Star Wars Adventures 006 - The Warlords of Balmorra

by Ryder Windham

  The man arched one of his manicured eyebrows. “Know what?”

  Tambor said, “I didn’t tell anyone that I contracted Cradossk to kill Groodo and his associates. And I know for a fact that Cradossk would never spill his guts. So how did you find out?”

  “We all have our secrets,” said Count Dooku with a smile.

  “Who are you?” Bossk snarled at the bounty hunter who had come to pick him up at Kuat Passenger Port.

  “My name’s Skorr,” said the hunter, ignoring the armed Kuat Space Patrol security guards who surrounded Bossk in the docking bay. “I’m with the Bounty Hunters Guild. Your father sent me.” Skorr was a humanoid who wore a hooded, brown coat. He had pale yellow skin and a bald head covered with lumps. The upper part of his right ear ended in a sharp point. Bossk wondered if Skorr’s left ear was similarly tapered or if it even existed, but since the left side of Skorr’s head was enveloped by a metallic shell, complete with a mechanical left eye, it was impossible to tell.

  Bossk scowled. He knew the Kuat Space Patrol had contacted his father and he had been expecting Cradossk to come get him. Bossk was embarrassed and outraged to have some… some underling show up instead. Bossk snorted, then said, “Why’d my father send you?”

  “He said he couldn’t make it,” Skorr replied.

  Bossk winced. So that’s how the old fool wants to deal with me, he thought. Like I’m a piece of lost luggage!

  The captain of the Kuat Space Patrol said, “You’re free to go,” but Bossk was already striding away from the guards and heading for Skorr’s starship. Skorr followed at Bossk’s heels.

  Inside Skorr’s ship, Bossk followed Skorr into the cockpit. As they prepared to launch from the space station, Bossk looked at Skorr and said, “What happened to your head?”

  “My beautician pulled a fast one,” Skorr replied sarcastically, as he strapped into his seat. He narrowed his right eye, gazed at Bossk’s head, and said, “What happened to yours?”

  Bossk caught his own reflection in the cockpit’s transparisteel canopy and saw the bandage wrapped around his cranium. He had almost forgotten that he’d been shot in the back of the head—twice!—by some unidentified hunter. Bossk growled, then roared.

  “Hey!” Skorr shouted. “You’re spitting on the controls!”

  Bossk’s left arm lashed out, and he wrapped his claw around Skorr’s neck. Bossk said, “Don’t ever interrupt me when I’m roaring.”

  “Sure,” Skorr gasped.

  Bossk released Skorr’s neck and said, “I hope your ship is fully fueled.”

  “It is,” Skorr said. “We’ll be back on Trandosha in no time.”

  Bossk shook his head. “I’m not going back to Trandosha. I came to Kuat to kill Hurlo Holowan and I’m not leaving ’til I do!”

  “Then you could be here for a long time,” Skorr said. “For one thing, your father wanted me to tell you that the bounty you were working on has been called off. Also, on my way to pick you up, I saw the news, and a report that Hurlo Holowan had been nabbed.”

  “What?” Bossk shouted, outraged.

  Ignoring Bossk, Skorr continued, “The report made it sound like the work of a professional. Someone broke into Holowan’s fortified mansion, captured her, then fled Kuat and vanished into hyperspace.”

  Bossk was so furious that he wanted to smash every object in Skorr’s cockpit, but he held back because Skorr was already guiding his ship out through the hangar’s docking port and into space. Bossk realized he couldn’t solve this problem with his fists. Think. You’ve got to think! And while Skorr guided his ship into space and away from Kuat Passenger Port, Bossk thought and thought until his brain ached. Hurlo Holowan… gone. Senator Rodd… gone. If another hunter got to them, maybe the Hutt—what’s his name?—Groodo? Yeah, Groodo!

  Then, without realizing it, Bossk began to think out loud, and said, “Maybe the Hutt’s gonna be the next target. But he’s not on Esseles, because I already looked there. And if the other hunter goes after the Hutt, and still has Rodd and Holowan, I might have a chance at killing the whole bunch of them!”

  Skorr said, “Killing? What Hutt? What are you talking about?”

  “We’re going after Groodo the Hutt!” Bossk snarled. “Got a problem with that?”

  “Groodo?” Skorr said, the right side of his face betraying surprise.

  “My father didn’t tell you the specifics about the bounty?”

  “No,” Skorr said. “He just ordered me to tell you that the bounty was called off. I had no idea you were hunting Holowan until you mentioned it.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Bossk grumbled. “This hunt isn’t over.”

  “But if the bounty’s been called off—”

  “I said this hunt isn’t over!”

  Skorr was about to accuse Bossk of being irrational, but since he couldn’t imagine any positive outcome, he decided against it. Instead, he said, “Going after any Hutt is bad business. What if Groodo’s brother finds out?”

  “What brother?”

  “Rigorra,” Skorr said. “Warlord of the planet Balmorra. Anyone who messes with Groodo is asking for trouble from Rigorra.”

  As a baby, Bossk had devoured his own brothers and sisters before they’d even hatched, so he found it hard to understand why Rigorra would want to protect Groodo. He wondered, What kind of a creature would want to take care of his sibling? After thinking for a full thirty-seven seconds, Bossk turned to Skorr and said, “If you were a Hutt who was in trouble, and you had a brother, would you hide out at your brother’s place?”

  Skorr said, “Seriously?”

  “Do I sound like I’m joking?” Bossk sputtered. “C’mon, think! Pretend you’re a Hutt! What would you do?”

  Skorr thought for a moment, then asked, “Is my brother the one who got me in trouble?”

  Bossk squinted. “What?”

  “I’m asking if my brother’s the one who got me in trouble, because if he is, I’m not going to his place, that’s for certain.”

  Losing track of the conversation, Bossk asked, “Why do you think your own brother got you in trouble?”

  “No, not a real brother,” Skorr said. “We’re talking about a hypothetical brother on Balmorra, right?”

  “Hypothetical?” Bossk exploded with rage. “Your brother isn’t supposed to be a Hypothetical. He’s supposed to be a Hutt named Rigorra! And if you don’t plot a course for Balmorra right now, I’m going to make your head a whole lot uglier!”

  If it wasn’t for the fact that Bossk was the son of the head of the Bounty Hunters Guild, Skorr would have punched the EJECT button and launched Bossk out of the ship and into space. Instead, Skorr turned to the nav computer and plotted a course for Balmorra. A minute later, they were on their way.

  Balmorra had not changed much since Jango Fett’s last visit. Most of the planet’s surface had been industrialized ages ago, covered by gigantic factories. As Jango piloted Slave I over Balmorra’s capital city, only the uppermost levels of the factories were visible in the dense smog. If there had ever been an attempt to clean up the atmosphere, the attempt had failed long before anyone could remember.

  Jango angled Slave I to an area west of the city’s center. He soon spotted a distinctive conical tower rising through the smog, and recognized it immediately as the top of Rigorra’s castle.

  Eight years earlier, Jango had tracked a wanted spice dealer to Balmorra. The spice dealer had given Jango a good run through the capital, but the hunt ended just outside Rigorra’s castle, where Jango shot the spice dealer dead. Unfortunately, the shooting attracted the attention of Rigorra’s security guards, who then deployed an assassin droid that Rigorra had recently purchased from Hurlo Holowan. The droid, Jango later learned, was called a Razor Eater, and it had almost taken his head off. He’d managed to disable the Razor Eater enough to make it back to Slave I and set the ship’s autopilot for Kamino before he’d passed out.

  It had taken over three months for Jango’s wounds to heal, and the
recovery time was hardly worth the bounty he’d received to eliminate the spice dealer. But thinking back on it, Jango did not regret the event; he embraced it as a learning experience. He’d not only survived his encounter with the deadly droid but had also figured out its weak spots.

  Jango steered Slave I in a wide circle around Rigorra’s castle, using his ship’s sensors to scan the area. After he’d completed the flyby, he cut away from the castle and descended through the smog, cruising low over several blocks of small factories. Soon he arrived at a busy commercial spaceport, where he landed Slave I in an open-roofed docking bay. Although the open roof would leave Slave I exposed, Jango knew it would also allow him to summon the ship by remote control or make a fast getaway, if necessary.

  Still in his cockpit, Jango studied the data that his sensors had gathered. From what he could see, Rigorra’s castle had defenses that would put most military outposts to shame. Any invader who was lucky enough to survive a stroll through the minefields would only be picked off by one of the many turret-mounted multidirectional laser cannons. But after sifting through the data, Jango found what appeared to be a way in. The only problem was that it would require another person, preferably a mercenary soldier or another bounty hunter. Jango almost wished he’d brought Zam along with him. Without her, he would just have to improvise.

  Leaving the cockpit, Jango put on his helmet and went to the prisoner hold. He found both Holowan and Senator Rodd sleeping in their respective cells. He knew the cells were secure but he checked the locking mechanisms anyway. When he was satisfied that his prisoners weren’t going anywhere, Jango set Slave I’s security system and exited the ship.

  To avoid any personal contact with spaceport authorities, Jango paid for the use of the docking bay by feeding some hard credits into a slot at the bay’s automated service station. After the transaction was complete, he left the bay and entered a wide public corridor that ran the length of the spaceport.

  The spaceport was crowded with travelers, aliens as well as humans, and most of them were carrying weapons. This wasn’t unusual, since Balmorra was not the friendliest planet in the galaxy. As Jango passed a carbonator bistro that looked like a spacer hangout, he noticed a red-hooded figure glance up at him from a table, then look away. Although Jango’s armor made him stand out in any assembly, few people paid any attention to him. Jango stayed on guard anyway, using his helmet’s sensors to scan any face that looked at him. Thanks to his helmet’s pineal eye, he didn’t even have to turn his head to see the red-hooded figure leave the bistro and follow him.

  Jango did not quicken his pace as he headed for a doorway that led out of the spaceport. Repulsorlift taxis were lined up outside, but he walked past them, turned his head to make it obvious that he was looking left and right, and crossed the street. On the other side, he walked between two repulsorlift delivery vans that were parked beside a factory that produced durasteel tools. When he was certain that the nearest van was between him and anyone on his tail, he turned right.

  The red-hooded figure exited the spaceport, crossed the street, and stepped cautiously between the two parked repulsorlift vans. At the end of the hooded figure’s left sleeve, a long-fingered white hand extended, holding a highly-polished blaster pistol. The hooded figure edged past the vans and looked to the right, expecting to see the back of the man in the Mandalorian armor walking up the sidewalk. But the man was gone.

  “Freeze, Aurra,” Jango said. He was standing atop the van that was behind the hooded figure. The hooded figure reacted by turning fast and raising a polished blaster, but Jango had already thrown his body over the side of the van. On his way down, the bottom of his boots slammed against his opponent’s blaster-wielding hand, and he heard the weapon clatter against the sidewalk as he landed.

  “Evening, sweetie,” said Aurra Sing as she lifted her chin and threw back the red hood to reveal her pale face. The woman’s left hand now dangled at her side, but in her right, she held a second blaster pistol and had it aimed at Jango’s visor. Jango had both of his blasters aimed at Aurra’s head, and she eyed their barrels with a wide smile that showed off all her teeth.

  Over the years, Jango had encountered many other bounty hunters. On several occasions, he’d even been required to kill them, and he’d done so without remorse because bounty hunting was, after all, a chosen profession, and everyone knew the risks. No one had ever gained his entire trust, and very few—only Zam Wesell and Cradossk—had ever earned his respect. But ever since his first run in with Aurra Sing, he’d felt something for her that was—for Jango—even more powerful than trust or respect: She had his sympathy, something Jango kept in extremely short supply. While others looked at Aurra and saw nothing more than a trigger-happy psychopath, Jango saw her as a broken spirit, the result of a lifetime of bad breaks. And so he felt sympathy for Aurra because she had not chosen bounty hunting as a profession. Bounty hunting had chosen her.

  “Put down your blaster,” Jango said.

  “You first,” Aurra snapped, still smiling.

  Jango slowly returned one blaster to its holster, and then holstered his other blaster, while Aurra did the same with hers. Without taking his eyes off her, he bent down to pick up her fallen blaster by its barrel, then rose and handed the weapon to her.

  “What a gent,” Aurra said with a wink as she slipped the blaster into the leather holster that was strapped to her left thigh.

  Jango said, “Tell me why you’re on Balmorra.”

  “Not here,” Aurra said. “I’m thirsty. Drink?” And before Jango could refuse, she quickly added, “Please?”

  Jango said, “Sure.”

  Several minutes later, Jango Fett and Aurra Sing were in a crowded Balmorran cantina, seated in a corner booth that allowed both of them to keep their backs to the wall. After a service droid delivered their drinks, Jango leaned close to Aurra and said, “What’re you doing on Balmorra?”

  “Working,” Aurra said, then sipped her flameout. “You?”

  Jango had almost forgotten how difficult it was to carry on a conversation with Aurra. Not only was she evasive, but her sentences rarely exceeded two words. As Jango placed a plastic straw into his glass of water, he replied, as if to a child, “I’m working, too, Aurra. That’s what you and I do. We work. But remember what happened the last time we bumped into each other on a remote planet?”

  “I remember,” Aurra said with an excited shudder. “Crossfire!”

  “That’s right,” Jango said. “With us in the middle of it. I’d like to avoid that, Aurra, so I’m going to tell you why I’m here.” Choosing his words carefully, so as not to come right out and say he was stalking Groodo, Jango said, “I’m hunting a felon who came from Esseles.”

  “Esseles?” Aurra said. She pointed one of her long index fingers at the ceiling and said, “Far away.”

  “Yes, it is. Very far.”

  “You’re hunting Rigorra’s brother.”

  Jango was surprised. “So you know about Groodo?”

  “From Esseles,” Aurra said with a knowing smile. “I’m smart.”

  “I never said you weren’t,” Jango said. He worked the plastic straw up under his helmet until it reached his lips and took a sip of his drink. “So tell me. Why are you on Balmorra?”

  “Rigorra,” Aurra said.

  Jango remained calm. He lowered the straw and beverage holder, then asked, “You’re not working for Rigorra, are you?”

  “Wrong!” Aurra shook her head. Then she whispered, “Hunting Rigorra.”

  “What about Groodo?”

  “Not interested. Groodo’s yours.”

  Jango took another sip. “Who’s paying you?”

  Aurra rolled her eyes. “No bounty. It’s personal.”

  “Revenge?”

  “It’s personal,” Aurra repeated.

  Behind his helmet, Jango grimaced. He’d heard a rumor that Aurra had once been a slave to a Hutt named Wallanooga, who’d died under mysterious and violent circumstances. Jango
wondered if there was any connection between Wallanooga and Rigorra, but he had no desire to press Aurra for information that was, as she said, personal. Instead, he stated, “You can’t get into Rigorra’s castle alone.”

  “No kidding,” Aurra said. “Hard target. I need help. Like you.”

  Jango knew it must have been hard for Aurra to acknowledge that she needed help. However, he had already determined that a team of two hunters could more efficiently infiltrate Rigorra’s castle, and Aurra— despite her unstable personality—was probably the best partner he could find on such short notice. Jango said, “To avoid another crossfire, I think we might be able to work together.”

  Ninety minutes after he’d explained his plan and left the cantina with Aurra Sing, Jango Fett snuck past a series of converging low-stun laser wires at the perimeter of Rigorra’s property, then began a long crawl through a field of lush grass and exotic flowers. The field was to the south of Rigorra’s castle, and Jango knew from his sensor scans that it was the only land on Rigorra’s property that wasn’t riddled with mines. The reason there weren’t any mines was because Rigorra had livestock—mostly imported shaaks, large bovine creatures—grazing on the field. Jango assumed the livestock was for the Hutt’s personal consumption.

  Jango’s plan to infiltrate Rigorra’s castle was hardly elaborate, but it depended on crucial timing. After crawling to the protective cover of some tall flowers in the middle of the field, he stopped and used his helmet’s pineal eye sensor to look at an elevated comm tower to the southeast of the field. Then he looked to the base of the castle wall, where a wide door led to Rigorra’s livestock shelter. The door was guarded by nine members of Rigorra’s swoop gang, who sat on their swoops while watching the field and the sky. Finally, Jango’s eyes flicked to the time display that was set within his helmet, and he began counting down the seconds, anticipating the moment that Aurra would make her move.