The cracking sound of metal colliding on metal just over the next dune sent Boba Fett's auditory sensors in a furry of analysis on the internal screen of his helmet. Of course, he could guess without the sensors it was Zara's swoop bike that was responsible for at least half the noise. The base of his skull tingled painfully. Fett steered his own bike over the crest of the sand-hill and dismounted it, guiding it down the steep terrain by its handlebars as his boots sunk ankle-deep into the sand.
"Zara," he called. His voice was steady and controlled; the result of over thirty years of stolid training in the face of crisis.
A girl with hair the color of the sand was propping her body off the ground with one arm as her other hand touched her shoulder gingerly. She appeared intact and Fett's pulse slowed. There was another swoop bike besides Zara's spun out on the sand, with a burly man pinned beneath it a few meters away.
Fett knelt beside the girl and quickly inspected her for other injury. Her honey, brown eyes tracked the movements of his hands which reassured him. Sand stuck to her deeply tanned face and blemished her smooth neck. A stranger might have placed her age at seventeen or eighteen, but Fett knew she was still a child.
"Ohh, that bantha turd… why didn't he hear me coming!" she raged as she brushed the sand off her loose tunic. She accepted Fett's gloved hand as he hoisted her up to her feet. Her knees buckled momentarily, but Zara seemed to find her balance after Fett gave her a moment to lean against his armored forearm.
"You were going too fast," he said in the strange, soft, monotone accent that filtered through his helmet.
Zara was obviously recovered enough to roll her eyes. Fett had been yelling at her to slow down just before the wreck, though it was as unanticipated by himself as it was surprising to Zara.
"Hurt," Fett asked.
"My shoulder kinda hurts, but I'll be ok once you blast that guy."
"You hit him," he reminded her.
Zara snorted and tore away from Fett's steadying arms. She stumbled a little down the dune as Fett watched her with his helmet cocked ever so slightly to the side, looking almost amused now that the danger of injury had clearly passed. "Careful," he warned himself, straightening up as he followed. "Do not indulge her."
"Ruined your swoop bike," he spoke aloud to her back as she bent over the collapsed thug. A soft red stain bled into the sand near his tangled brown hair. His face was covered in oozing sores, but that was just unfortunate and probably not the result of the crash.
"Well this guy can pay for it. It's his fault."
Fett focused on the man again. Zara prodded his limp foot. The thug stirred slightly at the touch. Fett aimed his wrist dart loaded with a soporific solution and fired. A strand of Zara's hair swept across her face from the turbulence of the dart as it moved across her shoulder and sank into the skin of the man's neck.
"Bounty."
"Really?!" Zara squealed, looking up, over her shoulder at Fett. She clapped her hands in delight and smiled in a fashion that was almost boyish; her teeth a dazzling white against her burnished skin. She was strikingly and very unusually pretty. This was a fact that Fett would never admit as the girl was already too vain.
"I believe he's yours."
"You sedated him."
"You took him out. Jabba posted the bounty two weeks ago for embezzlement apparently."
"Ah."
"You will take the bounty in to Jabba to collect."
"Me?!" Zara exclaimed, jabbing her finger quite hard into her breast-bone. She stood up and stared at Fett directly into the visor slit of his helmet without the usual coquettish hint of play with her eyelashes. "You've never let me go there before," she said suspiciously.
Fett shrugged and trudged up the slope of the dune to his hovering bike. He dragged it all the way down and positioned it next to the wreckage of the bounty's bike. Bracing himself with one leg, Fett pushed the bike off the bounty. It rolled away and settled in the sand with a muffled noise. The bounty hunter lifted the bulky body over the seat of his own bike so the bounty's gut rested across the seat sideways while his fingertips and boots brushed against the sand.
"Come on. Jabba's palace is east of here," Fett called to Zara as he began to push the bike up the dune. When he reached the crest, he gave the handlebars over to her to push. She strained and got the bike moving down the next crest. They continued on in this manner, Fett pushing uphill, Zara skipping down with the bike downhill across the dune sea. It was a several hours-long walk to Jabba's palace. They would reach it just as the second sun sank into the wide horizon.
The citizens of Jabba's home were delighted to see Fett and almost more delighted to see Zara. They were ushered in through the front gates by the Bib Fortuna, who bowed several times in his usual obsequious manner. The porcine guards at the doors stood back respectfully from Fett and kept silent instead of grunting aggressively as was their usual habit. Zara took it all in with curious, wide eyes as she peered down the extensive network of tunnels. Fett was forced to occasionally grab her elbow and guide her a little quicker down the main entrance. He had taught her well enough so that she remained silent despite the nasty, dank appearance of the place and the intimidating look of the guards or the truly frightening appearance of the spider gatekeeper.
Jabba's receiving room was as crazy as ever. Girls danced before the enormous worm. Musicians jammed in the corner. Encircling the room stood the more solemn guests who leaned against the dark, clay walls; scowling at the proceedings. This was the fringe Boba Fett preferred to inhabit.
Zara kept tripping up his legs as she leant closer to him. One arm of his was balancing the sleeping thug across his shoulder. The other he used to push Zara before him. He gave her a final shove once the room noticed their presence and fell silent in deferment.
Fett dropped the bounty beside Zara's feet and slunk off to the wall. She made a move as if to follow him back, but realized she was left alone in the center of the room before Jabba's pallet. The worm slobbered across his drooping lips with his equally wormish tongue.
"What…is…this?" he chuckled, slowly eying Zara before shifting his attention to Fett. The bounty hunter crossed his arms over his rifle.
Zara did not speak for a moment. "My name is Zarabeth, the water-seller's daughter," she said at length. Her tone bordered on the rude. She mimicked a wide-legged stance with her hand on her hip that was not unlike a pose Fett often assumed.
"The water-seller's daughter?" Jabba the Hutt said in his croaking voice. He looked at her with more interest. Water, of course, was a commodity on Tatooine. Many of the inhabitants were moisture farmers, gathering what little water could be squeezed out of the dry air to sell for good money. But while there were thousands of moisture farmers on the planet, there was really only one water-seller. The patriarch of an ancient Tatooine family whose compound was built around a series of springs that flowed out of the sand with abandon. The water-sellers had guarded their springs for centuries and carefully sold and distributed the precious water as the major suppliers on the planet. Zara's tone perhaps reflected her disgust at not being recognized.
"Excuse me, little one. I did not know," Jabba laughed, though his voice was a little less booming than before. Jabba got his water from Zara's family same as the majority of the residents on Tatooine.
"I've brought a bounty and I've come to collect," Zara said and nudged the collapsed thug with the toe of her boot. She dripped with arrogance. Fett noted that her vanity made her enjoy being the center of attention in the palace, where only moments before when she wasn't noticed, her fear caused her to cower against him.
"Ah, yes. Zooder, the fool. Did…Boba Fett catch him for you?"
"No. I smashed into him on my swoop bike this morning."
The room burst into laughter. They liked the arrogant, little water-princess who flicked her golden hair over her shoulder while ignoring the outburst. Fett was pleased with the outcome thus far. Yes, it had been time to introduce her to Jabba and let the creature know who would be inheriting the water-seller's title soon. Zara glanced back at the bounty hunter, as if to ask, "How am I doing?" which she punctuated with a little smile.
Fett twitched his helmet in the direction of Jabba. She snapped to attention again.
"Very well, daughter of the water-seller. The bounty is yours." Jabba called over Bib Fortuna, who brought the coffers box, half-filled with credits. He counted the money into Zara's open hand, eying her with suspicious intent. Zara sneered ever so slightly at the appearance of the Tw'ileks greedy, sharpened teeth. She tucked the sum into a pocket of her leggings and nodded at Jabba with considerable condescension. The worm laughed deeply.
"You are quite sure of your place in this world aren't you?"
"On this planet, I'm as good as the queen."
"Indeed, but perhaps more of a princess. Please, keep me company tonight," said Jabba. The tw'ilek rested his thin hand on Zara's back and guided her to the raised platform. She hesitated, then lifted her chin a little higher and kneeled on the stone beside Jabba's stumpy, right hand.
Boba Fett did not like this. As soon as the music resumed and the revelers seemed to forget the previous excitement, he made his way over to Zara and Jabba along the shadowed wall. He stalked through the heavy curtains hanging behind Jabba, who was chatting with Zara and trying to touch her hair.
"Watch it worm-trash," Fett said just behind the worms bulk. Only Jabba seemed to hear. His distraction allowed Zara to slip away and disappear into the crowd.
"I was wondering when you'd step in, Fett. Such a pretty girl, almost beautiful. She'd be a jewel in my palace. But I suppose you wouldn't allow it."
"I wouldn't."
"What are you, the girl's guard?"
"Tutor.
"Ah, yes, preparing the girl to take over the family business then. I heard the water-seller was unfortunate to have only sired daughters."
"More or less."
"Perhaps her future husband will be an adequate manager?"
"Not my business or concern."
"You must be getting old Fett to take on this job. This would have been considered beneath you when you first got into the business."
It was hard for Boba Fett to refute this. If the water-seller had asked him to care for and teach his daughter some twenty-odd years ago, he would have refused whatever the price. The point back then had been to establish his reputation as the finest bounty hunter in the galaxy, and earn his fees to equip Slave I with the best weapons and defense systems. There was nothing to be gained by teaching little girls to ride and repair their swoop bike or how to address Jabba the Hutt in his palace. In terms of battle experience, he gained nothing by teaching Zara to pilot starships or hound her to study her republic history. But…he was getting old, and his reputation was already extremely well-established, even his bank accounts did not require additional sums to satisfy. So when the water-seller had presented a 10 year old Zara to the bounty hunter after his work helping the merchant to guard the water transport vessels to the distribution points, he considered the request where he may have long before walked away without dignifying it with a response.
Teaching was something his father had excelled at. Jango had been wonderful at training the clone troops and training Boba himself in his childhood. Maybe his age had made him feel nostalgic; made him miss his father a little, and caused him to accept the wild ward that was Zara.
Ill-behaved, restless, and very spoiled. Fett watched her from across the room swallow a yellow drink she had snatched from the stubby hands of a hairy, impish sort of creature. If he were a more verbal man he might have sighed, knowing that was obviously not the first time she had quaffed such a hallucinogenic substance in her life by the look of the ease that the bitter drink went down. She eyed the empty glass and shoved it back into the imp's open hand. The little creature sputtered, but Zara placated him with a small laugh and caress of his wispy beard.
"She seems delightful," Jabba said to Fett, chuckling, everything was such an amusement to the worm. The bounty hunter would have liked to escort her out, but that would seem rude and make her appear too protected and weak. These scum needed to learn from whom their water would soon depend on. "Is she yours?"
Boba Fett hated this question most of all.
"She is sixteen," he answered flatly.
"That's when they are the tastiest." Jabba licked his lips slowly for Fett's benefit.
It was inevitable really, to pair a man with a young woman if they spent large amounts of time together. But it was a line he would not cross. Despite Fett's frightening reputation, he was something of a law abider. And if the law wasn't present, as there wasn't on Tatooine where age of consent was a foreign off-world concept, well…he simply followed what he knew to be right anyway. Taking advantage of young, susceptible girls was something he did not wish to engage in. Besides, she was his student, it would be wrong to be in a position of authority as her teacher and proposition her. Or, to be more accurate, it would be wrong to accept her advances.
"She is not to my tastes," Fett answered truthfully.
"I think she's to mine."
Fett stepped down from the platform without responding and shoved miscreants out of the way. He adjusted his rifled hanging off his shoulder as he approached Zara. A young pilot type, humanoid, was chatting to her and refilling her glass. She giggled into her hand and gazed up at the young man becomingly.
"Her sisters must have taught her that," Fett thought to himself. If it was his job to make sure she was capable of running a business on a dangerous planet, then it was her six older sisters' job to make sure she knew how to attract and entertain men. Preferably rich, older men. It would have been nice to have Xola here to scold Zara for fraternizing with what was obviously a penniless, and therefore useless man, but Fett did not presently have that luxury.
He marched up behind her back and stood menacingly. Her attention was caught immediately.
"Bobaaaaa!" she trilled, very drunk.
"Let's go," he said, gripping her shoulder.
"Oww!"
He lightened his grip and dropped his hand to her waist. The pilot had disappeared at the point. A distinct circle of space had opened around them. No one in the room wished to argue with the bounty hunter. No beautiful heiress was worth that.
"What's wrong with your shoulder?" Fett asked loudly to be heard over the bopping music in the hall.
"I dunno, hurts."
"Follow me."
He led her out of the room and up the stairs to the gallery. Down a few twisting halls they stopped at a wooden door held together with banded steel. Fett ungloved his hand and laid it on the door knob. The lock clicked open after sensing his unique, bio-signature.
"I didn't know you had a room here," Zara said as she swayed against his arms before shuffling through the door which Fett closed behind them.
"I've worked for Jabba for years. Comes in handy."
The room was sparse. There was only a chair, table and small sink present besides the bed. A hole cut into the rock wall opened the room to the desert night air. There was no glass to keep the heavy sand smells from penetrating the room.
Zara flopped down on the cleanly made bed. The impact on the hard pallet made her gasp and cradle her shoulder for a moment. She rolled over to relieve the pressure. Fett stood watching her for a moment until her body relaxed again.
He sat down on the chair and pulled off his other glove, resting both on his thigh. He clicked a button on his helmet and removed it from his head. He wiped his sweaty face on the sleeve of his jumpsuit.
Zara sat up, rubbing her shoulder. She was watching him with some pride, he could tell. After all, she was privy to the secret of his identity while all the other monsters and fiends downstairs were clueless, including the great Jabba the Hutt himself.
He was not a particularly handsome man, being too dark featured and too old to be considered anything physically special. Five years earlier, when Fett had first revealed himself to Zara, the child had seemed terribly disappointed that he wasn't some prince in disguise.
No, he was old. Almost forty, which seemed ancient to Zara's youth. He knew at best he could be complimented for having a craggy sort of face which might be mistaken for handsome at a certain angle, but really he was just a homely old man whose business had literally never depended on his human features.
He stood up, unsheathing parts of his armor as he went, and sat down beside Zara. He probed her shoulder again with his strong hands. There was a large, red lump swelling just off her neck. He pushed down on it.
"Oww! Stop!" Zara growled and slapped at his arm until he stopped.
"Collar bone's broken."
"Ugh. It hurt all day. Just hurry up and push it back," Zara slurred, defeated. She had lived with him for long enough to know his rough nursing techniques.
"This is going to hurt," he warned, already bracing himself against her shoulder.
"I know," she answered and pinched the collar of her tunic between her teeth.
Boba Fett leaned down on her broken collar bone with all the force he could muster. Zara garbled curses into the damp cloth of her tunic. Tears streamed down her face through the 10-second procedure until Fett felt the bone drop a fraction of an inch back into place. He eased off and caught her with one arm before she keeled over on the bed. Zara sobbed once and swallowed the second. She huddled against Fett's chest and whimpered. He did not bring his second arm around to comfort her in a full embrace. After a while, Zara calmed as the pain subsided.
"You should go to sleep."
She moaned. "There's no chance of that. It hurts really bad, Boba."
"You'll feel better tomorrow."
"Where are you going to sleep?" she sniffled.
"I'll sleep in the chair, you take the bed."
"You can't sleep sitting up."
"I can."
He moved to stand up from the bed, but Zara clung to him. He patted her back and peeled her unaffected hand from his neck.
"I don't want to catch you drinking any synth drinks any more," he said, quite serious. Zara rubbed her eyes.
"I think this would have hurt a lot more if I hadn't."
"Zara."
"What else should I do in Jabba's palace?" she said as she touched her swollen shoulder. If they had been somewhere off-world, Boba Fett would have gotten her some ice to put on the break. But that was really not a reasonable thing on Tatooine.
"Behave."
Zara looked petulant. She bent over and pulled off her knee high boots with some effort. The leggings came off next, leaving her tan legs exposed, though the tunic provided some modesty. She wouldn't look Fett in the eye. He caught her cheek up in the palm of hand and forced her to look up at him. Sometimes it was best to just shame her with his black eyes. She sniffed dramatically.
Boba Fett resumed his place on the chair, crossed his arms and rested his chin down against his chest. He mumbled an order which caused the lights to switch off in the room. Zara curled up in bed with the moonlight across her. The air was already quite chilly from the desert night. It soothed Fett into an unusually easy sleep.
*********************************************************************
They arrived back at the compound early the next morning; the speed of Fett's swoop bike carrying them both through the monstrous gates made of red stone. They dismounted the bike in the courtyard and Fett shut off the engine which ceased the roaring echoes of the machine against the surrounding buildings. In the center of the yard stood a clay fountain from which a few simple streams of water poured into the basin. Zara bent over the fountain and drank the water directly from the pouring stream. Fett unmasked himself and scooped the clean, cold water into his hand and drank deeply. The suns were already making the orange, clay rim unbearable to touch, scorching Fett's fingers as he leaned over to drink.
As he splashed the refreshing water on his burning face and on the back of his neck, the water-seller descended the open stairs that were built against the wall of the south-house.
"Greetings!" he called. Ybyth hastily tucked in his shirt as he crossed across the yard. Zara's pressed her lips into a tight white line. She and Fett watched her father from through the fountain's waters. "Good morning! Good morning! Please, guests, drink! There's plenty for us all," the water-seller called to them cheerfully as he approached.
"Ybyth, it is just Zara and Boba Fett," said Fett. He tucked his helmet beneath his arm and displayed it prominently. Zara remained silent and seemed on the point of walking away.
"Zara? My dear wife?"
"Your daughter, Ybyth."
Zara turned around and walked away towards a dark open-doorway in the northern-house, ducking beneath the hanging brown cloth that covered the shaded entrance. Fett did not exactly blame her, though it was rude and he would be forced to speak to her about it later.
"Where is she going?" Ybyth asked, looking up at Fett with a childish grin that was beginning to turn faintly sour, as even confused old men could sense a slight.
"She is just going to take a bath. She broke her collar-bone yesterday."
"Yes, yes, a bath will do her good. Our water is really the best. Something about the land-forms near here. The rock lends the water with good taste and healing properties. Very good for arthritis…" Ybyth babbled, continuing even as Fett guided him back up the stairs where a woman not much younger that Fett was waiting to gather the old man in her arms.
"Daddy, " said Xola. "Come here Daddy, we can go over the accounts now if you'd like." She led him inside to his room, leaving Fett standing on the dusty stairs in the beating sun. Xola's hair was a deeper burnt umber compared to Zara's sandy gold. Her waist was a little stouter from years of bearing children for her now deceased husband, but the same almost boyish resemblance to Zara was apparent. She guided the frail, old man back further into the room to a sagging chair where she helped him to sit.
The suns were burning the back of Fett's neck as he stood in the open doorway watching the father and daughter. Xola kissed Ybyth's forehead and patted him on the shoulder. She made as if to approach the desk on which several account books were laid, but hesitated and moved towards Fett instead. He made room for her to pass through the door past him. They descended the stairs together, speaking quietly.
"I'm sorry, he snuck off while I was checking the books."
"He didn't recognize Zara, thought she was your mother," said Fett. He followed Xola to the fountain where she sat on the clay ledge before leaping up as if burned. She shaded her eyes against the suns and frowned.
"Mmm, yes, it seems to be happening more lately."
"So sudden? He knew who she was yesterday."
"He's old, what can I say? It's as heartbreaking for me as it is for Zara." Fett wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his glove. "Speaking of yesterday, where did you two disappear to?" Xola asked. "I would have been worried if I didn't know you were with her."
"Bounty showed up unexpectedly. Had to make a detour to Jabba's."
"Mmm. How much did you get?"
"I got nothing. Zara got 2500 credits."
"Well that might replace her swoop bike I'm not seeing," Xola said wryly, craning her head around to look for the missing transport in the courtyard. Fett nodded and almost smiled. "Did she do ok at Jabba's?"
"She did fine. No stranger to synth drinks though."
"Mmm."
"Her collarbone's broken."
"Fett, sometimes I have to really wonder if you're protecting her at all."
"I was hired to teach her to play this game," Fett answered casually as he turned on his heal and left Xola in the courtyard. "I wouldn't be needed if the game weren't a little rough."
"Mmm, true. Just try not to get the water-sellers heir killed, please."
"That's the goal," Fett answered without looking over his shoulder. He ducked beneath the same doorway that Zara had entered earlier and disappeared down the steep stairs that led further into the cooler sands of Tatooine. Xola remained by the fountain and stared at her worn, vein-tracked hands.
The air was cooler and far moister in the deep underground chambers. Fett followed the stairs down with one hand touching the wall to his right for guidance in the sudden dark that blinded his light-plagued eyes. He stopped in a hallway and removed his armor, pressing a glowing button in the wall that opened a small cupboard with a short hiss. Having deposited the helmet and armor plate inside, he shut the storage unit and walked through the doorway at the end of the hall.
The room was dim and simple, having been hewn out of the rock centuries ago and now lit with only a few artificial lights built into the stone. In the center was a sunken bath, filled with clear, running water; part of the extensive springs system the compound was built over. This was actually the smallest of the springs and thus could be spared for the family's bathing pleasure. It was a true oasis in the dark, wet room when compared to the unbearable heat of the outside desert.
Zara's back was turned towards Fett as she rested her chin against her crossed hands on the edge of the bath. She had wound her thick hair into a bun on her head. She looked much younger that she appeared outside or in Jabba's palace.
"Joining me, Boba?"
"I'm taking a bath," Fett responded, already pulling off the unbearably sweaty clothes from his body. Zara turned around, sinking to nose level in the water. She watched him, but the sight was not unusual. The family was water-rich, but not rich enough to have private baths. Bathing was a ritual.
Fett stepped into the icy water and felt only a wonderful, satiating sense of relief instead of any shock from the cold. He gracefully slipped into the water to his chest, before plunging his head. He emerged and rubbed his face and hair roughly, feeling instantly better after bearing many hours outside.
"You bathe so funny, Boba."
"How do I bathe," he asked in a condescending tone as he leaned back against the edge of the bath and let his head roll back lazily between his shoulders.
"Like a bantha would, if he ever saw water. You sort of wallow in it."
"Really."
"Yes," Zara said and kicked her feet against the bath-wall to propel herself through the water towards Fett. He rubbed his rough chin with a dripping hand as Zara floated towards him. She stopped a foot away and treaded the water that was just a tad too deep in this section for her to stand up in, though it was easy for Fett.
"You don't put any care into it."
Fett laughed almost imperceptibly.
"Almost every other habitable planet in this galaxy besides this one takes its water completely for granted. Bathing is not a sacred thing."
"It is here. You have to take your time and enjoy the feeling of cleaning your body," Zara answered. She rested her buoyant weight on Fett's knee and ran her good hand down her other smooth, little brown arm. She lifted a cupful of water in her hand and let it trickle down the back of her neck. She repeated the action several times, clearly enjoying the feeling as she closed her eyes and concentrated on it.
Fett watched her with his head tilted to the side.
"When I was boy, I lived on a planet that rained so much and so constantly that the world was flooded."
"Where was this?" Zara watched him intently.
"Kamino."
Fett ran his fingers through his hair that had grown just long enough around the ears to reveal his curls.
"You're hair is getting long."
"So it is."
She reached up to play with his hair and before long she began the process of washing his hair in the water. Fett obligingly sank lower to give her better access as she rubbed his head. She would have done the same for her sister had the woman been there. Fett grew so relaxed under Zara's pleasurable ministrations he nearly fell asleep, calm as one could be, floating in the water. He never felt like this anywhere but in the water-sellers baths. Not even the greatest pleasure-slaves of Coruscant could produce such relaxation as Zara could bring from simply rubbing his head.
"Boba?"
"Yes," he murmured after a moment to regain his senses.
"Will you always stay with me."
"Just until you are married."
"If you married me, I would rub your head every night in the bath. I would let you do other things as well," she whispered into his ear and held him close to her breast.
And that forced Fett to stand upright and pull away from her. Zara clung to his back so he dragged her through the water. She wrapped one leg around his waist and pulled herself flush against his scarred back, giggling.
"Zara…" he warned.
"I would be very sweet to you," she teased.
"Zara, no," he said sternly.
He tried to push her off his back but she moved easily through the water to wrap her arms around her neck and hold herself close against his body. It was really too much for Fett, but as he strained to push her off, he noticed her inflamed collarbone and worried that pushing her away harshly might hurt the injury more.
"Boba…" she mooned.
"No."
"But I'm pretty aren't I."
"I'm not having this conversation with you."
"Would you love me if I were just a little older," she said in her most weedling, silly voice.
"Not as long as you were my student," he said, utterly serious.
"Hmmm, but you like it here with me right now don't you," she said and rested her hand against the back of his head, looking up at him from beneath her water-logged lashes.
Fett looked down at her for a moment, caught up as he was by her embrace and soft voice. He knew he was hesitating, sending the wrong message. She looked so young and childish, he could see there was no truth in her looks or pleas, it was all just one great game to the girl. She smiled sweetly and he returned the look. The feeling of her soft skin against his own, and the strong grasp of her fingers against the back of his neck, it was all a little overwhelming for a man so rarely in such situations anymore.
"It is not…unpleasant to be with you," he answered without thinking and instantly regretted it. He looked up, over her head.
Zara grinned and pulled herself up high enough to peck him on the lips. He didn't even have time to pull back, and the action hardly startled him. It wasn't the first time she had childishly presented him with her lips.
"You're not a little girl anymore, you can't do that," he chided.
"I don't care, it's fun."
"Get out of here and go keep your father company," Fett said as he pushed her away. She finally let go and nimbly climbed out of the bath without the use of her bad shoulder. The water streamed down her naked body in thin rivulets. She touched her shoulder, winced, then grinned down at Fett who couldn't stop himself from staring up at her nubile self. Her figure seemed to improve daily, becoming more and more lean and strong with just a softening around the tummy, hips and breasts- all together making a woman whose body begged to be held.
But Boba Fett would not think these things. Or he would think them, and responsibly set them aside.
And then she was gone, leaving Fett to grimace at his reflection in the water. He cupped his hands together and splashed his face.
**********************************************************************
Fett rejoined the family in the main dining hall. He wore his simple grey jumpsuit, belted and without armor. Zara and her sister, Xola, were sitting at the right and left of their father at the head of the long table. Compound workers filled the rest of the benches down the table. They talked and gaffed amongst themselves while eating the simple food that Tatooine could provide. Fett slipped in next to Xola and helped himself to the bland but very satisfying gruel that was offered, seasoning it with a handful of herbs from a common bowl set between the water-seller and his daughters.
"Daddy, please eat," Xola said as she pushed her father's bowl closer to him. He smiled but did not pick up his fork. The elder sister sighed before looking up at the entrance of the hall. A servant had just come running into the room followed closely by an elder man with silver hair. "Oh no…it couldn't possibly be today could it?" Xola muttered.
Her tense voice alerted Fett to the disturbance. The entering man was wearing a thick coat, suggesting the amount of time he spent in mechanically cooled indoors. His beard was trim and his shoes made sharp tapping noises on the stone.
"Xola's problem," Fett thought to himself and returned to his food. The aforementioned sister had already abandoned her seat to usher the visitor to take her place. Ybyth looked at his hands and did not speak, somewhat overcome with shyness. The visitor sat down next to Fett and smiled grandly around the table.
"I really do apologize Georne. With this season's distribution just finished I've been trying to get our accounting in order before I return home to my family. It just completely slipped my mind which day you were coming."
"Please do not trouble yourself. This is just a friendly visit, I have owed the water-seller's family a visit for sometime now," Georne answered pleasantly. He threaded his fingers together and rested his chin on the platform they made.
"Georne, of course you know my father," Xola said, beginning the introduction as she stood behind Ybyth's chair. She softly rubbed the old man's shoulders who somewhat flinched at her touch. He appeared lost and confused.
"So good to see you, old friend," Georne said with great kindness. He politely did not push the older man any further than that.
"And to your left is our resident jack of all trades, Berne Fen, the foreman"
Fett nodded politely to Georne who returned the favor.
"And of course, across from you is my youngest sister, Zarabeth."
"You've grown so much since I last saw you, it's remarkable," said Georne. He smiled and reached across the table to pat Zara's hand. Zara, sensing something was up, pulled back her shoulders and lifted her chin a fraction of an inch. She assumed a somewhat detached facial expression and nodded curtly to Georne.
"Georne is here to see you in particular, Zara," Xola said, ever the direct woman.
Zara lifted her brows in mock surprise and gave a thin smile.
"I felt I had to see you again after I heard such marvelous stories about the water-seller's daughter a few weeks ago. You accompanied the water shipments I heard?" Georgne asked, attempting to start a conversation with the girl in front of him.
Zara waved her hand casually, "Oh that was nothing, I've been working with the men on that for years now. This was just the first time I've done it since my breasts really came in, which is no doubt why you've finally heard of me."
Xola choked on her food beside Fett on his left. For a second, he thought he might have to slap her on the back a few times but she regained control of herself.
"Don't be crude," Fett said, once he was reassured that Xola was not choking to death. Georne looked sideways at Fett. Zara shrugged and shoveled a spoonful of gruel into her mouth.
"It's true," she muttered. Georne laughed, causing Ybyth to join in.
"Well, I'll admit, I did hear of your beauty from these stories."
"Really?" Zara asked. She looked up from her food and smiled a little more warmly across the table. Georne, sensing his approach, went on.
"Yes, but they didn't mention just how gold your hair is. It's really quite remarkable."
"Ah, well, thank you," Zara said, flattered. She grinned and curled the end of her hair in one finger.
"She's by far the prettiest of all us sisters. We all agree on that," Xola said with sincerity.
"She's also the vainest of them all as well," Fett muttered. Xola kicked his foot beneath the table. Georne heard the comment and turned to face Fett, giving him his full attention for the first time.
"I'm sorry, Berne was it? Xola mentioned you are the foreman?"
Fett nodded and reached for more seasoning. He crushed the dried leaves in his palm and scattered them over the rest of his cooling food.
"How long have you been working here?"
Fett almost laughed at how quickly this fellow was already trying to get rid of him; surely planning his dismissal upon his marriage to Zara. If there was one thing Fett hated, it was to lose at any sort of battle, including wits.
"Five years."
"So you must have known Zara since she was quite young."
"She's still is, in my opinion. Very young."
"I am not!" Zara said, furious. She threw her fork at Fett who knocked it away carelessly on the floor.
"I've taken the girl under my wing, teaching her about the business and all. But she has a ways to go."
"I see. Well, I'm sure that training won't be necessary once she finds a suitable marriage partner. Someone, who can take the business over."
"That might be true, if there were a suitable marriage partner who was competent enough to run the water-selling." Fett shoveled another bite of gruel into his mouth. "But we have yet to meet such a person," he continued.
Georne flushed.
"It's rough work. The water pumps are always breaking. The swoop-bike gangs are always trying to steal the water en-route. We lose several men each year."
"I would have assumed this was your department, not the water-seller's."
"No, old Ybyth has accompanied the shipments himself every year except this one."
"He's right, we do always deliver the shipments ourselves," Zara interjected, eager to join the conversation. "When millions of credits of water are of concern, there's really no other choice."
Ybyth and Fett nodded in agreement. Georne cooled himself with a folded fan he produced from his waistcoat pocket.
"Really, I had no idea."
"It's not as bad as they're making it sound," Xola said and took a deep drink from her water glass. "We're not all about business here."
"That's true," Fett answered. "Zara, why don't you play your vibraharp for us. Show Georne we're not savages."
"Oh yes! I would love to hear you play," Georne said as he fanned himself faster. His face appeared genuinely happy to steer the conversation away from the business. It was Zara he was here to explicitly court after all.
"Umm, I dunno. I'm not very good."
"I'm sure you're lovely," said Georne. He reached across the table he squeezed her smooth hand. Zara chewed at the inside of her cheek.
"I'm not even sure if her harp is even here," Xola said in a rattled sort of manner.
"It's right over there in the corner, Xo," said Fett as he pointed the direction. The instrument was leaning up against the wall. Georne smiled expectantly. Zara quirked her mouth and stood up. She dragged the instrument over to a bench and began to tune it. Dust fell on her hands as she plucked the vibrating strings.
"Oh mercy," Xola said under her breath and rubbed her head as if she had a headache.
Zara hesitated, then began to play. For a few seconds, it sounded decent. But Fett knew he could neither place the tune, nor follow it. The notes quickly became jarring and confused, making even the soothing tones of the harp painful to listen to. Zara's face betrayed complete embarrassment. One of the workers had the audacity to throw a bread role at Zara, telling her to knock it off. She took this opportunity to throw down the instrument and grab the workers collar. She twisted the cloth in her hand and heaved his weight over her shoulder, smashing him down against the floor in a move Fett himself had taught her…for defence.
"What is she doing?!" asked Georne.
"Having a temper-tantrum," Fett answered coolly.
"Get him Zara!" Ybyth laughed, clapping his hands. Zara called for two other men to drag their unconscious comrade out of the room. She left soon after, appearing quite furious and arrogant.
"Xola?" Georne asked helplessly.
She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.
"Like I said, she's still very young."
Georne appeared to take Fett seriously for the first time. "She's not totally wild, is she?"
"No, she can sew and cook if that's what you mean. She's going to make a beautiful wife, I can promise you that," said Xola.
"Sew and cook?"
"Yes."
"I'm going to be honest with you Xola, I expected the water-seller's daughter to be a little less involved with the business. The other young women at Mos Eisley are very accomplished. They can play music and dance and that sort of thing, but no one expects them to do servants work."
"It's different here. It's a different business," Xola sighed into her drink.
********************************************************************
"That was a very nasty trick," said Xola. Fett was fixing a lose piece of metal on the underside of Slave I. He blinked up at her from beneath the carriage on his back, his tools paused in motion.
"I thought it only fair Georne understood Zara a little better." He continued with his work, presently fully armored and masked.
"That's not going to win her a rich husband." Xola squatted beside Fett.
"At least you're honest about it."
Xola fingered a welded bolt on the hull of the ship. "You haven't been looking at the accounts like I have. We've lost money for the past five seasons. Really, considerable amounts."
"Hmm."
"Fett, we can't guarantee the delivery on any shipment that isn't personally guarded by yourself. It's getting ridiculous. Every thug and gangster just lines up on the desert the day we make the rounds and we actually lost four out of the ten shipments we made this past time."
"That's true."
"A little cash influx would allow us to hire more guards, then we might be able to protect the water barges better."
"Everything you say is true, but I still think she is too young to be married."
Fett twisted the last screw in and quickly torched the work with his welder. He rapped the metal with his knuckles. It clanked soundly. Fett stood up and began to put away his tools inside the open cargo hold of the ship, parked in the landing bay just inside the compound's outermost wall.
Xola didn't follow him inside. The interior lights lit the sand around her feet orange in the night.
"I'm not trying to force her into anything. I got married when I was her age."
"How did that work out for you?" Fett called from inside Slave I.
Xola shrugged, pulling her coat around her body a little tighter against the chill of the desert night.
"I have four beautiful children. I'm thankful for that."
Fett marched down the cargo ramp, his boots making a racket on the metal.
"I cannot even imagine her with child right now, when she herself is still one."
Xola squinted at Fett, as if trying to see through the dark visor to his face. She clicked her tongue. "Sometimes, I think that you would just prefer to keep her to yourself, child or not."
Fett stayed silent for a second. "Be careful of whom you are accusing." He could feel the blood rise in his unseen face.
"Don't think I don't know about the little kisses you two share. Or that I don't see you watching her."
"I have never instigated anything. If you have a problem, then it is with Zara who is becoming more out of control every day," he answered coldly.
"I'd prefer it if you would just admit to this dalliance and marry her. It would save us the trouble of paying your fees." She sneered as she spoke and walked back to the main house.
Fett shook his head and wondered if this trouble was really worth the exorbitant price paid by the family. He could just leave tonight, return this month's retainer credits and be completely free of the whole family. Between Ybyth's dementia, Xola's increasingly cold and mercenary attitude, and Zara's wild-child behavior, he was wondering if any of it was worth it. He didn't really care about them. He cared about the job and doing it right. Perhaps what he needed was a good hunt to take his mind off the family for a few weeks. He removed his helmet and placed it on its shelf. The cockpit illuminated in his presence.
Zara was laying sideways in his pilot's seat with both legs propped up on the arm. She had curled up there, holding herself, since after dinner.
"What are you brooding about?"
"You made me look like a fool, Boba," she answered angrily. Her lips pouted.
He held off from answering for a moment, taking time to remove each glove.
"That's true, I'm sorry."
"I've never felt so embarrassed."
"It was for your own good, trust me."
"How is that?" Zara sat up as Fett shooed her away from the chair so he could sit. He checked the systems on the computer readout. The error regarding the displaced panel on the hull had disappeared. Zara sat on the arm of the chair, watching him over his shoulder as he worked.
"This Georne, fellow, was looking for a free ride. That's not actually how your house runs."
"I still don't like to look like a fool."
"Sometimes your ego needs a little deflating. It will do you some good," he said. She continued to pout, crossing her arms and looking away. "Come here," he ordered and pulled her down into his lap. This was an unusual display of affection, he knew, but try as he might to not care…it did bother him to see her so clearly upset. She moved unwillingly but didn't try to fight his strong arms. He held her silently until she slowly relaxed and laid her head on his shoulder. Her face pressed up against the collar of his jumpsuit.
"I'm not a little kid."
"No one is going to allow you to be one for much longer, so I'd just enjoy it if I were you."
"I'm not," she said angrily and hit her hand against his chest plate. She shook her stunned fingers in pain. Fett engulfed her little hand in his own, holding it between them.
"How old are you, Boba?" Zara asked to break the silence.
"I'm thirty-eight."
"You're so old!" she nearly let herself laugh. Fett rolled his eyes.
"And you are very young. Too young to marry. Too young to even run this business, but sometimes we're forced to do things before we're ready. Marriage is one thing I think you can delay, for a few more years."
"I'm not a virgin."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."
"Well it's true."
"I wouldn't go spreading it around. Your reputation is an asset."
"Oh Boba, you're so old-fashioned sometimes," she yawned and settled more firmly against him.