A Perverted Galaxy Far Far Away (Star Wars)

 As her ship’s cargohold rattles with the anger of some half-trained pup, Janga Fett’s fingers itch to act. Not that they’re really her fingers anymore. Or even her hands. The replacements that the Count got for her are top of the line to be fair, and in many ways more dangerous than her flesh and blood hands had ever been.

 

However, they’re very much mechanical. Robotic. They are… replacements. And Janga will never forget that. Nor will she forgive. Tch. If she ever gets her hands on that Jedi she’ll… heh. Fucking schutta.

 

Regardless, her lack of real hands is neither here nor there. Her replacements are more than up to the task of dealing with the irritant on her ship of it proves necessary. But to her credit, Dooku’s pet hasn’t pulled her sabers yet, at least. Even as angry as she is, she’s not that far gone. The moment that she does, all bets are off. Janga isn’t about to let some bitch damage this ship. It might not be her Slave I… in fact, it’s a pile of garbage given she’s been forced to disguise herself and discard her previous identity entirely so the Jedi Schutta who have her child continue to think she’s dead.

 

But it’s still her ship. And if Ventress thinks she’s going to get away with damaging it, the little bitch has another thing coming. To that point…

 

“Calm down. Now.”

 

Janga’s stern voice falls on deaf ears, of course. In fact, the rattling in the cargohold gets louder as Asajj turns burning yellow eyes in her direction.

 

“Calm down?! Calm down?! The Jedi got away! The targets are in the wind and we have NO idea where they’re going! All because I made the foolish decision to help YOU first!”

 

Janga’s jaw clenches at that. Ventress was stopping just short of blaming Janga for that decision. If she had, Janga would probably have had some choice words for the bald cunt. Because seriously, ALL of this was Ventress’ idea. It wasn’t like Janga had wanted to work together with the bitch. No, this had been Ventress’ idea from start to finish. Because of that, Janga hadn’t budged when it came to what they were doing first. At the same time…

 

“Don’t be an idiot. Did you think hunting Jedi would be easy? Quit crying just because the job got a little harder.”

 

That certainly gets under Asajj’s skin. Not that the half-trained bitch had thick skin to begin with. No, it was far too easy to rile her up. Case in point, this situation right here. They’d blown up the Main Vault on Scipio. Whatever information Count Dooku was worried about getting into Jedi hands, it was sure to be long gone by now.

 

They’d also made a clean getaway in the aftermath. Nobody knew they were the perpetrators of the attack. In fact, right now the Banking Clan were blaming the Jedi, hilariously enough. All because they fled the system the same night that Janga and Asajj blew up the Main Vault. Why the Jedi were so quick to flee, Janga didn’t know. Perhaps they thought they were going to be fingered for the attack either way… which if so, fair.

 

In fact, that had been Ventress’ hope. She’d been all too eager to go along with the plan, hoping that her prey would get caught up in the resulting investigation. The bald bitch had even crowed about how easy it would be to slip into the Banking Clan’s holding cells to do her Jedi targets in once they did caved to their foolish honor and placed themselves in the Banking Clan’s custody.

 

Needless to say, that hadn’t happened. Neither Janga nor Asajj had seen the Jedi’s actual course of action coming, but unlike Janga, Asajj wasn’t nearly as amused by how fast the Jedi were to rabbit. No, she wasn’t amused at all. Gnashing her teeth, the little bitch stalks forward and puts a finger in Janga’s face, hissing angrily.

 

“Don’t test me, Bounty Hunter.”

 

She still hadn’t drawn a saber, so for the moment Janga would be civil… somewhat.

 

“Get that finger out of my face or you’re going to lose it.”

 

The threat is delivered in a no-nonsense, matter-of-fact tone… and has its intended effect. Asajj’s anger rises for a moment more, the cargohold shaking all the more violently… and then lowers to a simmer. For a brief moment, Janga sees a flash of fear in the little cunt’s eyes. She’s afraid of her. Truthfully, Janga doesn’t know why. But Asajj has always been afraid of her for as long as they’ve known each other. Her reputation for killing Force Users precedes her it would seem.

 

Regardless, even as she forces herself to pull back, Ventress is still very, very agitated. Janga lets her stew in that feeling for a moment longer, making sure the tantrum is actually over before continuing. You never reinforced bad behavior. All of the books she’d read back when she’d first had the cloners make Boba for her had been very clear about that. If you wanted to raise a kid right, you had to make sure they never felt like they were rewarded for being naughty.

 

… Of course, Asajj wasn’t her kid. Her kid was somewhere else still, hopefully alive and at least in good health. But until Dooku found Boba, Janga was forced into a no-win situation. And without a very, VERY good reason, she couldn’t kill the bald cunt in front of her. Which meant she had to work with her instead.

 

“Now that you’ve calmed down… here.”

 

With a flick of her mechanized wrist, Janga tosses a datapad through the air. Thanks to her Force Sensitivity and trained reflexes, Asajj is able to catch it. The other woman blinks as she looks down at the datapad, her brow furrowing in confusion.

 

“… What is this?”

 

Janga doesn’t dignify that with a response. She knows well enough that Asajj isn’t illiterate, so she just waits a second for the pup to catch on. Any second now…

 

“This-!”

 

“Yep.”

 

Popping the ‘P’, Janga snorts derisively as she crosses her arms over her chest.

 

“You think I would go into any situation without a backup plan? I paid the Dockworkers to tag both of the Jedi’s ships with trackers before we left to deal with the Main Vault. Looks like they didn’t find either… and it also looks like they’re heading the same way too.”

 

For a long moment, Ventress stands there in silence, clutching at the datapad like the lifeline it is. Janga scoffs, knowing full well that she’s not going to get a word of thanks nor an apology from the bald bitch. In fact, silence is about the best she can hope for… but alas, she has to break it.

 

“Now you have a decision to make. We’ve completed half of the mission. But the other half, YOUR half stands before us. Are you going to contact your Master, update him on the events so far and ask him to hold your hand as to what our next steps are going to be? Or are we going to hunt these Jedi down and end them once and for all?”

 

Admittedly, Janga had her own bone to pick with these particular Jedi. She would be quite happy to help Asajj kill them all. But then, she didn’t need to know that. Still, Janga isn’t particularly surprised by Ventress’ eventual response.

 

“… No. Contacting my Master will not be necessary. I can get in touch with him once the mission is complete. Get us into the air and set a course for wherever they’re going.”

 

Janga just scoffs again, turning around and heading to the cockpit. She’s already done the math. While there are a bunch of planets they COULD be heading for, most of them are unlikely due to extreme uninhabitable conditions. In the end, at this point there was only one planet that seemed remotely likely and Janga sees no problem with setting course for it. If their prey winds up changing their destination, they’ll know and be able to follow quite easily.

 

Still… the Mandalorian can’t help but wonder. What the fuck is on Bal’demnic of all places?

 

-x-X-x-

 

Bal’demnic. It seemed a strange place for a Sith Lord to make his home… or whatever it was they were chasing exactly. If Maris was right and it was some hidden Sith Laboratory, Tylo wasn’t sure how they were going to tackle it. The place was sure to be trapped, after all.

 

Still, between the ocean planet’s rocky cliffs, pristine beaches, and vast seas, it was altogether a beautiful place, even from orbit. Located in the Bak’rofsen System of the Auril Sector, Bal’demnic was firmly placed within the midst of the Outer Rim Territories. Meaning it was largely left alone. Especially since the Kon’me, Bal’demnic’s native species, were incredibly hostile to outsiders.

 

Fortunately, the information on Darth Plagueis that they’d pulled from Clu Lesser’s private vault had come with not just coordinates, but codes that allowed them to fly their two ships right past Bal’demnic’s orbital defenses and down to the surface below. That a Sith Lord would have such power over the locals, especially when said locals were notoriously aggressive to visitors, was both disconcerting and at the same time made all too much sense.

 

Regardless, they make it down to Hego Damask’s hidden little base without much fanfare from the Kon’me. Apparently, the planet had rich deposits of cortosis ore on one of its continents, a valuable mineral useful against both lightsabers and blaster fire. That said, those cortosis deposits were on the opposite side of the planet from the coordinates they were heading for, which likely lowered any suspicions from the Kon’me alongside the authentication codes they used.

 

Tylo had his worries about whether Bal’demnic would eventually come under the gaze of both the Separatists and the Republic given a bit more time. The Outer Rim was currently being dragged into the war left, right, and center in what were already being termed the Outer Rim Sieges. Numerous planets with not much in the way of defenses but PLENTY in the way of resources were being targeted by the Separatists for said resources, forcing the Republic to spread itself further and further to respond.

 

For Bal’demnic, it was probably only a matter of time. The Separatists might not have reached this Star System yet, but they were already in the Auril Sector fighting against Republic Fleets. Tylo’s heart went out to the Jedi Generals and Clone Soldiers in said fleets. Part of him wished he could be fighting with them… but he knew deep down inside that this was more important, as horrible as that seemed.

 

Whatever they found in Hego Damask’s hidden residence HAD to be of value to their mission. There had to be answers here, Tylo was sure of it.

 

“I’m coming! If this is a Sith Base, there might be Sith! Or information on where the Sith are! I’m not staying on the ship this time!”

 

“Ms. Fett, we have not withheld any information from you, have we? You can trust us to continue sharing our findings. But it might not be safe for a child to-!”

 

“I’m not a child! Not anymore!”

 

Aayla lets out a sigh from where she was trying to convince Boba to stand down. Then, she gives Tylo a concerned look.

 

 

Tylo grimaces and glances to Boba, who scowls and crosses her arms over her chest mulishly.

 

 

And then to Rook Kast, standing at her shoulder as a silent sentinel.

 

 

… Right. Giving Aayla a minute shake of his head, Tylo smiles at Boba.

 

“If it’s that important to you, Boba… then you can come. But please be careful. The Sith aren’t known for rainbows and sunshine. This base is sure to be trapped to hell and back and not in ways that you can necessarily even notice without Force Sensitivity. So PLEASE listen to us when we tell you not to touch certain things… because they might literally be capable of flaying your flesh from your body with a touch.”

 

That, at least, gets a pronounced reaction from the young female clone. Boba’s eyes widen and she looks at him searchingly for a moment.

 

 

Tylo, for his part, makes sure to not so much as flinch, doing his level best to convey just how deadly serious he is. Sure, he’s never encountered a Sith Artifact capable of doing what he just described, but he’s heard enough of the horror stories to feel like it’s possible. After a long moment, it’s Boba who breaks eye contact first, scowling and pouting a bit as she turns her head to the side and actually acts her age for a second.

 

“… Fine.”

 

Her petulance aside, Tylo can tell from her mind that she actually is a little scared by his description. And that’s really all he can hope for. With that taken care of, the six of them approach the large doors to Hego Damask’s lair. The landing pads themselves had been hidden inside of a natural cave, and the long-dead Sith’s base was within the cave as well, buried underneath a mountain. It certainly looked very doom and gloom… or as doom and gloom as a place on this otherwise beautiful planet could get.

 

That said, as they get closer to the massive doors, something happens. Out of the ground in front of the doors, a pedestal rises and from that pedestal a holocron is produced. Said holocron opens up completely of its own volition… and what can only be Darth Plagueis himself appears as a projection above it.

 

Immediately, everyone tenses up, though Tylo suspects he and Aayla tense up the most. The Mandalorians with them don’t likely know how dangerous Sith Holocrons can be, and Maris wouldn’t be aware either, not as a Padawan anyways. Still… this is their foe. Even if he’s already dead. Everyone is right to be concerned.

 

 

Wait, what? Tylo jolts in alarm as he shares a wide-eyed look with Aayla at that. Touched by the Dark Side? He was aware of his own brushes with the Dark Side, but his Master?

 

 

Right, that was fair. Even still, they were both firmly Jedi. They walked in the Light. Then again, Master Yoda was fond of saying that once you touched the Dark Side, it would forever dominate your destiny. Could that really be true? True enough that a Sith Holocron, said to be a semi-sentient imprint of the Sith Lord who made it, could sense it in them?

 

 

Kill the spare. Darth Plagueis’ remnant in the holocron says it so… casually. In this case, he means for one of them to kill the other. He doesn’t care which. And he’s not against the others they’ve brought in tow despite Maris’ training. But he’s asking Tylo and Aayla to fight to the death. That… that’s unacceptable.

 

At the same time though, they need the information this holocron and the base beyond it hold. They need to get in, no matter what.

 

… Fuck.