Day 29
Nar Shaddaa is a source of inspiration. Conversions no Imperial, or any sane technician, would have thought about are bounce off every shop here. Step one will be to severely shorten the wings of the Foxcatch so she will win a lot of manoeuvrability. Those shuttles move like tranquilized banthas. Or maybe I'm just spoilt from the SlaveI.
It is funny, the more I worked on the Foxcatch, the more I realized just how well I know the Slave. I remembered all her little secrets, the adjustments, enhancements and the million small changes that turned it from a rare prototype into a completely unique vessel. She had more firepower and velocity stashed away than anybody would ever know because I was to sly to have to push her to the limits. The Slave would always be an unknown for my rivals.
It has taken the last three day to have shortened all wings of the shuttle. It will be much easier to manoeuvre. Since it has not been done before, again that will be a big unknown for my competitors. I like to have my adversaries unbalanced.
Sometimes during work, I closed my eyes just to see the Slave. It is strange that I should remember her through working on a different ship, but I already found out that my memory is not the most reliable thing around. I close my eyes and see where I used to live. No wonder I could not remember a flat on Cosruscant.
All the upgrading had slowly eaten into what had once been the living are of the SlaveI. I didn't mind the close quarters, I did not own much. I did not need much. When all you ever need can be packed into a few compartments, your freedom is boundless. Wherever I may roam, wherever I might go, I always had my home with me.
I don't think the Foxcatch will ever be that kind of home to me. And I don't intend to keep it long enough, either. The colouring of the bulkheads feels all wrong, as does the partitioning, and the huge double bed the previous owner had moved in for whatever reasons. But there is no time for changing unimportant details like that. I have already lost more time than I wanted. And the overhaul has only just begun.
It hit me when I was coring the middle wing to make space for some extras. The SlaveI had not always been my ship. She had belonged to my father.
My father.
I could suddenly see him clearly, as if looking into a mirror.
But then, I am the mirror. The exact copy of my father, an unaltered clone of him.
As if being a reflection.
Reflecting - I have done a lot of that lately.
Jango Fett.
He was the missing name in the files, deleted because of his close relationship to the clones. Because, he was the clones, or they were all him. More or less. I wonder how it must have felt to have an army of millions flooding the galaxy who are all you in a way. Altered and remodelled to be soldiers only, but still you. Somehow.
I wonder how it feels to have so many of them still around, images of myself, a little warped, toned down. I have no answer.
He was the teacher.
Yes, the teacher, I remember. All teachers, I remember.
The riddle.
Yes, the riddle.
And the correct answer is: Why?