Chapter Text
"I have to admit that I'm impressed, Akuna." Commander Lank Denvik pronounced as he set out two etched crystal glasses on his imposing black desk. He produced an expensive bottle of Alderaanian spiced brandy from one of the desk's cabinets before he continued, "I know that you reassured me of your ability to produce a Jedi for our ally but given Kestis' record, I was not expecting you to be successful. As a matter of fact, I feared that I was going to lose my best asset on this job. You might have experience but Kestis has escaped the Empire's best, including two Inquisitors, on numerous occasions."
Bode chuckled darkly before accepting a proffered glass that contained a great deal more than the standard two finger pour that galactic etiquette would dictate when savoring such expensive liquor. "If I might be so bold as to point out your preference for frequenting the casino worlds—"
"You may." Denvik nodded, sinking comfortably into his large and luxurious black bantha hide chair.
"When you're betting, who do you put your money on?"
The balding man eyed him warily over his glass for a moment, as though trying to determine if Bode had an ulterior motive in asking such a benign question. After a long draw off his drink, he settled back in his seat before he answered.
"It depends on the game and certainly the odds." Denvik's answer was non-committal at best.
Obviously there was a good reason that the man was still working for the Empire and hadn't given up the strict—albeit stable—life of a Commander for the Imperial Security Bureau. He had no idea how to play the game.
Kicking his feet up on the edge of the Commander's desk, something he knew aggravated the man to no end although Denvik had yet to break him of the habit, Bode smiled over his own glass. "Let me give you a bit of advice, Commander. The next time you hit up one of the casinos, forget about the odds and where the house expects the chips to fall. Go all in on the underdog and you'll come out on top every time."
"Perhaps you should join me on my next shore leave." Denvik mused dryly. "Consider it a bonus for a job well done. With the deposit delivered by Senator Sejan himself on delivery of the Jedi in addition to the funds to be wired after our show is over, I think it is fair to say that you've earned it."
For a moment, Bode pretended to weigh the offer, as if he actually wanted to travel anywhere in the Galaxy with the ISB Commander who had him by the balls. After just enough time passed, he opened his mouth to respond but the Imperial broadcast sprang to life on the holoprojector between them before Bode could propose a different type of shore leave. He covered up his sigh by taking another long drink of the strong brandy.
His proposal would have to wait for another time.
The crisp projection showed not just one, but six individuals, being marched out into the chambers of the Imperial Senate. All wore heavy black duraweave bags over their heads. Bode's eyes narrowed as he studied the image and then his eyes flashed up to Denvik's expression, carefully examining the man's reaction to the scene laid out before them. Given their risky line of work, bypassing Darth Vader and his Inquisitorious, they were generally privy to outstanding bounties captured and dealt with through underground networks established by other greedy Imperials looking to garner favor with the Emperor or earn a few extra credits under the table.
By the look on Denvik's face, he was as surprised as Bode was.
Bode couldn't help but add one more item to the list of reasons that Denvik remained in his miserable line of work: the man had a terrible sabacc face.
Next to the holoprojector, a red light began to blink slowly, accompanied by a low pulsing tone. From being present in Denvik's office a multitude of times when messages of high import were being transmitted, Bode knew that red only meant one thing—Coruscant was calling and the person on the other end of that comm would not be kept waiting. In that regard, it worked to Bode's advantage to be Denvik's dog, sniffing out the bounties and eliminating his problems so the man could live far more comfortably than most Imperial Commanders; he was always present when all hell broke loose. Having access to that kind of knowledge gave Bode bargaining power should the tables ever turn and he found himself on the wrong side of the Empire's blaster.
The image of the Emperor as he began his speech faded away, his holoimage replaced by surveillance footage of four individuals wielding lightsabers or brazenly demonstrating what Bode could only assume was some sort of gift in the Force, right there in the crypts of the Jedi Temple. The surveillance records were shown from multiple angles, producing incredibly clear images of the idiots dumb enough to raid the Jedi Temple, likely convinced that they were going to rescue Cal Kestis from his certain death.
"I suppose that explains the—" Bode started but then felt a rush of ice through his veins as yet another recording played.
The footage continued on, this time showing a stormtrooper that appeared to be willingly allowing himself to be carried onto the craft by the four Force wielding fools, and Bode knew without a doubt that it was no conscript or willing servant of the Empire hidden beneath the scuffed and dirty white helmet. It was Kestis. That accounted for five of the hooded individuals being paraded before the Senate, all of them likely to be some sorry failure or low level stormtroopers that failed their Emperor on that fated day, but there were six to be executed. A mere moment later, Bode realized that the sixth to be executed must have been their renegade pilot, at least, it would have been the pilot if they hadn't made a successful getaway—no small feat given Coruscant's congested and well patrolled skies.
Before Denvik could question the meaning of the footage, Bode was already at his feet with his blasters drawn. Two quick shots to center of mass later and Denvik was dead, not a word uttered about Bode's apparent failure as the highly classified footage continued on the display between he and Denvik's corpse, whose lifeless hands was far too close to his panic button that would summon every sentry and security droid, every purge trooper, stormtrooper, and officer in the building to his command center within mere moments. Denvik's death had been perfectly timed for one other reason as well: the final screen of intelligence that flashed to life on the holoprojector—an active bounty in the sum of 1.5 million credits for the rogue Jedi, a known traitor and terrorist of the Galactic Empire, Bode Akuna.
Although he shouldn't have wasted the time, Bode quickly scanned over the information presented, feeling his lips turn up into a snarl at how impeccably accurate it was. A former Jedi spy, Akuna was wanted for acting directly against Emperor Palpatine's decree that any known whereabouts of surviving Jedi or Force-sensitive beings must be reported to local authorities promptly so that the threat can be dealt with according to Imperial procedure. It went on to say that his capture of Cal Kestis, followed by Bode's decision to release the terrorists into the hands of an unnamed benefactor, was in direct violation of multiple Imperial laws, including profiteering without permission of the Emperor.
However, the bounty hadn't gotten everything correct.
Amongst his crimes included failure to self-report a previous affiliation with the treasonous Jedi in exchange for amnesty with cooperation (something that he'd done when he agreed to act as Denvik's designated lackey), murder of Senator Deho Sejan (an interesting development given that he was breathing when Bode left Kestis in his custody), and allegations that Bode himself was responsible for constructing a team of six Force-sensitive beings that attempted—and failed—to liberate Kestis from the Jedi Temple. Naturally all of the damages incurred about the city and throughout the Temple as well as an impressively high number of Imperial casualties during the so-called attempted escape were included on his rap sheet as well.
Working for as long as he had as an underpaid bounty hunter under the banner of the Empire, Bode highly doubted that anybody privy to the information that was undoubtedly being published to bounty pucks in every sector across the Galaxy would believe that Kestis was actually one of the men beneath those black hoods. If the Empire still had the red-headed Jedi turned rebel in their captivity, they would have been certain that every soul controlled by the Empire bore witness as he lost his head, only for his expressionless and lifeless face to be hauled up by those recognizable red locks for all the Galaxy to see what happened to those who defied the Galactic Empire.
It took a minute for Bode to realize that he'd wasted far too much time lingering to read his crimes, time that he did not have. Denvik's office might have been well sealed and protected, accessible to only a handful of people on base under standard operating procedures, but Imperial surveillance was everywhere. Bode had just handed the Empire footage of Denvik's point-blank execution by his hand, one more crime to add to the list. This was no time to berate himself for his rash decisions, though, and attempting to find a way to cover up his misdeeds would be fruitless now that the Empire associated him with six Force wielding terrorists that were still somewhere out there in the Galaxy.
Rushing to the other side of the desk, he patted down Denvik's body for every credit, weapon, and credential he could find on the corpse. He then turned his attention to the man's desk, rapidly tearing through the drawers and cabinets until his pockets were as full as they were going to get. As an afterthought, he snatched up the portable holoprojector and tucked it in a utility pocket on his thigh. All of the Intel he needed would be embedded into the device and he would need all the help he could get in the coming days. Bode knew he had a handful of days at best before half the Galaxy realized that he could be their ticket to an easy life.
After he made sure there was nothing else that Denvik's sparse office had to offer for him, Bode ran down the corridor that led to the officer's quarters. When he stepped inside the surprisingly homey space for an Imperial base stationed on an icy asteroid, he found his daughter, Kata, sitting in her hammock and looking out at the stars. She was singing quietly, a tune that was sad and mournful, although Bode often called it a lullaby on the rare occasions that he got to sing her to sleep.
Hearing his daughter sing the song to herself, it caused the ache that long lived in his chest to thrum even stronger than before in the face of the fight currently stretched out before him.
Now wasn't the time to think about it.
"Hey sweetie." He said, scooping her up into his arms and grabbing her backpack that felt suspiciously empty despite his repeated warnings to her to always have it packed just in case. "I know that I said daddy would be busy tonight but there's been a change in plan. How do you feel about going on a trip?"
Kata smiled widely, an expression he wished he could return. "Okay! I just need—"
"We'll get it somewhere on the way, yeah?" He cut her off, wasting no time before leaving behind their generous quarters and what little stability and safety it offered.
"But Papa! My Mookie doll!" She cried, squirming in his arms.
Bode didn't pause as he strode quickly down the corridor that would provide the quickest route to the landing pads and his borrowed X-Wing with a newly installed Imperial transponder that allowed him to portray the role of both friend and foe to Imperial and rebel alike.
"Mookie!" Kata yelled again, tears springing to her eyes.
Left with no choice, he clapped his hand over her mouth to silence her. There was no time for them, no time for collecting relics of the past whether it be Kata's Mookie doll or the only image of his dearly departed Tayala he had left in the Galaxy. If Bode was going to hold onto the last thing precious to him after the Empire had robbed him of so much, his only option was to run and run now. As he ran through the corridors, each nearly identical to the other by design, his mind was already racing with possibilities.
Cal Kestis and those sorry bastards that freed him were still out there, somewhere in the Galaxy, their choice of refuge obviously sufficient enough to allow the Empire to successfully pull off their celebrated execution. All he needed to do was find just one of them, break them, and not only would he have Kestis but he'd have an entire team of brazen Imperial terrorists. It wouldn't ever be enough to save his neck with the Emperor but greedy Imperials like Denvik were a dime a dozen and Bode knew the kinds of places that men like him frequented. If he was going to live life on the run, he decided he could put that travel to good use by hunting down Kestis and his five friends that helped him escape the executioner's axe.
Although some might have been daunted by the litany of allegations he was facing, Bode began to think of his new situation like any other job he'd taken on in the past, except he already had the upper hand. The target was known to him, the list of buyers interested in his bounty would be plentiful, and his reward would be protection rendered by the Empire that nearly succeeded in rendering his kind extinct. A weaker man might have thought the odds of success impossible but Bode never played by the rules of the house.
It was just as he told Denvik: go all in on the underdog and you'll come out on top every time.
Bode would survive this.
Cal Kestis would not.
Just as Bode predicted, he had exactly one week before he was widely known as a marked man. Even on the most desolate of planets, his likeness could be found at every turn, whether it was plastered on one of many wanted posters or projected from a bounty puck. The images seemed to both terrify and mystify Kata, often leading her into a long line of questions, none of which he had the answers to. Bode wasn't sure when she'd reached the point that she could read so effortlessly or how he missed that she inherited her mother's unrelenting curiosity, but both of those discoveries were incredibly unwelcome, and did little to help his irritable mood.
The cramped confines of his X-Wing certainly didn't help, either.
Two weeks into his search for Cal Kestis, he crossed paths with a former colleague and full-time bounty hunter that quickly forgot they were friends. His buddy had always been a quick draw for a Trandoshan but Bode was always faster. After picking up some spare credits and a comlink off the Trandoshan's corpse, he plucked off the reptilian man's headphones as an afterthought.
Kata's questions came less frequently after that.
Relying on his training as a Jedi to fade into obscurity and his aggressiveness learned as an Imperial agent to rough a few guys up when they thought that they'd make some quick credits off of his body, Bode scoured the Galaxy for months, rarely taking any time to truly lie low. For every resource that remembered that Bode was an ally, ten knew that he was a trophy, but all of them had the same parting advice for him in his quest for Cal Kestis: forget about the Jedi and disappear before he's the next execution broadcast across the Galaxy.
The longer Bode searched for Kestis, the more he came to realize that his initial assumption that even the dumbest of Imperials would realize that Kestis lived was an incorrect theory; the brazen Jedi was already forgotten, old news in a Galaxy where a new enemy was named on a near-daily basis. One of the final allies that Bode dared to encounter, a bounty hunter by the name of Boba Fett, seemed to be the only other person in the Galaxy who arrived at the same conclusion—whether or not Fett realized Kestis survived before or after he encountered the Jedi on an outer rim planet called Koboh, Bode was not sure. Fett was cashing in on a different bounty at the time and decided to let sleeping dogs lie, a gross miscalculation in profit on the hunter's part, but it was the last time that anybody had heard or seen evidence that Kestis had indeed survived his date with destiny.
Time continued to pass, more fallen friends and enemies funding Bode's travels and fueling his hatred, even as Kata grew obnoxiously restless. Each time she asked when they were going to go home, he wanted to laugh and ask her what home, because the only place she'd called home since she was five was an ISB base. The only home she knew now was a modified jump seat meant to harbor an astromech. If he couldn't find his quarry, she'd be calling the raging seas of Nur home—something that might happen if he didn't find the bargaining chip that would buy him his freedom.
Bode also knew that his daughter deserved better.
Just over one year of searching for Cal Kestis turned up nothing except a planet heavily occupied by the Empire without any obvious resources to tap. With no leads, no hope, and a daughter that found herself on the wrong side of his temper too many times during his fruitless search, Bode decided it was time to settle down for a few months. Much of the outer rim remained untouched by the Empire, something he knew would not last forever, but all he needed was a little bit of time and a planet that allowed him the luxury of anonymity.
When he stopped on a planet called Lothal to fuel up and scout the surrounding system, he found that it could be a place to call home temporarily. There was an Imperial presence on the planet, although slight by comparison to many of the other planets he'd visited with Kata over the past year, but the Empire was obsessed with a growing rebel movement and named rebel suspects which all but promised Bode the anonymity he needed.
Kata was placated by the wide open fields, wild loth cats, and meals that consisted of more than tasteless protein paste and expired ration bars. Most days, she seemed content to keep herself busy with her datapad, those damned headphones he'd taken off his long-dead Trandoshan friend turned up so blasted loud that Bode could barely hear himself think. She rarely said anything to him or acknowledged his presence.
Bode started to wonder if he lost his little girl in his crusade to find Cal Kestis.
With nothing but time on his hands and a daughter who seemed to want nothing to do with him, Bode returned to obsessing over his mission to find the man who cost him everything. As the weeks and months began to blur together, he started to realize that he'd been chasing one man across the Galaxy when there were five other suspects at large. He began sleeping less at night, using the abundance of Imperial access codes collected during his time with Denvik and the ISB to access the Empire's database for his comrades, yet another search that turned up nearly nothing.
One of the women, Bode vaguely recognized from the days of the Clone War, but the Imperial databanks listed her as deceased. Quinlan Vos, a man that Bode knew well from his time with the Jedi, was unaccounted for but searching for him would only prove to be frustrating. The woman shown on surveillance that appeared to wield the magick of the fallen Nightsisters, a woman who was seemingly quite close to Kestis, was no more than an image to Imperial intelligence—not really a surprise considering that the Nightsisters were allegedly wiped out before the end of the Clone War.
That left the man who seemed unremarkable until he wasn't on the surveillance footage, a man who looked to be in his early twenties at best, wielding a blaster until circumstances forced him to a proper Jedi's weapon of choice. The kid was clumsy with the thing but he obviously understood the mechanics of it, leading Bode to believe that he was likely no more than a youngling when he survived the purge, which meant if the kid could be located that he would be subdued easily.
And Bode had no doubts that he could be located.
Where four of his six marks might as well have died on the day the Empire declared it so, the kid and his Twi'lek traveling companion were everywhere, their appearances in Imperial surveillance increasing in frequency on a near weekly basis. The kid might not have had a name but the same couldn't be said for his little girlfriend, her clan markings tattooed on those pretty little green lekku for all of the Galaxy to see. While the Empire had difficulty tracking their ship, a rather benign looking Corellian light freighter, Bode knew that he wouldn't need a transponder ID or a signal to find his bounty.
As luck would have it, Hera Syndulla seemed to have a bad habit of picking up strays, new faces showing up in the files listed under her associates each time their crew struck another Imperial compound. Bode didn't fail to notice that where Hera went, her Jedi followed, and although the gifted pilot might not have realized it, her Jedi wasn't an asset—he was a liability.
It was a lesson that Bode would be all too happy to teach her.
After years of waiting to exact his revenge and to get his life back, Bode didn't just have a lead—he also had the bait. With purpose in his stride, he crossed the small, festering dwellings that he'd reluctantly come to accept as home while he continued his search for Cal Kestis on the ground. He plucked the headphones from Kata's head without warning, earning a patently preteen glare from his daughter, her lips pressed into a thin scowl as she silently waited for an explanation.
Bode smiled, a warm and genuine smile—perhaps his first since their hurried escape from Nova Garon—and he felt his heart swell in his chest. They would have safety again and a better life than this musty and moldy excuse for a house in the middle of nowhere. He knelt in front of his daughter and put his hands over hers.
"I did it, Kata. I found the bad people."
Kata tilted her head, curiosity obviously piqued. "Does that mean you're going to go catch them now?"
"I am." He nodded and gave a gentle squeeze of her hand. "But I need your help to do it."