Jaxon Bates sat up as his R2 unit began beeping and whistling. His modified E-wing allowed him to stretch out on longer hyperspace journies, and he'd been taking advantage of this option to catch a bit of sleep. Well, "bit" was a relative term, wasn't it? Ten hours could be counted as a "bit," at least on some worlds. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and rearranged the back of the seat to it's upright postion. His R2 whistled again.

This time Jaxon got the message. Astral Astoria, the space station that was his destination, was approaching. "Alright, alright. Let's see, exit from hyperspace in fifteen seconds." He began punching buttons, preparing for reentry into realspace.

The stars faded back into points of light, and the massive space station filled Jaxon's view. The station was enormous. But Jaxon had tackled tougher jobs before. He had already been in contact with one of the inhabitants of the station, a friend of a friend (if anyone could be called a friend in his business), and had cleared himself a landing space at one of the lesser-used docks. He wanted his entry to be as unnoticed as possible. The fewer people who remembered him, the better.

He angled his ship towards the specified landing bay and tuned his comm frequency to that of the station. "E-4973A-NBWF requesting clearance to land at Bay 573A."

The reply was not forthcoming, and Jaxon cursed the slackness of the control room. Couldn't they at least hire competent operators? His surprise was evident, though, when a computerized voice returned over the system, "E-4973A-NBWF, you are cleared to land. Enjoy your stay at Astral Astoria."

Enjoy your stay? Funny, Jaxon thought, considering why I'm here.

Nevertheless, he increased the thrust on his fighter and headed around to the backside of the station. In the process, he gave his R2 unit instructions. "Stay with the ship. I may need to make a quick exit, depending on the efficiency of the police force here, so we need to be ready to go at a moment's notice." The small droid beeped an affirmative, and Jaxon prepared to land the craft.

Jaxon throttled down as he approached the dark landing bay. The area seemed deserted, but years of experience had taught him to be prepared for anything. For this reason, he left his shields up as he approached the station. His inside friend had informed him that there were no gun emplacements around this hangar bay, but one could never be too sure.

His fears proved unfounded, though, as the ship passed through the gaping hole in the side of the station seemingly unnoticed. Jaxon brought his ship around in a slow circle before touching down, scanning for potential threats. While the station was rumored to be safe in the docking areas, the bounty hunter knew that deserted areas drew scum. That's why Jaxon had chosen this area to land, though. Only scum woulc see him.

The ship touched down softly onto its shields, resting on them for a moment before Jaxon decided it was safe to shut them down. The ship slowly settled onto its landing legs. Jaxon looked around once more before opening the canopy of his fighter. He lifted up the seat and pulled out his light blaster and a shoulder holster, which he attached under his jacket. His vibroknife was transferred from a boot sheath to a sheath on his forearm, and his heavy blaster went into a side holster. Checking through his gear one more time, he turned to his droid.

"Remember," he said, "stay with the ship. And don't let anybody else near it." He didn't really need to remind the droid, but it was a reassurance for him. His astromech had been working with the E-wing for long enough now that the ship and the droid were on basically the same system. The droid could easily fly the ship by itself; in fact, on several occasions it needed to do so.

Jaxon hopped onto the wing, then onto the floor. He pulled out a datapad and opened a map of the known regions of the station. The nearest shifter was just outside the bay. His target would most likely be in the bars, or possibly in the casinos. This wouldn't be that hard.
_______________________________________________

The shifter deposited Jaxon on the 111th floor, the bar district. Jaxon exited the shifter, a little disoriented. Those things always gave him the creeps. Not understanding how something worked was one of those things that freaked out the generally calm and collected bounty hunter, especially when it was something that transmitted him immaterially from one place to another. Jaxon headed for the Hades Hive, the most popular bar in the station, if reports were to be believed. He'd heard that the bartender, a fellow named Calibos, knew all the workings of the station, who came and went, etc. He surely would have heard of Jaxon's target, or at least know of someone who had.

Jaxon entered the bar, brushing past a bulky alien that was exiting. He got a dirty look in return, but he was long past being bothered by a simple look. The alien didn't seem to want trouble and moved on. Probably just as well. Jaxon was attempting not to be noticed. After glancing briefly around for threats, the bounty hunter headed for the bar. He sat down and waited for the bartender to come take his order.

The place seemed decently empty for its size - must be the off-hours. Come to think of it, it was early according to Coruscant standard time. Most people didn't start drinking for at least a couple more hours. Jaxon turned back to the bar and saw the large Astorian bartender headed towards him.

"What'll it be, stranger?" the alien called Calibos asked.

"Let's start out with a Corellian brandy, shall we?" replied Jaxon. The bartender turned to retrieve the bottle and a shot glass. As the alien set the drink down in front of the bounty hunter, Jaxon leaned forward and said, "I hear you're in the know around here. I need some information or the name of someone who can provide it, on an officer of the New Order named Moron Tavles. Know anything about him?"

The alien shot Jaxon a look, scrunched his already somewhat ugly face, and shook his head. He then turned to another custormer who had just walked in. Jaxon took a sip of his drink and thought for a moment. Had his informant been wrong? Nah, couldn't be. This guy had never been wrong. Well, the first contact hadn't worked out. Maybe the second would.

Bates finished off his drink and slapped some credits down on the bar, then quickly left and headed for a bar three doors down. To any observer, he would have seemed to be blankly staring ahead, but his eyes were registering each being he walked past. He was looking for someone in particular.

He entered the bar and glanced around. There, in the corner. The female human. Malra Tyrell, or so he was told. Apparently one of the best slicers in the business, though you wouldn't know it to look at her. Her long blonde hair and her captivating smile gave rise to the belief that she was simply a common, though beautiful, woman. Few even suspected her second identity.

Jaxon knew enough not to approach her immediately. He walked to a table several meters away from her and eyed the rest of the room. He called for a brandy and nursed it for a few minutes, waiting to make sure everything was clear. He then rose, as if he'd just noticed the beautiful woman in the booth, and walked over to her.

"Mind if I sit here?" he asked. Malra looked up, a little put off. Jaxon noticed her right hand moving slowly down her leg - hidden vibroknife, perhaps?

"Of course I mind," came the reply. "Just who the hell are you?"

"Just a lonely stranger, ma'am, hopin' to find some company. But I can see you're not up for it. I'll be seein' you then," Jaxon responded. He turned to walk away; as he did, a small note fell from his hand and landed by the woman's foot. Jaxon walked back out of the bar as the woman picked it up cautiously and read it. She looked up to see the man's back disappear out the entrance and crumpled the note into a tiny ball.

Jaxon headed to a third bar, this one just across from the Hades Hive - a real dump. Only a few customers were here, and they were already out of it. The darkness was also quite conducive to the plans that Bates had.

Ten minutes later, Malra Tyrell entered the bar and walked over to Jaxon's table. "Hello, Mr. Bates," she began.

"Please, call me Jaxon," he replied. "I anticipate us working closely on this assignment, so we might as well get used to each other."

"Fine by me," the blonde replied. "So, what do you need me to do?"

"I need to know everything I can about an Imperial officer named Moron Tavles. He's a sub-lieutenant in the Imperial Navy. He raped and murdered the wife of a lesser official in the Vinda Corporation, who subsequently hired me to assassinate him."

Malra thought for a moment, then replied, "He's a bigtime gambler here. Comes here every time he's on leave. You'll find him on the casino level. Start throwing around some credits and he's bound to show up." She paused, then continued, "I might be able to get you his room number, too."

Jaxon replied, "Do that. It might be better to do away with him in a more private setting anyway."

With that, Malra rose and turned to walk away, then turned back. "If you want, you can stay in my place for now. I assume you want to stay hidden, and until I know more, that's probably the best place for you."

Jaxon nodded, and the two headed for the door. Malra gave him the level and the room number, along with a spare key. He glanced at it, memorized the number, and turned for the nearest shifter. Malra headed the opposite direction, moving towards one of the station's many computer terminals.

He angled his ship towards the specified landing bay and tuned his comm frequency to that of the station. "E-4973A-NBWF requesting clearance to land at Bay 573A."


The scruffy man, who clearly had a problem with having to come to work today. He scratched his backside for a full minute before realization hit him in his drunken stupor.

He flipped the automated response program on and gulped down his beverage.

"E-4973A-NBWF, you are cleared to land. Enjoy your stay at Astral Astoria."


While the ship was timidly looking for an area to land that did not draw notice, the garbage pile in the northern corner seemed to move about, as if some animal was shuffling through taking advantage of the 'out of service' garbage detail.


He heard the snap hiss of the generators that kept the separation field in place dividing vacuum with the comfortable atmosphere within the hanger.

The switching from thruster to repulsor caught the ear of the one shuffling about and a snub nose poked out of the garbage and sniffed around.


A ship was landing!


The ship touched down softly onto its shields, resting on them for a moment before Jaxon decided it was safe to shut them down. The ship slowly settled onto its landing legs. Jaxon looked around once more before opening the canopy of his fighter. He lifted up the seat and pulled out...


But Ritchy had seen enough!


He scampered into a hole torn into the durasteel by something that never concerned the runt before. Whatever had done the damage was long gone and served as one of the many routes he used to rummage througout the station.

While Typhoid 7 was not generally recognized by those they considered their peers, like the locally famous and enigmatic Mr. Z, they laid claim to alot of areas (mostly by graffiti).




Scratch was the leader of Typhoid 7, comprised entirely of Ugnaughts. These however, were not like their elders who worked tirelessly on Bespin. They were the rejects. They were 'freaks' of Ugnaught society, too small to interact with their own and yet too smart to be put in the retarted pens on their hidden homeworld, they were cast out by the hundreds to take their chances among the stars.

Some races might find such an act appalling opting to instead waste their government's resources in feeding, bathing, and generally housing such degenerates not suited for living among society in general. As it turned out, however, the act was completely Ugnaught in nature and saved their culture billions of buku which immediately went to supporting programs to help the lesser species of the galaxy to find out what they could do to obtain needed cosmetic surgery to transform their hideous noses into a proud, strong snout the 'piggies' sported.

Ugnaughts were short as it was without the birth defects Scratch and his brood lived with. And so, in light of their even smaller stature, the members of Typhoid 7 had to watch out for all types of dangers from the creatures dwelling in certain dark junctions to simply pest control droids that mistook them for real vermin.

The piggies moved quickly behind the walls that served as their own private corridors down and around levels to emerge from the same torn hole and into the garbage pile.

Their beady eyes stared out at the parked E-wing fighter.

Ritchy squeeled again and Snitchy looked nervous, bringing up the rear. "A droid is guarding the ..." he stared unsure.

Preacher took it in stride. "Two Ugnaughts the lord placed in the front of the Garden of Garbage with a flaming dagger spinning.."

Scratch looked at the Shifter and grunted. "Not a flaming dagger but .."

The piggy scampered to the shifter knowing from experience the state of equipment in this mostly deserted part of the station. He gave the shifter a swift kick and the lights suddenly went down effectively putting the machine out of order. It'll be hours till a tech comes down to look at it.

Now all they had to do was wait for the hanger caretaker to arrive to collect his fee for parking the fighter. With space at a premium even on a large station like the Astral Astoria, nothing came for free. Parking was paid for. And if one didn't want their craft broken into or 'jacked' they'd pay extra.

People used to living 'out of sight' most of the time understood this and had no problem paying.

Those that expected life to hand them stuff for free on a platter usually ended up dead and in trash piles like the ones the piggies were hiding in.

At that particular thought Scratch wrinkled his nose. Was there a body in here?

He turned to Snitchy who's eyes suddenly widened. Snitchy looked nervous and gave Scratch his most honest smile which only made Scratch scowl distrusting the other piggy more. He suspected Snitchy's handiwork in some of the body's they run across and with the credits that he always seems to get but trying to prove anything was like trying to grap a piggy covered in hydrospanner grease. It just couldn't be done.


Every new visitor was a prospect for Typhiod 7 to make credits or enhance their reputations and connections. Usually they just took the credits.

"Snitchy, go get the rest of the gang. Preacher, make sure Cas (the hanger caretaker) adds our tax to the bill. Ritchy? You and I are going to ensure payment."

Ritchy rubbed his dirty mits together and squeeled a noise that meant nothing. Or at least the other piggies thought it mean't nothing. You never knew with Ritchy.

The little R2 unit was worried. Its sensors had been picking up life forms for some time now. There seemed to be a great deal of activity around some of the garbage heaps. Its domed head turned in every direction, scanning for threats. As of yet, nothing seemed to present itself, but the droid very much wanted to blast away at the trash piles with the E-wing's cannons. Its master had not authorized him to do so, though, so he wouldn't.

More activity. Some sounds registered on its auditory sensors. The astromech attempted to focus its sensors on the noises (voices?), but they were too soft and too far away. And the droid was not about to get out of the ship to go exploring. A low whistle moan escaped the droid as it turned its head once again.
_________________________________________________

Arriving on Malra's floor, Jaxon walked nonchalantly down the hallway. No one seemed to be out - either already gone, or too early for them, Jaxon thought. He was amazed at the level of care given to this hallway; not a speck of dirt to be seen. The caretakers must take special pride in this area for some reason, he postulated to himself.

He didn't really trust Malra too much. He'd been betrayed by a partner once before, and that time it had been someone he'd known for years. He'd only just met this woman. Yet he was going to her room. What was he thinking? He stopped in his tracks. What if she'd set him up already? He remembered the bartender's reaction to his request for information about the Imperial. Something had seemed a bit strange at the time, but he couldn't place it then. Jaxon wasn't big into conspiracy theories, but what if Malra was working as a bodyguard for the officer? It would be disastrous!

Nothing he could do about it now though. The security cams in the hall already had his image imprinted on thier memory. He'd have to either stay in Malra's room or head back to his ship. Malra's room would have to do.

Another thought came to his mind, though. If Malra was working for the Imp, then what was to stop her from eliminating his ship as well? He pulled out his comm and called back to his R2 unit, "Everything all right down there?"

A series of beeps and whistles came over the comm. Jaxon had worked with the unit enough to be able to understand the droid most of the time, but the speed at which the little astromech was talking was too much. "Whoa, there, slow down. What was that? Your sensors pick up life forms? I would imagine they do. We're in a space station." More beeps. "Nearby? Probably some scavengers. There were piles of trash all over the place down there. You shouldn't worry about it." More beeps. "No, you are not allowed to randomly start shooting the cannons." A lengthy response. "Look, if you really feel you must, sure, lock down the ship. But don't blast anything unless they are physically climbing on the ship or attempting to take it apart. Or if they shoot at you."

With that, Jaxon clicked off the comm and slid the card over the access panel. The door slid open silently. Jaxon cautiously entered the room. As the door slid shut behind him, he felt the back of his neck begin to prickle. He turned just as the security blaster above the door fired, sending a stun bolt into his body and rendering him unconsious.
________________________________________

Malra logged in on the termanal and began a general search for Moron Talves. While the search was progressing, she opened a new window and searched for Jaxon Bates. She didn't trust the man any further than she could throw him. She'd seen too many Imperial sting operations for something like that.

A beep from the terminal. Bates' check was done. Very little information on him. He'd never been to the station before, at least not under that name, but he had been on several other planets that were in the main database. He was a bounty hunter alright. The only other things in the systems were known bounties collected by Bates. Some impressive names.

Another beep. Talves' information check was done. A great deal more on him. Malra took out a datapad and linked it to the terminal, downloading all the information. She'd use it later in her room to get everything else she needed. She turned and headed for the shifter.

The R2 unit on the E-wing whistled mournfully. Its sensors picked up life forms in many areas, but now there was a concentration of them around one of the trash piles. Its head turned in that direction. There! The R2 could have sworn he saw a mini-Ughnaut. It hated Ughnauts. The little droid quickly communicated with the ship's systems, locking everything down - except the shields and the cannon. It wanted a second option. And it made sure that it could start the ship on a moment's notice.
__________________________________________________

Malra exited the shifter and headed towards her apartment. Jaxon Bates seemed to be who he'd claimed, but she couldn't be sure. Imperials were known to doctor information. She'd have to be careful. She opened the keypad next to the access panel to her door and punched in the security code, then slid her card over the access panel. The door slid open silently, revealing Jaxon Bates unconscious on the floor.

Oh, crap, she thought. I forgot to tell him about the security code. Knowing that he'd just have to wake up on his own, Malra headed towards the bedroom. As she was stepping over Bates, though, his hand grabbed her ankle as his foot came up and caught her in the back. She went down, rolled, and rose to find Bate's blaster pointed in her face.
____________________________________________________

Jaxon had awoken just minutes after the blast hit him. He didn't move, as he wasn't sure how sensitive the blaster was, and he knew Malra would have an override code for it. The question was whether or not she just forgot to tell him about the system or just wanted him out of the way. But he was going to find out.

About five minutes later, he heard a beep as a card slid over the access panel and the door slid open. He waited until he heard her footsteps coming past him to move, but when he did, it was with lightning speed. As she stepped over him, he grabbed her ankle and kicked her in the back, sending her flying to the floor. As he jumped up, he drew his blaster. He glared at her from behind the barrel.

"What the heck were you trying to pull?" was his first question. "Why didn't you tell me about the security system?"

Malra's answers were quick and to the point. "I forgot, alright? I gave you an access card and assumed that you would know that I would have a security system. And to tell you the truth, I don't trust you any more than you trust me. It looks like we'll have to work together on this job, but we can't afford this kind of thing."

"Of course we can't afford it. That's why all information needs to be shared. Including security systems and codes. Understand?"

Malra glared back at Bate's for a moment before nodding her head. Bates lowered his blaster and continued. "Good. So, what do you have on Talves?"

"A datapad worth of information we can sift through. It's not going to be easy, taking this guy out. We may need help. He's going to be travelling with a contigent of stormtroopers and other officers. All will be armed. Besides that, he generally hires guards here while he's on leave. Why, I don't know. Maybe he's not the officer that the Imperials would put on their propaganda holos."

"I'd say he's not," replied Jaxon. "Let's get to work. We need to plan when, where, and how we'll take him." With that, the two headed into the kitchenette and began pouring over the files, getting a feel for the man and his habits. Tomorrow they'd kill him.

"Sir, an E-wing, code '4973A-NBWF', has landed at Bay 573A." someone said to Ulrich. Ulrich did not resond to his fellow merc. He'd been on Merc's blade too long, and been in this region too long to think this was a bounty hunter.

All he said was, "Check the database. See if this pilot is a bounty hunter." This may be the one. Ulrich thought to himself. "Do we know his frequency? If you find out who this guy is, then maybe we can work with him." Then Ulrich left to his quarters.

"I hope this is a bounty hunter." one of Ulrich's men said. Out of the other twelve men only three nodded. The chance of this being a hunter was slim to none. More likely it was some Imperial officer on leave. But, what's with the R2 unit? the guy asked himself.

* * *

Back in his quarters, Ulrich had the same thought. He was going to rest for a while when he heard, Sir, we have a name. It's a Jaxon Bates. A known hunter. It also looks like he's bagged quite a few big bounties. This maybe our guy. Looks like our wait in space is done.

"Very good. Let's start her up, find a hidden place to land, and go find Mr. Bates." With that the pilot started the Blade up and went to find a place to land.

This is gonna be a long night, isn't it? Ulrich though to himself. He was walking to the bridge to check on the progress on the seach for this Jaxon Bates. All they could find was his backround as a merc/hunter/pirate. All he knew growing up was the Empire, and when his parents told him what they were doing against the Empire he killed them. My kind of hunter. Better yet, he's loyal to his cause.

On the bridge, the pilot was still looking for a place to land. He looked as if someone told him to look closely at a paper to find a picture that was not there.

"Attention on deck!" Ulrich yelled, which was not neccisary since there was not much talking, "As soon as we land we are in radio silence. We have no allies here. So everyone must be on full alert. When we are landed, no one without my permission shall get on or off this ship. Do you understand?"

"Oh rah!" the answer rang out.

*

Starship sensors were odd things. And while lifeform readings could be noticed inside the hanger, the power couplings and junctions that ran under the hanger, shown briefly by the scattered gratings that were positioned every few feet.


It was under the trash pile that Ritchy and Scratch lifted a smaller grating to allow themselves to squeeze into the small spaces under the floor of the hanger.

They knew the metal in the hull would confuse the sensor. They always did and so they made their way, shuffling and scuffling across narrow passages, sometimes crawling on all fours, sometimes on their tiny bloated stomachs.


They were under the ship and Scratch entered a code onto a computer junction next to him. And suddenly, the entire area lit up as the power to the large electromagnet surged to life.

Now the ship couldn't leave even if it wanted to. And it would only want too after the pilot paid the hanger fee.

"Nothing like making sure no one rips you off.." he whispered to a squeeling Ritchy who seemed to be stuck inbetween two couplings.



**



Cas stared at the scruffy looking Ugnaught. "You want me to add more tax?"


"So the light that shines the way may pay the way." Preacher answered scratching the back of his neck. A few piggy whiskers when with the motion.


**


Scratch looked around and found a chain and turned to the stuck pig.

"Stop playing!" he snapped, his pointed teeth grinding. "Run up the landing strut and attach this chain to the ship."

Ritchy continued to squeel and so Scratch too his hands and began to pull.

"Amateurs" was all Nas Molif could think as he starred at the motionless silhouette of a Corellian Corvette, now positively identified as the Merc's Blade, obviously waiting for a query.

So stupid.

They were trying to remain discreet, but there was no way in hell to make yourself stand out more than parking a hundred meter long ship in the middle of a major space lane.



Years ago, this "Ulrich" had shot his father, the CEO of a small shipyard, for a competing company, right in front of him. And then, he just looked at him and said "Business is Business." Now, he had taken it upon himself to get a much-delayed revenge.

He could attack the Corvette right now, in his Cloakshape, but that would be suicide. His 6-meter long fighter against that. One slip of the hand was all it required putting himself in front of the Heavy Lasers or Proton Torpedo Launchers. No, he would wait for a better time to kill him.

Ahead of him, an E-wing came out of space and headed towards the station. As discreetly as possible, the Corvette tried to follow suit, but stood out like a Bantha in a Landspeeder lot. The pilot obviously didn't know what he was doing.