Tatooine
Music played, occasional shots rang out, and the pirate gang felt like the new masters. Whispers were heard as local smugglers discussed recent events. A group of Mandalorians had occupied Tatooine and called it their own, but several days had passed, and the pirates continued their lawlessness with impunity.
During these few days, no one felt safe; bandits could enter any house and take whatever they wanted. The Mandalorians on the planet were too few, but it was because of them that the pirates did not dare to cross the line. An invisible boundary stretched between the bandits and the Black Mandalorians, which neither side crossed. The former feared the reaction of the latter and did not go beyond the line, limiting themselves to money or other belongings. The latter closed their eyes to this, remaining silent on the sidelines.
Right in Chalmun's Cantina sat two protectors. In recent days, no one had seen these withdrawn warriors say so much as a word. They radiated something evil and frightening, which was why few dared to approach them.
At a nearby table, the commander of the pirate group was relaxing with his officers.
"And yet, it's such a shame there are no women here," the man lamented.
"That can't be."
"It can. I've walked the whole city. Not a single pub. Can you imagine?"
"Amusing," the captain hummed and downed the contents of his glass in one gulp. "Ha. Why don't you hit on the locals?"
"It doesn't work. They shy away from our guys like fire, and I can't reach an agreement. They refuse."
"Frey, why are you acting like a brat? Just take."
"Yeah... Try taking here," the man glanced at the table with the Mandalorians. "No, guys, maybe these types are silent, but I don't want to test their patience."
"Pfft. As if they'll do anything. We have the city under control, this is our planet! Do you hear me?"
"I hear you..."
This "I hear you" had been said more than once. Many acted brave, starting conversations about who was boss here, but not a single alien had dared to raise their voice against a Mandalorian. It seemed they didn't argue, didn't act aggressive, and didn't attract attention at all, but everyone had that internal, underlying sense of anxiety that held them back. Well, those whose sense failed them were already lying in the infirmary.
But suddenly, the pair of Mandalorians behaved strangely. Enlivened, they rose from the table and split up. One of them went to the officers' table, the second to the assault group huddled on the side.
"What do you want?"
The Mandalorian did not answer. With a calm motion, he placed a grenade on the table. The gesture was so simple and natural that no one even realized the grenade was active. And then—an explosion boomed. The flash blinded the aliens, and chaos burst into the room.
The Mandalorian shot four with needles hidden in his gauntlet, and pierced the heads of two more Trandoshans with blades fired from his bracers. A bolt clicked, a barrel extended, and with his other hand, the Mandalorian shot two more with a built-in blaster. Drawing a vibro-knife with his left hand and a pistol with his right, he fired a couple more shots at the stunned patrons and held the knife to the pirate commander's throat.
At the same time, his partner burned an entire table with a flamethrower, kicked over a second one along with the aliens sitting at it, and immediately shot them with a blaster built into his other arm. Pivoting his torso, the Black Mandalorian drew his rifle and, after firing several shots in automatic mode over the heads of the other patrons, shouted loudly:
"Everyone on the floor now, hands behind your heads!"
And to make it sink in faster, he fired another series of shots, selectively killing several pirates. He didn't have to repeat himself; the people tumbled onto the floor in disarray.
"What... What are you doing?!" the man with the knife at his throat exclaimed, blinking his eyes clear.
"Our job."
The last thing the pirate commander saw was a fist flying into his face.
Shade Aero
Having warned our people on the planet about the upcoming fight, we began the operation:
"Forward, forward, forward, forward!" the command rang out, and the drop troops poured from the ships, rushing toward the sandy planet.
The landing itself took place outside Mos Eisley. The decision was made to move in quietly, quickly, and carefully, gradually taking control of the city and thereby neutralizing the enemy's numerical advantage. Over the past few days, the pirates had relaxed; we would play on that.
Upon landing, the Mandalorians split into small groups of three or four fighters and headed toward the city in a sort of line. Since there were too few of us, the decision was made to conduct a systematic sweep from one side.
Observing the warriors closing in rapidly on the city, I separated from them and moved forward. Deploying Force sight, I searched for targets. Separating the pirates from the rest of the rabble turned out to be easier than I thought. Even without resorting to emotions, by appearance alone, the gang was distinguished by some kind of uniform. Well, yeah, you have to distinguish friend from foe in a scuffle.
Walking down the street, I noticed the first stray curs, who were quite merry. Passing nearby, I met their gaze and, once I had passed and ensured there were no extra eyes, I broke the invaders' necks, after which the whole group lay in the alley.
The next targets were less drunken assholes harassing a Twi'lek girl, asking her to dance for them. One of ours was nearby; judging by the marks on his helmet, it was Tron. The man was following the last order and, quite politely as far as possible for a Mandalorian, was trying to defuse the situation, including with money, but the bandits would not let up.
It so happened that another group was nearby, watching and laughing. Rushing toward them, I activated my saber and, with a sharp lunge and a single swing, cut through five of them, impaling another on the blade and pulling him toward me. Noticing this, Tron reacted instantly.
Drawing his knives, the man pierced the first Zabrak's chin and the second Squib's crown. He knocked the last one down with a kick and immediately finished him with a strike to the temple.
"Tron."
"Sorcerer. Glad you're here already."
"Run home, dear. It will all be over soon," I addressed the girl, boosting her morale with the Force. The Twi'lek nodded actively, squeaked something in gratitude, and immediately ran down the street toward home. "Tron, do you know where these characters like to huddle?"
"Cantinas," he shrugged. "Dis and Kaut are in Chalmun's right now; the leader of these guys is there too," he nodded at the bodies being dragged across the sand. "There are none of ours in Lovekrut, but there are just as many of them there."
"Meet up with our people; they'll be arriving shortly. I'm going to Lovekrut."
"Copy that."
By the time I reached the cantina, I encountered several more loitering groups. There were plenty of loners too, but they disappeared even faster. Along the way, I even crossed paths with one of our squads. The Mandalorians were acting very cleverly, sending one ahead for constant reconnaissance and clearing the rear on his command.
So, right before my eyes, a pair of ours quickly and effectively cut down a small squad bothering shopkeepers. Right on the street, the bastards picked on the traders; a pair of Mandalorians approached them from behind. The pirates thought they were going to be paid again, or someone would try to calm them down, but instead of money, they were simply butchered. The onlookers were frightened, but preferred to disperse quietly, realizing what was happening on the streets.
Reaching the cantina, I entered the two-story bar. Right... how had the locals not run out of booze yet? The entire bar was packed to the gills with scum; you could just tear down the whole building.
Passing by the reveling pirates, I addressed the bartender:
"Turn the music up."
The Nautolan nodded and cranked the speaker volume to maximum, drawing disapproval from the crowd, saying it was too loud. Turning around, I leaned against the bar and, identifying every target in the bar, began to slowly clench my fist. The Force pressure descending on the room could be felt on the skin. People began to suffocate and fall, but besides organics, there were also droids here.
Those I hadn't noticed in the mess. The activated machines immediately identified the source of the threat, but as soon as they aimed their weapons at me, the machines turned into a crumpled ball of scrap metal.
A shot boomed somewhere, someone tried to call for their own, but it was all useless. When everyone was already lying on the floor, I gestured for the bartender to turn the sound back down.
"Were there any outsiders in the cantina?"
A shake of the head.
"Are you sure?"
A nod.
"Splendid."
Slapping the table, I finished the job, finally laying the unconscious bodies to rest. Leaving the cantina, I estimated the path to Chalmun's, but it was not to be. A series of shots rang out, then another and another.
"Hm... Attention everyone, move to Plan B," I gave the order immediately and, hearing confirmation, rushed toward Chalmun's.
The city immediately glowed with new colors; all frequencies began to be jammed, causing communication to cut out completely. To avoid winding through the streets, I jumped onto the roof and ran straight. I needed the officer corps alive. I needed answers, and I very much hoped to be in time.
But I couldn't get there very quickly; I had to be distracted by the bandits I encountered. Since there was no point in being polite with them anymore, I struck crudely and powerfully. When I reached Chalmun's, I was pleasantly surprised; the guys had already taken full control of the cantina.
Ensuring my presence wasn't required here, I left the guys on guard and returned to the sweep myself. Or rather, I intended to return, but it turned out the pirates ran out very quickly. When the scuffle started, they began running out themselves, which made a huge portion of our work easier. It's harder to find them than to eliminate them.
So my presence was no longer really required.
***
Having restored order in the streets, calmed the people, and landed the cruiser, I finally took on the pirate commander. However, there were minor problems with a place for interrogation. We simply didn't have enough room for all the prisoners, so we had to stuff them wherever we could.
For this same reason, we decided not to drag the Duros anywhere and have a heart-to-heart right in the cantina.
Seating the still-unconscious alien at the table, I sat opposite him. Nerra, Dis, and Kaut stood nearby.
"Bring him around."
Stepping forward, Dis slapped the Duros and gave him a whiff of Tibanna. The chemical reagent has a very sharp, specific smell, from which the Duros woke up abruptly and began coughing. With swollen eyes, the alien surveyed our group.
"You..."
"Good morning," I nodded.
"You're dead men!"
"Yes, yes, we all die eventually, but before you start throwing curses, just know: We have your cruiser. Your people are mostly dead; there are survivors, but not that many. And your life—though I'd worry more about death—is in our hands. So I strongly recommend thinking before you say anything, and how you say it."
"Scum... I was promised a business proposal! What about your unbreakable code of honor? What about the Mandalorian creed?!"
"Now, now, I'll ask you to refrain from such statements. The code has been observed. We just haven't reached the proposal yet. You were promised a proposal you couldn't refuse, right? Right. And it sounds like this—cooperation in exchange for your life. How could anyone refuse that?"
"B-bitches. Ur..."
Thump! The alien's forehead met the table.
"Cough-cough... ptooie!"
"I'll take that as a yes."
"Go to hell!"
"And I say—agreed," I applied a bit of Force pressure.
"I'm a Duros, idiot," the alien jerked his head gloomily. "Those Jedi tricks of yours don't work on me!"
"Jedi? No, no, not a Jedi at all. I am much more terrifying than any Jedi," rising, I walked around the table and sat in front of him. "And, believe me, I can make it so that you dream of death."
"R... You don't understand what you're getting into, Mandalorian. Or who you're messing with."
"Then explain it."
The Duros did not answer. It was clear he was about to say something, but he shut up and looked away.
"I don't need your money, nor you; I need answers."
"You won't get them. Whether you kill me or not, what's the difference?"
"Oh, really?!" I hummed. "How about this?"
I crushed the Duros's left hand with the Force. Slowly the pressure mounted; the squelch of flesh and the crunch of bone could be heard.
"You know..."
"Aaaaaah!"
"...it seems to me that the Force works on you exactly the same as on everyone else."
"Aaaaaah!!!"
"I don't need to get into your head to find the answers."
"Haphhhhh," the alien wheezed in pain.
"As I said, I'm not a Jedi. I'm generally not a humane person and very nervous. So..." placing my hand on his shoulder, I sent the Force through his body. The Duros's veins began to burn, his nerve endings were stimulated, and the pirate thrashed in agony.
"E... enough!"
"Already?"
"Y-yes!"
"Hm, well then," releasing the pressure, I looked at what the alien's left hand had become. As if it had been put under a meat press. "So, the question is the same—who do you work for?"
"For myself!"
"Yes, yes, and who else? Don't make a fool of me, pal; there aren't many gangs in the Outer Rim that cruise in a combat cruiser, especially with numbers like yours," with that, I began to crush his other hand.
Clenching his teeth, the Duros was in no hurry to answer, preferring to endure the pain. Having broken the second hand, I moved higher, turning the arm inside out. A tough nut, and his mind was strong; despite everything, he wasn't about to pass out. Remarkable...
Releasing the pressure, I looked at the pirate in a new way.
"Shade, will he break?"
"I don't know."
Suddenly, a light breeze ran through the room, making everyone shiver except me and the Duros.
"You think so?" I asked into the void, taking my mother's mask from my belt. There was no answer, but I felt how Mom wanted to help and was offering her services. "Well, try it."
Lifting the Duros's head, I placed the mask in front of him.
"What... What are you doing?"
"Showing you what a cool thing I have. This is my mother's mask. Check it out," I nodded at the artifact. The Duros cast a sideways glance and couldn't look away.
The alien looked into the eye sockets as if mesmerized, broke out in a sweat, and then began to mutter:
"No... no... no..."
The muttering turned into hysteria, and the Duros thrashed in a fit. He screamed, banged his head against the table to such an extent that it seemed he would break his forehead, shouted about pain, about it going away. I even had to hold him so he wouldn't kill himself ahead of time.
"Shade, what's wrong with him?" Nerra approached me.
"Oh, nothing special. Mom's just rested and decided to help me a bit."
"Mom?"
"Her spirit is in the mask."
"Really?!"
"Aaaaaaaah!!!"
Instead of answering, I nodded at the Duros.
"And... what is she doing?"
"No idea, I haven't died yet."
"Ah... Alright then."
"Aaaaaaaaykes!!! (Pykes)" a word was heard through the scream.
"Ay what?" I leaned in.
"Hutts, I work for the Hutts!" the Duros said more clearly, breathing heavily.
"That doesn't quite sound right. Don't you think?" I clarified with the Mandalorians, to which a snort and a hum were heard. "That's what I thought too."
"Pykes! Pykeeees!!!"
"Pykes? As in the 'Pyke Syndicate'?"
"Yeeeees!"
"What are they doing here?"
"I'll tell you everything, just take that thing away from me!!!"
Taking the mask in my hand, I put it aside.
"Well?"
"The Pykes... they hired us from the Hutts. I and my team work for the Hutts; we were part of the free raider forces, but the Pykes came. I don't know why they were interested in you; we were ordered to raid you and apply pressure, taking the money. The proceeds were supposed to be split between the Pykes and the Hutts. A percentage to the Pykes for the lead, to the Hutts for us."
"Looks like they decided to probe us," Nerra intervened.
"An idiot could see that, but why now?" Dis looked at his friend.
"Quiet," I silenced everyone. "Do you know why the Hutts agreed to this proposal?"
"It's just profitable. No protection, there's money, why not take it?"
"Something tells me your masters aren't such idiots to just believe the Pykes like that."
"I don't know the details; I just follow orders!"
"Tch..."
Leaving the Duros to recover, I spun my mother's mask in my hand. Pykes... Pykes... what did they want from me? Why did they start moving exactly now? Why... and the Hutts too... Wait.
"Nerra, the Pykes deal in drugs, right?"
"Yes. Why?"
I didn't answer. The gears in my head turned, and the picture immediately fell into place. I wanted to swear, but I suppressed the urge. Damned Pykes... and how it all coincided, eh? I already thought the Kessel events were over, but no, it's echoing to this day! For how does it turn out? The Pykes were watching their colleagues from Black Sun who were developing spice on Kessel, and when we made a noise there, they took note of us. Then the purchase of a huge shipment of medical supplies, which means we have a lot of money. And now add to that the rapidly developing infrastructure of Tatooine. The Pykes aren't fools; they started probing the ground and looking for who was protecting this business, but apparently, they didn't find anyone. And if so, why not reach out themselves? I remember only recently I was bending Warren's ear on the subject of drugs and their distribution on Tatooine. The movement started very opportunely. When the trial run failed, they decided to act more insolently. They made a deal with the right people and sent a squad to check the ground. Scum.
And the Hutts are no better. They've been eyeing Tatooine for a long time, seeing the changes, evaluating. It's not in their interest to quarrel with the Mandalorians, and here, if anything, they aren't involved, as they simply rented out their ship and crew to the syndicate. Ugh, slugs, I'll get to you.
Returning to the real world, I looked at the Duros:
"Who do you work for? Specifically, who is your master?"
"Gardulla the Hutt. Now do you understand what kind of hole you're in? They won't let this slide..."
"Tch," satisfied with the answer, I snapped the alien's neck. "All living pirates under the knife, repaint the cruiser and overwrite the identifier, immediately!"
Kaut immediately rushed out of the cantina.
"Oh..." taking off my helmet, I rubbed the bridge of my nose.
"Shade, what's happening?"
"Nothing new, more problems, but this time in the person of the Pykes. Nerra, gather our people, warn them about the contract extension, and also about possible new visitors. Also, pick out mercenaries who can handle space combat; I need control of space."
"Understood."
"And tell your brother to think about planetary defense. If we aren't flying, then no one is!"
The girl nodded and, putting on her helmet, vanished through the door.
"Zero, send a message to Derick about paying the Mandalorians their money and let him offer a contract to extend their service with us for at least a month."
"Beep," the droid responded, blinking its sensor.
"And also, put me through to Talia. Dis," while the call was going through, I addressed the Mandalorian, "please prepare my ship for departure; you're flying with me as a bodyguard."
"Where are we flying?"
"To Corellia; the Jedi are waiting for me there impatiently."
"Maybe take Zer too?"
"No, he's needed here. Oh, call Tron to me; I have a special assignment for him."
"Right away."
The hologram lit up, and a sleepy Talia appeared, rubbing her eyes. I actually thawed a bit from such cuteness.
"Wa-a-ah... Boss?"
"Talia, good morning."
"It's one in the morning!" the girl protested.
"Are you still there?"
"Yes."
"What about the papers?"
"Basically, everything is ready."
"Is your presence needed?"
"Nope."
"Then fly to Corellia immediately."
"Eh..." the girl slumped. I actually felt like a villain, oppressing an innocent child.
"Yes, dear, I perfectly understand you, but it's necessary."
"And what will I need to do there?"
"Nothing there; we'll just cross paths there and then you'll fly with me. I want to let you in on some details of my overall plan."
"Can we not? I'm not bored as it is."
"It's necessary, dear. I need you."
"Eh... I'm flyyyyyying..." the cutie yawned. "...out. I'll just take a couple of guys with me."
"Oh! You found assistants?"
"With your assignments—there's no way without them," the wonder grumbled.
"Sorry."
"Oh, what's that in your background?"
"Where?"
"Well, there. Um... a Duros?!"
"Oh, that... Don't mind him; he's just resting."
"Right... with a snapped neck and bloody streaks."
"Resting posthumously," I shrugged.
"Is everyone okay with the civilians?" the little one changed the subject.
"Yes. We managed."
"Splendid. I won't have to write reports."
"..."
"Just kidding," she winked at me. "I'm glad it ended well."
"It's only just begun," I answered quietly. "Alright, Sun. If that's all, then end of transmission."
"Aha."
Disconnecting the link, I spent some time going over the outlines of the plan in my head, but I was pulled from my thoughts by Tron entering.
"Boss?"
"Ah, Tron. I have an assignment for you," the Mandalorian sat right on a nearby table. "I need information. I need you to head to Nal Hutta and Nar Shaddaa. The Hutts were interested in Tatooine, and I need to know what they think of Tatooine now. Repaint your armor, act as a regular mercenary; you can take someone for help. Specifically, I'm interested in Gardulla the Hutt. Take a couple of jobs, enter the circle of other mercenaries..."
"There's no need for that," Tron shook his head. "There are safe houses in both places. I can just talk to our people."
"Excellent, then do just that."
"Understood."
"Right..." looking at Zero's sensor, I estimated what to do with the Pykes. The question remains open, and for now, I don't see a solution. Entering into a conflict with an entire syndicate—my teeth haven't grown that much yet. But we can snap back...
Suddenly a wind blew at my back, although the door was closed.
"What is it, Mom?" lifting the mask, I looked into the empty eye sockets. Behind the mask, in the background, a pitcher rose into the air. After hanging for about twenty seconds, it smashed against the floor with all its might. "Hm... Could you be a bit more specific?"
"...return the ship to the employer..." a quiet, barely audible whisper came on the edge of hearing.
"Return the ship? To the Pykes?" glancing at the broken pitcher, it finally dawned on me. "Hm... That's a thought. Thanks, Mom."
A light vibration, and I felt a touch on my cheek.
"I'm very glad you're slowly recovering," returning the mask to my belt, I put on my helmet. "Kaut, come in."
"Here."
"Change of plans. Leave the cruiser as it is and load all the bodies onto it."
"Boss?"
"We're sending the ship back to the sender."
"Um..."
"Well, home. And there, it will, accidentally, fall right on their heads. The machine is old, dilapidated, well, you get it."
"Heh-heh-heh."
"Can you do it?"
"Yes."
"Then get to it; you're personally responsible for the result. Keep in mind that you must act quickly; no one can find out about their deaths ahead of time."
"Everything will be in the best possible way!"
"I hope so."
Turning off the link, I froze for a moment. I think this will be a good response; if anything—an accident; well, those who understand—will understand.
"Let's go, Zero," rising, I held out my arm. The droid immediately jumped and, moving its manipulators, climbed onto my shoulder.
Leaving the cantina, without tension now, I walked calmly through the city streets. The relief that possessed the people was not just written on their faces and mugs; it literally hung in the air. Those who had suffered some losses were patiently waiting for their reimbursement near the spaceport, as that was where the temporary TNC office on Tatooine was located.
The Mandalorians, meanwhile, continued to comb the city for any hidden lucky ones, looking everywhere, except they didn't check the trash cans everywhere. I especially laughed when I saw a huge, armor-clad Besalisk knocking on a door and politely, with a huge blaster in his hands, asking if everything was okay with the family.
Feeling the sincerity of those words and the peaceful attitude, I simply couldn't help but laugh at the face of the man who opened the door. Heh, I already know who I'll be sending for negotiations if required.
"Zero, make a note of that guy."
"Accepted."
While some residents of Mos Eisley were recovering, others were helping the Mandalorians. Carrying corpses, tidying up, helping with patrolling, just in case someone really remained. Alas, the outsiders also suffered because of recent events; some smugglers and just individuals engaged in shady business were caught in the crossfire. Those who were smarter didn't stick their heads out, or immediately laid down their weapons.
No one worried that someone would disguise themselves as an outsider, as it was easy to check; all ships in the spaceport were accounted for, as was the crew. There were also those among the outsiders who managed to come out on top. For example, some enterprising individuals managed during all the events to make several runs and bring in weapons, alcohol, food, and building materials for retail sale. Since everything listed was extremely profitable for us, such turnover was not subject to any taxes, as long as they brought it and didn't get greedy with the prices.
When I reached the spaceport, the ship was already under steam. It was time to find out what the Jedi wanted from me.
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan