Judyc Viba

It took a small eternity for TeVerd to make his way back to the surface of consciousness. The limited bacta supplies in the first aid stop had started to do their work, but he was worn through and full of holes. He'd been here countless times before over the centuries, but this time it felt different. He was tired. And she'd been there again. In his dreams. Seemed like she had infinite patience, but even he wondered if it had its limits. None of it mattered right now. The large room in which he'd been situated was full of injured soldiers, but there was a clamor coming from outside. A few men were wearing their beskar'game and had weapons pointed at the entryway. TeVerd hauled himself to his feet. At roughly seven feet tall, it was a long way up. "What is it?" he asked. Speaking hurt. "Kyr'tsad," a nearby soldier said. "They took the spaceport and now they're coming after the wounded." The ancient Seeker made a sound almost like a growl. No time to armor up. He grabbed a long beskad from his pile of equipment, its blade notched and battered from years of use, and strapped on his gunbelt. The sound of blaster fire was steadily getting closer. He had a slight wheeze from his injured lung as he headed for the hallway. "Stay here and keep these men safe," he ordered the soldier. His face was a scowl as he headed up the hall. Hitting a first aid center was low even for the Death Watch. He approached a corner and he heard bootfalls on the other side. He paused. The footfalls were cautious. One man here with more farther back. Hostile, not retreating. He tensed. The man rounded the corner, blaster rifle first. Death Watch, dark gray armor. TeVerd lunged and cut the rifle in two with a powerful strike. His opponent dropped it and went for his sidearm. TeVerd struck again, severing the man's arm at the elbow, then a third time across his throat. Two more men came charging around the next corner. TeVerd grabbed the body of his first enemy and used it to catch two incoming shots. The third shot tore up his right side along the base of his ribcage. He grabbed the man's sidearm and returned fire, putting a bolt in each leg of one target. The other popped back around his corner and then, a moment later, a grenade came bouncing down the hall. TeVerd ripped the helmet off the dead man and lunged, slamming it down over the grenade. It detonated an instant later, blowing the visor out and sending a shockwave through TeVerd's body that popped one of his rifle wounds open. He charged forward nonetheless, rounded the corner and rammed his beskad through a seam in the grenadier's chestplate until he felt the point hit the backplate, then tore it back out and brought it down on his other crippled target who was nonetheless going for a weapon. There were three more Death Watch troopers beyond the two he'd just killed. They opened fire. One of the bolts caught TeVerd on the left knee and one along his right forearm before he could get back behind the corner for cover. The hallway was filling with smoke and he coughed against the wall, then smeared the resulting splatter of purplish blood away with his hand. He tested his left leg and found it could no longer support him. He was missing a chunk of flesh from his right arm. His sword was on the ground, so with his left hand he grabbed his hunting knife from his belt. Kneeling, he waited as a few more blaster bolts struck the wall, keeping him pinned in place. A few seconds later, two of his three assailants came charging around, blades drawn. TeVerd threw himself at one of them, feeling the man's beskad enter his body on the left side around his liver even as he brought his knife under the man's armpit, dragging it through flesh down to around his belt, feeling each rib split in turn. As the man dropped, the remaining rifleman had a clear shot and took it. A blaster bolt burned through TeVerd's chest on the opposite side from the blade still lodged there and his strength gave out, his knife clattering to the floor as he landed in a sitting position. The two Death Watch troopers gave him one more look to make sure he was staying down and then moved past him toward the infirmary. TeVerd pulled the sword out of his chest and heard the remaining air whistle out of his lungs. As his eyes glassed over there rose before them the image of a blue-haired woman as though she were rushing to meet him. He lifted a hand as if to touch the side of her face. Guess I kept you waiting long enough, Babs. His strength failed and his hand struck the crimson-and-purple stained floor. He closed his eyes a final time, confident in the legacy he was leaving behind for the Sector and the galaxy.

Judyc looked down at her. His face appeared calm but his eyes betrayed that she'd struck a nerve. His voice was equal parts ice and fire. "You are going to regret saying that," he said through gritted teeth, drawing his knife again. The Kyr'tsad looked over her body, then slowly used the knife to cut open the front of her trousers. He then yanked the waistband down a few inches, baring skin. "Kandor Fett will never be a father," he said, then plunged his knife at an upwards angle into her body around the level of the center of her pelvic bone. He held the knife there for a second before finally withdrawing it, its serrated edge doing further damage. Judyc looked at the medical droid. "I forgive you if she passes out. Just keep her alive," he said, leaving the room after dropping the bloodied knife on the counter.

Crossing his arms, Judyc gave her a haughty laugh. "Sure, how about I just let you go, walk away from my life's work and apologize to Kandor and pretend we're all one big happy aliit," he said. "You, me, and all your Seeker friends, like that pathetic hut'uun TeVerd who wasn't even there the protect you and your parents when we came for you. And ShadowFett, the great Mandalore who kicked the Kyr'tsad off of Manda'yaim, never knowing his buir is a Viba. Guess I did a pretty good job raising him a True Mandalorian." The medical droid started to clean and dress Mirdala's fresh wound so she didn't bleed out or die from infection. "You're still young. There's a lot you don't understand about how men like Kandor and I work," he said. "I'd say you'll learn, but you'll be dead as soon as Ab'ki finally decides to put you out of your misery. She's a real piece of work. You'll like her even less than you like me."

Judyc stared at her like she was a misbehaving child. "Do you take me for an idiot? Still trying to protect his identity?" The beroya sighed. "Let me tell you another story," he began. "This one goes back even farther. BakToid didn't even exist yet, much less you. I'm a strapping young lad in the first few years of a promising career as a beroya. Between jobs I was spending time with my aliit -- the ones I could still tolerate, anyway -- on Concord Dawn. But along comes this gang of 'True Mandalorians' trying to sniff out the big bad Kyr'tsad clan rumored to be in the area. Got it in their heads that if they can find us, they'll wipe us out or evict us or some osik. "Anyway, their raiding party is pretty big and my buir's looking for some way to take them down without a stand up fight, so I volunteer to get on the inside and start feeding him information so we can figure out how to catch them at unawares and put them down," he explained. Judyc paused for a moment. "I manage to pass as an informant for the gang well enough, and the gig goes on for a few weeks. Thing was, some of them were actually decent verde and, well, of course there was this girl." He stared off into space for a moment, then checked the medical droid to make sure it was keeping Mirdala's dosage steady. "Dark hair, these piercing blue eyes like you've never seen. I saw in her a... an undeniable nobility, I suppose. It was shabla frustrating how certain she was that she was doing the right thing, but I was smitten." He looked back down at Mirdala. "It was a pity that she forced me to put a knife in her to protect my aliit," he said darkly. "But before I did I made a promise. Disappear for a while, raise a son like she and I might have had together. A True Mandalorian, a hint at what I might have been in another lifetime. I knew that this son and I would inevitably end up on opposite sides, so as soon as he was ready to set off on his own into the greater galaxy, I faked my death, deciding it would be better to keep my distance than force myself to kill my lover a second time by violating my promise." A hint of anger entered his eyes. "It worked great until now. When of all the men in the oyu'baat, he's the one you end up with. It's sickening... I thought at first I could warn him off, but he really fell head over heels for you, didn't he?" Judyc was practically growling now. "On Nar Shaddaa I realized that there is no other way. You put my own son Kandor in the position where he will hunt me and everything I built to extinction unless I kill him first." His anger was building, but he remained locked down, his eyes deadly as he picked up his knife from the table. "And now you're going to learn the same lesson that the woman I once loved did." He took the knife, put the tip in the fresh burn he'd given her, and twisted it, puncturing the damaged skin and watching her blood trickle out onto the table. "No one comes between me and my aliit and lives. I only regret that I have to let Ab'ki do the honors if I'm going to get paid."

The medical droid called Judyc back into the room when Mirdala came back around. "Do try to keep her awake from now on," he said to the beskar'ad. "I will endeavor to do so, sir," it assured him. Judyc stepped over to the nearby counter and picked up the beskad'ika that had been confiscated from Mirdala's boot. "Beautiful knife," he said. "Just like your father's." He turned to face her. "Maybe you don't realize how long I've been looking for you, little Mird'ika," the Kyr'tsad began conversationally. "Shab, I was working for BakToid a long time before Ab'ki ever entered the picture. They had a huge price out on the head of some brat they'd practically cooked up in a lab. They somehow lost her during a raid by some Mandalorians in an amazing display of incompetence. Usually the way these things go is the child either gets killed or turned in to some orphanage and it's almost impossible to find it, but this was one special little girl. Years later I meet this shabuir named Fieyr and he gets to talking about you. I almost couldn't believe my ears, but you had to be BakToid's little pet project, turned up over a decade after the trail had gone cold. "Best part was, Fieyr coughs up the location of this little farm on Shogun and is none the wiser about the BakToid bounty. So I put together a team, we dress up as ConSec goons, and pay a little visit. "Jorbe and Cyare," he continued, shaking his head and giving a short laugh. "Big damn heroes they thought they were, throwing away their lives for you. Some shabla orphan he'd picked up fifteen years prior. All he had to do was turn her in and they would both still be alive." He scoffed at Mirdala. "I wonder if they'd think it was worth it if they saw what's become of you now, that it was all for nothing." He stood over her, a cruel glint in his eye. "But sticking up for you wasn't the thing that sickened me -- it's how little fight they had in them. Your old man Jorbe took a lot of abuse before he died, but I didn't even get a good scrap out of it. Not even when I burned his wife alive in her home." Judyc feigned a thoughtful look. "I wonder if you would shriek like your mother did." He produced from his belt a small lighter and flicked on the flame. Slowly, he lowered in to her left bicep and held it there until her skin blistered. He shrugged, then tossed the lighter over to the bench as though bored of the activity. "Anyway, you managed to disappear, but imagine my surprise when you killed a dar'jetii two years later and his lover turns out to have pockets almost as deep as her desire to torture you to death. Ab'ki is a creep, but who am I to turn down her credits? At least you get to join your buire -- after your boyfriend Kandor dies trying to rescue you, of course."

<< A transmission comes in for ShadowFett from Nubia. >>

"The subject is awake, sir," the medical droid announced as Judyc walked over. "She was unarmed except for a knife in her boot, which I confiscated." The beroya moved until he stood over her, his shadow falling upon her restrained body. "Well hello, Mirdala Ad'Goran. I'm Judyc Viba, and I'd like to welcome to the last days of your life," he said. His voice was deep, a bit gravelly, betraying his age. He looked at the droid. "What did the bioscan turn up?" "She has a mechanical implant behind her right near, near the base of the hairline," the beskar'ad reported. Its voice was clinical and even, maybe just a bit soothing, in sharp contrast to its owner's. "Ah, no doubt it has an implanted comm system," Viba mused. "Well, this will do well enough. How are her sedative levels?" "As ordered, sir. She will be able to feel and speak but it should take the edge off her fight." Judyc took one of the overhead cameras and repositioned it directly over Mirdala's head, but zoomed back enough that his arms and shoulders would be in the shot but not his head or face. Then he hit a button to start a recording. "Hello, ShadowFett," he began. "As you can see, I have Ad'Goran, just like I told you I would, though she's quite alive at the moment." As if to demonstrate, the beroya struck her across the jaw with his gauntleted hand, eliciting a reaction from her and causing a small laceration on her chin from the edge of his beskar plate. "Let me tell you what's going to happen. You're to come alone to the coordinates included in this transmission immediately. If you take more than eight hours, I will kill her. If I get even a hint that you brought someone with you, I will kill her. You may wear your armor, but you are to come unarmed. If you bring any weapons and I detect them, I will kill her. "And don't expect her to be able to use her implant to tell you what I have planned," he said. The Kyr'tsad produced a curved beskar knife with a blade about six inches long. Standing at Mirdala's side, he put his left hand on her forehead and banged her head once against the table to daze her, then forcefully turned it and pushed it flat against the surface, the palm of his hand against her temple. He growled at her. "Unless you're ready to die right now, I suggest you hold still." He then inserted the knife into the soft tissue near the base of her hairline and proceeded to make a sawing motion as the cut the device from her head, her blood dripping onto the table and collecting in the grooves of the metal blade. She struggled in her restraints but he held her head still until the job was done. Finally he picked up the implant and held it up to the camera, still glistening red, even as it triggered its emergency protocols and fried its internal circuits to prevent it from being compromised. "See you soon," he said to the camera, then cut the recording. He called in another of his droids. "Eighty-eight, take this recording and send it as well as our location to ShadowFett. You -- medical droid. Make sure she doesn't bleed out, and begin localized bacta treatment on the wound. We're going to have to keep her going for a while to get our money's worth." The droids hustled to get to their tasks.

A freighter belonging to Judyc Viba rocketed out of hyperspace over the Core World Nubia and descended towards the outskirts of Rordis City, the site of his closest safehouse to Corellia and one that was fully stocked for what he was about to do. His cargo was Mirdala Ad'Goran, the oldest and most hated enemy of his employer, a Twi'lek dar'jetii named Ab'ki. As a result, she was perhaps the most valuable cargo he'd ever hauled, and hot enough that it would have made plenty of sense to take her straight to Serenno and collect immediately. But Viba had some unpleasant business to take care of first, and it put him in a foul mood even despite the monetary windfall he'd earned today. Judyc landed his ship on the docking platform attached to his 13th-floor residence. The place was an expansive condo the size of a large house, with enough space to house everything he needed if he had to go to ground even for months, and it had a beskar'ad staff maintaining and running the place. The most important room right now was the med center, where he had a medical droid and a suite of scanners and tools so that he could recover from any injury he sustained in the field without needing to use a public hospital. Presently he carried Mirdala's unconscious form out of the freighter and into that room, where he put her on the operating table, which was outfitted with a full set of restraints, which he immediately went about fastening around Ad'Goran. The medical droid approached him. "Welcome, Master Viba. What is the nature of your visit, and how many I help?" The Kyr'tsad rifled through some nearby supplies. "First off, you are to keep this woman alive at any cost," he said. "She's worth more than this whole complex. I want you to administer a light dosage of sedatives. She needs to be able to feel pain and I need her to be able to speak, so it needs to be just enough to slow her down." He had medical training, but Mirdala was a small patient and he figured it was better to let the beskar'ad handle it. He also knew that the restraints would most likely be more than enough to keep her down, but there was no such thing as overkill. "Yes, sir," the droid said. He'd long wiped out from its programming any sense of morality it might have as a medical professional. Which would be necessary for what was coming. "Let me know when the stun effect wears off and she wakes up. Search her thoroughly for weapons and do a full bioscan so there are no surprises," he said. "I have other preparations to make." So saying the beroya stalked off to change into his red and orange beskar'gam and find the tools he would need for what he had planned. A crate of stun grenades. Droids from the training center and real weapons to give them.

"We're greatly in your debt, Kida," Judyc Viba answered, shaking her hand. He had a convincing smile on his hardened features, but in his mind repeating the lyrics of an old Mandalorian drinking song so that her danger sense wouldn't alert her to what was really going on. Suddenly he gripped the small woman's hand more tightly and yanked it across her body to spin her around while his left hand produced a small holdout blaster pistol. He put two stun bolts into her back kidney-level and she dropped like a sack of rocks. The Kyr'tsad looked down a the boy by his feet. "You did real good, kid," he said, producing a credit chip worth more than what the kid probably saw in a month and tossing it to him. Over the past few weeks since the report he'd received that put ShadowFett in the local grocery store, he'd been slowly working the area, monitoring Fett's and Mirdala's movements, looking to catch her alone. It had taken the Wookiee jetii forever to leave, but by the time he had, Judyc had a significant number of eyes, both organic and digital, watching the whole area. Getting the help of a local street urchin to lure Ad'Goran to this location had been the easy part once she'd finally gone out alone. He could always trust the law enforcement types to feel sorry for some random lost child. Presently he scooped Mirdala's limp body up off the duracrete and carried her to his backup ship, a small freighter outfitted with prisoner cages, and took off. This was just the beginning. There was a lot to do before he would finally turn her over to Ab'ki for whatever sick ends the dar'jetii had in mind for her. His freighter disappeared into hyperspace for a short jump to Nubia, where everything was pretty much ready to go.

Over his career, which was extremely long for a beroya, Judyc had built up an enormous number of contacts and assets, both people and machines, spread out across the galaxy, and Ab'ki had reinforced that network considerably. They searched news reports, camera footage, police frequencies. Right now, he had all of them looking for Mandalorians outside of the Sector, particularly ones matching the descriptions of ShadowFett and Mirdala Ad'Goran. One of them made its way in. Something innocuous -- a report to the police that a Mandalorian in black armor had entered a grocery store in Coronet City. The cops had sent someone by to make sure nothing happened, but there was no incident, so the report was filed away and forgotten. Judyc set his course for Corellia. He was back on the hunt.

What in haran is that? Judyc thought, eying the monster in the doorway. He didn't acknowledge Exodus' request pass his invitation to ShadowFett like some messenger boy. It seemed to him that the dar'jetii was betting against him. And there was no doubt that Fett had become a very challenging target. But Judyc was careful and he knew how to win a fight. He would need to lure Fett into a position where he was disadvantaged, in some asymmetrical battlefield or trap. Let them all think what they want, Judyc thought dismissively as he edged past whatever creature was standing in the shadows on his way out. This whole trip has been a kriffing waste of time. Soon he made his way back to his ship, the Gra'tua, and headed for deep space. He had contacts to check in with, trace programs running, and a whole lot of work ahead of him if he was going to get wind of Mirdala Ad'Goran.

Judyc watched the exchange silently, nodding at the other Mandalorian who walked in. He recognized her -- Trammell was something of a weapons expert, and was an experienced Journeyman Protector on Concord Dawn. He had to admit he hadn't known she was one of the ones Ab'ki had bought, but she was certainly an asset. He was equally curious about the role she would be playing in the coming plans as he was about Lord Exodus' purpose for being here. But for now he continued to stand silent, arms crossed, eyes appraising.

Judyc scowled at the dar'jetii, who on closer inspection appeared younger than he'd expected for a man with Exodus' reputation. It seemed that whatever mastery of the dark side of the Force that he had did not grant him any uncanny insight into the situation. He presumed to know better than Judyc what it would take to bring down Mand'alor, and sought to intimidate him by forcing a vision into his brain with what amounted to a parlor trick. But Judyc had already been working as a beroya for years when Exodus was crawling feebly from his mother's womb. He'd seen the dark side long before this man knew what it was. And he knew how to kill a Mandalorian, especially this one. "Spare me your sorcery," he said dryly. "It's bad business to kill an employer, and there are such things as opportunity costs."

His face remained a mask of professionalism when Ab'ki demanded ShadowFett also be brought to her alive to be tortured and killed because of his involvement with Mirdala Ad'Goran. He considered objecting verbally -- Ab'ki did not know what she was asking of Judyc. He decided to take another angle. "ShadowFett is Mand'alor, the sole ruler of the Mandalorian people, as well as being a CoreSec officer," he said. "My fee will be substantial, and even then it may not be possible to take him alive." When the other being entered, Judyc eyed him carefully, uncrossing his arms and letting his hand float near his weapons. Unlike Fieyr, he did tend to keep an eye on the galactic scene, and he knew who this dar'jetii was by reputation. He was a very dangerous man, so dangerous that even Judyc would have to think twice before collecting the million-credit bounty on his head, and if he were to make an attempt, he would have to prepare carefully. No, the better response for now was to see what he wanted and try to keep it from becoming a confrontation. He bowed his head respectfully. "Lord Exodus," he said.

Judyc crossed his arms, looking down at the Twi'lek. "What's this about, Ab'ki?" he asked. "I'm sure you already know that Mirdala Ad'Goran survived her encounter with Fieyr here. And you certainly already know that Jurgen Bialle died after allowing himself to be tracked to my safehouse by the Journeyman Protectors. No doubt you also know that Ad'Goran has made herself scarce since you showed your hand on Concord Dawn." It was Ab'ki's business to know these things. She'd been looking for the empathic runt for more than a decade already. Judyc was both fascinated and horrified and the dar'jetii's single-minded devotion to finding the girl for whatever cruel purposes she had in mind, but he didn't really give an osik about any of it as long as the credits didn't dry up.