Tales From the New Republic

by Peter Schweighofer

  garrison would stand between the hunter and his prey.

  Fett didn't like the Hutt, but he paid well and on time. That was more

  than he could say for most. Besides, one day Jabba would get what was coming

  to him. After all, justice was a patient hunter.

  Fett knew the value of that particular virtue very well, so he continued

  his careful ascent through the garrison's main tower. There was no need to

  rush. The end would come soon enough. And no matter how novel the hunt had

  been, the conclusion was always the same.

  With a high-pitched giggle. General Gaege Xarran, executive officer of

  the Imperial Garrison Base on Vryssa, moved down the stairwell. He had

  bolstered his blaster in favor of a larger carbine. A spot-luma was mounted on

  top of the weapon, and a stubby microgrenade launcher barrel hung underneath.

  "Come out, come out wherever you are..."

  Fett emerged from the stairwell on Level 5. His tracker unit informed him

  that Rivo was less than fifty meters away, in the barracks adjoining the

  base's recreation facilities. The hunter moved down the shadowed corridor,

  stopping at the last door. Fett imagined the slicer was hiding under the bed,

  probably clutching his holdout blaster and promising that if he survived this

  situation he'd never do anything bad again.

  Fett slapped a small explosive charge to the entrance and stepped back.

  He activated the detonator and watched as the door evaporated into a fine

  mist. The hunter paused for a moment, half expecting Rivo to fire a few

  desperate shots out the doorway.

  Holding his rifle at the ready, Fett carefully made his approach. When

  his motion sensor alarm activated, the hunter froze and took aim, figuring

  Rivo was making a run through the door.

  Fett was so intent on the situation, it took him a split second longer

  than usual to realize that the motion alarm had not come from in front of him.

  He whirled around, though even as he did, he knew it was too late. He braced

  for the impact.

  The heavy blaster bolt took the hunter in his left side with such force

  that it knocked him off his feet. He landed hard-hard enough to knock the wind

  out of any ordinary man. But Fett was no ordinary man.

  He was firing his rifle from the moment he recovered from the impact. The

  furious volley sent his attacker scurrying back around the hallway for cover.

  Daggers of pain began jabbing at his side, but the wound was not serious and

  would have to be ignored for the moment. Fett had more important things to

  worry about.

  His attacker suddenly swung back around and began shooting. As Fett

  returned fire, he recognized Gaege Xarran's features. The exchange exacted a

  toll on both men... Xarran took a bolt in the left leg, sending him stumbling

  back behind cover; Fett was grazed in the right arm and his feeling in the

  limb abruptly tingled into numbness. The rifle tumbled from Fett's grasp and

  he had to make a choice. Quickly.

  The hunter threw himself into the room just as a blaster bolt singed the

  floor where he had been microseconds before. Fett rolled into the large office

  and came up with his remaining wrist laser ready to go; however, his tracker

  unit told him that Rivo must be in the refresher. That door was closed, so

  Fett kept most of his attention focused on the room's entrance. He was

  suddenly sorry he had vaporized the front door.

  Fett crawled over to the wall, pushing his back against it. His right arm

  still dangled uselessly at his side. Luckily his left arm was uninjured,

  allowing him to keep the wrist laser aimed at the doorway.

  The bounty hunter didn't have time to admonish himself for carelessness.

  Time was too precious now. Rapid yet rational decisions would mean the

  difference between life and death, success and failure. He could feel his

  heart surging in his chest. The outcome was in doubt for the first time. Oddly

  enough, he rather enjoyed it.

  Fett began with a quick appraisal of his situation. Rivo would have to be

  mostly ignored at the moment. Even if he did come out shooting, the man was

  not combat trained. Gaege Xarran was trained, however... Fett had learned the

  General had once served as a member of the Imperial Royal Guard. And while the

  General might have been past his prime, he was still very well-armed.

  On the other hand, Fett's armor had lost many of its secondary systems.

  While the basic suit was functioning, his sensor arrays were off-line and he

  could not direct any power to most of the weapons. The communication units

  were undamaged, but relatively useless at the moment. The only intact item

  that could prove helpful was his jet pack.

  Things were not looking good....

  Without his sensors, he had no way of knowing if or when the General

  would come around the door frame firing. Even worse, Fett could not defend

  himself, other than in hand-to-hand combat. And at the moment he was short one

  hand.

  Fett reached into one of his pouches and withdrew his final thermal

  detonator. He would not allow himself to be captured. He would take his

  enemies with him.

  Then he saw it....

  Xarran's blaster had been equipped with a spot-luma. In his frenzied

  state, the General must not have realized that it also gave away his otherwise

  stealthy approach.

  By watching the halo of light increase in intensity, Fett could estimate

  exactly how far away Xarran was at the moment. Fett quickly performed another

  analysis of the room and formulated a new plan. The bounty hunter barely

  resisted the urge to grin as he quickly set the delay on the thermal

  detonator.

  He glanced up once more at the ever-brightening light outside the door

  and lowered his left hand, gently rolling the silver sphere toward the

  doorway.

  A moment later, General Gaege Xarran whirled around the corner expertly

  scanning the room with his blaster. "It's over!" he screamed triumphantly,

  just as something clicked against his boot.

  Xarran looked down at the thermal detonator in horror.

  "Yes," Fett said. "It is...." And a microsecond-long burst from his jet

  pack sent the hunter streaking across the room.

  Before Xarran could even think about reacting, Fett was at the far end of

  the office and safely hidden behind a large desk.

  The explosion that followed rocked the entire floor.

  Fett's chosen cover was of typical Imperial design- - big, bulky, and

  quite resilient. Just as he had hoped, the durasteel monstrosity absorbed most

  of the impact while his armor deflected any burning debris.

  He brushed himself off and approached the refresher door. Rearing back,

  he kicked it open and prepared to beat Rivo into unconsciousness one-handed if

  need be. As it turned out he didn't have to....

  Where Rivo should have been Fett saw only a small holopad. There was a

  possibility the device was rigged, but the hunter didn't think that was the

  case. He swiveled the viewscreen forward and was greeted by the smiling

  holographic visage of Rivo Xarran.

  "Hello, Fett. I'd ask you how you're doing, but the answer is sort of

  obvious. An encounter with
my brother, perhaps?" Rivo paused. "Well, are you

  going to say something or just stand there?"

  Fett was a bit surprised with the live feed... he had mistakenly assumed

  it was a recorded message: "What do you want?"

  "Oh, yes. I forgot. You are a man of few words, aren't you? Well, as I'm

  sure you've figured out by now, I discovered your wonderful little tracker. I

  bet you'd love to know how. Sorry, I can't give away all my secrets.... I must

  say I am impressed. I never thought you'd actually foil an entire Imperial

  garrison," Rivo said with a sneer, "even if it was commanded by my idiot

  brother. Of course, there's no sense in taking any chances, either. Which is

  why I safely removed myself from your reach."

  "For the moment," Fett said, studying Rivo's image. "You are not quite

  the sniveling coward you appear to be."

  "No, I'm not. But neither am I a truly evil individual. My only weapons

  are my computer and my mouth. Unfortunately, they are both boon and bane at

  times." He waved a hand. "But enough about me. Let's get down to business. I

  cannot get back to my normal life with you chasing me around the galaxy, and I

  know you will not rest until you drag me or my corpse before the great Bloated

  One. Correct?"

  Fett didn't reply.

  "So, I propose a compromise... and to show my good faith, I'll even let

  you in on a little secret. My brother has set the garrison base's self-

  destruct system. Relax, you have ten minutes before it blows; however, I'll

  make this quick. You can tell Jabba that I died in the explosion, collect your

  fee, and go about your business. I will assume a false identity, go

  underground, and never, ever reveal what has transpired within this building

  so long as I live. We both win." Rivo's confident gaze faltered somewhat.

  "What do you say, bounty hunter? Is it a deal?"

  After a moment, the bounty hunter nodded. "Very well. But one day I will

  find you, Rivo. And on that day, I will finish this job."

  Rivo grinned. "Ah, yes. It may take longer than usual, but Boba Fett

  always wins. Very good, then. Until that day..." His image flickered away into

  darkness.

  The hunter checked his chronometer. At least that was still working. He

  had better get moving. Fett had a feeling the little Sithspawn might have

  "accidentally" overestimated the countdown to detonation. As he headed for the

  roof, Fett sent out a beckon call to Slave I....

  The Storyteller stopped, enjoying the eager stares of the children.

  "How does it end?" asked the little girl breathlessly.

  Her question was taken up by the other kids as they demanded a resolution

  to the tale.

  The Storyteller smiled appreciatively and continued. "Well, after many,

  many years Boba Fett managed to track Rivo down to a backwater planet in the

  Outer Rim Territories, to the very cantina where the slicer was hiding-was He

  paused for effect and then said softly, his-comAnd then the greatest bounty

  hunter of all time finally completed his task. You see, Boba Fett never loses.

  " He glanced at his chronometer. "Now, it's way past your bedtimes. Get off to

  sleep, all of you. And no bad dreams or no more stories before bedtime."

  Satisfied, the children filed up the stairs to their rooms, still

  chattering about the story. All except for the little girl. She paused at the

  top of the steps with a quizzical look on her face. "Is Boba Fett a good guy

  or a bad guy?"

  He considered that for a moment. "That's a question only you can answer,"

  he said finally.

  The girl shrugged her shoulders and bounded up the stairs, leaving the

  Storyteller alone with his thoughts.

  Well, not quite alone.

  "How long have you been sitting there?" the Storyteller asked.

  "You tell me," came the flat, filtered response.

  The Storyteller turned toward the shadowed booth from which a gray and

  green-garbed figure emerged. Boba Fett stood before the Storyteller, arms

  folded across his armored chest.

  "After all these years you actually managed to find me." Smiling, the

  Storyteller stood up. "At least our little tale will be authentic now."

  The bounty hunter slowly reached into one of his pouches and the

  Storyteller took a deep breath. Fett withdrew something silver and shiny and

  the Storyteller suddenly had visions of thermal detonators.

  Fett casually tossed the object toward the man, who caught it out of

  reflex.

  The Storyteller braced himself for the end, but when it didn't come he

  looked at the object in his palm. It was a credit chit.

  Fett was already walking toward the exit.

  The Storyteller held it up, confused. "What is this?"

  The bounty hunter didn't turn around. "Many things, Rivo. An end, a new

  beginning... and maybe even an answer to a little girl's question." Fett

  glanced back once, then disappeared through the doors.

  The Storyteller (he no longer really thought of himself as Rivo) examined

  the chit. It contained fifty thousand credits. The exact bounty put on his

  head by Jabba. Suddenly, everything became clear. He grinned and ran outside.

  Boba Fett was gone... vanished into the wastes of Ladarra.

  The Storyteller stood there in silence. And realized something was wrong.

  For a brief moment, he couldn't quite figure it out-then it suddenly hit him.

  There was no squeaking.

  The Storyteller looked down... and found himself staring at the

  disintegrated remains of the bar's repli wood sign. He threw back his head and

  began laughing.

  ***

  Day of The Sepulchral Night

  by Jean Rabe

  Wonder what we'll find?" Solum'ke mused for what I guessed was the half-

  dozenth time since we set out.

  "Maybe nothing," I replied-again. "It's just a legend, after all. Don't

  get your hopes up."

  "Well, thiergu-Rea Duhnes'rd, love of my life, I think there's something

  to it," she persisted. She formed her bulbous, mottled lips into a delightful

  pout. "The Qwohog thinks so, too. Otherwise, he wouldn't have talked us into

  renting this sail barge."

  Talked you, I mentally corrected her. Talked you into spending the last

  of my credits during the Day of the Sepulchral Night.

  If we'd stayed in the city-and on dry ground-we could have booked passage

  on that Corellian corvette occupying most of the port and got back into

  Imperial lanes. There we could pick up a few leads on lucrative contracts. I'd

  spent so many credits on our brief vacation on this backwater world that I

  needed to turn a good bounty to replenish my normally bulging account.

  We'd come to Zeios II several days ago for a little relaxation. The place

  is known for its tourist spots- - elaborate spas and candnas that cater to all

  manner of beings and all manner of tastes and appetites. For the past several

  days I'd been lavishly doling out my credits on the exhibitions and in the

  casinos, and-of course-on the more-than-suitable accommodations in which I had

  been romancing the lovely Solum'ke. Like me, she's a Weequay, a tough-looking

  humanoid with alluring coarse, gnarled skin. Hers is an enchanting desert tan,

  shaded darker in just the r
ight places and relatively smooth across her

  beautiful bald head. Mine is a dark gray, nearly the color of the magnificent

  wiry topknot that extends to the center of my back. We make an attractive

  couple.

  We don't have to use words between us-not spoken ones, anyway. Ours is

  the ability to excrete pheromones that allow us to communicate our moods and

  desires. Right now my desire was to be elsewhere, but I kept my pheromones in

  check so as not to give it away and disappoint her.

  "Look at the moons," she breathed huskily. Her pheromones said she was in

  a very romantic mood. "They're beautiful."

  We don't have to use words. But I like the sound of her voice, and she

  knows it. I followed her gaze. Zeios II has four moons, and I had read

  somewhere that moonlight is an essential ingredient to an amorous environment.

  That's one of the reasons I suggested we come to this planet.

  Unfortunately, it was also because of those four moons that we were now

  on an understaffed sail barge skimming a meter above the Great Zeiosi Sea and

  leaving land uncomfortably far behind.

  K'zk, the Qwohog piloting the rented barge, had been sitting at a nearby

  table in the restaurant we had selected for dinner last night. He had looked

  small and out of place among his humanlike Zeiosian companions- - whom he was