Chapter 30 - Sith Do Not Negotiate
Kshhhhhh
"This skiff is capable of greater speeds."
From the front of the dune skiff, Vader watched impassively as the desert terrain zipped by. They'd left Mos Eisley behind only minutes ago and now skimmed across the harsh, hot landscape at an appreciable speed. But not fast enough for the Dark Lord.
"Ehm," Schous stumbled. "Much faster and we might lose control."
The rough canvas hood over Vader's helmet turned slightly. "I need only one guide. Do not mistake my mercy as without limit." Without waiting, Vader raised a black glove and the throttle cranked up. As the velocity increased, Schous panicked and set his focus on the controls, doing all he could to maintain mastery over the skiff as it careened ever faster across Tatooine. Off in the far distance, a trio of Bantha crested a wide dune.
Kshhhhhh
"Tusken."
Arliel Schous and Norba Nuum shivered. A moment ago they'd been baking under the sweltering assault of Tatooine's twin suns. Sweat rolled down Norba's face and Schous panted heavily under fur poorly suited to the desert planet. For the briefest of moments, they found relief. Then the oppressive bite of murderous cold sank like knives deep within their very cores. Even the frigid desert nights were no match for the harsh chill running up and down their spines and both wished for a thick blanket and warm fire to hold the dark at bay.
"Dark?" Norba whispered. For a moment she felt the night pressing down, beyond the meager fringes of her surroundings lurked Force alone knew.
Then it was over. Once more, the two stars burned down upon her.
The heat and haze returned and Schous started panting again as he maintained command of the skiff's increased speed.
At the bow of the ship, if they'd had the nerve to approach the figure in the tan cloak, they would have found rime frost and warped metal.
###
Boba Fett adjusted his heading and checked the emission readings. He was still on the Dune Skiff's tail, only behind by five or so minutes.
"Did they speed up? Unsafe."
Judging by what Boba's X-34 landspeeder told him, the skiff suddenly rocketed forward and put out a burst of fuel. "And are those idiots taking the Jedi straight to Jabba?" After all the deaths he'd discovered, he couldn't imagine the Hutt would be happy with a ruthless murderer being granted an unscheduled audience. "Though, maybe I'd do the same…" Boba saw the corpses at the cantina. The thought of watching someone kill so many with barely a move was sobering. "And not like the Jedi," he added aloud. His personal animosity aside, Boba Fett encountered a handful of Force users during the months leading up to the fall of the Republic. They never struck him as the sort to kill so easily or indiscriminately.
"So, whats different about this one?"
Boba knew the Jedi had fallen after the Clone War and the end of the Republic. Declared enemies and driven from public life, but his time in the Outer Rim left a dearth of information unavailable.
At the moment, the Fett's thoughts strayed towards his options. He could shoot down the skiff, a blaster mounted to the forward hood of his speeder would make that easy enough. "But if this stranger is so desperate to meet Jabba, perhaps learning what he wants will give me a chance." Did the Jedi want to ally with a crime syndicate in hopes of striking back against this new Galactic Empire spreading its influence across the Core? He pushed his speeder faster, jumping a dune and spying the quarry in the distance, a blur of movement against the pale sea of sand.
Boba came to a decision. He'd follow for now. They had to stop sooner or later, after all. And when they did? Well, he'd been planning and preparing to fight Jedi for a long time.
###
Schous tried to surreptitiously lower the throttle and slow the skiff down to a more manageable speed, but when he did, his paw found the lever wouldn't budge. Putting more muscle behind his pull, Vader raised a hand and the barest hint of pressure on the furry throat was enough to convince him to abandon any hope of slowing down.
In the meantime, Darth Vader felt the distant focus on him. A sensation, a presence in the Force so familiar after his time with the Clones.
Yet unique.
Recalling the attempted assassination of Mace Windu, he recognized the subtle differences.
Kshhhhhh
"So it truly is the son of Jango Fett," Vader said under his breath. "Prove your use to my Empire."
As he considered potential uses for the best clone of the preeminent bounty hunter, the Dark Lord sensed a mighty presence off starboard of the skiff. Currently they were traveling along the Northern Dune Sea, skimming the edge of Mesra Plateau. Somewhere, out amongst the B'omar Flats, a great and mighty shadow in the Force impressed its monstrous life energy on Vader. He turned to the north and reached out through the Dark Side. Something out there shrank in response to the Sith's probing, hiding within the sea of dust.
"Sarlacc out that way," Norba said casually. "Jabba feeds it. For entertainment."
Kshhhhhh
"Then it is little more than a pet." As if the words were a slap in the face, the Sarlacc's Force signature cringed away and he turned his mind from the creature. He considered it a stomach amidst the dunes. And he had other prey to hunt.
"Once we swing around the mountains, it'll be a straight path to the palace," Norba said.
"I do not require commentary. Only see me to Jabba and you will secure your lives."
After that, neither Norba or Schous spoke a word.
###
Windswept rock, baking beneath twin suns, stood stark and pale against the sight of Jabba's palace. Vader swung over the side of the skiff, durasteel boots hitting the ground and kicking up dust to match his sand colored cloak. Racing up the dry embankment behind them, Boba's landspeeder closed in, but the Sith paid it no attention. Nor did he give any mind to the two who brought him here. Hostages more than anything else, they remained seated, afraid to move.
Setting his sights on the great door, Darth Vader strode forward and waited. In moments a mechanical eye popped out from within a small hatch and extended on a long metal stalk, staring directly at the unannounced guest with its orange photo-receptor.
Kshhhhhh
"I would speak with Jabba."
"Tee chuta hhat yudd!"
The rude gatekeeper droid retreated back inside the hatch after the dismissive outburst. Or at least, it tried. Before the eye fully pulled itself back, Vader's left hand emerged from beneath his cloak and the black glove opened. A grinding noise issued from within the droid's hole.
"This is not a request. The door will open." Ever so slightly, his hand rotated and the fingers began to close. "One way or another." Metal warping under pressure rang out from within the gateway and the droid's one eye frantically bounced around in its housing, searching for answers. From inside, Vader's augmented hearing made out grunts and squeals in some alien tongue.
"Let him in." A voice from behind the Dark Lord said as it approached the gateway.
Vader released his Force hold on the robot and it pulled back in to safety as the massive alloy door opened for them.
Kshhhhhh
"A wise decision."
"You ruined my viewfinder from almost a klick. Doors probably won't stop you. You'd melt your way in with that lightsaber, if nothing else."
"Well observed, Boba Fett," Vader said without turning.
"You know me!?" The young man's hand strayed toward a blaster.
"I know you, yes. And I know you are not so foolish to think that weapon would leave its holster before I take the head from your shoulders."
Boba froze, but rather than the cold sweat of fear, the fire of rage burned deep inside his heart. Did this Jedi know how his father died? Was he responsible?
The gate rumbled open at last and Vader strode in. Several Gamorrean pig guards stood in his way, armed with axes and maces. "You wish to know the color of my blade?" Vader moved so slowly, with such a calm confidence at first. Then came the rush. Boba could barely believe the speed of his strike. A blur. Hilt in hand. Green plasma bursting out. Twirling. Flashing. Dancing.
Behind the Mandalorean visor, Boba Fett couldn't be sure he even blinked. Three Gamorrean hit the dirt, the stench of burning flesh rising into the boiling mid-day heat. Deactivating the Jedi weapon, Vader turned back to Boba and said, "If you wish to learn more, follow." Stalking into the gloomy shade within, Vader didn't wait for any answer, but the hint of a smile touched his battle-scarred face when he heard Jango's clone trotting at his heels. He didn't slow until a male Twi'lek, pale and wan of complexion, stood before them.
"I am Bib Fortuna. My master bids thee welcome, stranger. Might I ask the nature of your business with the great Jabba?"
Without missing a step, Vader's hand shot out, snatching the front of Fortuna's cloak and lifting him bodily off the ground. Holding the servant at arms length, the Sith never stopped walking. "My business is to speak with the Hutt. Not a mere functionary."
Upon entering what the crime lord called his court, Vader released the Twi'lek who fell to the ground. The guards, bounty hunters, hitters, and assassins all made to draw weapons until a wave of malevolence washed over the room.
Kshhhhhh
Standing before the corpulent slug, he removed his hood for the first time since landing on Tatooine and then stood, arms crossed and radiating the full physical strength and confidence a seven foot tall Sith commanded. Even here, protected from the harsh heat of twin suns, everyone felt the temperature plummet. More than a few seasoned killers took a few steps back. As the gleaming black helmet looked back and forth, none had the will to meet the void of his gaze. Except Jabba. That, at least, earned the Hutt a bit of respect. "I am Darth Vader. Dark Lord of the Sith and Master of the Galactic Empire."
That sent a stir through the crowd. But it also broke a sort of spell his entrance held over them. Before, he was an unknown. Now he became solid. Corporeal. Real. And that made a few of the killers shake off their fear.
For long millenia, the Jedi eschewed fear, knowing it was part of the path leading to the Dark Side of the Force. However, fear was also necessary. Vital even, when it came to survival. Fear keeps one from foolhardy choices. Fear of falling? Guards against straying too close to the edge of a cliff. Fear of a bite? Stops children from poking dangerous animals. And the instinctive fear everyone felt when Vader marched into Jabba's court kept them alive. But knowing who he was, not a mystery, not an unknown, rather a living being, pushed them perilously close to the cliff. Convinced them they could prod at an apex predator.
"This is the outer rim!" one brave figure said.
"You ain't in the Empire anymore, 'your highness', Hahaha!" another goaded. It was up in the air if any of them actually believed Vader. Either way, he was alone and surrounded, enough for everyone to consider him a minimal threat at best.
More than a few jeers came in a variety of alien languages as well, but Vader didn't even bother to turn from Jabba. "Hutt," he said loudly enough to be heard throughout the court, "Your mongrels require training."
That single comment was enough. One member of the crowd charged forward, wielding a vibro blade dagger in one hand and a blaster in the other. "Show you, asshole!" Extending the blaster, the thug fired two shots which Vader caught in the palm of his hand then closed his fist, crushing the weapon through the Force. Dropping it on instinct, the vibro blade thrust forward towards the Sith's throat.
And it froze, an inch away.
The thug, confused for a moment, grabbed with both hands and shoved, but nothing changed. Then he tried to pull it away, but it was stuck fast, as though jammed in stone.
Kshhhhhh
"So, eleven lives are insufficient. Perhaps twelve. With one hand, Vader grabbed his assailant by the face, lifting him into the air. Mechanical fingers squeezed and between them, the humanoid's eyes went wide. Dropping the knife and grabbing the Sith's wrist and fingers, Vader's victim struggled to stop the mounting pressure. For a few seconds, he grunted, growled and cursed. Then, the sound of cracking, splintering bone, and the scream. Not screams, scream. One long howl of pain and fear, filling the chamber and chilling the soul of everyone watching.
A blood curdling wail filled the room. No words. Only mind splitting agony and terror. The grim currency of the one and only Dark Lord of the Sith. The rest of the court stood, transfixed. Even Jabba himself watched in a sort of sick fascination. Bone grinding on bone. The wet squelch of writhing flesh.
A sudden silence signaled the end. Vader released and a lifeless corpse hit the stone floor. Gore dripped from his black glove and he turned his attention back to Jabba. "I require two things, Hutt. In return, when my Empire arrives to claim the Outer Rim, you will be recognized as the lawful ruler of this sector."
###
Amongst the shifting sands of the Northern Dune Sea, a tribe of Tusken, called Sand People by the civilized races, watched over their herd of bantha. Deep within a settlement of tents and yurts, a shaman carved pendants from the bones of vicious Krayt Dragons. This creature in particular happened to be young. Nonetheless, any Dragon of the dunes was a threat, and the warriors who felled it were honored by feasts and song. Now, however, a disquiet, like rare mist descending into the valley, wrapped around the shaman's shoulders. She shivered. The spirits, ancestral guides of the Tusken, warned of coming danger.
"Dragon?" she questioned. But this felt worse. Cold and ruthless. "Sarlaac? No, far. Won't come here."
This felt dangerous, hateful, malicious, vengeful.
Angry.
Intelligent.
"Dark."
The spirits of the fore-bearers shivered around her. Even they felt the icy glare of some distant… thing. An enemy.
"Destroyer. Shadow of Wrath."
The Tusken long held to a prophecy of some dark figure, a god of rage and desolation, bringing ruin to the Dune-folk. Whether it was a punishment or a winnowing of the undeserving, such was unknown. A time of decimation and turmoil. That was all the shaman understood.
She shot up and charged through her tent flaps to speak with the tribal chief.
###
Bib Fortuna, Jabba the Hutt's right hand, long grew used to his position. He thought fear a concept far behind him. Fear of the strong? He was the strong. Only Jabba held greater power on this dirt ball. Fear of death? Maybe in some far-off distant way.
Now, he was beside the Hutt, staring down annihilation itself.
"Th-the great Jabba asks what you want?"
Vader's helmet turned, and the darkness beyond the galaxy glared through Fortuna, as though barely regarding him worth notice.
Kshhhhhh
"First, the Mandolorean boy. He will work for the Empire."
That sent a stir. Boba Fett, despite his youth, proved useful to Jabba. If he lost the young bounty hunter it would be a blow to his operations. More than a few plotting against the crime lord found their final breath at the end of Boba's blasters. Any fractures at the base of the Hutt's ruling power had been dealt with, often thanks to Fett. Still, as a corpse cooled at Vader's feet and a pool of blood dripped down the grates to the space beneath Jabba's throne, no one seemed in a hurry to strike against the stranger.
Jabba grunted in his own tongue.
Fortuna nodded and said, "Why should the Great Jabba grant this?"
Kshhhhhh
"Make no mistake, I did not come to strike a deal like some petty warlord. However…" Grim silence hung over the chamber and the temperature started to climb up once more. A long low rumble seemed to come up from the depths of the ground, like the sigh of some great beast long forgotten. All eyes turned on Vader as dust drifted down from the steel rafters. "I am not unwilling to make an offer. A sign of the Empire's, of my, good will. Accede to me, Jabba the Hutt. When I leave the planet with Fett, there will be no doubt who rules. The only ones to challenge your position then? The mad and the suicidal."
"Wh-what is the second request?" Fortuna translated.
"Give me all information available on the oldest known Krayt Dragon."
###
Boba trotted after Vader, having collected all his weapons. He wasn't sure how to feel, being dismissed from Jabba's service like that, but the Hutt seemed pleased with the outcome. Naturally, the information network wasn't limited to Tatooine, or even the Tatoo system. Rather, a whole team of brokers supplied intel to the Hutt from across the known galaxy. And the new Empire's movements were no secret. They obviously intended to expand across every system they could get their hands on. Even Boba Fett would admit the name 'Galactic Empire' was something of a hint. Still, he remained in the dark about his own purpose in all this.
"I know I'm good," he said. Like his father, he didn't hold much use for false modesty. "But why would you want me?"
Kshhhhhh
"Cad Bane speaks highly of you."
"You know Cad!?"
Vader stopped, then slowly turned to look down at the young man. "I know many, Bane among them. And I knew the clones. I sense you are beyond them." With those cryptic words, Vader walked on, saying no more. As they approached the door, the eye droid opened it without fuss or complaint, never emerging from its hole. Then they were back out under the harsh suns and Vader ignored the skiff which brought him here. Instead he stepped into the driver's seat of Boba's land speeder. Sparing a glance at Schous and Norba Noom he wasn't surprised to see them deflate in relief. After what he'd learned back in Mos Eisley and inside Jabba's palace, he understood the feeling. Without questioning Vader's commandeering of his vehicle, Boba obediently climbed in the passenger seat.
Black glove flying over the controls, the cloaked man brought the craft to life and expertly spun it around, zipping down the ridge and out into the Dune Sea towards their first destination. Even Boba, who customized the speeder to his personal tastes couldn't help being impressed with the way Vader handled it. It took Boba Fett months to master what his new employer did in seconds. Soon they skimmed along Tatooine's sandy surface at speeds even the best pilots in the system couldn't handle. The only reason the speeder even had the power to do so was Boba's custom mods, but he'd meant those for straightaways near the city, not on the crags of Mesra or the flowing dunes.
As they put Jabba's Palace and the plateau behind them, Boba took a few surreptitious glances at the black armored helmet under a canvas hood.
Kshhhhhh
"Speak."
Boba flinched, surprised the Emperor noticed. Few would. But as he had no reason to shy away from conversation, he asked what was on his mind. "Why a Krayt?"
"A challenge. And a prize. Only the oldest and densest pearl is of use. But do not try to deceive me, Son of Jango. Ask your true question."
"So you knew."
"I have known. Known since long before I landed on this… planet." Vader spat. Boba felt the harsh heat of day fall away, just like in the cool of Jabba's chamber. "You seek a Jedi, one armed with a particular lightsaber. Not green or blue. Nor red, as a Sith should wield." Vader turned to face Boba and the young boy shuddered, sting of frost touching his skin. "A purple blade."
Under the Mandalorean helmet, Boba's eyes shot wide open. "How did you-?"
"I am Sith. And the Emperor. The man you seek was called Mace Windu. Jedi Master and member of their council."
"Was?" Boba said, chest tightening with what he felt coming.
"He died by my hand."
So that was it. Everything Boba worked towards, and it already happed thanks to his new boss. A great feeling of emptiness yawned before him. What else did he even have, driving him forward?
The young Fett looked up as the speeder slowed, cresting a massive dune, until it came to a stop and overlooked a Tusken camp in the distance.
Kshhhhhh
"His saber is now on Coruscant. In the office of one Sano Sauro. A worm with nothing to offer my Empire, other than greed and an all consuming lust for prestige and social approval. Deal with him and you may claim the weapon which took your progenitor."
Boba stared into the sandy distance, unsure how to process the storm of emotions cascading inside him. A sense of relief, now his father's killer was gone? Sorrow for not doing it himself? Regret, now that he had nothing before him? While he was wrestling with unexpected feelings, Vader, already outside the speeder, stalked down the dune towards the Tusken encampment. "Follow," he ordered. "You speak the tongue these animals use."
It was true. Boba could talk with the Tusken. He acted as Jabba's right hand when it came time to deal with them. Various tribes, some friendlier than others, would often accept gifts from the Hutt and refrain from attacking his caravans as they passed across the barren regions of Tatooine. For a criminal enterprise, it was little more than the cost of doing business. To the Sand People, it acted as a tribute. They considered themselves the true and rightful masters of the desert planet. Legends amongst their people told of the ancient days, when water flowed across the surface. Now, only scattered wells and deep springs in hidden caves produced life giving liquid. For the more aggressive tribes, it was sacred. This was why they raided moisture farms. More than one outpost lost people to the attacks. A few were found, days or weeks later, tortured to death for touching the sacred mist of the Tusken homeworld.
As they approached, Boba recognized what he saw. A group of warriors, hunting out amongst the dunes. Probably for womp rats. He hated the taste of the vermin, but would be the first to admit they made for cheap protein in a pinch. As they approached, he shouted a greeting in the Sand People language. Not so much out of friendliness, but because he heard the Tusken grunting to each other about the intruders and saw Vader's right hand disappear under his cloak. If that saber came out, there'd be death. He was sure of that. Whatever else he thought of the Tusken, he didn't want his new employer to kill them.
Vader stood, fists on his belt, a brutal monolith against the sand as Boba tried to get information on Krayt migrations. It wasn't easy. The dragons were a vital resource, not to mention nigh sacred, to the Tusken. Giving information to unknown outsiders, even with Boba Fett as mediator, was unusual. As the seconds ticked by, hunters arguing amongst each other and with Boba, Vader's ire radiated outwards. In time, even a few Sand People started to look around as the confusion spread. Even in their thermal regulating outfits, they didn't miss the sudden drop in temperature. Unlike most, Boba thought on his feet. He quickly recognized the same feeling he first noticed in Jabba's Palace. Spreading cold and the sensation of frost licking at his fingers. Despite the full light of a Tatooine day.
Darth Vader's patience rapidly dwindled.
Kshhhhhh
"If they will not give you the information…"
"No!" Boba shouted, startling the Tusken and sending several reaching for their blasters and gaffi sticks.
At last, the Sand People hunters noticed the thermal shift and turned to Vader.
"Speak or die."
"They don't know Galactic Common!" Boba pleaded.
"Unfortunate," Vader said and his hand emerged from beneath the black cape and brown cloak, lightsaber hilt at the ready. The green blade exploded out, bright, even against the white sand. "But there are others of their kind to question."
Somewhere deep in the mists of time, Anakin Skywalker returned, from before Darth Vader. Before the Empire. Before he become… what he was. A time when Shmi Skywalker still lived. Until her capture and torture by one of the tribes. Unbeknown to Darth Vader, his rage and sorrow radiated off him in waves, poisoning the very air. Boba Fett hit the sand, breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Even the Tusken, masters of surviving the harsh desert planet, dropped. The Force rippled out from the Dark Lord and the sands of his Homeworld rippled, as if a loyal hound, in response. Memories flooded the Sith's mind and spilled out. Boba saw images of a kind, loving woman, beaten and tortured by the filthy animals that called this planet home.
Fett's fingers grabbed at the grains of sand and he growled, "They deserve to die for what they did to her!" Behind his helmet, a pair of eyes narrowed at the writhing Tusken, paralyzed by the same psychic energy that sent him into the dune. "I'll kill every last one of you!" He managed to get a knee under him and rise, but not before the hunters did. Raising Gaffi sticks, Boba stared in horror as the Tusken beat one another into oozing pulps of blood and guts.
Then it was over.
Kshhhhhh
"Tell me what I desire, or the same will befall your entire, worthless tribe."
One of the surviving Tusken ripped off his mask and puked into the gritty sand. Boba smelled burning ozone before he heard the horrific hum of a lightsaber.
"So be it."
Boba Fett, as a boy, saw Jedi use lightsabers as weapons to dispatch their foe. Until today, he never realized the Power of the Force and a plasma blade had such uses in torturing information from the unwilling.
Kshhhhhh
"At times, only the Dark Side keeps me alive. When I burned, when Palpatine's abominable weapon tried to smite my fleet, and when Infil'a fought me. I survived it all. Imagine, animal, how long I can keep you breathing before you give me the knowledge I seek." Boba raised himself up and watched the last of the Tusken writhe in pain. An open wound, burned and smoldering, closed before his eyes.
"Lord Vader, please, wait," Boba called.
The blank eyes of Vader's helmet turned upon the boy. And that is what Boba felt. Blank. Indifference. Like a child before the incomprehensible cold galaxy.