Zez-Kai Ell knelt among the potted crops, adjusting the misting rig over the green fronds. Corellian dune tubers required a very specific moisture ratio to their soil, as well as a very narrow pH range. Fortunately, they enjoyed a pH of 6… which was usually what human urine was, and readily available in the Refugee sector. The tubers were fast growing and nutritious, which more than compensated for their finicky growth requirements.
He found the presence of the plants soothing to his senses, even though he had turned his back on his powers a year ago. His lightsaber was also somewhere in the undercity of Nar Shadaa, where he'd thrown it off a walkway.
Zez had watched Meetra Surik move among the refugees from a safe distance, studying her actions. She had changed in some ways, but not others. Even bereft of power, she had learned new skills to help others. She had never been able to stand by.
But Zez could not trust his own council. He wished the thoughts of another to balance out his perceptions. Mira was hard, but had a neutral perception of others. She did not attribute things she wished to see in others, only what she actually saw.
He did not know if possibly she was the foe that hunted the Jedi. But… there was something wrong with the Jedi. Some fundamental flaw in their teachings, and it frightened Zez, because he could not see it. This thought nagged at him relentlessly. In some ways, he was not sure if it would not be better for the Jedi to fade away. The Force was eternal, and with time, a new tradition of Force users would rise up. Perhaps one better suited to understanding the will of the Force. Zez had turned from his power because of this fear. He could not trust himself to truly obey the will of the Force. He could not trust his own objectivity.
Here, Zez could still do good, as a man. Much as Meetra did. The ex Jedi was distracted from his musing by a strange sight. The hazy mist of water was undulating, as if from the passage of an invisible object, moving across the room towards him. Then Zez smelled ozone. A smell he remembered.
Lightsaber.
Curious that he could not hear the lightsaber. The Force weakly tugged at him but Zez ignored it. He would live or die as a man. Not a Jedi.
((()))
Visquis studied the report on his terminal. He was Goto's second in command of the Y'toub system's Exchange. It was perhaps the most dangerous branch, and most rewarding. The Hutt kajidics did not tolerate outside interests lightly…. But a delicate balance could be woven by infringing on only certain Kajidics, to gain support from competing Hutt interests. It was a nebulous, shifting game, and the Exchange was not the dominant partner here. Elsewhere, yes, but not in the heart of Hutt territory.
He missed Dac (known as Mon Cala to offworlders). There were no true oceans on Nal Hutta or Nar Shadaa. He had built a retaining pool in his club, the Jekk'Jekk Tarr, but could never get the salt balance quite right, and no matter how much he spent on imported plants, no species survived for long in the pool he'd built. It was too small for a natural self-sustaining filtration setup of plants and animals, so artificial filtration had to be used.
No matter how homesick Visquis was though the credits were here. He had not visited his home world in over a decade, he couldn't afford the time away. He had no underlings he trusted enough not to knife him in the back.
A holoprojector whined to life, startling the old Quarren.
"Visquis," Goto's hologram said coldly.
[Yes?] Visquis asked.
"Vogga has tripled the price on my head, with the failure of obtaining pirate escorts for his shipping fleet. I project that his profits have been cut to only thirty-seven percent of last year's gross."
Visquis nodded wearily. He was not sure why Goto was playing such a dangerous game. If they weakened Vogga too much, other Hutts, even rivals, would become nervous and crush the Exchange, it was too much of a risk, without a clear reward.
[Sir, we should be cautious. Yoruba the Hutt has made several overtures of peace with Vogga, suggesting an alliance. Perhaps we should let Vogga recover, lest he become desperate?] Visquis suggested.
Goto frowned, looking off into the distance.
"No… not yet. Vogga is stubborn, and prideful. He will not court with Yoruba in good faith, and both are aware of this. At the moment any alliance risks Vogga's assets being seized by Yoruba. It is almost time, I think, for my death, and your ascension. How has your overtures of disloyalty to Vogga been received?"
Visquis shrugged, [Vogga is cautious. He will not believe I intend to betray you for the bounty until your head is in my hand]
"Unfortunate. He would not be convinced by the destruction of a ship with me aboard?" Goto asked.
[He was quite specific. He wants your head. It is even stipulated in the bounty contract.]
Goto scowled, "I will have to have a simulacrum made. How tedious."
[Also, there have been several inquiries about the Jedi bounty. I say again though, our branch does not have two million credits to spare, as the other bosses have not agreed to this bounty. Can we not dispense with the posting?] Visquis asked.
"No, as I have told you before. This bounty is critical to my future plans. The credits are of no consequence in the long term."
The hologram flickered and faded, leaving Visquis to stare in frustration at the monthly income report. The Y'toub system Exchange branch didn't have 2 million credits. Not without gutting several franchises that would be expensive and tedious to restore, and if they did, the other sector Bosses would be quick to pounce.
((()))
"Are you coming?" Choy asked curious. Jolee pulled the hood on over his head, cautiously. He missed his terentatek robe, but in some ways, the blaster riding on his hip was more comforting than a lightsaber. It was a nuisance to use lightsabers, they just marked you as a target now. But a blaster… people still respected those.
"So… if I were Zez-Kai Ell… I'd know you were here," Jolee observed.
"How? I thought I was invisible to the Force," Choy said.
"Oh, you are, but you blot out the future too. I can't see anything real next to you," Jolee sighed.
"What do you mean?" Choy asked, curious.
"Well… for example, the future is telling me that there is a very good chance that Mical is going to walk past in… five, four, three, two… one…" Jolee trailed off, looking pointedly at the port entrance to the main hold.
The seconds dragged on. No Mical.
"I told him to get ready to come with us to the refugee sector," Choy said, nonplussed.
"Exactly. He's still in the medbay, fretting over what to bring. I can sense him there, but I can also sense that Future Mical is busy trying to reorganize his supplies, or at least, the future Mical that I can see who wasn't told to get ready to leave," Jolee explained, "It's very disconcerting."
"So… if I were to order a fleet to go to a planet… what would you see?" Choy asked with an edge of excitement.
"Probably whatever the fleet should have been doing without the order," Jolee supposed.
"How long before what they're actually doing would start to register?" Choy asked, closing with Jolee, intent.
"I'm not sure. Hours at least. Also, I'm not the best at seeing all the future variables. Revan's a lot better than me… and whatever we're hunting might be better than all of us combined, and if someone on that fleet decided to shoot a blaster at me, I would feel the attack coming in real time, it just wouldn't match my predictions," Jolee cautioned.
At the mention of Revan's name, Choy's face shut down like a blast door.
"I'm sorry, my dear. Sensitive subject?" Jolee asked softly.
"Just… a lot of memories," Choy whispered.
Jolee nodded, "Ghosts are the hardest thing to run from."
Jolee had been running for years, but his wife always found him in his dreams.
Mical clattered into the main hold, "Sorry for the wait, I'm ready," he said.
"Handmaiden!" Choy called, heading for the ramp.
"Here, Verdan," the pale teenager said, appearing next to the boarding ramp.
"As I was saying though… if I were Zez, and I had already met you, I would know you're here," Jolee grumbled.
"So why hasn't he approached us?" Choy asked.
"Scared pissless, probably," Jolee sighed.
"Why?" Choy asked sharply.
"Well, you were my best guess for what was killing Jedi, remember? You're probably at the top of his list too," Jolee observed.
"Wonderful," Choy growled.
((()))
Visquis studied the information carefully. Jolee Bindo's implanted tracking device led to his old ship, the Ebon Hawk. His agents had reported on the crew, and most of them had been identified. As for their goals… they seemed to be spending a lot of time in the Refugee Sector. Those willing to talk had shared a picture with his agents. More importantly, one of the Serroco veterans had reported that his leader had aided a woman whose actual identity was Meetra Surik, a former Jedi.
Goto had long suspected a Jedi was lurking among the Refugees, and had placed orders to increase the suffering among them, in the belief that a Jedi would not be able to overlook such injustice, but none had appeared to combat the Exchange.
This Meetra Surik though… was clearly looking for someone, probably a Jedi. After a few minutes of searching manually through a roster of faces, the quarren tentatively identified the picture as Master Zez-Kai Ell of the Jedi Council.
An idea occurred to the old quarren, making his facial tentacles twitch thoughtfully. If so… it would have to be handled carefully. Very carefully… or else Goto would kill him.
Visquis activated the comlink built into his terminal. After several minutes, a muted growl erupted from the panel.
[What do you want?] the translation circuit supplied.
Visquis scowled, [Hanharr, I have a business proposition for you. Meet me at my club, the Jekk'Jekk Tarr, to discuss it, in the next hour].
[Does it involve Mira?] the alien hissed.
[Yes,] Visquis lied, tired of the alien's obsession.
[I will come] the monster promised.
Visquis was not looking forward to calming the crazed beast, but hopefully, the credits for Goto's head that Vogga was offering would assuage the beast… even if it would be in a roundabout way.
((()))
Mira studied the wrecked plants carefully. The cut edges of the plants were cauterized, and something had made a mess of the waste reclamation chute. Plants were toppled everywhere, with foul water and soil spilling under foot. She only saw two sets of footprints. One was smaller than the other, and seemed to be the aggressor, since they overlapped most of the larger prints, indicating they had been made afterwards, in the act of pursuit. No blaster marks or scoring though. No blood either, but someone had definitely fallen in the back corner, based on the mess and the muddle of feet and handprints in the scattered soil, but something had scoured away the debris from around the waste chute, like a concussion grenade, or blast from a repulsor lift, obliterating any hints of what had happened in the final moments. But the small prints did emerge from the area, headed to the door, and left. She couldn't tell if the prints were deeper, since it was just mud on a metal deck… but it might have been carrying Kaille.
Looked like someone had figured out he was a Jedi.
Well… ossik.
((()))
Meetra's comlink beeped, and she pulled it out, distracted.
"Sir. A messenger drone arrived at the ship, with a message keyed to you," Bao-Dur reported tightly.
"Really?" Choy asked, placing a finger to hold the wires of the lighting panel in place.
"Could it be from the person we're looking for?" Choy asked.
"Possibly. It's addressed to your old name," Bao-Dur said heavily. Choy felt her heart skip for a second with excitement.
"We'll finish up and be on our way," Meetra promised hastily.
((()))
Choy led the party back up into the Ebon Hawk. Bao-Dur was waiting for them with a twenty centimeter messenger drone in his hand. Atton was leaning against the bulkhead, his face worried.
"Is it safe?" she asked.
"No explosives or chemical agents picked up by the scanners," Bao-Dur affirmed. He handed the cylindrical droid over to Choy. It beeped at her, requesting confirmation of identity.
Choy placed her hand upon the receiver pad, which tingled momentarily, before the droid beeped again, and a holo projector flared to life.
A quarren was sitting in a chair, looking into the projector, but a translation in Basic was playing instead of the actual speech, based on the slightly mechanical tone of the voice, "Greetings, Meetra Surik. My name is Visquis. As you are no doubt aware, my superior, Goto, has placed a bounty of 2 million credits upon Jedi."
Atton shifted nervously, studying the holoprojection.
"Shit… they're on to us," he hissed.
"I send this message to tell you that I have captured the one you seek, Zez-Kai Ell. I wish to propose a meeting, to discuss terms. I have no quarrel with your kind, and this bounty is a risk to our organization's profits. I seek to find a means of… discontinuing… my superior's aspirations against your kind. As a show of good faith, I will release Zez-Kai Ell to you if you meet me at the Jekk'Jekk Tarr, within eight hours of this recording's timestamp. That is the length of time I can stall Goto without arousing suspicion, before I must deliver your associate to him. I do regret informing you that your associate was injured during his capture, but should recover in time… time that I do not have to give."
The probe flickered and the message died.
"It's a trap," Atton said sharply, "bastard must have recognized the picture. He just wants to get you. Why look for a Jedi when you can get one to come in voluntarily?"
"But what if it's not?" Mical pointed out.
"He may be sincere… about trying to find a way out of paying the bounty," Jolee mused.
"We can't risk it!" Atton snarled.
"It is not your decision," Handmaiden told Atton sharply.
"We need Zez, to find Kavar," Choy pointed out, trying to interrupt the glaring match.
Someone triggered the external chime.
"Someone's at the boarding ramp," Jolee murmured, "She's composed."
Meetra turned around and hit the release. Atton had his blaster out and ready.
Jolee felt Atton's presence thin and spread out, becoming hard to see in the Force, but still present beneath the waves of conflicting emotions. The emotions felt forced though. Artificial. It was also more severe than Jolee remembered sensing before.
Meetra was only slightly surprised to see Mira.
"Can I help you?" Meetra asked cautiously.
"Yeah. Can I talk to you?" Mira asked, staring at Atton's blaster warily.
Meetra studied the bounty hunter for a moment, but shrugged, and gestured for her to come up, and cycled the ramp.
Mira impatiently started speaking the moment the ramp sealed, without coming any deeper into the ship. Considering how surrounded she was by the others, it seemed a concession to caution.
"The guy you're looking for, I know him," she said.
"Right…" Atton said, rolling his eyes.
"His name is Kaille. He asked me to watch you," Mira said defensively.
"Kaille? Curious name to pick," Kreia muttered.
"Why?" Choy asked.
"He didn't exactly say. Just told me to keep an eye on you, try and figure out why you were looking for him," Mira shrugged.
"So… why are you here?" Meetra asked.
"Well… I went to report to him but… he's gone. He doesn't use a comlink, and I don't know where he is. Looked like someone attacked him, maybe carried him off," Mira reported.
"But why come to me?" Choy asked.
"Because… I think you can help me save him. I sort of owe him," Mira admitted.
"But… why come to me?" Choy asked again.
"I'm… lucky. I know when to look for people… and I think now was a good time to ask," Mira said reluctantly.
"Oh my… indeed. This woman is touched by the Force… but she was never trained. It is a nebulous thing about her. Possibly dangerous, but it has assumed a particular form… fascinating," Kreia crooned, ghostly hands caressing around Mira's head.
Choy spared a glance at the others, questioning. Atton shook his head, distrust in his eyes. Bao-Dur only blinked. Handmaiden's face gave nothing away, she simply watched Mira. Mical's eyes were concerned but he looked back at Choy with a trusting expression. Jolee was frowning, tugging at his beard.
"She's not lying," Jolee muttered softly to Choy.
"She has spoken no lies, but it remains to be seen if what she speaks is truth," Kreia retorted sharply at Jolee's words, "Be cautious of leaning too much upon this one's counsel."
"Bao-Dur. Can you replay the transmission?" Meetra asked, gesturing to the messenger probe. It took the technician a few minutes, but since it wasn't locked anymore, it wouldn't erase itself if it was tampered with.
Mira watched the recording silently, though her eyes did widen when she heard Choy's real name. Her emotions became a tangle of grief, anger, and surprise to Jolee's senses, before she swallowed it all. At the end of the recording she looked at Choy uncertainly, "Well… he might have Kaille, I mean Zez? But… it's not a good place for a meet. Not for humans."
"No humans allowed?" Atton asked sarcastically.
"Well, no. But it has several lounges, and depending on the clientele, different atmospheres. The main lounge is safe enough, and it's a typical strip-bar, but the deeper you go, the more airlocks you have to pass, and some of the connecting rooms are downright lethal to humans, if there's a containment leak. It's really popular with ammonia breathers, and some other species, where they can kick back without needing to wear environment suits," Mira explained.
"Do they allow weapons inside?" Meetra asked.
"Yes, but there are bouncers," Mira shrugged.
Atton shrugged uncomfortably, "There's still several hours until the meet. We could slip in separately, posing as patrons."
"It's a better plan than assuming he's honest," Mira said cautiously.
((()))
Mira had three hours to get to the Jekk'Jekk Tarr before the meet, but she needed to grab a breath mask, and a new blaster… and…
Malachor'gol? Choy Verdan?!
This kindly woman was the Butcher of Malachor?
Without realizing it, the bounty hunter's course had drifted. She was no longer flying towards the Third plaza Bazaar… but… rather a different place. Mira pulled the swoop bike into a rough landing, and sat on the bike, listening to the ticking of the cooling engine. She felt… lost.
"Mira?" a voice hissed, questioning.
Mira looked away from the almost hypnotic stream of navigation lights on passing speeders, to look at Vossk. The trandoshan was dressed in a loose fitting synth-silk robe, but there was a heavy blaster missing its trigger guard clenched in one taloned fist. The blaster was not pointed at her, however, just held loosely at his side.
"Hey, Boss. I…" Mira looked away.
"Mira. Come inside," the old reptile said firmly, turning his back on Mira and stalking to the open door. He waited pointedly by the door until she climbed off the bike and shuffled into his home.
Mira heard the trando engage several different security locks and alarms behind her, fumbling a little with his talons, but she simply stared into the dim light of his receiving hall. It was the place clients were allowed, to discuss business. It had expensive things, but only as much as status demanded, and no more. Vossk was not a creature that valued fine things for their own sake, only as a marker that idiots could use to understand his successfulness. It saved on having to kill people for disrespecting him.
"Now. Why have you come this night?" Vossk asked, tapping a button to increase the lighting to levels humans found tolerable, but not so bright as to hurt his eyes. He folded his massive body into a padded arm chair, studying her.
"On your planet… is there anyone… or anything that ever almost wiped out your people?" Mira asked slowly.
Vossk's nictitating membranes briefly flickered over his eyes in surprise, as he watched her pace.
"No. There was a time, before space travel, and we did not follow the Scorekeeper… some wars destroyed entire clans… but never risk of extinction," Vossk said carefully.
Mira scowled, frustrated.
"You do not ask this lightly. Why?" Vossk asked.
"I have a friend I owe a… life debt of sorts, to. I think there is someone that can help me save him, but she… she wiped out my people," Mira said.
Vossk tilted his head, "Do you hate her?"
"I… I don't know. I'm not sure if I hate her, or the idea of her? Until I found out, I thought she was… she seemed a good leader," Mira shrugged.
Vossk waved a claw in irritation, like he was batting at cloying smoke.
"Simple question. Yes, no?"
Mira stared out the large window at Nar Shadaa's traffic, searching deep into the hole at her heart.
"Yes," Mira hissed painfully.
"Good, good. Now, next part is also simple. What does honor demand?" Vossk asked, his eyes glittering dangerously.
"Repay the debt to my friend," Mira said quietly.
Vossk leaned back, satisfied, "And then repay vengeance. Debts must be addressed first, always. Vengeance is selfish, do on your own time."
"It's not that simple," Mira growled.
Vossk rose slightly from his chair, "It is that simple. But simple is not the same as easy," the trandoshan snarled. Mira dropped her gaze and her shoulders instantly.
Vossk studied her, before accepting the apology for her rudeness, and settled back into the chair.
"You… you are orphan, yes?" Vossk asked.
"Yes," Mira said shortly.
"It is why you falter. You are good, very good hunter. Only Twin Suns are better at some things, worse at others… but you have no family, no clan. If you die, you are nothing," Vossk said heavily.
Mira flinched from the words, but didn't argue.
"My sons have failed me. All are dead. When I die, the guild will fracture, I will be nothing," Vossk said calmly, but he wasn't blinking.
"I'm sorry." Mira said.
"Perhaps, but sorry for wrong things. I have watched my guild for many years. You are best successor, best chance to prevent the fight over succession," Vossk said sternly.
Mira blinked at the guild leader.
"You… you're appointing me as your successor?" Mira asked, a little lost. This was not how she'd anticipated this conversation going.
Vossk hissed with irritation, "Yes."
"The Zhugs will never agree. They've been angling for control of the guild since before I was a member," Mira protested.
Vossk smiled toothily, "What do I care for the Zhugs? They fear the Twin Suns, and the Suns will follow you. The Suns have no wish to lead."
"Now, more important question, Successor. Do you wish for help in your hunt?"
Mira eyed Vossk.
"If we run into people with insane bounties, will you ignore them, in favor of my hunt?"
Vossk glared, "Do not joke about honor. I am not a nestling, to be distracted by baubles."
Mira smiled slightly, "Just checking."
((()))
Atton's comlink chimed insistently, and the rogue slipped it out, halting by the entrance to the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. The bouncer eyed him warily, and Atton smiled harmlessly, turning his back and stepping away.
"Yes?" Atton asked.
"Jaq! Big problem!" Geeda warbled.
Atton scowled, "I don't care, Geeda," he said, his thumb moving towards the disconnect button.
"They take them!" Geeda shouted desperately. The thumb hesitated.
"Meetra needs you," the dead Jedi hissed.
Atton ignored her, staring at the comlink.
"Red Eclipse take them!" Geeda shouted.
Atton felt his throat tighten. Strange. Well, that was too bad. It really was. Atton hit the disconnect button on the comlink, pondering it. Much like Atton, Adana was going to grow up alone.
"Jaq? Hello?" Luxa asked, curious. Atton stared in surprise at his comlink.
"Luxa… I need a favor," Atton said, his subconscious catching up with his conscious like a pedestrian encountering a runaway speeder.
He had a daughter. An innocent.
Atton was not a hero.
But… for once, he wanted to do the right thing. Not the smart thing. Not for his child. For him.
"So soon?" Luxa asked coyly.
"Just a small favor. I need to know where Red Eclipse keeps their slaves," Atton said coolly.
"Fool," the dead Jedi snarled.
((()))
Atton smiled brightly at the guard. He was human, younger than Atton. Still had some acne. Good.
"Hey, I heard you got in some young slaves," Atton said, flashing a roll of credits in his hand. This caught the guard's attention.
"Yeah, but we don't sell like that. You want slaves, go to the auction house like everyone else," the guard said reluctantly, eyes locked on the credits.
"Look, it's like this, my ex took the kid, and ran. She's a deadbeat, and by the time I found the little schutta, she got the kid taken for a debt. I would be real grateful, if I could make a deal without having to bid against other, richer assholes, to get my daughter back," Atton said wearily.
The guard watched in disbelief as the credit roll became two.
"Real grateful, besides, she won't sell for much, she's five years old, not good for any labor except to someone with sick fetishes. Come on," Atton pleaded softly.
Two rolls became three.
The guard looked at Atton, his posture softening slightly, "Kids…" he glanced at Atton's pleading face again, then held his hand out and Atton handed him the credits. The guard hit a button on his comlink, and the door behind him thunked loudly, as the lock disengaged.
"Hey, Ou'oro. There's a VP customer, wants first crack at the merchandise," the guard said into the comlink.
Atton smiled brightly, as the guard turned, and touched the door. As soon as it began to open Atton used his unpowered vibroblade to sever the man's spinal cord at the base of his skull. He snatched the credit rolls from the soon to be dead man's nerveless hand, shoving it back into his jacket.
Atton turned his face from the world, and let Jaq open his eyes. The last six years fell from him. All that was left… was Revan's hound, in the cold of winter. He had a single objective.
Two pairs of eyes watched in interest as the predator stalked through the slaver's side door.
"Shall we watch the handsome human, sister?" one purred.
"It would be an education," the other said, shivering with need.
Jaq was a murderer. As long as he could maintain initiative and element of surprise, he could not be easily countered. Once lost though… Jaq could die like any man. He did not brawl. He conserved his stamina and strength like a miser, movements were efficiently lazy.
Jaq advanced down a narrow corridor. No guards in sight. He saw and heard everything, but it was ruthlessly discarded beyond what was needed in the moment.
At the intersection he heard voices approaching. Jaq faded back against the wall and waited. Four people walked past. Jaq slunk out after checking for any trailing targets, and fell into step with the group. His knife flashed after a second to match gaits with his target, followed by a careful lowering of the rearmost body. Then a few steps, and another body. The two in the lead were talking. Jaq took the one on the left first since he was slightly behind the other, and didn't bother to catch him, instead flowing into a knife thrust up under the last victim's chin as he turned to investigate the sound. Jaq thumbed the switch on the vibro-blade's generator, to help him pull the lodged blade free of the last victim's brain, then turned off the generator and its distinctive whine.
The whine of a vibroblade was usually more trouble than it was worth. Also had to be careful the active blade didn't coming into contact with a power source, since it could make the generator in the handgrip explode if active.
He started to continue walking forward but felt his stomach cramp nervously, and smoothly turned around, to walk back the way his victims had come from. The cramp eased off significantly. Jaq ran his free hand along the corridor, opening doors as he came to them to peek inside. Most were empty, and looked like holding cells. Red Eclipse must have recently sent out a shipment of slaves… or business was just slow.
One door opened into a break room/lounge of some kind. Several bodies were slumped in recliner sleep-couches, and the lights were low. One man in the corner's face was lit by the glow of the datapad he was using. Based on the quiet moans Jaq could hear, he could guess what the man was watching.
Jaq stepped inside and quietly closed the door, engaging the seal. The voyeur glanced over at the door, but between the dim lighting and the man's light adjusted eyes from watching the datapad, Jaq was just a dim shape, moving towards a couch. Besides, it sounded like a climax was coming, and the man forgot about Jaq. Until Jaq's hand clamped down on his mouth and a knife was shoved through his ear. Jaq twisted the knife as he held the twitching head in place, using his knee to pin the falling datapad to the side of the sleep couch before it could clatter to the deck. Snot blasted onto Jaq's fingers from his victim's nose, but Jaq watched with satisfaction and a slight smile, glancing at the other sleepers to see if anyone had been disturbed by the soft sounds of murder.
Seven seconds later the man was dead. Jaq struggled slightly to pull the slippery vibro-blade free. He preferred belly sleepers. Back of the neck was the best instant death target that was also the least messy. There were plenty of places to stab a man to death, but most took several seconds to work.
Jaq moved on, carefully killing the other four men and a woman. As always they were faceless to him, since they didn't matter. Jaq wiped off his hands and vibroblade on the woman's tunic, to keep it from getting sticky. The murderer quietly left, closing the door behind him to continue his search.
He was running out of rooms. Jaq walked around a corner, just as three slavers rounded the far corner. Jaq's blaster rose and shot the light panel in the ceiling, sending the hallway into flickering darkness. In the sudden confusion Jaq lunged forward and down to the left. Several panicked shots impacted to his right. His targets were still backlit. Jaq shot the one in front in the leg, causing him to fall and thrash, interrupting the two behind him as they pushed forward. Jaq threw himself to the right, avoiding the tracking shots to his old position, and fired twice more, both into what looked like throats. Jaq skipped forward, and shot again into the man on the floor, killing him.
Jaq could hear shouts and running. The murderer grabbed his last kill and threw an arm across his shoulders, levering the man up to his side, and clutching his belt. Jaq staggered around the corner, head mostly down.
"Help!" he shouted, "Raiders!"
Jaq continued to struggle forward, as four people rushed past. No one else ahead. Jaq let the body fall and turned, blaster rising smoothly. The four people had stacked up on the corner, one of them was cautiously peeking. Jaq brought them all down in a flurry of point blank blaster shots from behind.
Chaos and confusion were Jaq's best friends, second only to surprise. Mostly though Jaq preferred his victims asleep.
Nadaa held Adana in the dark cell. She could hear occasional bursts of blaster fire, and people screaming. An alarm for fire suddenly began to blare. Adana began to cry quietly, muffling the sobs into just tears, like all good refugee children trained to hide.
Nadaa rocked her daughter. It was all she could do. Someone screamed piteously outside their cell. The lock chimed as the door opened. Nadaa stared at the shape silhouetted for a moment, before her eyes adjusted.
Jaq was framed for a moment. He studied them, but his eyes were empty.
"Jaq… you came," Nadaa whispered, breaking into a smile. She moved forward to hug—
"Don't touch me," Jaq said coldly. Nadaa stumbled to a halt. He had blood spattered liberally on his face and hands. Fine droplets. Not his.
"Keep her eyes covered," Jaq said sharply, beckoning her to follow. The knife in his left hand was dripping blood. Nadaa kept Adana's face buried in her chest, "Keep your eyes closed, baby," Nadaa whispered, following her old lover. Adana hiccupped quietly into Nadaa's tunic.
There were bodies everywhere. Most of the faces she could see looked agonized, or surprised. Oh Jaq… what did you do?
A group of people came around a corner and Jaq spun the lead woman around, stabbing her in the back, levering the knife to keep her upright and screaming as a body shield. He shot two of the others in the face as they tried to aim around the flailing woman. The fourth man simply opened fire, but the woman soaked up the shots, growing limp. Jaq shot the last man in the foot, then dumped his shield off of his knife, pouncing on the downed fourth man, hastily stabbing him wherever he could, struggling with him for control of his blaster. The man was pleading. Jaq kept stabbing viciously until the noise stopped.
It was not an easy death. Jaq looked up from the fourth man, his lips curved slightly. He saw Nadaa's sickened expression, and his face hardened.
"This is why I left. This is what I am," Jaq said coldly, as he shoved a fresh powerpack into his empty blaster.
((()))
Visquis was pleasantly surprised to see Mira enter the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. Hanharr, had not yet arrived. Well, at least that was one headache he could ignore, for now. The quarren's beady eyes studied the displays. The common lounge was full of various species. A fair portion were human.
[A'ak, have you noticed any… unusual, new patrons?] Visquis asked his head bartender via comlink. The devaronian shrugged, tilting his head down as he apparently polished a glass, "Several," he muttered into the comlink concealed in his collar.
[Any that match the images I showed you?] Visquis clarified.
"The Zabrak and one of the human males. Primary target hasn't come yet," A'ak reported.
Visquis frowned. He'd given the Jedi enough time to seed her companions unobtrusively into the clientele, but it was almost time for the designated meeting… only thirty minutes were left…
Visquis smelled the reek of ship exhaust propellants and spun. A lanky, two and a half meter tall hairy hominid towered over Visquis. Bandoleers criss-crossed his powerful chest, but he carried no obvious weapons… aside from the two centimeter long retractable claws peeking from the fur at the end of his hands.
[Hanharr], Visquis said slowly, trying to conceal his agitation. He'd not triggered any of the alerts on the secured airlock that led to the spaceport exhaust tunnels beneath the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. The killer's muzzle flared as he removed a custom breath mask, and satisfaction entered the creature's crazed eyes. Visquis also smelled the cloying scent of kolto, beneath the stink of exhaust fumes. Visquis was not an idiot. He did not ask if Hanharr was injured, it would just enrage him.
[Mira is here, but I need your services. Are you interested in collecting Vogga's bounty for Goto's head?] Visquis asked softly.
Reluctantly, the hominid looked away from the screen that showed Mira, to Visquis.
[Goto is elusive. He does not reveal himself. He is difficult prey.] Hanharr rasped, fiddling with a tiny translator clipped to a bandoleer. The translator spewed out a lifeless translation into quarrenese. Hanharr was not a registered bounty hunter. He was primarily a slaver (very successful one too), but would dabble as a free-lance bounty hunter if the chase was interesting enough, or the credits plentiful.
[Ah… but Goto desires a Jedi, and one will be coming here, to speak with me. Once we have her, you will deliver her safely to Goto… but not for his bounty. He does not have the credits, but Vogga does. Take Goto's head, and present it to Vogga. I will become the next Boss, and use my influence to… smooth… your operations on Nar Shadaa] Visquis proposed.
Hanharr studied Visquis suspiciously, [Why would Goto risk this?]
[Because he is planning to fake his death. I propose to make it true,] Visquis answered.
[Clever] Hanharr growled. It sounded condescending.
((()))
Meetra walked next to Handmaiden into the bar. The trandoshan bouncer simply watched them inscrutably. Meetra walked through the narrow entry passage that looked like an airlock, but both doors were open. It could probably lock down in a hurry though. Noise hit her ears, but it was recorded music, something flute based, breathy and somehow disconcerting. No live band. Sullen red light strips that outlined table tops, counters, and edges of walls gave the twenty meter long square shaped room a dingy feel, since there was no direct lighting. The bar was at the center of the room, with various hoses and pipes leading up into the ceiling. Tables littered the room with a few tight paths of open space to navigate among them. Partitions blocked off the corners into more private (and presumably expensive) drinking experiences. Meetra saw another airlock at the back of the room, which presumably led deeper into the bar to the other atmospheres.
The cheap tables in the center were at about half capacity, but the private sections seemed to be crammed with hard looking spacers. Possibly mercenaries. Those sections had a raised circular platform in their center, with a female of various species and little to no clothing, dancing sullenly for the appreciation of those in the cubicle. The partition was only waist high. Handmaiden drew some looks from the crowd, but no one glanced twice at the mechanic beside her.
Meetra began to weave towards the devaronian barkeep. She spotted Bao-Dur hunched broodingly over a glass to her left. She didn't see Mical, but he wasn't as distinctive in the gloom. Mira was seated at a table near the door to the next area, apparently sharing some kind of story with a hulking trandoshan, and not paying any attention beyond using her hands to accentuate her story.
Handmaiden fell into Meetra's wake, her glare discouraging some of the more inquisitive eyes.
"My name is Choy Verdan. I have a meeting with the owner?" Meetra said, leaning over the bar towards the devaronian. The alien frowned and jerked his horned head towards the next airlock.
"You are expected."
Meetra felt some concern though that no one was insisting she come alone.
Even if this meeting was in good faith… a crime boss didn't become such without some paranoia.
"Visquis may be desperate for this meeting," Kreia observed, floating through the tables beside Meetra, "But it is likely a trap. However, traps work both ways."
Meetra wished she had the shade's confidence, but it probably came from already being dead. Kreia smiled enigmatically back at Meetra.
((()))
The airlock reeked of ammonia, but seemed to be just a faint wisp that hadn't been reclaimed by the air scrubbers, since Choy's eyes weren't burning, but she did keep a hand on the emergency breath mask clipped to her belt from the Ebon Hawk's survival kit. Handmaiden didn't touch hers, she simply waited patiently.
The door cycled open, revealing a lounge with similar lighting to the main lounge, but instead of red it was pale violet. Most of the room was taken up by a large central pool of water. A few tables and chairs existed in the corners, but Meetra didn't see anywhere to dispense alcohol. A quarren was floating in the pool, and watched as they entered. He didn't seem armed, wearing a formfitting bodygarment with no pockets.
[Welcome] the alien said, holding a translator in one hand above the water.
"Are you Visquis?" Meetra asked cautiously. Handmaiden remained at Choy's elbow, keeping guard.
[I am. Thank you for coming to see me,] the crime boss said.
"Where is Zez-Kai Ell?" Meetra asked coldly.
[In a kolto tank, recuperating. I will lead you to him after our discussion. This chamber is protected from electronic surveillance, and I do not wish Goto to overhear] the quarren said calmly.
Meetra crossed her arms, "I'm listening," she said tersely.
[Thank you. Goto has placed a bounty of two million credits for live Jedi in good condition. We do not have that kind of money. I propose an alliance, against Goto. I will present you to my employer, and then we will kill him. Once I am in charge, I will rescind the bounty. I have no use for Jedi, and Nar Shadaa is not part of the Republic, so your kind has no jurisdiction here. We are not allies nor are we enemies] the quarren said.
Meetra frowned, "I'm not going to kill someone for you."
[Even if you leave this moon with your comrade, the bounty hunters will continue to hound and harass you. Goto is the source. If you wish to protect yourselves, then Goto must die] Visquis argued.
"He's not wrong. It is the wisest course of action," Kreia shrugged.
Meetra scowled.
[Very well, I will increase the incentive. You have been rendering aid in the Refugee Sector, yes?] Visquis said heavily.
"I have," Meetra said cautiously.
[It is by Goto's instruction that we have placed so much pressure upon the Refugees. Again, for no discernible gain that I can find. The cost of such exploitation is quite prohibitive, for such cheap slaves. I will discontinue the program against the Refugees in exchange for your help. I will supply the killer, you simple need to… protect them… during their endeavor.]
Meetra was torn. Sometimes… to protect the masses, some people had to die. The problem was how close she was getting to the lid of the box that held her past. It would be so easy to slip back into that role. Liberator.
"A trap. If you rescue these people they will remain victims. You will grow stronger through the challenge, but will diminish them. They must rise up and save themselves, if you truly care for these people," Kreia warned.
There was a soft thump from behind Meetra, and she spun. The Handmaiden was sprawled limply on the deck, eyes staring at Choy in fear. Meetra felt her body begin to tilt and landed on top of Handmaiden. She couldn't move her eyes. A moment later, darkness took her.
((()))
Mira kept an eye on the room as she waited. The large repeater display on the wall switched from some kind of sports event, to show three images side by side, with the words: Wanted DEAD, 4000 credits below each. The images were of Bao-Dur, Mical, and Mira.
Ossik.
A ripple of people tapping others on the shoulder, and pointing to the display spread through the room. Then eyes drifted towards the various targets and hands towards weapons.
"Treachery," Vossk hissed.
You don't say.
Mira yanked her jacket zipper up to her throat, then snatched a flash grenade from her belt and strong armed it into a group of mercs that was starting to rise up from their corner booth. She looked away and closed her eyes a second before the blinding light pulsed the room. Vossk had also hunkered down for a moment with her, but with a grunt he ripped the table from its support, toppling it forward as cover. The plasma projector settled over the lip of the table, and spat an intense wad of superheated plasma that expanded to encompass a two meter wide swathe of mercs. It reduced anything organic it touched to char, and melted or vaporized inorganic as appropriate.
Then the screaming started. Mira fired the heavy blaster Vossk had loaned her, targeting knees and hands of anyone armed that wasn't running away. A twi'lek man lunged at the Zabrak with a vibro-sword. Mira saw the big man grab the blade with his mechanical hand in a screech of metal, before slamming the twi'lek's head down through a nearby table with his other hand between the merc's shoulder blades, instantly snapping the merc's neck.
Mira shot a rodian in the knee that was angling towards Bao-Dur's back, dropping him to his knees just in time to receive a massive back hand as the Zabrak turned, probably killing him outright, and sending the body tumbling into another group of mercs.
The grouping was too tempting for Vossk through, and a spray of plasma erased the group. A plasma projector had a slow rate of fire, but was devastating.
Surik's group were an excellent diversion for the remaining idiots in the bar.
"Give me cover, then follow me?" Mira asked Vossk. The trandoshan nodded, smacking a crazed rodian that was climbing over the table at him, knife in hand. The smaller alien crumpled against the far wall in a lifeless pile. The room had almost completely emptied. Most of the patrons didn't want anything to do with a plasma projector. What good were credits to dead men?
Mira hunched and ran for the airlock that Surik had left through. She was betting the malachor'gal was in trouble. That was a problem, because Mira was the one that needed to kill her. After she rescued Kaille.
((()))
Jaq led Nadaa and Adana around the corner at a dead run, before slowing to a halt. The landing pad was empty. The Ebon Hawk was gone.
"Where's your ship?" Nadaa panted. Jaq could hear shouts in the distance. Looked like the ion pulse hadn't killed whatever trackers the two had been implanted with.
"Not here," Jaq snarled, then pointed towards the warehouse beside them. He used the exchange slicer card to burn out the electronic lock, and shoved the heavy door open. There was a shout from behind them. They'd been seen.
Jaq could have slipped out the far side and eluded pursuit, but not with the slaves.
He needed to kill this group.
Jaq turned on his comlink, hoping the Ebon Hawk was still in range, "I need a pick up at the landing pad."
There was a moment of delay before Jolee growled, "I'm busy!"
Jaq pulled the slaves to the center of the warehouse, and used his vibro-blade to carve into a shipping container's locking mechanism.
"Inside. Wait here," he said tersely. Jaq swiftly checked his blaster. The blaster gas reservoir was almost empty, and he didn't have any spares. Just as well, since he was also out of blaster packs. He had one last glimpse of Nadaa's terrified face before he closed the container. It wouldn't latch anymore, but that was fine. He didn't want them to be trapped.
His gut was churning. Staying here… he would die. It wasn't nebulous.
So be it.
"A waste," the dead Jedi said sharply.
Jaq slipped through the stacks, using his ears to locate the intruders. They would be homing in on Nadaa and Adana's transmitters, at the center of this artificial maze.
He was the monster that haunted this maze.
"If you die, then you risk the death of Meetra. If she should die, then all these lives are forfeit," the dead Jedi snarled.
"Fuck off," Jaq said amiably. He was in a place beyond rage, pain, or fear. A crystal lake.
Jaq was death… but it would not last long. This was not how he hunted.
Jaq popped around a corner and slashed a man across his eyes, spinning him towards his companions. The flailing man spoiled the aims of his comrades. Jaq fired three times and dropped his empty blaster, scooping up a fallen disruptor pistol. Three more dead bodies, but there were seven in the group.
Disruptors were shitty weapons. Good against energy shields or heavy armor, but the firing rate was too slow, and the power consumption was unnecessary against unarmored targets.
Jaq fired, aiming for center mass from the hip, as he lunged forward, using the flailing blind man for cover. Two blasters fired in reply. A shot hit Jaq in the shoulder, ablated somewhat by his jacket, but it threw off his next shot, which hit a container next to his target's head. The blast did throw tiny molten fragments of plasteel into his eyes and face through. Not enough to blind, but enough to flinch from.
Jaq let the hit spin him to the ground, his arm extending with the momentum to settle the disruptor on the next target. He pulled the trigger but the weapon didn't fire. It hadn't had time to recharge the capacitors. The man saw this and sneered, leveling his blaster carbine. He didn't see the blaster Jaq had snatched up in his fall, so intent on the obvious disruptor. Jaq triggered the blaster, held tight to his chest without aiming. The bolts chewed into his target's belly and right arm. The man fell to his knees, but wasn't dead, just screaming breathlessly. Jaq extended the blaster and fired, hitting his target in the face. He triggered the disruptor, but wasn't aiming at the men in front of him, but the catwalk above him. The blast ripped through one of the support struts, and the walkway twisted free of its mounts, spilling the two men that had just run into view ten meters to the ground below.
Jaq dropped the empty disruptor, snatching up his vibroblade, as he shot the flinching man, and stabbed the blind man in the back of the neck. His right arm was responding to commands but was stiff.
Jaq moved on.
((()))
"Sister. Look at him," the pale Sun purred, feeling her loins quicken. The handsome man. Oh… look at him. He did not fight. He did not dance. His movements were lazy, ugly… but he did not hide what he was. He was naked before her eyes. Murder. It was everything that he was. He did not pretend to be a soldier, a duelist, a good man.
But it spoke to her heart. Because this monster was a father.
Long ago, a little girl had cried out for her own father.
He had not come, and things had been ripped from her.
This spoke to the romantic in her, what little spark was left.
The universe was shit… but sometimes… you could make it fuck itself.
The dark Sun watched with no less regard than her sister, but her eyes hungered, watching and learning. Men had ripped all desire for sex from her body at the age of seven. This man fought as an ambush predator, but normally, such a creature died once dragged into the light. This one refused to die, reckless. Each time he attacked, he emerged battered, but still able to kill. She could read the knowledge of his own death in his movements, but she could not see hesitation in the frenzied attacks, each new ambush and flurry of blaster shots came quicker and quicker, as the killer was hemmed in by converging search parties.
She had seen others move as this man did, but none of them would have done this. They valued their own lives too much. She did not understand, so she watched, and observed. A vicious coward that would not run.
Finally, a Nikto managed to survive the first barrage, and grabbed the killer, slamming him repeatedly with fists or the wall in the face. The nikto died, but the damage was done.
((()))
Jaq slumped against the ground, his ears ringing. Failure. He'd lost the edge of the moment.
Atton could hear Nadaa scream in the distance. They'd found her. He hadn't changed anything.
"Murderer," the dead Jedi whispered into his ear.
Yes bitch?
"You came close to success. Meetra will need you before the end. I offer you… knowledge. It may let you save the woman and your child. In exchange, give your allegiance to Meetra. Not grudging servitude. Give your all to her," the ghost murmured.
Atton was no stranger to slavery. He didn't even hesitate.
I swear.
"Very well. You have not earned this knowledge, so prepare yourself. This will likely by painful."
A cold hand reached into his belly, and the world expanded. Like a blind man used to feeling his way through the world, he could suddenly see. No more murky feelings. He could see the paths that he wanted, see where they led. He knew where all seventeen living creatures within the warehouse were, knew which were Adana and Nadaa. He also felt like he was on fire. He was burning. It was agony.
Atton blindly reached out, and picked up a fallen man's blaster pistol. He hadn't seen it, but he knew it was there.
"Mommy!" Adana screamed, fighting the hands that held her, dragging her away from Nadaa. The woman struggled, her fist breaking a nose, before an elbow drove the air from her lungs in the forest of hands and arms. She was still gasping when Jaq staggered into view, leaning against the side of a container. His left eye was swollen shut and blood was dripping down that side from a cut above his eye and broken nose. His blaster rose and began firing. Each shot was painfully slow, yet somehow precise. It looked like a drunken dance, as most shots found throats and heads, a few even moved accidentally into the paths of the bolts. Jaq's almost drunken swaying as he approached seemed to avoid the panicked return fire by accident. He fired under his arm without bothering to turn, and a man came around a corner behind him just in time to catch the blaster bolt with his face… but Jaq's eyes did not leave Nadaa's as he approached. His face was frozen rage, his eyes promised only death. A blaster bolt from Jaq hit a light fixture, making a running man stumble in the catwalk above them with sparks in his eyes, his hip hit the guardrail and he fell screaming onto his head.
Jaq stumbled on.
Jaq could feel the inner vision fading at the edges. Whatever the dead Jedi had done was fading, or he was. Jaq wasn't sure which. Didn't care much either way. He lined his blaster up and fired blindly, felt as the last target intersected the path of his bolt, and the target died. Jaq's fingers weakly lost hold of his weapon, and his legs finally gave out.
It was finished.
"Jaq!" Nadaa was holding him, his head in her lap.
It was nice. He didn't deserve it.
"Comlink," Atton whispered, "Preset. One."
He felt thin fingers fumbled something up to his mouth. He could hear the hiss of an open line.
"I need… pick up… please," he whispered. Hot tears fell onto his face.
The twisted creature hesitated, feeling the heat from the open hearth, but knew better than to stay. He could feel Nadaa, beating against him. She had never stopped loving him.
But the monster lingered for a moment on the threshold, to bask in that warmth.
But only a moment. His place was in the cold.
((()))
More slavers entered the warehouse, but their footsteps were cautious, timid. Many had died. Few remained, and their desire for revenge was beginning to cool from fear and fewer numbers. They also had eyes, to see the scattered bodies of their fellows.
"Sister. I would speak to the handsome man," the pale Sun moaned, trembling with need.
"Mmm… they would stop us," the dark Sun mused.
"Then let us play with them," the pale Sun purred, slipping down from the catwalk. Her knives were in hand the moment her feet lightly touched the ground.
((()))
Mira blasted the locking panel off the door, and rewired the door actuator after a few seconds. With a squeal, the door slammed back into its housing since Mira had bypassed the safeguards. She saw a room with a large pool, and the white-clad Echani at her feet. There was another door across from the pool, and she saw a familiar and hated shape waiting for her. Hanharr was wearing a breath mask across his muzzle, and had a hopefully unconscious Surik thrown across one shoulder.
The monster huffed, and disappeared into the next room.
You want me to chase you. Mira sprinted around the edge of the pool, fumbling Vossk's breath mask onto her face, struggling a little with the air hose that was clipped to the fist sized air cylinder on her belt. She also pulled her untinted swoop goggles down over her eyes. It would keep the exhaust fumes from making them water.
She'd fought Hanharr in the tunnels beneath the Jekk'Jekk Tarr before. If he wanted a rematch, she was more than willing to give it to him, especially with about three hundred kilos of irritated Trandoshan at her back.
And this time I'm going to kill you.
Well… certainly cripple him. He wouldn't be a threat without limbs. Mira steeled herself, and bit down on her fear.
"Dha werda verda a'den tratu," Mira hissed, then plunged into the darkness.