Star Wars: Darth Hassan

"Do you think it's true?"—the Duros asked nervously, wiping the smudged lenses of his combat helmet.

His two companions weren't in a hurry to answer. They were intently checking their equipment, including their weapons, right at the dining table where they usually ate. Though now, instead of local food, the table was covered with various blasters and other weapons. The more fastidious residents of the universe would consider them rude, and to some extent, they'd be right, but the truth, as always, lies somewhere in between. Mercenaries living on the edge of a knife are unlikely to bother with such trivial matters. Eating is, of course, an important part of the day, but combat gear is what most often saves a bounty hunter's life.

The human girl was checking the scope of her carbine. During the last skirmish on a mission, her shots kept veering slightly to the left. She had completely disassembled the barrel, cleaned the muzzle to solve the life-threatening issue, but now she was seriously considering that the scope itself might be the problem. Her fingers gripped the scope and pulled it off with some effort. The mounts creaked slightly, but the scope came off intact.

The third member of the team was counting grenades. Not just counting—carefully counting, afraid to trigger the detonator, which wouldn't just blow up everyone present but also destroy their entire ship. Support gear is also crucial. Grenades are great for cover and flushing out entrenched enemies, and the sound of the explosion and the flying debris provide the thrower with incomparable satisfaction. Only with grenades on his belt does he feel safe, and only with grenades in his hands does he feel capable of turning the tide of any battle.

"Rumors don't just appear out of nowhere,"—the Weequay said, slotting grenades into his combat belt.

"Even if it's not true,"—the girl spoke up, "we'll only waste a bit of fuel."

"And if it is true?"—the second question sounded more tense than the first.

The partners paused their tasks and gave the Duros a mixed look. They wanted to laugh at him, point out his cowardice and lack of confidence, but they couldn't… Because they were also nervous about the mission. However, the current outing could hardly be called a mission, as they were acting on their own to investigate some very strange rumors. What could possibly scare a team of mercenaries who had literally been through fire and water? They'd been outnumbered by enemies countless times. They'd constantly faced enemies with numerical superiority. Their ship had been shot down several times. And every single time, they'd managed to escape by some miracle. So why were these hardened mercenaries suddenly afraid?

"A Sith Lord, of course."

"If it's true, we'll improvise,"—the girl reattached the scope. "Like always."

"Exactly!"—the demolitions expert exclaimed with pompous overconfidence. "I'll blow him up with my little ones,"—he patted his belt dramatically, "and send him straight to his mommy! Ha!"

"Heh, yeah…"—the girl supported her friend's bravado.

Even the Duros perked up a bit. However, a moment later, their faces were once again covered with a veil of tension. Everyone had heard of the Jedi. Warriors of good, armed with lightsabers. You'd think shooters would have the upper hand against a simple lightsaber, effective only at close range. In reality, Jedi weapons can deflect blaster shots! Masters don't hesitate to kill the shooter with their own projectile! Honestly, the very idea that someone could deflect a blaster shot is mind-blowing, and supernatural abilities like Force pushes and lifting objects from a distance are outright cheating!

But Jedi themselves are a harmless caste. If you don't provoke them, they won't draw their sabers. In combat, they also rarely rely on the Force, relying entirely on their lightsabers… unless you consider that they're much faster than the average trained bounty hunter. The same can't be said for the opposite side of good. Mercenaries know little about the Jedi's counterparts, the Sith, except that they also wield magical powers and, unlike the knights of light, aren't afraid to use them to their fullest. You could say the Sith are like Jedi, but without rules. At least, that's how the trio on the ship sees it.

There's a lot known about Jedi. Information about them can be found on the HoloNet, and their base is right in the heart of the Republic. But the Sith… You can find articles about them written by journalists, historians, and maybe even fans, but at the same time, they don't exist. At least, they didn't until recently. The Sith are something else, something more frightening than Jedi, because no one has encountered them yet. And now, adventurers driven not only by a thirst for adventure but also for profit are heading straight toward danger. Straight toward a Sith.

"Why are you all so scared?"—the demolitions expert chuckled. "Sith are just like Jedi. They have the same tricks, the same sabers, so they die just as easily."

"Maybe you're right…"—the girl said hesitantly, sitting down at the table.

"We don't have to fight the Sith. We just need to confirm his existence, take a few pictures, and sell it all to the Hutt."

"That's why we're going, genius, but I still admit I don't want to fight Jedi or Sith. I've got steel balls, sure, but I want to live more,"—the Weequay expressed the general sentiment.

"Alright, there's no point in discussing this now,"—the girl shook her head, "we need to check the captain's and Kilum's gear."

Before she could reach for the leader's gear, a hatch suddenly fell onto the table, right on top of the weapons. The confused mercenaries first looked at the hatch, then raised their heads to the ventilation shaft from which the cover had fallen. The ship was old, sure—it had crashed several times and generally looked much better and more presentable in the past—but for their bird to fall apart like this in front of everyone was strange. One thing if the engine failed or the valves blew, but the ventilation…

Suddenly, a slim, wiry figure jumped out of the darkness, landing softly and silently right on the table, neatly placing her feet on the free spots. The bounty hunters' eyes widened. Their brains frantically processed the image of a blue-skinned Twi'lek in tight dark clothing who had appeared out of nowhere. She had caught them completely off guard, so before they could reach for their weapons, the main hall was illuminated by a red light.

The air was split by the crimson arc of a lightsaber, accompanied by the characteristic *vzzz* sound. The scarlet laser blade effortlessly passed through the necks of the stunned mercenaries, whose heads rolled to the floor a moment later. The muscles of the decapitated girl's mouth silently mouthed "careful!" as her human eyes rolled back. Not a drop of blood spilled from the heads or headless bodies, which fell in sync onto the cold metal floor—the lightsaber had instantly cauterized the fatal wounds.

The Sith deactivated her blade and jumped off the table. She landed lightly on her feet, not disturbing the eternal sleep of the inattentive bounty hunters, and then headed to the pilot's cabin. The dark cloak, transitioning into a cape, didn't protect its wearer from blaster shots or explosions, but it looked pompous and majestic. The Twi'lek felt like an apex predator, and the corpses of the mercenaries were proof of that. However, the girl wasn't a fool. Besides her, there were at least two other apex predators in the universe, one of whom was her teacher. She was currently hunting the other.

Approaching the pilot's cabin, the Sith hid, concealing herself by the doorway. The pilots hadn't bothered to close the doors, completely unaware of the stealthy infiltrator.

"Did they forget to check our guns?"—the voice of the co-pilot could be heard.

"Relax, Kilum, we're going on a recon mission, not a battle,"—the leader of the group replied calmly.

"Yeah, yeah, you're right, but you understand that if we're spotted, we're probably screwed."

"That's exactly why you're not coming."

"What?!"—the co-pilot nearly shouted loud enough for the whole ship to hear. "You want to leave me here to sit it out?! Are you serious?!"

"Keep it down, Kilum, I'm sitting right across from you,"—the captain responded calmly to the subordinate's outburst. "If there really is an evil Jedi or Sith down there and they spot us, you'll need to cover us from the air, got it?"—the corners of the Twi'lek's lips twitched upward. The plan wasn't bad. A Force user would have a hard time surviving under aerial fire, so it was a decent way to kill the enemy. If she had a partner, she might have done the same.

"Got it, Captain, got it,"—the co-pilot replied, sounding far too glum.

"Don't freak out,"—the captain remained calm, "we can sell this information to either the Hutt or the Republic. At best, we won't even have to shoot. Easy money."

The money was indeed easy. The tight-knit mercenaries intended to capture and thereby confirm the existence of the so-called Sith Lord. Was this individual another true Sith Lord? More likely yes than no. Any Jedi who strayed from the light could foolishly call themselves a Sith and bestow upon themselves the title of Darth. Would that make them a true Dark Lord? Of course not. On the other hand, Count Dooku, when briefing his apprentice on the mission, had seemed tense and concerned. Darth Hassan had indeed managed not only to attract his attention but also to scare him a little. It was better to consider Hassan a trained Sith rather than a rogue Jedi, because any mistake would lead to death. She certainly wouldn't end up like the arrogant Sev'rance Tann.

Deeming their dialogue a waste of time, the girl quietly entered the cabin and approached the unsuspecting pilots. Instantly, the walls were bathed in red light, and the shadows cowered in the farthest corners. Lightsabers always activate with that incomparable *vzzz* sound. Catching a glimpse of the red hue and hearing something amiss behind them, the mercenaries turned around. The Twi'lek immediately delivered a swift, sweeping strike with her saber, something ordinary thugs could never avoid. It was a clean cut, taking their lives without unnecessary suffering.

The girl deactivated her saber and hung it on her belt, then casually grabbed the captain's shoulders and tossed him into the corridor, freeing up space for herself. Now she was in control of her new ship, with its dead passengers aboard. Little was known about Hassan. Dooku had been stingy with information, not out of greed or senility, but out of simple ignorance. Even on Tatooine, most informants had no idea about the Jedi Master's ransom, let alone Darth Hassan. That's why her initial goal after the failed negotiations with Jabba was to find scraps of information about the unknown Sith Lord.

This time, she wouldn't fail. She couldn't afford to fail. Otherwise, she'd face severe punishment. Such is the life of a follower of the Dark Side of the Force, which does not tolerate failure from its disciples.