Boba Fett's ship was smoothly heading for Coruscant, or rather, its Lower Levels. He thought they would chase him, but no, apparently the cadet group leader decided that the pangs of conscience would be punishment enough for the traitor and did not pursue him. Boba himself, however, felt nothing of the sort, and his only emotion now was annoyance that he had failed to kill the hated Mace. At the same time, the teenager drew certain conclusions, such as that it was better not to go into such a venture alone, that he needed experienced and intelligent allies, and Bob already had a rough idea who they would be. After all, when his father was alive, he had often been in contact with other bounty hunters and mercenaries, and Bob knew many of them by sight. He also knew where to find them most easily. On the Lower Level of Coruscant, in one of the bars with loud music and cheap alcohol. Bob landed his ship in a shabby square and randomly entered the first establishment he came across, where a lively song popular among criminals was already playing at the entrance:
"Spring is in the air, the blizzards are over,
Open the gates, grey-haired master,
Spring is in the air, pain will be gone,
I'll return home along the familiar path.
Boba walked up to the door of this unpresentable bar, which was a low building with the main room underground. Outside, there was only a sign with the name: "The Womb of the Gandarka." At the entrance, playing with a paralysing blaster, stood a broad-shouldered Trandoshan in a green security guard uniform, shifting from foot to foot. This race was famous for having many mercenaries and bandits among its ranks, and only very few of them were sensitive to the Force. But this one clearly belonged to the majority, for his unkind, suspicious gaze spoke of great hatred for all lawbreakers, among whom he clearly included Bob when he approached.
"Hey, kid, this bar's rating is sixteen plus, what's yours? Don't say twenty, I won't believe you," the Trandoshan said mockingly when the teenager tried to enter.
"I'm here on business," Fett said as solemnly as he could. "They're waiting for me!"
"I wonder who's waiting for you? Seven with shovels and one with an axe, we know the type!" laughed the bouncer. "Now get out of here, you snotty little brat!"
And the Trandoshan had already grabbed the teenager by the collar, ready to throw him out the door, when suddenly...
"Let him go, Puch!" a high, menacing voice rang out. "This boy came with me!"
Bob turned and saw a very tall, thin young woman with deathly pale skin and dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail, and a thin antenna for external communication visible at her right temple. Her huge eyes looked at him with obvious condescension.
"Orra, I didn't think you'd sunk so low as to switch to teenagers," Puch laughed again. "I thought you liked older men. Me, for example.
With that, the Trandoshan moved closer to Orra and tried to kiss her, pushing his green lips forward. The woman pulled away sharply and grimaced in disgust.
"Get away from me, Puch. Just because you got lucky once and I got so drunk that I couldn't remember anything the next morning doesn't mean you own me. Don't even dream about continuing this.
"I wasn't dreaming at all, I just wanted to say that you can take your son with you, if he's not mine, of course!" The guard laughed heartily, and Bob recognised her immediately. It was Orra Sing, one of Jango Fett's closest allies. She put her arm around the boy's shoulder and led him unhindered into the bar.
"What happened to you, Bob? And why are you alone?" Orra asked when they found a quiet spot.
"Orra, I need help urgently. I've decided to avenge my father and I want you to help me," the boy confessed honestly. In the world of mercenaries, directness was welcomed. "I'll pay you well," he added for good measure, patting the pocket where his credit cards lay.
"Well, I think we can help you, kid," Orra said when they reached the last table in the row against the wall, where two other mercenaries Bob knew were sitting — a Trandoshan named Bossk and a Clatuunian named Castas. Both had already made a name for themselves, although they weren't particularly intelligent. They both perked up a bit when they saw that Orra had not come alone. Satisfied smiles appeared on their dull, well-fed faces, and they even put down their beer mugs and stood up to greet their friend's son.
"Hey, kid, how's your dad? Has he been writing to you from the other side?
"Shut up, both of you!" Orra snapped at them. "He's got real problems, and we'll get real money for solving them! So, are you with us, or do I need to find someone else?"
The two mercenaries put down their empty mugs again, which clattered against each other and almost flew off the edge of the table. Thinking was clearly not their strong suit, so they didn't pay much attention to it, preferring to live by their instincts, which had picked up on the most important part — Orra was offering big bucks, enough to buy lots of booze and snacks and pick up the hottest girls. This overcame all doubts, and the Clatwinian and the Trandoshan shouted in unison:
"We agree!
"Great, guys, now let's talk business," said Orra, sitting down on a free chair, leaning back independently and crossing her legs. She felt like the boss, and, in fact, she was.
"Sit down and tell us," Sing Bob ordered, pulling up a chair for him. The boy sat down, somewhat intimidated by the unfamiliar surroundings. Orra placed her hand encouragingly on his shoulder and told him to be brave, that he could always count on her support. And young Fett began to tell his story, long and in detail, mercilessly exaggerating, and soon all three mercenaries began to think that the boy was right and that there was no one in the entire galaxy more despicable than the notorious Mace Windu. This was helped by the fact that they had spent a lot of time with Jango and had experienced his death in their own way. After all, it is only assumed that mercenaries don't care about each other, but in reality they had something like a code of honour that called on them to avenge one of their own. There was only one thing they didn't like:
"You're a brave kid, Boba," said Bossk when he fell silent. "But you rushed into this alone, you should have come to us right away.
"Yes, that's right," agreed Castas. "Now Windu knows he's being hunted and will be more suspicious, which means it will be harder to get him. He's a Jedi, after all. His comrades will come to his aid.
"That's unlikely," Orra objected. "Jedi never stoop to revenge. We just need to wait until he's alone and find a place where he won't expect a trap.
They believed her immediately, for Orra knew the rules of the Order firsthand. She had once been a member herself, a student of an experienced and secretive Master named the Black Woman. However, she left due to disagreements with her comrades and a tendency toward the Dark Side. But she did not become a Sith, preferring instead to become a mercenary, free and unbound by anyone, and she never regretted her decision. For example, the skills she had acquired earlier now came in very handy. Using her sensitivity to the Force, Orra was able to sneak into the Jedi Temple and, hiding behind a column, learn that Mace was currently free and about to fly to the Venator to search the wreckage of the ship for surviving clones and Admiral Killian, and at the same time find some clues about the escaped Boba.
"Find and neutralise," he said to himself as he approached the hangar, while Orra rubbed her hands together with glee. Everything turned out to be much easier than expected. Boss would plant a bomb in the wreckage, Castas would keep an eye on the clones they had taken hostages just in case, and she, Orra, would stand on guard and make sure everything went according to plan, and if it didn't, she would simply finish off the survivors. There was a slight complication, though — another ally had gone with Mace — that nosy Knight Tano. Why her? Because the Council ordered it. And why did it order her? It simply hoped that her keen senses would be more helpful in finding the enemy. Despite her terrible temper, coupled with her inability and unwillingness to interact with others, no one had revoked her status as the chosen one.
"All right, girl, it's not your fault," muttered Orra, leaving her plan unchanged. "The forest is being cut down, and the chips are flying, as my friends from Kashika said. My dear dead friends.
Now all that remained was to hope that the explosives would not fail and would go off when needed and in whose hands they were meant to be. But something went wrong...
***
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