Title: The Binding: A Boba Fett Adventure
By: Mr. Roboto
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, or the setting, just the story built around them.
Note: This is my first story, so be as brutally honest as possible.
Chapter 1
There was one thing that the Imperial soldiers serving under Commander Calam knew was a bad sign: Commander Calam was scratching his neck. They knew soon the scratching would spread all over their commander's body, and then they'd really be in trouble. When Calam started itching it meant he was angry. Under the pressure of the Emperor's thumb, one's job and life were never secure. The weight of it was enormous, even for a man who was relied on convenient connections rather than military skill. He was low enough to avoid the ire of the Emperor, and high enough to enjoy the life of an Imperial officer. But there were always risks in the Empire. For some these risks manifested in improved performance, for others mental breakdown, and for many, like Calam, uncontrollable and irrational rage. The reason for his conniption flew across the security screen in front of him. At his order, the camera froze on the unmistakable figure. A notorious T-shaped visor stared into the camera. Calam slumped back in his chair quivering with his silent fury, scratching underneath his left arm. Calam was oblivious to the nervous glances of his bridge officers. They had seen him in action before, and knew their lives hung in the balance of a bureaucratic civilian masquerading as a soldier, not to mention the ever present nervous tick. When Calam was presented with something unexpected, he reacted badly, and they all would experience the consequences if the Commander couldn't control himself. But that was the fundamental flaw in Calam's character. When he couldn't control a situation, he lost control of himself. Calam's lack of self-awareness left him ignorant of these shortcomings. He was only focused on the frozen image before him. The man on the screen was ruining his first full day as a Commander. Nothing would deter him now.
He's fallen into the wrong spider's web. He may well have skill against common thieves and smugglers, allegedly, but let us see how he fares against trained soldiers. My trained soldiers. It's time to stop indulging in these games.
The element of bravado in Calam's thoughts only came with someone not used to commanding such a large force. The assumption was that numbers could overcome anything. When one ran out of ideas, just throw a bunch of soldiers at the problem. Calam also knew very little of the man behind the T-shaped visor and what he knew of the legend he was dismissing out of hand. These were not mistakes a soldier would make.
The reality was, trained Imperials were the last thing Boba Fett was worried about as he ran through the halls of the Carrack Class Cruiser. As usual, he was concentrating only on the element he could control: His own actions. To fret about variables he had no power over, was a waste of energy. Fett loathed wasting energy, among a litany of other things, including unnecessary mistakes.
Carelessness. I should have updated my information.
Fett was referring to the events that had started the night before. He had arrived in secret, infiltrating one of the few independent shipyards still left in the galaxy. The Emperor was coming to realize that independent construction corporations made better warships. People tended to work better when they weren't at the wrong end of a blaster muzzle. It was a lesson Imperials had a very difficult time with, but the growing strength of the Rebellion was giving them a crash course. The Carrack Class Imperial Cruiser Fett was running through had just been signed over to the Galactic Empire upon completion of its construction. The armor clad bounty hunter had infiltrated the Cruiser's manufacturing plant. This particular plant was owned by the famous Damorian Manufacturing Corporation, one of the most powerful independent corporations in this sector. Fett had arrived here to pursue a certain Imperial Commander wanted by Lomon the Large. Like most gangsters, he was an unforgiving Hutt who didn't like when high rollers didn't pay up on their lost bets. Imperials seemed to be especially guilty in this regard with the might of the Empire's fleet protecting them. Most hunters would never take a bounty on an Imperial officer, but obviously Fett wasn't like most hunters. He wasn't really like anyone.
But if I don't hurry up, I'm going to die just the same as any other organism.
He had paid a hefty price for the information on where and when Calam was being reassigned. One of Fett's many informants had discovered the Commander had just been given his own Cruiser to man. The reality is Calam was unqualified and very well connected. So naturally he got his own ship. It was Imperial meritocracy at its finest. Fett intended to personally reward the man on this promotion. It wasn't a vendetta, it was just like any other job. But deep down, Fett couldn't deny it was more entertaining when the target deserved what he got. The Mandalorian had arrived hours before the Imperials, and spent the entire night cutting into the new ship's hull while the Imperials were still en route. It was long and arduous work. He had planned to be waiting for Calam when he arrived, and make his escape out the way he had come. Unfortunately, Fett's information had not been accurate. This new model of Cruiser had reinforced hull strength. The time it took Fett to cut through, even with the most powerful tools money could buy, was one hour too long, and Calam's men were already onboard as Fett stalked the halls heading toward the bridge of the vessel. They had happened upon the hunter before he got a clear shot at Calam. The only option had been a temporary retreat. Fett had headed back for his hull breach.
I deserve to die for being so lazy and stupid.
Fett reminded himself of the cardinal rules of bounty hunting. He was always reminding himself, over and over again. It was a constant demand for perfection that was impossible to reach. Yet failure to continually strive for it would mean certain death. His human failings disgusted him, and the only thing that alleviated that disgust was robotic recitation of his rules.
There are three things that catch a mark, power, preparation, ----
Fett rolled onto the ground, and then back onto his feet as a blaster bolt struck the back of his left shoulder. His back leaned against the hull, getting as close to it as he could to make himself a smaller target. The hunter had nearly bought the moisture farm. His armor absorbed most of the shock, but there were chinks in every armor. It only took one lucky shot. He fired back, forcing the Storm Troopers to take cover. Fett had nearly reached his destination. He ran a few more steps and swung through the hole, dashing toward his starship. He had parked it close by. It had cost a good amount to pay the Damorians guarding this section of the hangar to take the night off. As he reached the Slave I, the ship began to lift into the air, already prepped for takeoff. Blaster bolts rained around him. He was still a few feet away, as he gave orders to his ship. The Firespray turned its guns on the storm troopers as Fett climbed in, tearing them apart. Fett leaped aboard, banging his helmet on the hatch as it closed shut. He shook his head as he took his seat. The Slave I was already bursting free from the hangar.
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Onboard the Cruiser Calam barked orders to his men.
"Tell the Damorians to back off. We're taking this fool. Carrack Cruisers are the fastest ships in the Imperial fleet."
An officer reluctantly prepped the new ship for lift off. He knew better than to question orders or point out his superior officer's limited knowledge of Imperial ship specs. Insubordination would be rewarded with death. But Calam was not thinking clearly. The officer couldn't completely stop himself.
"Sir, are you sure about this? We haven't even done any diagnostics yet, and Imperial regulations demand such tests in the event of a newly built vessel. Besides, that bounty hunter pierced our hull. Who knows what else he was doing in here? There could be more damage. He's just one man, sir, and we should be cautious with a new vessel."
With their new powerful shields, Calam was confident they could crush this criminal's petty starship. He was disgusted that a fellow officer would show any fear of one single human. Caution and fear were synonyms, in the mind of Calam. This ship could destroy Lord Vader himself. Yes, there was no doubt of that. He was invincible and safe here. This Fett ran away after all. He was a cowardly assassin, who could not face him in true battle. He had tried to kill an Imperial officer. Fett may as well have attacked a Krayt Dragon with stun baton. The Dragon was about to bite back. Calam would kill him first. Calam would kill Boba Fett. The Emperor would reward him for removing a dangerous criminal from the galaxy. There was no doubt. He would win.
The officer could see the Calam's eyes staring blankly ahead, sweat pouring down the Commander's face. He knew his Commander had already forgotten his question. Calam was in his own world now, and he was dragging all of them with him. The officer gave the signal to launch. Fett's hole had been sealed over with a temporary force field generator. The Cruiser was no worse for the wear, as it began its ascent in pursuit of the much smaller starship. The Slave I's onboard computer got a lock on the large vessel, as Calam's ship began closing in from behind. It was much faster than his small starship. Fett was not nearly ready to jump into hyperspace. But then, that had never been his goal. Fett held a small detonator in his hand as the Firespray ship reached the void of space. Without hesitation, he pressed the button. The Cruiser exploded in a shower of sparks and debris.
--- and a backup plan.
Fett hated to use his backup plans however, as they usually involved more deaths than the target. While he was cutting the durasteel hull, Fett's droid covered the surface with countless camouflaged explosives at strategic points. He knew even if they managed to get the ship started, the shields would be outside the explosives and thus would be no protection. Without his men, this Imperial officer was just another overconfident gambler. And without its shields for protection, an Imperial Cruiser was a sitting duck, with or without a reinforced hull. Once again, Fett had won, but he took no pleasure in this hunt. Over a hundred men had died needlessly. Being ruthless without being sadistic was Fett's preferred course. But while he hated unnecessary deaths, he hated the thought of failure even more. It was not the killing that was the sin of this hunt, it was the failure of his primary plan. But there had been no alternative. The widespread belief that Fett had never failed to acquire a target was his most powerful weapon. He intended to make sure that always remained true. Shaking his head in regret at this misadventure, Fett quickly hacked into the Damorian computer system erasing all evidence that he'd been there. He had no fear from the Empire, but he'd hate to lose such a potentially lucrative employer. Lord Vader always had a job or two for him. They would be unlikely to believe the Damorians if they told them a lone bounty hunter had destroyed an entire capital ship. He preferred not to think what they would do to the Damorians for making the Cruiser malfunction. Displeased, the Mandalorian shot into hyperspace, just as the Damorian fighters burst free of the atmosphere.
