By Starfire
Disclaimer: I don’t own Boba Fett, or any other star wars terminology, or anything else like that. They all belong to Lucas Films.
Ammuud had never been a terribly exciting planet. In fact its history wasn’t even taught in the Imperial teaching facilities on world. It had never been an exciting world, though its rulers always held up the fact that it had never had a problem with the less savory elements of the galaxy. And of course its crime rate had always been very low. Until recently of course.
Boba Fett slid off the Slave 1’s engine compartment where he had spent the past four hours attempting to create miracles with a hydrospanner. The Slave 1 was old, far older than its current owner’s twenty years. Fett wiped the sweat from his face as he gathered his tools, neatly stowing them in a small compartment with the military efficiency he had learned from his father.
His credit accounts were dangerously low, again. Despite his skills he still lacked what would make him the galaxy’s best: experience and age. His youth and his small, though growing, reputation only brought him the lesser hunts.
Fett settled into the pilot’s seat, reviewing the information he had gathered on the merchandise he was currently pursuing. His current job was a Jedi. Jedi Knight Narrisa, who had fought on Geonosis, was one of a dwindling number of rogue Jedi.
Lord Vader, the Emperor’s somewhat rabid servant had been paying the bounty hunters of the galaxy well during the past decade to hunt down the Jedi. This was perfectly acceptable to Fett, of course. The galaxy would be better off without the Jedi.
The flashing chronometer in the corner of the monitor reminded him unnecessarily that the Jedi was scheduled to arrive shortly. Fett took the helmet resting on the shelf above him. For a moment he paused, peering into its T-shaped visor, and he was back on a dusty battlefield gazing into a similar empty helmet.
He shook himself before jamming the helmet onto his head. Fett slammed his fist onto the door control, barely slowing for it to open before striding down, out of the Slave 1.
The city was unusually quiet, heat waves rolling across the empty streets. Fett walked purposefully down the dirty, grime coated alleys, ignoring the pale eyes watching him, carefully recording his armor, hoping someone would pay for news of his whereabouts. The light of the sinking sun reflected off his Mandelorian armor as he turned sharply into one of the planet’s seedier cantinas.
An unlikely picture of an elegantly dressed tauntaun performing Jizz music marked the “Wailing Tauntaun.” The dilapidated sign swung slowly back and forth in the dying breeze.
The cantina certainly was not known for its atmosphere, but its proprietor was rumored to have had a Jedi son and retained a sympathy for them. He stood behind the bar now, slowly wiping off a row of glasses, his grizzled hair and haunted eyes marking him as one of those who had not benefited by the change of leadership in the galaxy.
The old man glanced up as Fett entered before returning to his task. If the Jedi were going to come to Ammuud this would be the place. The man set down the last glass with shaking hands.
“What- what can I get ya?” He eyed Fett uneasily, taking in the already battered armor. He was still unsure how Fett who was obviously a bounty hunter, could possible choose the drink he invariably did, despite the fact that this was at least Fett’s fourth visit.
The bartender cringed slightly under Fett’s gaze retreating for a few moments before returning to set a glass of water in front of Fett moments later. Fett had been forced to explain to one of the other patrons that the fact that he drank water in no way inhibited his talents as a bounty hunter.
He had never seen the point in dulling his reactions and mind with chemicals of any sort. As the ice melted in the drink in front of him he observed the other patrons.
By the time the ice was half gone the woman he had been waiting for arrived. Narrisa looked younger than her fifty years. Her graying hair had been cut short as fit the identity of a traveling performer she had adopted.
She slid onto the stool beside Fett, the only one remaining at the bar at this hour. She nodded to him before turning to converse with the bartender. Several of the other sentients shifted as if to warn her away, but one glance at Fett’s weaponry deterred them.
“Are you looking for work?” Fett turned toward her, attempting what he hoped was a light tone.
“Possibly…” her bright green eyes made a careful check of his weapons as she replied.
Fett turned behind him to move his drink. As he did so he shifted his small blaster so it rested across his knees, the end just touching Narrisa’s stomach. Her eyes widened slightly and her hand slid down, touching the smooth muzzle of the blaster.
Narrisa drew a sharp breath, her voice too low for any but Fett to hear, “I could take that from you easily.”
Her eyes remained as calm as her face, but the slight trembling of her fingers on the bar betrayed her fear. Fett shook his head almost imperceptibly, his voice as low as hers.
“Here? Revealing yourself to be a Jedi before them? It would bring you the same fate you’ll get from me, maybe worse.” Fett’s voice betrayed his scorn, he had expected better of her, even as a Jedi.
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, “I will do the best a mere Jedi can to improve.” The last was spoken so softly, Fett almost didn’t hear it.
Her voice was louder now, “Let’s go see about that job. It had better include comfortable accommodations.” This time the smile did reach her eyes. Her ability to joke in the face of the T-shaped helmet impressed Fett.
She rose slowly as Fett stepped behind her, holding his small blaster carefully. Few of the other patrons bothered to look at them, though a Devaronian in a shadowed corner eyed them shrewdly.
Outside the smoke-filled confines of the “Wailing Tauntaun”, night had darkened the spaceport’s streets. The lives of the rest of the population had begun. Shadowed shapes crowded the streets and alleyways. They came in a variety of sizes and forms. The dimly lit streets were surprisingly busy. Fett kept Narrisa’s blue robed form ahead of him, as he scanned the other pedestrians they passed.
The only warning he had as they turned into the last alley way was a sharp intake of breath before Narrisa’s foot swung up slamming into the wrist of the hand holding the blaster. It contacted with a sickening snap as Fett’s blaster fell to the ground. She called it to her with the Force as he drew another weapon from his belt.
A line of blaster bolts stabbed the ground in front of his feet. Fett lunged to one side as he ripped what he had been searching for from his belt. Shattered brick from the now damaged wall clattered onto Fett’s back. He came up with his gun leveled.
The dart caught her in the shoulder causing her to stagger. Narrisa forced the blaster up, scattering a spurt of wild shots, one of which grazed Fett’s chest plate. It left a long scorch mark as the blaster fell from her nerveless fingers.
Fett pulled himself stiffly to his feet. His arm hung limply at his side as he stood over her crumpled form. Her green eyes watched him defiantly despite the fear that lurked there as well.
“Don’t worry.” He knelt beside her, to bind her arms awkwardly. Shifting to hold his useless arm close to his side, Fett pulled the ropes tight with one hand.
“You must be alive and undamaged when you’re brought in. It will wear off.” He nearly stumbled, but he caught himself. This at least was something to be proud of.
He gripped her bound wrists, lifting her off the ground, half-carrying, half-dragging her to the Slave 1, gritting his teeth against the pain from his broken wrist. It was not one of the more impressive moments of his career thus far. Fett was grateful there were no witnesses besides the Jedi and that the Slave 1 was not far away.