton again, but the man's condition was still stable. Mical felt a twinge of shame though, to have so misread the man. He had thought Atton to be a selfish bastard, with a strangely twisted personal honor code. But after seeing the lengths he would go to protect his daughter… the woman was still seated next to the bio bed, holding onto Atton's limp hand. Even with his stunted abilities he could feel the love the woman had for Atton, and her daughter.
"Are either of you hungry?" Mical asked gently. The woman shook her head, but the little girl nodded vigorously.
"Atton is in no danger. I can show you to the galley, if you wish to make something, or else we have some packaged survival rations I can bring," the medic offered.
"Rations will be fine. Any food is fine after the Refugee sector," the woman whispered.
Mical smiled and nodded, before checking on the unconscious Echani in the rick-cot he had pulled into the medical bay, but her vital signs were also stable. Without being able to identify the compound he could do little more than watch and wait.
((()))
"I hope you are not in too much pain," a voice said, grating across tender eardrums.
Meetra groaned, and tried to move, but she was stopped by restraints across her body and head. The room was dark, which her headache appreciated.
"I would rather not resort to crude methods, but I do not always get what I want," the voice sighed.
Kreia? Meetra called out silently.
"Fear not. I am here," the shade murmured gently.
What happened? Meetra asked.
"The wookiee took you after an airborne toxin was used to incapacitate you, to a ship in orbit. Machines took custody of you, and have applied other machines to you. I believe one is a neural disruptor of some kind, but I am not well versed with technology," Kreia reported tersely.
"Goto, I presume?" Meetra asked thickly.
"Indeed. Very perceptive for a creature in your condition," the voice said, surprised.
A man slowly circled into Meetra's view.
"I am one of the... officials, representing a percentage of non-sanctioned trading here in both the Y'Toub system and Republic space," the man chuckled, bowing. He appeared human with a high widow's peak of closely cropped hair. A neatly chiseled beard fell precisely from his chin, flanked by equally precise sheets of beard from his cheeks. His face was slightly marred by wrinkles and the gray tint to the hair hinted at middle age. The effect was… unsettling.
"You present something of a problem for me. You are indeed a Jedi, but I have heard reports that you no longer have access to your powers," the man said, cautiously.
"He is a strange creature. I feel much of the machine about him, but there is also life… and yet no thoughts," Kreia reported, disturbed, peering intently at the man from a few centimeters away, before suddenly turning and wandering through the nearest wall.
"Sorry to disappoint," Meetra said. She realized she wasn't wearing clothes.
"Even without your powers, you might still serve my purpose," Goto shrugged. Meetra noticed that he wasn't moving in front of her. He was utterly still, having come to a stop two meters in front of her in an approximation of parade rest. He did not shift on his hips, or fidget, simply stood and stared at her. It was an oddly droid-like behavior for a human. The way he walked also reminded her of something, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
"The Republic is… broken. What has happened on Peragus has set in motion events that I can no longer control. Not to be melodramatic, but I fear it has broken the galaxy... irrevocably. This has occupied much of my attention, and there seems to be no predictable way to resolve the situation," Goto said darkly.
"The Republic will endure," Meetra said sharply.
"You are misinformed," Goto growled, "In one standard year, the Republic will collapse. Not due to war, or secession, but because it lacks the infrastructure to support itself. That was before Peragus was lost. We may have only half of that time now."
"What do you think I can do?" Meetra asked curious.
"I need a symbol. The Jedi are a symbol of the Republic, and they are all dead, or missing." Goto replied.
"Putting a bounty on Jedi seems like a poor way to support us," Meetra observed.
"It was not my first choice, but my network could not locate any Jedi. I was forced to turn to… independent contractors," Goto answered defensively.
"Couldn't those resources have been better used for infrastructure?" Meetra asked.
Goto shook his head, "That would be treating the effect, and not the cause. An untenable situation. The Republic needs hope to survive."
"The wookiee is the only other living creature aboard this ship," Kreia reported, walking back into the room through the nearest bulkhead.
Goto was still talking, and Meetra turned her attention back to her captor,
"—the Republic needs stability to survive, prosper and grow. In a word, they need hope. When people are afraid, they stop spending, and start hoarding. Commerce breaks down. Without commerce, the connections that form the Republic die. I love the Republic. It is more precious to me than life, and I will sacrifice anything to protect it."
"Then we are not enemies," Meetra observed, "I too am trying to save the Republic."
"Indeed?" Goto asked, politely curious.
"If you release me, we can work together, instead of fighting," Meetra proposed.
Goto's face frowned, "You misunderstand. I cannot simply let you go. The Republic is delicate at the moment. I cannot afford any new variables. You will do exactly as I instruct. I cannot afford you to have agency."
"If you do not, then the Jedi will die. Something hunts us, but I can kill it," Meetra warned.
Goto cocked his head, "I have reports of the devastation of Katarr. Most unusual… but I care little for the internecine conflicts of Sith and Jedi. I require a Jedi symbol, and I will have it."
((()))
Jolee stood behind Mira as she steered the Ebon Hawk, her eyes closed. His callused hands gently rested against her temples.
"Yes… that. Do you feel that string?" Jolee murmured, his eyes also closed as he walked along the bounty hunter's surface thoughts.
"Yes," she said tersely, bridling at his intrusion, but accepted it to reach her goal.
"Follow that," Jolee said softly. Bao-Dur was seated in the co-pilot's station. His hands clenched a few times as Mira wove through the orbiting satellites and ships of Nar Shadaa, her eyes still closed, but he made no move to take the auxiliary controls.
A couple of times Mira lost the thread, but Jolee deftly guided the flapping tendril back into her hands. Darkness nibbled at Jolee, but he ignored her rage. He was used to training dark siders… you just had to keep it from resonating in you. Empathy without sympathy. Confusing, but possible.
((()))
The handmaiden woke slowly, but Mical was there when she finally opened her eyes.
"Where… where is Surik?" Handmaiden asked hollowly.
"Captured, but Master Jolee is tracking her," Mical soothed.
"I failed," the girl whispered.
"And why do you believe that?" Mical asked.
"She was taken without a fight. I was useless," Handmaiden replied tonelessly.
"A gas attack. Hardly a failure on your part. Unless you both had worn your breathing masks, which there was no indication was needed," Mical observed.
"I should have anticipated it!" Handmaiden said sharply.
"You?" Mical asked sharply, taking a different tact, "Who are you?"
Handmaiden blinked, taken aback slightly.
"You mean to assume that your experience and wisdom exceed that of General Surik? A woman twice your age, who has spent half her life upon a battlefield?" Mical demanded.
Handmaiden shrunk slightly, but her silver eyes lidded and she shook her head.
"I thought not," Mical said gently, touching her shoulder softly.
"If Meetra didn't see it, there's no way you could have. It was not your fault," Mical reassured her.
"But her safety was my responsibility," Handmaiden protested, though her despair seemed to have lifted slightly.
"So it is. You are of no use like this. We go to rescue Meetra. In that endeavor, I am sure you will acquit yourself with distinction," Mical said smiling brightly.
((()))
"There. That bulk freighter," Mira said, easing back on the Ebon Hawk's throttle.
"She's there?" Jolee asked intently.
"Hanharr is," Mira answered bluntly.
Jolee nodded, staring intently at the freighter. It looked like a three hundred meter long space whale, with the fins cut off. Bridge in the front, eight blocky engines in the back. It was also old. That class of ship had almost been a relic during the Exar Kun wars. It was practically a museum piece. It had a lot of interconnected cargo bays though with exterior access that covered the areas closest to the exterior hull that doubled as a kind of ablative armor... as long as the goods inside weren't volatile. It made loading and unloading quite efficient, but there were more protected cargo bays deeper in the ship.
Jolee guessed it was still flying because it wasn't worth capturing. It would sell for little more than scrap value… and based on the sensor readings it was barely flying as it was. Three of the eight engines were dark, and only one of the five was running at anything close to full output.
It would be a right bitch to search though. Also, the bridge could simply vent a cargo bay at will…
"We'll have to take control of the bridge first, before we can search the cargo bays," Jolee mused.
"Agreed. We also need an intrusion specialist to compromise the computers. I doubt a standard slicer would be enough, if that's one of Goto's freighters," Mira warned.
"Teethree can break military encryption and planetary mainframes. If we can get him to the bridge, we'll be fine," Jolee assured Mira.
"Do you have enough environment suits?" Mira asked.
"Mmm… vent the atmosphere, you reckon?" Jolee grumbled.
"It's what I would do if I were boarded," Mira shrugged.
"I'll check. I should have three or four…" Jolee muttered as he walked out of the cockpit.
((()))
The Damorian bulk freighter shuddered. Goto studied the ship's sensors. A Dynamic-class freighter was vectoring in along the rear axis. The ship's shields had dropped to seventy percent. It appeared the much smaller stock freighter was targeting his engines.
How irritating. Goto had not intended this freighter for combat activities, beyond using the Hanharr creature to kill him and present proof (his severed head), to Vogga the Hutt. As such it lacked concealed armament, an unnecessary expense. Goto issued a new heading, to clear Nar Shadaa's gravity well, to attempt an escape to hyperspace. The Damorian freighter was much slower than a Dynamic-class freighter though.
Renovations were still ongoing, as such the ship relied on its appearance for security, rather than armaments.
Goto checked, but he did not have any spaceborne assets within range to affect this conflict. He also detected the signal from Jolee Bindo's tracker aboard the freighter. Goto retasked the manual labor droids from the staging area, and directed them towards the two external airlocks. He also assigned a third of the security droids to guard the airlocks. The rest he left to guard Hanharr's compartment. Despite the sedatives and restraints, the wookiee had nearly escaped twice in the last thirty minutes.
The rudimentary shields failed, with the ship still nearly seven minutes from safety. With weary finality Goto studied the engines as systematic turbolaser blasts severed the power linkages, leaving the freighter to drift along its heading, far enough from Nar Shadaa with sufficient momentum to escape the wisps of gravity from the moon, but no longer able to jump to hyperspace.
Goto waited patiently, for the freighter to pick port, or starboard for boarding. Instead, the freighter maneuvered around and extended its umbilical, matching course and speed, to secure across the freighter's transparisteel viewport.
It appeared Jolee Bindo had found a replacement lightsaber.
Goto retasked the droids guarding the airlocks to converge on the bridge, but it would take two minutes… and Jolee had already carved an entry into the bridge. The piloting units were not combat models and lasted only a moment. The bridge camera showed four organics in space suits, and a now familiar T3 model droid.
Goto was not surprised when the T3 unit began to subvert the security systems of the freighter, merely resigned. He did not possess sufficient assets to repel a Jedi onboard. Goto switched to his secondary plan, and began to proceed with his death at Hanharr's hands. At least one thing could be salvaged from this. It would also let him retask the security droids guarding Hanharr.
((()))
"Bao-Dur stay here with Tee three, and protect our ride. The rest of you, follow me," Jolee transmitted, moving towards the door at the back of the bridge, Meetra's cyan lightsaber humming in his gloved hand. Mira and the Echani followed as the Jedi led the way. It was awkward. Mira wasn't a team player, and it was clear that neither Jolee, nor the Echani were used to coordinating together. The corridor was packed with burly labor droids that were swinging powerful but slow arms at them, with floating black spherical security droids featuring built in blasters and shock arms mixed in. Jolee waded into them, and the Handmaiden followed a second later… which meant Mira couldn't use the ion grenade she'd just pulled from her belt.
Well. Maybe if she arced it towards the back of the group…
"Ion grenade," Mira said tersely, using the mag sling on her gauntlet to hurl the projectile through a gap among the labor droid's heads. It bounced off the chest of a droid in the back, before clattering among their feet.
"Grenade?!" Jolee sputtered. He started trying to pull back when the explosive went off, frying most of the electronics in a ten meter radius. The lights failed, as well as the gravity plating. Most of the droids also froze. Or their motivators exploded and then they froze.
"You're welcome," Mira said, shooting at the droids close enough to the group to escape the grenade blast. Jolee sabered the handful of survivors with quick, economical movements.
Mira could tell he was pissed. Guess he wasn't a very good Jedi.
"Tee three, you find Meetra yet?" Jolee asked over the suit's comlink, looking back along the corridor towards the bridge.
A utility droid squawked over the line, but apparently Mira wasn't the only one that didn't understand.
"Two beeps yes, one beep no," Jolee retorted.
There were two surly beeps.
"Show Bao-Dur. Have him tell us," Jolee ordered, cautiously prodding a labor droid with his booted foot.
"According to the computer, she is being held in internal cargo bay seven, near the aft end of the ship," Bao-Dur reported.
"Any sign of Hanharr?" Mira asked. Without the Jedi's intervention, she couldn't feel the string like she had before. She was back to lucky hunches… but that was fine. She had a good feeling that there was some vengeance in her near future. Very near.
"No," Bao-Dur answered.
Jolee walked the twenty meters back to the bridge, "Well, put the route on a datapad. Let's get this done," the Jedi said.
Mira followed along at the rear of the group, blaster tapping faintly against her thigh, keeping her eyes on the swivel, incase of ambush from any of the side passages. She doubted that if this was Goto's freighter that he'd thrown everything at them as a bottle neck. The Jedi wasn't even slowing to look at each intersection, he just kept walking quickly, eyes on the datapad. Probably was trusting to his powers to warn him of attack.
Then the Jedi stopped in front of a wall.
"Tee-three. This map is shit," Jolee complained.
"The droid claims the map is accurate," Bao-Dur reported over the comlink.
"Then why am I looking at a wall, and not a corridor?" Jolee retorted. Mira was studying the wall in question. The welding solders were still silver, and the corrugated durasteel paneling didn't match the rest of the rusted corridor.
"This looks like new construction," Mira pointed out.
"Obviously, but it's not on the map," Jolee growled.
"Well, if no one bothered to update the computer…" Mira trailed off pointedly.
"Fierfiek," Jolee sighed.
"Excuse me," Mical interrupted.
"Yes?" Jolee asked sharply.
"I may be reading the instrument panel wrong, but I believe a ship is on an intercept course with us," the medic said hesitantly from the cockpit of the Ebon Hawk.
"Disengage the umbilical, you can't raise shields while you're linked to the freighter," Mira snapped. Jolee glared at her, but didn't countermand her.
"Very well," Mical said.
A moment later he was back on the line, "How do I do that?"
Jolee wished Atton was conscious.
((()))
Goto observed as another ship approached, but was limited to the photoreceptors of a security droid, watching from a viewport. The ship appeared to be a strange cross between medium freighter and gunboat. It was heavily armed, with at least three laser turrets, and several forward facing heavy laser cannons along its avian shaped hull with forward swept wings. The ship was perhaps fifty meters long. A boarding tube latched onto the port docking ring, and within moments, the door had been compromised with an explosive charge.
Twenty men in heavy plastoid battle armor with a variety of weapons boarded his ship. Based on the insignia emblazoned on the chest plates, it appeared the Blue Suns mercenaries had attacked his ship. They were usually quite expensive to hire. Perhaps Vogga was involved. They also had a reputation of supplementing their forces with battle droids…
Intriguing.
The Blue Suns secured the air lock and adjoining corridor in moments, since there were no droids to contest them. The men took up positions, before a swarm of P-203 sensor drones flooded past from their ship, spreading out through the tangled corridors of his ship. Fifteen skeletal bipedal droids, Industrial Automata Mk3's, reinforced the Blue Sun mercenary positions. Now that was of great interest to Goto. Both the probes and the battle droids operated on a wireless network.
A network that was hardened, but Goto could subvert it, eventually.
Finally, assets he could use.
((()))
"This is taking us back around," Jolee muttered angrily, glaring at the datapad, and the corridor that was now branching to the left, instead of continuing straight.
"What are the odds that they routed anything important behind the new bulkheads? It would mean alterations to the existing power grid," Mira pointed out.
"As old as this rust bucket is, they might have had to reroute, to get power to the engines," Jolee said hesitantly.
"What's the worst that happens? We lose power?" Mira scoffed, "I don't plan on staying, do you?"
"Or something blows up," Jolee said thoughtfully, studying the newly built corridor wall, tapping the lightsaber hilt with his fingers absently.
"Contact," Bao-Dur reported.
"Two probe droids on the other side of the bulkhead," the tech reported. He was currently standing in the depressurized bridge.
"Probably from the ship Mical saw," Jolee said, "Keep your eyes peeled."
"Look, old man, we're running out of time. If they've got probe droids, they probably already have a better map than ours," Mira pointed out. The Echani shifted uncomfortably, looking between them.
"Fine," Jolee snapped, "At least stand over there," he grumbled, pointing away from the area he was going to cut.
If something exploded, there wasn't necessarily a minimum safe distance, since it depended on what exploded, but Mira didn't argue.
Jolee ignited the lightsaber and delicately pushed it into the center of the wall. Nothing happened. The Jedi carefully circled the blade out, boring a hole about the size of his head, before activating the lights on his helmet, and sticking his head into the hole, looking around.
"Don't see any power conduits… just brackets and ribbing," the old man mumbled. He pulled his head back out and cut a rough man sized oval out of the wall.
"Shall we?" he asked, using the Force to shove the plug forward, to clang against the deck.
"About time," Mira said sharply.
Mira edged into the internal cargo bay next to Jolee, staring up at the gantries the cross over them, about ten meters up. The room was empty, aside from random debris and trash from the renovations. There were scattered spools of cabling, and shredded conduit casing in the corners.
Suddenly blaster fire echoed in the fifty meter cube space, making Mira instantly duck down next to an empty cable spool. A man appeared on a gantry above them, retreating quickly, but in good order, firing his blaster as he trotted backwards. Return fire slapped into the handrails and one hit his left shoulder pauldron, making him stumble, but he didn't stop firing, until a deeper, throatier growl, and a much brighter bolt slapped through his chest and out the backplate. Disruptor.
The corpse fell slowly over the handrail, landing a few meters from Mira. The impact catapulted the plastoid helmet off, leaving bulging, staring eyes looking at Mira. She could see the symbol of two stylized blue suns on the chest plate, around the gaping burn crater.
The boarding party hunkered down amongst the construction junk, but whatever had killed the man did not appear on the gantry above.
"We need to hurry," Mira told Jolee, with the helmet com on minimal broadcast power.
"I'm trying to pick up the pace," Jolee growled.
"That man was from the Blue Suns, they're tough. Not mando tough, but close. If someone else is killing them, I don't want to run into either of them," Mira retorted.
The group cautiously skirted through the cargo room, into the next corridor.
((()))
Goto moved quickly through the halls of his ship. Hostiles were pressing hard against the security droids, as well as the assets seized from the Blue Suns. The convoluted nature of the freighter's reconstruction was helping, as the layout was quite confusing, with system functionality or cost saving measures prioritized, and no regard to ease of physical navigation. With the intervention of the Blue Suns, he might be able to salvage the situation. Several spaceborne assets were enroute, but Goto was uncertain they would be able to counter the Blue Suns' vessel. He might be able to relocate the captured Jedi though, to continue the mission. Goto paused, waiting as a particularly stubborn mercenary was dislodged from his position in Goto's path by a swarm of probe droids mixed with a flanking attack of two battle droids and a trio of security droids. Goto resumed his journey, stepping around the corner and over the newly charred corpse. Goto was a creature of statistics, probabilities, and timetables. He could make the numbers dance, but only if he possessed knowledge of the numbers.
Goto retasked his escorts to a delaying action, before he stepped alone into the holding area that held the angry wookiee in a laser cage.
"Hanharr. My name is Goto," he said quickly, putting a quaver into his voice.
The predator tilted his head, no doubt sensing weakness.
"I wish to propose a deal," Goto pressed on.
[What deal?] the wookiee growled.
"I will pay you ten thousand credits to convey me to Nar Shadaa. Do we have a deal?" Goto demanded quickly.
The wookiee tilted his head.
[Agreed]
Goto moved to the controls for the laser cage and hastily deactivated the barrier. The bars had barely faded before Goto was slammed against a wall.
[But ten thousand is not enough to bring all of you to Nar Shadaa…] the wookiee snarled. Then Goto felt his head wrenched from his neck.
((()))
Mira focused tightly on the strange spot in the back of her head, which the Jedi had shown her existed. His meddling had helped to illuminate the edges of the invisible shape. She knew it was there, but she couldn't quite use it. Not like he had. However, the bounty hunter could feel that soon she would have a chance at her revenge. There was another reason she had agreed to space suits. They locked in the wearer's scent.
Hanharr wouldn't be able to smell or hear (her voice).
He didn't know he was being hunted by Mira.
Mira clung to the hunger for revenge in her chest, and felt a corresponding flicker of premonition. She felt it might be a good idea to go left, at this junction.
She glanced at the Echani and Jedi for a moment, but didn't argue with the feeling. Silently, the woman slipped down the left corridor, as the others continued on straight. She kept track of her turns using the skills learned on Nar Shadaa, as well as her retinal implants. Best two thousand credits she'd ever spent.
Soon.
((()))
It's time, they are close, Kreia whispered.
Meetra nodded groggily, and yanked against her restraints. The two floating security droids turned to face her, floating closer, and the stun arms began to glow warningly. She could feel the band around her head burn, and her mind went blank. Kreia however, was not affected. She used the influx of energy, converting it into crude telekinesis, to fracture the 13éjà13alline matrix of the circuitry. The effort exhausted the shade, but she did not have time to rest.
Meetra blinked back to awareness without the neural disruptor, eyes locking on the nearest of the shock rods. The droid lurched forward, burying the stun rod into her shoulder. Meetra screamed, as Kreia helped her channel the burning energy into power, letting the electricity flood out of her body, frying the restraints on her wrists and ankles.
It hurt horribly, but the locks clicked open.
Meetra snarled and wrapped one hand around the electrified rod, with the index finger pointed at the second droid. A tongue of lightning shot from her finger and into the second droid. It wasn't enough to kill it, but the charge definitely damaged some systems, mostly the anti-grav that kept the black ball floating. It wobbled and crashed to the
deck on its side, sending out a harsh buzzing noise that was most likely binary.
Meetra glared at the droid she was holding, clutching her aching hand tighter and not letting go as the droid tried to retreat, letting it half drag her out of the chair on numb limbs. Meetra pulled more power through the rod even as the droid struggled to charge the capacitors with its internal power supply, for another discharge. With the sudden burning energy held painfully in her mind, the woman placed her right hand over the largest optical cluster and shoved the power back out, frying the droid's CPU. It clanged to the deck, nearly crushing her bare toes.
Meetra felt a wave of weariness from Kreia, and a silent apology, as the spirit reached the limits of its endurance. The Jedi eyed the small room critically, but it lacked tools for her to use.
Except the Force, my student, Kreia murmured, amused.
Meetra studied the thick door, but it wasn't a security model, just a basic hatch. If she had a fusion cutter, she could have severed the emergency release... here.
She could see it in her mind's eye, how the mechanism would look, hidden within the door.
If you can see it, then I will see it done, the shade promised.
Meetra visualized, precisely, the interlocking parts of the mechanism, and saw them moving, parting, releasing. Meetra heard a heavy click from the hatch her hands rested against.
It is done, and quite deftly. My thanks, the shade whispered, before falling silent. Meetra felt that the silence was also marked by absence. Kreia was spent.
Meetra felt a slight flash of 14éjàI, as she walked (more naked than before) through dimly lit corridors filled with lurking droids. She hoped she found clothes soon, it was cold.
((()))
"I think we're close," Jolee observed. The bounty hunter was gone, off chasing something with murderous intent. Jolee didn't mind terribly. One less person to babysit.
"What makes you think that?" the Echani asked flatly.
"Well, the Future just told me some droids were going to jump us," Jolee said, pointing at a hatch to the left.
There was a conspicuous lack of droids.
"So she's probably on the loose somewhere," Jolee sighed.
Jolee resumed walking, lightsaber humming in his hand, although he did switch his helmet speaker to external transmission, and started calling for Choy Verdan.
A few mercenaries popped out of cover along the way at the calls, but apparently didn't want anything to do with a Jedi, and promptly withdrew.
And they said there wasn't any hope for the younger generations...
Several blaster shots in rapid succession sounded down the corridor, but Jolee picked up his pace. He couldn't feel anyone down that way, and he doubted the droids were shooting each other.
If they were, that was good too.
((()))
Mira waited in the hanger that held Hanharr's ship. He would come this way. It was his ship, he didn't let go of things that were his. Neither did Mira. She was currently hanging by a bracket limply, with an excellent view of the only approach to the hangerbay doors. She looked like an empty enviro suit, just like the other two hanging next to her, although her suit looked just as old, it was at least complete. She'd only been waiting about ten minutes before the hanger airlock cycled noisily, and a shadow shape from her nightmares stalked into sight. She could feel her heart begin to race, but as the fear began to fill her she focused on the empty pit beneath her sternum, where Vossk's death lurked. She used that pain to focus the adrenaline.
She was terrified yes. But she was pissed more.
Hanharr hesitated outside the hatch to his ship, claws hovering over the keypad. Mira waited patiently, motionlessly in her suit. The hominid suspiciously looked around, nostrils flaring as he scented the stale air. Mira didn't know what might have tipped him off. Her scent was masked within the suit. She also didn't really care. The adhesive grenade hidden among the debris near Hanharr's feet went off, securing the monster's lower legs to the deck. As the slaver howled and furiously clawed at the stiffening strands of glue, Mira struck: with moves made deliberate by the slightly clumsy gloves, Mira activated and threw an incendiary charge which popped off against Hanharr's hairy back. She'd modified the loadout to a minimal amount. She wanted to maim, not outright kill. The greasy hair caught fire almost instantly. The flames spread rapidly, leaving the slaver writhing helplessly, his basso growls rising to falsetto shrieks of agony.
Mira cracked the seal on her helmet, tossing it aside. Breathing deep the reek of scorched flesh and hair.
He needed to know who had killed him.
Vossk deserved that much.
Mira fired the plasma caster with nearly surgical precision, atomizing Hanharr's flailing left arm below the elbow. Hanharr howled, blindly throwing up his right arm as a futile shield. Mira stalked to the side until she had a clean shot which also gave the capacitor time to recharge, blowing that arm off as well without hitting Hanharr's chest. It was the only way she trusted to disarm such a monster.
"I know you can hear me, Hanharr," Mira called mockingly. The monster whimpered softly, blindly tracking her by sound or scent. She stayed back five meters. Hanharr still had fangs, even if he was glued to the deck. Mira wasn't stupid.
She'd chosen fire, because she knew he was terrified of burning again. It also had a terrible symmetry. They had been here before, three years ago. She had spared him then, seeing only a broken thing, groveling, straining for breath with fire scorched lungs.
But mostly, she wanted him to hurt, like he had hurt her, yet again.
She never realized just how much she cared about some people, until they were ripped from her.
"Goodbye, Hanharr," Mira said softly.
Hanharr howled, straining towards her.
Mira popped her last adhesive grenade and threw it. The adhesive gel pulsed over Hanharr's snout, filling his mouth and nostrils, cutting off his air. It also muffled his screams. Mira stalked closer, to watch the panic and life leave Hanharr's blinded eyes.
The dead monster sagged to the deck. Mira drew her second father's knife.
One last task, due to her third father.
((()))
This was not going well, Meetra decided. She had found a dead man in plastoid armor. He had been armed with a blaster rifle, but it had been ruined by the same blast that had killed the man. He had a blaster in a leg holster, but the powercells on his belt were meant for the rifle. Before she could try to scavenge some clothing though, she had been forced to flee from several security and probe droids. The blaster in her hand was pulsing gently, indicating that the power pack was close to empty, but since it wasn't her blaster, she didn't know how many shots close to empty actually encompassed.
A probe droid whipped around the corner ahead of her, and the Jedi/mechanic fired. Her first shot missed, but the second connected, blowing the probe apart in a shower of metal and plastics. The blaster also stopped pulsing.
Empty.
Clanking filled the hallway, and Meetra looked for a place to run, but she heard the crackling of a lightsaber, as well as a diffuse glow ahead of her and darting shadows.
Jolee?
Meetra hastily darted to the corner of the intersection ahead of her on silent bare feet, before cautiously peeking around the corner. Two people in environment suits were wading through six bipedal combat droids, the vanguard bore a cyan lightsaber, with the rearguard using a shock staff to finish off distracted droids. It had to be Jolee and Handmaiden. Meetra felt the ball of worry and guilt she'd had for the teenager's safety unravel into relief. A few seconds later the droids were dismantled, and Meetra stepped out into view, only slightly hesitant by her nakedness.
"Ah… I knew it. Tied you to a chair, right?" the man with the lightsaber asked. It sounded like Jolee, but the lightsaber was making the view plate reflective and act like a mirror in the gloom.
"I hope you brought clothes," Meetra said shortly.
"Of course, my dear," the man chuckled, gesturing to Handmaiden, and the bundle strapped to her back.
"Handmaiden, are you alright?" Meetra asked worried.
"I am well enough to fight," the teenager responded stubbornly.
"Mira. We found her, heading back to the ship," Jolee said into his helmet comlink.
There was a delay, before Mira responded, "I'll meet you there, I'm almost done here."
((()))
Jolee piloted the Ebon Hawk hastily away from the stricken ship. Other vultures were starting to circle, guessing that the worthless hulk might actually carry something valuable. As Jolee flew, he ruminated into his beard.
"Mira… how lucky do you feel?" he asked suddenly.
"About what?" Mira asked cautiously.
"Well, I didn't want to mention it before we found Meetra but… what do you think the odds of walking into our missing Jedi might be?"
"Not good," Mira said flatly.
"Okay…" Jolee poked at Mira's mind when he mentioned Zez, latching onto her memories of the man, and amplifying both them, and her connection to the Force.
Mira glared at Jolee, "Really good now,"
"Terrific!" Jolee said.
"Do that again, and you'll find a frag grenade in your pillow," Mira said coldly.
She was serious too.
"Of course my dear, one time only, I promise," Jolee said hastily as he transferred flight control to Mira's station.
Shrapnel to the brain was not how he wanted to go out.
Twenty minutes later, they found the impossible to find Jedi. He was running across a roof for some reason.
The Force was funny that way.
((()))
Meetra clutched the safety handle inside the Ebon Hawk's airlock, and leaned out, her hand outstretched.
"Zez!" she screamed over the sound of the Ebon Hawk's back draft. The man looked up, his face melting with relief.
"Jump!" Meetra shouted. The distance was five meters, no great feat for a Jedi, but he balked.
"The fool will not use his power," Kreia observed in Meetra's ear. The door to the roof flared as a pair of red lightsabers began carving through it. Zez didn't seem to notice.
"Jump, damn you!" Meetra snarled. Jolee couldn't get any closer because of the wires and cables strung between the two taller buildings.
A wrist grapple shot past Meetra, startling her, to impact cleanly next to Zez's feet, but the claws did not extend.
"I got this," Mira said tersely, wrapping her elbow through a second safety handle. The Jedi Master hastily snatched up the line and wrapped it around his arm. Mira took in the slack, as the Jedi slowly stepped up onto the edge of the building, waiting for the line to grow taut before he stepped off, to avoid jerking Mira. The door failed at the same time Zez stepped into the air.
"Jolee back us off!" Meetra shouted into her comlink. A skeletal humanoid draped in tattered rags charged across the rooftop, lightsabers humming. Mira grunted as the ship moved back, swinging Zez out pendulously as she grimly retracted the piton, motor whirring in protest.
Meetra dropped her comlink and yanked the blaster from Mira's thigh. The bounty hunter flinched for a moment, but was busy with Zez and couldn't effectively resist. Meetra leveled the heavy blaster and fired at the charging shape, trying to buy time. The bolt hit the attacker in the leg, making it stumble.
It didn't deflect?
"What are you shooting at?" Mira demanded angrily.
They can't see it, Meetra realized.
Then the rag creature vaulted towards the retreating ship. Meetra fired frantically. Most of the shots missed. One hit a shoulder, another hit a hand causing that lightsaber to tumble free, tracing a brilliant path into the darkness below.
Then it was in the air lock. Meetra watched time slow, her eyes fixed on the red blade spearing towards her guts. She felt her training with Handmaiden click into play, turning her hips enough that the blade hissed past her to bury itself into the housing for the inner airlock, her hand locked around a startlingly thin wrist, and she cocked her elbow back, striking her target across the jaw. The blow rocked her enemy back, and Meetra grabbed the lightsaber hilt with her free hand, wrestling for control of the weapon. She felt something break in her grasp, possibly the assailant's wrist bones, but the lightsaber was now firmly in Meetra's hand alone. The ex-Jedi hastily hit the activation stud lest she do more damage to ship or crew in the tight confines. Mira was still helpless beside the attacker, only a few centimeters separated them… but the creature ignored her. The hooded cloak was filled with darkness, but Meetra felt certain the thing was looking for her as it panned back and forth. Bao-Dur barreled down the corridor from the main hold, but Meetra didn't think he could see anything either.
The monster stepped forward, and sent a burst of Force lightning towards her with a flopping wrist. Bao-Dur cursed in surprise, as his arm sparked in the deluge.
Meetra felt her hair rise, but the energy flicked across her skin without stopping, ignoring her, but the lightsaber grew painfully hot and Meetra tossed it aside. However the hood suddenly turned to face directly at her.
It can't see me… but it can see where the lightning isn't.
The lightning ceased and the creature lunged towards Meetra, hands outstretched.
Meetra grabbed the thing by the chest and slammed it into the corridor wall. It didn't weigh much. Two hands clamped onto the sides of her face, and the monster kissed her.
The world exploded with pain as Meetra's vision flickered, merging into a vortex of seething shapes and surfaces. The creature before her was a swirling mass of black and red just a shade brighter than black, with flecks of other colors, in the shape of a humanoid. Another shape that seemed like Bao-Dur, though without an arm, was made of similar seething colors… but Meetra could not see her own hands. The colors left the monster in a sudden rush, leaving flickers behind, as it crumpled to the deck.
((()))
The Tongue was confused. Hunger had established the connection for Hunger to feed, but… she did not know where he was. The thoughts and memories, commands that had filled her mind were gone. She… she did not know what to do. She waited for the control to resume, but her mind remained empty.
Hunger was gone. The maelstrom of clutching needs and desires… gone?
Gone?
The Tongue waited to be told what to do. Everything was so silent.
She felt nothing around her. Emptiness. Silence.
The Tongue tentatively began to feel something. Curiosity.
She faintly wondered where she was.
She flinched, but there was no answering ocean to swamp her sudden thought.
The Tongue knew she had been used by Hunger to find something. Something that she could not See. She remembered the final moment before Hunger had left her. The rage had become something else in that moment.
Terror.
The Tongue considered this warily. What did the End of All Life fear?
She did not know.
The Tongue was tired though.
The silence was a soothing balm to the ravaged mind. Perhaps… perhaps she could wait here? Until Hunger came back?
((()))
"Where the hell did that thing come from?" Bao-Dur demanded, staring down at the apparently now visible creature. Mira staggered into view, dragging Zez into the ship and closing the outer air-lock. The inner air lock would need substantial repairs before it would ever close again, Meetra decided.
"I think it was using the Force to hide," Meetra guessed.
"But you could see it?" Mira asked suspiciously.
"Yes," Meetra answered flatly.
"Did you kill it?" Zez asked cautiously.
"I don't know. It kissed me and then… it just collapsed," Meetra said, nonplussed, though she was glad her vision had returned to normal (mostly), except for faint flickers around people.
Mira leveled her blaster on the fallen shape. Cautiously Meetra touch the mound of black and maroon rags. The creature seemed much smaller now, as Meetra felt skeletal arms, and bony shoulders. She pulled the hood back, revealing a sunken pale face, so starved gender was difficult to tell, with a black strip tied across the eyes. Wisps of tattered, colorless hair still clung to the skull. Meetra tugged on the blind fold, revealing no eyes, just scar tissue.
"I think… it may be a Miraluka, from Katarr," Zez mused, leaning in to study the revealed humanoid.
"Perhaps not all were killed in the attack. Some may have been turned to other purposes," Kreia muttered.
Meetra stared at the pitiful bag of bones and flesh, barely alive by any definition.
It was broken.
Meetra crouched and carefully pulled the creature into her arms. It weighed so little.
"General. Is that wise?" Bao-Dur growled anxiously, his mechanical fist tightening.
"Get me Jolee. We need answers. A corpse can't tell as anything," Meetra replied coolly.
"A corpse can't kill us either," Mira pointed out coldly.
"Do you have anything onboard that can restrain a Force user?" Zez asked warily.
"Just me," Meetra said tiredly.
((()))
Mical looked up from Atton's sedated body as Meetra entered the small medbay. It was cramped with the woman and child sitting next to Atton.
"Oh my," Mical said, catching sight of the intruder's starved face.
"Is Atton stable enough to move?" Meetra asked.
"Certainly. None of the injuries were severe, it was the quantity that was an issue," Mical said promptly.
"Bao-Dur, please carry Atton to his bunk," Meetra ordered.
The tech gritted his teeth, but did as Surik commanded. She knew he would return quickly though, to keep a baleful eye on her prisoner.
"Please go with Atton," Meetra told the woman and child. They meekly followed Bao-Dur.
Meetra gently placed the Miraluka on the medical bed. Mical pulled out his medical scanner and began his examination.
"Severe malnutrition and electrolyte imbalances… for months, possibly years. Recent thermal injury to right shoulder. Spiral fracture of left distal radial head…" Mical trailed off, frowning at the scanner's display.
"What's wrong?" Meetra asked.
Mical glanced up at her distractedly, then placed the scanner on the bed, reaching over to search the strips of cloth, to spread them aside and bare the Miraluka's pale chest. It was definitely a her, though the skin of the breasts was sunken into the ribcage. At first, Meetra didn't know what had concerned the medic, but after a moment she began to see the faint tracings of scar tissue, which was just as pale white as the flaky skin, but with oblique lighting from a glowrod, the faint shadows of raised tissue stood out in stark relief. She was covered in scars. Covered.
"I'm not sure how she's still alive. There's so much old damage it's hard to make out new damage. Many of her bones have broken, and healed improperly, or are in stages of improper healing," Mical said, sounding overwhelmed. Meetra could see lumps and divots in the chest from improperly healed ribs.
"Well, what about starting a nutrition drip?" Meetra asked.
"If I have to do surgery that could be a liability," Mical explained, daunted.
"If she hasn't died yet, I still think nutrition is still the highest need of her body," Meetra said slowly.
((()))
Visquis bowed before the Hutt (politely). The two Ubese bounty hunters that had brought Visquis Goto's head had escorted escorted him to this meeting in exchange for a promise of greater pay. He wasn't stupid. Vogga had not come alone to the warehouse, reclining on his hoversled, at least a dozen guards of various species and caliber were arranged about him. The sled most likely also boasted a personal shield as well, for Vogga to agree to such a face-to-face meeting so easily.
"Your Excellency, I thank you for this opportunity to meet, and resolve our… differences," Visquis said smoothly. The protocol droid translated his words into Huttese.
Vogga's bulbous eyes blinked sluggishly, unimpressed. The quarren though was not fooled. However indolent the Hutt appeared, his mind was no doubt scrutinizing every word spoken for traps and hidden meaning.
"You promised me Goto's head. Show me this treasure," Vogga rumbled.
"As you said. Goto's head, in my hand," Visquis agreed, turning to the cryo storage cask beside him. He broke the refrigerated seal, and reach inside, flinching a little from the chill as he pulled out the object within.
Vogga stared greedily at the slack jawed head of Goto. The beard was singed on one side, but the neck stump was cleanly cut, though the blood had frozen sickeningly.
Visquis stepped forward, holding the head up in offering to the twi'lek majordomo. The nervous alien had a hand scanner which he used to verify the head was not dangerous or trapped.
"No," Vogga barked as the man raised his hands to take the head.
"I want it," Vogga snarled, pudgy arms reaching out. Visquis did not miss that a thick finger tapped something on the control arm of the sled.
The Quarren instead changed his approach, and stopped before the hoversled. Vogga lovingly picked up the vile thing from Visquis's hands, fondling the severed head.
"This will not grace my treasure vault. No… I wish to see you at all hours of the day. When my eyes grow weary, I will simply look up and draw new strength from the sight of your failure, Goto," the Hutt rumbled.
So… Vogga intended to display the head in his audience chamber. Typical.
"Now that I have fulfilled my end of our bargain, perhaps a new relationship between our organizations could be discussed?" Visquis asked smoothly.
The Hutt boomed a hearty laugh, blasting Visquis with an unfortunate miasma of Hutt breath. The Quarren stood his ground and kept his facial tentacles from spasming through force of will.
"Why should I not crush your Exchange?"
Visquis did not blink, "It was not our will to so openly attack a Hutt, but Goto's madness. We have dealt with him for you, and wish to resume pursing profits, instead of this fruitless conflict," Visquis replied.
"Regardless, we have both lost considerable profits in this conflict. Would it not be wiser to return to growing our interests once more, before a competitor took advantage of our mutual weakness?"
The Hutt stared at Visquis for several long seconds. A Hutt would eat anything it could get into its mouth. The trick was to either seem unpalatable or too big to eat. Nothing else would dissuade the greedy creatures.
"HO HO HO…" Vogga rumbled.
"Agreed. Our feud is complete," the slug agreed.
"All that remains is our payment," Visquis agreed. At this the Hutt's lip began to tremble with rage, but Visquis ignored it. Not asking for the bounty on Goto's head would not be viewed charitably by the slug, but simply seen as weakness.
As much as Hutt's hated losing credits, they viewed breech of contract (even in their favor) with great distrust and disdain. Cheating someone out of product while still fulfilling the letter of the contract was perfectly admissible, and expected.
Vogga scowled, his meaty arm hitting his majordomo quite forcefully, but the smaller alien recovered from the blow and stepped forward holding a data pad.
"The credits are being held in this account," Vogga snapped grudgingly.
"Thank you, your Excellency," Visquis took the pad and gave it a cursory inspection, verifying the contents, before bowing and backing away to his guards.
Likewise the Hutt retreated on his hover sled, business concluded.
Visquis returned to the Jekk Jekk'Tarr and slipped into his private pool, to sooth his nerves. Years of strain and apprehension began to slip from his narrow shoulders. With Goto gone, he could focus on building the Exchange up properly again. Goto had been too frivolous with their funds, sinking credits into the stock exchange for nebulous gains.
He would have to begin untangling Goto's finances, and begin consolidating or selling off shares as needed, to expand the organization. They needed bribes, not portfolio.
"I trust the meeting with Vogga went well?" a dry voice asked, sending terror though Visquis in a spasm.
"Goto?" Visquis yelped, splashing upright.
A holoprojector in the ceiling was transmitting the image of the kingpin sitting in one of Visquis's poolside chairs.
"I am surprised. Was this not part of the plan? I assume Vogga was fooled by the simulacrum?" Goto asked politely.
"Y-yes, indeed," Visquis stuttered, his hopes crumbling.
"Excellent. Fear not, Visquis of Dac has succeeded Goto as the Boss of the Exchange on Nar Shadaa," Goto told the Quarren condescendingly.
"And he will remain so. A succession crises would be tedious, after all the work I spent smoothing this transition," Goto revealed.
Visquis relaxed slightly. So he was to be a puppet. Better that than dead, he supposed.
The hologram in the chair flickered, becoming a familiar Quarren.
"I hope you take some solace in that," the holographic Visquis said.
Electricity flooded through the pool before Visquis could even blink in horror.
((()))
Meetra wasn't sure how, but she thought the woman was awake. She didn't have eyelids, or eyes, and hadn't moved… but the ex-Jedi knew she was awake. Handmaiden watched suspiciously, shock staff ready to jab.
"Can you understand me?" Meetra asked.
"Y-es?" the woman painfully rasped with vocal cords that had not been used in years.
"Why did you attack me?" Meetra asked.
"He… told me. To."
"Who?" Jolee demanded intently.
"He. Is. Hun-ger. Al-ways," the woman said helplessly.
"Where is he?" Jolee asked sharply.
"Gone. Not here?" the woman said faintly.
"I can't tell if she's lying," Jolee said flatly.
"I'd advise against using the Force to find out," Zez said, "If she's able to kill us through the Force."
Jolee rolled his eyes. Like he couldn't be trusted not to stick something metal into a power receptacle.
"Tell me. What. To do?" the woman asked Meetra hopefully.
"You may have broken the monster's hold on this poor creature, but it has no more free will than a severed hand," Kreia remarked tightly.
I refuse to believe that, Meetra scolded the shade.
"Believe whatever you wish, but this woman has been hollowed out, to serve as a receptacle for another's will. It's just a shell. A potentially dangerous shell," Kreia warned.
"Please?" the woman begged.
As Meetra stared at the woman, she realized that she could feel her. Like an itch at the base of her brain.
"But of course. It is your hand in the puppet now," Kreia sneered, "But you cannot manumit your newest appendage. Would you grant freedom to your finger? Or foot?"
Meetra felt for the itch, and gently touched it. She saw the woman shudder on the bio bed, leaning forward eagerly against the restraints.
Something small and sad fluttered frantically against the fingers of her mental hand. Meetra had never been able to turn away from such a cry.
The Tongue felt something stir, as she was touched again. It wasn't Hunger, but it told her what to do, what to be. The void began to take shape around her. Silent halls of thought, and will. An entire planet of pain was wrapped in perfect, unchanging detail. The End of All Life consumed power, but could not keep it. It always bled free. But this edifice remained as powerful as the day it was formed. It did not spill beyond its channels, to consume others with ravening silence.
The Tongue marveled at the perfection, winding through the labyrinth, to the heart, where she was called, to the being that had created such a miracle. Hunger was a tidal wave that silenced everything beneath its own cacophony. But this… this whisper was silence.
At last, the Tongue could See what made the End of All Life flee: her new master.
The End of All Things.
And she was beautiful.