Ultrabountyhunter

10 BBY Vaklin Berilyn drummed her fingers as she stood behind the counter of Djon’s pastry stall, the smell of sweet buns and cakes wafting in through the door behind her, making her mouth water. For the past couple of months, she had taken up a part-time job helping Djon sell his goods. Of course, he wouldn’t let her help in the kitchen, not after that small incident where she had burned the last batch of sweesonberry rolls. …And almost set the bakery on fire. Okay, so she wasn’t much of a baker, but she could staff a counter just fine. It was simple enough work, and she liked talking to the customers; they were mostly people she had known for years. “Good afternoon. Any sweet rolls left?” Berilyn supressed a grimace. Well, she liked talking to most customers. Major Namada was perhaps the only exception, and to Berilyn’s annoyance, Namada tried to stop by once a day, and always ordered the same thing. Though it practically pained her to do so, Berilyn forced a wide smile to her

Orax He stared down at his newly gained hands in complete awe, opening and closing his fingers experimentally. He felt like he could do this all day, just look at his hands flexing like that, feeling the servomotors clench and unclench. But then if he did that, he would miss out on all of the other wonders that this wonderful new sense, sight would offer. Hesitantly, he peeled his photoreceptors away and turned his gaze to the landscape of Orax. The area was grey and rocky, dotted with steaming hot springs, around which grew hundreds of green, crystalline protrusions. My people, he thought, his mind reeling at seeing his brethren for the first time. Is this really what we look like? We seem so…so small! Tentatively, he reached out a bronzium hand to touch them. Instantly, there was a faint but unmistakable burst of light exploding out of them, first the one closet to him, then they all began to brighten up, one by one. He leaned in closer, desperate to get a closer look at the

19 BBY Vaklin “Her fever has eased and her breathing is regular now. I can’t say for certain, but I believe she will survive.” The blue hand that had been placed on her forehead lifted. Weakly, she raised her arm in an attempt to pull it back, only for her limb to fall back into place. She felt much better than she had in weeks, she was no longer shivering and burning up, and it no longer felt like her airway was as wide as a straw. But she was still so weak, that even that small movement was taxing, and her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to keep them open. Her mother leaned down over her and pressed her lips to her forehead. “Rest, sweetie, you’re fine now.” Very faintly, she was aware of her parents and the visitor leaving her bedroom, but they hovered near the door. In her drained state, her hearing wasn’t much better than her other senses, but she could still hear what was being said, if only just. “Thank you! Thank you!” She heard her mother sob. “We don’t have

2 BBY Dubrava system Copper Sedrend sat behind the controls of his MorningStar-A starfighter, bouncing his legs up and down quickly to try and stave off numbness. The waiting was always the worst part, just sitting in the cramped cockpit got him more agitated than dogfights ever did. At least there was a sense of thrill then, trading laserfire and outmanoeuvring missiles. Copper’s orange eyes flicked around the slightly rusted out ship, the monitors stricken with faint image burn. Well, given this ship’s condition, I might just blow up before the fighting starts. It was an old ship, pre-Clone Wars old in fact. Still, its obsolescence certainly made it cheaper than a brand new, top of the line ship, and despite its age, it was a perfectly capable starfighter, minor issues aside. “Get ready, boys, they’re scheduled to drop in at any second,” the squadron commander, Blawndee Ucot said over the comms. Copper winced at the staticky burst of noise that half-droned out his leader’s

0 ABY Imperial I-class Star Destroyer Hecatomb Her first memory was of screaming. Her screams, her brother’s, her parents, as the Stormtroopers carried her and her sibling off into their shuttle. The actual events were hazy, but the screams, they were as clear as day. She dreamed about it most nights, but those first screams were always quickly drowned out by others. The tortured cries and shouts of those unfortunate enough to come face to face with her. She had learned the most effective methods to draw out information from the prisoners, practiced many times back on the Citadel Inquisitorius on Prakith. Those had been hard years, Prakith was a harsh world, and the Citadel Inquisitorius more so. Still, at least she had learned valuable skills. The quickest and most effective ways of interrogation were through the Force, or even with certain mind altering drugs. But the slower, messier ways…well, they were just more satisfying. She went by the name Dusk. Her real name was

The future is always in motion, it is a difficult thing to see. Perhaps there will be no new age, Mandalore, no great Mandalorian crusade. Perhaps your people fought their last battle at Malachor V, and you have been dying ever since, a quiet death that will last centuries. And perhaps all that remains will be what I see before me: a man, wounded by a Jedi, encased in a Mandalorian shell, haunted by the thought of being the last of the Mandalorians. -Kreia 41 ABY Mandalore It was a slow day in the Oyu’baat, with only a handful of patrons gracing the ancient cantina. The pot of stew that simmered over the fire was said to have been the same broth that had been cooking since the Mandalorian Wars. At least it had been, until one of those traitor Kelborns had kicked it over, calling it a symbol of Mandalorian stagnation. Baltan Carid, a regular, scowled at the memory, Clan Kelborn always had been a pack of shabuire, even before they had refused to accept Fett as their Mand’alor and

“It was real nice of the fishermen to let me keep these clothes, huh?” Chessa asked as she examined the overly-large jacket she was wearing. The sleeves completely swallowed up her hands and flapped around whenever she moved her arms. “Well, I think they were just eager to get us off their boat,” Uster replied as they walked down the pier. After being on the ocean for so long, it really was a relief to get back to dry land. Chessa had looked so happy that Uster was half-convinced that she was going to drop down and kiss the ground. Maybe she was saving that for when they got off the ferrocrete dock and onto actual soil. They had come ashore at a small fishing village called Seashell Bay. It was just large enough to have a spaceport, but there was little else of note beside that. Quaint, but rusted and salt-corroded buildings lined the street. A small garrison of Imperial troopers kept the peace, and Uster and Chessa stared as a chicken-legged AT-DP lumbered down the street.

Y164 Slave transport, Brezak The three of them cautiously walked through the halls of the ship, Grahrk in the lead, Destroyer close behind him and Ketya in the rear, her hands on his belt. So far, they hadn’t run into anymore Zygerrians, it seemed Destroyer was right and the majority of them were still aboard the Point of Light. It certainly made things easier for them, but a part of Destroyer felt nervous, it felt wrong not to see his enemies. Things had certainly felt so much simpler on Geonosis, battle droids were so much more direct. “Are you sure this is the right way, Grahrk?” Destroyer asked. He kept his head facing straight ahead, one eye on the Devaronian and the other on Ketya, watching her through the camera in the back of his helmet. “Please, Villie knows his way around ships like these, have been on plenty.” Grahrk paused, casting a quick glance around a corner. “Though, admittedly never as a prisoner.” Destroyer couldn’t help but cringe. Every time Grahrk opened

The four of them walked to the rendezvous point, feeling distinctly conspicuous in their costumes. It had been easy enough for Beedle to make himself look presentable, all he had to do was ditch the sheet and chains he was carrying. For the rest of them, however, there was no such luck, they had no time to scrape off their face paint or change, they would have to get straight into their flightsuits. Chessa felt her face turn bright red as the mechanics turned to face her, although at least her painted cheeks covered up the blush. Of course, it wasn’t her they were staring at, for the most part. Arra, in all her half-naked glory had the mechanics do double takes as she walked by some of them were slack jawed and openly staring. Chessa couldn’t really blame them, she doubted they had ever seen a Themian in a metal bikini stroll through their hangar before. Arra didn’t seem to be too bothered by it, and Chessa wondered if she was hiding her embarrassment, or she truly didn’t care about

Themis 2 BBY A lone Themian starfighter dropped out of hyperspace and into the orbit of the blue-green planet of Themis. Inside the cockpit sat a young woman, her brown eyes flicking across the read-outs and controls of her ship. Beneath her flight helmet, her long, pointed ears twitched, as if trying to hear a sound that she knew she could not hear through the vacuum of space. “Alright, Party Girl, what have you got for me?” She asked, her gaze fixated on a circular screen in front of her. After a moment, text began to rapidly flow across it. Nothing as of yet, Arra. Arra Sugi frowned and bit her lip, surprised by what her astromech was telling her. “Nothing? That can’t be right, you sure about that?” All scans are negative. Arra moved from chewing her lip to the inside of her cheek. “But that doesn’t make any sense. This isn’t a-?” It was at precisely that moment that a Munificent-class star frigate dropped out of hyperspace and loomed ominously in front of her. “Oh,