After his rescue from the Emperor's clutches on Hoth,
Xol returns to his modified Gladiator Class Star Destroyer.
His thoughts ever stained with the fact that the Emperor is capable of cloning Yautja with his level of power. Should the leader of the Empire be able to do such a thing on a massive scale just as was done at the time of Dex's birth, the galaxy will be a smoldering ruin and Xol will only have himself to blame.
This new Emperor is capable of so much but only if he is allowed the time to do so.
Xol, the reformed Dark Jedi turned revolutionary, may be the only hope for the galaxy or perhaps its undoing...
With a hiss, the door to the room slides open, and Dex dressed in his fatigues walks in, eating a muja fruit with his bootknife.
“Hey big guy, you've been in here a while.” Dex remarks. “You need to eat something, and plus don't you think a bacta bath might be better than those patches? You aint exactly dealing with a couple of scraped knees.”
“DX-1165 I know you mean well,” Xol explains. “However, if you had woken up as often as I have in a bacta tank or regenerative chamber you'd opt for the patches too. The Force is also a path to healing, so my injuries are not nearly as severe as they once were. You are correct in your assessment that I require nourishment, though perhaps something a bit more substantial than muja fruit may be in order.”
“I hear ya Xol, but on a ship full of droids, the galley is a little bare.”
“Then we must resupply, we move against the Empire soon and we may not have a second chance once we do. Where is the nearest world we can do so safely without attracting attention?”
“In this oh so discreet Star Destroyer that the Empire is sure to be looking for?” Dex answers sarcastically. “There is a market station I know about a short jump away and we could take the Wayfarer. A cargo hauler, even one as heavily modified as ours shouldn't stand out in a crowd of em.”
“Very well, gather Qiin, Boomah, and Wompit. I'll meet you at the Wayfarer.”
Dex unquestioningly leaves, walking down the hallway towards his quarters while still carving away at his fruit.
After gathering his equipment and armour, Xol heads down the opposite way in the direction of the bridge. Once there, he presses a series of controls on the command chair and jacks in his wrist gauntlet. With an affirmative beep, the bridge lights go dim and Xol exits the bridge, making his way toward the hangar bay.
As the Yautja enters the hangar about to embark on another escapade, he glances around the near empty bay. The droid crew busily scurry back and forth conducting the ever necessary repairs, ensuring nothing is in disrepair before the battle against the Empire. He can still see the blackened scorch marks from the battle against the Rodian pirates. He knows that for all it's faults, this ship is home and may even become his tomb should he fail to defeat the Emperor.
That last solemn thought breaks him of his nostalgic daydreaming and he briskly walks toward the Wayfarer where he can see Qiin waiting for him at the end of it's gangway.
“Master it is good to see you healing well,” the young woman says with a smile.
“Apprentice, what troubles you?” Xol quickly replies.
“But how...?” Qiin stammers.
“Your heartfelt greeting would have been just as appropriate aboard the ship in the company of friends. So, I can only conclude that something troubles your mind. Something perhaps you wish to say to me in private. Do not hesitate young one, speak your grievances. Empty your mind of worry.”
“My master, I have a terrible feeling about the future. I have foreseen much death and sadness.”
“We both know that the future is always in a state of flux. Do not be controlled by it, a masterfully powerful young Jedi Knight I once knew succumbed to that very thing and it inevitably destroyed him. Do you understand?”
“Yes Master Xol.”
“Excellent. Now let us get aboard before Dex decides to leave us behind.”
The young Nautolan follows her master, a look of worry still spread across her face. As the pair enter the loading area of the Wayfarer, they see Wompit excitedly strapped into his seat awaiting liftoff. Qiin seats herself next to the immense Savrip while Xol continues on to the pilot's compartment.
The Wayfarer leaves the hangar of the Gladiator with a triumphant burst of thrust before dropping speed momentarily and plunging headlong into hyperspace. The ship now underway, the crew relaxes in the common area, eating what palatable rations remain and enjoying a game of Dejarik. Dex occasionally leaves to monitor P1 and P2's status but otherwise the group carries on a shared discussion like those conducted at a family meal.
“Dex illuminate us,” Xol inquires awaiting Qiin's next move on the Dejarik table. “What do you know of this market station we're visiting?”
“I have to be honest with you Xol ol' buddy, I've never been. I got the coordinates from that smuggler Han Solo. He told me it's a good place to pick up supplies should you not want to attract too much Imperial interference. Apparently it's ran by some Outer Rim syndicate calling itself Dark Star. They might seem corporate but the Holonet says different, these are some real tough customers, but nothing we can't handle.”
“Most reassuring as always my old friend.”
Some time later after a few games have been played and Wompit has been well fed on protein paste rations. Dex is called to the bridge by P2 for docking with the market station. Curious, Xol follows interested in seeing what sort of environment he'll be walking into. To his surprise, the station is much more than it's name implies. Though an obvious space station is at it's center the surrounding structures are modified derelict craft, mostly old spacecraft from the Clone Wars. Their aged hulls spliced with illuminated signs and holographic bulletins. Interconnecting them all are intricately constructed transparisteel walkways. People and droids like insects scuttling from one retrofitted craft to another.
As the Wayfarer gets closer, Xol can see that patrolling the outer hulls are Viper droids, picking off space parasites like Mynocks that don't move off. As the Wayfarer moves into final docking position, Xol is reminded of the impoverished conditions of Ord Mantell and the many pains his crew suffered there. He knows that the Empire is what they must avoid but wandering into a den of venomous serpents is not much of a second choice.
The docking clamps hook onto the Wayfarer and with a rough shake, secure into mooring before the sealed entrance hall is extended out to the ship. With a secondary shunt, the hall mag-seals to the ship's gangway. The crew in the meantime has gathered in the loading bay awaiting the moment when they can exit the ship. With the Wayfarer fully secured, Dex leaving the ship under the watch of P1 and P2 exits into the bay. Boomah, seeing the clone trooper arrive, hits the airlock release and the doors open.
A rush of aromatic air wafts into the dock as Xol and his band make their way into the complex. A few feet in they already see the crowds moving among the stalls are quite dense and difficult to manoeuvre as a group.
“Alright you bunch of monkey-lizards!” Dex shouts overtop the bustling crowd. “You all know what we need so try and round it up. Also, if you run into any trouble, use your comm! Xol and I are going to head to the station, Wompit, Boomah and Qiin, stick to the market and keep your eyes open for anything interesting.”
“Okee-day, Boss'n...” Boomah exaggeratedly replies, disgusted by his surroundings.
The two groups split off away from one another disappearing into the churning masses of market-goers. Xol and Dex make their way through the crowd towards the central hub of the space station. Along the way it appears some of the other visitors to the station are giving the pair a wide berth. Xol disregards their behaviour as he has seen it every day he has been in this galaxy.
The duo reach the entryway to the station and stop to rest taking in a stall that sells Outer Rim weaponry. As Dex inspects an antique slugthrower, Xol notices an illuminated red dot appear on the commando's back. Quickly flipping to his infrared vision mode, he can see that the dot is coming from a weapon sight a far distance away back the way they just came. Pushing Dex with the Force, Xol throws the surprised clone into the market stall just as a blaster rifle shot rings out.
Xol uses his helmet to track the would be assassin, and jumps above the crowd onto one of the sturdier market stalls and begins a pursuit. Dex on the other hand is clammering out of the pile of weapons he's fallen into and follows Xol through the crowd.
“Outta the way ya bunch of nerfherders!” Dex shouts, firing off a couple rounds into the air.
The frightened crowd near Dex drops to the ground, some screaming as they head for cover. With no obstruction, the clone commando has a clear shot at the gunman. He takes aim with his blaster and fires a short burst.
Blazing red bolts of blaster fire zip down the street and erupt with sparks and flame upon hitting the fully armoured assailant. With a thud, the attacker falls to the ground and ceases to move. The crowd somewhat confident that the fighting is over, begins to slowly stand up glancing back and forth between the fallen sniper and Dex who is still walking toward the body, his gun drawn and at the ready.
Xol jumps down from the tops of the stalls and through his heat vision can see the gunner is still alive, but barely. The heartbeat he can hear through his sensors is getting more and more faint. He walks to the body and turns it over. The helmet worn by the gunman hides his face so Xol removes it. Underneath is an exhausted, wheezing Mon Calamari. His bold yellow eyes fearful as he sees the Yautja standing over him.
“I had no choice, it was for my family...” The brownish coloured alien explains in gasps whilst raising an outstretched hand with something in it.
Upon closer inspection, Xol can see that it is a small information disk used in most holographic readers, nothing sophisticated.
“What is this assassin?” the Yautja demands. “Who are you and why have you tried to kill my friend?”
No response comes from the Calamari as he heaves his last breath and dies. Xol closes the young alien's eyes before standing up and placing the disk inside his wrist reader. A few seconds pass and a digitized voice message begins to play.
“Tuulan of the Golden Reef clan, your troubles with my employer stretch far beyond the gaming tables. You have a debt that can only be cleansed by blood but, you're in luck. A very special bounty as you know is being broadcast on all Holonet frequencies throughout the Core Systems and the Outer Rim. The bounty is for a rogue Jedi named Xol and his companions. The Empire is offering one percent of the total income they receive from their spice mining operations on Kessel for the head of Xol and the elimination and/or imprisonment of his cohorts. This is all well and good but no one knows where to find him, except for me. Meet me at the Dark Star market in three days and if you succeed my employer will erase your debt and ensure the safe return of your loving wife and three adorable little fish babies. If you make any attempt to go to the Empire behind my back for the reward I will filet you myself. Do not worry about finding me should you be successful, I will find you.”
The message ends as abruptly as it began. Xol turns to Dex who is then just arriving and plays the recording again. Dex listens intently before kneeling down and frisking the dead body for any more clues. With a sigh, he stands and looks to Xol.
“Well good buddy, I don't know what to tell you. Some innocent gambler gets made an accomplice in an attempted headhunt for you and I, gets outfitted with some pretty state of the art weapons and armour but yet is so underqualified for the task that he misses his target?”
“He only missed my dear friend because I moved you out of harms way,” Xol says in an educating tone.
“Don't get me wrong Xol, you saved me back there but this Mon Calamari wasn't goin' for me. That bolt was meant for you, he's just such a bad shot, he fired at me.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Listen, you heard the recording. This guy is obviously more comfortable in a casino than in a war and also this helmet he has on has some sort of advanced tracking system hooked up through the holonet. This guy wasn't alone when he took the shot, he had someone coaching him along the way, I'd bet my life on it. Besides, tagging you first is what I would have done. Nothing personal big guy.”
Xol understanding but still a little unnerved at his friend's cold logic looks around to see if anyone in the crowd is paying particularly close attention to the pair as they stand over the body.
From down the pathway, hiding among a pile of old machine parts, Xol can see the glint from a droid's eyes. Scanning the rest of his surroundings, he can see that the one hidden droid is not alone, more than a dozen lie in wait but have yet to make their move.
“It's a trap,” Xol whispers to Dex. “We were supposed to be corralled here, and now we're out in the open.”
Dex pretends to continue rummaging in the dirt around the body but responds to the Yautja via the comlink, “So what's the plan big guy?”
“It's nearly an even split ahead of us, you go nine o'clock and I'll take three and we'll work our way toward twelve.”
“The others have been signalled so whenever you are ready Xol.”
“On my mark, we go.”
A few seconds elapse as the pair go over their strategy in their head. The droids shuffle in the debris, inching their way closer and closer.
“Now!” Xol yells, firing plasma caster shots off into the piles of junk and drawing his two lightsabers. As the Yautja speeds off in the direction of his first target, Dex reels around, unslinging his blaster rifle from his back and opens fire.
Dex's suppressive shots are enough to flush the droids out of hiding. Four Buzz droids, seven old Trade Federation Super battle droids and three of the old style droid commandos. Apart from the Buzz droids who are skittering towards Dex, the rest are all armed with fairly new Imperial issue blasters. As they rain a barrage of fire down upon Xol and Dex they show little concern for any bystanders and even kill a couple of frightened patrons who are caught in the crossfire.
Dex rolls to cover, taking shelter behind a large engine unit, the bolts of his attackers pinging against its hard metal exterior as he rolls. The ominous ticking of the buzz droids growing closer makes the experienced clone commando retract his wrist knife.
Xol dodges and darts between blaster bolts, deflecting what he can with his lightsabers and propelling them back to their corresponding gunmen. This quickly dispatches three of the seven Super battle droids, showering the metallic catwalks of the market near them with droid parts, black lubricant and sparking electronic pieces. The resulting combination of elements starts a few small fires in the vicinity of the ruined droids. Xol uses the oily black smoke of the fires to obscure his path from the battle droids but the commando models seem unphased and continue firing, striking him in the legs, where his armour is much more sparse. The searing hot wounds send the Yautja to the ground, rolling into cluttered piles of scrap and merchandise before smashing against one of the stalls.
Dex can see his friend in danger and comes out from behind his cover, firing round after round at the encroaching battle droids near his friend. His lack of attention however, allows the Buzz droids the opportunity to leap onto his torso, shoulders and head. He flails to get the powerful saw wielding automatons off of his armour, even resorting to firing his blaster back toward himself, blowing the one nearest his helmet into two pieces. The ones at his shoulder and chest bare down with their saws, the rotation making a squeal as the razor sharp edges of the weapons cut into his armour. A second later, the saws become rusty red with blood as they penetrate just passed Dex's protection. Screaming, he punches one with his knife in the eye sensor, destroying it instantly whilst grabbing the second and throwing it to the ground. As it rebounds and attempts to make another leap attack, he stomps down on it with his boot crushing it. It sparks and twitches under the angry clone's foot before finally dying. Seeing his friend still in danger, Dex runs toward the battle droids, firing as he goes, sending one more Super battle droid to the ground in a smouldering heap.
Xol can see his friend approaching fast but he can also see one of the commando droids taking aim, most assuredly having a fatal shot on Dex. Enraged Xol stretches out his hand and unleashes a hellish lightning attack that cuts through the droid before melting its metal exterior. Dex dives for the Yautja's position and fires another shot into the nearest droid, killing it. As the body of the automaton falls with a loud crash, the remaining droids close on the injured pair, their blasters at the ready and whining with energy. Xol and Dex know that it will be nigh impossible for them to make a move at this point without being killed and although their bodies bristle with anticipation, their minds are desperately scrambling for a way out of the situation they are in.
From the distance a roaring sound approaches, as it grows closer the pair can tell that it is swoop speederbikes on full throttle. As the rumble comes so close that the ground vibrates around them, blaster fire erupts from out of sight, each bolt skillfully striking the droids and frying them with electricity. Ionic weapons electrocute the machines, disrupting their power and making them fall lifeless like marionettes with cut strings.
“Uteeni!” shouts a voice from the distance.
Xol and Dex recognize the voice and immediately struggle to get up. As they help each other to their feet, they can see standing over the decimated droids are a few Jawas draped in their traditional brown robes with bandoliers of tools across their chests. The leader waving his weapon over his head in victory is Typ. When the Yautja and his clone comrade approach the diminutive Jawa, some of the other Jawas raise their weapons but Typ waves them off, instructing them to lower their weapons. Excitedly, Typ hugs Xols leg which causes the large alien to wince as the Jawa has unknowingly inflamed his blaster injury. Realizing he has pained the Yautja, the small creature apologetically pats Xol's shoulder and chatters at another Jawa to bring a medical kit.
Patrons of the market gather round unsure of whether or not they are safe, whilst more opportunistic Ugnaughts squabble with the scavenging Jawas over the droid bodies littering the street. A short time later, Qiin, Boomah and Wompit arrive, dismayed at the scene of carnage around them.
“Typ Typ!” Wompit shouts, recognizing his long lost friend.
The Savrip without asking grabs the Jawa and proceeds to nuzzle him. Appreciative but smothered, Typ gently pats Wompit's head before asking to be let down by pointing to the ground.
As the crew kneel to Dex and Xol's level on the ground, they take over the bandaging duties from the eager if not scrappy Jawas and begin to inquire about the attack.
“We expected common street thugs not droids,” Qiin exclaims. “How is it such a force was sent to attack you both.”
“This was a well laid trap my apprentice,” Xol replies, gritting his teeth as the bandages are applied to his wounds. “Someone had the foreknowledge that we were coming here and set up a scenario that should have killed us all. Thankfully they lacked the foresight to anticipate our splitting into two groups upon arrival or the random chaotic arrival of our friend Typ.”
“Who do you think is behind it Master?”
“With a Moff's fortune in credits up for offer in exchange for my head, my list of enemies cannot be measured by datapad anymore.”
The conversation halts as a group of soldiers marches down the street toward them. They move in an orderly file, all wearing the same white dress uniform with a black star emblazened on the right side of their torso. At the lead is a well dressed man in similar uniform but with the addition of a cape and cane. The leader leaves behind the soldiers at attention, accompanied only by a black 3-PO droid as he walks over to the group.
“Pardon the intrusion, I am Aydalon Borek security liaison of the Dark Star syndicate. We responded as quickly as we could to this situation which has escalated far beyond what we expected. We initially thought you might have been the cause of the disturbance but upon review of our video footage, we saw who you are and immediately understood why someone would want to do you harm. However, your identity does not concern us as we are no friends to the Galactic Empire. The facilitator of this station, Irondo Persk would very much like to meet you.”
“You'll understand if I don't fully trust your intentions, Mr. Borek.” Xol replies looking towards Dex for any insight.
“Oh good you speak Basic,” Borek replies. “We weren't sure if you did given we have never seen a species such as yours before on our station. To your point about suspicion, I wholeheartedly understand. If it would ease your mind, this offer to meet is extended to you and all of your crew. Weapons are allowed of course.”
“I will accept your invitation Mr. Borek. Your complex security system may shed some light on who has set this trap for us. Also, seeing as this incident has disrupted our acquisition of supplies, would it still be possible to acquire the items through you directly.”
“Of course Master Sol?...I do hope I am pronouncing your name properly. Just give your list to my protocol associate HX-PO and he'll make the necessary arrangements. Mr. Persk will prefer to handle the credit transaction. Droids can never be trusted with money.”
Believing the conversation has ended, Borek turns on his heel with his cane under his arm and claps twice toward the assembly of soldiers. The ranks split into two columns and allow Xol and his crew walk between them. With Xol's legs still badly hurt, the pace is slow but Borek waits for them every step of the way. The crew follow the security detail through the station into the central hub at which point the soldiers break away and stand guard.
With the swipe of an access ident-card, Borek opens a heavily sealed doorway that accesses an immense lift.
“This is the main service lift for the central space station Master Sol,” Borek explains. “It can transport a security team of one hundred individuals or two of our armoured walkers to Mr. Persk's penthouse suite in case of an emergency.”
“That's a little overkill don't ya think there Bork?” Dex snipes.
“It's pronounced Borek sir and yes, it does seem like an extreme level of response but you see Mr. Persk has many powerful enemies. Something I am sure you can understand given your current status with the Empire.”
“My mistake Mr. Borek.” Dex replies, holding back a laugh.
As the lift comes to a halt at the penthouse level. Borek shows the crew out before re-entering the elevator car and closing it's door. The penthouse level is wondrous, a board room on one side and a palatial living space complete with churning spa and pool on the other. Seated alone at the far end of a custom Sabacc table is a handsome young Twi'lek male dressed in well made clothes, his braintails wrapped in black warming scarves.
“Gentlemen, ladies, and Jawas.” the man says calmly gesturing with an subservient bow. “Do come in. It is very rare I receive such esteemed guests so far out here in the Outer Rim. I am Irondo Persk, CEO of Dark Star syndicate, and I must express my sincerest apologies regarding the ordeal you've undergone on my beloved station. Now, as I've already stated, do come in and partake in a friendly game of Sabacc with me, I do so long for a game that isn't so one sided.”
Obliging, Xol and Dex sit at the table while Qiin and Boomah pour drinks from a decanter located next to the gaming table. Wompit wanders toward the pool and splashes the gentle crystal clear water with his great paw. Typ and the rest of the Jawas munch on a tray of fruit set out next to the decanters.
Irondo shuffles the cards and deals a hand to each of the men sat at the table. As each player mulls over their first plays, the Twi'lek strikes up conversation.
“Gentlemen, life is like Sabacc in many ways. Take your situation today, you played the hand you were dealt and surprisingly your opponents had a trick card up their sleeve, just as suddenly though you too had made a bold play. Someone out there has gone all in against you and as a result has busted. Or have they?”
“How do you mean Mr. Persk?” Xol curiously asks.
“Well, Xol. Sometimes your opponent shows their hand and then other times they play a few cards to feel you out before cutting you down on the final play using subterfuge and guile all the while. Sometimes they just use incapacitating drugs in the food and drink.”
Surmising the message being conveyed by the sly Twi'lek, Xol and Dex move to stand and reach for their weapons. Restraints erupt from the arms and back of their chairs and lock them into place. The heavy gauge metal is too strong for either of them to move free. Glancing over his shoulder, Xol can see the Jawas fall unconscious along with Boomah. Qiin manages to keep her footing and draws her lightsaber. Wompit, unsure of what's happening steps away from the pool and proceeds toward the table.
From the back of the room shrouded by a large, decorative statue of a female Twi'lek; a Mandalorian warrior emerges and walks behind Persk, his custom blaster rifle already drawn. Wookiee pelts dangle from his left shoulder and a half cloak drapes over his right. Spotting Wompit, the newly arrived warrior fires a dart at the Savrip, staggering the humongous creature until he falls to the floor unconscious.
In response to the assault of her friends and her master, Qiin ignites her lightsaber and charges. The Mandalorian fires a shot so fast that the inexperienced Nautolan could not parry it and is struck in the forehead. Only a trickle of blood comes from the intricate wound just below her scalp. Her eyes empty of life and she collapses to the ground, her lightsaber retracting as she falls.
“I told you Persk to use Dioxis on the Nautolan, didn't I.” The Mandalorian coldly comments. “If I hadn't been here, she'd have done you in and they'd have escaped. Then Jabba would have both your brain tails to swat away the flies from his throne.”
“They're lured and restrained,” Persk snidely replies. “What more do you want Fett?”
Xol's gaze hangs with Qiin's lifeless body. He can feel an anger rise inside of him, the same that once liberated the young Nautolan from her Imperial slave master. He focuses all of his rage on Dex's restraints. The metal of the bindings frays and splits, wheezing and whining with every second. Xol growling continuously, phases his body out of the chair bypassing all of the restraints with ease.
“I remember you murderer,” Xol snarls. “You were at Jabba's palace. I will destroy you for what you've done Mandalorian. There will not be a piece left visible to the human eye after I'm done with you.”
The armoured assassin paying Xol's threat no mind, throws a thermal detonator at the Yautja. Xol flings the explosive across the room, exploding it at the far end of the room. As the concussive force of the explosion washes over him, he can feel a series of stings in his neck. Xol grips his throat and feels three darts shot into it. As he angrily rips them from his carotid, his vision dims and becomes fuzzy. His legs give under his weight and he falls to the floor near Qiin. Her silent face the last thing he sees before his vision blackens and he falls unconscious.
TO BE CONTINUED...
