Dark Bounty--A STAR WARS STORY Part 1

The Pit of the Keeper

The blue planet of Anthan Prime, located in the Outer Rim of the galaxy, was home to the floating city of Spire, a popular vacation hub for the extremely rich. As a more extravagant alternative to the gas-mining Cloud City, the blue cloud formations created by the unpredictable planetary storms made dazzling horizons for which patrons were willing to pay exorbitant rates. Spire's elegant architecture was a blend of smooth and sharp lines, having two disc-shaped levels with multiple sharp pinnacle resorts rising from the larger top level. There was nothing unpleasant with the city spectacle, and the vacationers knew it.

However, this was not a vacation locale for the Keeper; to him, it was home. Located on the equator of the larger upper-level disc, his residence had a perfect view of the atmospheric wonders. Many of the wealthy preferred the penthouse suites of the resorts, but the Keeper's unique hobbies required more space than the pinnacle tips provided. His personal landing pad was large enough to accommodate a dozen state-of-the-art black T-85 X-Wings for his men, a suitable defense to any that would try to run off with one of his collections.

Currently, he walked on his two thick legs with a satisfied strut through his massive hangar. Two dozen armed lackeys guarded the open hangar bay that led to the landing pad, and another dozen were peppered throughout the interior. IG-88 and the long-haired Zabrak followed close behind. Antique ships lined the walls from front to back, having been carefully detailed to look pristine in the blue artificial light. He stopped to look at a T-65B X-Wing starfighter from the First Galactic Civil War and gloated to himself with his wide toothless smile. Sitting next to it, a same-era TIE/LN starfighter slept. Added to that, the great hall housed multiple Clone War ships such as the Delta-6 Sprite-class starfighter, the Eta-2 Actis-class interceptor, and even a few Vulture droids. In all, he had over a hundred antique ships in his collection, but as with most obsessions, his appetite was not satiated.

He hiccoughed as he strode to an empty space; the dull grey floor starkly contrasted the ships on either side. It was hollow, devoid, barren; and the Keeper despised it. He closed his black eyes and imagined the Millennium Falcon filling the vacancy, as his wide mouth narrowed to a frown. Then his thoughts fell to the clone girl.

He turned to IG-88 and the Zabrak and with a subtle and low pitched voice said, "Cahil, Eighty-Eight, I would like to talk to the clone-prime."

Patch crouched in the dim light of a windowless and red-colored room. There was a bench to sit on, but Patch sat on the floor, her head resting on her forearms, which rested on her knees. It had been hours since anyone had visited her, and that was just to give her the daily meal of grain paste and water. She did not cry as most children would but remained silent and observant. She listened carefully to the footsteps outside the door and tried to guess who they were, how often they came and if there was any pattern. She had checked and double-checked the room for any panels or free wires she could find that she might be able to loosen and manipulate. However, it was apparent that the Keeper had use for a room desolate of anything and everything. It was a prison cell.

Patch, therefore simply sat, and listened. She could hear the door at the end of the hallway zip open and close, then three pairs of feet; one light-footed, one metallic, and one heavy-set. The steps approached and stalled at the front of her door. She listened as the control panel beeped when one of them entered a code, and then finally the door opened.

The Keeper's large body, fitted with a dark-brown tailored suit, filled the frame of the door. The high collar of his suit rose up under his dewlap, and his sleeves extended down to his wrists.

"I hope you are comfortable--hic," the Keeper commented as he entered the room. "This room can be a little stuffy."

Patch desired to remain aloof like Boba, but could not help but speak. "I'm surprised you fit in here."