I was so glad when I could finally get up again. Kestrel had fussed incredibly over me, and it had taken a lot of talking to convince him that I felt wonderful and, yes, I did want to go to work. He fussed all breakfast long and insisted on packing my lunch himself. It was hard not to be annoyed. When I finally got away, my heart was pounding. I was sure everybody could see that something was wrong with me, that I was a failure as upstanding citizen and a blemish walking the streets of Coruscant.

I hurried along the sidewalks, but I did not stop at the nearest police station as I had planned. instead I decided to talk to Mr. Blindgen first. I felt, I owed him an explanation, and was afraid, the police would not let me go, once they had me under protection. I reached the bank faster than ever, hurried through the controls at the entrance and rushed up to my office.

I did not reach it. Before I had put a foot down in our corridor, Mr. Blindgen's personal secretary blocked my way. She looked determined as she surveyed me.

"Mr. Blindgen wants to see you immediately," she ordered and I was ushered directly into Blindgen's office. My boss looked worried in the extreme, but also as if he didn't get any sleep or food in the last two days.

"Sit," he said without bothering to greet me. "Do you have the slightest idea what has been happening here, while you were at home?" He was certainly annoyed, but also - frightened?

"Maybe," I volunteered. "I think I found out who uses my account and," I swallowed, "I wanted to go to the police. But I thought, I'd better tell you first."

Blindgen began to pace his small office, hands clasped behind his back. "The police wants you, because, apparently Black Sun has put a rather high bounty on your head. The police is very interested in finding out why."

He stopped and stared at me, before he began to pace again. "Then CosSec turns up on our doorstep, represented by a Mr. Hal Horn who seems as keen on getting his hands on you as the police. More so, because he wants your help in bringing down Black Sun while the police only wants you for washing money for that organisation."

Suddenly he stopped and dropped heavily into his own chair. "And finally, Prince Xizor himself has the nerve to show up here and inquire for you. Trin took him on a tour through the offices instead, but he said," Blindgen cleared his throat, " that he and you had some 'unfinished personal business' he'd like to terminate. What did you DO, Lorna?"

I had followed his elaborations with growing dread, not believing that things could happen so fast. Yes, I had believed, Kestrel would eventually try to silence me, but so fast? How did he know I only mentioned to Trin - and he wasn't even in the room at that time. Did he have it bugged? I didn't put it past me. But still, bounties, and Black Sun and Xizor himself. That could impossibly be all because of me. I swallowed.

"I think, well, no, I am pretty certain that it is Kestrel Ardens, my fiancé that is using my account." And I rushed into a report of how we met, and great it had been and everything up until that dinner at 'All Oceans' after which I passed out. "He used that to take my retina scan," I told Mr. Blindgen miserably. "But I didn't dare call you because I am not sure what else he would do."

"Well, seems he was pretty busy while you lay in bed," Blindgen said. "Trin gave me your message, too. I think that was a good idea, the comm lines are probably bugged."

"As is my room," I added quietly. "Because I never gave Kestrel the tiniest sign that anything was amiss. Only the message I gave Trin, and he was not around then." I shook my head, but I appreciated his attempt to encourage me. But my outlook was more than bleak. With each and every bounty hunter and each and every bounty hunter wannabe on my trail, where could I go?

"I commed Horn as soon as you entered the building," Blindgen tried to soothe me. "He said not to move and he'd be here in half an hour, less if he breaks all traffic rules. And I also called CorSec in general and the police. Both of which said not to move and they'll send somebody."

I quivered in the chair, holding my fingers laced tightly in my lap so I wouldn't squirm outright.

"But, but that means they know I'm here!" I squeaked. My first impulse was to jump up and run, but I had no idea where to go. If my home was bugged, so were probably the cameras of the bank, and if that was so, then Black Sun knew I was here. Why did the police not do things like that, then they'd know, too, then they'd already be here.

I stopped. Why was nobody here to collect me. It was clear that I'd return from sick leave today, so it would not have been a problem for either CorSec nor the police to turn up at the right time. What could deter them? What could deter strong legal forces like that? I did not dare imagine.

I almost jumped when the door opened after a short knock, but it was only his secretary.

"Mr. Blindgen, a box has just been delivered. It is addressed to both, you and Ms. Kees." She seemed confused, and held out the small brown box.

I looked at Blindgen, but he seemed as lost as I was. Finally, he just took it and nodded at his secretary. She vanished and softly closed the door behind her. The box was not very big, maybe enough for a small pair of shoes, and except our names and the address of the bank it was completely nondescript.

Since my name was written first, Blindgen gave it to me with a shrug. Reluctantly, I took the box and opened it. I almost vomited all over my boss, when I jerked my head away from the content. Even with my eyes clamped shut I could see them: broken, twisted, and bloodied all over their guts partly spilled and the eyes -- those eyes! -- white with fear. No denga was ever meant to find such a terrible end.

I choked with tears rising to my eyes. If Kestrel had done that -- how could he? But the picture of the torn bodies did not leave. I felt Blindgen's hand on my shoulder. It was a helpless gesture, but right then, it kept my shaking world from flipping over. I opened my eyes to look at him, and I didn't care at all, that tears were running down my face.

He had closed the box again, but his knuckles around it where white with strain. "There was a message in the top," he said quietly. "You're next."

What he didn't tell me was, that it had been written with the blood of my four furballs. He was a good man.

The secretary poked her head in again, saying that a man was making a huge fuss at the reception, insisting to see Mr. Blindgen immediately. Through the open door I recognized the voice of Kestrel.

I felt all blood draining from my face as I looked at my boss and shook my head. Then I pushed my way past his secretary, shoving her into the room in the process and ran towards the back of the offices.

It was common knowledge, and as commonly forgotten that all building had an emergency exit at their perceived back. I guess the whole of Coruscant was connected by these half secret fire exits, stairs and plain corridors leading through the backsides of all buildings. It was a maze, but I still remembered the way form the back of our offices into the next street. I ran.

Behind me, a shot rang out and panicked voices. I heard Mr. Blindgen's protest fall silent after another shot, and Kesterl's voice raising over all others. He was asking for me, and a choir of frightened voices answered dutifully. He laughed as another volley hit the clerks.

Kestrel's laughter rang in my ears. How could he ever do such a thing? I wiped the tears away with my arm so I could see better and heard my fiancé come after me. Ex-fiancé, if I had a say in that. Or he for that matter. I ran down the emergency stairs taking two step at a time, almost stumbling, when the door screeched open again.

"You run all you want, darling," his voice rang out above me. "You will get nowhere. The bounty my boss put on your head was high enough to attract even," he paused for effect, "Boba Fett."

I stumbled over a step and rolled to the next platform. Kestrel must have heard the noise and laughed again. It sounded hollow in the stairwell and I wondered how I could ever have loved that laughter.

"Surprise again, darling. Do you want me to tell you how many escaped him, or do you know? And do you know about his methods? Maybe you should just stop and let me get you. We'll have one last go for old times sake, and I blow off your head at the best part. Can you think of a better way to die?"

I jerked open the next best door and tumbled onto the small platform a storey over the next level. If the door had not banged shut behind me, I probably would have jumped, just to be out of hearing range. I flew down the stairs, taking four at a time and landed on the duracrete with a heavy thud. Not waiting for the pain in my knees to subside I bolted around the next corner and began a sprint. I had no idea where I was or where I was going. I didn't even think about using a roundabout route to lose Kestrel.

Kestrel. The man who - I couldn't even think about it now. The meeting in the pet shop, the caf, the meetings, dinners, movies, pretending to love me - that one hurt most of all. Pretending to love me. I felt tears rise in my eyes again and the street began to blur. Behind me the now dreaded laughter of Kestrel echoed in the street.

I ran. I ran like I had never run before, my heart pounding almost in my throat, my lungs desperately trying to grasp enough oxygen from the short gasps I made. I knew I was in good shape, but I heard him catch up. I made the mistake of turning to look and ran headfirst into some strange soft and hard wall.

I lost my balance, stumbled, and the wall reached out and grabbed my arm as I fell. As I turned to see what I had actually run into, I saw Kestrel come into view from corner of my eye. Then Boba Fett's helmet came into focus, just before the world around me exploded into light and speed -- and then into pain.

When I came to myself again later, I found myself lying under a heap of debris, alive only because something had made a huge dent in a slate of durasteel before that dropped on me, thus creating a little niche. I felt pretty tangled, and though I hurt everywhere, it seemed that nothing was actually broken. One of my eyes was glued shut with blood, and the other could only see a little light shining through the cracks of the rubble around me, but that seemed to be the worst.

Outside there was an eerie silence. I began to wonder whether my eardrums were broken, when I heard the soft scraping sound of little paws somewhere above me. I began to move tentatively, and soon found that most of the debris was rather light, and the damage had come from the high velocity it must have had at the impact. Slowly I began to work my way out.

When I had finally freed myself from the pile, I was sure the whole neighbourhood had been awoken by the clatter I made. But that proved to be wrong. The street was deserted, except for a few skin-rats that nibbled at the waste lying around. It must have been the scratching of their paws that I had heard earlier. I watched them for a while, envying them their simple little lives. Willing this picture to block the last image of my dengas.

When I looked into the other direction, I saw the shape of Boba Fett still on the ground only a few paces away. For a moment my heart stopped cold, but then I realized that most likely he wouldn't be lying here, if he could have gotten away. Carefully, I crept closer.

The caution proved needless; the bounty hunter lay completely still. I crouched next to him for a long minute, but he didn't move. Reluctantly, I reached out to feel for his pulse, suddenly remembering that I would have to take off his helmet first. Praying his head would keep together without it as well, I carefully removed the green piece of armour.

He looked dead. His face was twisted as if in pain, the eyes closed, his lips pressed tightly together. Gently, I laid my fingers on his neck and applied a little pressure -- nothing. I let my hand hover over his nose for a while, then lowered my face over his, but even the sensitive skin around my eyes couldn't feel the slightest breath. I sat back on my heels, contemplating my options.

Not that they were many. As soon as I showed my face anywhere, Black Sun would be breathing down my neck, not to mention each and every bounty hunter in the galaxy. If I wanted to pretend I was actually dead, I'd need a new face, and I didn't have the money for an effective reconstruction of my features. I looked down at the dead bounty hunter.

The past few months have been difficult, difficult and extremely taxing. But I have adapted, haven't I?

I stare at the face of the woman that is looking back at me from the mirror -- stare at the helmet under her arm…

Who am I?