FINALE
The Sungrass
Face stared at the datapad in front of him, its blank screen taunting him. It was the first time that he, as commander of Wraith Squadron, had been put in this position; a position that he knew his predecessor had been put in countless times.
How do you tell someone that their son is dead?
He hadn’t even seen Tezalt die; Runt had told them about it after he had met up with them following the Mandalorian’s departure. He wasn’t sure if he should blame himself for not being more strict with Tezalt or for bringing him along in the first place; with Tezalt for letting his arrogance get to him a second time; or with the Trandoshan that had actually dealt the killing blow. Or perhaps there was no one to blame at all besides the sheer cruelness of fate.
He knew that anything he wrote would sound cliché, empty, anything but heartfelt. But he knew he had to write something. Tezalt’s family—if he had any—deserved to know what had happened to him.
A knock sounded at his door and Face, grateful for an excuse to delay the inevitable, said, “Come in.”
The door opened and in walked Zaedra. For the first time since he had met her, the Rattataki woman did not look cold or acidic; instead, she looked humbled and perhaps even mournful. It was an attitude change that he had not seen coming, although he had already been surprised to learn that Zaedra had not made any attempt to double-cross Piggy and his team.
Stopping in front of his desk, Zaedra stood in a straight and formal manner and uttered seven words that Face was not expecting to come from her: “I would like to join Wraith Squadron.”
Face blinked at her in bemusement, taken aback by both her request as well as the fact that she had already pierced through the Hawk-bat facade. Deciding to feign ignorance one last time, he said, “Who’s Wraith Squadron?”
“Idra told me who you really were. The Wroonian woman,” Zaedra added as if Face wouldn’t know who she was referring to. “She told me that she didn’t want to lie to me anymore and thought she could trust me.”
“I’m not sure she and I are on the same page yet,” Face said wryly. “Why do you want to join?”
“Because I think you’re fighting for a good cause and I can help you in that fight. I have many connections to the underworld, to people like Neyrr and Evazan. I can help you track down more of them.”
“What about Imperials? We tend to go after those guys too, even more often than crime lords.”
“Some of the people I’ve worked for have dealt with Imperials,” Zaedra said. “I can help you there as well.”
Face leaned back in his seat, eying the Rattataki carefully as he stroked his beard. “You’re not the same woman I met back on Trigalis. What happened to her?”
Zaedra hesitated, opened her mouth as if to refute his statement, then closed it as she gave it a second thought. “I heard what happened to one of your own,” she then said, her voice soft and quiet. “I saw how it affected you and the others when you found out. All my life I’ve been an assassin, killing whoever I was paid to kill, never thinking twice about the life I would be denying them. Some of them deserved it, sure, but others… others were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. They had a whole life ahead of them and I just took it from them in a blink of an eye, denying them a future… just like Tezalt was denied his.
“I saw the impact death has on people, how it hurts more than just the person that died, and I decided I didn’t want any part in it anymore.”
Face raised an eyebrow. “You’ll have to kill people as a Wraith, too.”
“I know.”
“You might even get killed in the process.”
“I know.”
“And you still want to join?”
“The way I see it, there’s a difference between killing for profit and killing for justice. I’ve done plenty of the former and I’ve had enough of it. I’m ready to start doing the latter.”
“And how do I know you won’t go back to killing for profit once you get bored of the ‘killing for justice’ thing?”
Zaedra did not respond immediately to this, no doubt having not been prepared for the question. That was good, Face thought. It meant he could still be one step ahead of her if he wanted to.
When Zaedra still did not speak, Face said, “How about this: we’ll bring you with us to Coruscant and you can start training there. If you meet the bare minimum requirements, and you haven’t changed your mind yet, then you can become a Wraith.”
“And if I don’t?” she asked.
“Well, if you exceed expectations and you haven’t changed your mind, then you can join Rogue Squadron, Aggressor Wing, or literally anyone else because they’re better than us in every way. Or you can still join us for the hell of it or because you have a death wish. And if you do change your mind by that point, then you can kark off to Hutt Space or wherever it is evil assassins hang out.”
“You don’t think I’ll fail the tests?”
“Not at all. You strike me as someone who does everything to the best of her ability. The real test you’ll have to pass is one that isn’t on anyone’s list but mine.”
“And what test is that?”
Face smirked. “You won’t know that unless you fail it. If you pass, then it won’t matter anymore.”
Zaedra huffed in frustration. “You are a very strange man. All of you are strange.”
“Good. If you’ve come to that realization, then you’re already on the right track.” Face nodded to the door. “If that will be are, you are dismissed. I have something important to attend to.”
Without a word, Zaedra turned sharply on her heel and walked out of the office, leaving Face alone once more and back to his dilemma. As he started to type out the letter he didn’t want to write, he could only cling onto the futile hope that he would never have to write this letter again.
Nevarro
Greef Karga whistled as he counted out Din Djarin’s payment in front of him. “You scored a big one today, Mando. Over twelve systems’ worth of currency for this one!”
The Mandalorian said nothing, waiting for the other man to finish paying out. Once Greef was done, Din collected his winning, put them safely away, and then leaned back in his seat to look at Karga. “What’s the next one?”
Greef laughed. “Come on, Mando. Don’t you ever rest?”
“This one was nothing. Nor were the ones before it. I’ve barely gotten a day’s worth of work yet.”
“Then take the rest of the time off! You deserve it.” Greef gestured widely to the rest of the common house. “Get a drink, mingle with your fellow hunters—”
“I don’t mingle.”
Greef sighed. “No, I suppose you don’t. Look, I’ve only got so many pucks—”
“Let’s see them.”
Greef let out a defeated huff and slapped down four holopucks onto the table, displaying their contents. “Here. A few low-lives who still haven’t paid their debt to me. One of them is a Mythrol accountant who ran off with some of my money. I wish I could offer you something more challenging, but—”
“I’ll take them,” Din said, snatching up the four pucks. “They should keep me busy for a couple of weeks, maybe three.”
“I’m sure you’ll take care of them in less than that,” Greef said. “Save travels to you, Mando.”
Din Djarin did not return the farewell. He never did; he would see Greef Karga again after this job and after the next one. And if not Karga, then some other Guild agent. It was the cycle that had become his life and he did not see anything breaking that cycle anytime soon.
This was the Way, after all. And nothing would change that.
Ring of Kafrene
The room had been emptied of Hawk-bats and Mandalorians alike, leaving behind nothing but the bodies of stormtroopers, scientists, and one Trandoshan. The body of Doctor Evazan had been taken away by the Mandalorian to present to his clients, whomever they may be. Perhaps the body would be authentic enough to fool them, but Evazan would not be around to find out when or if the Mandalorian returned.
Stepping out of the cell he had been hiding in, the real Cornelius Evazan stepped out and peeled off the pluripleq that had allowed him to disguise himself as a Rodian. As he pulled off the gloves that had given him long, suction cupped fingers to complete the disguise, Evazan walked over to a communications panel that had been mercifully left undamaged from the firefight and keyed in a code to a secret comm frequency, hailing the Star Destroyer that guarded the Kafrene asteroid belt.
“Doctor to Impervious. The operation has been aborted. Repeat, the operation has been aborted.”
“I figured something was about to go down,” replied the Imperial officer aboard the Star Destroyer. “It would appear your contact had been correct.”
“Indeed.” Evazan made a mental note about paying Ruudka extra the next time he approached her for another name to use. She had warned him of the Mandalorian bounty hunter that was on the hunt for him; rather than shut down operations on Kafrene immediately, he had instead decided to toy with the idea of using the Mandalorian as a test subject. Thus, he had disguised himself as a Rodian prisoner while one of his assistants was disguised as Evazan himself. Everyone had played their parts remarkably, even if it had cost them all their lives (besides his, of course). Granted, he wasn’t sure how the Mandalorian had been able to find him in the first place and he entertained the idea that perhaps Ruudka had given away one of his aliases. Still, that would be business he would have to settle another time. Right now, he needed to clean up shop here.
“Send a shuttle down to pick me up,” Evazan then said to his Imperial contact. “I will explain what happened later. Also, let the Mandalorian and his pirate friends go; it would be beneficial if we maintained the illusion that I am dead.”
“True,” the Imperial officer said. “It has worked for you before, hasn’t it?”
“More times than I can count,” Evazan chuckled. “Besides, this gives us a decent enough excuse for the Moff when he asks why the operations has been delayed slightly.”
“You’re not going to tell him about your results here?”
“Why should I? What the Moff doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“If you say so. It’s not my neck that’s on the line. I’ll send a shuttle down to you shortly.”
“Many thanks, captain.” Ending the call, Evazan turned around to survey the room one last time. Satisfied with the results, he headed for the door and left it all behind.
No comments:
Post a Comment