The familiar blue hue of hyperspace surrounded Laren Uscot in the cockpit of his Aethersprite-class fighter. The Pantoran mercenary traveled in silence, manning the controls of his small starship with a practiced ease. Outside of the cabin to the port side, his droid R3-F1 was still, its cylindrical black upper components and visual apparatus facing the bow of the ship. Ultimately it was the droid managing the finer aspects of their present journey, and it was the droid who had plotted the course that set them on the hunt.
“R3, do you think we’ll even find this guy here?” Laren asked idly. Then he sighed. The droid would not answer. He had forbade it to speak earlier, lashing out in frustration as the chase continued.
Since his first days in the Brotherhood, he had found a massive spike in potential clients with connections to powerful individuals - also members of this same, divided order of Sith and their nefarious cohorts. They were often draped in wide cloaks and cowls, and using voice scramblers or the Force to hide their identities. Of course, it didn’t necessarily hide their motives. Most times Laren didn’t care who it was or what they needed, anyway. The chance to kill Sith - or Jedi, his preferred targets - was always a welcome opportunity. It allowed him to test his skills against enemies that became arrogant using their own enhanced abilities. As Laren knew well enough, all it took was one well placed blaster bolt or a dagger in the back to end a life. The Force types tended to forget that until it was too late.
But this time, the target was like him: a non-Force sensitive. Commander Rhylance, the dossier had named him. An accomplished medical practitioner, scientist extraordinaire, and essentially a genius. No, not essentially. The man was exceptionally bright, even among some of the most intelligent minds in the galaxy. Anyone who had the capability to rise into leadership among powerful users of the Dark Side of the Force was exceptionally dangerous, too. And, Laren hoped, excellent prey.
The reports and information that had been provided to him by his client hinted that the doctor was making quiet visits to various worlds pursuing less than legal research projects. Though Laren had not yet caught the roaming Chiss scientist, he had been following the trail closely. It seemed the next destination was Naboo, of all places. And not to the surface world, but Otoh Gunga itself, the capital of those wretched sea creatures called Gungans. It appeared that Rhylance had conducted some personal research into the use of plasma for simultaneous medical and militaristic purposes, something that these beings were adept in using, considering the high abundance of plasmic matter on their home planet. At least, that’s what the dossier had said. Laren was no scientist. Regardless, Laren was to track him down, and at the least he was to intercept Rhylance and disrupt his activities. If possible, he was to kill the man on sight. That is if he could bloody well find the man. Naboo was just the next stop on his supposed journeys.
The primary console beeped, suddenly, scrolling blue letters in galactic Basic passing over the screen. It was R3.
We’re approaching Naboo, it read simply.
“Excellent,” Laren replied eagerly, rubbing his hands together. “Once we’re out of hyperdrive, I’ll take us into Naboo proper. Our client set us up a private landing pad. Once we’re there, you’ll stay with the ship and - well, and I’m going for a swim.”
I didn’t know you could swim.
“That’s enough out of you,” Laren quipped.
Besides, you are traveling by bongo, the Gungan submersible craft. According to my calculations, your head would explode otherwise.
Laren shook his head. He was always amazed at the personality of his droid. Sarcastic and a mood killer, of all bloody things. Thank the frozen hells the bucket of bolts wasn’t programmed with any murderous tendencies. He shivered even thinking about the rare nightmares of R3 zapping him into a painful death, beeping maliciously over his writhing body. Could a droid beep maliciously?
Under Laren’s control, the fighter exited hyperspace and transitioned into real space, the ion engines of the craft beginning to propel it at sublight speeds. The planet Naboo slowly grew from a small green dot in the endless void into a gargantuan, green expanse that filled his vision. It was only a few moments before it would enter the atmosphere, he concluded. After touching a few controls, the ship had been prepared for atmospheric entry. It flew gracefully downward, a combination of deflector shields and a precise course provided by R3 guaranteeing Laren was not rumbling about in the pilot’s seat. It was a smooth ride, contrary to some of his more recent missions.
“This better be smooth. By the frozen hells, if it isn’t, I may just start another war.”
Some minutes later, the ship set down on a coastal landing pad on the edge of Theed. After bidding R3 farewell and gathering his gear, he made his way on foot down to the water’s edge. A vast expanse of docks occupied by a wide array of water-faring craft were moored, most a hub of activity, especially trade. Was all of it legal, however, Laren did not know. Farther afield at the southern edge of the docks, a peculiar vessel was also tethered, a lone Gungan female inside. With a slight grin, he made his way to the craft and greeted its driver.
“Yousa be the one?” She called to him as he approached. She was armed, he realized, a blaster at her hip. And based on her cool expression, he didn’t doubt that she knew how to use it.
“I am.”
The Gungan woman eyed him up and down for a moment, unconsciously placing hands on narrow hips. After a moment she nodded as if in approval and took her seat, motioning with her hand for him to enter the vessel. He complied, taking a seat in the rear.
“I’ll be honest, I didn’t know Gungans got up to any sort of, dare I say, criminal enterprise.”
“Yousa be surprised, off-worlder. Wesa be a weird,” she dragged the word out for a few seconds before continuing, “And unsuspecting people. So, yousa be going to the agreed spot?”
“Sure am.”
She shook her head incredulously. “Yousa be crazy, off-worlder. Wesa Gungans will notice you, yes."
“I’ll be fine. It seems you Gungans associate a bit more with the outside, these days.”
“Yousa off-worlders,” she mused, shaking her head. “Back just after the days of Boss Nass, Otoh Gunga was a proud place for Gungans. Now you all come in with your credits and your ideas and your wars. Itsa be a good thing the Empire is gone, yes, but wesa just want to live in peace." Laren couldn't help but to snort at that comment. She says live in peace but carries a blaster and works for criminals. She went on. "...and then it may all blow up in -"
“Not to be rude,” Laren interrupted, “But I’m on a bit of a tight schedule.” He attempted to keep his budding frustration hidden, though he knew his tone was tight with barely concealed annoyance.
To his surprise, she complied. Setting about operating her console, the first commands she entered commanded the glass-like window of the compartment to be sealed shut. Moments later they were moving. The bongo drifted away from the dock, and soon after any sign of the surface world was concealed by an endless domain of water. Silence permeated their small compartment, and not another word passed between the two, leaving him to his own thoughts.
Now that he truly thought of it, he was going to an underwater city. An entire settlement, thousands - no, millions of people that all lived under water! Sure, they were an amphibious species, but even so, he found it to be nothing short of madness. And he was going to be there, taking a contract. Perhaps he hadn’t thought this whole thing through.
Forcing himself to quiet his mind, he set to checking over his equipment as the tribubble bongo made the journey deeper and deeper into the murky depths.
The journey through the planet’s core was, according to his Gungan companion, rather boring in comparison to most. It wasn’t often that this obscure route was used, mainly due to the fact that ultra giant sea creatures or other monstrous things were constantly on the hunt. They participated in an endless battle among themselves that resulted in ripped limbs, ended lives, and a healthy snack among those still living. His driver had called it natural selection, something Laren had read about in a book once. Some scientific thing he had little time for. There had been a few instances where these blasted creatures had even given chase, only to be caught in the trap of another, larger beast. Laren was embarrassed to remember that he had let out a high pitch scream during their last encounter, though the driver seemed unphased by it. How many off-worlders had reacted similarly, he wondered? Was it common occurrence to be scared half to death and scream with all your might? Perhaps she remained silence to allow him some remainder of pride. Or more likely, she just didn't care one way or another.
Blackened darkness suddenly took on a lighter, blue hue. The bongo exited a deep cavern and entered open water again. Looking out the window, Laren could see a large, floating mass in the distance. It glowed bronze and blue in the deep, and looked to be in the shape of numerous sphere shaped pieces connected by narrow lines. The Gungan capital lay ahead.
“Wesa be close, off-worlder. Yousa will be let off near the City Bigspace.” She looked back at him, grinning. “Yousa be killing, today?”
Laren shrugged, now pawing at the holstered hand blaster on his hip. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
“Yousa be careful of those patrols, then. And if yousa see one of us named Yem Jin, feel free to blast his brains.”
The mercenary gazed at the Gungan woman with eyes the shape of narrow slits, studying her. She was ruthless, this one. But an offer was an offer. And unlike some, he wasn't interested in why she demanded it of him.
“At what price?”
“Instead of a one way trip, yousa will find me waiting.” Laren already had an escape route, an entire plan that he had rehearsed for days before. Changing it now would not be ideal, though he had improvised in the past. In fact, it was his specialty.
“You have yourself a deal, uhh -”
“Jem Col,” she said, out-stretching her hand behind her while she navigated the bongo into a force-fielded docking port.
Laren didn’t reciprocate the handshake. His focus was solely on observing his surroundings. The bay was small, made just wide enough for a bongo type craft to dock and depart again. At the far end of the sectioned room, an open space led into a narrow walkway. Beyond he saw the City Bigspace, the urban area of Otoh Gunga, and ultimately the place he needed to be.
Once the hatch of the cockpit swung open, Laren sprung out. Taking a moment to stretch his limbs, he made sure one last time that his equipment was in check. Gungan patrols, Gungan citizens, and my brother in blue. Piece of pie. He turned, then, smiling at Jem Col dangerously.
“Thanks for the ride, Jem. No idea when I’ll be back.”
Without waiting for a response, he raised the cowl of his cloak and sprang into motion. He ran with the sleek grace of a trained assassin, his footfalls quick and making little noise. Once in the walkway he passed a few Gungan citizens, though none looked at an oddly dressed offworlder. Being so near to the City Bigspace, one of the largest areas of Otoh Gunga, meant that many foreign species were common - well, as common as visitors not Gungan were to their expansive capital. Some stopped to comment on his running, muttering about the rude manners of off-worlders or sputtering about his odd clothing. Yet none noticed the blaster holstered at his hip or the one slung on his back, hidden by the Armorweave cloak that he donned. Just some wild off-worlder, nothing of too much consequence. Besides, Laren concluded, if word spread of a blue-skinned man running amok in Otoh Gunga, he was sure his mission would be over by then and he would be making his escape. He hoped.
Once reaching the broad, urban area that was the City Bigspace he slowed to a walk, blending with the crowd traversing among the tall, cylindrically shaped buildings, some of which nearly brushed the shimmering force field above. His first objective was to reach high ground, in this case a building. A classic soldiering trope, to be sure, but useful in this case. The location would allow Laren to look down upon the streets below, and he would hopefully be able to spot Rhylance before he entered the laboratory. Laren had planned to use his grappling hook to swing down and catch the man off balance. Before he could use that big brain of his, Laren will have left a scorch mark where the doctor’s brains had been, leaving a smoky cadaver to fall limply to the ground. Though if things didn’t go as planned, he wouldn’t mind. He was in his element working by instinct and on the fly. Usually.
The journey took perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes, the Pantoran flowing with the crowd as he made his way toward the target location. Passing by numerous hawkers attempting to flaunt their wares and bumbling storefronts, Laren was surprised to see a few of his own people among the mass of Gungans and off-worlders. He avoided their eyes, using his hood to full effect and covering all but his scarred chin in shadow. Other peculiar beings briefly caught his eye; a pair of Duros were attempting to barter with a rather fat Gungan mechanic, speaking a dialect of Huttese - Huttese, of all things! - that he could barely understand. More and more foreign species could be seen engaging in trade or idle conversation, comfortable with their surroundings. To Laren’s surprise, an Ithorian passed through the crowd without incident, many of the Gungans respectfully parting the crowd for it. Otoh Gunga and the Gungan government had certainly relaxed the secrecy surrounding their proud capital compared to the days long past, or so the holobooks had said.
Finally he arrived at the door. Though he had studied the maps of Otoh Gunga extensively, his client had taken precautions. On the quaint entrance of the tall structure, a black lotus flower had been scribbled nearest the console on the wall to confirm it was the place. An odd choice, that flower. It tickled Laren’s memory for some reason.
Using the console, Laren input a provided code. The door swooshed open, the drawn flora on the durasteel entrance now hidden away in its crevice. Stepping through, he found a staircase at the far end of the bare room. He bounded for the stairs, the door closing behind him. He climbed the stairs floor by floor, reaching the top a few minutes later. Passing through another automatic door onto the roof, he dropped onto his belly. Best not to be seen by any prying eyes. He crawled to the ledge overlooking the street Rhylance was supposed to take, ready to scan carefully and wait for his arrival.
The breath in his chest caught unexpectedly. Below and to his left, maybe a hundred or so metres away, was the Chiss himself. He was wearing a hideous black uniform reminiscent of the Imperials or those blasted First Order types, though many would likely consider it a symbol of authority. Both the tunic and pants were trimmed with red, and a symbol and some additional embroidery in the same color could be seen adorning his chest and shoulders. From this distance he couldn’t make out the finer details, though Laren suspected it was of some personal or professional value to be seen in the distinct garnet coloring. He walked with the purposeful stride of someone exuding command, and many Gungans instinctively moved out of his way.
“He wasn’t supposed to be here for another fifteen minutes or so,” Laren muttered, not realizing he had spoken the words aloud. He only spoke to himself when he was flustered, which he certainly was now.
He had to move. There was no time. If he was to kill the man, it couldn’t be in a building likely filled with numerous security devices and other traps to deal with unwanted intruders. He had to take Rhylance on neutral ground, even if it was minutes earlier than he had expected.
Standing suddenly, Laren fired his grappling hook at the roof opposite, tugging on the rope until he was sure it was latched on tight. Taking out his hand blaster, Laren took one last look down at the street at the Consul so calmly walking and not noticing the Pantoran above. Not noticing the man about to reign death down upon him.
As Laren began his descent, a dreadful thought occupied his conscious. Even as the first beads of plasma erupted from the muzzle of his hand blaster, he thought again of the doctor below. The man is a glorified genius. He saw the doctor barely sidestep the impacts, a look of feigned fear placating his once handsome features. Laren suspected it was an act even as he hit ground, barrel rolling and looking up at the doctor a few metres away. Had Rhylance expected him?
“Greetings, doc,” Laren sneered, attempting to hide his own fear. Was his plan about to crash down around him?
“I - I don’t know what you want,” the Chiss began, his voice a hesitant, thick baritone, slightly commanding even when pressed by anxiety and adrenaline. He stepped forward. “I can give you credits, lots of credits, even!”
He was perhaps a metre away, now, too close. Laren raised his blaster.
The Chiss smiled, though it didn’t touch his crimson eyes. Scalpels were in his hands barely before Laren could react, and Rhylance rushed forward, slashing with adept efficiency. Laren didn’t even have a chance to release a blaster bolt, instead focusing on not letting the doctor rip him to shreds. He continued to backpedal, at one point using the hand grip of his blaster to deflect a scalpel an inch from his abdomen. He was doing his best to avoid the doctor’s well placed attacks that, though falling short of cutting flesh, continued to keep his blaster hand occupied or off target.
Suddenly, Laren bumped into a fleshy form behind him. The mass - a Gungan, it seemed - howled as it toppled to the ground, Laren falling backwards with it. As he fell, he saw Rhylance turn and run, scalpels now hidden again somewhere on his person.
“Not so fast, doctor!” Laren roared angrily. “I have an appointment with you yet!”
With a snarl, Laren pushed himself onto two steady feet and began to pursue the doctor. Though he was angry, Laren also felt alive. Sweat began to slick his forehead, and his heart beat ferociously. Rhylance was going to be worthy prey. The chase was on.
