Star Wars - Reputation by Ari Marmell

Author:Ari Marmell
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-10-02T01:22:23+00:00

“Right. Think I’ve seen about enough, then.”

Two faces, one hooded and one furred, twitched around as the bounty hunter stepped calmly into the security chamber. Ur’etu made a peculiar gurgling in his throat, gesturing madly toward the Jedi with one paw while the other continued to grab futilely at his own neck.

The Duros watched the Jedi’s arm shift beneath his robes, saw the indecision on the man’s face, and offered a broad, sharp-toothed grin. “Don’t mind me. I got no intention of interfering. By all means, finish up.”

One wouldn’t have thought the suffocating Bothan’s eyes could bulge any wider. One would have been wrong. Ur’etu, boss of the Skar’kla Consortium, died staring in horrified rage at the blue-skinned bounty hunter.

“Now,” the bounty hunter began as the body slumped to the floor, “let’s you and me talk a minute.”

“What about?” Even had the Jedi’s words not swum in a soup of suspicion, the hand he rested on the hilt of his lightsaber would have been indicator enough.

“Mostly about how you faked all…” Long blue fingers waved idly at the room in general. “All this.”

The hand on the lightsaber shaft tightened.

“I don’t recommend it, son. Not even a Jedi’d be fast enough—and we both know you’re no Jedi.”

The man’s answering hiss of astonished anger led into the louder hiss of plasma, the lightsaber blade once more snapping on to bathe him in a faint green glow…

And just as swiftly shut down as a blaster bolt tore through the shaft, sending metal shrapnel, burnt wiring, and crystalline shards tearing through cloth and, in a few painful instances, skin.

“Stolen lightsaber, right?” the bounty hunter continued, as casually as if discussing the latest slingball match. “Extra haft makes it easier to wield without leaving a few of your own limbs behind, that one’s obvious. What else you got?”

The “Jedi” leapt, clearing the control panels and half the chamber in a bound, heading toward the fallen Weequay and—presumably—his weapons.

“The boots, right. Impressive.” A second blaster bolt flew, piercing miniature engine, leather, and flesh alike. Smoke, so thick it was almost a fluid, gushed from the human’s right heel. Propelled only by the other, now, his leap veered off course, slamming him into the wall with a bone-bruising crunch. He slid to the floor, groaning. “Smallest personal jet I’ve seen was 30-kilo pack,” the Duros told him, gesturing idly with the pistol. “You’re lucky I made that shot, by the way. I don’t typically practice shooting to wound.”

Fingers shaking, the supposed Jedi raised a hand once more. The blaster quivered in the hunter’s hand, then began to pull away.

“Mono-filament cable with a magnetic grapple?” The bounty hunter yanked, and the wounded man slid across the floor, dragged by his own wrist. “Probably looked just like the Force to that scared Bothan idiot when you snagged his blaster.” The human fetched up against the hunter’s feet with a pained gasp.

“And the suffocation. Let me see…” He bent low, studying the other’s wrist gauntlets. “Gas emitter. Wouldn’t recommend trying that, not with you and me so close.

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