| abstract | - Throughout my career, there have been several peculiar jobs which project themselves in my memory core. This one took place six hundred forty-eight years ago and was my last before I briefly retired and became a scout. It started out with a certain politician of the old Galactic Republic named Elderous Valorum who decided to have a Sullustan reporter eliminated because too much of his life was being exposed. Now I’ve killed a few reporters on behalf of the rich and famous but this one turned out a little different. So here’s the story: I had just finished capturing an infamous pirate in what was then part of Wild Space (and now is a part of the Bosph sector of the Outer Rim) and I received a message from a potential client on the Core world of Etzo Thokos in the Alsaka sector. Since jobs in the Core are always full of riotous intrigues, I decided it would be fun to accept the mission. When I arrived on Etzo Thokos, I was flying my old, somewhat crescent-shaped Bikoland Industrial EH33-class freighter that I had named Buddy. We (the Buddy and I) landed in a seedy district of the planet’s then twenty-third largest city, Mino Juklat, and I stepped out into acid rain. Because my employer was a meatbag I had to meet him inside a building he had specified. As I moved through the rust colored city to his preferred meeting place, the Empty Cantina (ironically, it’s just an empty building now), I found that many of the denizens simply put up with the acid falling from the sky and I concluded that it was only an irritation to the meatbags and my employer was either weak or very wealthy. I assumed he was both. Entering the cantina I quickly discovered the Écparzi barkeep was quite a droid-hater. I would have terminated him for his insolence but a Human at the bar assured him that I was working for him. Instead of destroying the barkeep, I deliberately misidentified him as a Gossam because there is nothing in the galaxy an Écparzi hates more than being mistaken for a member of its ancestor species. The human indicated that I should follow him to a backroom. We sat in a colorful booth in the rear and the human introduced himself as Petr Malex, even though my databanks already identified him as a poorly disguised Elderous Valorum. I had worked for the real Petr Malex to take down a Makurth rival named Cethbhon eight years earlier. “I’m afraid I’ve never hired a droid for anything,” Elderous was obviously unsure how to even talk to a droid that nobody owned. I remained silent as he continued, “So I assume you don’t care for small talk. Um, I need to discuss this contract though. I would like total discretion. Make it look like an accident if you can.” “That will cost five thousand extra.” “Of course,” the nervous meatbag did not even attempt to challenge me on that point. He fidgeted embarrassingly. I am quite thankful that I had not yet rediscovered that I was programmed with the ability to laugh when I found situations humorous. After a long pause most sentients would consider awkward, I prompted him by nonchalantly inquiring, “The target?” “Oh. Yes,” He was so terrified that he nearly shouted his next words. “The target is a Sullustan, a reporter.” Quieting down he asked, “You don’t have any objections to assassinating a reporter, do you?” “No,” I thoroughly enjoyed how he squirmed, even at my nonthreatening voice. “Ok, his name is Siord Sovv. He lives on Coruscant and has created a bit of trouble for…. a friend…. uh, of mine. So he has to be eliminated.” “The price?” “Thirty thousand credits, plus the five thousand for your discretion and making it look…. accidental. Do you have an account that I can transfer the money to on completion?” “Naturally.” “Of course. Naturally. Please don’t do anything brutal and no terrorizing the poor thing. I just want him killed and for it to look accidental.” I told him I would meet him again when the job was finished. He objected, saying he would simply transfer the money to my account. I agreed, suggesting that any failure to do so in a timely manner would result in complications for him. I did not think he would fail to pay but I've learned that a simple warning can remind even the most conniving of meatbags to be cooperative. Because my target was on Coruscant, one of those planets that, historically, never approves of the comings and goings of assassin droids, I had to go to Alsakan to pick up my savant friend, an Ithorian named Bobb. Since it was also one of those many times when the rich and frivolous were extra-paranoid, a large percentage of ships were being searched. So in these cases I always had a meatbag who would act as my pilot and I would pretend to be its protocol droid. The Buddy and I arrived on Coruscant with Bobb acting like a pilot and a cargo of food for some dumb Fresian restaurant owner because I always enjoyed having an actual delivery when I arrived on any world closer to the Galactic Center than Wroona since an extra income is always useful. (I did not often accept cargos in the Expasnion Region or the Mid Rim until about two centuries ago because, for a while, the only profitable materials in those places were illegal and I have contempt for smugglers for some reason. I still rarely accept any cargo in the Outer Rim.) As I anticipated, they suspected us of smuggling biological weapons or something onto Coruscant because the CSF searched our ship. Thankfully, Bobb knew every regulation in the galaxy and he quite innocently told them several rules of which they were in violation. Bobb was like that; he could even tell a well-informed assassin droid such as myself policies of which I was unaware. There are few meatbags in the galaxy whose loss I regret as much as Bobb’s. Whenever I visited an ecumenopolis, I always tried to land on the lower levels. Unfortunately, both my delivery and my target were in the wealthy upper levels of the Holonet district this time. So I landed near the Fresian restaurant that wanted my food delivery and I oversaw the offloading of the cargo. Once that was complete, I took Bobb to the massive Library of the Collus and left him in the enormous section on law and politics where I knew he would be preoccupied for a few days. From there, I wandered off to find Siord Sovv. It took me an hour to find the little Sullustan but, even though it was costing me almost five hundred credits a day to berth the Buddy where I did, I had no intention of rushing the kill. There were several instances when I could have simply knocked him off the edge of a balcony or remotely hacked a taxi to spin out of control and run him down. On the second day, I even considered messing with the settings in the corner of a fancy restaurant where he sat to cause him to suddenly breathe the atmosphere of some meatbag’s world that was poisonous to Sullustans, but I held my peace because I wanted to see if he would lead me to any other information that my employer might find useful. Moreover, he was at a table with the influential Councilor Onasi and I knew that even though Elderous wanted discretion, he would still talk and my already shaky reputation among the elite of the Core would be stained for at least a century if Onasi died beside my target. For an hour and a half I waited, hidden in plain sight while Sovv and Onasi talked. They were joined by a purple Zeltron and a golden Vorzydiak politician named Kialdan. I recognized the Zeltron as, “Bonnie,” one of my assassin colleagues who worked primarily in the Core. I knew that she only went after extremely wealthy targets and deduced that she was not a rival on my hunt. I pitied whoever her target might have been, since she was as merciless as only a few meatbags can be. After another hour, the group dissipated and as they were leaving the restaurant, Bonnie locked eyes with my then-orange optical sensors as some organics tend to do. Knowing she recognized me from one of her rare jobs in the Outer Rim when we had worked together to bring down, Chobayrro, a Wookiee assassin, I made a faint sign to indicate that Sovv was my target and she replied with equal subtlety to show that we did not share the same target. We never saw each other again after that. Sovv was moving quite slowly, painfully oblivious to his danger. He boarded an aircab and I followed in a VKX-9 aircar with conveniently tinted windows. I had used Bobb to rent it for me, but that had actually proven quite difficult because, more often than not, I had damaged or destroyed rentals. Consequently, Bobb was blacklisted among most rental companies. I had a passenger, a Mirialan named Sejj Freightmaster. I had picked up Freightmaster earlier that day, as he was wanted in District 0988 for jumping bail. Under normal circumstances I would not have bothered with such a bounty, even if the wanted criminal happened to stroll right past me like Freightmaster happened to have done. But this particular Mirialan had failed to pay me for killing a Qminmeroth bounty hunter on Darkknell so I captured him when we happened across each other on Pesaugli Street. I had decided I would deal with him most severely. Now the aircab I was trailing took Sovv all the way to the then under populated Section B-299. Fortunately, this was before Jumbot Robo Co. built their massive tower in B-299 so the area still had constant air traffic by commuters who worked in B-300 but lived in B-295 and B-296 which were more heavily populated then. Thus, I was well disguised as I drifted lazily by while Sovv’s cab landed in the hanger of an abandoned multi-story warehouse. I parked in an alley between two buildings across from the vacant warehouse. When I scanned the hanger, I saw no sign of the Sullustan and I wondered if perhaps he had observed me and stayed in the cab. Since locating Sovv again would be quite simple, I felt no concern that I might have lost him. Instead, I decided to observe the building longer and see if any other meatbags arrived. I was rewarded after only a few minutes when the same cab that had carried Sovv arrived a second time and, to my surprise, a Muun exited the cab. She was taller than the average Muun and my databank immediately identified her as Indirri Dant, an eccentric yet shrewd official of the Banking Clan. The same cab returned a third time and a Roonan holopersonality and reporter named Birno Tesh was left in the hanger. Like Dant before him, he moved through a door that led deeper into the building. I decided then to infiltrate the building and see what I could discover and locked Sejj in the driver seat of the vehicle with a cheap bottle of Bwuiggush’s Blue Wine to entertain himself while I was away. The buildings in B-299 were nearly identical on the outside in those days. Each was square-shaped and between five and seven stories tall. Most of them were empty warehouses but a few of them had apartments or businesses. They were each built on one of the four platforms, each resting on five supports that cut through what was once the open-air Tyruska Stadium and Racetrack and down into the lower levels, ultimately burying themselves deep into the surface. B-101 through B-300 were all constructed on platforms like B-299 and all were level with each other, though they differed in what they had constructed on top of them. B-299 was next to the edge, with B-300 to the north, B-298 to the south, B-249 to the west, and the Quaternary Blue District to the east, towering over it even then. Contrary to popular belief these platforms were not built overtop Section B-001 through B-100. Sectors 8971 and 8909 were constructed over those regions. Now the address of the warehouse I was about to infiltrate was 1138 NW B-299 and it was one of the buildings eventually demolished to make room for the Jumbot Robo Co. tower. It happened that 1138 NW B-299 was on the edge of one of the four platforms and I had parked in between two buildings on the edge of another platform. There were occasional walkways between each platform but I lacked the motivation to walk the two hundred meters to the nearest one. The area was somewhat empty except there was a bar that was filling with clientele now that the sun was setting and a few scattered shops with buyers and sellers milling about. I did not want to draw attention to myself but, conversely, I also felt no need to be inconspicuous. So, I leapt the fifteen meters from the southwest platform I was standing to the northwest one where the building containing my target was located. Ever so casually, I wandered around the building. It appeared all of the doors were locked and I would need to break in. That meant I would need to go into the alley next to building 1137 where I would not be in the sight of any pedestrians. As I entered the alley, I noticed no doors but there was a row of windows one story above me. I also noted that there was a vent on the platform that angled toward 1138. I sent a tiny probe droid inside and saw that it led to the ventilation system and, conveniently, I fit inside. After weighing my options, I climbed through the ventilation, reflecting on the humor of the fact that, despite all of our advanced technology, we still create structures that are easy to infiltrate via the ventilation ducts. It was quite simple to locate the room where Sovv and the others were meeting. I decided to wait inside the vent and record whatever I monitored. Besides Sovv and the two I had observed enter through the hanger, there were several other meatbags. I counted only famous faces, most of them media personalities. Three Human reporters, Hirmas Jeverin, Kay Sonkell, and Dannen Bright, were present and so was Klatooinian war-correspondent Ikan Theskoo. A Riileb political analyst named Brina Fiuler was conversing with Twi’lek model Anua Isyan and Rodian sports analyst Hoordo Battung, while Human holoactor Vamien Gretmoon sat alone. The entire group was wearing cultic, red robes with ludicrous hoods. Unsurprisingly, the Zabrak media tycoon, Medoa Beffarni, was acting as the host, probably because of his Black Sun ties. The Black Sun had not yet developed the influence in the Quaternary Blue District that they had during the Thoris Darus era, but they did control much of the surrounding areas back then. As I observed for another hour, three more sentients arrived. The first to enter was Twi’lek reporter Filon Betooro. Next, Mon Calamarian author and environmentalist Belkar arrived. When Gran billionaire Obon Koloth arrived, the cultists ceased their conversations and formed a poor circle in the middle of the room. After a few minutes of ridiculous chanting, Beffarni began speaking about the evils of the Republic and the need for the plebeians to know. I realized that the collection of meatbags I was observing were the Cult of Exposure, a secret society that briefly flared into existence six hundred seventy-two years ago. At the time, I was only vaguely aware of it but as the meeting progressed I discerned for certain their identity. I decided that I would immediately contact my employer and inform him that the little Sullustan was involved with the group and that whatever snooping was being done by Sovv would be continued by his society. It was not be unlikely that Elderous would pay me extra to eliminate the entire Cult. Finally, the meatbag shut up but then all of the cultists bowed their heads and resumed their ridiculous chanting. A green-plated protocol droid entered the room carrying a chalice that my scanner informed me was full of the hallucinogenic Yerri wine that supposedly could only be brewed in a single vat on the planet Arbra, once every century. The chalice was placed in the center of the circle and the droid left the room. As the cultists knelt over the drink, Koloth spoke, “This is the legend of King Yavin the Pure.” “Let the younglings hear the tale,” the others said, nearly in unison. “This is the legend of King Yavin the Brave,” said Belkar. “Let the younglings hear the tale,” the others fell on their knees. “This is the legend of King Yavin the Mighty,” Filon Betoorom whispered. “Let the younglings hear the tale,” the others shouted. “The younglings will hear the tale of King Yavin the Heartbroken,” Sovv declared. “They will hear of King Yavin the Fallen,” Birno Tesh added. There was a moment of silence and then Indirri Dant spoke, “King Yavin was lost. Broken. Defeated. Power and wealth were his downfall.” “Bring the younglings,” Beffarni spoke. “They shall convert. Wisdom will become them. Age will follow them. From their bodies life will flee. Sacrifice.” “I shall find them,” Hirmas Jeverin and Kay Sonkell said at once. “Take another,” Dannen Bright commanded. “One who has seen battle.” “I have seen battle,” Ikan Theskoo stated. “But I am not the one to go.” Brina Fiuler spoke, “One without fear.” “But only one may go,” Anua Isyan said. “And I must nominate the brooding one,” Hoordo Battung pointed at Vamien Gretmoon. “Unworthy,” Gretmoon stated. “I am one unworthy.” “Will no one go?” roared Beffarni. “Young chieftain,” Obon Koloth spoke solemnly. “Yell not. Rather, you must order your troops to advance as you please. Power cannot be equally divulged to underlings. Only the one you choose as your apprentice may share your power.” “The younglings will now have to come to us because none would go to them. And we will forever be few, a remnant at best. For few will come.” There was a moderate level of silence for exactly twenty-two minutes fourteen point one nine three five seven two one one one one seven four seconds. For that amount of time, the meatbags somehow managed to stand somewhat still. Then the door opened, breaking the hush, and a minor Bothan stage actor named Mekrod Lek’venn entered the room. Gretmoon escorted him to the chalice and pointed. The Bothan lifted the drink to his mouth and swallowed it in one gulp. He swooned slightly but otherwise the meatbag managed to maintain his dignity and keep the contents of his stomach from spewing out of his mouth. Bothans rarely vomit but I would have enjoyed it if he had. The obnoxious Zabrak began speaking again, welcoming the Bothan into the cult. I was honestly bored by all that was said about King Yavin since it was completely unlike the actual, historical king but I waited through the ritual. They feasted and drank for long hours, during which time I sent a few tiny probe droids around the building and found nothing of use. Finally, the cultists began to return to the hanger, one by one, to be whisked away by exactly the same aircab that brought them all there. I waited until Sovv boarded the cab and then I remotely controlled my rental VKX-9 with Sejj Freightmaster passed out in a drunken stupor behind the wheel. As the cab made a sharp turn I rammed the aircar through the cab with enough speed to shove both vehicles into an office building. Thirty seconds earlier, I had sent a report in Bobb’s name that the rental had been stolen. I confirmed an hour later that all organics had perished in the crash. As soon as I had my confirmation, I contacted Elderous’s phony identity, Petr Malex, and informed him that he would hear of Siord Sovv’s death on the holonet within a few days. Since I was talking to his Ortolan secretary, I left a message for “Malex” to hold my payment until he spoke with me. I said it was urgent and I suppose I told the truth but I was never sure if I was actually programmed not to lie in any case. It took only a matter of seconds for Elderous to contact me. “What’s wrong? Is your account closed? Where should I send the credits? I already agreed on the price and it’s too late to change the contract, now.” “Actually,” I began after Elderous was done spouting. “You and I are fine. In fact, I am so pleased with your reliability that I am going to tell you something. I just sent you some camera feed. In it you'll see Siord Sovv fraternizing with a bunch of red-robed loonies. But, if you don't want to watch the boring little tape, I can just tell you what happened. You see, Siord Sovv was involved with the Cult of Exposure. You may have heard of it; it's kind of small. There are only fifteen remaining members and I doubt that, left alone, they'll have any shot of transforming the Republic to whatever their goals are. Of course, if you watch the feed, you'll notice that many of the members are quite wealthy. I’ll contact you in a day Elderous. Just remember, if Sovv wanted to expose you, be assured the entire Cult of Exposure wants to reveal who you are.” “How did you know who I—“ “You called from your office on Coruscant, Valorum. We’ll talk price when I contact you tomorrow. In person. Meet me at the Happy Hutt, on level 46, below the CoCo Town. Disguise yourself well. Twelve hundred hours.” (Yes, we called it the CoCo Town then.) I shut off the comlink and walked into the Happy Hutt and marched into the backroom. Ubukko the Hutt, the fat proprietor, was sprawled out on her large hover-couch, giving bounty contracts out to whoever had the confidence to enter her domain. I accepted a local contract for an Arpor-Lan mercenary and an adorably furry little Squib thief. If the Hutt proved reliable with a small contract then I would later accept larger ones from the oozing ball of slime. In only a few hours, at exactly the correct time to meet Elderous, I brought in the mercenary and the thief, alive for an easy five hundred credits each. The Hutt wanted me to take more but I told her it was a bad time and that I needed to meet with one of her patrons. I instantly saw through the disguise Elderous was wearing and sat at the table he was occupying. He was preposterously dressed as a Duros peasant. Only an organic would have been fooled. “Ok, Burb,” I read the name on his tab. “I’ll eliminate every single one of them. In a humane way. Quickly. Quietly. But even though I can make it look accidental that would be pointless. Two or three rich famous people who have some connection dying can be written off as a coincidence in a galaxy of a trillion trillion meatbags. But fifteen will be investigated thoroughly. And not even I can make fifteen accidents. But for half a million credits and a reimbursement of my landing fee, I can make sure that all fifteen die and it’s never traced to you.” “HALF A MILLION CREDITS?!?” all of the patrons noticed our table. It was embarrassing. “Do you think I can spend half a million credits just like that?” “To end this now, before it wrecks your career, yes. Hire another assassin and it will probably cost you more than a million and the job won’t be as clean. Hire a group to cut your costs and it will surely be traced back to you. It’s your choice. I can only guarantee myself, no one else.” “But—” “Besides, Koloth has always hindered your career anyway,” I managed to keep it so quiet that only Elderous heard me. “Fine,” the meatbag relented as easily as I had anticipated. I decided that the hardest to kill would be either the Gran billionaire Obon Koloth or else the tycoon Medoa Beffarni followed by the Banking Clan official, Indirri Dant. The others would be as easy to kill as Sovv. For a day, I observed Koloth and discovered I was right about how difficult he would be to kill. He had already figured out that Sovv had likely been assassinated and had traced the rental to poor, oblivious Bobb. He was now having both the Ithorian and the Buddy carefully watched, while bolstering the security at his estates. Outside, he had both visible and invisible bodyguards surrounding him at all times. Thankfully, he made my job easier by not sharing his suspicions with the other Cult of Exposure members. I have no doubt that, like Beffarni, he was only a member of the cult to protect himself from it. The plan of action I chose was to pit him against Dant and convince him to pay me to eliminate her. I knew the Muun was trusted by neither Koloth nor Beffarni and all I would have to do was prove that Indirri Dant had paid me to kill Siord Sovv. I convinced Elderous to pay me for Sovv’s death through a Banking Clan account. Then I altered the trail just enough that it appeared that the funds passed directly through Dant’s hands. After a few days, I contacted Koloth and told him that I killed Siord Sovv and that, for the right price, I would protect him from the same fate by the same employer. I told him that the Banking Clan had paid me to do it. His assistant warned me that any practical jokes would result in my being sued by the billionaire. Then I waited. Sure enough Koloth investigated my claim and traced the money as far as Dant. As soon as I had turned in another local bounty for Ubukko the Hutt, this time a Bith musician fleeing his debt, I received a call on my personal comlink. “Hello?” I answered unprofessionally and fully aware that I was being called by Koloth’s assistant. The voice on the other end was unimpressed, “One million credits non-negotiable. Kill Indirri Dant. You know which Indirri Dant. Nothing cute. Fail and your memory will be wiped and you will serve only Obon Koloth until his death and then you’ll be melted down for scrap, along with your ship. In case you have any kind of sentiment for your Ithorian pilot, he will be sold into the worst kind of slavery. Unless you successfully kill Dant and make it look like an accident, all of these things will happen to you.” The communication ended and part of me regretted that this was the only time I would ever work for the Koloth. Eliminating Indirri Dant was disappointingly simple. Her pilot was one of the best in the galaxy, a Cathar who had flown against the Vile Ones in the Subterrel Conflict, but even he could not overcome mysterious mechanical errors. My decision to cause her ship to crash was effortless and it was surprisingly easy to accomplish. Flying accidents were my signature assassinations at the time and I thought if I did something that was manifestly my work then Koloth would never expect the manner in which I would kill him. I succeeded and Indirri Dant was aboard her ship when it crashed into Coruscant’s moon of Centax-3 where she had intended to visit another Muun who was staying at the Trextanst Resort. Indirri Dant was killed in the crash and Koloth contacted me to arrange for me to pick up my money. Much to my discomfort, he wished for me to come directly to his estate next to the Manarai Mountains. When I arrived at the gate to his mansion, I declined an offer to enter, saying I had a contract to fulfill on Balmorra or else my quarry might escape. A Human servant came to the gate with a large briefcase which I scanned before it arrived and detected several credit chits totaling one million in value. To be sure that I was not being cheated, I opened the case and individually scanned enough random credits to feel satisfied. In an absurd gesture, I shook hands with the Human and thanked him for his master’s business, claiming that if he needed me in the future I would be readily available. It was while I was scouting Medoa Beffarni’s lifestyle the following day that I learned Obon Koloth and his family had died of wretch, a once extinct plague that only affect the Gran species. It was of course exactly the same plague that I had transferred to the Human meatbag when I shook his hand and thanked him for his master’s business. I had acquired it at a cost of nearly one hundred thousand credits, but I considered it worth the price to eliminate my most difficult prey in a multi-target, one point five million credit contract. The surviving non-Gran workers of House Koloth were being quarantined in case they were carrying the plague. (The health officials’ effort was pointless as the plague had already escaped and millions of Gran throughout the Core died in one of the worst epidemics in the history of their people. I would have regretted it if I were a sentient, but I realize it could have been an astronomical coincidence, too.) I found it ironic to watch one of my targets, Filon Betoorom, reporting on the tragedy of how the billionaire died after having just made multiple new investments, including in entertainment by promoting the career of the rising star from Bothawui, Mekrod Lek’venn. As I searched for ways to kill each of my targets, the war-correspondent Ikan Theskoo, travelled to the Thusa sector to cover a conflict breaking out among the Fiskerites of Veezigin. Since it was being mediated by the Jedi, I knew it would be settled before the mercenaries involved could make any real money. I contacted a Nikto that I knew at the time who happened to be one of those mercenaries. I offered him five thousand credits to kill Theskoo. He did so and I wired him the money. While this was going on, I developed a plan to kill Beffarni. I decided to simply walk into his home and do the job. It was not quite that easy, as paranoia had caused him to hire several bodyguards and purchase a few warbots, but I wanted to do it because the model Anua Isyan and the Roonan holopersonality Birno Tesh had come to the wealthy Zabrak’s manor to hide from the obvious war against the Cult of Exposure. I fought my way in and killed everyone and everything I saw. My three targets attempted to escape through a secret passage but I already knew where it was and I gassed them through the ventilation while they were in it. Part of me regretted how easy the job was becoming. I really wished I had saved one of the more difficult ones for last. The human, Vamien Gretmoon, was acting in a holovid about a Dark Jedi who served an evil tyrant and was redeemed by his son, a farmer-turned-rebel-turned-Jedi. I decided to assassinate him next, since it would be easy to make it appear to be an accident. There was a scene that required a talented driver to play as Gretmoon’s stuntman. In it, he would fly an aircar through a building at high speed and come out the other side. If the driver made any error, he would crash and probably die. However, Gretmoon enjoyed risk taking and wanted to ride in the passenger seat during the stunt. As it was taking place, I arranged for a droid to accidentally move a few crates into the car’s path. The driver hit the crates and spun out of control. Gretmoon died in the accident and the car was totaled. I was surprised to learn the stunt driver had survived. Eliminating the Bothan stage actor Mekrod Lek’venn proved to be quite simple. A young Barabel was working as his bodyguard and I infiltrated Lek’venn’s apartment and kidnapped the two of them. Then I killed them and hid their bodies down in a garbage dump on the lowest level of the city. On the same day I arranged an accident on the set of a Brina Fiuler’s political show. Renovations were taking place in the newsroom and it was simple to cause a construction droid to fall over and crush the political analyst. That night, I visited the human reporter Dannen Bright in his home and made his death appear to be a suicide and I poisoned some of the food in Kay Sonkell’s apartment. She died and the poison decayed into a harmless preservative before investigators could prove any foul play. Being a droid meant I never had to sleep, obviously. Before the sun had risen I climbed through the window of the Mon Calamarian author, Belkar, and shot him. He was unimportant enough a person in galactic events that his murder would never be connected with the other deaths of the night. The following day, I hid under a walkway that Hirmas Jeverin used on the way to work. He always walked too close to the edge and, as I clung to the underside, I grabbed the meatbag’s ankle and pulled him off. The other sentients present never even saw me and I slipped away unnoticed. Filon Betoorom had been extremely careful, never exposing himself to danger. I could have easily overridden his apartment security system but I decided another foul play kill would be fun. So I picked him off with my 78N1-4p sniper rifle that I was using that century. My only remaining target was Hoordo Battung the sportscaster. He was probably the smartest of my targets, taking an indefinite vacation on Rodia. I informed Elderous that the last of his enemies had fled the planet and I would be travelling offworld to catch him. And I told him I had no plans to return to the Core for a while so, once I killed Battung, I expected the credits transferred to my account. I caught up with the slimy Rodian and arranged for a little skiing accident. My mission was a success and I took Bobb home to Alsakan. After I received my payment from the meatbag Elderous, the GenoHaradan informed me that I needed to step down from assassination. Most likely, when I observed the Zeltron assassin, Bonnie, I had seen too much. I have taken on a few bounty hunter and assassin guilds in the past and won, but I felt this case was a little different. I always suspected the GenoHaradan were the last people to wipe my memory and I think they still had the power to do so again. This time, I supposed the only reason they did not wipe my memory was that I had done them a favor by wiping out the Cult of Exposure. Besides that, there were occasions when I worked for them and they always paid me handsomely and I knew they wanted to use me again someday. So, I took a break from assassination and became a scout for a little less than fifty years, though part of that time was spent marooned in the Unknown Regions. Now, I seem to recall that organics want answers. I am sure you, the reader are asking yourselves, “What did the Cult of Exposure learn that was so damaging to Elderous?” or “Who is Petr Malex and was he angry that Elderous pretended to be him?” Well, I need to answer the first question second and the second first for this to make sense. Petr Malex was a member of the Black Sun and the half-brother of Elderous Valorum. Now Malex and most of the Valorum family never knew this but Elderous had been told by his mother that he happened to have a younger brother named Petr Malex whose father was one of their servants, Jak Cade. Petr's father never knew but Elderous's father always suspected. Now, even though Petr Malex had become a Vigo of the Black Sun by the age of twenty, Elderous nobly felt that it was his duty to use his own position to protect his little brother. Thus, even though he would use his brother’s identity when dealing with the criminal underworld, Malex never took revenge on him because, for reasons he did not know, this random politician fifteen years his senior was always making sure the authorities turned a blind eye to his operations. So what did the Cult of Exposure learn that was so damaging to Elderous? The answer is simple. They discovered that one of the galaxy’s most dangerous criminals, Petr Malex, was the son of the Lady Aquaina Valorum. Elderous loved two people in the galaxy more than anyone, his wife and his mother. Since this information would not only destroy the Valorum reputation but be devastatingly embarrassing to his mother, he decided he had to act in order to protect her good name in the Core. So he hired me to kill those with the information.
* A message from the editorial staff: It should be noted that there is no historical evidence that any such group as the GenoHaradan ever existed after the rulership of the Tionese by Xim. Elberri Press is a publisher of all genre of material but we would like to echo the posthumously released statement of our recent Editor in Chief, Tremo Denutt, who thoroughly researched the so-called GenoHaradan before his unfortunate death and say that the GenoHaradan never existed and we at Elberri Press do not espouse any other viewpoint.
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