Please note that all standard disclaimers apply.
One With the Force
by Halagad
Email: HALAGAD@aol.com
*Special thanks to site administrator Zardra who served as my editor for
this work.
Part Three : The Plot Thickens
"We're here. At the planet of Dura-Khan," Norsk Fraylan said.
"I'm meeting a friend and you're coming with me," he continued
casually. "You'll be pleased to know that he's a bounty hunter."
Charisa Thonola stared blankly at Norsk as he stated this. It wasn't until a smug grin spread
across his face that the message completely registered in her mind.
She had been betrayed. Again.
Norsk punctuated the point with a clang as the cockpit door closed and locked shut.
Charisa was trapped.
Again.
The prisoner decided to skip the verbal degradation that she usually bestowed upon those
that took advantage of her and went straight to denouncing her own
existence, as well as that of every other sentient life form. She was a wretched creature and
it was the despicable beings of the galaxy that had driven her to such a state. She knew she should
not have let her guard down, should not have let her feelings play the domineering role in her decision to trust this
"smuggler." But from the moment the handsome stranger had taken her hand, she had found it
difficult to dislike him. In his proximity, Charisa felt strangely
at ease, even in the midst of their calamitous escape from the prison cell. It was only until Norsk
had gone to the cockpit to fly the ship that she had been able to build her paranoia back up to its usual mean.
She regretted not taking Fraylan's blaster during the "rescue" and blowing a little salvation through his cranium.
After a few moments, her anxiety quickly replaced her depression and the disheveled young
woman rose from her seat in irrelevant quiet -- the bounty hunter probably had cameras set up
everywhere to keep an eye on his victims. But sitting still and
just waiting for him to stun or cuff
her would do no good. She would simply have to proceed with extreme caution, a skill in which
she had more than sufficient practice.
Looking over the living quarters, Charisa furtively searched for anything she might use as
a means of escaping.
The compartment was fairly bare. There was a holo-chess table and some wide dark
chairs, a stump of a refrigerator, and a sofa so worn out-looking
it could give the Emperor a run
for his money. All were pretty effective for crushing the life out of someone, unfortunately
mal-nutrition had left Charisa's petite body lacking in strength.
Besides, they were all bolted tothe deck. Charisa looked around some more.
In the refrigerator she found a bottle of Harlekan Johte and
another of well-aged Norvanian
grog. Even as she picked up one of the containers, however, she
realized that neither would be of
any use. The way Norsk had been taking out guards in the prison, she was sure he could easily
shoot the bottle out of the air before it even got near his head.
That meant getting in close for a
decent swing, but both of the bottles were too large to conceal.
Her nurtured pessimism was on the verge of setting back in when Charisa spotted a slew of
spliced wires hanging out of a removed wall plate near the floor. Though it had been the
convolution of spectral colors from the thin cables that had caught her eye, it was the lonely
fusioncutter that held her attention.
With a casualness almost too natural for its own sake, Charisa
made her way toward the area
and clandestinely confiscated the item. The maneuver taught to her by her father -- No, not
"Father" anymore -- was honed from years of practice: with her right foot she moved the
fusioncutter onto the inner side of her left boot, continuing the
initial motion, and with the grace
of a Twi'lek dancer and the illusiveness of a Stennes shapeshifter,
raised the tool to her right hand.
Her baggy pants helped conceal her nervousness, but living a life
branded as a lunatic had forced
Charisa into perfecting her thievery skills. During the Sharin spaceport's
slowest hours, she could
easily pull off the trick wearing nothing more than a Zeltron's beach
outfit, by no means a modesttask.
Surreptitiously thumbing the activation switch, she filled with
renewed hope as the tool came
to life. Concealing the glow as best as she could, Charisa watched
with satisfaction as the tip of
the cutter began to gleam white hot. It was ironic how these bounty hunters always brought out
the best in her.
Mister Norsk Fraylan would soon find out that she was no easy prey.
"Dura-Khan Control, this is Queen of Air and Darkness," Norsk said, giving one of his ship's
pseudonyms. "Requesting permission to land."
"Please stand by, Queen," a female traffic controller said.
Norsk had previously prepared the telesponder on the Avenged
with the proper identification
code. The last time the Belderonian smuggler had come to Dura-Khan, he had had a little
accident involving the Imperial Prefect Holow Santt. He certainly
didn't want the humorless son
of a sow on his back as soon as he touched upon the ground.
As he waited for confirmation to land, Norsk watched the single vid-screen he had that
showed the living area. The girl Charisa was searching through his refrigerator, probably for
something to eat.
Poor girl, the blond-haired smuggler laughed to himself. I
probably shouldn't have teased herabout Joei being a bounty hunter.
Joei Herndez was one of the best ID splicers in the business, considering the price he
charged and especially the fact that he had acquired a unique physical neurosis early on in his
lifetime, one that bacta couldn't cure. Even standing for extended
periods caused him to twitch
and shake wildly at times, but when the Tin-Tin Dwarf got down to business, his hands and eyes
were as steady as the music notes Maxa Jandovar played on her vandfill. Joei had recently
become one of Norsk's most loyal customers, and the smuggler, in turn, one of his. Norsk had
sent him a message just before contacting the Dura-Khan traffic control stating that Charisa would need
to get fixed up with a new identity right away.
The short and furry being had at one time flown into a spontaneous frenzy due to his
ailment. In the process, he had foiled the escape of an old woman,
wanted by the Empire, by the
name of Vima-Da-Boda. Joei now jokingly fashioned himself a splicer with a fetish for "the
Hunt."
Norsk had no need for the credits offered for Charisa's capture; he had more than enough
money stashed away and collecting interest in the main Intergalactic Corsa Bank on Imperial
Center. Norsk Fraylan was of the stuff from which fringe myths sprung, the type of individual
that kept the romance of smuggling alive. He'd even go as far as
to say he was almost on par in the Inner Rim systems with the legendary "Boyscout" Bey Malhado -- though out here on the
backwaters of the galaxy was a different story. He had been one of the few contrabandists who
had made a killing off a risky job and had been able to retire off
of it, alive, at a ripe age. He came
back, of course; the ensuing boredom that his mercenary associate Rancer Muldoon had warned
Norsk of eventually became unbearable. But now it appeared as if he had found more excitement
than he had intended, or cared for. The smuggler did indeed know who Horas Tarin was;
admitting it to the delirious young woman would have only served to further destabilize her
already volatile persona. Horas Tarin was a very major player in the Colonies region, easily
within the league of Bengis and Begas Tok and quickly approaching the status of a Rethorn or
Jabba. If Tarin wanted his daughter back, or anyone for that matter,
chances were good he would
get what he desired. It was a miracle Charisa had managed to stay alive this long.
Norsk turned his attention back to the wanted female and sighed. Even if he had known she
was a crime boss's daughter and that he had placed a bounty on her head, Norsk still would
have freed her. There was something about the young woman . . . something that brought
warmth to Norsk Fraylan's heart . . . .
"Hey! Watch it!" The smuggler scolded her holo-image as Charisa
fumbled with his bottle ofJohte, nearly dropping it.
"Queen," the traffic controller finally responded, "you are
registered to land on pad 263." She
proceeded to give Norsk a set of coordinates and a not-so-subtle warning to avoid deviation.
"Thanks, Control," Norsk said, dispensing with the various distractions and shifting his
concentration back to flying.
A picture of Charisa clumsily shattering his favorite intoxicant
forced its way into his head. He
hoped that girl appreciated everything he was doing for her.
Charisa held the tip of the deactivated fusioncutter to the wall
and watched as the tool burnt a
small hole through it. She would need to keep it on for as long
as possible so that it would be hot
enough to do damage, while deactivated, to her kidnapper.
This hunter was in for a surprise.
**********
"Where in the hell's my bounty?" the hunter spat at the sad-faced militiaman.
The woman who stood in front of Lieutenant Colonel Niro Peetj -- Amaiza, Mcgrrrr had
called her -- was one of the most striking people he had ever seen.
Her silver hair was worn up in
thick curls that cascaded down to the end of her neck. She wore carmine boots that reached up
to her knees and a matching outfit that loudly suggested a Zeltron
tailor, abundantly revealing herform in various places.
Being a Givin, Niro Peetj didn't much care for "fleshies;" seeing
this much exposed flesh for
this long a period would have normally elicited a nauseous reaction.
But for some odd reason, he
found this human female not only tolerable but appealing.
He found the thought paradoxically revolting.
But she did have a wonderful aroma about her . . . .
Lieutenat Colonel Peetj then saw that she was staring at him,
still awaiting an answer. Her
eyes were not typical of humans; they were a light orange, slashed through the center with a
vertically elongated pupil. They were very similar to those of the
rarely seen feline Horansi race,
but knowing of that species' seclusion and aversion to cross-breeding,
Niro Peetj decided that it
was just as probable that she carried the genes of a Hutt.
As the Givin continued to marvel at this creature, he noticed for the
first time the dual
Merr-Sonn "Power" 5's that rested on each side of her hips. As if on cue,
Amaiza released the
safeties on each weapon in tandem.
Clearing his head of the illogic of admiring this person, the skinless
leader of the Gorind
Militia tried to put forward all the strength and confidence that his position
usually instilled in him.
He spoke with the extreme bluntness his species was known for, "The prisoner
has escaped,
bounty hunter."
"This I know," Amaiza said, regaining her composure. She gracefully
strode to and sat in
the seat opposite the Captain's desk, reinforcing the former of his two suspicions
as to the origins
of her predecessors. "I would like to know how, and to where, Captain."
"She had an accomplice," Peetj said quickly, shaken by the hunter.
"A male, human. He
broke into the prison and freed her. Then they both escaped in his ship,
a YT-2400, registered as
the Avenged. We're assuming he's a smuggler."
The action of a human contorting its face, as Amaiza did when he said
this, was an
amusing one to Peetj, since he could do no such thing in his incarnality.
"Is that so? A smuggler," Amaiza repeated, seeming annoyed. "A lone
smuggler broke
into your high security prison, kidnaped the girl, disposed of a quarter
of your people, and
escaped unhurt?"
The skeletal Givin wondered where she had found out about the casualties,
but said nothing.
"You place a homing beacon in all of your prisoners in case of escape,"
the hunter
continued. "Where is the tracker on Tarin?"
Here we go. "She wasn't fitted with one," Niro said. "A large group
of terrorists calling
themselves the Fellowship of Koroo assaulted this facility just prior to
her capture. Their capture
and implantation took priority. We weren't able to get the girl into the
surgery room."
Another irritated glance crossed Amaiza's face. It lingered for a long
time and Niro Peetj
feared she was going to pull one, or both, of her blasters on him.
He was disappointed in either regard. Instead, the bounty hunter pulled
another object from
her boot and aimed it at the militiaman.
A disruptor.
Niro Peetj froze in absolute terror.
A mere second; it was all the time the stupefied Givin was allowed to
contemplate the effect
the weapon would have upon his person. Amaiza fired at Captain Peetj. The
specifically
calibrated blast struck his left arm, disintegrating the limb at the molecular
level, from bony
fingertips to shoulder joint. The pain he felt was the most tremendous sensation
that Niro had
ever experienced. He let out an incredibly deep and hollow scream, his perpetually
sad features
making it seem as if he were the tortured undead coming painfully to life.
"Black Hole does not pay you for incompetence," Amaiza said, placing
the disruptor back in
its hiding spot.
The bounty hunter rose from her chair. Leaving the suffering Givin
behind, she headed for
the exit, ending: "Pray I don't return here to finish what I started."
Several minutes later, Niro Peetj's first visitor reappeared.
An intimidating being stepped out from the shadows. Boushh, in his fearsome
Ubese
armor, held a wicked looking spear in his spike-gloved right hand, and several
bandoliers around
his torso jangled with dangerous explosives and strange devices. The alien
helmet that allowed
him to breathe noxious oxygenated air made his voice sound metallic as he
spoke in his native
tongue, "Well done, Captain."
Captain Peetj only continued repeating, "My arm, my arm," protesting
pain to a limb that
no longer existed.
Boushh had been contracted by a wealthy human named Green -- though
his lackeys
Chorh-dha and Vimriss always fronted for him -- to buy off the head militiaman
of Gorind and
bring him the daughter of Horas Tarin. Boushh had known of Opun Mcgrrrr's
control of the
Gorind militia as well as of his cultivated hate for Horas. The Ubese had
also correctly suspected
that "The Black Hole" would send his most competent hunter Amaiza, and Boushh
had
relinquished to the inevitability of a showdown.
The amateur bounty hunter who had broken into Janara Tarin's cell, however,
had been a wild
card in Boushh's favor. With the promise of a substantial amount of credits,
the Ubese hunter
had easily convinced the Givin to let Janara Tarin escape as well as deceive
Amaiza. Now
Boushh would be the only one who knew where to find the bounty; the amateur
would be simple
enough to dispose of. And as a bonus, the Ubese would be able to demand
even more credits
than his usual price exaggeration by claiming Peetj's fee as an expenditure.
"Give me the tracker," he commanded.
The miserable Captain Peetj pulled the tracker from a drawer in his
desk, still complaining
about his missing appendage. Boushh snatched the device from his hand.
He looked at the
contrivance then nodded with contentment. He then turned to the wailing
Givin, "By the
Brotherhood, do yourself a favor and get a prosthetic."
**********
Indi trod heavily down the steps to his underground dwelling. The Sullustan
bartender walked
down the only portion of his home that was visible from the surface, a long
corridor of grey stairs
of which only the first few short permacrete slabs were visible in the wan
moonlight.
A few steps after the darkness of the passage became too noticeable
to ignore and
paranoia too dense to keep in, Indi saw the sickly glow of his porch light.
The Sullustan removed
his key-code card from the inside of his vest's left pocket and slipped it
in the key slot. The door
slid slowly aside with all the welcome of a regurgitating Whipid.
Upon entering his abode, the square shouldered being tossed his jacket
and stained vest
onto the floor, then proceeded to take the same course of action with his
body. Indi dropped into
his Lazy-Humanoid repulsor chair, a few pounds heavier with the guilt of
his actions.
A traitor, Charisa had called him; she had been right too. Indi's sole
purpose in
befriending the poor woman had been to eventually exploit her.
Loyalty was expensive these days, especially when it was Mcgrrrr who
chose your
friends.
Opun "The Black Hole" Mcgrrrr was the leader of the Black Hole pirate
gang from the Ison
Corridor out in the Delphon system. He may have been a minor crime boss,
but he was big
enough for Indi, both literally and metaphorically. Black Hole's greed was
as insatiable as the
phenomena his name represented. The only currency he dealt in besides credits
and vouchers was
blood, and since his mother Hethra had taken the Final Jump, the gluttonous
Corellian had
inherited the power and muscle to collect on either type of debt.
And Indi had recently been put on the lifetime payment plan.
The jowl mouthed Sullustan, now nearly drowning in sorrow, bent down
and reached
under the repulsor chair with the twisted fingers of his right hand, pulling
out from the ice box
there a cool bottle of Merezane Gold. The stuff was expensive . . . and
exceptional. Indi had
decided that if he was going to feel bad about what he had done, he might
as well feel good doing
it. He took a healthy swig of the drink. And several more.
Time passed. He thought back to when Mcgrrrr had fired Indi from his
employment as a
bodyguard, the vengeful stunt he had pulled on Opun back in the Holiday Towers
Hotel and
Casino on Cloud City that landed him in this forsaken position, and that
bounty hunter that had
crippled his hand and brought him in--
Indi wasn't sure how long he had been in the chair when he caught the
scent . . . .
Nolath number 12.
The fragrance was like thousands of other "you'll-be-irresistible's,"
except this one had
embedded itself in Indi's brain like a kheilwar. It was a subtle, sickly
sweet smell reminiscent of
lumni-spice. Nolath number 12 in itself, didn't have any particularly strong
pheromonal qualities,
but once in a thousand generations a sentient found the perfect companion
to its biology.
Indi knew of only one.
Amaiza's sensual form stepped into Indi's view. The Sullustan was quite
drunk by this
time, but he knew a few things for certain: he should have heard her coming
before he smelt her;
the bounty hunter didn't have Charisa with her; and the Jenet borg Vengra
usually dealt with Indi
since Amaiza became Den-mother of the Black Hole gang.
And Amaiza really hated dealing with Indi.
Conclusion: stang.
"I'ya Amazonia," Indi purposely mangled her name.
He was still chuckling inwardly at his own pronunciation when the bartender
realized he was
now on the business end of the woman's Merr-Sonn 5 blaster.
"Where are they, Mousy?" the bounty hunter snarled.
"W'er 'n da core are ooh?" This didn't look good at all.
"Don't play stupid with me, Sullustan. Janara Tarin and her rescuer.
Yaman saw you
talking to the very same guy at the bar."
Indi should have guessed. Yaman was the drunk Duros that he had refused
to serve earlier
that day in the cantina when he had been talking to that human, Fraylan.
Fraylan had had such a
commanding presence about him, an aura of strength that Indi had felt compelled
to tell him about
Charisa's situation in the hopes that he could do something to help. In
retrospect, it was a silly
thought, and a dangerous one. Occasionally working as the local spaceport
information broker,
Yaman must have overheard the conversation.
The flat-faced Duros had been the one who had sold Indi the warning
that Opun Mcgrrrr was
out for his hide after all these years. Yaman was also the one who had sold
out the Sullustan's
location to Amaiza a few days later. Needless to say, he enjoyed giving
Indi trouble.
"Dat guy wuz jus'a smug'er, " Indi said his speech even more incomprehensible
than
usual. "Ey wuz jus' makin' tauk wit --"
Amaiza cut him off, smashing the butt of her blaster on his head, "For
the sake of the
Mother Hethra, if you can't speak the language don't try," she said, implying
Indi's Basic accent --
an amalgamation of Corulagan, High Galactic, Mandalorian, Alderaanian and
a half-dozen other
dialects from various worlds.
Indi felt warm blood trickle into his pupiless left eye. Indi could
have retaliated, but he
wasn't witless. True, he may have been bigger -- width-wise anyway -- and
stronger, but an
intoxicated brawler was no match for a trained assassin, "I wuz on'y havin'a
con'rsashun with
'im," he drawled in Sullustan. "He liked dee guurl."
"That's very interesting, you see because this smuggler broke into Tarin's
prison cell and
escaped with her, with half the militia coming after them," Amaiza let silence
pervade the room.
The huntress' exotic ochre eyes glazed over with a cool blue value.
Indi began to perspire.
"Now," she continued, "are you sure this man isn't a bounty hunter .
. . one who by
chance may deposit a large sum of money into your account after he cashes
in the bounty on
Horas Tarin's daughter?"
"Yesss, Amazoni! I swe'r't on my life!" Indi squeaked.
"No. For your life Mousy, you'd better tell me where the smuggler was
going."
Under the watchful eye of Amaiza's Power 5, Indi nervously began to
access the
depths of his long term memory.
**********
Norsk landed the Avenged on the designated docking pad. He shut off most
of the ship's
systems and proceeded to leave the cockpit, opening the door to the living
quarters to greet his
guest.
It was the opportunity Charisa had been awaiting. Like a bloodsniffer
waiting to pounce, the
prisoner whipped the super-heated fusioncutter from her hand at her would-be
captor with the
strength of a ryyk blade-wielding Wookiee.
The smile from Norsk Fraylan's face quickly evaporated as he saw the
durasteel cutting
instrument whirling toward him like the deadly lightsaber of Darth Vader
himself.
With a loud smack, the butt of the cutter hit Norsk directly on the
forehead above the
right eye, snapping his head back.
"Ow!" he yelled. "Cripes, Charisa! What in the hell are you doing?"
But the young woman was already gone, opening the boarding ramp to escape.
Norsk pressed the palm of his hand on the forming bump on his head as
he rushed to her,
swearing the entire way. Just as Charisa Thonola was heading out, Norsk
wrapped his arms
around her. The anguished girl held on with all her strength to the sides
of the opening,
screaming and kicking like a woman mad -- which she might very well be.
She was able to stomp
the upper half of Norsk's leg with her heel, then landed a blow to his chin.
The smuggler fell to
the ground, releasing her.
Charisa scrambled out of the ship.
Getting up from his fallen position, Norsk clenched his jaw with his
hand and cautiously
tested it. Reassured it was still working, he called out, "No Charisa!
Please!"
The escapee had already distanced the ship by several decameters. In
mid stride, Charisa
heard Norsk's cry, and to even her surprise she abruptly stopped. A wave
of sadness rolled over
her, his words striking with a desperate sincerity. She tried to argue with
herself that he was
only trying to befriend her to betray her . . . like Indi. But she continued
to hear his pleas as he
neared, and it became increasingly difficult to rationalize the fears that
engulfed her. In a state of
utter confusion and anguish, Charisa dropped in a pile onto the ground.
When Norsk finally caught up with her, he found Charisa slumped, kneeling
on the floor,
her legs crossed. She was breathing heavily and convulsively. The smuggler
knelt down beside
her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
Releasing the little control he had of the Force, Norsk allowed the
mystical energy to flow
uninhibited into the woman's tortured soul.
**********
In the small domicile on Dura-Khan that belonged to an ID splicing Tin-Tin
Dwarf, Joei Herndez
lied dead, burnt to a crisp.
"Whoosh!" a creature of the same species as Joei cried. "Puggles loves
explosions!"
"Was that completely necessary?" Zardra asked contemptuously in her
familiar tone of
aristocracy. "It wasn't as if he would have given us any trouble."
"We don't need any extraneous variables botching things up," said the
bounty hunter in
Mandalorian armor, quoting his ex-commander. "I stop mistakes before they
start. That's why
I'm the best."
"Right, darling," his female accomplice retorted. Her cloak mocked
her movement as she
turned to face him, "And that's why you make yourself up to be Fett out here
in the Outer Rim?"
Puggles Trodd snickered, "Actually, that hunter Alfreda Goot wears --"
Jodo Kast turned his helmeted head toward his short rodent-like associate.
Even through
the visor, Trodd could feel Kast's glance of pure anger. The Tin-Tin Dwarf
went silent, deciding
to keep to himself the fact that Jodo wasn't even the first bounty hunter
to imitate Fett.
Kast then turned his menacing stare on Zardra, who met his gaze evenly,
keeping a ready hand
on her force pike. She was a warrior after all, bred for the hunt. She
was glad, nonetheless, when
Kast turned his attention away from her and back to the task at hand. Though
Jodo was indeed
an excellent hunter, with the armor his appearance was nearly identical to
that of Boba Fett.
Zardra's brief encounter with the genuine article had left her with a psychological
scar, as she
assumed most who had dealt with Fett could also attest to having.
"You sure this'll work?" Trodd began to recoil. "Puggles really hates
dying."
"Don't stress yourself, Puggles." Jodo Kast patronized him, "Your whole
species looks
alike."
"But he's much older than me, and --" Trodd argued, pointing at the
burnt husk that remained
of Joei, "he was from the jungles of East Arzid. I'm obviously from South."
Kast decided not to dignify the objection with a response. Puggles
was a good demolitions
expert, maybe one of the best. But his cowardice really got on Jodo's nerves.
"Don't worry," Zardra told Trodd, "we just need you to do this in case
this Norsk fellow
doesn't bring the girl with him. So he'll lead you, and us, to her. If
he brings Tarin's daughter,
we'll take them then and there." Zardra was stimulated by the thought of
engaging in combat with
a hunter who had supposedly taken out a fourth of the troops of a planetary
militia, single
handedly.
"Well, whatever the case, if we don't get the girl to Horas Tarin, he's
not going to be
happy," Kast said as he brandished his Czerka slugthrower. "This Yaman guy
better be right
about them being headed to Dura-Khan."
"Oh, he's right, darling," Zardra assured him. "He's right."
To be continued . . .
Boushh is the bounty hunter that Leia disguised herself as in Return of the Jedi when presenting
Chewbacca to Jabba the Hutt. Since that brief pseudo-appearance, Boushh
has been mentioned
in the Shadows of the Empire novel, written by Steve Perry, as having worked
on and off for the
Black Sun crime syndicate and having eventually overstepped his authority.
Boushh is also given
more dimension in the Shadows of the Empire Sourcebook where his background
was fleshed out
as well as in a bit part in the adventure "Elusive" by Chris Hind found in
the Star Wars
role-playing game supplement No Disintegrations. The short story "Bounty's
Due" by Eric S.
Trautman in the Shadows of the Empire Sourcebook tells the tale of Boushh's
demise. It should
be noted that Boba Fett himself regarded Boushh as a competent hunter.
Amaiza originally appeared in the Marvel Comics Star Wars series, issues
8-10, written by Roy
Thomas and Don Glut (presumably the same author of the Empire Strikes Back
novel) and
illustrated by Howard Chaykin and Tom Palmer, and also in issue 16, written
by the late Archie
Goodwin and illustrated by Walt Simonson and Bob Wiacek. She has not been
heard of since.
The first mention of the Black Hole pirate gang from Delphon Way also appeared
in issue 8.
Opun "The Black Hole" Mcgrrrr is a character based on the Scottish actor
who was standing
in for Jabba the Hutt in the original Star Wars footage of Han meeting Jabba
in docking bay 94.
Opun Mcgrrrr was made an "official" character by his inclusion in the story
"Spare Parts" by
Pablo Hidalgo who co-illustrated the tale with Matt Busch, printed in the
Star Wars Adventure
Journal #11.
Puggles Trodd is a character who has appeared only in the role-playing game
adventure
Tatooine Manhunt, written by Bill Slavicsek and Daniel Greenburg, in which
he was the
associate of Jodo Kast and Zardra. Curiously enough, when West End Games
reprinted this
adventure, Puggles species was altered in picture but not in description.
The trio of bounty
hunters went their separate ways after Tatooine Manhunt.
Jodo Kast has received much notoriety since his original appearance in Tatooine
Manhunt. He
has since appeared in Side Trip, the short novel by Timothy Zahn and Michael
A. Stackpole
(printed in both Tales From the Empire and Adventure Journals #12 & #13);
and the excellent
Boba Fett -- Twin Engines of Destruction comic by Andy Mangels and illustrated
by John Nadeau
(printed as a serial in Topps Star Wars Galaxy Magazine 5 -8 and also collected
into one issue by
Dark Horse Comics). He also appeared in the original Movie Trilogy Sourcebook
in a short story
titled "One That Got Away." Here, Kast pursues Doctor Evazan (wanted in 12
systems), who is
saved by Ponda Baba (walrus-faced bully). Kast then vows to capture the
good doctor . This
being the case, it is quite plausible that "Boba Fett", who caught and killed
Evazan on Necropolis
(chronicled in Galaxy of Fear -- City of the Dead by John Whitman), was in
actuality Jodo Kast.
Green is the only human that was one of Xizor's incredibly wealthy "Vigos",
those entrusted by
the Dark Prince to take care of most of the day-to-day operations of the
Black Sun criminal
organization. Green often had one of his lieutenants front for him (usually
Chorh-dha or
Vimriss). This human was briefly mentioned in the novel Shadows of the Empire
where he, like
his employee Boushh, met his end at the hands of Xizor's assassin Guri.
The Vigo that
presumably replaced Green is Xizor's niece who uses plastiforms to appear
to be a human female
(Shadows of the Empire -- Evolution, written by Steve Perry and illustrated
by Ron Randall).
Green is explored more in depth in the Shadows of the Empire Sourcebook.
Zardra appeared in Tatooine Manhunt as well as in the role-playing adventure
Otherspace
which takes place after Manhunt, but she, like Amaiza, has also been missing
in action. There has
been great speculation as to her whereabouts. It was rumored that she died
a warrior's death
fighting the death-bent beings known as the Charon in otherspace. Others
believe this bounty
hunter eventually became tired of her relentless pursuit of the hunt and
ended up the administrator
of her very own site on the HoloNet. Either of these rumors are, however,
unconfirmed.
*Authors note: due to the mention of Jodo Kast, Puggles Trodd, and Zardra
as a bounty hunting
team, as well as Opun Mcgrrrr still being in possession of the Holiday Towers
Hotel and Casino,
(which he lost to Jabba after the events of A New Hope) this story is now
constrained to the time
period preceding Star Wars: Episode IV.
Please feel obligated to comment on the story. I'd appreciate and encourage
any feedback: the
good, the bad, and the Gamorrean.
If anyone out there who is thinking about continuing this story needs some
information on the
backgrounds of these characters, I would be more than happy to help.
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