Galaxy: A STAR WARS Collection

Hunted

Too-Whul III

8 Years After the Battle of Yavin

. . .

The target was now in sight.

Torill had been sitting at one of the spaceport's quieter cafés for almost half an hour, just long enough to make it look like he'd been stopping by for a casual cup of caf and to take in the latest holonews.

Clad in a traveller's cloak, he kept his appearance simple: his greying hair was of short-to-mid length and swept back while his well-trimmed facial hair complimented his rugged features. He had the eyes of a younger man, a piercing jade green with flecks of amber. He was also in great shape – he couldn't afford to be anything less.

He looked perfectly casual. More importantly, he looked perfect for blending in. To anyone he looked like any other traveller – little did they know he was a well-trained bounty hunter armed to the teeth with various blades and blasters he could use in numerous ways to neutralise any species he could possibly encounter.

The terminal was a reasonably small spaceport on Too-Whul III, though even on a slow day it was easy enough to blend in. Torill had already counted several dozen civilians going about their daily lives, civilians representing numerous different species from all corners of the Galaxy.

Too-Whul III was the third and smallest moon in the Too-Whul system, a quiet collection of planets on the edge of the Outer Rim where people came to escape their old lives and start again. It was a place to disappear. It was a safe place – most of the time.

He watched his target descend down the passenger boarding bridge from the interplanetary Star Commuter transport that had shuttled passengers from Too-Whul Prime. The target was trying to blend in with the new arrivals as a picture-perfect refugee; he wasn't carrying anything in the way of luggage other than a small sack in his hand and he was draped in a long brown cloak similar to those being worn by other passengers. It was almost a professional look for someone trying to hide; the only problem was that even with the hood up he hadn't hidden his face well enough.

Torill waited until his target had moved further through the spaceport, taking another sip of his caf as he mentally ran through what little notes he had.

The target's name was Duine Zyrich. A human male standing at one-point-eight metres tall sporting dark brown hair that just barely reached down to the point where his head met his neck. His skin was slightly tanned and his eyes were dark – or at least that was his appearance in the holoimage Torill had been given. From his position just over twenty metres away, Torill could see that Zyrich's appearance hadn't been altered in any way.

Sloppy, he thought.

According to the bounty puck, Zyrich was wanted for bail jumping on Milvayne and had skipped over a dozen planets to evade law enforcement. None of it was of particular importance anymore – Torill had tracked his target well and had learnt where his next intended move was. He had beaten Zyrich to the system and had more than enough time to get into a position to continue tracking his target.

Things were about to be put into motion. It was time for Torill to change gears. He sat as casually as he had done for the past half hour.

Zyrich briskly walked past the café without so much as glancing around and looking like a tourist; he looked more like someone who was impatient and had somewhere they needed to be.

Torill waited until Zyrich was a good twenty metres past before he finished his caf and tucked away his holonews reader. He didn't quite match Zyrich's pace but he also didn't let himself fall too far behind, all while trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. He doubted Zyrich would have noticed anyway.