• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

Before the speeder could stop, one of the stormtroopers jumped out, reaching for his sidearm as he watched Dengar.

Dengar pulled his own heavy blaster and aimed at the stormtrooper. “I wouldn’t try that—not if I wanted to live.”

“Identify yourself!” the stormtrooper said, his voice comm making it sound as if he were talking into a box. His hand remained near his weapon.

“They call me Payback,” Dengar said, using the nickname he thought would be most familiar around here. “Imperial Assassin, Grade One. Now put your hands on your head.”

The stormtrooper put his hands on his head, while the other shut down the speeder and got out. Dengar motioned them both to stand together.

The stormtroopers seemed calm even while surrendering, and Dengar wondered if their faces would look so calm if they were unmasked.

The dancing girl, Manaroo, was indeed lovely. In the console lights of the speeder, he could see her well. She wore a silky outfit of silver over her light blue skin, and luminous tattoos of moons and stars glowed on her wrists and ankles. Her eyes shone in the darkness.

“Who is your target?” one of the stormtroopers asked, obviously thinking that this was an Imperially sanctioned hit.

Dengar wanted them to keep that impression. “Kritkeen. The hit has already been carried out, so there’s nothing you can do to save him.”

“Kritkeen is a COMPNOR officer!” one of the stormtroopers protested. “The Empire wouldn’t sanction such a hit! Where did you get your orders?”

“This isn’t an Imperially sanctioned hit,” Dengar admitted, since the stormtrooper had asked. “I took this job freelance. My employer said he represented a consortium of free beings who wanted to put a stop to the COMPNOR Redesign efforts. I’ve been hired to eradicate ten of your COMPNOR officers.”

The stormtroopers looked at one another, and Dengar saw them tense, ready to spring. He wondered if his threat sounded as ludicrous to them as it did to him. If he really had planned to kill ten COMPNOR officers, he never would have let them know of the threat, but now that he’d spoken the lie, Dengar saw that it would make the Empire worry. They’d have to put some effort into hunting Dengar down. Just as he wanted.

“Now, remove your helmets and toss them into the speeder, then throw in your weapons.”

Both stormtroopers complied. Once they were disarmed and could no longer call for backup, Dengar waved his blaster at them, urging them toward the steep-sided valley below. “Go over the edge, down there, and keep running!”

The stormtroopers hesitated, perhaps fearing that he’d shoot them in the back, so he fired at their feet, sent them running.

He went to the speeder. The dancing girl, Manaroo, watched him with terrified eyes. Her hands were cuffed in front of her. Dengar lifted her hands in the air, held his blaster to the crude chain links, and fired.

“You killed him? You killed Kritkeen?” Manaroo asked. Her voice was strong and gravelly, and seemed strange coming from a woman with such delicate grace.

“He’s dead,” Dengar said, hopping into the driver’s seat of the speeder. He fired the engines, swung the speeder around, and headed back toward the city.

“Then COMPNOR will leave? Abandon their Redesign efforts?” she sounded hopeful.

“No,” Dengar said. He realized that the peaceful people of Aruza had no experience with armies or war. “It doesn’t work that way. When the Empire learns of Kritkeen’s assassination, the next man in line for command will assume his duties, until the Empire sends a new officer. You’ll have another general, harder than Kritkeen, here within a few weeks.”

“Then what can we do?” she asked.

Dengar considered. These people had no weapons, no skill in fighting. “Flee the planet. You’re scheduled for processing tomorrow. Flee the planet tonight.”

“But the Empire has destroyed our ships! There’s no escape!”

He looked back, saw her watching him. There was a look of awe in her eyes, a look of respect for him that he hadn’t seen in anyone’s face for years.