Leaning back in my chair, I snarled. “Shab!” The Mando’a curse slipped easily from me as I pulled back from the Force, unable to sense Anakin in the system.
“No luck?”
“No,” I replied, glancing at Simvyl. “He’s not in the system.” I paused and raised an arm, pointing in the rough direction where it had felt Anakin was coming from. “That way. Give or take.”
“Observation: I am impressed with your accurate ability to provide directions, Master.”
I ignored HK’s sarcasm, as in his place, I’d share it. However, the method that Adas had taught me while we’d travelled to the closest system where HK felt the Trandoshans might’ve taken Anakin was helping narrow down the location. Or at least I hoped it was, as while it had yet to bear fruit, it was providing a general sense of where my son was.
The issue was that if the Trandoshans were still moving – which given we were barely a day after Anakin’s abduction was possible – then it wouldn’t be as effective. Still, it was quicker than spending hours, if not days, scanning each possible system for signs that any ships had arrived and approached the habitable, but generally uninhabited, planets that might be used as hunting grounds. Still, with Raven pushing herself so we were travelling at 0.5 past lightspeed – a drop of 0.2 on her official hyperspace rating – we were able to cover a half-dozen systems inside a day.
While using the Force as a very rough compass was, I felt, helping, I knew it wouldn’t be enough to find Anakin in time. I could sense his fear even at the distance between us with the only upsides being that it wasn’t growing weaker – suggesting he was travelling far from us – nor was it evolving into something worse, which would suggest the Trandoshans were beginning their hunt. I did wonder why he’d not yet tried to escape, as even with the limited training he’d had with using the Force, he should be able to cause trouble. However, perhaps he was simply showing restraint and applying the lesson I’d put in place when we’d left Karvoss II.
Since we’d be travelling as Mando’ade until we reached the Shapers, I’d warned him against using the Force except in the direst of circumstances. He’d used it slightly in the battle before he’d been abducted, but not enough – at least according to what the Battlenet recording suggested – that his captors had realised he was a Force user. If he was being smart, he was waiting and biding his time. I felt the Trandoshans would’ve removed most of his armour to lower the threat he could pose, so he’d be limited in what he could do to escape his confinement. Fighting unarmed on a ship, in tight quarters where he could be easily tracked was harder than on whatever world the beasts were taking him to. There, slim as it was, he would have a greater chance at surviving until I arrived, or possibly even slipping from their hunting grounds and taking a few down in the process.
Still, needing help in cutting down the exceedingly long list of possible worlds HK had, I’d reached out to a handful of people who might have contacts in the underworld. The two most prominent contacts were Dukes Adonai and Torrhen. While the pair were honourable, many Mando’ade worked as bounty hunters, and there should – in theory – be some form of network between the Mando’ade in the profession who might be willing, for a price I was happy to pay, to provide intel on favoured Trandoshans hunting grounds and worlds in the Inner, Mid and Outer Rims.
I’d also reached out to Miraj Scintel and a handful of others who might have contacts. While officially, the Zygerrians were happy members of the Republic, I knew that, if things didn’t change, within a decade they’d return to their slaver roots. Because of that, there was a fair to good chance they still had connections into that world, which I could exploit. While I doubted they’d be of any use, it was worth the effort. Plus, even if I didn’t need her or her father’s help to find my son, the call ensured I remained in her thoughts, meaning the quest linked to her – Changing Fate [Miraj Scintel] – had a greater chance of success.
The only people that might be of use that I’d not yet reached out to were the Co-Chancellors. However, after over a day of fruitless searching, I was beginning to feel that letting Sidious and Plagueis know that I had a Padawan was less of a threat than allowing Anakin to be harmed, altered, or even killed by Trandoshans. The visions I’d seen of how, only together could we protect the galaxy from the encroaching darkness, meant Anakin’s importance hadn’t decreased because of my presence. Without him, the Force felt I didn’t stand a chance to emerge victorious from what was coming, and after the debacle of Naboo and Drallig’s death, I was placing more substance toward Force visions than I had before. If ensuring my best chance of victory meant alerting the Banite Sith to Anakin and thus starting their probes into his abilities and history, then that was what I’d do.
I could also, as Adas had hinted in our last conversation, delve deeper into the knowledge he held; to become a true apprentice to him. I was reluctant to take that path, though. While his words, and the ensuing discussion we’d had, during which he’d shown me how to use the Force as a rough compass to guide me toward Anakin, had made sense, I wasn’t ready to think deeply about them. Not until Anakin was back and I was able to properly centre myself would I decide if the path he offered, one that was neither Jedi nor Sith – at least not that of the Banite Sith – would be the one I took.
Still, his words about the Force’s concept of balance not matching what the Jedi felt was balance was something I agreed with, and had reached on my own. That the path taken by the Banite Sith was also, in Adas’ opinion, a false one was not a surprise either. It was because of him that I referred to Sidious and Plagueis as Banite Sith, as it was the term he’d used for them. How and when he’d learnt of Darth Bane he wouldn’t say, but I suspected he’d encountered a fallen Jedi or other Force user who’d known of the altered state of the Sith Lords brought forth by Bane. Still, I agreed with him and had been leaning that way even before first activating his holocron, that wiping the Jedi and Sith in their current forms from the board, and either rebuilding them myself or allowing others to do so, was the best choice for the galaxy. Such thinking was far into the future, and far from my concern currently.
My hands moved toward Raven’s hyperdrive controls, though before I even pushed the throttle, powering us into the faster-than-light travel, Raven had already engaged the engines. That brought a small smile to my face, as I enjoyed the ability she had to know my intentions and act upon them. And now, after Anakin’s abduction, to pilot herself to my location. I wasn’t sure how others would feel about a starship that could think, fly – and maybe even one day, fight – for itself, but Raven was as far beyond other vessels as I was beyond a monkey.
Less than half a minute after the transition to hyperspace was complete, the communication system beeped. As the Force rippled, suggesting a glimmer of hope, I opened the channel. “Miraj,” I said upon seeing the Zygerrian princess in what was a slightly revealing dress. Normally I’d be happy to appreciate her figure, even if I weren’t sure how far, if anywhere, I was willing to take things with her in that regard, but today wasn’t the time for it.
“Cameron,” she replied, my name rolling off her lips seductively. “How goes the search for your boy?”
“Nothing so far.” I’d not called Anakin my son with her, but she seemed to prefer calling him my child than an apprentice, which was her choice.
“While that is disappointing to hear, it does mean my news won’t be unwelcomed.” She leaned down, tapping at the controls wherever she was, and a moment later, Raven alerted me to incoming data. As normal, that was checked for any miscellaneous data, shunted into a secured sub-system, and before the data was accessed, that system was disconnected from the rest of Raven’s network. “One of my uncles, one far from the throne and who has turned to more… unsavoury ventures than my father and I approve of, has contacts in the underworld. One of those contacts, which he reached out to as a favour to me, has contacts of their own among the Trandoshans. For a price, that contact is willing to meet you and provide the data that might be of use.”
Part of me wondered what favour Miraj now owed her uncle, but it was something for her to handle. Just as, if this lead panned out, was the favour I’d owe her. “At this point, even if they can only provide a list of possible worlds, that will reduce my time searching immensely. Thank you,” I lowered my head, making clear I understood I owed her for the help.
“There is no need to thank me, Cameron. My family and I are still deeply in debt for the agreement you negotiated. One that is benefiting all of Zygerria.” She offered a wide, pleasant smile, making clear that she was still interested in me.
“Things are going well?” I asked, knowing that simply cutting the channel would be rude. Plus, with it taking time for HK and R2 – who was rolling toward the cockpit now – to examine and confirm the details of the contact and their location, it was better to at least appear interested.
“Yes. All the corporations are honouring the agreement, and have signed contracts with local subsidiaries to help revitalise Zygerrian markets and allow us to expand our influence across the sector. It has taken time, but even the lowest strata of our society are seeing improvements in their daily lives. My father has made sure that all know that without your help, none of us would be reaping the benefits we now experience.” As she spoke, her smile widened, and the way her tongue flicked against her teeth made clear how she wished to repay the debt she felt she owed me. “Perhaps, after you’ve recovered your boy and dealt with those who dared challenge your power, you might consider returning to Zygerria? There is much here I would enjoy showing you.” As she spoke, her fingers brushed her neck, drawing attention to her body, and removing any doubt of her intent.
“While I’m sure I would enjoy whatever it is you wish to show me, I cannot commit to a set date for visiting. Even after I’ve recovered my Padawan and those responsible face justice, I have other commitments.” I swore she shivered at the idea of my form of justice, which I suspected, was close to how I intended to deal with those walking handbags. “However, when it is time for a break in training, and if we are nearby, I will contact you about a visit.”
Honestly, I had no interest in flirting with her currently but being rude wasn’t worth it. I had time to kill before the data was confirmed, and cutting her off would only insult her. Well, unless she thought I was playing hard to get, but that was not something I particularly cared about currently.
Her smile slipped slightly when I’d made clear I wouldn’t be coming to Zygerria soon, but it recovered once I suggested I’d try to visit at some point. “I long for the day when I might see you again with my eyes, and not as simply a hologram in my private chambers.” As she spoke, the hand on her neck slid lower, though I kept my gaze on her face. “I look forward to seeing you once more prove yourself against those unworthy of my attention. The Hero of Naboo is considered a friend of the royal family, and many at court are eager to see you in person.” She looked to one side as if someone distracted her for a moment. “The Trade Federation is greatly disliked within the Outer Rim, and your actions alongside the Naboo Queen have earned you much attention from those who hold grudges with the Federation. Many have expressed interest in meeting you and discussing… opportunities that would benefit us all.”
“Whenever I visit, if time allows, I’m willing to speak with these people, but I won’t make any promises, Miraj.” The idea that elements of what would form the basis of the CIS, at least those with true grievances that hadn’t then been forced into worse situations by siding with the Separatists and thus being placed even greater under the thumb of the Federation and the other mega-corporations, was interesting. These people and worlds were friends of Zygerria, so there was a fair chance they’d have sided with the CIS to exploit the opportunities the war brought. Still, it was an avenue worth exploring, as at the very least, I’d learn names and places of targets I might not otherwise learn. “However, my focus remains on finding my Padawan, and ensuring he’s unharmed.”
“As it should be.” Miraj’s smile exposed her fangs, making clear she enjoyed the idea of how she thought I would handle the situation. “May your prey be easy to find, provide a satisfying hunt, and their deaths everything they deserve.”
I nodded, not wishing to comment on how I hoped for the same as it was unbecoming of a Jedi, which for at least a few more years, I’d remain. “Again, thank you for this, Miraj.” She offered a final nod and then the channel cut.
“How do you do it?”
I looked at Simvyl even as the computer checking the data Miraj had sent confirmed it was clean, and thus safe for HK and R2 to examine through Raven’s systems. “Huh?”
“You know damn well what I mean.” He shook his head. “Got a female on every world in the Republic.”
“Not every world,” I replied with a smirk, “just most of the ones I’ve visited.”
He grunted, and thankfully let the matter drop. As R2 rolled into the cockpit, my mind turned, wondering if I could redirect Miraj’s attention to Simvyl. I had enough attention from ladies who I wished to entertain, and I wasn’t sure if Miraj would accept a human mate, or if I was comfortable with a Zygerrian. Simvyl, as a Cathar, in theory, should be a more suitable companion for Miraj, and it wouldn’t cost me the support of either if they did become something. That, however, like everything bar Anakin, was a matter for another month.
“This better not be a wild goose chase,” I muttered as the astromech accessed the data and began adding it to our flight data.
… …
----------------------------------------
… …
“Observation: Given the location, it is likely that this cantina is lacking in many basic amenities, Master.”
“Good thing I’m not going here for food or drink,” I replied as I walked with HK toward the meeting place of the contact that had come from Miraj. Or more accurately, from a distant uncle who’d gained to from Force-knew where. “Keep your eyes open for trouble, and if I signal, enter with intent.”
“Exclamation: With pleasure.”
HK stopped, taking position near the entrance, while I walked down the short flight of stairs. The others in our party remained with Raven. For Simvyl, while he was healed from the battle with the Trandoshans, part of me still blamed him for losing Anakin, and I was reluctant to have him guard my six. Fenrir, while far more eager than the Cathar to accompany me, had remained behind as well. The presence of a tuk’ata would only invoke strong reactions from the scum that awaited me inside the cantina.
Given the height of the building, and the slightly sunken location of the door, this cantina was half-buried. As I pushed the door open, the HUD reported on the general quality of the air inside, making me glad I was in my armour. Hints of diverse types of spice, deathsticks, and a hundred other chemicals that weren’t great for one’s health, swirled in the air. The only thing going for the place was that it wasn’t Mos Eisley on Tatooine, but it wasn’t much better.
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Much of the noise in the cantina died down as I walked forward, making a beeline for the central bar area. Given I was in full beskar, it was likely most here were trying to get a read on what was probably the first Mandalorian they’d ever seen. The HUD was scanning everyone present, using the Battlenet to link to HK, and through him, Raven to check the scans against local security files.
By the time I reached the bar, the HUD had confirmed that over seventy per cent of the cantina’s patrons were wanted on various charges. Those ranged from theft and extortion to kidnapping and murder. The worst ones were marked out as potential threats, though I ignored them. Along with the whispered hints from the darker reaches of my mind and the Force that said the only thing I’d find here was trouble and death. That I’d be better off just killing everyone present.
The worst of the bunch, and the head of the local food chain, was an Ishi Tib who sat at the back of the cantina. On his lap rested a barely-clothed yellow-skinned Twi’lek female while two more of the species – one green, one blue – were massaging his shoulders. Behind the stalk-eyed alien stood four Nikto, which were a surprise to see in this sector.
The Nikto, like several other species, were bound to serve the Hutts, so the only way those four could be here was because either the Ishi Tib worked for a Hutt, or they were disgraced and expelled from Hutt Space. Regardless of which it was, the veiled suggestions of the Force said I should remove them; that like Trandoshans, Hutts deserved nothing but death.
“What’ll it be?” the Rodian behind the bar asked, but I ignored him, reading the details the HUD was providing about those I was now forced to share a room with. I had no interest in the swill they served here, nor the scum that frequented this place; though if their grubby eyes continued to stare at my armour, some seemingly thinking they could pry it from my corpse for a quick payday, I would take some pleasure in making their lives far shorter.
I pushed off the bar once the HUD located my contact; a brown-skinned Devaronian who was sitting by itself in a darkened alcove on one side of this osik-hole. A Togurta was with him, the female shifting provocatively against my target. As I moved closer, the HUD detected a burnt mark on the Togruta’s neck, partially hidden by the thin clothing she wore. The same mark was on one of the Twi’leks with the Ishi Tib, and I growled and clenched my fists as I confirmed the females were slaves.
For a moment, I considered simply taking out everyone present, sending them all to waste recycling and freeing the slaves. The voices agreed, saying the scum present didn’t deserve to even be in my presence. However, after a few short, deep breaths, I pushed those thoughts to one side. I wasn’t here to end the lives of some minor, unimportant slavers. I was here to save Anakin. Everything else, no matter how appealing, was tertiary to that.
I moved across the cantina slowly, noting the way many of the patrons reacted as I neared and then passed them. While my hand never grasped the hilt of my beskad, that and the blaster pistol on the other hip drew a lot of attention. The murmurs of the Dark Side, saying I should strike down those who arrogantly eyed my blade for themselves, grew stronger. One patron, a Weequay, stood, making me pause and slowly, fighting the urge to lash out, turn to glare at him.
The alien, who looked vaguely familiar though there was no record of him on the local security reports, lifted his hands and backed off. It seemed he, unlike the rest of the bar, had the sense to leave instead of being in my presence.
I resumed walking toward the Devaronian, the Togruta with him freezing up once she realised my path. I grunted angrily under my helmet as the alien grasped the female, preventing her from leaving. The urge to simply shoot the Devaronian, and others in this place, to free those they enslaved returned with vigour, and it was harder to push it away again; to focus entirely on my goal of finding and saving Anakin, and then butchering every Trandoshan I could find.
“I’m told you have something for me,” I said as I reached the table the alien was sitting behind.
He looked up at me, his devilish eyes scanning my armour for some hint of recognition and understanding. “Do I?” He replied, an annoying smirk dancing on his face as his grasp on the Togruta tightened, preventing her from squirming away to hide from me. His eyes settled on my beskad; the ripples of the rare metal used in its construction drew his attention with the same greedy, self-serving intentions as others in this shithole.
“You do,” I sat down, mainly to hide my struggles to stop my fingers from twitching; the voices carrying desires to exterminate this creature and others nearby grew stronger with each passing second. “From a mutual friend on Zygerria.”
The alien’s eyes widened, and he looked me over again, this time trying to correct whatever false mental picture he had of me. “Heh,” he said slowly, releasing his grasp on the Togruta,” was expecting something different.”
The Togruta stood rapidly, fear blasting from her as she scurried away. “Is that a problem?” I asked, ignoring the slave, though not the fact three Rodians behind me shifted at the commotion, the trio all grasping for their blasters.
I did my best to ignore them, to pretend the suggestions in my mind that they planned to attack me, to jump me and steal my armour, didn’t exist. Even after attempting to centre myself while we travelled to this system, I’d struggled to quieten the voices that offered obscure assurances of power, of how I could find and save Anakin if I only took control of the Force; bend it entirely to my demands.
“No, but I’d like some proof you are who I’m expecting,” the Devaronian responded, his arms shifting, the hand in his lap so I couldn’t see what exactly he was up to, though it wasn’t hard to figure out. The shabuir was reaching for a blaster, my concern that this was a setup, and fear that I was collecting a bounty on him washing over me in the Force, drowning out much of what else I could sense.
I moved one hand to my belt, the alien tensing as the digits drifted from his sight. “Relax,” I said as I opened a pouch on my belt, “if I wanted you dead, you’d already be a corpse.” Perhaps I could try being polite, but I wasn’t in the mood for niceties, and this place was wreaking havoc on my sense of control. “Does this confirm my status?” I asked, placing the hilt of my lightsaber shoto on the table.
“You could’ve taken that from the body of any Jedi,” the Devaronian replied.
I laughed loudly, making him tense and having others nearby turn sharply; spikes of concern mixing with rising tension. “I could’ve, but unless you want me to demonstrate another way to prove I’m who you’re expecting, which, I don’t recommend, I suggest you accept my proof without question.”
The Devaronian continued to stare at me, the hands in his lap shifting around, my nerves slowly fraying as they suggested that he planned to betray me, that he was of no use, growing louder. “No, that shouldn’t be needed.” One hand rose from under the table, a small datacard in its paw. “I believe this is what you’re after?”
“It better be,” I replied, the HUD scanning the card to ensure it was genuine, and not some form of hidden explosive or otherwise trapped. While the HUD reported that wasn’t the case, the murmurs changed, telling me the Devaronian planned to betray me, to not give me what he should; that I must take it from his dead, bleeding body.
“Relax my friend, none of us here wish to tangle with a Mandalorian, nor a Jedi posing as one.” I bristled at the accusation that I wasn't Mando’ade, that I’d not paid the price and carried the hunt needed to earn the armour I wore. That I was somehow unworthy to wear it.
My fingers grasped the hilt of my shoto as the desire, the need to strike down this fool and prove my worth by killing him and everyone else in the building, grew stronger; slowly threatening to overwhelm my control. “Keep your insults to yourself,” I snarled, “and give me what was promised.”
“Now, now,” he said, pulling his hand back, and taking the datacard away from me. “There’s the matter of cost.”
“I wasn’t told of any cost,” I shot back, Miraj hadn’t mentioned such a thing, yet I’d half-expected it and come prepared. Yet now, as I glared at the alien, I felt little desire to pay the fool. Not when, as if sensing my mood, most of those behind me had moved away; their flight or fight senses telling them the coming battle was one they’d not survive.
A few remained, such as the Ishi Tib and his guards, but the majority were either leaving the cantina or shifting for cover on the far side of the room. The ones that hadn’t reacted were those who carried warrants for murder or worse: the type that didn’t easily back down from a threat. As everyone tensed, sensing the danger I presented, the quiet suggestions from deep inside that told me that this was all a trap, an attempt to gain something none of them deserved, grew even louder.
“There’s always a cost, my friend. That is how this works.”
“Not this time.”
“Ah,” The Devaronian tensed, “in that case…” The arm still under the table shifted, and I was moving.
My hand thrust forward, the lightsaber igniting as I reached for him.
“WA…” The words died in his throat as the plasma burnt through his chest, piercing his heart.
I stood, my free hand, the mechanical limb, grasping the table between us and wrenching it from its secure fastening on the floor, clearing a path to the target.
With a flick of my wrist, the datacard flew to my grasp and the body of the gasping, dying alien fell to the floor. Yet, as soon as I secured the card in my hand, I stumbled forward.
Someone, the HUD identified them as a Rodian, had shot at me, the bolt crashing into my armour.
Snarling, the need to carry out pest control no longer restrained, I turned. The lightsaber came up, slapping away my new target’s next shot away, before the third was sent back at him.
The green-skinned alien stumbled back; a final expression of shock now permanently marring its face, having appeared there just before the bolt had slammed into its maw. The body crumpled to the floor even as those with him began to understand what’d happened.
Not wanting to lose my prize, I turned, shifting my body to cover the datacard as a few others opened fire. The bolts slammed into my armour, sending spikes of fury surging through me even as I secured the datacard in a pouch at my waist.
Once that was done, my hand moved, the Force reacting to my demands.
Two Rodians – tablemates of the dead one – were lifted from their feet, along with a handful of others nearby and anything not secured to the floor. The group of bodies and objects flew backwards, slamming into the wall; some with sickening crunches making clear their fate.
I blinked as everything started to fall, regaining my focus. “Fuck,” I muttered as others in the bar, at least the few not rushing for the exits, drew weapons. I understood, as time slowed around me as I readied myself for battle, that I’d lost control. The HUD confirmed the Devaronian didn’t have a blaster under the table, that he’d been reaching for a datapad and not a weapon. Yet, with the suggestions I’d been getting since nearing this place, that this was all a trap, that nothing I was doing would help save Anakin and my only choice was destruction to recover my son, assaulting my thoughts, I’d overreacted.
However, I didn’t have time to fully process my mistakes. Battle was upon me, and I could feel myself sinking into the Force, readying myself to expunge some of the anger that had been an ever-present companion since Anakin was attacked.
Before any of those stupid enough to engage a Force-wielding Mando’ade could fire, the door I’d entered through earlier exploded. Several beings were thrown back but the shockwave, they and others shredded but debris that rocketed inward.
A moment later, as my lightsaber came around and slapped aside one pitiful attack and I drew my beskad, HK stepped through the cloud of debris. His yellow optical sensors gave the cloud an eerie glow, while his blaster sang, targets already picked out by the Battlenet.
I moved toward the first fool to anger me, my lightsaber coming down, severing their arm. The scream of pain died quickly as I thrust my blade through their chest.
Pulling the blade back, blood gushed forth, and I spun, ducking low and thrusting out my arm. The next target was knocked back by the Force, their fall made permanent by HK’s accurate fire.
I turned; my rage demanded the bug-faced alien I’d seen at the back meet the fate he deserved. The muscle he had opened fire, trying pathetically to protect their master. Bolts were deflected away, or back toward the source, taking out one of the fools even as my main target pushed the slaves he’d had between me and him, denying me a clear shot.
Raging at him using others for cover, at the callous disregard for life, my hand thrust forward. Black energy surged from my fist, slamming into two of the guards. The pair were lifted and slammed into the wall by the attack, creams of pain echoed around the cantina, freezing many in place.
Those who had frozen, caught out by the display of true power, that deserved death died in a hail of blaster fire. HK mowed them and others down with ease. I stepped toward my target, the last guard falling as I threw my beskad at him; the blade pushed by the Force sailed into his chest, pinning him to the wall behind.
A furious snarl of rage erupted from me as the Ishi Tib slipped through a door, the way sealing itself behind him even as his slaves whimpered around my feet, scrambling to be clear of my path. The Force did as I demanded, and the door shuddered, bending unnaturally inward before it was blasted in, a startled shout of pain meaning I’d hit someone.
Stepping into the gap, the shoto in my hand ensured I could still see in the darkness beyond. The Hud quickly located the door I’d blasted in further down a short corridor, blood and a leg smeared over it as it lay embedded in what had to be the rear exit from the cantina the alien had planned to use to escape.
“H-help me,” he whimpered, his hand clutching feebly to slow the blood loss from where his leg had once been. I lifted my lightsaber, the yellow light bathing the alien’s face. “NO!” he screamed, bringing up his hands in a pathetic attempt to stop me. “The Jedi…”
“Aren’t going to save you,” I finished after burying my blade in his face; ending his life, and granting those wounded by his actions some measure of justice.
I stood there, the plasma of my blade sizzling as blood from the twitching body landed upon it, breathing deeply. “FUCK!” I screamed inside my helmet, understanding that I’d again lost control. That I’d fought with the dark voices inside me and lashed out. While the Ishi Tib and the others who’d died because of my anger deserved what they’d got, I was furious at myself.
After taking a few more moments to find something close to calm, I powered down the lightsaber, turned and walked back into the cantina. The place was destroyed, bodies, blood, guts, and Force-knew what other internal fluids coating the floor and walls, with few if any tables undamaged. The central bar still stood, but every glass shattered, and mugs strewn everywhere.
I pulled my beskad from the body I’d impaled with it, the Nikto slumping to the floor, a weak groan escaping its lips telling me it hadn’t yet expired.
“Get out,” I growled to the few beings still alive in the place. Outside of the slaves and staff, few of the patrons who’d not left when I’d entered were able to leave. The rest were dead, the only people who’d complain about the mess being the poor sods sent to identify the bodies and then cleanse the building.
“Observation: While I am grateful for the outlet to further enhance my calibrations, I do hope you secured the data you needed, Master.”
I reached into my pouch, pulling out the datacard. “Shab!” I snarled, seeing it was bent. A groan from one body on the ground provided a vent for the new burst of rage as I kicked their face in. “Damnit,” I grunted and shook my head. “Think R2 can salvage anything from this?”
“Answer: Possibly, though he isn’t designed for such tasks the astromech is remarkably skilful when motivated.”
“Ugh.” I shook my head and moved toward the exit, enraged at myself for my actions. I’d lost control, lashed out, and possibly cost myself what information the Devaronian had that could lead the way to Anakin. “Son of a bitch,” I added, stepping out into the cool, night air of the planet.
In the distance I could hear sirens, suggesting whatever passed for law enforcement in this city had been alerted to the commotion and was on their way.
“Assessment: Might I suggest we vacate the location, Master? Unless you wish to test our skill against the local security forces.”
“I think we’ve had enough fun for one day.” My reply was meant to be jovial, but there was no humour in my tone. The only feelings I had were anger at myself, and fear for what my loss of control might cost Anakin.
Looking upward, I reached out into the Force. Anakin was still alive, but far from this world. Given we’d had to travel two sectors away from our search grid for the meeting, that wasn’t a surprise. Still, not sensing any distress, or at least nothing new to suggest he was now being hunted, eased some of my turmoil.
I had a problem, and until I gained control of it, I was a liability. One that, if it caused Anakin to be hurt – permanently or temporarily, mentally, or physically – I’d never forgive myself for. I’d spent the last few days considering Adas’ offer to train me to master the Force around me, instead of fighting and denying that the dangerous impulses I heard and felt came from anywhere but myself. I could see that, unless I submitted myself for full retraining by the Jedi, or turned to the Banite Sith for help – neither of which was ever going to happen – then I had to accept his teaching. I just hoped that it didn’t cost me everything I had, and everything I wanted to do, to learn at the Sith King’s feet.
“Come on. We need to give this to R2 and hope it’ll lead us to those walking lizards.”
“Hu-hmm.” I spun at the unexpected sound, cursing myself for getting lost in my thoughts and not seeing the HUD and Force alerting me to the nearby Weequay. That it was the same one that had been the first to leave the cantina when I’d entered did little to settle that annoyance. “If by walking lizards, you mean Trandoshans, I might be of some help. For a fee of course.”
I looked at the pathetic alien, wondering what he hoped for, beyond a few quick credits. My hand slipped to my beskad. The Weequay stepped back, hands rising frantically to show he wasn’t a threat.
“Wait! WAIT!” It mewed distressingly. “I’m not trying to cheat you!”
My mouth opened, readying to throw an insult toward it, only for the sound to die in my throat. As unexpected as it was, I felt the Force shifting around me; almost as if it were suggesting I should hear out this feeble alien. “You’d better not be,” I said, staying my instinct to exterminate the alien.
“I’m not. I’m not.” The alien straightened, understanding it wasn’t about to die, and patted down the rags that passed for clothing.
“Query: How are you acquainted with Trandoshans, meatbag?”
The Weequay blinked, uncertain of how to respond to HK’s question, before replying to me. “I’m aware, through sources, of several groups that have operations in this and several sectors nearby. Some are bounty hunters, some are slavers, and others use the worlds they frequent to train their younglings. It depends on which groups you’re interested in.”
“Initially, just those who use the children of other races to train their young. If, however, your information proves useful, then I’d be interested in the other groups as well.”
“And your reason for seeking such a group of Trandoshans?”
“A personal matter.” There was no chance I’d be telling some random street Weequay about what had happened with Anakin.
“Ah, yes, yes. Your business is your business. Just as mine is mine.” It chuckled as if finding something funny in its words. “All that matters is the price of information, which depends on supply and demand.”
“And on who has the more pressing need for the information,” I added, my hand tapping against the blade of the beskad, drawing the alien’s attention to the blood still dripping down the blade, slowly pooling at my feet.
“Ah, yes. An accurate assessment.” The Weequay looked around before gesturing for us to resume walking, this time with him at our side. “Now, before we discuss terms, which since the security forces are getting closer, I would recommend we do so far from here, perhaps we might introduce ourselves.” He turned as we walked, offering me a wide smile. “Hondo Ohnaka at your service.”