Star Wars Infinities: The Warrior
By Christopher W. Blaine (firstname.lastname@example.org)
DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by George Lucas and are used herein without permission for fan-related, non-profit entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.
"The Rebel Fleet was defeated at Endor, though it wasn't destroyed," Mara said as she examined the news story on the small computer screen. "According to this, a secret Imperial project was destroyed as well by forces loyal to…" She read the title again and gave a small laugh. "Prefect Tarkin…'Lord of the Tarkin Confederacy'."
"This Tarkin sounds very ambitious for a mere human," Exar said as he examined his youthful features in the mirror. The olive colored skin and black wavy hair was different from his former features, but his original body had been reduced to dust thousands of years before. "Boba Fett did not trust him."
"Boba Fett, I assume from all that you have said, did not trust anyone," Malakie said. He wore a black uniform with the left sleeve buttoned up to the shoulder. The color had returned to his face and he looked reasonably healthy, with the exception of his missing left arm. "I suppose then that this rebellion against authority is over with?'
Mara shook her head and continued to read. "It says that Fleet Admiral Daala ran the Rebels off, but there is no mention of an overwhelming victory. I really would not count them out."
Exar replaced the Mandalorian helmet on his head. He liked this body; it was a real shame it had no Force potential at all. That was only a minor setback. "Speaker Tarvis will be here soon," he announced.
"I suppose you want us to leave?" Malakie asked. Exar had attended several private meetings since they had arrived on this world, a planet that Mara could not even find on the star charts. Exar had explained that it was a world that had been known to him in his day, but that it was also surprisingly familiar to the Fett's. This was where they would spend the next few months, recuperating and formulating their plans.
"If you wouldn't mind, my apprentice. Besides, you need to practice with your new weapons," the Dark Lord explained. Malakie had thrown himself even harder into his studies since awakening from his healing trance. The loss of Gethzerion had affected the young man somewhat, but the trade-off had been he had started bedding the scarlet temptress Mara. Exar would have given up his grandmother, mother and children for such a thing!
Malakie removed the single glove from his right hand, revealing a metallic gauntlet that was fingerless. "I was most pleased with your decision to arm me this way, master."
"It is a most ancient of Sith weapons, developed for the limb-impaired," Exar replied with a smirk from behind the helmet.
"Ah, more of your crude humor. I wish I could find something in which to reply with, but I wouldn't want to be disrespectful." There was a small snapping sound and three thin half-meter long emerald blades rose from Malakie's fist. "I mean, with no way to reach out to the Force, you are at a disadvantage."
The arrogance in his apprentice's voice brought pure joy to Exar's heart. He needed a warrior apprentice that was not just sure of his ability, but could overcome any obstacle thrust in his way. "Leave me now, so I may conduct the negotiations," Exar said as the door chime played.
Malakie deactivated his weapon and accepted Mara's hand and the two exited the stark white confines of the apartment through a side door. Outside, a storm raged, but on this world, they always did. Exar called for the visitor to enter.
Speaker Tarvis was a small human, a rare sight on this world, especially given his position within the government here. "Greetings Boba Fett," Tarvis said with a small bow. He wore the traditional robes of Kamino citizens.
Boba bowed as well. "I am honored by your patronage."
"Taun We sends her greetings," Tarvis replied. Taun We had been a minor functionary decades before when Jango Fett had been approached to become the original donor for the clone army of the Republic. She had taken a special interest in the child Boba Fett and now that she was running her own cloning facility, she was a very unexpected ally in Exar's master plan.
Tarvis cut straight to the heart of the matter, as was the fashion in these talks. "Your sample, though burned along the edges, has viable DNA. We can create the clone body that you have requested."
"And the midi-chlorian levels?'
The Speaker smiled. "Thanks to the efforts of benefactors such as the former Emperor, we have refined our techniques in creating Jedi clones. We can manipulate the midi-chlorians to levels you requested, but it will require extra payment."
"I see," Exar said as eh folded his arms over his chest. "What would be acceptable payment?"
"It has been suggested that the one-armed man with you is of special parentage," Tarvis started. "Is this true?"
Exar caught on immediately. They wanted to do something that was only dreamt of in his day and if they could do it, it would be the most fantastic feat of genetic engineering ever. "You are correct. His father was Darth Maul."
"Indeed! A fine specimen, but there is a problem. We would require the a sample from the mother…"
Exar walked over to a clothing storage locker and opened it. After looking through it, he found what he wanted and pulled it out. He then walked over and presented the dark uniform to Tarvis. "It is covered with his mother's blood."
He examined the dried blood spots and flaky pieces of gore and nodded. Exar continued to speak. "I didn't realize that genetic legacy cloning had been perfected."
"We had a breakthrough two years ago, but we haven't had a challenge such as this presented to us. If we are successful, then imagine what we could do."
The man in the armor nodded. "I do indeed wish you luck. So, how long before the body is ready?"
"Your manipulated clone? I fail to see why you would want a clone with Force-ability, but it is your business. It will take five years to grow it to twenty standard years of physical age."
He nodded and began to tune out Tarvis as he went over the specifics of his plan. Five years he would have to spend here, but then after that, the galaxy would be his.
"Don't try to speak," Jango said as he worked over the small stove. The air was filled with the smells of exotic plants, marsh gases and decay. Jango didn't seem to mind and he sidestepped the medical droid as it made a few adjustments to the patient.
Jango continued to speak as he sipped at his soup. "We're on a jungle world in the Corporate Sector, at my private estate. It took us about a week to get here and you're damn lucky that I have training in advanced life support."
The patient said nothing and the 2-1-B droid scooted around the table and reached an arm out. As it made some fine adjustments, Jango's narrative went on. "You've been in a coma for six months while the droids worked on you. You are damn lucky to be alive."
Chewbacca gave a small growl and realized why he had been told to not speak. His throat was raw and the effort had nearly sent him back into the blissful sleep he had been enjoying. He remembered his fight with Malakie and after that nothing.
"He cut your arms off," Jango said. "You didn't lose any blood, but your nervous system suffered a tremendous shock. You've lost about half of your body weight, but my cook will fatten you up soon enough."
A Gammorean dressed in white with a chef's hat walked in and grabbed the soup pot from the small stove and began cursing at Jango, motioning to the kitchen proper that was up the stairs. Jango responded in the growls and belches of the pig-creature's language.
When the cook finally left, Jango started addressing Chewbacca again. "I'm offering you the chance for revenge. Malakie took your arms and your mistress, his master took my son. You owe me a life debt."
Chewbacca rolled his head to the side, his blue eyes looking to the stumps where his arms had been. They widened immediately as he saw massive bionic limbs encased in durasteel. "Top of the line from Hapan cyborg factories. I'll spend every credit I ever made to kill that son of a nerf-herder. I don't care about the Rebellion, or Tarkin or the Empire. I'm an old man now and I need help."
Chewbacca flexed the arm the droid was working on and he actually felt the fingers close. There was incredible power in the limb, the power of hate and the power of vengeance. He turned back to Jango but didn't say anything. "Debate it all that you want, but in the end I will expect your help."
Chewbacca nodded and the effort strained his weakened body and the Wookie passed out. Jango looked to the droid who informed him that Chewbacca was fine and that it was to be expected. The bounty hunter nodded and then moved to go up the stairs, dark thoughts permeating his mind.
Thoughts of pain and death and the reign of terror that he would bring down on those who took his son away.