NationStates Jolt Archive

New Byzant System, Outer Rim-Dominion

Byzant – a backwater world on the Outer Rim, ranking just high enough to earn a modest Imperial outpost; far removed enough from the larger galactic conflicts – from any hope of notice or recognition – it’s where military careers go to die.

A lieutenant stepped from behind the panel of communication arrays and over to his commanding officer who stood before a large hologram projector that was showing the details of the planet Byzant. His fellow junior officer was standing nearby, pointing out the newest location of another mining facility was to be founded.

“More trouble from refinery, six-two-two, sir…,” the lieutenant said, coming to attention before his commander.

While it may be a backwater, that’s not to say that the Imperials don’t make do. They started shaking down the locals the moment we set foot on the planet.

“…they’ve blockaded the transports, and the foreman’s screaming about our latest price adjustments. This is the third Dunan lockout this month. Should I send a few squad of stormtroopers to break it up?” asked the lieutenant.

Extortions, political coups, gambling rackets – it’s amazing what you can get away with when the natives think the Empire’s on the verge of a full-scale occupation…even if it’s a total lie.

“Don’t bother Lieutenant Reed – I’ll deal with it myself. Let’s see them try that ‘embargo’ garbage with me. Get Korino on the comm,” ordered Commander Ryzik. Commander Ryzik doesn’t want to be here anymore than the rest of us, but he thinks he’s strong-arming a bad situation to his advantage. He has no idea.

Our “partner” in all this illegal activity is the Dunan Royal Family. They own and run the refineries from which we get the vast majority of ship fuel that is used in the entire system. The foreman at the refinery was finally reached on the comm.

“No, no – unacceptable! You think you can roll us over like this? You think you can chop out profits to the bone and we’ll just take it?” shouted the foreman’s voice over the comm. “And here’s a message from my father – the King – you can go to hell!”

“Listen, you little parasite – unless you want another appointment with my interrogation squad, you send that convoy out – NOW! You tell your daddy, he has a problem with this arrangement, he talks to me,” responded Commander Ryzik.

Lieutenant Reed waved and got his peer’s attention. His fellow lieutenant nodded and the two walked out of the command room, leaving Ryzik to continue yelling threats into the comm. Reed just shook his head and sighed, walking down the tunnel with a new sense of purpose falling on his shoulders.

“Come on, Markel. There’s something I want you to see,” said Lieutenant Reed.

“You think we’ll get those fuel tankers rolling again?” Markel asked back, following Reed through the base.

“You think it matters? It’ll just be the same tomorrow. Ryzik thinks he can control those Dunans, but he’s wrong.”

Reed led the pair of them outside the compound of their based and into the neighboring woods. Markel didn’t know what to think, just that he had trusted his friend Reed for the better part of three years, ever since they’d graduated from the Academy on Carida together. He’d never let them down yet.

“Those Dunans see right through us. We make a lot of noise, but they know we can’t run this fuel scam alone. If they aren’t shown what happens when they cross us, they’ll only get more defiant,” pronounced Reed. They started up the incline of a large, rocky hill.

“Like there’s anything we can do about it,” Markel pointed out. “This is about you missing that promotion isn’t it?”

“I shouldn’t even be here. I should be driving my own Star Destroyer over planets like this,” complained Reed.

“Maybe if you hadn’t tried to commandeer the Dreadnought that dropped us off out here, you might still be serving on it – ” started Markel.

“– Or maybe,” Reed interrupted, “If they’d listened to me we might’ve caught that Rebel convoy --.”

“It was just a blip,” Markel reminded him.

“Whatever – doesn’t matter. What’s important now is that we teach those Dunans a lesson and break this blockade,” Reed grinned wolfishly. “If I can knock some sense into them, Ryzik will stop blocking my requests and give me the promotion I deserve.

“If the Dunans won’t play by our rules, and if Ryzik won’t do what’s necessary…”

The pair of Imperial officers stepped onto the summit of the hill and passed through barricading trees into a clear area. In the middle of the clearing was a highly modified and personalized 74-Z speeder bike. The figure standing next to it had his blaster relaxingly tipped over his shoulder as the sun was gleaming off his green and gold Mandalorian armour. Lieutenant Markel’s chin hit the ground in a subdued thud. The officer turned and grabbed a hold of Reed’s shoulders, shaking him a bit.

“Please tell me that’s not who I think it is,” he demanded. “Please tell me you didn’t just wrap Commander Ryzik’s hands around our throats!”

“Relax,” Reed assured his friend. “The old buzzard has no clue.”

“I know you’re frustrated,” declared Markel as the pair walked closer to the Mandalore warrior. “But this is overkill!”

“Don’t worry – I’ve covered all the angles. You’ll see,” assured Reed, patting his friend on the shoulder. The imperial lieutenant stepped up to the Mandalore and smiled.

“These locals need to be shown that resisting the Empire is a lost cause,” Reed explained to the Mandalore. “You’ll be doing a great service for the Emperor--”

The Mandalore cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Save it. My loyalty is to the contract. The enemy of my employer is my enemy, too.”

“You’re a man who knows what he wants – I can appreciate that. This is more than enough to cover your fee,” Reed smiled again. He held out a stack of Imperial Credits the size of a large data pad. Markel visibly paled as he watched the Mandalore take the wad of credits and hop onto his speeder.

“It had better be,” the Mandalore said in parting. He revved his engines and blasted off over the lip of the hill, causing Reed and Markel to grab their hats so they didn’t get sent flying in the exhaust. Markel stood up and dusted off his uniform, setting his cap back aright on his head. He turned and looked at Reed who still had a ridiculous smile on his face after just sending one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy after the Dunan Royal Family.

“We are so dead right now,” complained Markel.

Reed apparently didn’t hear him. “Markel, my friend – that is how you get things done. You’ve just witnessed the beginning of a long and exceptional military career.” The two of them turned back and began heading back to the Imperial outpost. Reed seemed assured of their imminent rise.

“I wish I could see their faces when he rolls up. He probably won’t even have to fire a shot. I’ll be in Upper Command before nightfall!” smiled Reed.

“That, or executed for insubordination,” murmured Markel.

"Relax! What's the worst that could happen?"

Dunan Refinery Depot, Karkuk City

If anyone had cared to stop and ask what the man wearing Mandalorian armour was doing atop the water tower overlooking the fuel depot run by the Dunan Fuel Refinery Company, they’d have been biting off more than what even the best could chew on. Which was why no one did, especially since he carried a meter long portable rocket-launcher on his shoulder as he casually walked off the street, into a side alley, and then used his jet pack to land smoothly atop one of the city’s major water towers. It gave a wide panoramic view of the refinery, which was a landscape filled with fuel tanks each the size of a three-story building. The complex was large, covering a tenth of the city if he remembered right from the specs that Lieutenant Reed had given him.

As he gazed down the hired mercenary could see a collection of repulsor fuel trucks sitting in neat formation. Their drivers sat about playing sabaac or drinking and eating. Off to one side, standing on top of one truck, was a man who was apparently of high importance since he was ordering some men around, and in between orders he would shout into a comlink he carried in his hand. The mercenary however didn’t need to know what he was saying. All he knew was that he had found his first target.

The mercenary hefted the launcher to his shoulder, planted his feet, and brought his helmet’s tracking system online. A red circle appeared on the visor screen and moved around, mirroring the directional movement of the mercenary’s eye. It settled over the torso of the man who stood talking into his comlink, but then shifted, moving to rest on the cockpit of a fuel truck thirty meters away. The target finder beeped and the merc pressed the firing stud on the launcher.

With a hiss-thump-roar, one of the four rockets from the rocket launcher and its flaming tail flew down like a meteor. The sound of its approach gave all those in the vicinity a few seconds time to look up and be horrified, but only a few seconds. The rocket impacted through the glass windshield and exploded on impacting with the metal wall of the cockpit. The fuel tank was blown to shreds. And while that was enough to cause mayhem, the fifty-thousand liters of starship fuel that had been inside the compressed rear hatch of the fuel tank quite literally added fuel to the fire.

Several other repulsor fuel trucks were caught in the flames from the first explosion and then cooked off themselves, causing even more explosions to rip across the grounds of the depot. Men ran in all directions, screaming and yelling in fear. More than a few were simply engulfed by the flames or the force of the explosion. The boss who had been standing on the fuel truck furthest away was thrown more than twenty meters to land to a skidding halt.

Blood covered his face and hands where his skin hadn’t been protected by his high-intensity heat suit, though soot and dirt covered his entire length. He raised up on his knees and hands, coughing from the rolling clouds of smoke that covered him. A silhouette appeared behind him. Heavily booted footfalls seemed to echo and the man turned to see possibly one of his worst nightmares aiming an EE-3 carbine rifle in his face. He raised his hand in a pleasing manner, horror falling across his blood spattered, soot-covered features.

“Please! No! I-I’m the prince of the Dunan-,” his plea was cut short as an armoured boot impacted onto his face.

* * * * * * * * *


Lieutenants Reed and Markel were walking down the service cooridor back inside the Imperial outpost headed towards the cafeteria. Reed had managed to calm Markel down enough to convince him that getting some food and sitting down for a while to think the plan over would be a good thing. Then Reed’s comlink beeped. He took it out.

“Yes, Fett, what is it?” Reed asked knowing it was the mercenary even before he answered. Only a few knew his comlink number. “Have you roughed up Prince Dunan for us?”

“Let’s just say they won’t be using this fuel refinery again anytime soon,” came the modulated voice of the mercenary. “I’m on to Phase Two. I’ll contact you when I’m finished at the King’s palace.” The comlink chirped as the mercenary cut the line. Markel stared at the comlink with a horror-filled face. He turned and gripped Reed by the front of his uniform again, a habit that was beginning to irk Reed a bit.

“The Palace!?” Markel half-shouted. “You see what you’ve done now!? I tried to stop you, but you wouldn’t listen!”

Reed remained quiet, simply staring back at Markel with a bemused look on his face. Markel let go of his uniform and started thinking, fast.

“We have to tell Commander Ryzik. If Fett murders King Dunan, there’s going to be a war and we’re all going to die,” pronounced Markel. Taking thought and word into action he turned away from Reed and began half-running down the hallway. Reed snapped out of it and followed, trying to sooth his friend.

“No – wait! We don’t have to – Markel please!”

“Ryzik can fix this mess. Don’t worry – if you come clean, he’ll understand,” promised Markel.

* * * * * * * * * * *


Commander Ryzik slammed Lieutenant Reed up against the metal wall of the command center and gripped him by the throat. He was shouting, and with each word his grip became just a little bit more tight.

“You – Did – What?!” he shouted into Reed’s face. The lieutenant was visibly turning green from lack of air but managed to gargle a small response.

“I-It seemed like a good idea at the…time…,” Reed explained.

Ryzik seemed disinclined to accept that. He gripped tighter. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t break your neck right here?” he asked sinisterly.

Before Lieutenant Reed could answer or even before Ryzik could make good on any of his threats a junior officer stepped into the room and coughed, getting the commander’s attention. Ryzik turned, his eyebrows twitching in irritation. “What?” he demanded.

“Uh, er – sir? There’s an incoming transmission for you…it’s King Dunan,” replied the officer.

Ryzik let go of Reed and walked to the holo-projector room, both Reed and Markel followed, curious to hear what King Dunan had to say. They found the holo technicians working and a face the size of a man was floating over the projector. King Dunan’s face was shown in sharp detail, clearly showing how old he was. He grimaced and his face twitched in anger. He spoke up before Ryzik could say anything.

“You’ve cross the line this time, Ryzik – and you’ve just brought Hell down upon yourself and all your men!” King Dunan declared.

Ryzik raised his arms in a defensive body-language posture. “Now hold on – you just simmer down now. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

That seemed to piss King Dunan off even more. His face contorted into rage and as he began yelling Lieutenant Reed noted that the hologram caught the flecks of spit that were showering out from the old man’s mouth.

“Oh, no? You had nothing to do with the Mandalorian Commando who just leveled my son’s refinery?”

“What would I gain from doing that?” asked Ryzik in return. “If we wanted to hit your plant, we would’ve done it ourselves. If it was a Mandie, its most likely the Hutts trying to stir things up between us.” The commander tried to sound as sincere as possible. Reed and Markel were both surprised at how convincing he sounded. King Dunan however simply grew a skeptical demeanor.

“The Hutts, eh? I suppose the Hutts left this message, too –,” King Dunan’s face disappeared for a moment and was replaced by the image of a Mandalorian warrior in full battle gear, pointing an EE-3 blaster carbine at the holo projector.

“Commander Ryzik sends his regards,” said the Mandalorian.

Commander Ryzik shot his head to the side and stared at Reed like a turbolaser battery turning to blow up the most insignificant ship out of existence. Reed quite suitably cringed. But Ryzik knew he didn’t have time to take out his anger on the erstwhile lieutenant. He turned to a captain.

“Scramble our TIEs! Deploy every stormtrooper we have! Move!” The entire headquarters erupted into activity as Ryzik gave the orders. The man turned back around however and glared at the still fearful-looking lieutenant. “Reed, you’d better pray that we get to Dunan’s palace before Fett does!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


It didn’t take much for the mercenary to infiltrate the palace, parking his speeder bike in a bunch of bushes outside the gate, then using his jetpack to get inside the walls. Because it was mid-day more of the occupants were out to lunch or simply at home, leaving Dunan and his private guard to be the only ones left in the entire palace. The palace itself was made of a grayish stone, the architecture more functional than artistic. Ugly and squat were the words that came to mind, especially considering the number of laser cannon emplacements that lined the roofs and walls of the palace like pimples on a younglings face.

The merc wound his way through the corridors of the palace before coming up to a large set of wooden doors with the Dunan Royal Crest emblazoned upon it. The merc smiled and kicked the doors in. The room beyond the portal was large and expansive, the throne room where Dunan would meet with his court. Sitting in his throne at the far end of the room was King Dunan himself. The old king grimaced and spat in the merc’s direction, then stood up and pointed.

“Guards! Kill the intruder!” Dunan cried.

A half dozen men came charging out from behind various tapestries or doorways. They were armed either with shock mauls, their electrical heads audibly vibrating with energy, or ungainly looking vibroblades. The merc sighed inwardly to himself for a split second, then burst into action.

He whipped out his carbine blaster in a heartbeat and blasted burning holes into the chest of three of the idiots charging him head-on. He turned and ducked as a fourth came close and missed. The merc put his carbine under his arm and shot backwards, taking the guard in the gut. He fell bodily to the floor.

Seeing an opening with the mercenary’s gun turned away, another guard tried to bring his shock maul crashing down on the Mandalore helmet. But all he hit was air and empty space. The merc had used his twist momentum to roll away, ducking past the descending melee weapon and past the other of the remaining pair of guards. The two of them got in each others way as they turned to try and catch the intruder again. Giving the merc enough time to bring his carbine to bear and pull the trigger twice. Their dead corpses hit the ground with a meaty thunk.

The merc turned to see King Dunan racing away to a side portal that led to an outside balcony. Luckily he ran straight into a table and chair, halting his progress. The old man raised up a glass that had been sitting on the table and threw it at the intruder.

“No – Don’t! I’m warning you,” King Dunan declared. The glass hit the helmet of the intruder and shattered. That irked him.

The merc gripped King Dunan around the collar with his left hand and bunched his right into a fist. His armored gauntlet impacted heavily against the king’s jaw. Seemingly to ignore the pain, the old man spit blood and grinned at the merc.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before the Empire’s greed overran their common sense,” Dunan said, his words coming out a bit unclearly due to blood. “But I wonder…now that the Imperials are on the way to claim their prize and to sweep away anything – or anyone – that can incriminate them…I wonder what your common sense tells you,” he said to the merc. “I have a little proposition for you. Whatever they paid you to come here – I’ll double it!”

The merc eased up a bit on the grip he hand on the old man and seemed to consider his words for a moment. He nodded and let the old man go. The King smiled and pulled out a huge wad of credits from his pockets and handed it to the Mandalorian.

“Make those fools sorry,” demanded King Dunan.

“That’s just what I was thinking,” said the merc as he walked out of the palace. “I want payment up front.”

Dunan Royal Palace, Throne Room


King Korino Dunan didn’t say anything more as he watched the mercenary leave the throne room and disappeared beyond the kicked-in doors. Though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone aloud, he had been so afraid in those few seconds that the mercenary had held him by the collar that he almost soiled himself. Any intelligent being in their right mind would do that, knowing that man’s reputation. King Dunan wiped the last of the blood from his mouth with the back of his shirt cuff and pulled out a comlink from his pocket. He pressed the button connected to the head security officer in the palace.

“Activate the palace defenses,” Dunan ordered. “If the Mandalorian goes down in the crossfire – so be it.”

The merc used his jetpack to exit the same way he had entered the palace. He landed smoothly in the patch of bushes and walked over to his speeder bike, turning on its power and mounting up. His sensors detected a sudden spike in energy, and he turned to see several of the laser cannon emplacements of the palace had come online. Royal retainers were running about, sitting in targeting chairs, and warming up their weapons. An officer walked the ramparts behind them, shouting orders. The merc ignored them.

He pressed the pedal of his bike and shot off like a bat out of hell, swerving to within inches of the outer palace wall, and then turning to go back towards the Imperial outpost on the other side of Karkuk City. He heard them before he could see them. As he cleared a tree line in front of him, he saw, coming hot and fast, a group of TIE atmospheric fighters and a TIE bomber. Below them and on their tails, were six LAV Chariots. It looked as if Commander Ryzik had emptied out the entire Imperial outpost.

The royal officer on the ramparts saw the TIEs almost at the same time as the merc did. He pointed dramatically and shouted aloud to his men. “Bring down those TIE fighters! Fire!”

Searing lances of laser cannon fire speared out. One TIE bomber that was just passing over the merc’s head was hit. The explosion rocked the speeder bike and sent red hot pieces of shrapnel in all directions. The mercenary managed to dodge most of it. He wisely swerved aside and watched as the laser cannon of the palace’s defenses began tearing into the LAV Chariots. One was hit in its rear, and the repulsor engine that kept it above the ground exploded, sending it into a crash dive that dug a nice new ditch into the ground. White armoured stormtroopers and a few officers poured out of it, escaping. They managed to get ten feet when it was hit a second time by a very vindictive laser cannon operator, totally destroying it.

The mercenary spotted Lieutenant Reed and Markel picking themselves up from the debris and rubble from the explosion. Both had lost their hats and were standing slightly shell shocked. Lieutenant Reed was looking around at the destruction as if he didn’t really accept that it was all there. He turned and saw Commander Ryzik lying half-under a piece of metal from a LAV Chariot.

“Well, this wasn’t quite what I had in mind,” Reed said aloud.

He heard a footstep and turned his face. He found his cheek pushed up against the business end of an EE-3 carbine blaster rifle. The mercenary didn’t move an inch, and neither did Lieutenants Reed and Markel. The mercenary shrugged.

“That’s what happens when you hire the best,” he said in reply to Reed’s statement.

He visibly relaxed and took the carbine away from the lieutenant’s face and slung it over his shoulder. He planted his feet and cocked his head in just such a way as to know that he had to be smirking under his helmet.

“That should about do it,” he told Reed.

Markel was now totally confused. “Eh?”

“You’re very thorough – I’ll give you that,” said Reed with grim respect, but couldn’t keep a grin from going on his face for a moment. The two of them suddenly looked up to see dozens of TIE fighters flying over their heads and a number of Imperial Assault Shuttles speeding by too.

“I’d like you to feel that you got your money’s worth,” replied the mercenary, looking back at Reed.

“And then some,” agreed the lieutenant.

They all watched as the TIE bombarded the Royal Palace, watched as its ramparts and walls fell in crumbling piles and turned into visceral balls of flame. If they stretched their hearing some, they could almost make out a few high-pitched screams. They were interrupted however as a Lambda-class shuttle came down near them. The belly hatch released and a ramp lowered. Down it came a female Imperial commodore and a cadre of stormtroopers and officers. She turned to the just then rising form of Ryzik.

“Commander Ryzik – you’re under arrest,” she declared in an authoritative voice. She turned to the trio in front of her. “Lieutenant Reed…congratulations, your plan was a success.” She accepted Reed’s salute and then shook his hand. “We knew we’d have to eventually depose King Dunan when we expanded more into this system but we never questioned Ryzik’s loyalty. He was one of our best officers – as far as we knew.

“If you hadn’t reported him, we’d have never known what was really going on out here.”

Reed straightened and tried to look like the officer he was. “I was only doing my duty to the Empire commodore. So what happens next?” Reed asked.

“First we have a long sit-down with King Dunan and find ot where his loyalties lie…,” her tone made it quite clear where they should lay. “Then we work on pushing your promotion through. This sector is now under your command.”

The commodore looked at Reed with a curious look. “I’ll admit, when you outlined your plan and requested the resources, we had some doubts. You’ve impressed us.” Without another word the commodore went back aboard her shuttle.

“You lied to me!” said Markel behind him. Reed turned and smiled at his friend.

“No, my friend – you made your own assumptions. I counted on your loyalty to the chain of command to help see my plan through. That kind of allegiance won’t go unnoticed or unrewarded. It’s precisely the quality I’m looking for in an executive adjutant to help me run the new sector. Up for the task?” Reed said.

“Well, if that’s where I’m needed…but tell me, you must have been planning this for months. How did you do so much with so little?” asked Markel.

Reed turned and looked at the mercenary in Mandalorian armour who was remounting his speeder bike, obviously about to take off after completely the job. “It was easy,” said Reed, “I chose the right tool for the job.”

The pair of them walked up to the speeder and Reed raised his hand, getting the man’s attention.

“Before you go, I have a proposition for you,” Reed said. “This is wild country out here. You interested in helping the Empire tame it?”

“You couldn’t afford me on a full-time basis,” said the merc. He cocked his head again. “Tell me something though – you could’ve let things stand out here, taken over the operation, and made yourself a rich man. Why break it up?”

“I’m thinking bigger,” replied Reed, a smile on his face. “It’s only a matter of time before the Empire’s reach extends to this sector in a more prominent fashion. When that happens, power will be more important than wealth.”

“I’d have taken the credits,” shrugged the bounty hunter. “A lot of enemies come along with that power you’ve just inherited. A lot of wealthy enemies willing to do whatever – or hire whomever – it takes to bring you down. Anyway, you still owe the other half of my wage. I won’t take it now though. Instead, I’ll just have you owe me a favour. Keep the comlink I gave you and be sure to answer when I call.”

Without another word the bounty hunter revved his engines and kicked off, shooting dust behind him into Reed’s face. Reed, watching the retreating image of the man on the speeder, had an extremely worried look on his face as if he’d made a big mistake.

Muunilinst System, Braxant Run Hyperlane

The Interceptor IV-class frigate the Joker’s Spring came out of hyperspace over the blue-green world of the Muuns and location for the Inter-Galactic Banking Clan. It was one of the greatest financial powers in the galaxy. When the governments established their currencies, the InterGalactic Banking Clan was a major guarantor and distributor. It was also the location of one of the banks that the bounty hunter’s master used.

Zing took off the Mandalorian armour and set it back on its case mounts. He was not a human, per-se, but rather a Near-Human species. His brilliant, emerald green eyes gave away his heritage. Every Zelosian had shining green eyes. Zing checked the ammo in his EE-3 and set it in its own locker as well. Every piece of his equipment was a replica that needed to be kept in good condition. Because wearing that armour and using those weapons gave Zing an edge that gave him a lot of opportunities in his line of work. It was never a bad thing when people assumed you were bigger and badder than anything they had. Which is what made it great when people thought he was Boba Fett, the notorious, but quite dead, Mandalorian commando-turned bounty hunter.

This in turn was why his master and boss found Zing quite useful from time to time as had been the case when the Byzant offer had come up. When someone requested aid or sent out word for Boba Fett, then off Zing went with his armour and the Firespray assault boat that was in the hanger of his personal ship, the Joker’s Spring.

Zing walked over to his computer and logged into the private holo network that his master’s slicers had created years before. A private network accessible only by those who knew it was there and had the codes to enter it. Zing pressed in a series of numbers and letters, fully forty different digits, and then pressed an activation switch.

A holo-image of a sexy Twi’lek female appeared. “Welcome back Master Zing,” the female voice said.

“Computer, I need my next assignment,” replied Zing. He never understood why Ghent had to make the network’s AI admin appear as a fem. It didn’t make sense, but apparently it made the genius slicer happy, and so Zing’s boss had allowed it.

“Right away,” said the AI seductively. It stood stock-still for a second before moving back into action. A holoscreen appeared and text began running down it. Zing read every line and nodded.

“Thanks Sherry," as the AI was called, "Tell Zann that I’ll have the shipment to him within a week and a half. Shouldn’t take me longer than that to get back to base.”

He pressed the end button and the connection to the criminal holo network was cut. Zing walked to the hanger of his frigate ship, which was run by a crew of specially programmed droids, and stepped over to his own SoroSuub Personal Luxury Yacht 3000. It’s polished white metal surface shone perfectly to Zing’s eyes. It was one of the few luxuries that he allowed himself.

Within a few minutes Zing was on board and had the systems running. The droid in the hanger opened up the deflector shields on the frigate and with a jolt, Zing pushed his yacht out the portal and into space. Within a few minutes he was approaching Muunilinst. After a few moments speaking with a traffic controller, he was quickly allowed to enter the atmosphere and land. Last time, a few years before, Zing had been denied landing rights. The traffic controller responsible and his entire shift crew had paid dearly for it. Ever since, their predecessors were much more amiable and helpful.

Zing set down on a private landing pad that was connected to the side of a massive, multi-block corporation building within the heart of Harnaidan, the capital of Muunilinst. He looked up as he exited his yacht to see the logo of a major branch of the Banking Clan there. It was a branch that owed much of its success to men like Zing who worked for his boss. As such they catered to Zing and men like him whenever they came. Two human guards escorting a gangly Muun came out from the building entrance and approached Zing.

“Greetings and welcome to Muunilinst,” said the Muun, bowing. “What may we do to make your stay here more comfortable?”

“I will need a room to stay in at night and access to a bulk freighter at docking yard 33A-4 on the east side of the city in two days,” said Zing without preamble.

“It shall be at your disposal,” said the Muun, bowing again. Zing nodded and walked past them, going through the turbolifts of the megalithic building to the Underground levels. The building had access to the large, ever expanding stretch of space underneath the surface of the city. Just like on Coruscant, people lived and died beneath the streets and mega corporate buildings without even ever seeing the light of day. And it was there that the largest amount of illegal trading and information trafficking went on. Where Zing had to meet his contact for his next mission.

It took Zing maybe two hours to navigate the underground walkways until he found his destination. Local thugs paid him no bother, fearing what would happen if they did so. Most were in fact on the payroll of Zing’s boss, and knew better than to try and threaten one of his personal emissaries. Needless to say, they gave him wide birth until he arrived outside the metal door of Dex Mannic, and stepped inside.