Geonosis: Planetary Rings

A few hours later

Number two; a bounty hunter must always be ready to go anywhere and face any danger.

The planet loomed ahead through the cloud of asteroids; huge, and red as rust. Boba looked up at it every so often, allowing himself to stare for a few seconds, before lowering his gaze again to concentrate on piloting the ship. He couldn't look away from the console for too long; moving through the asteroid field needed his full attention. The task would be tricky enough even without the... clumsiness affecting him.

Geonosis was only a short distance from Tatooine. It felt like barely any time had passed since he had left Docking Bay 17 in Mos Eisley. It had taken a couple of hours at most to make the journey. He'd pulled out of hyperspace early, which was necessary to negotiate the asteroid field, but also (he hated to admit it) to give himself time to prepare. It had been a long time since he'd been back.

This wasn't the first time, though. He'd had several missions here over the years, but somehow had always managed to avoid that part of the planet. Like the Duros had said, it was a ruin now. There was no reason for anyone to go there, especially him. But Coral and her freykaa had chosen it as their hiding place, and he had no choice but to follow them.

He would have willingly followed anywhere else. The Pit of Carkoon, anywhere. He didn't want to go back. The dream made it feel like he had only just been there. Somehow it felt like he'd left Geonosis instead of Coruscant, when he'd awoken in her bed however many hours ago it was. He'd lost track.

He felt tired, and disorientated. Hardly the ideal mindset to confront the two Twi'leks. He considered staying amongst the asteroids for a couple of hours, switching off all power but the life-support systems, and just resting. He could feel exhaustion threatening him, snapping at the edge of his conscious mind. He'd come a long way in a few hours, from Coruscant, via Gorga and Docking Bay 17, to here. The temptation to stay, and sleep, was real.

But it was out of the question. He had to find Coral. He couldn't afford to waste any more time. They could have been tipped off to his pursuit already.

He wondered if leaving the Duros alive would prove to be a mistake. He hadn't been thinking straight, not after the captain had told him where Coral was. He'd just turned and left him standing in the docking bay, with his scattered shipment and two stunned droids.

If anyone was going to warn the Twi'leks, it would be the Duros. He had admitted as much to Boba; he cared for Coral. Sweet kid, he'd called her. But at the same time Boba sensed that the alien captain had been suitably intimidated not to try anything further. He seemed fearful of repercussions from the Hutts.

But still, it didn't mean the Twi'leks would be easy prey. He had no idea what he was facing. Even if they didn't know they were being hunted, they could have prepared themselves for attack anyway. They could have any number of weapons by now. They could have been joined by others. He could be walking into an ambush.

You're over-thinking this. They're two scared kids.

He'd piloted through the densest cluster of the asteroids. The rocks were shrinking in size around the ship as it crept closer to the planet; now just stones and pebbles rotating gently in the vacuum, small enough to hold in his hand.

Eventually there was nothing blocking his view of Geonosis. It seemed larger, and brighter, than before.

That's your imagination. Concentrate.

To help him focus, he repeated the second line of the Code in his mind. The Code; the set of twenty instructions left for him by his father. The rules for the life of a bounty hunter. The second of them had been running through his head like a siren the whole distance from Tatooine. Go anywhere and face any danger.

This was the place he'd first needed the Code. It ran deeper than the other things left to him by his father. The ship was his home and the armour his face, but the Code was as much a part of him as his bones. Of the three, he knew which he cherished most. The first two were fragile, and finite; the ship had been stolen a few times, the armour scarred and dented, but the Code was something he could never lose.

And it was the thing that would help him the most to hunt for the Twi'lek girl. Now, more than ever, he needed it to overcome the weaknesses plaguing him since Trangor Prime.

He forced himself to look back at the control panel. With more care than he'd normally use, he extended the acceleration lever. It was safe to do so, now that he was clear of the asteroid belt. The ship sped on, descending towards the red planet.

Number seven; life feeds on death.

The droid foundry was not as he remembered. It was darkened now, and wildly overgrown, but the most striking difference was the silence. The noise generated from the huge machines and miles of conveyor belts was his clearest memory of the place. He was surprised at how much else he could remember though, now he was here. He hadn't let himself think of this place too often.

They'd toured the foundry when they arrived from Kamino, all those years ago. It had been late by the time they landed but he hadn't been tired; he was excited after the starfight with Kenobi, and proud to walk through the rows of machines with his father, guests of the spindly insectoid Archduke and Count Dooku. At the time, he hadn't understood what had happened on Kamino, not really. 'We're leaving', that was all that was said. It was an adventure to him; he hadn't understood that it meant they were leaving for good and there was no way they could go back. Despite all that happened afterwards, on Geonosis, some small part of him had still expected to go home.

Dooku had explained the assembly process, as they walked beneath the lines of droids suspended above them, dancing through the air in varying stages of construction. Boba remembered listening to the old Count's voice, raised so they could hear him above the thunder of the factory. Despite the noise, and heat from the furnaces, a rhythm underpinned the whole foundry; Boba hadn't needed Dooku's narration to understand that. There was organisation, behind the criss-crossing belts and deafening sound of metal beating on metal. There was a process, he remembered Dooku using that word. That was what made droids superior. They followed instruction; they never let themselves be distracted by the chaos of the foundry. Biological life forms were usually overwhelmed by this place, but never droids.

There was no chaos anymore, Boba thought, as he stepped through the deactivated machines. They stood silent, and secretive as tombs. It was hard to believe that it was only twenty years or so since they had been shut down; looking around this place, it could easily have been a thousand years ago.

Boba turned his attention to the scanner in his hand. The Count had been wrong, in the end. Biological life ruled again in here. It overwhelmed the defunct machines now. Moss and lichen, brambles and thorns, all had grown up around the machines since their deactivation. Animals too, had made this place their home. He could hear them skittering about in the gloom, just beyond his peripheral vision. Once or twice he caught a glimpse of one; little arachnid creatures similar to the bug-like Geonosians. They ran away from his echoing footsteps if he came too close, back into the shadows.

He had hoped to use the scanner to find the Twi'leks, but there was too much other life in here now for it to locate them. He'd have to do it the old fashioned way.

Number fourteen; imagination is a warrior's most important weapon.

He found them. It had taken longer without the scanner, but not much. He'd just had to think more rationally.

First he'd found stairs; overgrown and fallen into disrepair like everything else. He'd ascended as quietly as he could, treading lightly on the narrow strips of metal and taking care to not lose his footing where the steps had fallen away. The staircase rose, as he'd hoped, high above the foundry floor. It led on to a walkway, stretching ahead further than he could see into the darkened recesses of the factory. It was an excellent vantage point. He began to patrol, stepping as quietly as he could along the wire-mesh platform.

From there, finding the Twi'leks had taken minutes.

They'd made their camp in a massive smelting pot, turned over on its side. A row of them hung from hooks on a belt opposite Boba's walkway; this one must have smashed to the ground at some point. Perhaps on purpose, or maybe the hook had just decayed to rust over the years. It didn't matter.

The Twi'leks were asleep in the overturned pot, curled up together. Boba could see the remains of a fire just in front of them. He recognised Coral immediately, her pale pink colouring exactly as Ding had described back at the Desijilic complex. The other Twi'lek was a bone white female. She looked a few years older than Coral, and lay wrapped around her protectively. It was clear she was the freykaa.

Not what he had expected.

Boba swept over the scene of the camp again, the telescopic sight in his visor magnifying it for him. He could see one blaster; in a holster on the white Twi'lek's hip. That didn't mean it was the only weapon, though. He considered his options.

Kill the freykaa? Or stun her? Gorga had given no instruction as to that, or if he had, Ding had omitted from telling him. Boba's only goal was to return Coral to Tatooine. A clearer mission would have made things easier, but Gorga had only given him a few words:

"I don't care how you get her, but I want her alive, and in one piece."

Coral was the target. Coral was to be kept alive, at all costs, that was Gorga's explicit demand. But her freykaa's fate was up to him.

Kill her. She's a complication.

Stun her. She's innocent.

He stood there, surveying the sleeping Twi'leks for some minutes, and thumbing between the power settings on his blaster as he went back and forth in his mind.

You left the Duros alive.

The Duros wouldn't try anything else.

All she did was rescue her mate.

Who belongs to a Hutt.

He knew that, left alive, the freykaa would try to rescue Coral again. And next time she might not succeed. If she was caught by the Gamorreans, she would die, and perhaps Coral too. She would die a worse death at their hands. It was better to do it now.

They're in love.

He didn't know what setting the blaster was on now. He'd pressed the button too many times. He didn't check, but raised the rifle to shoot. He couldn't decide. He would accept either outcome. His only hope was the shot didn't miss.

He squeezed the trigger. His aim was accurate, which surprised him, but at the sound of the blaster fire the white Twi'lek rolled backwards, at the same time pushing Coral out of the path of the shot. The bolt hit the side of the pot where they had been lying moments before, leaving a blackened crater in the metal.

The rifle had not been set to stun.

"Go!" the freykaa shouted in Basic, now on her feet. Clearly they had only been pretending to sleep. Had they been tipped off by the Duros that they were being hunted? Or had they just heard his footsteps approaching? It didn't matter. He preferred it this way.

Coral was up too, scrambling out of the overturned pot and sprinting away into the shadows of the foundry. He tracked her with the rifle, switching the setting back to stun as he did so, but before he could get a clear shot the other Twi'lek opened fire.

Her aim was good, too, but he anticipated the shots. He skipped back, the laser bolts sparking against the metal railings of the catwalk in front of him. He ran along the suspended walkway towards the shadows at the end, his boots and the blaster shots resonating against the metal in a ringing cacophony. For a moment it sounded as if someone had turned the machines back on.

Coral was getting away, and Boba felt a stab of frustration that he had to let her go, for the moment. But having them separate was to his advantage.

As he reached the end of the walkway, the other Twi'lek stopped shooting. The foundry fell silent once more. He was now out of sight, but so too was his prey. He paused, the shadows wrapped around him, and considered his next move.

Unlike the other end of the walkway there was no staircase here, and no other way down that he could see. He could easily drop with the jetpack, but was reluctant to do so without knowing where the freykaa was; he'd be an easy target for her shooting.

Instead he began to itemize the other weapons he had at his disposal. There was a small arsenal concealed within his armour, and he assessed which of it would be of most use. Before he reached a decision, however, a woman's voice rang out from below him, echoing through the dilapidated machinery.

"You'll never take us alive, parasite." The Twi'lek's voice was low, and calm. Boba did not look around for her. Instead he took a hand from his rifle and brought it up to the side of his helmet, slowly. He brushed his gloved fingers against a concealed button. A motion sensor system was installed, and he would be able to follow the sound of her voice with it. Now shots had been fired, any wildlife should have been scared away, and would not interfere with the signal.

He crept forwards along the catwalk again, a series of clicks in his ear indicating how close he was getting to the freykaa.

"We knew Gorga would send your kind after us. You're nothing but a leech, feeding on the blood of my people."

The clicks intensified at the sound of her voice. She was almost directly below him, somewhere underneath the platform. Slowly, he unclipped a pouch on his belt, and reached inside for a thermal grenade. These were his own modified devices; more delicate than standard detonators, light and compact, intended to serve as distractions more than anything.

He armed the grenade with a tap of his finger and in the same motion flicked it over the edge of the platform, watching as it floated down into the gloom below. He readied himself.

The grenade detonated beneath him, the explosion flashing and booming through the desolate machinery. There was a scream from below, and a wild flurry of blaster fire. Boba stepped backwards, off the platform, freefalling until he was barely two metres from the floor, then finally using the jetpack to land.

The freykaa was in front of him. As he'd anticipated, she was facing the source of the explosion, her blaster raised and her back to him.

Taking no chances with the rifle this time, Boba raised his wrist gauntlet and fired the fibrecord restraint. It whipped around her torso in a spiral, knocking the blaster from her raised arm as it ensnared her. She screamed again, a howl of despair and frustration, and struggled futilely as he reeled the cable back into the gauntlet.

A plan was now formed in his mind. He would leave her here, bound, and collect Coral. Then, he would deliver them both to Gorga, and let the Hutt decide their fate. He could even ask for double the fee, as he was bringing two Twi'leks instead of one.

He almost smiled at that, behind the visor. But at the same time he was aware that not even a month ago there would have been no question over the spare Twi'lek. He would have disintegrated her without hesitation.

"I told you, parasite, we will not be taken to Gorga." The Twi'lek spat at him. She was now barely a meter away. Her eyes glittered oddly in the darkness, and Boba noticed for the first time she held something else. The blaster had been knocked clear from her raised arm, but this had been held in her other hand, and she clutched it tightly. It took him a moment longer than usual to understand what it was.

"I'll take you with me." She smiled a terrible smile, and armed her own detonator with a flick of her thumb, just as he had moments ago.

Time slowed. She bounded forwards to close the last meter of space between them. Boba reached to release the cord, still attached to his gauntlet. He managed to disconnect the mechanism as the thermal detonator exploded. He threw himself backwards, helped by the jetpack at first and then the force of the explosion took over, hurling him away through the air. He hit the ground hard, crashing and rolling through scrap metal and the other detritus littering the foundry floor.

Dazed, he managed to raise his head enough to look back at the place he had been thrown from. The freykaa's device had been a real thermal detonator. There was now a crater where she had stood, and nothing else.

"Lyssa?" A panicked voice called out. It was Coral.

Boba, still half crouched on the floor, turned towards the sound of her voice. Incredibly, he was almost angry at the girl. Her freykaa's sacrifice had been for nothing; Coral hadn't even tried to escape while he was distracted fighting the other Twi'lek.

"Lyssa!?" She called out again. Her voice sounded almost choked with tears. Boba clambered upright. The blast from the detonator still rang through the machinery, though he was protected from any lasting hearing damage by sound dampeners in his helmet.

As he began moving towards the sound of her voice, the note ringing through the machinery changed, deepening and rumbling into a low boom. He stopped. Again, he seemed to understand what was happening in slow motion, as he watched rust shower down from the railings and girders above him. The whole factory began to creak, a dreadful ominous tremble running from the roof of the cavern high above, shivering down through the machines to the ground beneath his feet. The place was going to cave in. The detonator explosions had destabilised it.

He should have expected it. He stood for just a moment longer, amazed at his own short-sightedness, as rust cascaded around him like rainfall.

Then he began to run.

Number fifteen; a bounty hunter never gets distracted by the big picture. He knows it's the little things that count.

Coral was ahead of him, running through clouds of dust. He sprinted after her, his lungs feeling on fire, his legs clumsy and heavy. He didn't know if he was chasing her, or just fleeing the collapse of the foundry.

The machines were falling unseen around them, shrouded in dust. Coral was barely twenty meters ahead of him. He was so close to catching her, but he couldn't risk his two main weapons. There was no way to get a clear shot as she weaved through old machinery, and the dust made it impossible to use the jetpack. It would be too dangerous. He could only chase after her, on foot.

They reached a place where metal merged into rock, the machines seamlessly joining to the walls of the cavern the foundry sat within. Coral did not slow, but raced into a fissure in the wall ahead. There was a cave system all around this place, he knew. Coral had more recent experience of this place, and she would know it better. He didn't dare drop his speed. She could lose him in there.

Even so, when he reached the crevice himself, the urge to look back at the foundry was irresistible.

Above the billowing dust, the machines were toppling. He could hear them smashing against each other, the metal squealing and scraping as they fell. The whole cavern was crumbling now. Jagged chunks were crashing down from above, burying the machines in fallen rock. Boba watched for a moment longer, before dragging himself away. He could not lose Coral.

He darted into the fissure. It was pitch black inside, but it made no difference to him; the visor switched to infrared automatically. He stopped, breathing harder than he would have expected, and assessed the cave.

In front of him was a single narrow passage. He followed it, raising the rifle as he did so. There were no other openings leading off into the catacombs, as he had expected. Coral had chosen a poor hiding place. She might know this place better than him, but she was still just a kid. She'd panicked. She was alone now and she was scared. More than that; terrified. He had to use it to his advantage.

He'd been too cautious so far; he had overestimated both Twi'leks. It was time to take control of the situation. He slowed his pace. There was no need to run now. Coral was somewhere ahead of him, but she could not see in the darkness, as he could. She could only hide in here. He would find her eventually.

He could hear footsteps echoing back from ahead of him. They were slowing down too. The passage suddenly began to climb steeply, lightening as he moved along. The cave was a dusky red now around him, the air clear enough that the visor had switched back to its normal sight. Were they coming out into the open? Even though she had nowhere to run in here, outside was a different story. He sped up again, and began to ascend.

He was close to her now; ahead he could hear her breathing. She had slowed to almost walking pace. This business was almost at an end. Soon he would reach her, and subdue her, and take her back to Gorga. And leave this place for good. Just for a moment, the thought darted through his mind. You didn't have to go all the way back, at least.

Without noticing, he had reached the end of the passageway. As he stood at the threshold he realised where he was. A weight of dread settled in his stomach. He barely registered Coral stood ahead of him, shivering in the evening air. He had fooled himself. All the way back.

They had emerged at the back of a wide stone balcony, coloured crimson in the moonlight. He had stood in this place, before, and watched as a lightsaber was held to his father's throat. A sideshow, as Windu and Dooku exchanged insults.

The arena lay before him.

He had forgotten Coral, forgotten his purpose for being there, until she spoke.

"You're too late." Her voice was delicate. He turned to her, seeing her close up for the first time since finding her in the foundry.

She was just a girl. Her pale pink face was in deep shadow, but it still had the clarity of youth. She was beautiful, he supposed, but so young. There were only hints of curves at her hips and her chest. She was only a child, still.

Boba felt disgusted, suddenly, that Gorga could want her, that anyone could, even the other Twi'lek who had brought her here. She was just a girl.

"You're too late." She repeated. She was stood with her back pressed against the low wall that enclosed the balcony. He remembered how he could barely see over it, the last time he was there.

"You took everything from us. Do you know that?" She shivered again, and crossed her arms around her torso.

Her words brought him back to himself. He'd caught her, and cornered her finally. Finish the job.

Number ten; say no more than necessary.

But instead he surprised himself, and spoke.

"Your friend killed herself, before the cave-in." He almost added I'm sorry, but held the words back.

Coral shrugged her narrow shoulders. "She was dead before. Since the day the slavers took her family. We only had each other, until they came back for me." She raised her chin as she spoke, like a defiant child. "She rescued me, like she promised."

Boba found himself wondering if they were lovers, as he'd presumed, or sisters? He wanted to ask, but again, the words were stuck. What did it matter, anyway?

"We knew we wouldn't get far from Gorga. So we agreed..." Her small smile was an apology. "We had these last two days."

In the red light she looked ageless; far older than her sixteen years, but her every gesture was child-like. She turned away from him, and rested her hands on the balcony wall. Boba watched as she pushed herself up onto it.

He knew what she intended to do, and he stepped forward, the rifle raised.

"Get down."

She looked over her shoulder at him.

"Gorga wants me back alive. You can't shoot."

She was right. He felt his heartbeat increasing. "It's set to stun." He lied.

"I'll fall, either way. I'll see Lyssa again." She said the words a third time. "You're too late."

She stepped forward into empty air.

Number nineteen; watch out for things that go too well.

Incredibly, when he found her on the dark arena floor, Coral was still alive.

He'd tried to catch her, reaching across to fire the fibrecord from his wrist, but he remembered too late that it was gone; it had been wrapped around the other Twi'lek when she set off her detonator. He could only watch, powerless, as Coral fell.

He'd vaulted onto the edge of the balcony then, and looked over for her. The darkness of the arena had swallowed her. The sands far below looked like a black ocean. She hadn't screamed.

He had no choice but to follow her, stepping lightly from the wall and again breaking his descent with the jetpack.

The sand was soft beneath his boots, and thick enough to dampen the sound of his footsteps. He saw that the arena, too, had grown wild; out of the darkness around him scrubby bushes and fallen rocks appeared, littering the ground. It was almost silent in the red moonlight, except he could hear rapid breathing not far from him.

When he followed the sound he found her; a shape in the darkness. From one look he knew she would not survive long. Her small body was wrecked, limbs twisted to odd angles. Her chest rose and fell shallowly. Blood ran from her nostrils and the corners of her mouth.

He crouched down beside her. The pulse still beat under her jaw, but it was weak. She did not flinch away. Instead her eyes flicked up to him, pupils dilated to deep black circles. He could see his visor reflected within them.

She had strength enough to speak, though her voice was a thin whisper. "I wanted... the fall..."

She gasped a few times. Boba said nothing.

"Will you shoot me?" She whispered again.

"Gorga..." He hated the words but forced them out. "Gorga wants you alive."

Coral managed to smile. Despite her ruined form, despite the lines of blood striping her face, she looked beautiful. "I'll die here." Her voice was so faint. "Quicker if you help."

She was right. She would live perhaps another five or ten minutes, whatever he did. There was no way to return her to Tatooine. The hunt was over.

He nodded.

"Before..." She spoke again. "Take that off." Her eyes flicked over him once more, and he realised she meant the helmet. He stood, considering, as she lay broken before him. Then he raised his free hand, and unclasped the fastening. His fingers did not fumble.

He slid the helmet off, and stooped to rest it on the sand at his feet. The night air was cool on his face, though the arena smelled of decay. Her eyes ran back and forth across his face, examining. She did not say anything.

Her breathing was slowing, visibly. Her strength was ebbing away now, faster than he'd thought. She had much less than ten minutes. But he would not leave her to die. She'd asked it of him, to help her, and he'd agreed.

He met her eyes for a moment longer. Then he raised the rifle. She did not look away.

Number twenty; if you must die, do so with valour.

His shadow stretched before him again, spilling into the half-filled hole in the sand. The Slave I sat in a clear space behind him, its powerful spotlights illuminating the arena. He had summoned the ship on autopilot; he needed its light, and tools.

The shovel in his hands was what he wanted more than anything. It was light and sharp, made of bright plastisteel, ideal for digging. He was done with it for that part, though. Now he was using it to scoop sand back into the hole.

He turned back, mechanical, to the mound of disturbed sand. It had been mixed with clay the deeper he had dug, and wet clumps clung to the blade. He shook them clear, and pushed it into the pile for another load. He could no longer see Coral. She was down deep. He had rested flat rocks over her, before any sand, to ensure she would not be disturbed by the wildlife.

The remaining pile was still large, even though the hole was over halfway full. Last time he'd done this, it had puzzled him. But then, he'd been a scared boy, alone and in shock, unable to think clearly. Everything about that day had been unreal, the digging included. It was like the sensation from a nightmare; you try to run but cannot move, you try to scream but make no sound. You dig and dig, but the mound of sand next to you gets no less.

He'd thought that if it could, if he managed to push all the sand back into the earth, things could go back to the way they were. He could fix what had happened. He almost shook his head. Just a scared kid. Now he understood.

Air gets into the soil, in the act of digging it up. It expands. It becomes more than it was. It won't go back, no matter how hard you try. You just have to do what you can with what's left over.

The sky above him was lightening, as he continued to work. Tendrils of pink and orange were growing along the horizon, taking root in the edges of the blue-black. He thought of Fornia. He couldn't help it.

When he'd left her, he imagined that he would be able to step straight back into his old life, as if the time spent on Coruscant was nothing more than dust he could brush away. But he'd been lying to himself. He could admit it now, as he turned for another shovel of sand. He hadn't left her at all; instead she'd come with him.

She was there. He could sense her, stood high on the arena steps, looking down, watching as he buried the dead girl. She'd stood in his past, and he in hers. He couldn't see Kamino without her, holding his hand in a white corridor. She was waiting in the arena in his mind's eye, ready to comfort him when he fell to his knees before her.

And, he realised, it would be the same for her. He's there in her mind, when she tells Dengar to race Solo. He's with her in the forest to witness Dengar murder her co-pilot.

He wondered what she had been doing since he left. How much time had passed on Coruscant? Was it day or night there? He was too tired to work it out. It was difficult to imagine any time passing; he could only see her at the moment he left, asleep with red puffy eyes, her hair an inky spill on the pillows. He knew she'd gone from there, got up, moved around the apartment, left. Gone to Dengar and told him everything, perhaps. But he couldn't picture it. For now she stayed asleep. She'll sleep, until he goes back and sees how she has awoken.

His mind turned, as he cut through the sand with a twist of the shovel's handle. He remembered other times, with other women. Girls who looked like Coral, when he was barely more than a boy. Aliens, because he found himself in their company most often. Dancers, courtesans, glittering beautiful brittle creatures in crime lord's palaces, in pleasure houses. Not many humans. It was easier to distance yourself from it, with an alien woman.

He never asked for them though, and refused any sent to him (a misconstrued gift from Jabba, or others like him). He only took those who sought him out, who offered. But he sensed they wanted more than just the physical. His reputation preceded him; maybe they thought he would protect them, or free them from their masters. That was never realistic. He was not selfless. Despite what some might think, despite the wilder rumours about him, he was still a man; he wasn't going to say no.

Sometimes, and he wasn't proud of it, he kept the armour on, for other girls. Most of it. That was who they wanted to see, and who he wanted them to see, too.

But Fornia, he realised, Fornia had never seen him wear it. She'd only known his real face. The only time he'd worn his armour inside her apartment was the morning before he had left.

With her it was different. Everything was different. She'd never been interested in his reputation, and she didn't expect anything of him, other than to be there with her and endure the darkness and the dreams.

He'd wanted to please her. That had never been something he worried much about before. No point with a courtesan; they were used to faking it anyway.

Their first time, that night, had been over too fast. He sensed it had been a while for both of them. Afterwards, they had gazed at each other through the darkness, with only the sound of their breathing to break the silence.

He must have fallen asleep, briefly, because he awoke to find her curled beside him, warm where her skin touched his. She was awake, and looking at him, propped up on one elbow. When she saw he was awake, she had kissed him, lightly. Their kisses up till then had only been heated, but this was different. It was almost... innocent.

He'd returned it, pushing her over, back onto the pillows. Then he'd broken away, as she had done when they'd first kissed on the balcony. Their eyes had met, and he tried to convey it, wordlessly, what he meant to do... He wanted her to understand.

She did.

And he'd kissed her again, down along her throat, across her breasts, her stomach, down to where he could taste himself on her...

That had been a first. He didn't know why he'd done it; he just wanted to please her.

This was no place to be thinking about it. But in truth, it was all he had been thinking of, these last two days. Watching their lithe bodies as he spoke to the dancer girls at Gorga's, he could only think how they weren't her. Seeing Coral intertwined with her freykaa, before he ambushed them, only made him remember waking up with her curled around him.

Coral was dead, lying in a hole in the ground in front of him. The second grave he'd dug in this place. The digging had been easier this time around, with the shovel and the Slave I to help. He'd had just his hands to do it last time, and bits of broken droids from the battle. When he'd finished, his hands had been raw and red. The dirt of the arena floor had turned his fingernails black and stained the creases in his palms with dust. His shoulders and neck ached from the work, and sweat stung in his eyes when he tried to rub them clean.

His gloves were dusty this time around, but that was all. And Coral had been far easier to carry.

Number six; the bounty hunter is free of attachments.

His work with Coral was done. The hole he'd made for her had transformed back into sand. The only indication of what had happened was a small raised bump at his feet. He smoothed the earth over her for a final time with the flat of the shovel, and turned away to trudge back to his ship.

He laid the shovel down on the entry ramp, and glanced back at the arena. He was finished. Burying Coral had given him a purpose, for an hour or so. But now what?

The sky had become light enough to render the Slave I's spotlights unnecessary. He could see much further back into the arena now. He could see well enough to pick out another mound of earth, on the far side. He'd made that one too, a long time ago.

He'd never returned to it. Never allowed himself to come this far back. No attachments.

He almost laughed. No attachments. He'd never lived up to that one.

His armour, his ship; what were they if not attachments? If he lost them, if they were taken from him, as both had been, was he supposed to just let them go?

Impossible.

It did make sense, he had always understood that. It meant you had no one to worry about, and no one would worry about you. No one could be used against you. No one left behind if you died. It was a good rule to live by, if you could. But who could, really? Droids, maybe. The Jedi used to live like that. And it had lead to their destruction, at least until Skywalker came along.

It was time to stop lying to himself. Not even his father had lived up to it. What was I, if not an attachment?

He'd broken so many of his rules, in pursuit of the Twi'leks. What was one more? He walked away from his ship, past Coral, slowly over to his father's grave.

When he reached it, he found standing to be too difficult. He was at the point of exhaustion. He hadn't slept, hadn't eaten, had fought and fled through the foundry and then dug up sand for an hour. He fell to his knees at the edge of the grave, as he had in his dream.

He forced himself to look at it. He was ashamed to think he had looked away in the dream, had made Fornia watch instead. And she had the strength, afterward, to comfort him.

Coral and Lyssa too had proven their bravery over his; both Twi'leks had faced their deaths with honour. He had only shown weakness.

The thoughts ran through his mind like floodwater, muddied and fast. He shook his head.

He'd failed Gorga. That was a first, and he knew there would be repercussions for doing so. But he found himself oddly detached from it. It was worse to have failed Fornia.

He shouldn't have left like that, without even waking her. That had been cowardly. She deserved better than that.

He shouldn't have left her at all.

Number thirteen; do that which you fear most, and you will find the courage you seek.