On Meetings with Bounty Hunters

Athara was trying hard not to show how nervous she was, and so far she seemed to be succeeding. She had only received one pointed look from her Master as they were about to step off the shuttle. She had immediately checked that her mental shields were in place and that her Force-signature was sufficiently guarded. For almost as long as she could remember her Master had stressed the importance of keeping her mind protected and the breadth of her abilities a closely guarded secret; it was something her life depended on, he insisted. Both had been perfectly adequate, she found, so she then renewed her concentration on not showing how nervous she was; that was probably what the look had been about.

For she was nervous. Extremely so. She had to fight not to fiddle with the hems of her sleeves or tug at the cowl of her cloak, anxious to ensure it was still covering her face as Vader had instructed. Her Master rarely took her anywhere beyond his Fortress on Mustafar or his personal Star Destroyer. And he never took her along on missions…until now, at least. She'd been too young before and not ready, he'd always told her when she asked. But apparently eleven was old enough to accompany Vader beyond his personal Star Destroyer, where she had been actively learning what it meant to be an Imperial agent and commander by his side for nearly a year now. Before that, she had been confined to the private collection of rooms Vader had set aside for his and her personal use as well as for her training. They had nearly a whole level to themselves where Athara was tasked with learning as much as she could about the Force and stretching and honing her own abilities under her Master's hard but expert tutelage.

But now, for the first time, she was accompanying him beyond the Devastator. She was anxious not to disappoint him. Though he hadn't explicitly said so, that she was by his side suggested that he believed she was ready. She only hoped that she was up to the task.

It had taken every ounce of self-control she had not to stare curiously around the hangar bay as they stepped off the shuttle. It certainly wasn't the first time she been in the primary landing bay of a Star Destroyer; she'd spent a great deal of her life on the Devastator and Vader's previous flagship before that, but that didn't stop her from wanting to marvel at the scale, order and, perhaps most interestingly, the differences within the massive space. She must have done alright in controlling her thoughts, because Vader hadn't paid her the least attention, focusing instead on the officer providing him with a status report. She imagined that she was supposed to be paying attention to the briefing as well. After all, Vader had told her that one day she would be expected to be able to command a Star Destroyer on her own.

But she was distracted by a ship she'd never seen before where it was sitting off to the side of the hangar. It was oddly shaped and looked like it was sitting on its back, resting on its engines. The faded green and red ship fascinated her, so much so that she nearly faltered in her brisk pace to keep up with her Master's long strides.

She knew better than to run up and ask him, though, no matter how tempted she was. Vader stressed discipline when in the presence of others, especially subordinates. One could not possibly expect discipline unless you demonstrated it yourself.

So instead she waited, hoping that they would perhaps be left alone soon so that she would have a chance to ask about the odd ship.

The officer entered the turbolift with them and accompanied her and Vader to the bridge, where Vader made his rounds, checking in with the Admiral and periodically quizzing Athara, turning the routine inspection into an exercise. It proved to be great fun, as he allowed Athara to remind the commanders of their own incompetence when, in answering Vader's questions, she proved herself more adept than some of them were on the particulars of how to run a Star Destroyer. Finally Vader decided he had sufficiently humbled and even humiliated the commanders and intimidated the command personnel enough—many of the lieutenants and captains were nearly trembling they were so uneasy—that he simply turned and made for the turbolift. Athara had to try very hard not to giggle at that. The stunned looks on the Admiral and Rear Admiral's faces when Vader simply turned and left were rather funny. Similarly turning on her heel, Athara followed her Master, forcing her smile away and clamping down on her mental shields. She could sense that her Master was annoyed by the Admiral's ineptitude…although, nothing had been bad enough that he needed to make any examples today, Athara couldn't help but consider, so it couldn't have been all that bad either.

Her chance to ask about the odd ship finally came when they reached the turbolift, when the officer who had met them in the hangar and proceeded to shadow them around the bridge, saluted and left Vader and Athara to continue on without him. Once the doors slid shut and the lift started moving, Athara turned to her Master, intent on asking only to hesitate when she realized he might not appreciate being bothered just now with her curiosity.

"I can feel your unease, my apprentice. You hesitate to ask me something that has been weighing on your mind." Athara's cheeks burned as her gaze snapped up to her Master. He hadn't even looked down to her, instead staring ahead toward the gleaming doors of the lift, as though waiting for them to open. She shuffled awkwardly at him calling her out on her nerves. It was that movement that finally caused him to fix her with a firm look. She immediately ordered her feet to still before clearing her throat.

"The ship in the landing bay, the strange green one that looks like it's fallen over backward; whose is it? Why is it here, on this Star Destroyer? It's not an Imperial vessel; it looks like a civilian one." She caught a faint trace of amusement and approval from him through the Force at her observations, leaving her pleased that she'd sensed his reaction. He gave her another pointed glance. She tamped down her pleasure, tightening her mental shields before he could rebuke her on it.

"You were not attentive to the Commander's briefing when we arrived, my very young apprentice. You allowed yourself to be distracted by the ship and in doing so missed the report that would have answered your curiosity without questions." She fought against the urge to shrink away in the face of his scolding; to do so would only earn a second reprimand.

Apparently satisfied that she's taken his admonishment to heart, Vader turned his gaze forward again.

"The ship is called the Slave I and it belongs to a bounty hunter called—"

"Boba Fett," Athara interjected almost excitedly. She remembered reading about the bounty hunter in the dossiers Vader had given her to study on regular Imperial contacts, associates and contractors. He looked down at her again and that elusive approving feeling flashed across Athara's awareness a second time.

"Don't interrupt, Athara," he reprimanded. She ducked her head in apology, using the movement to hide her pleased smile behind the cowl of her cloak. Beneath them, she could feel the turbolift slowing. She frowned. It had been too long for them to be heading for the crew quarters and too soon for the landing bay. A quick glance to the floor display confirmed that. She wracked her memory for what was on the floor they were approaching. An idea quickly came to mind as she realized where they were likely heading. For all intents and purposes, all Star Destroyers were essentially the same. It sped up construction and helped ensure efficiency as no additional training or acclimatization was needed when personnel were transferred from ship to ship.

"We're meeting Boba Fett on the detention level," she said, careful not to make it sound like a question. Her Master taught her to project certainty when solving problems. Uncertainty was weakness, and weakness was dangerous in the Galaxy they were a part of. Vader nodded only, both confirming her assessment and acknowledging his approval that she'd come to it so quickly.

"You will maintain your silence unless I am the one speaking to you, my apprentice. You will observe and attend closely; be mindful of the Force. Do not give into distraction." She ducked her head abashedly at the pointed reminder.

At that point, the doors whooshed open and Vader was striding forward, Athara trying to keep up without looking like she was trying to keep up. She was his apprentice, his shadow. Not his servant or his pet. She did not scurry after him. Thankfully, he was mindful of her significantly shorter strides, and had checked his own usually fiercely brisk pace to compensate. She still had to work to stay close, though.

As Vader strode into the detention block the two officers on duty and their attendant handful of Stormtroopers all snapped to attention. But they weren't the ones to catch Athara's eye.

The lightly armored and helmeted figure was leaning casually against the wall on the far side of the main security consoles and making the officers and troopers nervous. He was the one who drew her attention. They were all afraid of him, she realized. For a moment as the turbolift doors had opened Athara had assumed the fear in the room was because of Vader; not an outrageous assumption considering how the level of fear had spiked further as her Master exited the lift. But Athara realized quickly that these officers' unease had been sparked before Vader had even arrived in the detention block.

No, they were nervous about the helmeted figure who, even when leaning casually against the wall, came across as dangerous.

Boba Fett, her reason supplied, belatedly recognizing him from the holo included in the dossiers. A chill went through her as she also recalled the lists of his exploits and favorite methods for apprehending and dispatching his marks. Dangerous was a very apt word to describe this man. Athara had to concentrate for a moment to tamp down a sudden flicker of her own nerves. It was silly, really. She was Vader's apprentice. If this bounty hunter dared to try anything, her Master would protect her. Of that Athara was certain. But he would have to be insane to try anything with Vader here anyway. And that was without considering that he'd obviously brought in a bounty of some sort; he wouldn't get paid if he were to try anything.

"Well, have you captured him alive?" Vader's tone was nearly patronizing. Athara could practically feel the bounty hunter's irritation, though he didn't move a muscle.

"As requested," he replied indolently before jerking his head toward the cellblock where said prisoner was obviously confined. Vader stared at him for a moment, the weight of his glare palpable even to those not caught in it.

"And his identity has been confirmed?" Though he didn't look away from Fett, Vader's own helmeted head tilted minutely toward the block officers. One of the officers jerked a bit.

"Y-yes, Milord. He has been processed and awaits your attention in cell 2583." Vader's harsh glare seemed to have eased so that he was merely studying Fett now. Fett stared back, watching the Dark Lord of the Sith just as warily.

"Commander Merra will see to your payment, Bounty Hunter," Vader said finally before turning abruptly to leave, glancing briefly at Athara as he did. She immediately fell into step behind him.

In an instant Fett was off the wall, striding toward the turbolift himself. As Athara was about to step in behind her Master, Fett was suddenly beside her, looking down on her through the t-shaped eye-slit of his helmet. His disdain was clear even though she could not see his face. She could feel it on her skin. She managed to keep from shrinking back from the look.

"Who's she," he asked, his scathing tone chasing Athara's unease away, making her bristle.

"My apprentice," Vader answered simply, watching the two of them with obvious interest. Fett made a sound of acknowledgement before taking a step forward. Annoyed by his manner, Athara pointedly took her own step forward, so that one of them would have to give way so the other could enter the turbolift. Evidently Fett, seeing her as a mere child, thought that she should be the one to give way. When she didn't she could feel him growing annoyed.

"Move," he sneered before moving to push past her. Athara's temper flared and, drawing on her anger as she'd been taught, she instinctively threw up a hand, palm out, and pushed. It wasn't a strong push—she was still young and he was a grown man, after all—but it was enough to force the bounty hunter to take a steadying step back. Had she not been so cross and insulted, she might have smiled. He looked down at her again, and she could feel his own angry glare like a brand.

"Force-using brat," he muttered angrily in Huttese. Her temper swelled again and before she could stop herself, she was snapping back at him, drawing a trace of surprise from him that she had understood what he'd said.

"I may be a Force-using brat, but I am also Lord Vader's Shadow. Remember that, Bounty Hunter. You may depend on my goodwill one day, either for your job or your life." Then, giving him a glare that she hoped he could feel given that her face was still covered, she strode purposefully into the lift, standing beside her Master so the bounty hunter would have to stand with his back to her and the Dark Lord.

A flash of rage went through Fett. Nearly growling, he took a stiff step back, indicating without words that he wasn't going to share the lift with them.

The doors slid shut, cutting off Athara's view of the detention block and the fuming bounty hunter. As the lift began to move, Vader finally spoke, having not made a sound nor even moved a muscle throughout the whole exchange.

"It is not wise to make an enemy of Boba Fett, my apprentice," her Master said firmly. Athara was still too riled up to even try controlling her impulsive response.

"Perhaps he is unwise to risk making an enemy of me," she muttered irritably. An abrupt sound came from Vader's respirator that started Athara out of her anger, her eyes flying around to her Master. She'd never heard a sound like that before. Was that—that sounded almost like—a laugh? She stared at Vader in shock. A heavy, black-clad hand landed on her shoulder.

"You did well, my young apprentice," he said, a reserved measure of pride in his voice.

Athara beamed up at him.

A/N: See what happens when ZabuzasGirl gets me thinking on little Athara and WeylandCorp 4 asks me about Boba Fett?

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