Tales from the New Republic (29 page)

“It’s not working,” Tyrix said, slamming a hand onto his console. “That ship’s just too fast for our turrets to track. We’re barely touching him and he’s already knocked three quarters of our shield generators off-line.” The damage control screen flashed the grim news. “Another run like that and he’ll leave us defenseless!”

“No one is that good,” Xarran thundered. The General was shaking with rage. “Launch the entire squadron. I want every TIE we have in the air now.”

Nodding, Tyrix punched the comm panel, calling for all pilots to report to their spacecraft. He turned to Xarran, “Should we sound the code alarm, sir?”

“No,” Xarran said, his face flushing slightly. “I’ve served in the Imperial Army for most of my life and I will not be taunted into sounding full alert by one man, no matter how powerful he may appear to be. Besides, Fett will not breach the perimeter… the TIEs will see to that.”

Tyrix paused a moment before responding—a sign of disapproval he would never dare to vocalize. “As you wish, sir.”

Rivo shook his head. “Why won’t you take the precautions? It won’t hurt to—”

Xarran cut him off. “There isn’t much good you can do up here, brother. Perhaps you should return to your quarters.”

“But, I’m… fine.” Rivo saw the look on Xarran’s face and silently walked to the turbolift.

Slave I
soared through the skies, taking potshots at the forty TIE fighters giving chase. Fett hated to see such an unfair fight, but there was nothing he could do about it. His ship was faster, more maneuverable, and bristled with twice as much weaponry as all the fighters put together. And unlike the TIEs,
Slave I
had shields. The Imperial fighters were hopelessly outmatched, even with the rather simplistic combat routines he had preprogrammed into the ship. The attacks on the garrison were typical Rebel strafing runs the Empire had so much trouble dealing with, while the evasive maneuvers against the TIEs were randomized according to sensor information. Fett avoided having
Slave I
be too aggressive with the fighters. Preprogramming was still no match for a live pilot.

All things considered, it was a good distraction, but would be over relatively soon. He was going to have to hurry.

Most of the stormtrooper patrols had cleared the catwalks—those that remained had their attention focused on the skies above.

Fett sprinted for the perimeter fence. When he closed half the distance he engaged his jet pack and soared into the air in a burst of flame. Elevating quickly, the hunter easily cleared the ten-meter-high fence, continued over the energy mine field between the fence and the base, and executed a perfect landing on the catwalk.

He checked his blaster rifle and quickly moved to the observation platform to his left. The first stormtrooper to step out caught a bolt in the helmet and went down. In midstride Fett sent a stun grenade arcing through the air and into the guardhouse. His faceplate tinted opaque as the flash-bang erupted, so the hunter didn’t miss a beat when he dove inside the blast door on his stomach. Wild blaster bolts erupted overhead as Fett calmly picked off all five stormtroopers manning the tower.

He sealed the entrance behind him and walked over to the computer terminal. Fett entered the encryption codes he had purchased from an unsavory Bothan and went to work. The first thing he pulled up was a three-dimensional schematic of the garrison.

“Status?”

Tyrix glanced at the General and almost smiled. “We took heavy losses but the TIEs are routing him. Take a look.”

The Commander stepped away from the tactical screen. Xarran studied the images for a few moments, watching as
Slave I
slowly led the TIE fighters away from the base. “It’s a feint.”

“What?”

“Fett’s not on that ship.”

Tyrix was confused. “Then where is he?”

“Here.” It pained the General to say it. “Inside the perimeter by now, I’d venture. Sound the code alarm—reference an intruder alert. Go to full battle stations and step up interior patrols.” Xarran quietly walked back to his chair and dropped down as if the weight of an AT-AT was set upon his shoulders.

Fett stood at the command console of Sub-Level 3. Over a dozen stunned or dead technicians were scattered around the room. The hunter studied the illuminated panels which controlled the base’s main power, backup generators, tractor beams, and deflector shield generators. He went to work…

Tyrix nearly fell out of his chair. “Sir! We have him!”

“What?” The General was by his side in seconds.

“Someone’s accessing the main control units on Sub-Level Three.” He called up the data. “See? He’s using a code from last month, and the computer flagged it.”

“It has to be Fett. He’s trying to shut us down.” Xarran contemplated his response. “Send three squads down to… no, wait. Seal off that room immediately. We’ll flood it with Chemtrox gas and that will be the last of our little bounty hunter.”

Tyrix’s voice lowered. “But what if it’s not him…? And even if it is, he could have some technicians—”

Xarran pushed the Commander out of the way. His fingers flew over the console and a smile slowly dawned on his face. Fett was shutting down all systems and there was no time for moral debate. The race was on again and this time Xarran would win.

Fett whirled around as the heavy blast doors sealed and locked. He was effectively trapped. So, they finally discovered his trick and now knew where he was. It certainly took them long enough. Of course it was too late. Fett was about to cut the power.

He was so absorbed in his work that he almost missed it… luckily, his sound sensors picked up the recessed vents clicking open and the slow, steady hiss of gas being pumped into the room.

A quick scan revealed the substance to be Chemtrox—an extremely lethal agent. Fett had heard it delivered a particularly painful death. He didn’t intend to find out firsthand if the rumors were true.

Fett activated his armor’s enviro filter seal. It protected him from harmful or deadly atmosphere and there was a two-hour supply of air.

As the Chemtrox gas swirled around him Fett prepared to shut down the main computer.

“There…” Xarran wiped the sweat from his forehead and sat back in Tyrix’s chair. “It’s over. No one could have possibly survived that.”

Everything went black. Every last bit of power in the entire garrison base. There was only darkness.

The Commander’s voice rang out. “You were saying, sir?”

A blaster shot sent a crimson flash of light through the control room and Tyrix’s body hit the floor. General Xarran activated a glowrod and hefted his blaster pistol. His eyes danced wildly in the soft light, then focused on the corpse of his Commander.

The terrified faces of the base command crew stared back at him as if he had suddenly transformed into a mynock. Xarran fired three bolts into the ceiling. “Everyone out. Now!”

The crew quickly obeyed, stumbling over themselves to reach the emergency stairs. The General entered his office and sat down in front of his console. There was one system that would not have been affected by the loss of main or backup power. It ran off a special generator that only he knew about—well, he and Tyrix, but the Commander wouldn’t be talking any time soon.

Xarran activated the panel and smiled as the base’s self-destruct system lit up with crimson letters. The General lowered his head to accommodate the retinal scanner and began reciting the code to activate the countdown.

Fett moved through the darkened, deserted corridors of the base. Except for the steadfast stormtroopers, nearly everyone had fled the once-mighty garrison. With his sound, motion, infrared, and targeting sensors all activated, picking off the ivory-armored opponents was ridiculously easy.

Of course, the one person who mattered was also present… somewhere in the bowels of the garrison.

Fett had paid a small fortune to have the unwitting fool tagged with one of his special microscopic subdermal trackers back on Inat Prime. It was a wise investment.

Jabba had not placed an open bounty on Rivo Xarran; rather, His Bloatedness had offered the job solely to Fett… fifty thousand credits. Dead or alive.

Fett suspected the Hutt wanted to see just how good Fett really was. Jabba knew Rivo would run to his big brother for help and an entire Imperial 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 holstered 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 hold-out 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…