Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed or Star Wars. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not created with commercial aim. I make no money from it.

Phase 17: Homecoming

=RK=

Part 3

=RK=

Gord's Bigges Gunz!

Nar Shaddaa

My attempts to haggle with Gord went downhill, fast. It was no surprise that Republic credits were no good on Nar Shaddaa. That was the case at the best of times and with the war going badly, it was no wonder no one in this area of space would accept such a currency. My problem was that most of what I had as assets that would spent here were locked in the Core by the Holonet being disrupted by jamming and loss of relay stations. What little assets I got on me when we left to deal with Crimson was all I had available along with the remaining funds of my Black Ops people and a bit of cash from the cultists. In absolute terms, it was a nice pile of cash. However, when compared to what we needed to pay for before leaving Nar Shaddaa, it was barely enough for fuel and Tibana gas. To my absolute lack of surprise, warships and their weaponry were ruinously expensive.

"I can offer you a contract to supply the Mandalorian navy with all kinds of weaponry, especially such beauties that no one would even think of building, much less selling in Republic space. We're talking billions of profit in your currency of choice." I waved a hand and pushed as hard as I dared with the Force to reinforce the suggestion that I was making Gord a favour.

His eyes unfocused for a few seconds and his smile slackened a bit. Yet, it didn't last. Gord shook his had, his eyes refocused and he sighed. "It's tempting. Under different circumstances I'll be kissing you for offering such a deal!" He exclaimed.

It took all I had not to blanch at the very idea.

"By all accounts, your people are losing the war, no matter how outrageous such an idea would have been a few months ago." Gord snickered. "Who would have thought that the famous Republic would be so brittle? The first serious threat if faced in centuries and it simply broke! Do you know, Mandalorian, that the last reports smugglers brought from the Core was of infighting on Coruscant? It turns out that the Republic's slave army isn't on board with your people being in charge nowadays. Even if Veil comes here and as Mandalore swears upon the honour of his people that my debts would be paid, I still wouldn't take him up on the offer. The way I see it, it would take a miracle for your side not to lose. Mandalore itself has been under siege for months now. The Republic is too busy fighting itself to help them and by the time they clean up their mess, whatever is left would be easy pickings for the Separatists. Your Mandalore could come in here, solemnly swear on your people's honour that my debts would be repaid in full, yet it would mean nothing! Payment in cash, on delivery or no deal."

From all the Gamoreans to deal with, I simply had to run into one with a respectable willpower. If I pushed, I would convince him, however the power I would need to use would mess up his brain and it would become painfully obvious that something was wrong. It would be a miracle if the deal went through after that.

"Just make sure that my purchase list is ready. How long will you need to have everything packed for pick-up? I'll get you the money in a currency you can spend here." I promised.

"Do I want to know how you're going to get it?"

I wisely declined to explain.

"Bah, as if I care. Just don't get killed before you can pay me, Mandalorian."

"It's nice to do business with you, Gord. If there are no complications that contract I spoke of might indeed materialize one of these days." I left with those parting words.

To their credit, my people kept quiet until we were back at the safe house.

"We don't have that much money, do we, sir?" Rex asked.

"The Screaming Blades and the special forces stationed on this moon don't." HK stated.

"No. However, we're getting those ships one way or another. Rex, you're going back to the ship and getting in touch with the fleet. I want Gord's ships located and a mission to capture them along with his supply of weapons ready to go ASAP. Coordinate with HK and our people here for intelligence. That's our plan Besh. After that, HK, you and the cultists are going to get me everything you've got on our least favourite Hutt on Nar Shaddaa. We're going to visit him and convince him to make a donation for the stunt he pulled at that meeting."

"How big a donation?" HK curiously asked.

"Everything he has in exchange of not being skinned alive. Contingency planning first. HK, do you have any idea where Gord keep his ships? What kinds of security he has there? Are they ready to deploy and if not what would it take to make them so? What about the locations of his weapon caches?"

=RK=

Briefing room Arubesh

Republic Assault Ship Relentless

Sergeant Johnson planted his backside on one of the uncomfortable chairs bolted to the deck. He carefully looked around and noted who the other senior NCOs and officers gathered for a briefing were. Many of the faces were familiar, which told him enough about what the next operation would be. All the people trickling in were trained and more often than not experienced in boarding actions. However, there were fewer of them than before the last such operation. The ground component of the fleet had been whitled down significantly when ships suffered combat damage or were outright destroyed with more soldiers dying or being injured when they stormed enemy crippled ships in order to secure supplies for the fleet.

"Admiral on deck!" A senior fleet captain announced in a voice accustomed to command.

Admiral Joanna Holt strode in confidently, imacule in her Corellian styled naval uniform. "At ease." She barked. "We have a possible mission requiring your particular talents. A local arms dealer has come into possession of a number of warships, which we can put to good use when fighting our way back home. There is an operation ongoing on Nar Shaddaa to procure to funds to buy those ships, which if successful will see us ready to intervene in case our agents on the moon get backstabbed. However, if that operation doesn't pan out, we'll be capturing those ships. Agents planet-side have located the dock complex where our targets are laid down for servicing. At this time it is unclear if they're ready to go or not."

A holographic projector came to life behind the admiral showing long range, low resolution images. The angle wasn't particularly good either. Whoever procured them, did it from the dirt side and wasn't using specialized equipment.

"Our primary targets are those five destroyers." Five ships blinked in green. "At this time we don't have anything solid on internal layout nor about security contingent. However, the targets are at Nar Shaddaa so it is a given that they aren't unattended. Otherwise, someone would have already taken them."

Johnson liked this less and less. There was simply too little solid information. It was one thing to jump mostly blind at logistic vessels, which as expected had mostly civilian crews and minimum security. Even storming damaged separatists warships was somewhat better – by now, both sides had the plans for the internal layout of major and most minor enemy combatants... hells that was mostly true from day one of the war.

Those brick-like ships were unknown. Layout, internal defences, what kind of opposition could be expected? With this being Nar Shaddaa, it could be bunch of thugs that wouldn't be particularly dangerous besides the obvious issue of blowing up the ships by accident... or they could be hardened and well equipped mercenaries who could really give the Republic soldiers a run for their money, especially when they had the home-ground advantage.

"Time constrains? Fleet support? Opposition from local forces?" A Colonel asked.

"The mission will be a go within the next forty-eight hours. We'll be dropping a reinforced task force to secure the docks with the rest of the fleet on standby in the case Hutt aligned forces attempt a counter-attack. You might expect assistance by General Veil, his security detail and locally deployed special forces units. They will be disguised as Mandalorian mercenaries so do not engage any such you see unless fired upon."

This was getting better and better. A thought struck Johnson and he voiced it. "Can the general talk the security down if they turn out to be Mandalorians?"

"If they are, I'm sure he'll attempt it. However, and this comes from him, if that's the case and they open fire on you, put them down, hard."

Well, that at least was a relief. It only left the NCO with all his other misgivings about the operation.

=RK=

Part 4

=RK=

Greh'mora's tower

Nar Shaddaa

A lack of proper intelligence support raised its ugly head, again. It was one of the things that I had to arrange with the Kenobi's to get fixed once I got back to Coruscant. Too much improvisation, one too many times going in blind. We spent a day gathering intelligence, which left us with less than twenty-four hours to plan a raid on a Hutt's seat of power, on Nar Shaddaa no less. Intelligence wise, most of what we got was rumours and observation from a few people who actually were in the slug's audience chamber. Strength of his defensive force? Traps, any other surprises? That was guesswork. The most up to date information we got was from HK and a pair of my troopers going in while playing up their mercenary persona and all that got us was a confirmation of how little we did know about Greh'mora.

The only "sure" thing in this whole operation was our extraction plan. If we kriffed up, which was a very real possibility, Joanna will launch the raid on Gord's shipyards and use that as a distraction to send down an extraction team, complete with orbital support if it came to that.

The plan itself? It was the type I would usually be berating people if they came up with something like it. It was bare-bones and dangerous as hell – infiltrate Greh'mora's tower in small groups kitted as Mandalorian mercenaries looking for work and once we gathered in his audience chamber and he made an appearance, eliminate all opposition and convince him to cough up his fortune. A distraction in the form of a feinting attack should get the attention of some of his security forces, buying us more time before someone had the bright idea to storm the audience chamber.

Fighting our way out and dealing with any pursuing force would be interesting, though our people on the outside would be helping with that or calling in the cavalry if everything went to hell.

Ideally, we would have pounced on the worm while he was in transit to another location, however Greh'mora seldom left his tower and we simply lacked the time and information to engineer a situation that would force him to re-locate. If we wanted him simply dead, that would be simple. We would need to infiltrate one of the lower floors of the tower, plant explosives and bring the whole structure down, unless we could get enough ordnance to load it on a suitable flying vehicle and use it as a drone weapon.

The moment I walked into Greh'mora's audience chamber, it became painfully clear that this raid was going to suck. Today the place was packed up with minions, small time criminals, mercenaries looking for work, all kinds of people looking for an audience, you name it, they were probably within the crowd. At least two small groups of Mandalorians were present and they weren't with us, which was yet another complication. I thought about aborting the operation. The risk was great and if we kriffed up, the fleet would have to come knocking anyway. Yet, if we pulled this off, the odds of making a lot of Hutts hostile to Mandalore, if not the Republic as a whole, would be significantly lessened. A fleet raid on one of their shipyards on the other hand? That had all kinds of political and military implications. My problem was that the need for more ships and weapons to fight our way into Republic space and then lift the siege of Mandalore kinda trumped those other future complications.

The Force wasn't of much help. The situation was close enough to the knife edge that there wasn't a single likely future to easily divine. I knew that what we were about to do was dangerous, yet that was all I could get from my power. At least I didn't get the impression that we were going to get ourselves killed for sure or we would be high-tailing it out of here.

I briefly tugged on my power and swept the large room for familiar signature. The sticky feeling of the Dark Side made it a harder than usual, however I was able to divine that my strike teams were in position. Two were hanging near the large door that was the primary entrance. They were in place to neutralize the security detail there and hold the place, once the smart visitors fled. That was a silver lining, with that many people inside, once we began, the panic would throw the tower in chaos. The primary downside was that with the surrounding crowd, we could get swarmed. We did plan for such a contingency, however we lacked the proper equipment to handle it without a lot of risk.

Another team slowly made its way to the side entrance that our target would use to enter and in case of trouble flee through. They would block it and make sure that the Hutt not only wouldn't be leaving that way, but no reinforcements would pour through. Two more teams were heading my way, they would cover my group as we secured Greh'mora and the last small group would be busy ensuring the crowd would decide it was a capital idea to be somewhere else.

The noise suddenly spiked. I could hear the whine of a repulsorlift, which meant that the worm was on the way, riding a palanquin so he wouldn't have to slither under his own power. A subtle use of the Force to project an aura of unease made sure my group could make its way to the front just in time to see Greh'mora settle on the raised podium where he usually held court. Two rows of mercenaries formed to keep the crowd at bay. The outer ring was the comparatively lightly armed and armoured beings that made the bulk of the Hutt's forces – more or less regular thugs in the worm's employ, no different from the enforcers of the more organized gangs on Nal Hutta. The second group was different. They had better and mostly standardised outfits. All wore medium and heavy armour that looked sturdy enough to hold under sustained fire. A Huttese rune was painted on their chests – Greh'mora's coiling sigil. It vaguely resembled a purple snake making an infinity symbol and chasing its own tail.

It was notable that at least half of the slug's elite guard was outfitted with disruptors, which were nasty. They would ignore most deflectors and even when not outright deadly, the way they operated ensured grievous, extremely painful and hard to heal wounds. That alone designated them as primary targets to be neutralized.

Greh'mora's speaker, an insectoid alien I was unfamiliar with, began introducing their master in passable Huttese. It was show time.

"HK, do your thing." I sub-vocalized.

"MEAT-BAGS!" My assassin droid thundered. "RUN!" He threw a concussion grenade in the air. His shouts and the following explosion nicely gained everyone's attention. I knew that he would be opening with the crowd control electric dischargers we got for him for just such an occasion.

Behind me, Rex and his troopers threw a mix of frag and concussion grenades at the Hutt's guards. I spent a moment to guide the ordnance for maximum effect and to guarantee that we wouldn't be caught in its blast radius. After all, we were very near the targets. A few of them had the experience and reflexes to fling themselves away, with one brave soul jumping over a frag grenade. However, most of them got caught off guard, gawking HK inspired chaos. Cascading explosions rippled through and ripped to shreds the heart of the defenders, leaving Greh'mora with only a handful of his elite guard between his bulk and me.

I trusted my people to watch my back and used the Force to boost my speed. The moment the grenades went off, my hands went for my heavy blasters and I was moving through the carnage before anyone could react. Training, experience and the Force ensured that when I opened fire, all my shots were on target.

To their credit, the remaining bodyguards reacted with speed born of practice. They either went on one knee to present lesser targets or moved to get in my way. However, they were simply moving too slow. To my sped up perception, it looked as if my targets were pushing through mud. I shot the first to react in the head and three heavy blaster bolts ensured his initiative wouldn't bother us. A second died just as he went on one knee and was about to shoulder his disruptor rifle.

All around me, fear and chaos reigned. The sheer surprise and terror surrounding me were enough to give me a slight sense of euphoria and hunger for more. I pushed through those emotions, determined not to let them distract me. A third guard fell after I shot them and then a fourth. Only now the remaining two could take aim. I let the Force guide my body and twisted around a disruptor beam. I took a brief moment to pump two shots in that target, one slagging the weapon and another hitting her in the neck. After that I twister again and whirled again to avoid a barrage from a light repeater that went to tear into the crowd. I rewarded that man with a flurry of shots that connected with his upper torso and armoured head. He fell down, his screams cut off by the melted ruin of his helmet.

Greh'mora glared hatefully my way then an ugly smile stretched his lipless mouth. The Force whispered a warning and I watched in slow motion how a solid metal walls began descending from the ceiling to cut us off from the Hutt. I poured more power into enhancing my speed and blurred. Greh'mora's eyes widened comically and attempted to pop out of his skull as he watched me appear next to him just as the protective cage sealed around us.

=RK=

HK-117 was a happy assassin droid. He might have preferred some more lethal attachments instead of the crowd control ones, however he knew the logic was sound. Many of those meat-bags would serve better running through the tower, thus slowing down any enemy response, instead of dying screaming on the floor. The droid calmly mowed anyone not running with his heavy repeating blaster, its powerful plasma bolts tearing through armour and flesh alike with equal ease. Beside him, two Clones busied themselves throwing concussion grenades into the crowd and using wide-beam sonic weaponry to discourage the meat-bags from coming closer.

HK noticed a group of unknown people in Mandalorian styled armour making their way to one of the walls to put it to their backs. He briefly thought about dispatching that potential complication but promptly discarded that idea. If they were indeed Mandalorians, then they might not be as useless as the average meat-bags. Besides, his Master might get upset with him. Instead, the assassin droid made his way towards the side door, where Sigma Team was trading fire with a group of enemy reinforcements. Half of the Clones in that group were down, with the rest fighting a desperate holding action. HK removed a plasma grenade from his harness and threw it into that entrance. Two point three seconds later, a small sun briefly appeared before it promptly extinguished itself and sterilizing that corridor. The droid's action was just in time to save the last soldier before he too got overwhelmed.

"Secure that entrance." HK ordered and turned around to cover the main door. While doing that, his sensors noted that there was no sight of his Master and that the primary target had vanished behind solid slabs of metal. The droid calculated the most likely scenarios and reached the conclusion that the mission was likely going to be successful. Not to ensure that they could be operational long enough for extraction...

HK strode over blood and gore covered floor paying no attention to the multitude of trampled meat-bags. The crowd was busy pushing its way through the main entrance and thus making sure no enemy reinforcements could get through there for the time being. Behind him, the units meant to support Master were dispatching any remaining resistance and prompting the fleeing meat-bags to run faster by shooting over their heads.