Tales from the New Republic (27 page)

Squeak
.

Squeak
.

Squeak
.

Most beings would have found the intermittent sound annoying. Some might have even gone so far as to blast the noisy repliwood sign into toothpicks. But the main street of the New Hope Settlement was currently devoid of life. There were only a few dust balls moving in accordance to the fickle will of the wind. The row of stores that flanked the main street stood silently, sealed up and forgotten. The rust-colored sands of Ladarra were already returning to reclaim the land it had lost years ago…

And so the sign continued to squeak, hanging as it was by a single frayed duracable. The lettering was a bit faded, but the words were still legible: “The Ellstree Bar—Cold Lum; Droids Welcome; No Disintegrations, Please…” Like the rest of the shops in downtown New Hope, the bar looked to be long deserted. But as the old saying goes, “appearance and truth have as much in common as Jawas and Hutts.”

The children sat in a semicircle around the man. There were at least a dozen of them, mostly human, but a few other species were represented as well. They were orphans and urchins, the last generation of a failed colony—too poor to book passage off Ladarra and un-willing or unable to face the difficulties of life in the few larger cities on the planet.

The man had no name as far as the children knew. They merely called him the Storyteller. He was dressed as they were, in ragged clothing scrounged from a dozen wardrobes and cobbled together into a free-form garment. The Storyteller was an older human, with a heavily lined face and a shock of white hair. He had the look of a man who had seen too much and his eyes were unable to stay focused on any one location for longer than a minute—as if they were constantly searching for any possible threat.

“You want
another
story?” he asked in a weary voice.

The children nodded in unison. They rarely spoke, and he wasn’t sure all of them even knew how.

“How about the legend of the fearless young Jedi Knight who rescued a beautiful princess?”

A chorus of groans answered that question.

“Well, then. There’s always the tale of the evil Imperial governor who wanted to conquer the innocent little world of—” He saw the looks on their faces and couldn’t help but laugh. “No? My, but this is a tough crowd.” He shook his head in mock irritation. “So what would you like to hear about?”

“Tell us a new one,” one of the children said. She was a pretty little one, though it was hard to tell under all that grime.

“Come now, you’ve heard all of them at least once. Just pick the one you like.”

The girl folded her arms and jutted out her lower lip.

He fought to keep a straight fece. “Okay, okay…” He scratched his chin in dramatic fashion. “A new story. Let me see… ah, yes, I’ve got it!”

Their eyes lit up.

“No, no… that won’t work.”

The children frowned at him.

“Kidding, kidding,” he chuckled for a moment, then quickly grew serious. “I do have one tale that I heard a long time ago. To my knowledge it has never been told again.” He had their full attention. “How many of you have heard of…” His voice lowered to a dangerous whisper.
“Boba Fett
?”

Their eyes grew wide at the mention of the name, and one by one each little hand lifted into the air.

“Well, I happen to know a long-forgotten tale of the greatest bounty hunter who ever lived. Would you like me to share it with you?”

Every head in the room slowly nodded.

The Storyteller had his audience… He smiled briefly, then settled back into the comfortable chair and slowly closed his eyes. He began the story after a moment of dramatic silence. The children listened with rapt attention.

As the shuttle’s exit hatch slowly descended, the sudden hiss of escaping gases nearly caused Rivo to jump right off the platform. As it was, he barely regained enough balance in time to prevent himself from unceremoniously rolling down the ramp.

General Gaege Xarran gave a dramatic sigh to indicate his disgust and extended an arm to steady his brother as he stumbled down the ramp.

Xarran quickly glanced at the sharp line of stormtroopers that served as an honor guard. The squad remained at such rigid attention that he momentarily wondered if the Dark Lord of the Sith had suddenly emerged from the
Lambda
-class shuttle. The Empire’s ivory-armored shock troopers weren’t always the brightest specimens around, but at least they knew enough to keep their mouths shut and follow orders.

Unlike some people
, the General thought as his gaze fell upon Rivo. Xarran suddenly felt his body grow flushed with anger and his lips twitched into an involuntary sneer.

“How could you be so stupid?” he whispered. Not that it really mattered whether the stormtroopers overheard; they had been privy to conversations of much greater importance than the scolding of a sibling.

Rivo might as well have been one of the silent group of guards, for he acted as if his brother had never spoken. His eyes were still darting around wildly, searching for a possible threat in every shadow.

Xarran lightly cuffed his brother with an open hand, striking the back of his head. If there was one thing the General did not like, it was being ignored. “Answer me!”

Rivo’s response was swift—Xarran was doubly shocked as he stared down the stubby barrel of a hold-out blaster. First of all, the General had never imagined his own brother would point a weapon at him, and second Rivo was supposed to have been relieved of his armaments. Someone was destined to die for the oversight, but the General intended to avoid being the unlucky party.

It was his brother’s life, however, that appeared to be in the most immediate danger…

The stormtroopers remained motionless, but somewhere in the span of an eye-blink nine blaster rifles had been expertly trained on Rivo.

The young man didn’t seem to notice. His eyes held a blank stare that didn’t quite focus on anything. The General wasn’t even quite sure if Rivo still recognized him.

“It’s only me, brother,” Xarran said softly. “I’m the one trying to keep you alive.” Slowly but steadily the General reached out with a gloved hand. The span was less than half a meter, but it took forever to close the distance between his fingers and the weapon.

When the General took hold of the blaster, Rivo’s nervous energy drained out as if he were a leaking power cell. His entire body slumped down and the weapon spilled like liquid through his fingers until it was collected in Xarran’s waiting hands.

“I’m sorry,” Rivo managed through choked sobs. He wavered unsteadily, lost in his anguish.

Xarran pulled him into a hug, nodding to the guards over Rivo’s shoulder. The gesture was unnecessary. Their blasters were already holstered.

The General cradled the back of his brother’s head, in the same place where moments before Xarran had struck him. That now seemed like an eternity ago—it suddenly became clear to him how time, no matter how brief, could irrevocably affect one’s entire existence. Every moment was a crossroad to infinite possibilities—Rivo’s greatest talent besides drinking and gambling was picking the wrong path to travel. Fortunately the results, as bad as they were, had never ended with outright disaster. This time was different, however, for Rivo’s latest mistake might end up costing his life.

Of course, it went without saying that Xarran would do everything in his power to prevent that occurrence. And as a General in the Imperial Army, that power was considerable.

Xarran gently supported his brother, helping him walk the long landing platform toward the garrison complex. The stormtroopers executed a crisp about-face and fell into line behind them. “You’ll have nothing to fear anymore, brother. I doubt anyone could have tracked you here.”

Rivo gazed up at his brother and for the first time, there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes.

Heartened by the small gesture, Xarran continued. “And in the highly unlikely event that you were followed, one would have to be certifiably insane to even consider attacking an entire Imperial garrison.”

In the distance, well concealed high in the cover afforded by the dense foliage, a silent figure lurked in the shadows.

He watched, though he held no macrobinoculars—for a pair was conveniently built into his battle-scarred helmet.

He listened as easily if he were one of the stormtroopers, his broadband antenna descrambling the signal of their comlinks and effectively turning the silent soldiers into eavesdropping devices.

Once again, nothing escaped his notice.

Just as no one escaped him.

He climbed down from his perch among the trees with surprising grace considering the bulkiness of his battered gray and green armor.

By the time he finished his descent, darkness had begun to fall like a velvet blanket, and the twin moons of Vryssa were steadily rising in the northern sky.

He paused only once to stare at the towering silhouette of the Imperial garrison base. The massive structure remained in shadow for a few moments longer, then its powerful spot-lumas ignited. The harsh light was coldly reflected in the figure’s mask.

General Xarran had unwittingly issued an arrogant challenge.

A challenge Boba Fett was more than ready to accept…

The speeder bike patrol caught him unaware. He had just climbed down from his overlook and was checking his equipment. His motion sensors didn’t go off until they were right on top of him. The bikes were so fast they didn’t register with enough warning time.

As he dove for cover in the thick tangle of bush, Fett saw one of the scout troopers gesture in his general direction. His two partners immediately circled around, moving into standard Imperial flanking position. Their vehicles were newer models, pure scout bikes by the look of them—very fast, but without any armaments or protection.

Fett needed to know how much they knew. He activated his antenna…

“… Saw something through those trees. Hard to tell, though. Could have just been a buldobeast.”

“Keep your positions. I’ll check it out.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Should we contact the other patrol?”

“You want to listen to their jokes about getting spooked by a little buldo?”

“Negative.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, stand by.”

Fett watched as the lead biker approached, giving his vehicle minimal throttle. The repulsorlift craft drifted a few meters above the ground as the scout trooper conducted a grid search of the area.

Ever so slowly, Fett rolled onto his back and snaked his right arm up through the thicket. He took a single deep breath and then his body froze. The hunter was so still it seemed as if he were made of ferrocrete.

The scout biker moved overhead, directly above Fett’s hiding place. The hunter could feel the backwash from the repulsorlift engines pressing against him. The scout was leaning over his vehicle, examining the area closely. The trooper’s head jerked back suddenly as if he had spotted something.

Fett flexed his wrist and the rocket-propelled dart housed in his forearm compartment streaked silently through the air. The hunter’s aim was perfect. The dart jammed into the soft black bodysuit between the scout’s helmet and chestpiece. The poison worked fast, starting with the victim’s vocal cords. The man silently jerked forward and then tumbled from his seat, leaving the speeder bike hovering in place.

Moving quickly, Fett hopped up onto the bike and jammed the comlinks of the other two bikers. He opened up the throttle and veered off toward one of them. Without even a glance at the other, the hunter activated his armor’s grenade launcher.

The trooper was shocked to see Fett streak past on the speeder bike going after his partner. Figuring he had the drop on the hunter, he gunned his bike forward—just as Fett’s grenade finished its arc and fell into his lap.

The bounty hunter felt the shock wave of the blast but didn’t bother to look back. He was too busy concentrating on his final target. This trooper was taking no chances. The scout was hightailing it out of the vicinity in order to escape the jamming and get some help. He already had a sizable lead on the hunter and was rapidly increasing the gap. Fett knew he couldn’t catch up—the trooper was more familiar with the terrain.

Steering the vehicle with one hand, the bounty hunter drew his modified blaster rifle. Scomp-linked to the macrobinoculars in his helmet, the weapon finally locked on target at three hundred meters. The scout trooper didn’t even see the two angry crimson blaster bolts that slammed into his back and took him clean off his vehicle.

Fett slowed his bike to a stop and scanned the area for anyone else. The hunter was not happy—he had expended unnecessary time and energy. And now they would know for sure he was on the planet.

Perhaps that might be to his advantage…

Rivo’s voice cut the silence, though it was but a whisper. “He’s here. Now.”

“Impossible,” Xarran said, barely keeping the disgust from his voice. The General did not like to see his brother cower. Especially in front of his men. “You give this bounty hunter too much credit, brother. Our sensors would have detected his ship’s approach.”

Rivo shook his head. “This bounty hunter is not the simpleminded scum you are used to dealing with. Boba Fett is different. He has never failed. They say he is the best that ever was…”

Commander Tyrix checked his console. “The patrol
should
have reported in by now, sir.”

“This confirms it!” Rivo said.

Xarran would have none of it. “There is no reason to make any connection with your situation and this incident. For all we know—”

“Sir,” Tyrix said. “Another patrol has found the remains of the missing unit…” The Commander listened for a moment, pressing his headset against his ear. He paled considerably. “They’re all dead.”

The General was on his feet. “How?”

“Blaster, a grenade, and some sort of poisoned dart. The troopers’ weapons were fully charged… none of the men even got off a shot.”

Rivo let out a nervous giggle. “I told you… he’s coming for me.”

Xarran ignored him. “Commander, send out two detachments. If this bounty hunter is indeed here, then I want him found and brought before me. Preferably alive… although a body will do just fine.”

“Two detachments, sir?” Tyrix swiveled his chair around to face the General. “For just one man?”

Xarran’s face did not so much as twitch. “I’m sorry, Commander, did you say something?”

“No, sir,” Tyrix said, hurriedly swiveling back to his console to activate the comlink.