A Living Nightmare

  Chapter 25: Goodbye Nigiri

  "Peace is not surrender. It is the strength to walk away, even when vengeance screams louder than reason.."

  Date: 5BBY

  Location: Nigiri- The Scythe

  Vos’la Kaa leaned casually against the cockpit doorway, her arms crossed as she eyed the bound bounty hunter with wary curiosity. Spare binders from Hal tightly secured the man's wrists behind his back, forcing him into a submissive kneeling posture on the floor. HK-47 hovered ominously close by, the constant low hum of his shock prod serving as an unspoken threat.

  I sat heavily in the pilot’s seat, fingers tapping rhythmically against the console as my mind sifted through the chaos and uncertainty that clouded our next move. Beside me, Hal was seated in the co-pilot's chair, rigidly tense, silent in his plastoid armor—he hadn't spoken since my return, allowing HK to vividly recount their recent skirmish in exhaustive detail.

  My senses extended outward, alert for any hint of lingering threats, sabotage, or unexpected visitors within the hangar bay, despite HK’s boastful assurances of his complete control.

  Breaking the lingering silence, I leaned forward and fixed my sightless gaze upon the captive bounty hunter. “Let's start with something simple. Name?”

  The man shifted nervously, swallowing visibly before responding. "Name's Jaxlo," he muttered, discomfort evident in his tone.

  "Alright, Jaxlo," I replied calmly. "Who exactly were you sent after?"

  His jaw tightened, and he hesitated momentarily, reluctant to reveal his information. Eventually, he relented. "Y-you. An Imperial Inquisitor known as the 14th Brother. The bounty specified dead or alive, no preference given."

  I considered this revelation, leaning back slightly as I digested the information. "And how many others are involved in this little hunt? Who else is gunning for me?" If it were something pushed to the larger Guild itself, I would need to react fast.

  Jaxlo hesitated again, eyes flicking nervously toward Vos’la. She simply raised an eyebrow, giving him no reassurance. He sighed in resignation. "Local hunters mostly. Contract's limited to the Nigiri system. Arnev wanted this kept quiet. No outside involvement, no big-name mercenaries. Figured locals would keep it tidy."

  Hal’s frustration boiled over as he abruptly stood, towering over the captive hunter. "And what exactly were your instructions once you captured or killed him?"

  "We were told to deliver proof directly to Vinkar Station for processing," Jaxlo admitted, visibly uncomfortable under Hal’s intense scrutiny.

  "And after that?" I pressed, narrowing my focus.

  He shifted uneasily, glancing desperately between Hal and HK-47. "I don’t know! They didn't give more details. I swear!"

  HK-47 moved closer, the shock prod crackling ominously. "Observation: Your answer is insufficient. Allow me to motivate you properly."

  Before Jaxlo could protest, HK jabbed the prod into his side, sending a powerful jolt of electricity through his body. Jaxlo's body shook violently, a strangled scream escaping his lips before HK finally withdrew.

  "I don't know!" Jaxlo gasped out, his voice strained and trembling. "The Bothan doesn't meet in person for most things. Instructions said proof delivered to Vinkar Station. What happens afterward isn't something we know."

  I nodded thoughtfully, then raised my hand, channeling the Force into sleek spikes of mental energy that pierced into Jaxlo's mind. He went slack, eyes unfocused as he became susceptible to my commands.

  "You will inform your contacts, handlers—whoever they are—that you have captured me alive, with the help of Vos'la Kaa. She was integral in taking me alive," I stated firmly, watching as his shoulders relaxed further.

  "I will inform Sir Okinzo that I've captured you alive, with the help of Vos'la Kaa," Jaxlo repeated obediently.

  I turned my attention to Vos'la, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

  "Ever heard of Okinzo?" I asked casually, curiosity stirring within me.

  Vos'la tilted her head thoughtfully. "Can't say I have. Only ever dealt with the former Mrs. Elkip."

  I inhaled slowly, leaning back into the pilot's seat. "Yeah, that was a dumb move on your part," I began, a hint of grim amusement coloring my words. "You've probably got a hefty price on your head now, and if you're lucky, you'll survive the week."

  She shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking away before meeting mine again. "Why? Why do it?" I pressed, genuine curiosity breaking through my frustration. "And don't give me some heroic nonsense about seeing good in me or feeling some kinship. That's bullshit, and we both know it."

  She hesitated, clearly weighing her response carefully. Finally, she spoke, voice measured and genuine. "You saved me. It's only fair."

  I scoffed lightly, shaking my head. "Those blaster shots wouldn't have killed you. At that range and angle, two of them would have missed entirely."

  "I'm not wearing beskar armor," she retorted sharply, eyes narrowing slightly in defiance. "Those shot’s would have kept coming. I'd be dead from some lowlife's barrage of blaster bolts, and you'd be stuck dealing with all this fun without me."

  A moment passed before I nodded slightly, deciding to shift my attention back to our captive. "HK, undo Jaxlo’s restraints and put them on me. He has a call to make to Sir Okinzo."

  HK deactivated the binders and rolled back a few inches on his treads, the faint hum of his systems idling. "Statement: If he so much as sneezes suspiciously, I shall shock him into unwilling compliance again." Let's not have that happen, just yet. HK and Hal were going to stick out like a sore thumb if the scanner in the ship caught a glimpse of them.

  I turned my head toward Hal and HK. "Check the bodies in the hangar. See if there's anything useful. Weapons, gear, anything we can salvage."

  "Affirmation: With pleasure, Master," HK replied, already turning toward the exit. Hal nodded and followed without a word.

  I then glanced at Vos’la and gave a small shrug. "Might as well look the captured part," I muttered.

  She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object as I knelt, placing my hands behind my back in a mirror of Jaxlo’s previous position. She joined me a moment later, her movements casual but convincing.

  Jaxlo stretched his sore arms and moved to the Scythe’s holoterminal. The cockpit lights dimmed as he activated a secure holochannel, encryption flickering in bright glyphs across the screen.

  After several long seconds, a grainy hologram flickered to life. I immediately recognized the fluttering trills and clicks of his speech—Sir Okinzo, it seems, was a Geonosian. Likely had that brown leather skinned exo skeletal mesh. Gross ass bugs.

  I couldn’t understand the words, but the cadence and tone told me enough: this was someone used to command, not negotiation.

  Jaxlo bowed his head respectfully. "Sir Okinzo. Reporting in. The target has been secured—alive, as requested."

  Okinzo trilled something in response, high-pitched and staccato, the cadence sharper now, tinged with suspicion.

  Jaxlo didn't hesitate. "Vos’la Kaa was essential. She eliminated Mrs. Elkip to gain the Inquisitor’s trust. We were lucky she could get close enough without raising suspicions."

  The Geonosian responded with a longer string of clicks, more agitated this time. Jaxlo’s fingers hovered subtly over the console, but his voice stayed calm.

  "I understand the risk, sir, but the payout warrants the gamble. With her involved, the capture appeared more authentic. Less chance of alerting the target."

  A pause. Okinzo’s next transmission was clipped and terse.

  "Yes, sir. I will be careful. I won't let this opportunity go to waste. See you soon," Jaxlo said quickly before the holo cut out.

  He turned to us, face pale but composed. "We’ve got coordinates. Hidden access tunnels. We’re expected soon. And—" he hesitated slightly, glancing at Vos’la "—since she's has a substantial price on her head, payout’s expected to be higher. So, let’s not screw this up."

  I nodded, gently brushing Jaxlo’s mind with subtle nudges through the Force—barely perceptible, but enough to keep him docile and compliant.

  "Once we’re handed off," I said, turning to Vos’la as we both stood, "I doubt we’ll have any chance to contact the others. Not unless we take over the Bothan's hidey-hole." The idea held more appeal the longer I thought on it. The sheer audacity of putting a price on my head meant Arnev had to know something. He wasn’t guessing—he’d pieced it together, maybe just hours after our arrival and Vos'la’s probing.

  I turned back toward Jaxlo, narrowing my focus. "Go get the others for me, will you?"

  He nodded silently, departing without a word and leaving Vos’la and I alone in the cockpit’s lingering quiet.

  She waited until the door hissed shut. "Seriously though, you're not planning on keeping him alive after this, are you?"

  I shook my head slowly. "No. But I'm not planning on killing him out of spite either. We finish the job. Then... we clean house."

  "That's all I needed to hear," she said, brushing a thumb across her chin and checking her gear. "Just don't wait too long. I don't trust that twitchy little bastard further than I can throw him."

  "You and me both," I muttered.

  Location: Nigiri- Vinkar Station

  The trip aboard Vos’la Kaa’s ship was uneventful, though not without its tensions. Jaxlo had taken the helm at my insistence, maintaining the cover that he was the one delivering us—his bounty, his prize. Vos’la had argued at first, indignant at the thought of someone else touching her ship. But in the end, she'd relented, and frankly it worked better than having to let either one of them fly The Scythe.

  “If there’s one scratch on her hull, Jaxlo,” she warned, standing beside him as he powered up the console, “you’re not getting a credit of the cut.”

  Jaxlo had the sense not to respond. I could sense her smoldering irritation, though it was tempered by pragmatism. The ruse had to be perfect. As we neared the station, the ship’s console pinged with an incoming transmission. Jaxlo accepted the holo call without ceremony. The figure that flickered into view identified himself as Vindicator Ultris—his tone clipped, military, and cold. Instructions were clear: land in bay J-14, use the discreet cargo container provided in the hangar, and administer the enclosed sedatives to us, the targets.

  Once the channel closed, I tilted my head toward Jaxlo. "Who was that?"

  He shrugged, eyes still on the controls. "Top man of the personal guards to Arnev, if I recall. Bunch of slimy mulchruks like their boss."

  I nodded silently, already shifting my breathing as I centered myself. A low hum of focus began to settle over me. Some of our Inquisitor training revolved around resisting toxins—gases, poisons, drugs. This would be the first real test. I let myself lean back, allowing the Force to steady my pulse and brace for the haze to come.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  We landed in a shadowed bay on the outskirts of the lower maintenance levels. A cargo cart was waiting for us—long, low, enclosed. Its matte black panels shimmered faintly under the station’s poor lighting, and the interior was unexpectedly cushioned. More luxury than prisoner transport.

  “Nice touch,” I muttered under my breath as I was guided in, with Jaxlo's help as my wrists were bound. Vos’la climbed in after me, and the other hunter outside pulled out the injectors and administered them. Stabbing each of us in the neck, and I could feel it begin to flow through my body instantly.

  A short hiss accompanied the injection—a minor sedative to keep us from doing anything until l we reached Arnev I'd imagine. For Vos’la, it worked instantly. Her breathing slowed, shoulders slumping as she slipped into a drugged sleep. For me, the effects were minimal, my connection to the Force insulating me. Dulling me slightly, but still alert. Still aware. I kept my eyes closed but ears peeled and senses as tuned into the surroundings as possible.

  The atmosphere of the station shifted as soon as we exited the docking bay. Vinkar Station wasn’t just any outpost—it was the arterial heart of the Hidolaran Heights, an underground tram hub connecting the four cities nestled beneath the ever-boiling skies of Nigiri’s northern hemisphere. The moment we passed into the station, I sensed its wealth in every layer—clean floors, reinforced bulkheads, climate regulation units humming perfectly in tune with the beat of the infrastructure. It was pristine, hyper-efficient, and carefully sterile—less out of care for the miners and more a byproduct of the massive wealth funneled through the station from constant resource extraction. The structure existed as a testament to the profits it moved, and Arnev’s influence was etched into every polished corridor and silent security camera.

  Various individuals bustled past as we were guided briskly through the wide, gleaming arrivals corridor. The space was immaculate, buzzing with the quiet efficiency of wealth-driven infrastructure. Just before reaching the main security checkpoint, my little pawn took a sharp turn into a side access, slipping us into the far less trafficked maintenance tunnels. The air grew warmer, more metallic, and the lighting dimmed to an amber industrial hue that cast long shadows across exposed piping and flickering wall panels.

  Wealthy merchants in tailored coats, likely conducting shady yet semi-public dealings, civilian contractors in sleek protective suits, and planetary logistics officers moving crates from tram to tram passed us without pause. They averted their eyes from the dark, unmarked cargo container gliding along beside them—silent acknowledgement of the kind of business best left unspoken. No one asked questions when a bounty hunter was involved, especially not one delivering to Arnev’s people.

  Jaxlo led us through the winding tunnels toward a dimly lit rendezvous point. The deeper we went, the more the sterile station gave way to gritty utility. At the junction, four security officers waited—calm, well-armed, and emanating that controlled tension I had grown used to detecting. Their fingers twitched near triggers, their eyes rarely blinked. They had all the posture of men told to expect trouble, even if they weren’t sure when it might come.

  One took the manifest without a word, flipping through it with unnecessary scrutiny. The others moved around the cart, scanning our bodies for any ID chips, our biosignatures, and opening the sides for visual confirmation. Their minds were guarded, but even through the muted fog of the sedative I could feel their suspicion—directed more at Jaxlo than at us.

  Sensing the shift, I focused through the Force and gave Jaxlo’s presence a subtle nudge—brushing his nerves with a wave of calm and reassurance, smoothing the rough edges of his already fraying confidence. He stood a little taller afterward, voice more even as he answered questions. It was a calculated risk, but we needed the exchange to go clean.

  Inside the cart, Vos’la stirred beside me. Her head tilted from one side and knocked gently against my ankle before she let out a low, barely audible groan. The sedative hadn’t fully knocked her out, it seemed.

  "Watch the boots, Kaa," I whispered dryly.

  She mumbled something unintelligible and promptly rolled the other direction.

  The guards finished their scans and nodded, passing datapads between themselves in efficient, silent fashion. One of them gave a curt gesture, and Jaxlo raised his wrist to glance at the holoprojector mounted there. A flash of blue light confirmed the incoming credit transfer. He smirked.

  "A pleasure doing business with ya chaps!" he said with a confident grin, stepping away from the cart with a swagger.

  But I felt it— the prickle of rising adrenaline in the guards' bodies. One of them reached slowly, carefully, for the blaster at his side the moment Jaxlo turned his back.

  A blaster bolt punched through his back before he took another two steps.

  He collapsed without uttering a sound, smoke curling from the entry wound as one of the officers holstered his weapon without comment.

  “Cargo secure,” the officer muttered, tapping his comm as if nothing had happened. "The hunter is dead, we're moving to your ship now, sir."

  The cart jolted into motion, carried by repulsors that hummed low and steady. Inside, I remained still, letting my head lean back as if sedated. Best to play the part when they open the box again.

  Vos’la lay beside me, truly unconscious this time as I skimmed her mind, only to feel the telltale blur of a sleeping life form.

  The repulsorlift cart hummed steadily through the narrow access tunnels, its vibrations sending subtle pulses through my senses. I kept my breathing even, my limbs slack, maintaining the fa?ade of unconsciousness while the Force heightened my awareness, painting the environment around me in ripples of energy and subtle echoes of life.

  We emerged into a smaller, private hangar—its design stark, utilitarian, and undeniably secure. The polished floor resonated with efficiency, energy flows neatly ordered through embedded conduits. At its center sat a vessel that immediately captured my attention through the Force; not a luxury yacht or a swift interceptor, but a heavily armored, imposing ship radiating strength and durability. It felt like a fortress given flight, layers of reinforced plating and redundant power cores humming quietly beneath its armored hull.

  The cart stopped at the vessel’s cargo ramp, its servos smoothly extending the platform to greet us. Guards surrounded our transport, quietly, methodically extracting Vos’la and me from the cushioned interior. The guards' nerves were sharp, disciplined, but beneath their cold exteriors lay a quiet tension—fear of failure, perhaps.

  As the cargo ramp sealed shut behind us, the ship’s environment changed subtly. The air was cooler, clean, sterile. I felt the shift in atmosphere clearly, a deliberate transition from station to ship. Another presence moved forward from within the depths of the vessel—a controlled, calm individual, his essence sharpened by years of calculated authority. Not a warrior, yet no less dangerous.

  Arnev Gornit approached without hesitation. I sensed potential lethality of the injector he held before I felt its cool tip press into the side of my neck. Instantly, I felt clarity returning fully, the residual fog from the sedative evaporating swiftly.

  “You can stop pretending, Inquisitor,” Arnev spoke, his voice cool, confident, tinged lightly with amusement. “You've been aware since you entered the little cart, haven’t you?”

  Slowly, I straightened, letting the stiffness fade from my muscles. I directed my senses fully towards him, perceiving his form clearly through the Force: the smooth, expensive fabric of his clothing, the careful precision of his posture, the well-maintained presence of authority that clung to him like a cloak. He radiated calculated intelligence, control, and subtle menace.

  Next to me, Vos’la stirred with a soft groan, the antidote rousing her from forced sleep. She rubbed at her temples, letting out a muttered string of curses as clarity returned to her thoughts. Her movements were cautious, tense, as she took in all the guards surrounding us.

  “Welcome aboard my personal vessel,” Arnev continued, folding his hands neatly behind his back. “I prefer to meet those reckless or courageous enough to seek me out personally. You seem to embody both qualities.”

  "The neophyte will remain here. Watch her," commanded Arnev Gornit as he turned to move deeper into the ship. I felt strong hands grip my shoulders and lift me from where I sat, my wrists still bound tightly in cuffs. One of the guards pushed me forward firmly, pressing the cold barrel of a blaster pistol between my shoulder blades.

  "Move along, Imperial scum!" barked the guard sharply, his voice immediately recognizable. Vindicator Ultris—the head security officer and Arnev’s chief enforcer.

  "Now, now, my friend," Arnev chided smoothly without turning around, his tone filled with controlled amusement. "There's no need to be rude to our guest."

  Ultris grunted and pushed me forward again, guiding me to a nearby turbolift. We ascended swiftly, and when the doors opened, I felt the plush carpet absorb the sound of my booted steps. The corridor was richly appointed, its quiet luxury evident in the precise arrangement of furnishings and art.

  "You spared no expense with this ship, did you?" I remarked dryly, taking in the controlled opulence through the Force. Arnev Gornit's presence in my mind conjured an image—a ruthless version of some fictional magnate, charming but deadly. All smiles and carefully maintained pleasantries. All he needed now was a cane, a pair of grandchildren, and perhaps a few man-eating lizard mutant frogs to complete the image.

  “A shame you can’t truly appreciate the art, Inquisitor,” Arnev said smoothly as we turned left from the lift and proceeded down a corridor lined with what I assumed were expensive decorative tapestries and pieces of art. “They’re from all over the galaxy. It would have been delightful to take a moment and see them for yourself.”

  “Maybe next time,” I replied with deliberate sarcasm.

  He chuckled softly as we entered a spacious room—a conference room, based on the layout of chairs around a small table. Arnev activated a set of security protocols, and I felt the room shift subtly as heavy shutters closed and locks engaged securely around us. “Captain Eclipse, begin takeoff procedures,” he ordered through a hidden comm device. The name gave me pause but I had no time to linger as Vindicator Ultris pushed me into a seat and took a position behind me. Arnev sat across the table, regarding me calmly before turning to Ultris. "You may leave us now, Ultris."

  Ultris hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. "Sir, this man destroyed the entirety of Bitoor's colony, your men—"

  Arnev raised one long-fingered hand sharply, cutting him off. "We all know precisely what this man has done. My spies were fully aware of the risks. As was he, when tasked to hunt an elusive informant for the growing resistance against the bloated golarnagash he serves." Arnev waved dismissively. "Leave us, or your contract will be terminated."

  Through the Force, I sensed Ultris' mood darken instantly, tension coiling in his muscles. Termination of contract likely included permanent retirement. After a moment’s hesitation, Ultris departed without another word.

  Once alone, I leaned forward, casually breaking the binders on my wrists with a subtle flex of the Force. They clattered onto the floor. "When Fulcrum mentioned you in that recording we found, I assumed you were just another arms dealer. Not…" I gestured around vaguely. "This."

  “You surprise me as well,” Arnev admitted coolly. “I knew you would come eventually, so I made preparations. Though I admit, your direct approach caught me off-guard.”

  I allowed myself a small, satisfied smile. "A bounty hunter fell into my lap. I improvised. Now here we are. You know who I want, Mr. Gornit. You know precisely what I'm capable of."

  Arnev's demeanor hardened, his voice lowering dangerously. “Indeed. That’s precisely why the woman is still in the cargo bay, guarded by expendable men. It's also why we're locked securely in this room." I felt the faint vibration of turrets powering up, explosives rigged to his chair’s controls. "One word from me and your associate will be thrown into the storms. Your stormtrooper reduced to charred debris. That murderous droid dismantled."

  He leaned closer, confident and smug. "Do not threaten me, Mr. Alonzo. I hold every card here. Although, given your Miralukan heritage, I doubt you've played much Sabaac."

  I suppressed my irritation at his remark and settled back, fingertips steepled thoughtfully. The Force shifted subtly around me, converging steadily, more noticeable than even during my confrontation with Kota.

  "You have almost everything," I admitted quietly. "But I have something you don't. I've grown tired of violence. Initially, I planned to wait until we reached your rumored compound, but this ship...it feels too much like a home. Too personal."

  "Astute observation for a blind man," he mocked softly. "But tell me, what could you possibly offer me?"

  I smiled slightly, feeling the Force flow freely around my next words. "Her name."

  The Bothan stammered, momentarily stunned before bursting into incredulous laughter. "You expect me to believe you possess information I don't? You might as well have handed me a blank deck and called it an Idiot's Array."

  "I prefer Pazaak," I responded calmly as his laughter subsided. "So, what will it be? I'm sure you had an offer planned, but frankly, I don’t have the patience to hear it. My time is limited, and I have more pressing matters."

  "Such an antiquated game, that," Arnev commented thoughtfully, his amusement fading into seriousness. "And what precisely would I gain from knowing Fulcrum's name?"

  "Leverage," I replied plainly. "Influence. Something to hold over her if she becomes too cautious, too secretive. I have no doubt after this meeting you will immediately reach out to her and attempt to curry favor with her and her larger network. But most importantly, I want her to know I'm coming."

  "She would simply vanish," Arnev countered calmly, clearly recognizing the truth in my assumption.

  "My orders are to find her—not eliminate her," I admitted, hesitating briefly. I'd kept this next part hidden even from Hal. "I plan to leave the Empire eventually. Doing so will endanger my friends and...a student of mine. When I run, I want them protected, safe, and free. For that, I’ll need allies, connections within this growing, fractured rebellion. Fulcrum is the key."

  I allowed my words to linger before adding, "I can even offer you something more, if circumstances permit."

  Arnev's curiosity peaked visibly. "Tell me about this student of yours. Why isn't he with you if you're training him?"

  A small laugh escaped me. "He's not a Padawan; we don't operate like the Jedi once did. Galen remains at our base, alongside other children his age."

  "Then why risk his safety? What drives you so desperately to run from—"

  I applied a subtle, controlled pressure through the Force, silencing him mid-sentence. "I tire of repeating myself. I despise the Empire and the task I've been given. The violence, the dark side—it wears you down, warps you into something you never wished to be. I refuse to let Galen become that. When I see my chance to escape, I’ll take it. I’ll ensure contingencies are in place to extract him, alongside any allies I’ve made."

  Arnev considered my words carefully, his emotions measured but transparent in the Force. "So, you desire my assistance in this grand plan of yours?"

  "I hadn't initially," I admitted, sincerity clear in my voice. "But learning about your resources and extensive spy network changes things. More of your people might fall in the coming years. But your assistance could alter outcomes significantly."

  He pondered deeply, weighing the offer. Meanwhile, I expanded my senses subtly, disabling the traps he’d laid around us, just in case.

  Finally, he stood, and I rose to meet him. "Very well," Arnev said decisively, extending his rough, paw-like hand toward me. "We have a deal."

  "Good," I replied, firmly shaking his hand. "Her name is Ahsoka Tano."