"Shields down!"

"I'm losing maneuverability!"

"Ahh! Turret's offline!"

Jarvis looked up from his console, staring out at the burning convoy stretched out in front of him. Is this it? Is this how we meet our end? The deck shook violently as The Wandering One took a few hits from pursuing starfighters. A second later, ion cannons raked across the ship's side, and Ferril slammed his fist against his monitor as more systems blinked off-line.

"Guys! I could use some help here!" Allara's voice shouted over the comm.

So, you're still alive, Jarvis thought, a small smile flashing across his face before he responded. "We're in pretty bad shape, too." He paused, glancing quickly at his tactical screen. "You've got to come at us head-on, that's our only chance. Zal's got almost no maneuverability and half the weapons are off-line."

"Okay," She answered grimly. A few seconds later, she appeared directly ahead, pushing her Preybird to its limits in an attempt to evade the incoming fire from six pursuing fighters.

Jarvis started firing with the wing-mounted weapons, though the starboard wing had taken an ion cannon hit and its weapons were offline. Allara streaked by, and Jarvis yelled out, "Zal!" but Zal was already on it; he fired the forward turbolaser, vaporizing four of the enemy fighters a fraction of a second before they passed by. Jarvis had managed to take out one of the oother two, and Gren—whose turret had finally come back online—destroyed the last. Allara destroyed several of the fighters that had been pursuing the Blastboat, and Gren took out the last two of them.

"Brother," Ferril said, a growing fear apparent in his voice, "I got a clear picture of the markings on one of those fighters when it passed us by." Ferril pressed a few buttons, transferring the image to Jarvis' console. "It's them; they found us, again."

Jarvis stared down at the image on his screen, unwilling or unable to look away. "Get us out of here."

"But, boss—" Zal started.

"GET US OUT OF HERE!" Jarvis shouted, slamming his fist against the console and tearing his gaze away from the symbol on its display, only find himself staring once again at the burning wreckage that was all that remained of the convoy they were supposed to be protecting. "It's too late for them, and this is the only chance we're going to get. Ferril, get us some jump coordinates."

"Uhh, right; just give me a minute."

"We don't have a minute!"

"The nav computer's offline: I'll pull the emergency coordinates from R5, but it'll take a few seconds."

"Allara!" Jarvis yelled into his comm, too distracted and too scared to remember he wasn't supposed to use her name, "don't go far; we're getting out of here as fast as we can."

Ferril was mumbling softly to himself, entering long streams of commands and grunting incoherently as problems arose. "Ferril! Numbers! NOW!"

"Sorry, brother; I'm having some trouble here. . ." The R-5 twittered suddenly, his interface spinning rapidly as his dome rotated back and forth. It let out a high-pitched squeal just as Ferril exclaimed, "Hah! R5 fixed it! We're good to go; Transmitting jump data to the Preybird. Engaging hyperdrive. . . now!"

The blastboat surged forward, leaving the terror of normalspace behind, and offering the crew of The Wandering One a much needed break from the troubles that always managed to catch up to them.

"I told you we should have left that fat beast to his empire in the sand," Zal said, turning away from the flight controls and fixing Jarvis with an accusing stare, "but no, we had to go on a killing spree right in the middle of his victory celebration."

Jarvis shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking as nervous and innocent as possible. "How was I supposed to know that the first rule of Hutt-killing is 'don't leave his family alive, or they'll hunt you from this side of the rim to the other, and back again'?"

"Don't forget the second rule of Hutt-killing," Ferril chimed in: "'don't kill two Hutt's at once, or their families will put aside their decades-long war with each other and send the considerable might of their combined forces to hunt you from one side of the Rim to the other, and back again."

"Or the third," Gren said, climbing down the ladder that led to the overhead turret. "'If you fail to abide by rules one and two, it doesn't matter how far or how fast you run: they will find you, and you will die."

Jarvis looked at the members of his crew, mustered all the confidence he could, and responded quietly. "As long as they have something to lose, they have something to gain. There are bonds that run deeper than blood: we've proven that. The question is, what's more important to a Hutt than avenging his family?"

One Day Later


A blaster went off, followed by a loud thud, a muted grunt, the sound of breaking bone, then Allara stepped into the room from around the corner. "They've found us," She said, putting her blaster back in its holster.

The four aliens were out of their seats in half a heartbeat, grabbing their things and running out of the cantina with such frightened desperation that the bartender was surprised when he looked over to their table and saw that they had left money for their drinks. "Are you sure?" Jarvis asked feebly, pulling out his blaster and checking its power pack. Allara didn't look over at him or say anything, she just kept running, and that was all the answer Jarvis needed.

Allara was significantly ahead of them by the time they got close to the spaceport, and she skidded to a stop at the corner of a building, throwing up her hand to stop them while she peeked around the corner. The others slowed down, pulling out their blasters and looking around in all directions to make sure they weren't being followed. "How many?" Jarvis asked, nervously rechecking his power pack.

"Too many," She said, stepping back and eyeing their blasters.

"Anyone else got any suggestions?" Jarvis asked, reholstering his blaster as he realized how useless it would be. "I ran out of ideas five worlds ago."

"Change," Zal said, looking over at Allara.

"Sooner or later, they're going to catch on," She said, looking around as she pulled her backpack off, making her way into a nearby building. She stepped in, and came back out a moment later, wearing a dirty spacer's outfit, her Ubese environmental suit stuffed into her bag.

"That's better," Zal said, grinning.

"Eventually, those idiots are going to realize that every time they think they've got us, some random near-human female shows up to help, just as 'Jim' goes missing. We need a new plan."

"What are we going to do anyway?" Ferril asked, worried. "Even if we get to the ships, they've got holes in them! Neither one of them is in any shape to leave this rock peacefully, much less under fire from Hutt henchmen."

Jarvis turned to Ferril, hoping he didn't look as hopeless as he felt. "We don't have a choice. If no one has any new ideas, I say we go for a distraction."

"We ran out of grenades three worlds ago," Gren reminded.

"Who said anything about grenades," Jarvis retorted, flashing a nervous smile. "Gren, trade your repeater for Allara's weapon, then you come with me. Ferril and Zal, when the noise starts, you've got to get to the spaceport and get the blastboat in the air. Allara, find a decent position and get ready to lay down suppression fire if Gren and I get into too much trouble."

Everyone nodded in acknowledgment, then Jarvis and Gren ran off, taking a long route through several alleys, trying to get around the group of enemies. The two walked casually out of the alley, cutting slowly across the street, careful to make sure they were seen, but not their weapons. One of the thugs that was guarding the spaceport's entrance yelled at them to stop, then three members of the Hutt-employed group ran over quickly to check them out. Jarvis and Gren turned toward them, Gren standing just behind and a little to the side of Jarvis, using his friend's body to hide his blaster rifle from view.

"Wait. . . wait. . . now!" Jarvis yelled, dropping to one knee and pulling his pistol from beneath his jacket as Gren brought the rifle into position. They cut down the three approaching henchmen and ran for the other end of the street, diving behind a building just as the first random shots came from the more distant main group.

Jarvis grabbed Gren's arm, stopping him from running farther down the alley. "We have to stay here; we've got to give Ferril and Zal a chance to sneak into the spaceport." Gren ran back to the corner of the building, kneeling down and peeking around the corner, managing to get off a few shots before the incoming wave of enemy fire forced him back into the alley. He managed to get a few more shots off over the next minute or so, as the group of about twenty Hutt henchmen edged closer

Jarvis glanced down at the other end of the alley; he saw long shadows cast by an unseen light at a distant intersection. The men those shadows belonged to would be at the intersection in only a couple of seconds, and then they would be trapped. Jarvis grabbed Gren, pulling him to his feet as he said, "We've got to go," and pushed him into the main street. They ran madly down the street, trying to get to an alley on the other side of the street before the main group of henchmen had a chance to cut them down. Jarvis saw Gren take a blaster bolt to the back, and heard a strange squeal escape the Rodian as he began falling to the ground, but Jarvis grabbed him quickly, spinning him around and dragging him toward their destination.

Just then, a hail of blasterfire began pouring from one of the nearby rooftops as Allara opened fire with her repeating blaster, buying Jarvis and Gren just enough time to duck into the alley. Jarvis grabbed Gren's rifle and stepped back into the road, firing madly into the oncoming crowd of enemies. He saw from the corner of his eye as a blaster bolt tore into Allara's shoulder, spinning her around as she fell down, out of the henchmen's line of fire.

The approaching group turned its attention back to Jarvis—who was now standing squarely in the center of the road—and just as all hope seemed to have failed, a tremendous roar tore through the night, and the street was lit with the blazing light of The Wandering One's turbolaser, which blew a massive crater into the road and reduced the surviving enemies to little more than vapor and dust.

As the blastboat came to rest in the middle of the street, Jarvis ran to get Gren, and Allara came walking out a nearby building, her face showing no signs of pain. She helped Jarvis get Gren into the blastboat, where Ferril informed them of the bad news: "A squadron of Uglies is approaching. We've got two minutes to get out of here."

Allara started for the exit ramp. "Where do you think you're going?" Zal asked angrily.

"I've got to get my ship," She replied, not bothering to turn around.

"We don't have time! Besides, you're in no shape to fly."

"I've got to get my ship!" She said, stepping out of the blastboat and turning around to fix Zal with a determined stare.

Zal was about to respond when Jarvis stepped back into the room. "Let her go," He said harshly, pointing to the helm. "It's her ship, and she can take care of herself. Your responsibility is to get us out of here. Gren's in pretty bad shape; I'll do what I can with the first aide kit, but we've got to get out of here, now." He looked over to Ferril: "Get us jump coordinates. Allara, we'll meet you in orbit. Zal!" He yelled, pointing back to the helm, "get us off the ground." He turned around and walked back into the room where he had left Gren, grabbing the first aide kit as he went.

He stepped back onto the bridge a moment later, assuring Ferril and Zal that Gren was alright, at least for the moment. "They've stopped following us; they're going for Allara."

"Can she make it past them?"

"They'll get to her long before she can escape the gravity well. There's no way she can survive a whole squadron for that long."

Jarvis grabbed his comlink, clipping it to his ear and telling Zal, "Turn around, we're going back for her."

"What! We can't! We haven't made repairs from the convoy attack; there's no way we can survive a fight."

"Allara," Jarvis said over his commlink, ignoring Zal, "don't leave the planet; stay in the atmosphere. We're coming to help." He looked over to Ferril: "We're doing the three man thing; let R5 handle the nav calculations and you take the tactical station. I'll be in the turret."

The Preybird and the Blastboat were both very capable ships when it came to atmospheric combat, but the cobbled-together Uglies would be less responsive. Even so, the Uglies still outnumbered them significantly. As the two ships neared each other, Jarvis gave his orders. "Allara, run. Stall for time, we'll be there soon. And drop your altitude; put as much distance between you and open space as possible. You've got to hold on to your atmospheric advantage for as long as possible."

"They've split into two groups," Ferril reported. "Half of them are coming for us."

"Zal, we're running straight through this first group; we've got to get to Allara as fast as possible."

"Boss, the shields are in pretty bad shape; I don't know if we can afford to do that."

"That's what we're doing; now stop arguing with me and do it. I'm not leaving anybody behind. We all live, or we all die, but we do it together."

A moment before the blastboat met its challengers, Zal took a steep dive, frocing the attackers to match the dive. As they drew nearer, Zal pulled up suddenly as he flipped the ship upside-down. The sluggish Uglies tried to match his maneuver, though they succeeded only in leveling themselves out, which lined Jarvis up for a perfect shot. One of the ships vanished in a cloud of fire, then they were gone, forced to make a wide turn to get back on their prey's tail.

Meanwhile, Allara was running out of time. She had managed to avoid a head-to-head encounter, but now they were on her tail, and closing in. "You're not taking me without a fight," She said through gritted teeth, pushing aside the pain in her wounded shoulder through sheer willpower. She threw her fighter into a tight U-turn, cutting power as soon as it was completed, reducing the ship's forward motion to nearly zero. As she fell toward the planet, upside down, in a state of barely controllable freefall, she angled her ship upward, firing into the approaching formation. One of the Uglies exploded, then just as its companions were about to pounce on its helpless prey, a blast from The Wandering One's forward turbolaser cannon flashed by, reducing three of the ships to vapor.

Allara took a few hits from the underpowered weapons of the Uglies, then her fight to regain control of her ship began. She powered up the repulsorlifts and sublight drives, firing maneuvering thrusters as needed. The various forces at work on the ship overpowered the inertial dampeners, threatening to cause Allara to blackout, but she finally managed to pull the Preybird out of its freefall, just in time to take more hits from the five fighters that had been chasing the Blastboat only moments before.

Jarvis was firing from his turret, trying to drive off the attacking forces and protect Allara while she regained control, but the few hits he scored did no significant damage, and the Uglies finished their pass, undeterred. Zal pulled into position beside Allara's Preybird, and the two ships went after the formation of five enemy ships, while the other two Uglies tried to get in behind the Preybird and Blastboat.

Jarvis jumped down from the turret, running over to Ferril's normal station, currently empty, and comming the enemy fighters. "Listen, I'll make this real simple: you don't want to die, and I don't want to be here long enough to kill you. Local authorities will be here real soon, and then things are going to get really messy. How about this: we call it a draw, and pick this up some other time. What do you say?"

"I wish it were that simple," A familiar voice responded, "but I have superiors to appease. They would not be pleased if I returned without my prize."

"Harry?" Jarvis asked, remembering the Shistavanen that flew as one of Allara's wingmen while they were working for Kerlin the Hutt. "What are you doing?"

"Your death has become my assignment. You killed my boss, and now his bosses want you dead. So here I am, to do my job."

"Harry, listen. I've killed five of your men already. I will kill you all if you leave me with no other choice."

"New contacts," Ferril chimed in. "Local police; lots of them."

"Harry, we're leaving. Don't try to stop us."

"I owe you nothing, Ryn. But there are those that I do owe, and they want you to die. When next we meet, I will kill you."

The seven Uglies formed up and made a break for open space. Just before Zal and Allara made the jumps to lightspeed, Jarvis checked the sensor screens one more time; it looked like the Uglies would probably be able to escape the police, a prospect that made him both happy and sad. Harry had seemed to be a decent enough person, and was a better than average pilot, but now they were on different sides of a very deadly argument, and after all, Jarvis had found the people—the family—he trusted, and Harry wasn't one of them.

"Make the jump," Jarvis said, sighing wearily. "I'm going to check on Gren."

Twelve hours later

Jarvis sat cross-legged at the edge of the shadowport's docking bay, staring out at the quiet darkness of interstellar space. So many stars, so many worlds, but no matter where I go, they're there: the Hutts and their henchmen. Usually, the time he spent staring into space filled him with hope and wonder, but this time, it was only a reminder of the inevitable death that was soon to take him and his crew.

He heard someone approaching, and looked around just in time to see Allara coming to a stop behind him. "We're ready to go."

"Ferril's found someone?" Jarvis asked, getting to his feet.

"Yes, and Gren's back from the med bay."

Jarvis' eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"I told him you wanted him to stay here until he recovered," She responded, "but he said he'd rather die fighting than sitting around, waiting for the Hutts to find him."

Jarvis stood silently for a moment, then nodded in resignation and started walking toward the ship. "How's your shoulder?" He asked, concerned.

"Fine," She responded quickly, and Jarvis could just barely make out the annoyance in her voice, even through her helmet's filter. She had bandaged her shoulder and managed to change into a spare Ubese environmental suit while in hyperspace, and wouldn't go see the station's doctor.

"How are the ships?" He asked after a few seconds, though he was almost to them now, and could have inspected the hasty repairs on his own.

"I got the Preybird's port laser back online, and Zal and Ferril managed to get the Blastboat's shields back up to full power, though I don't know how long their patch is going to hold. We did what we could with the hull damage, but we didn't have much time, and Ferril spent all our money on his search."

Jarvis stepped up and into the Blastboat, Allara just behind him, and the group came together to discuss the coming events. "Here's how it is: we're broke, both the ships are damaged, and two of us are wounded. None of us have gotten any sleep in at least two days, and while the Hutts probably won't find us here for another day or so, we don't have any money to pay for further use of this dock. We've got one shot at living long enough to die honorable deaths, and that shot rests completely on the degree of success Ferril had with his recent search. So," Jarvis asked, turning to Ferril, "did you find someone?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Ignoring the uncertainty of Ferril's answer, Jarvis asked the more important question: "You're sure you didn't mess anything up before you found the traps, right?"

"Of course not! I know this sort of thing isn't my area of expertise, and I'm not dumb enough to jeopardize our only hope of staying alive, brother."

Jarvis just nodded. "Gren, I'd make you go pump yourself full of meds and take a nice, long nap, but I need you with us. Are you good to go?"

The Rodian turned to his friend, crossing his arms defiantly. "My people live for moments like these."

"Okay, then," Jarvis said loudly, gesturing to the whole group, "let's go. Next stop. . ." He hesitated, waiting for Ferril to tell them.

His answer came reluctantly: "Toydaria."

"That's in Hutt Space!" Zal yelled, as if the others didn't know.

"And it's where we're going," Jarvis cut in sharply, stepping into the middle of the group and issuing orders angrily. "Gren, take a nap; Zal, take us out; Allara, get to your ship; Ferril, plot a course. Live or die, we do it in the skies above Toydaria."

"Let's make this quick; they'll be on to us in no time." Jarvis looked out the viewport at the small space station in orbit around Toydaria. Somewhere on that station was the man they were looking for, the man that could save all of their lives.

The Blastboat and Preybird landed moments later, and Ferril quickly jumped out, the partly dismantled protocol droid they had taken from Kerlin the Hutt in tow. Jarvis just stood there, on the bridge, staring at the sensor screen, waiting for the inevitable.

"Contacts ," Jarvis reported after several minutes, turning away from the sensor station and making his way toward the laser turret's ladder. "One Corellian Corvette, and one squadron of assorted starfighters. Zal, take us out. Gren!" He yelled, waking his resting friend, "get in here; we need you at tactical." He touched the comlink on his ear, opening a channel with Allara. "Jim, this is it; look sharp and don't die."

The two small craft shot from the space station, tired of running, ready for a fight. I just hope this works. The enemy fighters were staying just in front of the corvette, utilizing the protection that the larger ship's weapons offered. "We've got to do this quick, people. They'll have reinforcements in-system soon."

The space station and local defense forces belonged to a third-party Hutt clan, and as expected, they opted to stay out of the fight, not wishing to ally themselves with other Hutt clans, but not wanting to make any new enemies, either. A Marauder-class Corvette and a few starfighters formed up between the space station and the incoming Hutt ships, deploying to ensure the space station wouldn't be put in jeopardy.

"This group looks like they know what they're doing," Allara said warily over the comm. "Be careful."

The first shots from the corvette's long-range weapons lanced out, and the final fight for survival began. Allara raced forward, firing randomly into the enemy formation while Jarvis and Gren offered support fire with the Blastboat's weapons. Allara weaved crazily, taking a few hits but missing the vast majority of incoming fire from the fighters, which were somewhat less organized due to the Blastboat's covering fire. A fraction of a second before Allara flew right through the enemy formation, Zal threw the Blastboat into a sharp dive, and a small explosion erupted from Allara's aft missile launcher, destroying the launcher but deploying its non-standard ordinance: a cloud of anti-fighter mines.

The quickly expanding cloud caught three of the enemy fighters, destroying them outright. Secondary explosions blossomed as the remaining mines were set off by the exploding fighters. The nine remaining fighters broke into groups of three and set out to force the two ships closer to the corvette. The Blastboat and Preybird offered little resistance, focusing on minimizing the damage taken, rather than maximizing the damage given. The reason soon became apparent.

Zal turned straight toward the corvette, Allara staying right beside him, and the two ships charged, their underpowered weapons firing relentlessly. But seconds before the two ships would have to break and run, Gren fired two torpedoes and three concussion missiles—the last they had—in an unnaturally fast procession. The modifications to the launchers had reduced their carrying capacity, but that didn't matter, since they weren't fully loaded anyway. The wave of explosives slammed against the shields, overpowering them and tearing away at protective hull plating. At the last instant before being forced to pull away, Zal fired a high-powered blast from the Blastboat's main turbolaser, overloading and vaporizing most of its vital systems, but the supercharged blast hit its mark and did its job.

"Full shield failure," Gren reported excitedly, "and partial power loss."

Zal and Allara broke away in different directions, cutting power and turning sharply, converging on the trio of enemy fighters that had been directly behind them only moments ago. In the split second before they flashed by, two of the three ships were taken out, and the third streaked away, quickly joining up with one of the remaining trios.

No longer able to rely on their corvette for effective cover, the fighters changed tactics, forming back into a single, large group, but this time, they refused to engage the more powerful Blastboat head-on. Relying on their slightly better speed and maneuverability, the formation worked patiently, taking their time to gain a position of advantage.

"This is taking too long," Jarvis growled angrily. "Zal! Bring us around; we're going to finish off that corvette! Jim, stay close." As Zal brought them around, Gren diverted power to the turret, pushing its output levels to their limit. Zal circled the hole in the corvette, giving Jarvis the chance to unleash a stream of destructive energy, eating away at the corvette's interior and causing further system failure. A small explosion rocked the enemy ship, then the fighters were on them, firing madly and quickly reducing the shields of both the Blastboat and Preybird.

"Incoming!" Gren yelled, just before a concussion missile slammed into the Blastboat, taking out the shields and dealing heavy damage to the ship itself. Another missile streaked by, narrowly missing Allara, and Jarvis was able to blast it out of the sky as it made a wide arc, trying to realign for another pass at its target.

The fighters pounced on Allara, tiring from several directions. "Shields down!" Came her mechanized cry, just before her port wing exploded. Gren and Jarvis poured on fire, destroying one fighter and forcing the others to scatter. Allara's damaged fighter streaked away, her port engine showing signs of damage.

"This is the Fortune's Frown, signing out," Allara said suddenly, turning her ship around and charging the six remaining starfighters, her one remaining laser cannon firing pitifully. As enemy laser fire tore away at the Preybird's unshielded armor, the Blastboat came in for one final run, approaching the engagement from the side. As Allara's starfighter began to disentegrate before them, Gren and Jarvis unleashed the full firepower of their damaged Blastboat, ion and laser cannons firing relentlessly, taxing the power generator. Then the Preybird exploded, and Jarvis let out a roar of anger, shifting the power output of his turret to its lowest setting and sending an unbroken stream of coherent energy chasing after the fleeing enemy fighters.

Before they got out of range, Jarvis and Gren managed to take out four of the enemy fighters, circling around afterward to reduce one disabled ship to slag, its pilot still inside. Please was the one word that kept repeating itself inside his mind as Jarvis climed down the ladder and went to the comm station, opening a predesignated channel. "Jim, are you out there?" Several seconds passed, then, "She's activated her homing beacon. Zal, let's go get her."

An alarm sounded, then several new dots appeared on the sensor screen, and Jarvis let out one, big, frustrated sigh. "Zal, you've got thirty seconds. The real bad guys just got here."

They grabbed Allara and were on their way toward the station before she had even made it through the short pressurization cycle. Jarvis activated a general comm frequency, aching, angry, and entirely too tired to put up with the system defenders who barred their path. "Get out of my way," He said wearily, gesturing in a way that seemed to say, "If you doubt my sincerity, look out your viewport and see my handiwork." When they didn't move or respond, Jarvis terminated the link, turning to Zal. "Fly through them. If they open fire, ram them. By now, I'm so far past caring."

He punched another button and started talking, barely coherent. "Ferril, you better have a present for me when I get to that station."

"Oh, I think you'll like this, Brother," Came the excited response. "I think you'll like this a lot. But I must inform you, the droid didn't survive."

"Good; I'd hate for the only thing on my ship that still works properly to be that stupid, uncooperative piece of Huttslime. Oh, yeah; be ready for us when we get there, because we have about two minutes before the Hutts catch up and kill us. Your pretty little R5's already got the jump plotted, so as soon as you're onboard, we're reaching for the stars."

When Fortune Smiles

Nar Kreeta had become the unofficial command center for the hunt for Jarvis and his crew. It was there that the two Hutt families had consolidated their strength, and it was from there that the vessels and troops of the Combined Clans had been sent out to scour the galaxy, using every resource available to find and kill the small group that the leaders of the Combined Clans had come to call "The Wandering Ones."

And it was there that a lone Skipray Blastboat, battle-scarred and on the brink of full system failure, emerged from hyperspace. The craft drifted idly in space, defying—simply by its existence— the power of the Combined Clans. Several seconds passed, and just before the first of the Hutt starfighters got within range, a signal was sent from the ship, and the form of a lone Ryn appeared from the holoprojectors of the two clan leaders. Jarvis Ragnar, captain of the Skipray Blastboat "The Wandering One" and orchestrator of the "Great Massacre," spoke.

"I have something you want to see. Call off your attack, or I assure you, you will live to regret it."

One of the Hutts responded in a loud, angry voice, but Jarvis didn't know Huttese, so he continued as if they had executed his request.

"The late Kerlin the Hutt was a terrible businessman, and an even worse gangster, but he was very good at one thing: information. He maintained a rather impressive list of the dealings of both his allies and his enemies, and he kept them in the one place he thought they would be safe. Unfortunately for you—his former allies and enemies—I took his database with me when I fled this world. His translator droid, who never left his side, held—behind layers of defensive protocols—volumes of information on Hutt criminal activity throughout the galaxy. He breaks it down to a very simple level. I have everything from names, positions, the amount of money individuals are being paid, and the services they provide to your kind, to flowcharts and diagrams showing revenue, chains of command, correlations between different puppet organizations and their illegal dealings, and distribution of Hutt assets.

"Quite frankly, I was surprised at some of the people I found on your list. I recognized some of the names, and for me to recognize the names, they have to be pretty important. I'm sure that TNO, the GC, the Commonwealth, and all the worlds of this galaxy would be very interested in getting their hands on this list. Anyway, I'll make it simple for you: leave us alone and call it a draw, or we'll give copies of this information to every government we can find. Sure, in your last death throes, I'm sure you could hunt down the rest of my crew and kill them, but I know for a fact that the two of you aren't going to throw away your organizations, just to avenge your sons; that wouldn't be very Hutt-like." Jarvis stopped, smiling broadly.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, snapping his fingers, "I almost forgot. The droid also had the access codes to all of Kerlin the Hutt's bank accounts, so as proof of my claims, I calculated the money he owed me for services rendered, the price of the tools I was forced to buy in order to kill him, the likely cost of repairing the Blastboat that you shot holes in and buying a new fighter that your men destroyed, compensation for time wasted while you chased me around the galaxy, and then—just because I could—I tossed all those calculations aside and emptied his accounts. Anyway, that money's mine now, so don't come looking for it, or I swear to you, I will destroy everything you have ever known," Jarvis paused, "and I'll be happy to do it."

He stopped again, making sure everyone understood. Then, just as it looked like he might be finished, he asked one question. "Tell me one thing: how does it feel to know you've been beaten by a Ryn?" He smiled again, and just as one of the Hutts began to roar in protest, he stretched out his arm and deactivated the holorecorder.

As the Blastboat turned slowly around and began preparing for the jump to lightspeed, the voice of Jarvis Ragnar was heard one last time in Nar Kreeta's system: "Never underestimate an enemy that has nothing to lose. If I ever see you again, I will ruin you."

Then, with a flash of light, the Blastboat was gone, and with it left the only reason for the existence of the Combined Clans. Never again would the names Kerlin the Hutt or Borga the Hutt be spoken by their families, never again would mention of the Great Massacre be made, never again would the re-divided forces of the former Combined Clans set out to avenge their fallen sons and slay Jarvis Ragnar, or his Wandering Ones.

When Fortune Frowns, only the devoted have the strength to survive; when Fortune Smiles, families are forged, empires are ruined, and the innocent are once again set free.


"Well, that was fun," Zal said, spinning his chair around and looking at Jarvis.

"Coming with me was the stupidest thing you guys have ever done," Jarvis said, looking around at the members of his crew. "If they thought I was lying and decided to vape me, we'd all be dead right now, and there'd be no one to make good on my threat."

"True," Ferril remarked, "but if we distributed those copies, they would have killed us, sooner or later. The objective was to survive."

"Yeah," Zal added, "and if we were all going to die, we might as well have died together, right?"

"True families are ready to die for one another," Allara agreeed as she, too, swept her gaze across the faces of her family. "True families stand together, even when it doesn't make sense."