Author's note: Well…it's the end. I'm really going to miss writing this one. It was a lot of fun. Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing, and I hope to see you next story. ;) Cheers! ~Captain Hilts.
Within the cold, industrial corridors of the Imperial Star Destroyer Minerva, Admiral Voranson waited for the status report. His subordinates watched on almost wearily, knowing how furious he had been. They feared him almost in the same way they feared Lord Vader, knowing their Admiral was worthy of the same discipline. He had their utmost respect and obedience, and rightfully so.
Voranson, a tall lean man with dark hair, had been involved with the Empire since its inception; to be faced with a dilemma such as this was more than embarrassing- he could very well be risking his life.
Prisoners of the Empire were not meant to escape.
The fact that one had managed to do so under his watch was disgraceful. It had only happened the previous day, in the late hours of the evening. Voranson had been alerted of the incident almost instantly, but the search efforts had been fruitless. The Admiral was certain someone on the inside had helped to secure Samuel Luna's escape. What made it worse was the fact that Luna was audacious enough to steal Voranson's personal shuttle.
"Mandalorian scum," he hissed under his breath.
Voranson would have admired the man's tenacity if he had not have been working against the Empire for nearly seven years. And with Luna's daughter still running around with that valuable information, it was even more grating on Voranson's reputation.
"Sir?"
He turned. "What can you tell me, Lieutenant?"
The man hesitated, but only a moment. "I'm sorry, sir, but it appears our security system was hacked in order to allow the illegal departure of your shuttle…unfortunately, we do not know where it was headed."
Voranson pursed his lips and sighed. He gave his Lieutenant a curt nod.
"Very well. At least scan the surveillance screens and find out when the clearance code of my shuttle was used within the fleet. Let's at least try to find where Luna was headed."
"Yes, Admiral."
Voranson dismissed the Lieutenant, heading back to the command deck. He tucked his hands behind his back and stared out at the vast viewports, focusing his stern gaze on the expanse of stars.
Word of Luna's escape had yet to reach Lord Vader, but the Admiral could imagine his reaction. He swallowed hard at the realization, knowing he had to find where Luna was headed before Vader contacted him; it would just be enough to save his life…
"Admiral, sir?"
He turned expectantly, grateful to be snapped from his thoughts.
"Yes, what is it?"
The young Lieutenant looked almost confused.
"Sir...our sensors have picked up a Firespray-class ship. It is awaiting permission to-"
"Allow him to dock with us at once," Voranson interrupted.
The Lieutenant saluted. "Right away, sir."
Voranson trained his eyes back through the forward viewport, spying the familiar outline of the ship he knew as Slave I. If a bounty hunter had come to visit, it meant he had found something important, and with one as skilled and proficient as Boba Fett, Voranson knew it was something critical indeed.
It took mere minutes for Slave I to dock with the Minerva. The Admiral instinctively straightened his posture once the heavy blast door leading to the command deck slid aside, admitting the bounty hunter.
Boba Fett looked as menacing and deadly as ever, one gloved hand still clenching the long EE-3 blaster rifle at his side. His distinctive green armor was pockmarked with more silvery scars and darkened with scoring marks than the previous time Fett and Voranson had met. His boots echoed loudly against the polished floors as he walked closer.
"A pleasure to see you again, Boba Fett," Voranson greeted him, "What brings you this far into the Mid Rim?"
"Business."
The Admiral raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?"
"I have come to collect the bounty for Tinari Luna," Fett said.
There was silence as Voranson took in the importance of that statement. If Fett did have the filthy little urchin, several wrongs could be righted- and Samuel would come back for her. Voranson allowed himself a slight smile and nodded.
"I had heard about the child attracting a lot of attention lately- I congratulate you on a job well done." He took a brief glance around. "Now then…where is she?"
Fett said nothing. The young Admiral simply smiled.
"I cannot pay you unless the child is-"
Voranson barely had time to react as the bounty hunter tossed something to him. It appeared to be an old cloth of some kind, like a cloak. Something was wrapped within it. The Admiral cringed.
"What is this?"
"Open it."
Almost hesitantly, Voranson did so. Surprisingly, it was a group of items: a holoprojector and two familiar information devices…
"I found the child, but she had taken ill- I believe it was some kind of fever," Fett explained, "She died before I could even get her on my ship. Those items were in her possession."
Voranson studied the objects in his palm intently.
"I see…well, that's a shame."
"When do I get paid?" Fett asked.
The Admiral laughed. "You did not bring back the child, bounty hunter."
Fett took a few slow, precise steps forward. He pointed and Voranson flinched.
"Those items are what hold value. She was merely what carrying them. Therefore- you owe me."
"I'm afraid I cannot-"
Fett leaned forward threateningly. "I am not asking, I'm telling you, Admiral. No creature has ever cheated me out of my credits and lived to tell about it."
Voranson attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. The hunter in Mandalorian armor had gotten dangerously close, his fingers tensing over the trigger of the blaster rifle. The braided Wookie scalps that hung from his right shoulder brushed the front of Voranson's uniform. He managed a short laugh and cleared his throat.
"Well…I wouldn't even think to cheat you out of anything, Boba Fett…"
Five-hundred thousand credits. He couldn't remember the last time such an amount had been deposited into his personal account.
Not that it troubled him.
Slave I had left the Minerva and its miserably arrogant Admiral behind. All that lay before Boba Fett and his ship was the infinite vista of stars. As he set the conditions for autopilot, he caught a peculiar shape on the transparisteel of the viewport: markings of lopsided hearts. Fett smirked beneath his helmet.
Amazingly, he found himself aware that he was actually going to miss Tinari, the little thief whom he had first found hidden in the narrow spaces of his ship. A little girl who asked nothing but questions he didn't or couldn't answer; one who had caused him more than enough trouble, who had reminded him of his forgotten culture and childhood. It would take some getting used to, not having a pint-sized co-pilot brimming with energy, who referred to one of Fett's greatest rivals as a childish 'monster.'
He was going to miss her.
Fett turned in his seat, digging into his pocket to find the small necklace she had given him. He inspected the jewel as he opened the nearby storage locker containing the book his father had given him so long ago. Gently, he set the necklace atop it, remembering what Tinari had said about it protecting travelers. Now he had two items to help him, should he ever need it.
Just as he closed the compartment, something beeped for his attention on the control panel. Fett slumped back into the captain's chair and brought up the message on the computer screen. Jabba the Hutt had requested his presence on Tatooine; he would be paid for his trouble, of course. The message did not say much other than that, but Fett could tell it would be something worthwhile.
With a slight sigh, he set coordinates for the desert world into the navicomputer and the stars elongated through the viewport. Once into the quiet of hyperspace, he reached for the small, circular object that had been sitting on the control panel- the one thing he hadn't given to Voranson.
Though he was no Jedi, Boba Fett would find a way to open the holocron. Thoughtfully, he rolled it in his palm, turning it over with his fingers. It was a long journey to Tatooine, but that gave him plenty of time.
He always saved the best mysteries for himself.
