Merc By Trade

[Brato Duott]

Merc By Trade Part I

The violent jerk of the Corellian light corvette was a rude awakening for Brato. Not even a day after leaving Coruscant and something just has to go wrong. It would have been easy to turn around, easy to ask for his position within the small military unit that he was currently employed with, and it would have been easy to have a decent paying job again, and know that you could collect. But easy wasn't the way that Brato Duott operated.

"Ugh.... was finally having a nice nap too," said Brato, yawning and reaching for his blaster rifle.

Another violent jerk prodded him to rise and make his way to the section of the ship where he knew he could find the person responsible for, if not causing the inconvenience, would be the one who should have noticed that there was something wrong with the engines and fixed it before leaving the system.

"Hett! What in the name of all that is holy is making this ship so bloody jerky, and why haven't you fixed it yet?!?" Brato yelled at his shipmate. Two yellow eyes under a brown hood looked at him, blinked twice, and then the Jawa shrugged.

"Well, do something about it! If I'm to go shooting people later, I want to do it when I am fully rested."

The Jawa said something that Brato couldn't understand, and watched as Hett scurried off to see if he could figure out what was wrong with the ship, if for no other reason than to leave the mercenary and his cranky attitude where his blaster could not reach. Brato merely shook his head, and headed to the cockpit to see if he could find the captain.

"Have you been messing with Hett again, Brato?" asked Griegan, as Brato entered the cockpit of the shuttle.

"Have to keep myself entertained somehow, Grieg. You know how bored I get when I'm flying when I could be doing something useful."

"You want to make yourself useful, Brato? Try not to scare the hired help, especially the hired help that was sent to us by our current employer," Griegan said, stone faced. The two stared at each other for a few minutes, before each burst into laughter.

"Next time you see Chompsky, you tell him that if he wants to send someone to help us, we could use a slave girl, not some smelly Jawa that thinks he's a mechanic," Brato said.

Griegan chuckled, and put his arm on his best friend's shoulder. "If I see Chompsky again after the job he just sent to us, it will be to bury my boot in him somewhere very difficult to remove, not to ask any favors."

"Is it bad this time?" asked Brato, all note of humor gone from his voice.

"Nothing we can't handle, if we're careful. Looks like there's quite a few people that the Empire are wanting dead, and we are the ones to do the dirty work. Spread out, this lot, but I think we can hit them all while they are separated," said Griegan, handing Brato a list of unfortunate people who would be meeting the end of Brato's blaster.

"A group? Some kind of organization? Well, so long as they aren't together, it shouldn't be too dangerous. Sure, it'll make the job longer, but I would like to come out of this one alive, so no complaints here."

"We'll be hitting the first target in two days," said Griegan.

"Should be a fun little hunt," said Brato, smiling. "Gotta love it when they're scattered."

[Brato Duott]

Brato awoke to Griegan screaming into his comlink. He reached for it, and groggily mumbled into the receiver.

"Wake up you big bag of useless! We just received new intel on our targets, looks like this one is going to be trickier than we initially thought," said Greigan.

"I'll be in the lounge, put the ship on auto for a while, if this is going to take a while, I at least want to be comfortable," said Brato, as he began to dress.

Ten minutes later, Brato, Griegan, and even smelly little Hett were seated in the lounge of the freighter, carefully going over a very complicated plan to find and destroy their intended targets. Brato had never had to do anything so intricate in his entire life. Usually, when clients wanted someone dead, it was one, maybe two people at most, never an entire group. Where this group was scattered throughout the galaxy though, Brato thought that it wouldn't make a difference, until Chompsky sent the message that made the blood drain from Brato's face.

"He wants us to do what?!?" Brato shouted, burying his face in his hands. "It can't be done, we're good, Grieg, but we can't possibly take them all out at once."

"Well according to our lovely associate Chompsky," said Griegan, rolling his eyes, "the Empire wants us to take them out all at once. They seem to think that if we start picking them off one at a time, that they will know something is up, and I can't really argue with that logic."

"And how do they expect us to take out all of the Saints at once? These aren't just regular men, these are Jedi, seasoned soldiers, and escape artists we're talking about," said Brato, slowly piecing together what would likely happen, and not liking it at all.

"Well, the way I see it, the best way to take out an organization is from the inside," said Griegan with a grimace on his face.

"No, I won't do it," said Brato defiantly.

"Has to be done, friend," said Griegan with an apologetic look. "Chompsky's orders, not mine. You have to become a Saint."

Brato stood up, punched the Jawa hard across the face, said "Give that to Chompsky with my love." and headed to his quarters to figure out how he could possibly survive what would be the most dangerous job of his entire life.

[Brato Duott]

The next day, Griegan and Brato were in orbit around the planet of Corellia, making preparations to land and seek out one of the local gangs. While Brato began to put on his disguise, Griegan entered his room, to go over the plan one more time before the descent to the planet's surface.

"You remember how this is going to play out, Brato?" asked Griegan.

Brato gave Griegan a condescending look and replied, "This isn't the first time that I have had to make nice with the target, Grieg. Remember the Rodian out on Dantooine that I had to become drinking buddies with before slipping that poison into his glass?"

"True, but that was in the span of a few days. This operation could take weeks, months, even years before you gain the full trust of the Saints."

"The Saints are a very open group, if our intel is reliable, and this guy Maxon doesn't seem to be the most suspicious jedi we've come against. The initial infiltration should go smoothly, if your contact came through."

Griegan smiled. "As a matter of fact, I have a meeting with one of the local gangs an hour after we are supposed to dock. Seems that this group is quite eager to please, especially with the creds that we a re dishing out."

"Creds we're dishing out only after the job is done, right?"

"Of course, only this job won't be getting done. I don't see the need to tell a doomed group that we're sending them after a jedi, do you?"

The two shared a much needed laugh, and Griegan and Brato headed to the cockpit to make their descent to the capitol. Maxon would have no idea what hit him. Brato went over the plan over and over in his head. This would work, it had to work. Brato would get in with this Maxon guy, become a Saint, destroy the Saints, and have enough credits to live the rest of his life in relative peace, on a planet of his choosing.

"Beginning descent," said Griegan.

"And so it begins," Brato said, as Corellia began to grow in the screen.


To be continued....

[Brato Duott]

After a smooth descent to the docking bays on Corellia, and reluctantly handing over a few credits to keep their names out of the docking manifest, Brato and Griegan left their only safe haven to meet with a group of less than reputable thugs.

"Do they said that they wanted to meet in a bar, completely unarmed?" asked Brato.

"Yeah, and I told them that we would respect their wishes, as we are respectable businessmen," Griegan said with a laugh, as he adjusted his hold out blaster hidden in his pants. "We definitely chose the right guys for this job."

"I don't know how you manage to get people to believe half of the things that you say, I swear that is just not right," said Brato with a chuckle.

"Must be my honest face," replied Griegan.

In a half an hour, Griegan and Brato were seated in the corner of a seedy bar, waiting for Griegan's contact to arrive with the leader of the unlucky group of thugs that were to take the job. Griegan, who sat facing the back of the bar, was constantly looking over his shoulder, and Brato, who never liked waiting for anything, was beginning to get a little antsy as well.

"Your guy is late," said Brato, matter-of-factly.

"I know, and I do not like it," replied Griegan. "He has another ten minutes before I walk."

Not five minutes later, one of the most ugly people that Brato had ever seen in his entire life entered the bar, along with a young man wearing shabby clothing and an empty blaster holster. They scanned the bar, and the ugly man nodded in Brato's direction, and began to head towards him.

"I think that your man is here," Brato said, not letting his gaze leave the two men making their way to the table.

Griegan looked over his shoulder, gave a curt nod, and called over a waitress. "Four Corellian ales please," he said, handing over a few credits to the waitress.

"Gentlemen" said the ugly man, "I apologize for the delay, it seems that the authorities saw fit to question this young man before we made it to our destination. I assured them that what they were accusing this man of were ludicrous, as my nephew had just arrived from Coruscant to visit his dear old uncle. They didn't take as much prodding as they usually do, it seems that they will allow anyone to become law enforcement now."

"Prodding?" asked Brato, raising an eyebrow.

The ugly man smiled, and brought back a flap in his jacket to expose a weapon that made Brato extremely uncomfortable. The tube was almost all black, at the top of the hilt were four spikes, and was flat at the base. It almost made the weapon look like a four pronged tower.

"A lightsaber? So what side do you work for then?" asked Brato, as his hand began to rest near where he had hidden his hold out blaster.

"I am on my side, my foolish friend, and if you continue to move your hand towards your weapon, I will make you think that you are a ten year old girl for the rest of your life."

Not wanting to aggravate a force sensitive, Brato immediately folded his hands on the table, and waited for the two newcomers to take their seats.

"I see no reason to get into pleasantries," said Griegan. "The job is simple, you attack this young man when he lands, take him out. Completely. Dispose of the corpse, and bring back a datachip that is on his person. It will be there, he has it with him at all times. You bring that to us, in this place, at this very table, at the time discussed previously, and then you will be paid."

"I think half up front would be appropriate," said the young man.

Griegan gave the man a belittling smile and replied, "You will be paid for the job at its completion. This man is no threat, merely a pawn in the greater schemes of those that we serve. If there was any true danger, I would certainly pay you in advance for your troubles, but this is not the case." Griegan placed a datachip on the table. "That has everything else you need to know about the man, his ship, and what he does. That should be enough for you to get your task done."

The man looked at the fallen jedi, and could get no sign of deceit from anyone sitting at the table. He took the datachip, downed his ale, and headed for the door. After his departure, the fallen jedi too drained his mug, and left without another word.

"That was easy," said Brato, finally breathing comfortably since the two entered the bar.

"The jedi owed me, I helped him get out of a jam when he defected from the Order, now I suppose he's not to be trusted," said Griegan, as he stood. "We have a lot to prepare for, let's get ready, Maxon should be landing within the next few days."

"And then the fun begins," said Brato, chugging down his ale and slamming his mug on the table. "Let's get out of this dump."

To be continued in another story coming soon!