AN: Many, many thanks to everyone who has taken the time to leave a comment. Your kind words are very much appreciated. Also thanks to those who have placed the tale into your alerts and favourites. I hope that you continue to enjoy the story as it progresses.

Thanks to go MJ Mink for taking on the task of beta reading and fixing my dreadful grammar. : ) If you haven't check out her fic then please do so - you are in for a treat!

As always - all previous disclaimers apply.

Part 10

Boba Fett bodily dragged his young charge through the busy streets of Mos Espa. It was early evening and the street trading was at its peak as the twin suns began their slow descent into twilight. The air was cooler, drawing the population out of their homes. Fett and the boy had attracted a few curious glances which was what the bounty hunter had hoped for, and why he had finally settled on taking the boy to the parts dealer in Mos Espa. The other choice, the farm, was too isolated and too many innocents stood to be killed.

The spaceport allowed witnesses who would see him taking the slave in and leaving alone with his payment. Those who glanced their way saw only a known bounty hunter and his prey; some grinned at the boy's plight, others quickly looked away helplessly shaking their heads with pity or guilt.

Another runaway slave captured. Another slave going to suffer at his master's hands.

Luke grunted, his laboured breathing punctuated with hitches of pain, and Fett couldn't help but feel some sympathy for him as he adjusted his grip and hauled him further upright. The boy had been quiet since he had been awakened by a powerful stim shot and remained silent as Fett explained where they were and what his plans were. He had hissed in pain as the bounty hunter had encircled his wrists with the widest cuffs he owned, ones that encased the shattered wrists and lower arms in solid metal and acted as splints.

Fett had no idea how much the young man had understood; the blue eyes were hazy with pain and had difficulty focusing on him despite the high levels of stimulant in his blood stream.

As he was unable to walk, Fett had slung the bound arms around his own neck and manhandled him off the floor of the cargo hold, dragging him from the ship while ignoring the gasps of pain and the muted protests and, as they had journeyed through the spaceport, the youth had fallen silent and limp, allowing Fett to take him where he pleased.

Boba paused outside the parts dealer's property. It was a single story building, run down and crumbling on the outside, but he didn't miss the new security camera above the thick metallic door. It was either a response to losing a slave, or to losing some other property to the scum that populated the area around the docking bays.

"Here we go, kid," he warned, under his breath. "Either play your part or stay quiet."

Fett smiled at the grunt that he got as a response - maybe the kid did understand - and stepped across the threshold into a dimly lit interior that suited his purposes perfectly. He quickly surveyed the shop; the shelves, splitting the area into three aisles, were all stacked high with boxes and crates that seemed to be haphazardly labelled. One of the larger boxes on the floor would suit his needs once the deal had been done, and he grinned beneath his helmet when he spotted the repulsor sled that sat just within the doorway.

This whole set-up was ideal.

There was a low service counter running along the width of the room and behind it a large Gran who was just turning away from a human customer to glance at the newcomers. Its three black eyes blinked in unison, and Fett took the gesture as being one of surprise; after all, it wasn't every day that Boba Fett walked into your shop.

He lost no time. He dumped Luke onto the dusty floor.

"I believe this is yours, Gran."

The Gran peered briefly over the counter at the loose bundle groaning on the floor and excused himself from his customer. He lumbered out onto the shop floor and bent down for a closer look at Fett's prisoner, grabbing a handful of the boy's hair and lifting his head from the floor. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the battered and swollen face looking for recognisable features among the bruises.

"Bosha bacha me cheet'ta ba, Murishani?"

Fett shrugged. "It wasn't me, kid got on the wrong side of the Imps. Just give me what you owe me and he's all yours."

The Gran let Luke's head drop to the floor and wiped his large hand on his clothing with disgust. "Mah bukee do channa shag, do channa poodo cha Jabba rancor."

"That may be," Fett agreed; it was true that the kid in his current state would cost his master a fortune to heal, and the parts dealer could cut his losses by selling the boy to Jabba as a meal for his pet rancor. He shifted his weight, placing his hand on his holster while keeping his eye on the Gran's customer who was watching the exchange with interest and showing no intention of leaving.

But then, Fett realised, it was to his advantage if the man stayed; that way there would be two corpses to leave behind him, one Gran, one human slave.

"What you do with him doesn't concern me, I just want to be paid."

"Pl...e..ase, ma...master..." Luke reached out toward the Gran who flinched back from the touch of a slave.

Fett grinned behind his helmet as the boy played his part, adding to the authenticity of the lie; the kid had been taking it all in. He had guts and, again, he had to wonder at his origins and why Vader wanted him hidden so badly that this ruse was necessary.

"Schutta, kung!" The Gran shouted at the boy, viciously kicking him, catching him in the ribs with an audible crack. The shopkeeper spat on the floor, then turned on Fett announcing, "Mi nobata wamma mah shag. Mah bukee nee choo!"

Fett spared a glance at the prisoner, concerned about the damage done by the kick but powerless to react as the boy gasped, incapable of crying out. "You're right, he will die, but I wasn't responsible for his injuries. I kept him alive for you and expect to be paid in full, plus the medical costs."

The Gran was incredulous, he turned open-mouthed to the waiting and watching customer. It was the moment that Fett had been waiting for. He pulled his blaster and shot the Gran in the back, then caught the human in the chest before he could react. The bounty hunter quickly locked the door and checked the rest of the building, securing the back entrance before checking that the Gran and his customer were dead.

Only once he was satisfied they would not be interrupted did he turn his attention to the boy gasping for breath of the floor.

"Hu...rts..." the boy told him, struggling against the pain to breathe.

"You did good, kid." Fett checked him over, saw the blood flecks that speckled the skin around Luke's nose and mouth when he exhaled. This wasn't good; the Gran's kick had caught the boy's already cracked ribs, possibly puncturing a lung, or worse. Vader's cargo could be living on borrowed time unless he could get him back to the ship and to the medkit.

He needed to move fast. "Hang in there," he told him, knowing his own fate depended on getting his young companion to a proper medical facility alive. If the boy were to die, he knew he'd spend the rest of his life running from Vader.

He hastily emptied one of the larger crates and dragged it onto the repulsor cart. He withdrew his vibroblade and punched a hole in the lid. He then kneeled at Luke's side. "You know what I need to do?"

Luke drew in a short hitched breath, nodded loosely, let it out and hitched in another.

Fett placed his arm under his knees, under his arms, and lifted him from the floor, lowering him into the box, knowing all the while that any movement was agony, any movement could be making the kid's condition worse, could be killing him.

"Just keeping breathing, kid."

Gasping for air Luke's head fell back against the box side as Fett sealed the lid above him, plunging him into a darkness illuminated by a single stream of light from the air hole. It was on that that he focused as he took one agonising breath after another.

Working quickly, Fett searched the shelves until he found the fuel cells he was looking for. He then primed a proton grenade to explode a few minutes after they had left and set it on the shelf among the cells. He returned to the repulsor sledge, activated it and moved it out of the door into the evening twilight.

Just as he crossed the threshold, he looked back and called, "Pleasure doing business with you!"

He was pushing the cart up the ramp of Slave I when an explosion ripped through the market district of Mos Espa.

ooOOoo

"My Lord Vader, the fleet has reverted from hyperspace and we are approaching the Yavin system," Captain Wermis advised from behind his superior's back. "We are awaiting your orders."

Vader gritted his teeth in annoyance; he could see for himself that they were approaching Yavin. The red giant was steadily growing in the view port and hiding behind it was the fourth moon where the Rebel Alliance had secreted themselves.

Not that he expected them to still be there: their command would know that the wrath of Palpatine would be loosed upon them as soon as word reached him about the loss of the Death Star.

No, they and the Princess Organa would have evacuated long ago and all he would be able to do was shift through their trash for clues to their next location.

He wanted to be elsewhere; he wanted to be with his son, the child that he could no longer sense through the Force. It may be the distance between them was now too great, it may be that Luke was succumbing to his injuries, or...

He is safe, Anakin.

The echo of Obi-Wan did little to soothe him, instead it stirred his anger and he turned on Wermis, growling out in frustration, "Spread out the fleet to block escape from the system and prepare for a surface attack."

"As you wish, my Lord." Wermis blanched at the furious tones, bowed and turned away. As he moved to the comm. to relay Vader's orders, he was handed a datapad by a nervous young officer who couldn't seem to stop himself from staring at Vader's back. Annoyed at the interruption Wermis quickly glanced over the information and returned the datapad to the waiting lieutenant.

"See to this yourself," he stated; he had no time to waste for general updates to central command, not when he had an attack to co-ordinate and not when Vader was in such a foul mood.

"Yes, sir." The lieutenant drew himself straight, thrilled at having the responsibility.

"Wait."

The soft rumble from the Dark Lord stopped the young man, and he visibly swallowed the sudden lump of fear that formed at the base of throat.

"Let me see that." Vader held out his hand and took the offered datapad. He glanced through the request from the Naval Command on Imperial Centre. It was a general request for an update on ship operations, there was nothing unusual about it...

... and yet. There was something about it that made him uneasy, something that made the Force buzz with anticipation.

He closed his eyes drawing the Force to him, feeling the power fill him, feeling the tendrils of darkness reach for him, feeling their welcome, their cool embrace. He moved among them, casting each aside as it failed to answer his questions.

You will not find your answers here, Anakin.

He stopped at the gentle warning, the soft tones of his teacher.

You must look elsewhere if you wish to protect your son.

He turned as a spark of light glittered in the darkness. It was tiny, it was barely aglow, it was...

"...your son, Anakin."

... like a flickering flame that would be extinguished with one puff of breath.

"Tread carefully, my friend, one cannot see in darkness."

He opened his eyes, saw Wermis and the lieutenant expectantly waiting on his response. He handed the datapad back to the young officer. He had no doubt that the request had come through Palpatine and it had to be answered. He could only trust that, suspicious though they may be, he had sufficiently explained his movements and that Fett would succeed in protecting his son long enough for the boy to heal and for them to be reunited.

"And then what? Will you smother his light as Palpatine did yours?"

Vader ignored the whisper of...

...hope...

...of a light merely concealed...

...his dead master, dismissed his thoughts and brought his attention to immediate concerns.

"Carry on, captain."

ooOOoo

Once on board his ship Fett had no time to relax or congratulate himself on a successful plan. He abandoned the crate by the hatch as it closed and sealed, immediately going to the cockpit. He cycled the ship through the start-up procedure, skipped over the checklists, and took her into the air.

He had little scope or choice for his next destination. The boy needed a top of the range medical facility to treat his wounds and so Fett instinctively set the co-ordinates for their next destination before dragging himself from the pilot's chair and returning to the box by the hatch.

He popped the lid and heaved out the dead weight of the semi-conscious boy out of the box, manhandling him through the ship to the crew sleeping quarters where he lifted him onto his own bunk. It was the only one on the ship that was also a basic medical bench equipped with oxygen, fluid links and diagnostic tools. He'd had to make use of it himself over the years.

After removing his helmet and discarding it, Fett straightened Luke's body and removed the cuffs from the swollen wrists. He checked for the wrist pulse and smiled at the thin but steady beat. It looked like the fractures were stable.

He quickly replaced the saline transfer feed back into the boy's vein and placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. He switched on the diagnostic scanner and watched with concern as it ran through its program, highlighting for him the same injuries as the portable one had hours earlier. It was the new injury he was more concerned about; the boy's breathing had worsened, was rapid and shallow as he fought for air.

"Shit," Fett cursed as the scanner confirmed his worst fears: a flail chest. A section of rib cage had been broken free and the lung tissue beneath was badly contused; fluid was building in the damaged tissue. "Shit!"

He grabbed the medical kit, withdrew a syrette of powerful analgesic, broke the seal and injected it into his patient's arm. He watched for a reaction, saw the boy's body relax, eyes rolling in his head as the pain killer took effect. Drawing on all of his field medical knowledge and training, Fett grabbed a sealed package of tubes from the kit and prepared to insert a chest drain.

"Stay with me, kid."

ooOOoo

TBC...