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Broken Legacy

Chapter 2: Fury

Furious, A’den paced back and forth in the cargo hold of his ship; gauntlets quaking with barely repressed rage, the man unable to find an outlet upon which to vent his ire. As his eyes scanned the heap of crates pushed to the back of the hold to accommodate the recent influx of imperial goods, supplies he would now be unable to deliver due to his new uninvited contract. A subsequent failure of completion that would forever deface his previously immaculate record, his outrage only grew exponentially.

Days had passed since he met the imperial agent on Nar Shadda, and his fury had not lessened by a single iota. He had been so close to finding him! The closest he had ever come in 180 months of scouring the galaxy. All the information he had collected over fifteen years of grueling mercenary work, all the times he had missed him by days… hours, all of that had been rendered null and void by the devious actions of the Empire.

To say that he was enraged was a horrible misuse of galactic basic. His anger went far beyond rage. It was hatred incarnate, all his training and discipline was scarcely sufficient in keeping it all sealed away, the equivalent of slapping a piece of tape over a hull breach. The very thought of the man was nearly enough to whip A’den into a frenzy.

The unspeakable atrocities that man committed were so foul that most mando’a who had once known him now considered him more monstrous than Death Watch, an organization that forever stained the honor of all true mandalorians. Wanted and hated by all, it was a loathsome testament to his skills that he had yet to be caught.

And now, after finally about to receive the information to nail the shab’rudur… to be thwarted by the underhanded tactics of the Empire. It was an affront to his honor almost too grievous to bear. Once this contract was over they would understand the phrase, Mando'ad draar digu.

A mandalorian never forgets.

He would find the names of every single person involved in this disgraceful scheme of treachery… and he would see them pay for their disloyalty.

Snarling, he tore a vibro-dagger from a case of the bladed weapons propped chest height to him on a stack of crates, and irately hurled it into the hull on the far side of the cargo hold, the blade sinking into the thick armor plating and lodging itself home amidst a cluster of identical weapons.

“Observation: Master, my sensors detect a dangerous rise in your adrenal glands. Is something the matter?” A rather posh synthetic voice questioned with a coolness that the mandalorian did not currently possess.

A’den took a deep breath, forcing himself to try and relax as he turned to face the rust red droid patiently standing less than a foot from the collection of knives that pincushioned the hull.

Only one good thing had come out of this whole unpleasant deal.

The Empire had delivered on his requests. Soon after he left Nar Shadda, he had been contacted once more by the same imperial agent, who he had never bothered to learn the name of. That pile of osik didn’t deserve one. Shortly after, he received the HK unit’s vocabulator. Then after installing it, days later, he managed to learn a great deal about his robotic associate, and that he had quite an interesting personality matrix.

The bounty hunter found the droid to be rather amusing, appreciating its sardonic wit.

“I’m fine HK, just blowing off some steam.” He answered the droid, staring at the hull for a few more moments as he debated on whether this was a good use of his time. The debate ended shortly, he no longer feeling the need to vent his irritation on his ship. It served no purpose and would only make more work for him later. With a sigh he released the dagger that had been until that time, poised to throw, dropping it back into the case. Turning, he headed towards the exit hatch connected to the cargo hold, a tired sigh passing through lips. HK, the ever obedient unit, followed in-step behind him.

“Statement: If I may be so bold, Master. I find that killing meatbags is the best way to express ones anger properly.” HK suggested rather casually from his position next to the mandalorian.

At that A’den allowed himself a small chuckle as he climbed the ladder up to the crew deck. “Yes, so you’ve told me.”

“Statement: It is a tried and true method, Master.” The droid responded modestly, ascending after him.

“That as it may be. We are currently floating in an asteroid belt, which makes it kind of hard to find a ‘meatbag’ as you so elegantly put it, to kill.” He gestured down the corridor to the cockpit, where an asteroid was at that moment, floating past the windows. He was not all that concerned since the ship’s point defense systems were active and he would receive a warning before anything too big for the PDS to handle got close.

As soon as the supplies had been loaded he had set course for the Meridian System, intending to get this contract fulfilled as quickly as possible so he could get his information. He did not expect much trouble from this mercenary group. From reading their reports he learned a great deal about them. From combat records they were indeed excellent pilots, he was not surprised that the Empire had been able to splice them from the Lylatian databases, willing to admit that imperials were indeed the best when it came to hunting for information. It was in fact the only reason he bothered to accept the contract, knowing that they could find the man he searched for.

From reports, he learned they were mediocre at best when planetside, anywhere close quarters really. Unfortunately info on the force user was still scare, but he did not expect her to be that much of a problem. He had dealt with his fair share of Jedi and Sith wannabes, none of them remotely stacked up to the generals he had fought alongside, or against, during the Clone Wars.

He did not expect her to be any different.

A’den already had a plan on how to deal with them, a plan HK had abetted. And if the droid’s calculation was correct, it would be the best way to nullify the advantage they held over him with their ships. Arwings, a lylatian model starfighter and apparently one of the best designs in the market, the secrets of its engineering closely guarded by their government. Those could prove to be a challenge for his freighter, even with its upgrades, and A’den was disappointed with himself that he had left his own starfighter back on Mandalore. With it he was confident he could have wiped the floor with them. But the freighter’s dock had been damaged in his last space born conflict, and he forced to leave it behind

“Observation: True, Master.” The automaton sounded almost… disappointed. “Proposal: Might I suggest we find the meatbags?”

“HK…” A’den sighed in exasperation, refraining from rubbing his face in annoyance. “The Empire would prefer them to be alive. I believe I have told you this quite a few times. And yes, I would also prefer them alive.” Disenfranchised as he currently was with the Empire, in the end, a contract was still a contract. And while taking them alive would increase the difficulty of an already problematic task by a hundredfold, he would not cheapen himself by taking the easiest path.

After all, half the reason he followed this profession was the thrill of the hunt, the other half of that motive being the high profits one earned in such a line of work. And the least he could expect from this was an interesting test of his skills.

“Reassurance: Of course, Master. I was not implying otherwise.” The droid paused, his cognitive processes mulling something over. “Innocent Query: Master… there are many dangers in the galaxy. What if-”

“No HK.” A’den interrupted the droid with another, more prolonged sigh. “I would prefer to have them all alive. That means no accidents.” He stressed firmly.

“Objection: Master! Why kind of droid to you take me for?” The machine’s fabricated tone of offense brought a smile to the hunter’s otherwise grim countenance as he watched it placed a mechanical hand on its chest in perfect mimicry of indignity.

“An assassin droid, I believe is what you call yourself.” A’den mused with a grin as he entered the armory, crossing through to the stand upon which his armor stood. As much as he loved his beskar’gam, wearing it at all hours of the day was not strictly necessary or viable.

“Correction: I am but a simple protocol droid, Master, one imprinted with a… particular set of skills as it were.”

“Of course you are.” The mandalorian wryly shook his head as he traveled down a row of weapons to the stand holding up his armor. He had spent a great deal of time during the trip here upgrading many of its outdated components and he was eager to put them up to the test. A’den hoped this mercenary team might prove to be a decent challenge for him. The bounty hunter found no satisfaction in easy takes.

As he undressed to slip on the body suit that went underneath the armor, he glanced over his shoulder to the droid hovering in the door way. “Do you have to just stand there?”

“Statement: You have not given me an order, Master.” Was the droid’s banal reply.

A’den rolled his eyes. “Go pilot the ship or something. And inform me if they take the bait.”

“Statement: Of course, Master.” HK rotated on his mechanical heels and marched out of the room.

“Droids…” The mandalorian muttered as he reached for the breastplate.

*****

Once was suited up, he grabbed his usual choice in gear and headed towards the cockpit to check on HK, finding the droid lodged securely in the co-pilots seat, the golden glow of its photoreceptors locked onto the ship’s impressive long range scanners. A’den had revamped the entire system a few years ago, jury-rigging a scout vessel’s sensor dish onto his ship’s hull. It was an ugly patch job, but that did not downplay its usefulness. It gave the ship a far larger scan radius then the base factory model, and was what helped him run quite a few blockades and ambushes in its time since.

“Find anything?” He asked, plopping down in the captain’s chair and swiveling to face his robotic companion.

“Query: If you mean floating space rocks? Then yes, Master.” The droid answered idly, not bothering to face A’den.

“HK, I’m starting to see why you were in the condition I found you in.” The bounty hunter grunted, propping his helmet on the main console and rummaging in his utility belt for a ration bar. Shedding the silver plastic of the wrapping, he gnawed on the block of wholesome calories, vitamins, and carbohydrates with a dissatisfied groan. He did not often eat anything else, not trusting others to make his food and not much of a cook himself. Anything more complicated than a nerf steak with a side of eggs was beyond his level of culinary skill.

“Outraged: Master, whatever do you mean?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. Just keep your photoreceptors on the scanner and let me know if you see anything.” A’den muttered as he scarfed down the field bar.

“Statement: As you wish, Master.” The assassin droid let out a breathless synthesized sigh. “Resignation: I suppose you would like to know there are six unregistered contacts hiding in the asteroid cluster on the portside.”

The mandalorian suddenly hunched over, a chunk of the dehydrated ration sticking in his esophagus. “How long have they been there?” He demanded between his coughing fit, tossing the protein bar’s wrapper to the deck and leaning forwards, towards the console.

“Answer: They have been there since we entered the system, Master.”

“Then why am I just learning about this now?” A’den demanded as he eyed the droid accusatorily.

“Statement: I could not accurately confirm their position until now, Master. However, it would appear they are preparing to make their move.” The machine placed a mechanized digit over the radar screen, pointing out the cluster of dots hiding out in the asteroid field, a common ambush tactic, one A’den had used a few times for himself, to great effect.

Seeing how close they were, the hunter frowned.

“Next time I’ll be clearer in my instructions. But for the record HK, feel free to tell me these things before they happen.” The mandalorian suggested as he flicked a switch and geared the freighter’s engines.

“Statement: Of course, Master. Shall I prime the device?” HK dropped a hand down to the recently installed lever on the side of the console he was manning.

“No. Not yet, we have to sell it. Otherwise the plan’ll never work.” A’den gripped the controls in his gauntlets and slammed the ignition, launching the freighter into movement. Even with the gravity stabilizer’s he felt the ship jump violently underneath his chair, forcing him back into his seat. His helmet flew of the console and landed in his lap, he having forgotten to grab it in his haste.

“HK, have they taken the bait?” He asked, the bounty hunter too busy looping through the cluttered asteroid field to pay attention to the radar on his right. It was taking all of his skill to avoid the labyrinth of huddled space rocks. With the valid appearance of them having found out their attackers plan, he suspected they would be forced to make their move now to avoid letting him escape, rather than later as they might have wished.

“Statement: Yes, Master. You seem to have certainly grabbed their attention. Six targets are in close pursuit.”

That was good. So far everything was going according to the strategy they had devised. After closely studying the reports on the attacks and the style of the mercenary group themselves, both he and HK came to the conclusion that they were most likely based on a carrier vessel in this system, from which they orchestrated and enacted their raids on the imperial convoys.

It fit their M.O. and that of the rebellion’s perfectly, rapid strikes based from a mobile command center. It was how the rebels had managed to avoid the wrath of the Empire for so long while still being an effective thorn in their side.

He would have applauded their tenacity if not for the fact he was contracted to put this particular rebel outfit to an end.

A’den was thrown from his thoughts as the freighter shook violently. Glancing out the viewport, he just managed to catch a glimpse of a silver and white blur as it zoomed past, seconds before his vessel shuddered once more from another impact.

One thing was for sure, their ships definitely hit harder.

“Warning: Master, the deflector shields have suffered moderate damage!”

Grimacing, he pushed the controls to the left, spiraling the freighter through a gaping hole in a massive asteroid. With the momentary respite it offered, he transferred power from the engines to the forward shields and gave orders to the assassin droid through clenched teeth. “HK, forget the sensors and hop onto the quad cannon. Keep them from getting too close and don’t forget. Make it convincing!”

“Statement: With pleasure, Master.” The automaton replied enthusiastically, sliding out of his chair and swiftly clanking out the cockpit. Not a few moments later, A’den heard the deep thrum of the cannon powering up.

With HK now focused on keeping the ships from getting too close, A’den could put his focus on navigating the labyrinthine asteroid belt to keep his newfound fans from punching a hole in his beloved ship. They only needed a few more minutes to draw the game out. Then he could pull the lever and arm the trap. His only hope at the moment was that it wouldn’t backfire horrendously. Even with the droid’s comprehensive and systematic calculations, there remained a sliver of a chance that things could go irreversibly wrong.

The ship quivered again as another shot found its mark, sending his helmet flying upwards. Hastily taking a hand of the controls, he snatched the errant helm out of the air and quickly popped it onto his head.

The bounty hunter played a dangerous game of cat and mouse as he weaved through the field of asteroids, doggedly hunted by the six enemy pilots in close pursuit. And as multiple shots connected with and whittled away at his enhanced shields, A’den was grudgingly willing to admit they were better than he expected.

Even with HK on the topside cannon, that was barely sufficient in keeping them at bay for long. But that did not matter much as it was more of a delaying tactic than anything. No doubt if the droid was truly trying to shoot them down, he would have succeeded once or twice, just as the attackers were not going in for the kill either. The only shots that connected to the Gra’tua were aimed at paralyzing the ship, no doubt so they could get to the contents of his cargo hold. If not for that he was confident they would not have only been using the laser cannons. He could have expected a few torpedoes up the aft otherwise.

Weaving through a particularly dense cloud of asteroids, A’den lowered a gauntlet to the lever hastily built into the co-pilot’s seat, intending to pull it at just the right moment to make the next part of his little act as convincing as possible.

“I apologize in advance.” He muttered remorsefully to his ship as he gave the yolk a particularly hard tug towards the right, clipping the closest rock, the resulting impact forcing the ship into a momentarily uncontrolled spin. Fighting to keep himself orientated as the freighter twisted violently underneath him, A’den yanked hard on the switch, praying he had not just condemned himself to a most humiliating death.

Instead of detonating into a million shards of molten shrapnel as he had expected, the freighter’s engines suddenly and violently powered down, perfectly mimicking all the right signs of a catastrophic malfunction, complimentary power outage included. Without guidance, the now powerless ship drifted listlessly in the void, A’den’s piloting leaving it just at the edge of the asteroid field, and suitably out of range of any rocks large enough to hurt the ship.

Yet still he winced in sympathy upon hearing the clatter of smaller pebbles colliding with the unshielded hull.

“Query: Since we have not been terminated I take it the plan is a success?” HK approached the cockpit, having left the turret once it powered down.

A’den shrugged, leaning indifferently back into his seat. “We’ll just have to wait and see. If we’re not dead in the next few minutes, then I guess it did.

“Statement: That is a most unappealing answer, Master.”

The mandalorian offered the droid only another shrug in response as he waited silently for the next event to set itself in motion. Seeing as they were for all intents and purposes ‘disabled’, it was safe to assume that the pilots would call for their carrier to pick them up, and thusly retrieve the cargo from his ship.

And in turn that would make it quite easy for him to collect all his targets at once, nullifying their flight advantage. The fact that they would have a carrier’s worth of rebel troops as support was not all that much of a concern for him. A’den had dealt with far more dire circumstances. He could expect at most, thirty to forty actual combat personnel onboard that ship, having gained insider knowledge of rebel strength and positioning from the occasion contract he took for and against them. It would take minimal effort to dispatch the, even less if he had no intention of leaving survivors. And with the addition of HK into his plans, he suspected to meet no substantial resistance.

True to form, not soon after he brooded on his plans, a flicker of movement winked into existence at the edge of the system, the new vessel bearing all the hallmarks of a rebel carrier, a CR90 corvette config model was his guess, meaning anywhere from 30 to 150 crew members.

Looks like he got lucky.

A’den watched as the six fighters that had ‘taken him out’, flitted around to rendezvous with their transport, task believed to be complete. The mandalorian had been surprised not to hear a boastful quip over the comms, knowing the teams reputation he had all but expected it. So he was left pleasantly surprised. If they could be professional, they just might prove to be a decent challenge, or at the very least, some fun to toy with.

He had half a mind to shut down the electromagnetic wave emitter HK had jury-rigged, if only to play one more trick on them, but only his sense of professional courtesy prevented him from doing so. He would let the mercenaries revel in their victory, after all…

It would be their last.

*****

Fox could not help but feel uneasy as he set course back for the Majestic, Giving one last glance back to the strange freighter they had disabled. Its appearance was different to that of the usual stock imperial transports that frequented this asteroid belt. But perhaps more it had been the pilot to worry him more. They had not flown like some rooky imp fighter jockey, it had taken the team’s full coordination to finally knock it out, and even then their victory felt hollow, almost as this was all planned. But that was just too crazy.

Why would the imperials willingly surrender their cargo? Just to be safe, he would have to ask Kalen to check the crates for any signs of tampering or tracking devices. It wouldn’t hurt to be safe, but it would if they didn’t. They had not spent more than a few months working for the rebellion under orders from Peppy, but in that time Fox had already learned a great deal about the Empire, more than his admittedly inferior beforehand knowledge, and none of it was good. At first he had been reluctant to travel across the entire galaxy to get involved in someone else’s war, but now he saw what would happen if the rebel’s lost.

Lylat would not survive an attack by the Empire, especially not so soon after the Aparoids, a Conflict he recalled with a grimace, the Empire had refrained from assisting in, though they most assuredly had the power to do so. It had been the rebellion to offer aid in the form of supplies, and pilots, an influx in support that was very much needed and even more so appreciated.

And it was the rebel’s that kept imperial attention focused away from their small system at the very fringe of known space. So he was glad to help them in return with this small favor. It was just that the last few runs had bothered him. The convoys had slowly petered off, both in size and occurrence until they ended all together. And just as they suspected the Empire had given up on this hyperspace lane, another convoy passes through, except this one consisting of a single, non-imperial vessel. If not for the imperial supplies detected onboard, they would have let it past.

Yet still it troubled him.

“Hey Fox what’s the deal with the silence? You brooding or something?”

The vulpine shook himself out of his musing and glanced at the transceiver on his control board, recognizing Falco as the one to break the silence.

“It’s nothing.” He replied. “Or at least… I don’t think so.”

“Why, what’s wrong?” Fay decided to enter the conversation, Fox glancing out the canopy to see the canine’s arwing slid into formation besides him.

“I don’t know. Didn’t this seem a little… too easy? The last few convoys at least had fighter escorts, this one was just on its own.” He still could not believe that the Empire cared so little about their provisions as to send a single freighter, undefended.

“Not really. That pilot seemed pretty competent.” Slippy chimed in. They had all been surprised at how well the enemy pilot withstood their attacks, evading with a skill one would not expect to find in a freight hauler.

“That’s exactly my point!” Fox exclaimed. “Why waste supplies, or a pilot like that for the matter, on such a mundane run in a sector known for heavy piracy?”

“Maybe the genuinely just don’t care.” Miyu offered. “I mean the Empire’s pretty damn big. It probably doesn’t’ matter if a freighter or two goes missing.” Indeed that was why the rebellion had gotten away with as much as they had, slowly whittling away at imperial assets at the fringes of space.

“Still… I have a bad feeling about this.” Fox muttered, too low for the others to hear. Deciding to let his team have their moment, he instead focused on Krystal, who had remained largely quite throughout both the fight and conversation afterwards.

He was not quite sure what to think about the vixen. She had shown up at the ramp of his ship a few years ago, completely out of the blue, (no pun intended he added in a musing chuckle), a Cerinian force user from the mysterious Jedi Academy on her homeworld. He hadn’t put much stock into the force before then, considering it some religious garbage like the countless other spiritual gimmicks one could fine spread across the galaxy. Yet he had swiftly been proven wrong. The force was quite real, and that made her an integral part of the team, irreplaceable.

Even now, years later, he still did not know quite why she joined his team. Her reasons were just as enigmatic as the women herself and she had not divulged them no matter how many times Fox prompted her. Yet despite the vixen’s secrecy, her feelings of premonition had gotten them out of many a hairy situation and so he decided not to press her too hard.

If anyone would know what was going on. It would be her.

“You feeling anything, Krystal?” He asked curiously, hoping she would either ease or affirm his fears.

The comms were silent as the vixen composed her thoughts. “I sense nothing out of the ordinary Fox.” She paused. “And yet… perhaps all is too ordinary. Something is indeed off about this, but I am afraid I cannot tell what. I would advise our rebel friends to remain alert.”

Fox nodded, taking her advice to heart, choosing to contact the carrier.

“Majestic come in, this is Saber-1.”

“This is Majestic, what’s your status? Is the freighter neutralized?”

Fox recognized the voice as belonging to Kalen, one of the more friendlier rebels onboard the corvette, who also served as the ship’s captain, albeit a rather young one. Then again he supposed he was no older than Kalen when he took command over his late father’s mercenary company.

“Roger, the target is disabled, but be advised, something doesn’t quiet feel right about this one. The Empire sent what looks like a civilian contractor, and a damn good pilot at that.”

There was a momentary pause. “Copy that, and don’t worry Saber-1. We’ll have a unit of marines on standby after pickup. Now hustle back to the ship, we’re jumping in sixty.”

Fox was surprised. They had been patrolling this system for at least a few weeks. And in that time they had hit the Empire hard from a reasonably stable position. So that begged the question, why bug out now? He decided to wait to ask Kalen in person once they docked with the ship.

It only took a few minutes to reach the forward facing fighter bay of the rebel corvette, the relatively large hanger crowded with a small crew of technicians and droids of various type and build. Landing his arwing in the center of the bay, Fox popped the canopy and unharnessed himself from the seat as a tech courteously rolled a step ladder out for him, resulting in a small smirk from the Vulpine.

‘If only I had this kind of service back when I still had my own ship.’ It had been a major blow to his morale, watching the Great Fox as it went up in flames over the Aparoid homeworld. Since then they had never decided on a suitable replacement. Indeed as if there was anything that could replace it.

“Great work out there today, Mister Mccloud!”

Fox smiled at the praise, giving the young technician a two fingered salute as he strolled away, heading for the interior doors that would take him to the heart of the ship. Sighing, he tugged on the orange visored targeting helmet he and the others had received, lugging it under an arm as he combed a paw through his sweat soaked fur.

But damn it felt good to get that thing off.

He had been reluctant to work for the rebellion when he first arrived, yet they were nothing like he had expected. As a whole, the rebels had welcomed his team with open arms, even having heard of their exploits back in Lylat which earned them an even warmer welcome. This had astounded him considering the majority of the rebels he met were human, and all his experiences with humans previously had been at the behest of the Empire.

He supposed that went to show that not every member of a species could be inherently evil. The humans here were doing much to prove that fact.

Stopping at the blast doors, Fox turned back to watch the rest of his team disembark their own fighters and meet up with him here. It was strange, seeing them adorned in the bright orange flight suits of the rebellion. He had originally been against the idea, but Kalen convinced him otherwise, saying it would help show solidarity or something to that affect.

‘I just wish the damn things weren’t so constrictive.’ He grumbled, pulling at the baggy suit. It had a way of pinching fur that just about drove him mad if he wore the damned thing for more than an hour. But he supposed it was acceptable if it kept the Captain happy.

“Well, that was kind of a letdown.” Miyu frowned, helmet similarly tucked away.

None of them had really been fans of it, but it did help improve their accuracy by a small margin so Fox had ordered them to use it, a command that had not been accepted easily.

He knew the feline, like most of her species, liked to hunt. She above all the others was most vocal in publicizing her dissatisfaction at their current job. And he couldn’t blame her. Compared to the usual work they had back in Lylat, this was a cake run. Still, work was work, so they couldn’t really complain about having a steady influx of credits, which the rebellion had faithfully doled out each month. Fox had already started saving for a new ship, one that would replace the Great Fox.

“Perk up Miyu, maybe with this relocation we might get something a little more challenging.”

“Yeah… maybe.” She muttered.

“At least we’re done raiding supply convoys. Not much honor in that.” Falco cut in as he twirled his helmet in his feathered hands.

The avian had not easily approved of the rebels methods of operation, finding that it was not only a waste of their skill but a job that was not as clean as he hoped. Fox would not say it aloud, but he tended to agree with his friend. He would not deny that every mission had its reason, but he had come here expecting more… demanding positions. Instead they lounged about the ship for days on end, waiting for an easy target to pop up and sweep aside.

“Alright guys, we can save the chatter for latter after we’ve changed and got a bite to eat.” He motioned for his team to disperse when a voice pipped in from behind him.

“Might want to hold off on that one, Fox.”

The vulpine looked over his shoulder to see Kalen enter the hanger, a small group of heavily armed rebel marines in tow. It was rare for him to come down to the fighter bay, so Fox could only assume something important drew him here.

“Why’s that, Sir.” Fay voiced the question they all were thinking.

The human nodded in her direction. “As you must no doubt be curious about, we’re dropping our operations in this system and heading back to home fleet. We’ve received some disturbing reports from one of our sources inside the Empire, and it is pertinent that you be made aware.”

Fox did not like the sound of that. “What is it?”

Kalen motioned for them to follow. “I’ll explain on the way.”

“Where are we going?” Krystal inquired.

“To greet our newest guests.” He replied with a smirk.

He was of course referencing the freighter they had hijacked. By now it had become pretty commonplace. After a ship was taken the crew was offered a choice, to join the rebellion. If they refused, as most did, the supplies from the ship were taken, and the crew… dealt with. It wasn’t pretty, but their existence here had to be kept a secret for as long as it was possible.

It did not sit well with Fox or any of his team. Though Krystal had been, and still was, the most opposed to this, the vixen mentioning something about it going against her code. But Fox had given her a long talk about it. And in the end she stopped bringing it up with Kalen or the rest of his men. But that did not stop her from occasionally giving them a hard glare whenever it was mentioned.

As she was right that moment…

The human’s smile faded and he turned back to the door, unable to meet her glare. And Fox did not fault him, few could. Those bright jade eyes were capable of making even the toughest individual feel small and insignificant. Even Wolf had been unable to withstand it.

The rebel Captain decided it best to remain quiet for a time as he led them down to the airlock, passing through countless white hallways, waiting till her ire had dissipated. It was a wise course of action.

Halfway to their destination, he at last decided to speak after Slippy prompted him a question.

“So what we’re you going to tell us?”

“Ah yes of course.” He nodded in understanding. “Something has come to light that would deem it judicious for you all to lay low for the foreseeable future.”

“What could possibly call for that?” Miyu demanded.

“It would seem our efforts here have not gone unnoticed. We knew this could not continue on forever, but the response from the Empire was… unexpected to say the least.”

“And that response is?” Falco prompted.

“To put it simply a hit has been put out, on all six of you.”

“A hit?” Fay raised her brow skeptically. “That doesn’t sound very worrisome.”

The entire wrath of Venom had been forced down upon them during the war, surely a few bounty hunters would be something they could handle.

Among all of them, only Fox realized the significance of what Kalen was saying.

‘Wait, you mean they know who we are?” So far they had been anonymous, under the Empire’s radar. But if they were aware….

Fox felt a ball of ice crystalize in his stomach. That could potentially lead them back to Lylat, with enough provocation to start a war they could not hope to win.

“To be sure, they are conscious of your identities.” The human established in all seriousness. “But do not worry,” He assured them as he noticed their distraught expressions. “The Empire would need more than that to attack your system. This is why you were selected, as mercenaries you have no sworn allegiance. Nothing binds you to Lylat. However, if any of you are captured, that would swiftly change as the Empire would have all the proof they needed.”

“Sure, that’s bad and all. But why are we running? Surely we can take care of a couple of deadbeat mercs.” Falco didn’t believe this was enough to simply up and quit. They all knew the dangers involved with their job.

“That might be the case… if that had been who they hired.” The human was darkly serious.

“So? Who did they hire? I’m sure we can take them”

“Not them,” Kalen repudiated. “Him.”

“What, they sent one guy after all six of us?”

“Correct, and that is all they need I am afraid.”

“Really?” Falco squawked incredulously.

“Just who is this man?” Krystal demanded, the vixen’s eyes narrowing sharply. She did not believe a single individual could be a genuine threat to them.

“A’den Lok, a Mandalorian and extremely effective bounty hunter of considerable renown. You may not know of him but I assure you, he is not to be underestimated.” Upon hearing his name, the marines following the captain exchanged fearful, furtive glances.

Fox picked up on Kalen’s tone. “You know him personally?”

“I have… encountered him, but once. He had been contracted by command to assist in raiding an imperial armory.”

Judging from his expression, it had been something not easily forgotten.

Wait.

“You worked with him, how is that possible?” Miyu was shocked to hear that.

“A’den is a mercenary in the very truest sense of the word. He works for whomever pays him, be it the Empire or the Rebellion. He has helped us as much as he has hindered us, and if it could be done I’d rather see him on our side then theirs. Unfortunately it appears as if the Empire has reached him first this time. So we must run.”

All right, so he’s a bit of a badass, I still don’t see how he can pose a threat to us. I mean he’s still just one guy right?” Falco looked to his friends dubiously.

“You say this because you have never met him. I have, which is why I insist that we return to the fleet. That may be the only secure place for us… hopefully.” The rebel sounded uncertain. “It is best that we finish up with this freighter as quick as we can and jump out of the system.”

As he spoke they arrived at a hallway larger than the others, the corridor packed with a small group of armed soldiers in blue and grey fatigues. Ahead of them was the airlock, a slab of grey durasteel connecting them to the other ship.

Kalen ushered the team to the side, out of sight in case the crew of this ship decided to put up a fight. “Once this is dealt with and the supplies transferred we’ll leave. Thankfully, we only need get the supplies. Since we are presumably already compromised, there is no need to maintain secrecy.”

The human turned towards the airlock. “Alright, cut it op-” He was interrupted as the door hissed with displacing air, it having been activated on the other side. The shocked expression on Kalen’s face only widened into fear as a single individual strode confidently onboard, as if the ship was under their command.

The figure’s race and gender lay concealed under a billowing cloak, the inside as black as the void of space, its external fabric enveloped in a layer of golden scales that shown resplendently in the light of the hallway. The hood was deep enough to conceal their features, leaving them shadowed in darkness as they examined the tightly packed corridor, bustling with rebel soldiers. But it was not until the hooded gaze landed on Kalen that the unidentified figure finally reacted.

A synthesized, deep grating chuckle boomed from underneath the confines of the cowl, giving them a masculine voice as the hood shifted side to side in disappointment.

“Kalen Rios, what an unpleasant surprise… You really shouldn’t be here.”

The team watched as the rebel captain visibly flinched, fear completely taking over his expression as he uttered a single, disbelieving word.

“A’den?”