Star Wars: Darth Hassan

"WHAT?!"—the house shook from the force of the two men's shocked screams.

The Rodian's mind simply couldn't picture this bitch being in a relationship with anyone. All she ever did was yell and threaten everyone with imminent violence! He'd sooner believe that Cheesecake just slept with that mercenary than imagine them as some lovey-dovey couple. And the thought of them being all mushy made his stomach churn—it made him feel sick. If they really were together, then a woman like her would only acknowledge a man stronger than herself, meaning that mercenary could be a dangerous individual.

"I mean... Ahem..."—Olg quickly corrected himself, feeling the sharp female gaze on his throat. "Of course. Yes. That's your ex,"—the informant tried to appear calm, but it came off as extremely awkward. "And I'm not at all surprised that such an undoubtedly strong and independent wom... girl had a boyfriend once..."—he finished uncertainly. "E-he-he..."

"Next time, be more useful to us,"—she said arrogantly, dismissively waving her hand at the chatterbox.

"I think we're done here,"—Olg's ears couldn't help but pick up the suddenly softened tone of the fury.

"Yeah..."—and oddly enough, she was addressing her partner.

There are many girls in the Galaxy of various shapes, sizes, and even species, but they are all united by common archetypes. For example, Cheesecake is a perfect representative of the so-called "hysterics," who are always ready to yell at anyone for even the tiniest mistake. And considering that Cheesecake has a blaster—she's not someone you'd want to argue with, let alone contradict. However, for some reason, she treats her partner not just well, but with a certain level of respect, which is rare for hysterics.

The uninvited guests headed for the exit when Olg suddenly spoke up... even surprising himself:

"Raf! Can I have a second?"—now he was in shock that he had actually stopped the mercenary.

Both bounty hunters stopped and looked at him in confusion. While Raf's gaze didn't bother him, the attention of the girl, on the other hand, made the cowardly Rodian extremely uncomfortable. An awkward silence hung in the air, with exactly three actors on stage: a vicious fury with sadistic tendencies, a simple and kind guy who was pleasant to chat with, and the stunning, handsome, and insightful Olg with questionable connections all over Tatooine! As for Rune, his loyal companion, he had decided to completely turn into a rag and not participate in the conversation. Perhaps the buff actor was waiting for his scene in the plot, where the vicious fury, who had once threatened his precious parts in the past, would disappear behind the curtain.

"I'll be outside,"—the girl said in an ambiguous tone, leaving the boys for what appeared to be a purely male conversation.

"Huh?"—Rafael seemed completely lost. "Yeah, sure..."

The hysteric disappeared behind the door. The tough-looking bruiser, capable of scaring the hell out of an unprepared viewer, exhaled in relief and spread his legs in a manly way. Oh yes, it seemed he too had caught the scent of a boys' night or sausage party in the air! Olg couldn't help but support his partner and friend... in the matter of a relieved sigh. Along with the girl, the tense atmosphere that could explode at any moment had left his house.

"So, what did you want?"

"Listen, I know I'm sticking my nose where it doesn't belong,"—he began surprisingly diplomatically. "But, honestly, this whole... Um..."—the informant fidgeted, trying to find the right word. "Situation is starting to smell fishy, if you know what I mean."

"Well... Uh..."—of course, Rafael had no idea what he was talking about.

"Mercenaries are a delicate bunch,"—Olg didn't think the guy had caught on.

Thanks to his considerable experience living on Tatooine, where every second passerby is a slaver, the third is a slave, and the fourth is a mercenary, the Rodian knows how to behave in a dangerous criminal society. The ships of many businessmen and bloodthirsty bounty hunters ran on his fuel, which is why the owner of the fueling station had to deal with them and chat a lot on various topics. Before his eyes, some of them, unknowingly, planned betrayal, carefully polishing the dagger that would soon end up in the leader's back. Maybe Olg is a coward, but he's still alive, and that says a lot!

"They're always driven by the thirst for profit. If you want to find common ground with them, be ready to put a box of credits on the negotiating table,"—it seemed like the wise old man was sharing advice with a still very young boy. "There's nothing wrong with that. Mercenaries often risk their lives, so the reward should be appropriate."

"Right, you and your partner risked your skins during the raid on the pirate base, remember?"—waiting for an affirmative nod, the chatty guy continued. "No one would agree to that adventure for free,"—Olg chuckled. "But it's not just money that drives them. Many of your kind value their reputation. Reputation on Tatooine or the lower levels of Coruscant is like a second layer of armor under your chestplate. If everyone knows you and respects you, then the more reckless types will think twice before messing with your job. Or contacts will be much more willing to offer you some work. What am I getting at?"

Sev'rance outside was nervously and impatiently tapping her foot, watching the situation outside. The shady strangers passing by were glancing at the girl with tension, and the killers hiding in the dark alley didn't dare come out, sensing trouble. She perfectly remembered that Olg loved to chat, but Tann couldn't imagine that their conversation would drag on so long! Rune, sitting behind the chatterbox, who was already used to his friend's rambling, had completely turned into a vegetable, somehow completely turning off his brain. And only Rafael continued to listen to the informant's words... for which the latter was somewhat grateful.

"To the fact that mercenary work is a purely business environment. Corporate,"—remembering a better example, Olg happily said it. "Ethics are wiped here, and the weak and spineless are eaten for breakfast. When love gets involved, everything becomes even more complicated. And I'm talking about real love here,"—the chatterbox made an important clarification. "Don't confuse love and sex. We all fuck to relieve stress, let's be honest,"—Olg spread his arms, showing his openness on the matter. "When we got our share from selling the pirates' junk, the first thing we did was go to the brothel, right Rune?"—the big guy on the crates nodded contentedly. "Exactly!"—the Rodian returned his gaze to Raf. "Honestly, that Cheesecake of yours is quite the bitch,"—the speaker pursed his lips sourly. "But she's got a good figure, and her voice is pleasant even under the helmet when she's not yelling, and without the helmet, she's probably even more beautiful. If she has an ex, then she's got the looks too, right?"

"Well, yeah, she's a beauty,"—the mercenary replied sheepishly.

"So she's a flirt too!"—he declared confidently. "They twist us men around like toys. When we stop being useful to them, they just throw us out! From what I've seen today and a few weeks ago, you've already worked together, and Cheesecake treats you with respect and kindness. You don't get that from hysterical flirts, so I can confidently say that she likes you,"—the fish-like face instantly turned into the ancient visage of an elder.

"What? Olg, you've got something mixed up..."

"I know you're in shock right now, but listen to me and my experience,"—for clarity, the chatterbox tapped his chest. "I don't want to brag, but I'm actually a love guru! I understand girls and their psychology well, believe me! And I see that she likes you! You're not just a toy to relieve stress at night, she sees you as a life partner! And now her ex shows up! Maybe your partner seemed calm on the surface, but her heart was trembling with excitement! I've seen her ex, I've talked to him, and I can tell you that he's a seasoned mercenary..."—on a somewhat somber note, Olg decided to pause.

"And you... Raf, no offense, you're kind of too soft for a mercenary. I'm actually surprised that bitch got involved with you. Flirts usually cozy up to experienced shooters, which you're not. No offense,"—the mercenary shook his head.

"So it turns out that she just likes you. You know, right now you're her partner, but deep down she sees you as a soulmate, if you understand..."

Olg panicked and shut up when someone knocked demandingly on the steel door. The tense silence hung in the shack again.

Rune hastily covered his dignity with his legs, Olg and Raf looked at the door in shock. Oh yes, they both knew who those angry and nervous knocks belonged to—one insufferable fury was tired of waiting for their conversation to end. The Rodian sighed anxiously, his big bulging fish eyes stinging with phantom pain.

"It's not polite to keep a lady waiting, ha-ha..."—he laughed in frustration, having gotten too carried away with his speech.

"I'll just say one last thing—your relationship will now be tested by her ex. Don't lose your girl, Raf. Go on, get out of here,"—the chatterbox waved his hand, "I don't want to piss off Cheesecake any more."

"Thanks for the advice, Olg, I really appreciate your input,"—the mercenary replied humbly.

"That's why I like you, Raf,"—Olg slapped his knee. "I myself... Oh..."—he sighed heavily. "Let's save this topic for later. Good luck."

"To you too. I hope you move to a decent place soon,"—Rafael approached the door.

"Don't remind me!"—the bug-eyed guy called after him as the simple-minded shooter disappeared outside. "I hope this life doesn't eat you up,"—he finished more quietly.

Sev'rance stared questioningly at the teacher, who silently left the informant's house. The irritation that had built up in her chest was ready to burst out. Her hand itched to pull out the blaster and shoot the lurking robbers, but her cool mind stoically held back the bloodthirsty impulses... Especially now that the mentor had finally returned. The guy wordlessly headed down the street. The student hurriedly followed him, then caught up, not daring to speak first. For some reason, she thought Raf would speak up as soon as he left the house, but in reality, he walked in silence.

The moon softly covered the city with its light. Its glow felt more tender than the scorching rays of the two morning suns. In the silver light, the girl saw cracks on the lenses of her partner's helmet, which too clearly resembled those of a mirrored mask. Her heart, full of irritation, seemed to stop, begging for forgiveness for the stupid, base desires, her blue crunchy French buns tensed, and she quickly looked away, trying not to bother Hassan any further. Surely, Olg had already managed to drive him crazy with his empty chatter. That she was now accompanying a Sith Lord, the girl had no doubt. Her judgments could be called the result of several near-deaths and female intuition along with the basic instinct of survival.

"What is your ex doing here?"

"I don't know, master,"—all her insides clenched in fear. "Perhaps he's working with Sha'a Do. Find him, and we'll find her."

"You speak as if you know where to find him,"—the mentor's tone changed. Now he was definitely in the role of a Sith Lord.

"I know his way of thinking and habits. Within the day, I'll be able to track him down, master,"—Tann said confidently.

"Good."

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The cities of Tatooine are nothing compared to the Cradle of the Republic. Where all the buildings resembled tall, tasteless spires, here every house seemed like a part of the desert land. Even in the center, all the high-rise buildings, far inferior in size to the skyscrapers of Coruscant, adhered to a special sandy style so as not to stand out from the general mood and familiar customs. Tatooine really does resemble the homeland of the Olympian—India.

"Are you sure it's him?"—Rafael watched the mercenary walking in the crowd.

"Absolutely. It's definitely Vandalo,"—the girl looked down from the roof of the tallest building in the city.

"Well, he's got a pretentious name,"—the partner handed her the binoculars. "But how did you figure out where to look for him?"

"When we first left our home system,"—Sev'rance took the binoculars and began tracking her ex herself. "We settled here for a while, renting a house. Then we met Dooku."

Everything was as she said. The streets she had roamed with Vandalo were etched in her mind, so finding the Chiss was a piece of cake. All she had to do was find out about the rented housing in the upper district, then take the highest point and start observing. Soon her tactics, or rather her ex-partner's habits, bore fruit. She was also very lucky to meet him yesterday near Olg's house, because only thanks to a strange twist of fate did she see her ex's new armor, allowing her to spot the target in the crowd on the street this morning.

"I see. Can you see Sha'a?"

"No, she's not visible yet,"—Vandalo disappeared into the rented house before her eyes. "But now we've found their hideout. She might be there right now,"—the girl lowered the binoculars from her helmet.

"Are you sure they're on the same team?"

"Sorry? I don't understand,"—Tann said in confusion, not understanding such a simple question.

"Maybe he came here for other reasons?"—Rafael said uncertainly.

"Two of Dooku's lackeys are on the same planet. We already know that Vandalo was looking for a Dark Lord of the Sith, and because of Darth Hassan, Sha'a can't resume negotiations,"—Cheesecake rattled off the facts under her breath. "I don't see any other reasons here."

"Damn, I can't even argue with you,"—Rafael covered his helmet with his hand. "But if you look at it from another angle, your ex could have come here... I don't know..."—the partner hesitated like a girl. "For you, for example... Ahem... Yeah..."

"Why would he come here for me?"—honestly, Sev'rance was completely confused by the strange dialogue. "Presumably, I'm dead... Wait,"—it seemed the Chiss was starting to understand where Raf was going, "are you hinting at our relationship?"

"Well, yeah,"—now the guy felt ashamed, "maybe he came here for my head."

"No... No..."—the interlocutor shook her head. "Vandalo isn't stupid. If he found out that I 'died' at the hands of a Sith Lord, he should understand his chances of revenge. And his chances are zero."

"Killing a Jedi is a difficult task from the perspective of an ordinary mercenary. First of all, the rank of the Jedi must be taken into account. So, putting a hole in the head of a Jedi Knight is much easier than a Master, and shooting a Padawan with proper preparation and a plan is a piece of cake. Masters, however, are a deadly threat that's better not to mess with. Sith Lords are considered equal to Masters in terms of power, but experienced bounty hunters know that the former are much more powerful than their counterparts on the Light Side of the Force. Killing a Sith Lord is like signing your own and your team's death warrant."

"Well, yeah... Really..."—Sev'rance's arguments didn't fully convince him. "What do we do now?"

"We'll start the assault at night. Until then, we'll keep an eye on their hideout."

The whole situation now resembled one big exam. The teacher's last question especially pointed to this. It was as if he continued to observe her actions and tactics to understand what the student was capable of. And the student was ready to demonstrate all her skills to get the highest grade. She had already passed the exam with Olg's debt, now she just had to deal with Sha'a and Vandalo.

"Logical... Hey, how did you two even meet?"—Raf lay down on the heated flat roof.

"On one of the missions. I used to serve in the Chiss Defense Fleet."

"So that's where your training comes from!"—the guy involuntarily raised his voice. "You're a former military! And here I thought Dooku made you reread The Art of War."

"The Count taught me how to fence and use the Force. Shooting, piloting, mechanics, tactics, and strategy were taught to me at the academy,"—the Chiss patiently answered all the teacher's questions. If it were anyone else, she would have preferred to answer with a shot to the forehead. "But military service bored me. I faked my death with Vandalo and Thrawn's help and went freelance. That's how I met him, and Thrawn helped us get out of the Imperial System,"—the girl briefly recounted part of her life without unnecessary details.

"What were you trying to achieve? I mean, you faked your death to... What?"

"To start over, I guess,"—Sev'rance sighed, not liking such delicate questions. "I was the best in the academy, almost on par with Thrawn, but then I realized that a military career is finite. I wanted to achieve something greater, I felt that I was made for something greater..."—Tann finished sadly. "Count Dooku showed me that my intuition didn't fail me..."—the Chiss sighed bitterly. "Sorry, it's hard for me to talk about all this,"—she sat on the edge of the building. "I want to focus on more important things."

It's not just hard, it's unfamiliar. No one had ever pried into her soul. Not Vandalo, and certainly not Dooku. With Vandalo, she just had fun, and the Count became her mentor—that's all she needed. But now Darth Hassan had started asking personal questions that she didn't want to answer, not just to him, but... to herself. She was used to ignoring the past, striving entirely for the future. But now Sev'rance felt the weight of chains on her body, tied to an unbearable burden.

"Sev'rance, relax,"—Rafael sat down next to her and dangled his legs, "I just want to say that my student's mood is much more important to me personally than some war or Dooku's schemes,"—he patted her on the back encouragingly. "Let's save this conversation for later then."

"Yes... Yes. Thank you,"—the girl didn't know what she was thanking him for. For postponing the conversation or for his involvement?

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Express,"—the girl didn't take her eyes off her ex's house.

"Express... I'm on 'S,' hmm..."—Raf thoughtfully drawled, looking at the moon above. "Darth Sidious."

"Who?"—the title "Darth" caught her attention. "Who is that?"—she even lowered the binoculars and looked at her partner.

"Ah... Um... Well, it's... Operation start!"—the guy suddenly straightened up, almost knocking his student off the roof.

"As you say,"—she was no stranger to ignoring Rafael's childish behavior.

"Oh Force, we've finally finished playing this stupid game!"—apparently, the word game had tired her out much more than Dooku's harsh training.