Jango Fett swore as he used a bacta spray on the long scratch that ran down his right forearm. He hadn't injured himself while getting dressed since he was a child, and today he'd somehow managed to do so. It figured. Today really hadn't been his day.

At 12:01 a.m. an important part decided to give up the ghost despite having been replaced only three months before, forcing him to drop out of hyperspace and alter his destination somewhat.

He managed to get back to his bunk to catch some sleep at 3 a.m. only to be woken up at 6 by his eight year-old son who had somehow found his stash of pornographic material, and had been forced to explain exactly why he had a bunch of pictures of naked ladies since Boba never took "I'll tell you when you're older" for an answer and would continually pester him until he finally told him just to get some peace and quiet. Suffice to say, the conversation was rather awkward.

Shortly after landing at his new destination, he had decided to dress in his armor instead of his casual attire since this place looked like the sort where the locals would do their best to screw the offworlder over. Very few people messed with Mandalorians once, and even fewer twice. It had been while he was getting dressed that he had somehow managed to tangle his legs into the flight suit he wore under his armor and fallen backwards, scratching his arm on Boba's bunk.

CLANG CLANG CLANGCLANGCLANGCLANGCLANG CLANG CLANG thump.

"Dad!"

He looked up wondering what the hell that noise was and praying it wasn't expensive. From his son's tone of voice, it sounded urgent.

He winced in pain as he jammed his arm into the sleeve of his coverall and threw his armor on in record time. Moments later, he found himself in the cargo hold staring down at an intruder.

The auburn haired young woman who was attempting to pry off a metal bucket that her foot had been caught in was barely recognizable as a Jedi Padawan. In fact it had taken several seconds of shocked staring to finally process that was what she was. Her face was covered in soot as were her rather singed looking robes which were also covered in mud, paint, and who knew what else. There was also a wide variety of vegetation tangled in her hair.

The girl who couldn't have been older than sixteen finally looked up after freeing her boot from the bucket.

"Kriff" she swore. "This just isn't my sithing day."

He had to agree with her as he threw her off his ship and into the waiting arms of her pursuers.