Jedi Insurgency 277 (Interlude 38)

As the other core members of the Rebel Alliance made their move, Padmé Amidala was not one to sit this conflict out. Although countless Imperial agents were scouring the galaxy for her, she did not shirk in her role as a diplomat, and negotiator. Traveling from neutral world to neutral world to rally support against the Empire, she had eventually landed on Trandosha. 

She was accompanied by the young Mandalorian, Boba Fett, an HK unit, HK-51 Z, and the talented super commando, Crix Madine. Before them was the Sacred Hunters Hall, a place dedicated towards the Scorekeeper, the Goddess of the Trandoshan religion. 

The hall's black stone walls rose like the sides of a canyon, decorated with the skulls of beasts taken from thousands of worlds. Great bones hung from iron chains overhead, each carved with the name of the hunter who had made the kill and the Jagannath points awarded by the Scorekeeper. Braziers burned with green fire, filling the chamber with pungent smoke, while massive Trandoshan clan banners descended from the rafters.

Padmé walked beneath them without breaking stride, refusing to be intimidated by these trophies. Privately, she even felt some disgust at the barbaric practice, but as the practiced politician she was, didn't reveal a trace of disdain. Calm and poised, she strode forward with confidence, bravely ignoring the threatening hisses coming from the shadows of the hunter's hall. 

She wore neither senatorial robes nor royal finery. Her form fitted white combat uniform was practical for the moment, declaring her stance in this hostile environment. Armed with a heavy blaster pistol holstered against her thigh, her dark hair had been drawn back into a long braid. She appeared almost delicate beside the towering reptilian warriors gathered around the hall, but every measured step carried the composure of a queen entering her own throne room.

Boba Fett walked at her right. The young bounty hunter wore the Mandalorian armor that had once belonged to his father. His helmet remained beneath one arm, exposing a face that was full of the arrogance of youth. 

Crix Madine kept to Padmé’s left. The young super commando wore matte-grey armor and carried a compact blaster carbine across his chest. His eyes moved constantly, counting doorways, guards, elevated firing positions, and the distances between the clan leaders.

Behind them came HK-51 Z.

The assassin droid’s metal frame had been painted in subdued black and crimson. He wore a long, loose poncho full of hidden weapons. Blasters, throwing blades, sonic grenades, and a poison gas particularly painful towards the lizard-folk were his armaments. 

On the raised stone platform ahead waited six clan leaders, each large enough to tear a human apart with his bare claws. At their center sat K’zhan, a broad-shouldered Trandoshan draped in the hides of rare predators, among them the pelt of a black furred Wookiee, one of the most dangerous shadowland creatures from Kashyyyk. Scores of teeth, claws, and finger bones hung from cords around his neck, and white paint marked his scales in angular religious symbols.

K’zhan was the living representative for the Scorekeeper, responsible for adding or subtracting the Jagennoth points of his fellow hunters. 

The first clan leader leaned forward and drew a talon slowly across the arm of his stone throne. “This is what the softskins send us?”

A ripple of hissing laughter moved through the gathering.

Another chief pointed toward Boba. “A weakling female leading a Mandalorian pup.” His claw shifted toward HK-51 Z. “An unknown machine.” Then toward Madine. “And a barely passable commando who cannot conceal that he has already counted every door in the room.”

“Seven is a bit much. Afraid we'll escape?” Madine’s expression remained composed as he let out a small, ‘harmless’ smile. 

The clan leaders laughed again, their long tongues flickered in amusement. 

“Eight.” HK-51 Z corrected in his robotic voice. “Clarification: The drainage channel beneath the eastern wall is sufficiently large to permit an emergency withdrawal. Murderous intent: It is the perfect place to plant explosives, do you not agree?”

Madine glanced back at the droid, rolling his eyes. “Thank you, Z. We didn't want the lizards to think this place was rigged to blow, did we?” 

“Courteous response: You are welcome. The meatbags should know how they died before the light leaves their eyes.”

Several clan leaders hissed in anger, narrowing their eyes. Some of those watching from the shadows raised their blasters. 

Boba's fingers twitched, already knowing which slime he'd blast first. 

K’zhan ignored these threats, and descended from the high platform, each footfall accompanied by the clicking of the trophies around his neck. He approached Padmé until he towered over her, his yellow eyes narrowing with open contempt.

“You stand upon the soil where the Scorekeeper first taught us to hunt. Brazenly entering the sacred hall of our ancestors without tribute, nor the slave collar around your neck. The scent of fear is lacking, hsss, tell me, little female, why should we hear anything you have to say?” K'zhan hissed out a low growl. 

Padmé met his gaze, then stared up at an altar of the Goddess. 

“Because I came to offer you a war.” Her quiet, clear voice spread throughout the venue. 

K’zhan threw back his head and laughed. It was a rough, bewildered thing full of ridicule and disbelief. 

The clan leaders joined him, their voices rumbling through the stone chamber. Trandoshan guards struck the butts of their weapons against the floor. One hissed something about keeping Padmé as a maid only fit to oil his scales. Another suggested that the Mandalorian boy might fetch a respectable price if properly fed.

K’zhan lowered his face until his snout hovered only inches from hers.

“Perhaps we will take all four of you. The pup could be trained, your machine could be dismantled for scrap, and this commando might provide some sport. And you…” His tongue flicked between his teeth. “You would make a pretty slave for whichever clan earned the right to own you.”

Boba’s free hand drifted toward his blaster, Madine shifted his weight by half an inch, and HK-51 Z’s photoreceptors brightened in joyful anticipation. 

Padmé stared at him unamused. 

“I am Padmé Amidala. At fourteen, I led the liberation of Naboo after an occupying army seized my capital. I infiltrated the royal palace, fought my way through its security forces, and captured the leadership of the Trade Federation.” 

As she spoke, the amusement slowly began to fade from the Trandoshans faces, and a thick air of solemnity spread amongst them. 

“I survived an assassination attempt involving two venomous kouhuns. I fought in the execution arena on Geonosis after freeing myself from a restraint post and killing the Nexu sent to tear me apart. I escaped a droid foundry, fought in the opening battle of the Clone Wars, and participated in military operations on worlds ranging from Rodia to Mon Cala. I have faced battle droids, assassins, bounty hunters, monsters, traitors, and Sith.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“I have also survived the Galactic Senate, though I admit that victory required considerably more endurance.”

Padmé indicated Boba without looking away from K’zhan. “Boba Fett is the unaltered clone and sole heir of Jango Fett, who killed Jedi with his bare hands, trained the clone army, and was regarded as one of the deadliest Mandalorians of his age. Boba has survived Kamino, Geonosis, Imperial pursuit, criminal wars, and repeated encounters with enemies twice his size and three times his age. He has hunted across the galaxy and stood before Jedi Master Revan with a blade in his hand.”

The clan leaders looked at the boy again. This time, their appraisal was markedly different.

Boba raised his chin, and stared the lizards down, daring them to make a move. 

Padmé gestured toward Madine. “Crix Madine has penetrated Imperial facilities believed to be impenetrable, destroyed hardened military targets, led special operations behind enemy lines, and escaped forces that outnumbered his teams hundreds to one. He has fought stormtroopers, commandos, armored vehicles, and Imperial intelligence officers. If he counted your doors, it was not because he feared you. It was because he had already planned how to kill you before using each one.”

Madine gave the clan leaders a polite nod.

Finally, Padmé turned her palm toward HK-51 Z. The droid straightened proudly.

“HK-51 Z belongs to an assassin network responsible for the deaths of Hutt warlords, corporate tyrants, Imperial commanders, intelligence operatives, and entire security detachments. His series has infiltrated the heart of the Empire, turned soldiers against one another, sabotaged planetary defenses, and helped bring ruin to Palpatine’s palace.”

“Pleased declaration: I have also killed thirty-seven Trandoshans.”

Every reptilian face turned toward him.

“Addendum: Thirty-eight, if the individual bleeding behind the western pillar expires before receiving medical attention.”

A guard near the pillar looked down sharply. A thin metal dart protruded from the joint beneath his breastplate.

HK-51 Z inclined his head. “He attempted to approach Senator Amidala from behind. I found this discourteous.”

No one laughed now.

The clan chiefs stared at the four visitors with narrowed eyes. Quiet hisses passed among them as they recalculated the encounter according to the only arithmetic that truly mattered on Trandosha: Battles survived, powerful enemies slain, great beasts overcome, and how many victories one had under their belt. 

Their holy script meant every Trandoshan pursued Jagannath points. The intangible thing every hunter pursues so that his glory can carry him into the afterlife. And these four beings in front of them-due to their deeds-were worth a great many points! 

“You speak of worthy kills. Now. You cannot leave here, not even as slaves.” K'zhan said, licking his lips as if he had just laid eyes upon the juiciest steak. 

“A Great Hunt is coming, the greatest the galaxy has seen in millennia.” She said, ignoring the blatant threat. “The Empire believes itself the ultimate predator. It hunts Jedi to extinction, enslaves worlds, destroys cultures and is extremely anti-xenos.” 

Her words seemed to pique the interest of a few clan leaders, and K'zhan halted his aggression, curious to hear more. 

“My allies are gathering fleets, warriors, Jedi, Mandalorians, droids, rebels, and armies from worlds the Empire believes to be loyal. Soon, all of them will be unleashed. Every Imperial fortress will become a hunting ground. Every Star Destroyer will become a trophy. There will be Sith, Inquisitors, stormtrooper legions, war machines, and monsters engineered in secret laboratories as our enemies.” 

The green fire cast a fierce light across her face, and this once great proponent of peace gathered herself, determined to win this war, to convince yet another people to stand against the Empire. 

“The people of Trandosha are invited to take part in this hunt. But make no mistake, this offer is a one time deal. You may enter it as predators….or as prey.” 

The hall erupted at this blatant provocation. Clan leaders surged from their seats, roaring curses and challenges. Guards brought their rifles to bear. K’zhan’s ceremonial hides whipped around him as he spread his arms, demanding silence, though his own face had twisted with fury.

Boba set his helmet over his head and sealed it with a hiss. His blaster cleared its holster before the first guard had fully raised his weapon. Madine dropped into a fighting stance, carbine pressed firmly against his shoulder. Panels in HK-51 Z’s forearms slid open, revealing a compact blaster in one wrist and a cluster of microdarts in the other.

“Eager query: May I begin aggressive negotiations?” The droid requested. 

“Not yet.” Padmé answered.

K’zhan laughed, though rage burned behind his yellow eyes. “Not yet? You dare call us prey while standing in our sacred hall? You brought four hunters into the jaws of Trandosha and imagined we would bow?”

More guards emerged along the balconies, and the doors slammed shut behind the delegation one by one. Dozens of weapons settled upon Padmé and her companions, and the lizardfolk hissed, eager to slaughter. 

“The Scorekeeper has delivered you to us. The only prey here is you.” K'zhan declared. “However, it is difficult to divide so many pointsss.” The tattooed priest tapped a claw on his chin in thought. 

Several clan leaders began to argue that they should be the one to settle the hunt. That the four delegates should be released into the wilds, and taken down as the Scorekeeper demanded. 

Whilst the Trandoshans were busy arguing, Padmé raised one eyebrow, and said a single word: 

“Chewbacca.”

Seconds later, something massive struck the hall’s outer doors. The ancient slabs shuddered in their frames, and the guards nearest them spun around just as a second impact tore one door from its hinges and hurled it across the chamber. It crashed through a line of Trandoshans in an explosion of shattered stone.

Chewbacca charged through the breach with his bowcaster raised, roaring so loudly that dust rained down from the rafters. Hundreds of Wookiee warriors followed him, brandishing heavy swords, slings, and bowcasters. 

They poured through shattered windows, descended from the balconies on cables, and crashed through side entrances previously thought secure. The guards stationed outside were swiftly overwhelmed. Bowcasters thundered, Ryyk blades flashed, and big furry fists clobbered heads. A Wookiee seized one Trandoshan by the ankles and used him to knock down two more.

The gathering dissolved into magnificent chaos. 

Boba fired a cable around the weapon arm of a clan guard and yanked him face-first into the floor, then melted him with his flamer. Madine shot three blaster bolts, faster than a pair of guards could draw their weapons. HK-51 Z rotated at the waist, firing poisoned less-than-lethal painful darts while cheerfully announcing a rising tally. 

The one grate on the floor exploded with toxic nerve gas. Calibrated by HK-51 Z, it was only effective against Trandoshans, causing large swaths of them to fall down, twitching in extreme agony. 

Chewbacca reached K’zhan, caught the religious leader’s ceremonial staff in one hand, and snapped it in half, then he punched the once proud lizardman across the platform.

K’zhan struck the base of his own stone chair and collapsed beneath the trophies of his ancestors.

Before long, the fighting came to an end. Trandoshans groaned across the chamber their weapons lay in heaps beneath Wookiee guard. Every entrance had been taken, and the leaders of Trandosha were now under the heel of their most hated rivals. 

Padmé remained exactly where she had been before the first door fell. Chewbacca approached her, breathing heavily, and offered a satisfied rumble.

“Your timing was excellent, thank you for coming to our aid.” The Senator inclined her head. 

The Wookiee gave her a big bear hug, happy to have finally brought the fight to his ancient enemy. 

Padmé wheezed out of the heavy hug, and climbed onto the raised altar. Below her, Wookiees and Trandoshans glared at one another with generations of hatred simmering between them. Boba stood to one side with smoke curling from his blaster, Madine had not so much as scuffed his armor, and HK-51 Z was examining an unconscious clan guard as though debating whether he qualified as dead for statistical purposes.

K’zhan dragged himself upright, and glared. 

Padmé looked down at him. “By the laws of your faith, I defeated you. Your guards were overcome, your clan leaders captured, and your sacred hall taken. Therefore, unless I have misunderstood Trandoshan doctrine, the Jagannath points you wagered in this confrontation now belong to me.”

The silence that followed her declaration was practically palpable. Every Trandoshan present practically went milk white as their glory had been stolen. How could they face their ancestors now?! 

Boba’s helmet dipped as he tried to conceal his amusement, and Madine shook his head trying, and failing to find sympathy for this race of notorious mercenaries, bounty hunters, and slavers. 

Padmé descended until she stood before K’zhan once more. “If you want my head in order to reclaim your points and restore your honor, then come for me. I will face your hunters anywhere, at any time. I will not hide behind my title, my allies, or my people.”

Her eyes hardened.

“However, if you truly wish to honor the Scorekeeper-if you want to earn more Jagannath points than your clans have accumulated in a thousand generations-then stop hunting slaves and the weak. Hunt something worthy.”

She pointed toward the open doors and the stars beyond Trandosha.

“Join us. Hunt the Empire.”

K’zhan stared at her, humiliation warring with calculation in his eyes. Around him, the clan leaders looked from the defeated guards to the Wookiee army, then toward Boba Fett, Crix Madine, and the assassin droid who had entered their sacred hall without fear.

At last, an elderly clan chief rose from the floor. Blood ran from his nostril, but wonder burned in his reptilian eyes.

“How many Star Destroyers?” He asked.

“Thousands.” Came her reply. 

A hungry murmur passed through the hall.

Another leader leaned forward. “And Sith? Walkers? Commanders? Imperial champions?”

“All of them…if you are strong enough.” Padmé said with a sly smile. 

After hearing this insult, various clan chiefs snarled, and began arguing over which of them would claim the first Imperial governor. One demanded a Sith. Another insisted his clan would bring down a Star Destroyer.

K’zhan slowly began to applaud. He climbed to his feet, torn hides hanging from his shoulders, and looked upon Padmé Amidala as though seeing her for the first time.

“You came to Trandosha offering war. We accept.” He hissed, holding out a massive clawed hand, practically daring the petite woman to offer herself as a hostage. 

Padmé extended her hand, looking him sternly in the eyes. What she said next made K'zhan look at her with newfound respect. 

“No, High Priest, I came offering prey.”

~~~~~~~

AN: The “Good Guys” never team up with the Trandoshans, but that's because they don't understand how to negotiate. Although I've painted Padmé in a less than favorable light in this story, she is a legitimate Hero. One capable of great deeds.