The cantina door swung open before me. Kuro remained outside… The place turned out to be very lively. Assorted sentients of all kinds and tribes scurried about, mostly carrying snacks and alcohol… A standard bar serving drinks. Behind the counter stood a perfectly ordinary Twi'lek serving drinks. As soon as I entered, some — I suspect not the most socially adept — characters sized up the newcomer. I sensed wariness from others, though I wasn't particularly strong in empathy. I slightly straightened my suit but didn't remove my hood. Why did Kuro bring me to this cantina? A second later, a message came to my datapad… Ah, here one of the groups heading for the krayt dragon was being assembled.
Very interesting. But apparently she sent a message with the assumption, worded: "A group for the krayt dragon might be assembling here." Not by chance in that form — surely so that I would find the group myself and decide whether to work with them or not. Scanning the cantina again, I could make out about twenty sentients belonging — Yoda knows — to various groups that could hypothetically be involved in the hunt. A krayt dragon is no house cat. Not everyone will dare challenge creatures that could grow up to thirty meters long and cut through durasteel with their claws. Dangerous little lizards…
So first, I should gather information about what's going on here. Talk to people… and not just the HoloNet, where they've probably already embellished, inflating its size to a good kilometer… What can you do — the internet is a dump. In the sense that all kinds of rumors take root there. Okay… According to the laws of the universe, all rumors in a cantina, tavern, bar — accumulate around the alcohol seller. Taking a calm breath, I walked to the counter, crossing the entire room. I sat down at the bar and began studying the menu. Out of pure interest. Hmm… I think I need to order something, for appearances. Only something low-alcohol, or completely non-alcoholic… Do they have juice? I wouldn't want to get drunk on a mission, though I could use a Force technique to flush out toxins.
"They say," I began when the bartender approached me. The blue-skinned Twi'lek gave me his attention. "A krayt dragon has been spotted here…"
"I don't work with droids," the bartender told me.
"Droids?" I raised my eyebrows. "How did you determine that?"
"Show your face, kid. The rules in my cantina are the same for everyone. While you're anonymous — no service."
"How interesting," I smiled under my hood. "And what about those guys?"
The only ones who had paid me any attention — and only with a brief appraising scan — were the Mandalorians sitting near the exit. They sat in their helmets, not removing them.
"They're an exception," the bartender noted. "Mandalorians. And who are you? I don't know you."
"Tatooine is a dump where all sorts of scum gather," I noted with a heavy sigh. "Does it matter who I am? I asked you a question. And I'm even willing to pay a bit extra, say, for the fourth item," I nodded at the drink menu. There was a fruit juice that tasted to me like apple. I love apple juice.
"Maybe you'll give me more?" came a cocky voice from my left. "That suit of yours is expensive, and I could use the money."
"So?" ignoring the troublemaker, I continued talking to the bartender.
He handed me a glass, and I started drinking.
"Billy, that's enough," the bartender tried to rein in the insolent man, then turned to me. "Those who don't like taking off their helmets — they were talking about going after the krayt dragon. But you're all madmen. It's an ancient beast from the Dune Sea. It even has a name… the Ghost of the Dune Sea. Countless sentients have been lost because of it."
"Is that so?" I asked, finishing my juice.
"Yes. About twenty-five meters long, they say, and a good fifteen meters tall! And it's been alive for about two hundred years. No one has survived an encounter with that monster…"
"If no one survived, then where do the rumors come from?" I asked a reasonable question. "Either way, thanks for the info," I slapped a substantial tip on the counter for this place. It was already noticeable that the planet was sliding under the Hutts. So they respected peggats here. My mentor and I had already converted part of our financial resources into peggats. Just in case. The Hutts are extremely powerful gangsters… Perhaps such groups don't belong in the Galaxy, as they seriously hinder the Republic's development — through corruption, drug trafficking, slavery, piracy, and smuggling. But the problem is, whenever the Jedi could have destroyed all their groups, there was always a "bigger" enemy in the form of yet another Sith Empire. And when the Sith Empire was dealt with again, the Jedi for the most part somehow didn't pay attention — or did, but only to the most blatant ones.
"Listen, kid," Billy grabbed my shoulder, "don't you get it?" This man with a cocky, tanned face, dressed in less-than-presentable clothes, was clearly picking a fight. "Don't you know I asked you to share your money?! I'm the best shot in twelve surrounding systems!"
"Was," I said simply.
"What?" the man asked.
"I said: you were the best shot." An instant, and a green beam from my lightsaber severed both hands from that idiot. "If you don't find money for prosthetics — and I highly doubt trash like you will — you'll never be a shot again. Good day, Billy."
The man fell to his knees, staring at his hands and sobbing like a child.
"He asked for it himself. I was within my rights," I told the bartender, returning my lightsaber to its place.
"Y-yes, Master Jedi…"
Why hadn't he spotted my lightsaber initially? Because I'd been clever. While we flew, I not only trained with Lorm but also made a second vambrace for my right arm. On it, I attached the lightsaber mount and concealed the entire mechanism with the lightsaber under an extra sheath, like a sleeve. So, until I summon the lightsaber with the Force and activate it, no one knows I'm a Jedi. Snorting, I moved toward the Mandos. This time, the cantina was more… cautious in following my movements. One thing was some random sentient in a hood. Another thing was a Jedi — or not a Jedi, but clearly a lightsaber-wielding Force user. There were four Mandalorians. Each sat in their helmet, though each had a drink, but as usual — "to-go," meaning they'd drink somewhere else, away from everyone. Their armor didn't differ much. Among them was one woman, judging by the protruding part of the armor, and three men.
"Mando…"
"What do you want, Jedi?" the woman asked. Her voice was as neutral as possible.
"I heard you folks want to go after a krayt dragon. I wanted to offer my help…"
"Just like that," one of the men chuckled. "Do you know anything besides cutting off drunks' hands in cantinas?"
"Apparently, you need 'something substantial'…"
"Listen, boy," the woman spoke again, "each of us has ten years of combat experience. We've killed and protected all kinds. And you, apparently, are a teenager, albeit with a funny toy."
A funny toy? Not all their armor elements were made of beskar. In general, beskar is rare. Only the elite among Mando could afford such armor. I haven't yet reforged Teyron's armor into guards and a hilt for my lightsaber (author's note: I already spoiled that the MC will be a two-bladed fencer. But the MC doesn't know that yet, so he speaks of the hilt in the singular). But any Force user is much stronger than an ordinary person. And though everything can be achieved with training — almost everything — I could wipe the floor with their squad.
"I'm not looking for a fight," I raised my hands. "Just allies. With a fair split of the spoils."
"If you want allies, talk to them," the previously silent man nodded toward the other sentients in the cantina. "We work separately from kids who think too highly of themselves." His armor had the most beskar elements.
"So I'm not worthy?"
"You can buy us… But that would cost a lot," the woman chuckled.
"You refused to work with me at the level of an alliance," I shook my head, "because you think I'm not worthy of you. But tell me, for goodness' sake," I grinned. "Have you heard of a Mandalorian named Teyron Jarps?"
"Suppose," the last speaker summarized. "Many have heard of him."
"And have you heard that he died not long ago on some little planet? And do you know who sent him to the next world?"
"Want to say it was you?" the woman laughed.
"Don't you believe me, dear lady?" I asked caustically. "I can show you his helmet."
"I don't see where you're going with this, boy," the Mandalorian stood up. "So you have some of Teyron's stuff. Probably someone from your Order chopped him to pieces. But what does that give us?"
"You forgot how the conversation started," I countered. "The dear lady said you've been killing and working for ten years. And called me a child with a funny toy. Isn't Teyron Jarps proof that I'm a serious ally?"
"As I said, someone else could have killed him. And yes, what makes you think that I — his little brother — would work with the man who killed my brother?"
"Well, that's awkward," I said.
"However, you didn't know about me, and I've hated my brother since birth. And his whole philosophy about the beast and the warrior — what's that worth," the Mando summarized. "All right. What do you want from the krayt dragon, Jedi?"
"A pearl," I answered simply. "Do you know about the Force, Jarps?"
"Jacob…"
"Jacob Jarps," I corrected myself. "So: the Force shows me that on Tatooine I must find something for my lightsaber. There haven't been any kyber crystal deposits here since the creation of the Galaxy. But krayt dragon pearls work for that. I'll take a few: all the ones that resonate with my Force. Even those who aren't Gifted can understand that easily. You'll just see the crystals glowing brightly near me. At least, that's how the pearls react. I'm taking them... maybe I'll also take a bit of krayt dragon hide for a cloak. It's reportedly twenty-five meters long and fifteen meters tall. The rest is yours: fangs, claws, the remaining hide, organs, the pearls I don't need."
"He speaks smoothly, this Jacob," said the last member of the group.
"He killed your brother," said the woman, rising.
"Vanda, not now," Jacob cut in. "You wanted to kill Teyron yourself too."
"I wanted to kill him myself! But certainly not so that some Jedi would kill him... or his mentor."
"Enough," Jacob interrupted her. He was clearly the group's leader. "Fine. Having a Gifted's support could be useful. Though I wouldn't mind seeing the full range of your skills so I know what to count on. I'm Jacob Jarps. The woman's name is Vanda — she's nice when she's not thinking about my brother. To my right is Hori, he loves everything related to bladed weapons," he nodded toward a rather tall man in armor. "To my left is Bombur. He can be summed up in one phrase: what if I blow up a quarter to kill one sentient."
"Hey!" the previously silent man exclaimed. "I'm not to blame for that situation! Hori didn't do the reconnaissance right. Who knew they also had a fuel warehouse there."
"Shut up, that was your mistake, the Great Winds witness," Hori replied.
"The Great Winds?" I asked.
"Heard of that religion?"
"I was raised... among them," I lowered my hood.
"Oh, almost a countryman," Hori nodded.
"And yet you're a child," Vanda concluded.
"It doesn't matter what you think of me," I said. "I've stated what I want. Do you agree to join forces with me, or not?"
"Besides us with you," Jacob replied, "two more groups are setting out from this city. And besides this city, they say hunters are gathering in Mos Espa too. They decided to attack a true relic after all."
"What's the big fuss about?"
"The whole problem was with the Hutts," Hori replied. "Apparently they had a gangster feud among themselves, in one of the families over an inheritance. A brother, or sister — whoever they consider themselves — was killed by their brother/sister. The corpse was dumped into the Dune Sea, and afterward it was announced that he died on a hunt, because of a dragon."
"They want to preserve their reputation?"
"At least the appearance of it," Hori nodded. "Killing relatives, you know, is frowned upon among many peoples. Unless the relative completely lost it... In short, the Hutts promised a huge bounty for the krayt dragon's head."
"The head, for example, doesn't interest me at all," I noted.
"All the better," Jacob clasped his fingers in front of him, "but I hope you'll be ready to kill any sentients who get bold enough to go after our prey."
"The Force usually reveals only what you're ready for," I answered vaguely. "It can't be any other way. But I have vague doubts. There are only five of us."
"Our squad bets on quality and mobility," came from Bombur. "So I hope you won't be a burden, since our leader decided to take you in. What's your name, by the way, Jedi?"
"Light. Light Flyingstar," I introduced myself. "From the planet Tustra," I looked at Hori.
"I noticed the braid on you. You're a Padawan. Where's your Master?" Jacob asked. "Or are you a runaway?"
"No," I shook my head. "Your brother sent my first master to the next world with a kinetic weapon," I looked into the younger Jarps' visor. "My second master, however, adheres to the principle of maximum freedom. She might intervene if she sees things are going badly for us."
"Understood. Then be ready. We leave tomorrow at dawn. Meeting on the southern outskirts of the city, Light Flyingstar, Jedi Padawan," Jacob concluded, stepping out from behind the table. This time, all his comrades left with him. "And here's my contact," he showed me a way to get in touch. "Set your communicator for the mission duration so I can contact you. As for our plan — we'll sort it out on the way."
"Until then," I glanced at the datapad and checked what time dawn was tomorrow in Mos Eisley. "Hey, bartender," I called to the Twi'lek. "Can I get a fourth portion? And larger? And something meaty, with a good sauce."
"Yes, yes, we'll bring it right away, Master Jedi!"
Sitting down where the Mandalorians had been, I started scouring the HoloNet for any information that could help us win.
"So," the Dark Woman appeared right in front of me. "You found yourself allies right away."
"Hm," I looked calmly at my mentor.
"The same for me," she asked the service droid.
Service droids don't serve, but waiter droids exist. Double standards, even on the outer rim of the Galaxy.
"Mandalorians," I savored the name of the people. "Warriors almost by birth. If you're going to take anyone as allies, it's them. At least they know how to fight best."
"I have a couple of complaints," Kuro clicked her lips, then pulled her hood even lower. "Especially about their numbers. Although Mandalorians have proven more than once that quality matters. The Krayt Dragon isn't an opponent where quality can win. Besides your group, two more companies will be operating from this city. One of them has as many as thirty armed-to-the-teeth mouths... You've already cut off the hands of one of them..."
"Then it's already twenty-nine," I smiled, closing the page in the HoloNet that I'd read for the twentieth time, and started eating.
"And there will also be mercenaries here who work directly for Jabba the Hutt..."
"It wouldn't be good if we enter into confrontation with them," I noted.
"That's exactly why I want you to be more attentive and not make mistakes. It seems the Galaxy has already shown you what happens if you don't take things seriously..."
"Yes," I said bitterly. "If there's one thing the Galaxy knows how to do, it's delivering lessons."
"All the better. I'll be watching your progress," she smirked, then disappeared. Teleportation? Wait? A note? What do you mean — I'm paying? That won't do!
"Hey, bartender," ten minutes later I finished my food, which consisted of a steak of local fauna and something resembling tomato sauce. "Pay for me..."
"Uh..."
"For the lady — send the bill to Hangar 60, the ship 'Star Trek', in the name 'Jedi Knight An'ya Kuro'... And if they say there's no such person there, she also goes by 'Dark Woman'. That's all. Goodbye," I left the establishment and went to explore the city. I was especially interested in the southern outskirts, as well as the location of our competitors... Right! Why not cause them some trouble? The Mandalorians won't go after them because they're loud. But I've already used my abilities to infiltrate facilities covertly.
* * *
So. Mercenaries... I decided to start with Billy's mercenary company. I cut off both hands of one of them — Billy himself. Now there are twenty-nine. And none of them will come after me now, since they're supposed to go after the dragon tomorrow. That means — they don't have time for me. Plus — I'm a Jedi. Why mess with me? So, I tracked their patrols. The mercenary camp was on the southern outskirts. I could, of course, cut down the remaining twenty-nine. But why cause unnecessary commotion? Besides, during the cutting, there's a high chance I'd get detected in the relatively open area and raise a huge ruckus. Do I need that? Better to quietly get onto the grounds and... organize a diversion. Naturally, none of them planned to walk to the Dune Sea, right. In the center of the improvised camp stood a rather huge tent, surrounded by smaller tents. Not far from the camp was a cargo ship with an excess of weaponry: turbolasers, missile launchers. Pirates? More likely mercenaries who are sometimes pirates, sometimes mercenaries, sometimes smugglers... In short — jacks of all trades. The mercenaries were quickly loading some crates onto speeders that resembled motorboats. So that's how they plan to reach the dragon's habitat. I had a speeder too — more precisely, a 'Star Hawk' gravcycle. Recently put into production. A useful thing, especially if Jacob Jarps, despite the clearly felt hatred coming from him when he talked about his brother, decided to betray me. Although he clearly understands the usefulness of a Gifted in the team. But if even the Mandos decide to betray me, I can always use my gravcycle and try to reach the Dune Sea on it. Why not use the ship? At least because the ship could damage too many valuable resources. Plus — there's the romance. Even in a group, to overcome such a monster. Although I do plan to use my starship, under BB's control, if things get really bad. It'll take about five minutes to reach the Dune Sea. In short... good ideas come after the fact. Using the ship is a good idea, but no one will do it. Everyone will go hunting the old-fashioned way.
As for the group of the former best marksman in the surrounding twelve systems, I decided to do everything quietly. The gang seemed calm, when suddenly someone's scream rang out, then someone's cursing. From my feelings — Billy reached his people and naturally — everyone suddenly needs to drop unloading the ship to see what's up with the newly made invalid, hence the noise and commotion. Not that they're amateurs, but not professionals either, otherwise how to explain everyone rushing to see what's with Billy? Although I'm lying, two were supposed to stay, but a light Force suggestion and they also joined the onlookers.
"Well, well, well," I approached the equipment. "Congratulations, you've ended up in the Master-Breaker's mechanical workshop. What am I a master of?" I thoughtfully examined five transports. Each was supposed to carry six sentients. Two even had beam rifles mounted. "Breaking things. What's this?" I looked at the engine component, "looks like a generator. Don't need it," and how convenient that the main propulsion system was kind of hidden from view. They were rightly confident in their speeders. I crushed the part, carefully, so as not to explode it. "Oops, looks like I dropped a couple of bolts into the engine. And accidentally cut the ignition cords. What a misfortune," I shook my head. "Well, now let's finish four more machines, and then I can safely check out the Hutt faction, and then sleep. Oh, and right," I grabbed my head. They might decide that if not by speeder, they can at least fly to the Dune Sea on their ship. I can't seriously damage it, unless... I patted my pockets and pulled out a tracker. I'll program a missile from the 'Star Trek' to it in a couple of clicks. As soon as their ship takes off, BB-7, launching mine, will shell their ship, easily playing on the element of surprise. I attached it right to the hull, a bit above the engines. That way they won't be able to detect it, and BB will send a missile at it — not even one, but two, or three.
* * *
But I decided to sensibly not mess with the Hutts. Their security was just terrifying. All bounty hunters, and not the worst ones. They don't reach Mando level, but they looked dangerous and almost caught me during my infiltration attempt. And one even decided to follow me... I led the girl into a dark alley and hit her with the Force hard enough that she lost consciousness, having slammed into the wall. Oh well. In principle, eliminating one of the competitors is even good. But just in case, I left an order for BB-7 to watch me using another tracker I'd brought along, and if something happened — my 'Star Trek' would show everyone. It's not an ISD, of course, but it has one of the best speeds, and that's what will decide.