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 5

=RK=

Greh'mora's tower

Nar Shaddaa

Sergeant Vance, along with almost half operatives still stationed on Nal Shaddaa flew on a small convoy of vehicles appropriated by the Cult of the Screaming Blade members. Two transport vans held most of his soldiers. They were escorted by four air cars loaded with what improvised explosives could be created on a short notice. Those were drone vehicles controlled by an operator in the back of a fifth that flew behind and above them. For the Sergeant team, this was the most nerve-racking part of the operation. There was no guarantee that they could receive the go signal from within the Hutt's audience chamber and for obvious reasons no one tested it beforehand. That's why he had a time-table on when to initiate the diversionary attack. As a precaution, there were cultist observers watching the tower and they were supposed to signal if they saw the guards going on alert... and even that could be a false positive. Without assets in place within the Hutt's organization, nor proper technical and intelligence support, they were flying blind and relying on sheer luck not to launch either too early or too late.

Vance hated it. He hadn't been trained for this special operations shit. The same was true for his men and they all knew it. The best they could do was pose as Republic soldiers who got discharged for being too unstable for the army or even outright deserters. The fact that almost everyone in Hutt space bought those excuses without second thoughts didn't endear them to the soldier.

The Sergeant attempted to push those dark thoughts aside only for his mind to go back to the reason why it wandered there. The waiting was getting to him and his soldiers. His eyes flickered to the upper left of his HUD, where the mission clock was steadily ticking towards the half-way point.

"Do you think we'll get some time off when we get to Mandalore?" Ike, the youngest member of the unit, asked.

"We might." Vance nodded. At least one way or another they would soon get off this forsaken, rock. It would be great to no longer drown in Hutts and other assorted scum. He didn't want to think how their ultimate destination would likely be a war-torn ruin so unlike the stories they heard by their trainers while growing up.

Vance looked over his soldiers to pull his mind of his own unease. They were all nervous and their impatience grew with every passing moment. The tells were subtle and anyone who hadn't worked closely with them for months would likely miss them. The way Ike held his head, how Zed methodically checked and rechecked his heavy repeating blaster, how Karl gripped his seat to keep his fingers from shaking as they did before every single mission...

Ten seconds before the clock reached the halfway point, everyone's comms buzzed, once.

"Vega Actual to all Vega Elements, we're a go. Sunrider, deploy, deploy, deploy." Vance barked into his comm. It was as if a switch was thrown and as adrenaline flooded his system all traces of nervousness vanished to be replaced by cold, crystal clarity. The van's driver accelerated and banked to exit the vehicle stream leading away from the tower.

The Sergeant didn't need to see with his eyes to imaging what was happening outside. The rigged cars would be breaking ranks and heading towards their targets. When they flew over the landing port for the Hutt's visitors, two of them would blow off their side-doors, deploy a pair of missile pods and suppress any and all guards there, thus softening them for the following troopers. Only then, the drone operator would lead them to their final destinations.

"Vega Actual, Sunrider. Rider One and Two deployed." A heartbeat later, deep resonating boom shook the van followed by a second one a moments later. "Riders Three and Four engaging."

It was only thanks to the filters built into his helmet that Vance could hear missiles deploying over the whine of the van's straining repulsors. However, the following explosions were sharp and distinctive – a mixture of AP and anti-personnel warheads going off.

"Ten seconds! Brace! Alignment, right!" The driver shouted.

Two more warbling explosions washed over the vehicle.

"Brace!" Vance repeated the warning. He used one hand to hold on the seat, while he hugged his blaster to his chest with the other. Deceleration slammed into the NCO and the van came to a sudden stop with the whine of protesting repulsors. "Go, go, go! Cover to the right enemy to the left!" The Sergeant snapped.

Karl, who was at the back, next to the exit, was first to release himself from the seatbelts. He pulled off a concussion grenade, slammed a fist in the release panel and threw it out the moment the door began to slide open. Ike popped smoke a couple of seconds later and there was just enough time for some concealment to form when the ramp finally opened. Karl was out first, he went out and low, heading to the left to draw fire and provide cover for the rest of the troops. Ike was next and he went right to use the van for cover. The rest of the soldiers piled out and began scanning for targets.

The landing port was chock full with vehicles, as expected, which meant additional cover. A lot of said aircars were now burning courtesy to the improvised air-strike. There were bodies and pieces of bodies laying everywhere. Some were the Hutt's guards, others from the security of his guests.

It didn't matter to the Clone. He had his orders, everything moving that wasn't Vega Element was going to die. "Displace and take cover!" Vega ordered when it began obvious no one would immediately contest their landing. He followed his own order, while thanking whoever or whatever was listening for allowing them to go through the initial, most dangerous stage, unscratched.

"Contact, twelve o'clock!" Karl warned.

The Sergeant took cover after a sturdy, armoured aircar. He could see a lot of figures approaching through the smoke. "Light them up!"

=RK=

Four massive explosions shook the building seconds after I got sealed in with Greh'mora. It was good to know that another part of the plan went off.

"Order your people to stand down." I ordered the slug.

The massive bulk of the worm shook from the after-effects of the explosions, with his thick layers of fat jiggling like a pile of jelly.

"You won't get away with this, Mandalorian! I'll see you and your kin die screaming for this!"

Greh'mora blustered. I took aim and reduced his left stubby arm into a smoking ruin. He wailed in shock and pain. His large eyes widened in sheer disbelief that made me wonder how long has it been since anyone or anything caused him physical pain, much less injury.

"I won't ask as nicely again." I aimed at his remaining arm.

My emphatic sense warned me when the Hutt's pain and fear gave way to blinding fury. He roared incoherently and lunged at me, determined to crush me under his incredible bulk. It was shocking to see such a huge slab of fat move this fast. If it wasn't for the Force still boosting my speed and reactions, Greh'mora might have been able to fall on me even as I shot him dead or smeared him on the opposite wall with a mighty telekinetic push. Instead, I grabbed and froze him in place with my mind. It took him about a minute or so for the red hot rage blanking his mind to break. Meanwhile, the fighting outside went to a crescendo before slowly dying off. I could sense familiar signatures vanishing as some of my people paid the ultimate price.

This better be worth it.

"Call off your people!" I snarled at the Hutt once he was somewhat coherent.

Greh'mora stared at me for a long moment. His eyes looked around, searching for a way out.

I shot off his other arm and he screamed again. This time no spike or rage came over him. Instead, there was delicious dread worming its way within his slimy heart.

"Veil. You are dead! The whole galaxy saw you die at Bothawui!"

"I'm the Dark Lord of the Sith, worm. We are not so easily dispatched. Call off your people before I turn you into an objective lesson on why the whole galaxy was terrified of my people!"

Greh'mora looked at me and shook in fear. "You'll kill me anyway."

"If you don't follow my orders, I won't kill you. Nor would I allow you to die. Ever. I'll keep you alive, screaming and sane for a thousand years. You'll beg for death for ages before I consider allowing you such a mercy. Your kind has long memories. You know I'll do it."

Seeing a Hutt go green, then pale with terror was a fascinating experience. His mind-blowing terror brought a smile to my face.

"I'll... I'll need a communicator." His eyes went to a device built into his palanquin.

"Good boy." I put one of my blasters on its magnetic clamp and used the Force to activate the comm unit.

"This is Greh'mora!" The Hutt spoke in a shaky, halting voice. "Stand down! Now, damn you!"

"Let us hope, for your sake, that your people will comply. Now to business. You're about to make a huge donation into the Mandalorian cause. If it is large enough, I might consider not skinning you alive and using your skin as a rug." I reasonably asked him to cough up everything he owned.

=RK=

Part 6

=RK=

Greh'mora's tower

Nar Shaddaa

Being a relatively small time Hutt crime-boss on Nar Shaddaa paid, a lot. While I grilled Greh'mora, I found that in fact it was surprisingly lucrative. The liquid assets alone I persuaded him to cough up in the form of bank accounts were roughly equivalent to fifty million Republic credits. He had more in the form of easily and not so easily portable treasure in this tower and let's not forget the various businesses he owned, legal and otherwise. By the time I was sure Greh'mora was the most honest Hutt in existence, his hide was a bit fried and he could make a great impression of one eyed pirate once someone replaced his ruined arms with hook ended prosthetics.

Strictly speaking, our haul wasn't quite enough for what I wanted to buy from my new favourite arms-dealer, however some creative persuasion might yet get a deal done without involving the fleet directly. If that happened, it would make it worth the losses my people suffered so far. Half the soldiers who walked with me into the audience chamber were dead with a third of the survivors wounded to some extent, two of whom critical. When I made Greh'mora open the shutters, I dumped him away from his palanquin and once we loaded it with the most precious treasures of the Hutt, we would be using it to haul out the casualties too.

As far as our gracious host was concerned...

"HK, how is it going?"

The assassin droid was busy gleefully attaching an explosive collar to the Hutt.

"Almost done, Master!" HK sounded terribly pleased with himself. "If this large excuse for a meat-bag even tries to slither in a way we don't like, boom!"

Sometimes, that droid loved his job too much. "Splendid. Keep an eye on him." I looked Greh'mora in his one remaining eye. "There will be no unpleasant surprises on the way to your treasure room or inside, right my new friend?"

The Hutt shook in fear, then froze in terror when his explosive collar beeped in displeasure.

"Nnnooo..." Greh'mora moaned. "No tricks! No surprises!"

"Good slug. Keep it this way and you might even make it out of this without losing any more pieces." I spoke in a reassuring tone that for some reason made his fear rise even further. "Rex, hold this position. We're loading what loot we find in his treasure room and will be back ASAP. Do your best for the wounded."

Greh'mora's remaining thugs turned out to be either unusually disciplined and listened to his orders to make themselves scarce or simply figured out that working for him was a losing proposition and left for greener pastures. Anyway, the only things we encountered en route to the treasure room were a few protocol and maintenance droids and a bunch of sealed doors. Greh'mora eagerly provided the necessary codes to pass through.

"That's..." One of the Clones trailed off once we got inside.

The treasure room had more in common with a museum that what I expected. My most recent experience with something like that, the hoard of that pirate who managed to catch and dis-arm Dooku was more in line with my expectations. Well, there was a lot of gemstones, assorted precious metals, sealed chests with various non-electronic currencies and all kinds of art pieces that might cost a fortune if they were in fact genuine and you had the time to find the right buyers.

"Boys, begin loading the palanquin. Greh'mora, be a good Hutt and tell us which are the most expensive pieces."

The Hutt gave out a pained moan at the sight of his precious loot being ransacked, yet he eagerly complied the moment I raised a hand his way.

We spent almost an hour looting and making sure Greh'mora did in fact sign off all his accounts and businesses before heading for the landing platforms. We took a two palanquins loaded to the brim with loot and wounded with the Hutt slithering behind. HK walked behind him as a further incentive to keep him honest.

I was expecting for the other shoe to drop once we were about to leave – either for Greh'mora's people to regain their nerve and attempt to liberate their master, perhaps one of his allies or even enemies to make a play. Instead, we reached the platforms without accident. No one attacked while Vance reported about his part of the operation, including the three casualties, two of whom were fatal. My people loaded our vehicles and a few more or less intact ones we liberated from less deserving people and there was still no complications rearing their ugly heads. It was decidedly odd and unnerving.

"Can I go now?" Greh'mora pleaded.

I got into the aircar that my team used to get here and looked at the Hutt. "Sure. I promised you I won't kill you or torture you any more if you was a good boy."

Greh'mora sagged with relief.

"You however, kriffed up with my people. HK." I nodded at the assassin droid.

"It's a pleasure, Master." He pressed a button and the Hutt's collar beeped.

"You promised!"

"I promised not to kill you myself. I never said a thing about ordering you dead. Have a nice stay in hell."

The aircar's door slid closed just in time to shield me. A dull flash and subdued thump echoed over the platform and a shower of gore rained all around us.

=RK=

Gord's Bigges Gunz!

Nar Shaddaa

After the raid, we spent a few hours consolidating, taking care of the wounded, our gear and going over the loot. Once we had all of that more or less sorted out, we loaded three vans with treasure and headed straight for Gord's. The fleet was on standby in case of trouble or to sent crews and security for the ships if the deal went without a hitch.

The Gamorean arms-dealer met us in one of his warehouses. This one was choke-full with crates and shipping containers of all stripes.

"That was audacious, Mandalorian. It was you who went after Greh'mora, right? You put me in a difficult position."

To my utter lack of surprise, this time around there were a lot of heavy armed guards crawling all over the place.

"I'm about to make it even worse." I removed my helmet and smiled to the arms-dealer. "You have a decision to make, Gord. You can have everything we took from Greh'mora. Over fifty million in assorted currencies that you can spend here, a lot of treasure you can either sell or gift to your associates, his various businesses. You can look up for a nice contract to outfit the Mandalorian navy with all kinds of weaponry."

Gord's eyes narrowed in recognition.

"Mandalore." He sighed. "I should have known. Your war has been very good for business, your people too." Gord looked at his guards who were all tense and ready to spring to action. "They won't make a bit of a difference, would they?"

"I expect them to be much better that Greh'mora's goons. That means they would last a bit longer. You aren't ready to face a Sith." It was a simple trick to make myself look terrifying. A subtle shift of the voice, a push for the Force to sent waves of unease and fear into the hearts of anyone who wasn't with me and any potential skirmish here was already half-won. A reputation like mine did occasionally come in very useful.

"And you have a fleet that got away from Bothawui intact." Gord grumbled.

"The ships you're offering will make a nice addition to it. I'm even willing to field test them for you. If they prove as useful as expected, I might have yet another deal for you. What is going to be, Gord?"

I could see him struggle with his pride, greed and fear of Hutt complications. However, the Hutts weren't in his warehouse, I was.

"How much money did you swindle from Greh'mora?" He asked.

I relaxed a bit. We were on.