"We don't have to like each other, but damn it, don't mess with each other's stuff! That's how people end up getting blasted!"

Dengar leaned back in his seat and shouted at the others. He could not see his teammates, but he knew Raptor and Mogo were in the rec room, but since they clearly were not listening, he shook his head and turned back to face the front of the cockpit. He checked their heading, saw that the Lamelar was in fine working order, then turned back once again.

"Mogo, you watch out for Raptor!" Dengar shouted. "The other new guy thought it would be cute to start going through everybody's gear."

"I wouldn't do that," said Mogo, calling out from the rec room.

"Yeah, well, the other new guy did, and Raptor shot him in the kneecaps. We had to fly all the way to Nar Shaddaa with that poor sap screaming the whole way!"

"Kneecapped him, huh?" said Mogo. "I would've shot him in the kneecaps and the elbows."

Dengar turned away. He was an older bounty hunter, and had seen a lot of new guys come and go. They were always the toughest guy on the block, but they never listened. They never needed advice from anyone, especially not from an experienced, successful bounty hunter like himself. Dengar's head wrapping suddenly felt tight around his neck; he pulled it loose, shaking his head in frustration as he hoped the new guy - supposedly a Mandalorian - did not find a new way to get himself killed, or get one of his other six teammates killed while they were on the job. Dengar did not mind working with Viddu the Hutt's elite bounty hunters, but he had noticed a pattern of new guys getting themselves killed for no good reason.

Mogo stood in the Lamelar's common area, where the bounty hunters often ate or played games to pass the time. He wore an impressive set of red and black Mandalorian armor, complete with a jetpack. His gaze was fixed on Raptor, a large bounty hunter currently examining a rifle while reclining on a sofa. Mogo could not figure out what sort of aesthetic Raptor was going for; he wore a Kaleesh bone mask beneath an old Corellian soldier's helmet, bright blue Cheka special forces shin guards, a yellowed Imperial stormtrooper's breastplate, Mandalorian shoulder pads, a thick mantle of white fur covered his neck, and he had some kind of slick black wrist guards that Mogo could not identify. While he had to admit the wrist guards were cool, he was annoyed by Raptor's motley getup.

"Raptor," said Mogo, "what kind of look are you going for? You're not going to be a legendary bounty hunter if you don't get your image correct."

Without bothering to look at Mogo, Raptor responded, "Maybe I prefer not being noticed."

"Seriously? That's a bad attitude. Really bad." Mogo shook his head. "You probably think it's vanity on my part, but if you want to get noticed, and get high-paying contracts, you need to stand out. That's not vanity, it's marketing."

"Marketing? I've been with the Hounds longer than you," said Raptor, his voice echoing within his mask. "Stick with the Hounds, and credits will be the last thing you'll ever worry about."

Mogo turned as if about to walk away, then immediately turned back to Raptor. "It's not about money, though, it's more than that. It's about, like... honor, and reputation. You know anything about honor?"

"Among bounty hunters? No. I don't."

Mogo shook his head. "Well, it's a big deal among us Mandalorians. Like, a really big deal. Okay?" He stood in silence for a moment. As if regretting giving his new teammate a hard time, he added, "So... you don't take your mask off, either? As a Mandalorian, I can respect that."

"I take my mask off all the time."

"You do?"

"Yes."

Mogo cocked his head to the side. "So... will you take it off now?"

"Not when I'm working, no." Raptor suddenly threw back the exhaust catch on his rifle, popped out the magnetic induction unit, then slapped a new inductor into place with a loud klack-chak! Fearing that he was about to be shot, Mogo jerked in alarm only for Raptor to go back to examining his rifle. Mogo leaned against the doorway with feigned casualness, desperately hoping Raptor had not noticed his fright. "As soon as a job's over," said Raptor, "I walk away, and the mask comes off. Nobody knows who I am, so nobody comes looking for me. My face becomes a mask."

"I guess that makes sense," said Mogo. "But it's better if you never take it off, it creates an air of mystery around you. People will want to know who you really are. But you never tell them."

Raptor suddenly rose from the sofa, hefting the heavy rifle over his shoulder.

"Do you want to know why we Mandalorians have sworn an oath to never remove our helmets?" said Mogo.

"No," Raptor said as he brushed past him.

Raptor made his way down the hallway, which was lit by a dim, reddish light that was supposed to represent the sleeping period of the planet they were approaching. Despite the fact that several Hounds were trying to adjust to their destination's schedule, Raptor stopped at a door and banged on it with enough force to send it rattling.

"Yeah!" said a female voice.

Raptor hit the switch and the door slid open, revealing a green-skinned Mirialan female with purple eyes and a scowl that only enhanced her already-prominent facial scarring. She knelt before a hologram of a Mandalorian in battered armor.

"Hey there, Beautiful," said Raptor. "Rifle's fixed."

"Just set it by the-" she started to say, then caught the rifle as Raptor tossed it toward her. "And the name's Agatha, if you don't mind. Agatha Prima. How long have we been working together?"

Raptor leaned against the door frame and settled his gaze on Agatha's holographic icon. "Has the new guy seen what you've got going on in here? This would really put you on his good side."

"Like I care about him!" Agatha spat. Raptor was fascinated by the way her scars twisted, turning her botched facial tattoos into an ugly reminder of her criminal lifestyle. She had forged her Mirialan tattoos in order to claim unearned achievement, and was now forced to permanently wear her mark of dishonor for all to see.

"Really?" said Raptor. "Zuckuss told me the new guy's a real hot shot. He could probably put your dead boyfriend to shame."

"Boba Fett is not dead," Agatha hissed through clenched teeth.

"Isn't he? He didn't get chewed up in some backwater?"

Agatha inhaled as she tried to control her anger. Turning to her icon, she said, "Chewed up? Yes. Dead? Not on your life. Boba Fett climbed out of the belly of the Sarlac god of death. His body was disfigured, but his face was... absolutely and perfectly protected by his helmet. And one day, Raptor, you fool, Boba Fett will reveal himself, and lead us into a new age of-"

Raptor laughed in an oddly high-pitched wheeze. "Back when I got into bounty hunting, everyone was all about making money. I never would have thought any of you guys would go in for some crazy religious mumbo-jumbo." As if suddenly remembering that Agatha still held a rifle, he raised his hands dramatically and backed away, adding, "But whatever helps you deal with life's disappointments, Pretty Lady!"

"You-"

Agatha was cut off by a squawking noise from the hallway. Turning, Raptor was surprised to see the restroom door open, with Mogo forcing his helmet back on as 4-LOM stood looking in on him from the hallway.

"Don't you ever knock?!" Mogo screamed. "You stupid droid!"

"I don't believe it!" said Raptor. "Mogo had his helmet off!"

"I did not!" Mogo shrieked.

4-LOM, a slight protocol droid with black outer covering flecked with bits of rust, turned its oddly insectoid head back and forth between the two. Even as Raptor messed with Mogo, he knew better than to make light of 4-LOM, for the droid's corrupted programming made it perfectly capable of murder.

"Forgive me, young Mandalorian," said 4-LOM, "but I assumed no one would be in this restroom."

"Why would you assume such a thing?!" said Mogo, finally setting his helmet in place. He squared up his shoulders as if ready for a confrontation.

"Because the venerable Beefhead has just admitted to destroying the hallway toilet. I thought it would be better for team morale if I administered repairs."

"It works fine!" Mogo countered. "The Wookiee was using a figure of speech, you brain-dead rust heap."

"My logic circuits are functioning quite well," 4-LOM said with ice in his voice.

"What's going on out here?" Agatha said, peering around Raptor's arm.

"4-LOM's about to kill the kid," said Raptor.

"Oh, wow..." Agatha's mouth fell open. "You're right. Look at 4-LOM's head! It's twitching!"

"Will you kids knock it off!" Dengar shouted from the cockpit. "Some of us are trying to sleep around here!"

"Hear that, New Guy?" said Raptor. He smacked the button to the restroom door, sliding it shut on Mogo. "Bedtime for you."

* * *

Early the next day, Dengar relieved 4-LOM from the pilot's seat and opened a channel to one of the crew compartments.

"Beefhead, you in there?" said Dengar. "Beefhead, buddy. Wake up!"

In a moment, he heard the tinny bleat of a groggy Wookiee.

"Time to get up, big guy," said Dengar. "Boss Man wants us all assembled in the rec room. Go and get him, will you?"

Beefhead growled in the affirmative. Dengar rose and leaned against the archway between the cockpit and the hallway, so that he could be in the meeting but also keep an eye on the Lamelar's console readout. 4-LOM appeared first, then Raptor came and sat down heavily on a wide bench. Mogo the Mandalorian strode in, already dressed in full battle kit with multiple sidearms holstered and a rifle hanging from his shoulder, and he stood in the middle of the entryway hatch as if preparing for immediate launch into a warzone. Agatha Prima arrived looking haggard in her bathrobe, with her hair still dented by her pillow. She flashed Raptor an annoyed grimace, then gave Mogo a look of disgust before finally moving to sit beside 4-LOM, looking vaguely disappointed as she put distance between them.

Finally a doorway at the end of the hallway opened, and they heard quiet conversation as their leader approached. Even Agatha unconsciously straightened her shoulders out of respect, but the five bounty hunters had to wait quite a while for their aged leader to arrive.

Beefhead appeared first. The massive Wookiee had to stoop as he entered the rec room, his pale white fur looking just as pink as his eyes in the ship's "early dawn" lighting. The albino Wookiee was naked save for a ceremonial blade hanging in a sheath at his side. But all eyes in the room were fixed on the small alien who leaned on his arm for support: their leader, Zuckuss. The captain of Viddu's Hounds was an insectoid Gand in a thickly padded suit filled with ammonia. He had short, stubby arms, and stubby fingers on each hand, one of which clung to Beefhead's massive forearm. The Wookiee stood stooped over so that Zuckuss could lean on him for support.

"Thank you for meeting with me at this early hour," said Zuckuss, his breath hissing through his respirator. "I know you are all eager for action. I heard a lot of shouting and carrying on last night. I'm sure you were all giving our newest member a bit of a hazing. Did you sleep well, Mogo?"

"I'm quite rested, sir," said Mogo. "Just ready to hit the ground running."

"Good. Good." Zuckuss looked around, almost seeming as if he had forgotten the purpose of their meeting. Finally he continued. "We will arrive at Naboo shortly. Naboo is well within New Republic territory, so that means humans can't be armed - not without a lot of paperwork, at least. So, Dengar, you stay with the ship, and keep her running. As for you boys, if anybody gives you trouble... Raptor, just speak Wookiee, if you can, and Mogo, you tell them you're as green as Agatha. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," said Mogo. "But don't worry, I won't be taking my helmet off. I never do."

Zuckuss nodded, then continued. "As you've already been told, Empress Organa herself has commissioned this job from our esteemed employer, Viddu the Hutt. The Empress wants us to capture her brother alive. Whether we capture or kill her brother's accomplices has been left to our discretion. Personally, I prefer we capture them all alive."

Zuckuss paused once again. Raptor leaned in, and said, "But it's up to us, sir?"

"No. No, it is not. You have already received a mission briefing before our departure. But now that we are quite far from anyone who might be listening in, I am free to give you our actual mission. The Great Viddu has edited our mission parameters."

Zuckuss paused once again, taking in deep, hissing breaths. Everyone waited patiently while he caught his breath.

"It seems our quarry is hiding with none other than General Solo," Zuckuss continued. "As you may know, General Solo took part in the assassination of Jabba the Hutt. And our quarry is none other than Luke Skywalker, who-"

"What!" Agatha Prima shouted. Though Dengar was annoyed that she would interrupt the Boss Man, he knew that she had good reason to be angry. Though there were few survivors of the notorious massacre on Jabba's pleasure barge, it was well-known that Luke, Han, and their various accomplices had gotten close to Jabba just so they could turn on him and murder him. The tales of Luke Skywalker stabbing Jabba over and over again with his laser sword, cackling with psychotic pleasure, had spread among the bounty hunters of the galaxy. Even the legendary Boba Fett had allegedly been killed as well, and it was a fact that Prima's mentor, Bossk, had also been caught unawares and was killed when the pleasure barge had been blown up.

"You heard correctly, young Mistress Prima," said Zuckuss. "Luke Skywalker has run to Han Solo for protection. As you may know, one of Viddu's wives was a sister to the late Jabba, and many of Jabba's older wives went to Viddu for protection. In some sense, their families are one. Now, while Viddu may have made a contract with the Empress, his duty to his family supersedes any contract made with the New Republic."

As Zuckuss paused for breath, Dengar asked, "What's our new mission, then, sir?"

"It's quite a bit easier than a capture-request," said Zuckuss. "You see, our actual mission is to kill Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, and all of their criminal accomplices. That comes from Viddu himself."

Dengar whistled. "Are we about to find ourselves in the middle of a political incident, sir?"

"I thought the same thing, at first," said Zuckuss. "If we weren't Viddu's best, I'd be afraid he was going to use us to take out an enemy, and then hand us over to the Empress by way of apology. But, no."

"Can we be sure of that?" said Raptor.

"I'm sure you boys have heard talk about the New Republic being... weak, haven't you? They've got all this turf, a big military, taxable worlds one after the other. But what do they do with it? They apologize. They apologize for existing. If any alien comes to the Empress with their hat in their hands, she force feeds them credits and apologizes for things that happened too far back to remember. Well..."

Zuckuss took a long, hissing breath, and the others leaned forward, unwilling to interrupt.

"Well, Viddu wants to test the Empress's mettle. He's already negotiated with her, and he told me she's putty. The way he sees it, there's no reason why the Hutt Cartel can't be the dominant superpower in the galaxy. We have the manpower, and Viddu has the will. And if he can prove he's stronger than the Empress, he'll have every major Hutt clan talking about him. He'll be at the head of every table, and everyone will want to eat out of his hand!"

"So this is about more than just credits," said Raptor.

"That's right, boy. If we pull this off, we'll be the enforcers for the true power ruling the galaxy!"