Solo missions

[Fiach Dubh]

The cart the Padawan’s makeshift cage was perched on lurched to a halt. They’d been travelling for days – twelve to be precise. Fiach stood and looked around – the familiar desert stretched in every direction but one. Ahead was some kind of fortress, out here in the wastelands.

One of the troopers approached the temporary prison and unlocked the bars that represented a door. He stepped back and Fiach slowly moved forward and jumped down. She could not run, or Norma would die. She could not fight, or Norma would die. So, she acquiesced.

Surprisingly, a second trooper walked over to them and fished an object out of a bag that was slung over his shoulder. He tossed it to Fiach who caught it and gave the trooper a look of surprise.

“Liima figured you might need this,” he said and walked away.

Fiach surveyed the scene. The prison truck was part of a convoy of three. The second vehicle contained twenty or so troopers. The third was clearly the Hutt’s personal transport.

Fiach walked across to it. “What’s the plan,” she said to a set of curtains she could sense the Hutt was behind.

“WE APPROACH THE GATES. YOU CONVINCE THE GUARDS TO LET US IN AND THE TROOPERS DO THE REST.”

Fiach sighed audibly and began to walk over to the fortress.

 

[Fiach Dubh]

Ten minutes later, she was standing in front of double doors made of durasteel that were some twenty-feet high. The walls were constructed of stone and no doubt just as impenetrable.

In front of her, a video screen flickered into life. “State your business,” said a human’s face.

“Jedi Order business,” Fiach stated, matter-of-factly and stepped back, opening the flap of her cloak to reveal her saber hilt.

The screen shot down and Fiach wondered if she’d have to hammer on the door to get their attention again – when, to her surprise, the doors began to vibrate and then slowly open, disappearing into the walls on either side.

“That was easy,” she said out loud. “Too easy,” she added, under her breath.

 

[Fiach Dubh]

Once inside, it was clear there was little to see, as the walls surrounded a huge courtyard with only a small structure made of durasteel in the centre – maybe a few metres across.

The rest of the caravan entered the space and the huge gates slowly closed behind them.

Theatrically, the curtains of the Hutt’s vehicle were drawn apart and the familiar laugh of Liima filled the air. Clearly Fiach had worked some sort of magic to gain them entry – although the Padawan was at a loss as to what she was truly needed for. Maybe they held Jedi in particularly high esteem?

From the small building, troopers emerged – one after another – until they numbered a hundred, clearly the structure led underground.

The Hutt’s laughter still echoed and she summoned Fiach through the translator.

As Fiach made to move, one of the fortress troopers put a hand on her arm – gently but with enough force to ensure she knew it was deliberate. “We’ll take care of this,” he said and walked over to the Hutt.

He faced Liima and now it was his turn to laugh. “You think it was your slaver friend who hired you?”

Fiach saw a look of surprise spread across the Hutt’s face. Either that or she was suffering from indigestion.

“We have been trying to get you out of your stronghold for too long. Nothing would get you out, not even the promise of a fabled weapon. No, we needed to give you hope that you could not fail. The sort of hope a Jedi might present.”

He turned to Fiach. “Yes, we used you. But to a good end.”

Fiach sensed the tension grow and blasters were raised, lowered and raised again.

“The Hutt is ours now. None of you will be slaves any more. And the Jakku arm of the slave trade will be closed down for good.”

The weapons were lowered again, and the Hutt began to wail. She implored her troopers to defend her – but her cries fell on deaf ears.

 

[Fiach Dubh]

The trooper finally returned to Fiach and gestured she followed him inside the small building. Before she could speak, he reassured her that Norma would be immediately released.

Entering the structure, Fiach saw what she expected – steps leading down. Finally, they reached a durasteel corridor that lead onto a number of doors.

The trooper led them to a room and when the door was opened, they saw a table, chairs and a sumptuous buffet. Norma did not wait to be asked and eschewed a plate – and instead picked up food and stuffed it straight into her mouth.

The trooper now removed his helmet to reveal a chiselled jaw and a short salt and pepper haircut.

“Thanks for the tip-off,” he said.

When Fiach’s eyebrows knitted, he carried on.

“That slaver on Klatooine was high up the food chain but not the whole picture. We’ve been systematically working with planetary governments to close the network down. Liima here was the hardest to get to. She never comes out of that warren of tunnels and was impossible to get to. We needed to get her out in the open and you were the key to unlocking the door. Your superiors were agreeable to the plan, but felt it necessary not to tell you.”

Fiach nodded. Others might take umbrage, but not the young blonde. It was not about the end justifying the means – but rather the needs of many outweighing the need of the one. “I both understand and approve. And thank you, you did well.”

The trooper gestured to the food. “Best to get some while it’s still there,” he chuckled.

Fiach smiled in return, then bowed and finally walked over and poured herself out a glass of cool water, sipping it slowly until she’d drunk the lot.