The Star-Bitch: "Wasteland Warrior"

Then again... the job was done. The contract fulfilled. Their business concluded, as the Proctor said.

Now it was personal. He would have to answer for what he'd done. Done to countless other people... but most of all, to her. For what he put her through on that Hell world. What he made her do. What he made her almost become, herself. He was a monster who made monsters. And he needed to be stopped.

Vonda even briefly considered alerting the Unity, but their authority didn't stretch far into the Gallatin Division, and the rich and powerful had a way of avoiding official channels of justice. No, she was going to have to handle this in her own, unique style.

.

.

.

When Kanan came to, he was blinded by the light of three blazing hot suns.

Shielding his eyes, he sat up to find himself on a sandy dune, drenched in sweat. Looking around groggily in his confusion, he spied an equipment crate nearby. He crawled over to it and opened it.

Inside, he found some kind of laser tool, a commcard and two dozen bottles of water.

"What the Hell is going on...?" He muttered into the hot, stifling air. He tried to recall his last conscious thoughts. He was in his office, working on his desk screen, reviewing some new corporate-drafted legislation he was supposed to support. He'd... Heard a commotion outside his office... Zorn, his bodyguard... Kanan recalled seeing him come crashing through his office's front bay window... Followed by....

"Star-Bitch!" Kanan spat at the sudden recollection... But where the Hell was he?

As if on cue, the commcard bleeped at him. Frantically, he fumbled for it and activated it.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" He pleaded desperately, "I've been stranded by some crazy bitch on a planet... Three suns, desert... uninhab... Oh, no..."

It suddenly dawned on Kanan where Vonda had left him. Calibrax. He'd never visited it in person, but he knew its description. And he knew, now, Vonda's intent.

"Hello, Kanan," came Vonda's voice from the commcard. He looked down to see the bounty hunter's holographic face in the prerecorded message that was playing back.

"I thought you might want to see what it's like yourself," Vonda quipped, "you seemed pretty stressed, figured you could stand to get away from it all for a while."

"I'll fucking have you flayed and tortured you-" Kanan spat impotently at the device.

"But I'm gonna make it easy on you. Easier than it was on me or any of your previous victims," Vonda sneered.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!!!" Kanan screeched, strangling the commcard as if it was Vonda's neck.

"Now, I figure the next ship due to pass this way is a freighter that'll be swinging through the system in about... Oh, two months," Vonda informed him.

"Two months?!" Kanan bleated hysterically.

"You can find shelter, about 10 kiltrons away, I'll let you guess which direction," Vonda continued, "which I'd strongly recommend seeing as how you're coming up on Calibrax's summer. And the water should last you a good couple of weeks, if you make it stretch. After that, well... I hope you like the taste of your own piss! Something tells me that you do."

"What the fuck am I supposed to EAT, you fucking WHORE?!" Kanan screamed as if she could hear him.

"What's that? Oh, right, what about food, right?" Vonda smirked, "well, I imagine you've found the little laser cutter I left you. Go on, get it out, I'll wait."

Kanan rummaged around in the crate and pulled out the laser cutter, looking it over with seething incomprehension.

"Now as I see it, you have two choices," Vonda stated matter-of-factly, "A: you can starve to death. But I know you have way too much to live for, being so important and all. And all that wealth and power, you can't let that go to waste, can you? What would the poor old Galaxy do without Proctor Kanan? So you can choose option B: use that laser cutter I generously loaned you to cut off little bits and pieces of yourself - you know, bits nobody would miss. Like that shriveled up little pecker of yours, for instance. Then... eat them."

"Are you insane?! You can't make me-" Kanan practically foamed at the mouth, the heat and dehydration making him dizzy.

"Don't worry, the laser will cauterize and sterilize your cuts," Vonda advised helpfully, "If you pace yourself, you might even still have an arm and a couple of fingers left by the time that freighter comes by,"

"No no no no no No NO!!!" Kanan gripped the laser cutter and began rocking back and forth.

"Bon appetit, asshole," Vonda cheerily flipped him the finger, "I'm betting you taste like chicken!"

The commcard shut off and Kanan collapsed into a quivering, blubbering mess.

But, true to his wishes, he never did see the Star-Bitch ever again.