Time certainly does fly, Luke.

Two years later, I was sent with Han Solo on a diplomatic mission to Mandalore. (I had been offered to go with Leia to Naboo, but I wasn't ready to set foot back onto the soil from whence I came just yet. Ben went with her, instead).

At nine, I was big enough to sit in the Falcon's co-pilot seat without sliding around, and could even do a few maneuvering tricks with her (under Han's supervision, of course).

When there is a diplomatic mission to Mandalore, the whole planet knows it. Everyone is anxious to see who is going to bit the dust...er, snow. The visiting diplomat most likely has a price on his/her head or someone has a personal vendetta to settle. With that being said, every bounty hunter on the planet could be after them- which doesn't mean much, because all of the Mandalorian Bounty Hunters would be wearing the same armor, and not only the bad people. Good ones, too. They all blended together in a sea of the same style (colors may vary).

The main concern here, was once again, Boba Fett. As I said earlier, he still had a beef with Han, and still craved vengeance. Boba desired blood, pushing his limits of his own moral code.

Instead of Boba Fett, I met my best friend, my first crush, and my protector.

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He was not an assassin. He was a monster. His training was beyond a mercenary or common gun for hire. When he returned to his owners at the end of a job, he was allowed his food, water, and cell. Failure's reward was being stripped naked, beaten, and then tied down to have Sith markings carved into his blue skin. His mistreatment on occasion went even beyond this, and to say he was grossly abused does not even scratch the surface of what his life entailed before we took him.

His DNA makeup was unique: His initial conception consisted of an egg taken from Boba's aunt, Arla Fett (by force), Anakin Skywalker (from the arm Anakin left behind on Geonosis), and his creators sprinkled Selkath DNA through his codes. He was created in a test tube in a lab on Korriban.

He was nine years old as well at this meeting, though he could have passed for 13 or 14. He was Force-sensitive, tall, and very muscular. His name? Jun Motorashi Fett.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\HHan and I reached the Mandalorian surface unharmed, and we disembarked.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary while we were in the hanger, but after we left, I felt like Han and I were being watched. I turned around, but I saw no one. I was not so easily persuaded that all was well.

We started trekking, and the presence was not leaving.

I felt an incoming attack. I shoved Han to the ground, activated my lightsaber and turned, and knocked a dagger from the air.

This was no ordinary dagger. This was hand crafted, Mandalorian iron. Mandalorian iron is one of the most durable materials (especially in metals) in the galaxy. It is expensive, and hand-crafted ones are rare. In my lifetime, I have only seen about maybe twenty-five of them, one of which is in my possession. I inherited the dagger. I wouldn't have been able to cover the expense of a new one without scrimping and saving for years and or selling my lodgings.

What appeared to be a teen aged boy shot angrily from behind a rustic stone structure, his vibroblade held high.

He charged at me. I blocked him with my lightsaber, and he didn't' miss a beat as he tried a few more times to hit me.

Face to face with him, I could examine him.

He had dark blue skin (Selkath blue), jet black hair, and his skin was covered in white scars in the shape of Sith carvings. His eyes were unmistakably blue, an exact shade I had become quite familiar with over the past three years: Skywalker blue.

To look at, he was horrifying, no doubt to inflict fear.

Before another move could be made, he leaped back in a way that could only be accomplished by a Force-sensitive being.

Then I saw generated energy flowing towards me.

I did not recognize such a practice.

I wish I had, because I paid dearly for this lack of knowledge.

The lightening coursed through me, the metal plates in my skull attracted the electricity.

The agony from this can only be described as worse than child bearing, and I should know, because I've had several experiences with that.

When he finally stopped and my head was clearer, I clamored to my feet and took a defensive pose.

He tried to electrocute me again, but I was ready and I used my lightsaber to absorb the energy. When he realized I would not make the same mistake twice, he used a move that I have not seen used by anyone but him.

He screamed.

It wasn't just a scream. It was a blood-curdling, ear damaging scream.

My ears were already damaged, so the sound was unpleasant. I took off my magnets and slid them into my pocket. Han was already on the ground, holding his ears. I hoped they wouldn't suffer the same fate mine had.

After a few more seconds, I decided to end the insanity. I had to stick to my mission: PROTECT HAN SOLO AT ALL COSTS.

While he was screaming, I charged at him and managed to disarm his vibroblade.

As it turns out, that wasn't such a good idea.

He quit screaming and punched me in the face. Hard. (I had extensive facial bruising from his massive fist).

He was vulnerable, so I used my blade to slash at his leg.

Smart, right?

If you answered, "No," you're the winner.

He went down physically, but he raised a hand.

It felt like someone was crushing my throat. I couldn't breathe, cough, or scream. I was helpless and starting to panic.

Han managed to sneak up from behind the boy and strike him on the head with his pistol butt.

Oxygen and nitrogen had never felt so wonderful.

Han started talking, and I re-attached my magnets.

"I wonder who this joker is."

I saw that the "joker" was wearing dog-tags.

I tore them off, and I read," Jun Motorashi Fett. Aged 9. Birthdate..." I read all the information.

"No way he's nine," Han scoffed in disbelief.

"If he were genetically enhanced, it would be possible," I observed, "And he's Force-sensitive. Those powers weren't normal."

"Then we're taking him with us. Let's load him up."

Han decided to proceed to the meeting alone (he swore he wouldn't tell Luke, but that someone needed to guard our new "friend").

Han and I put Jun in the Falcon's med-bay. Han tied him down with the medical restraints, and I bandaged the burn I had made on his leg.

After we had left the hanger and were on our way home, Jun woke with a start and began to panic.

"Jun, you need to calm down," I said in Basic.

He looked at me, his eyes wild with fright.

So I signed the same thing.

He seemed even more confused.

I was just about to say it a third time in Huttese, when he interrupted.

"Gun," he said in Basic.

"I put them in the trash. They were jettisoned before the jump to hyperspace."

Jun started shaking and weeping.

"Jun. Please. I won't hurt you," I said, but he wasn't calming down. If anything, "Jun" seemed to be making him even more uncomfortable.

"Water," he gasped.

I nodded.

Just as I was about to give Jun a drink, Han came back from the cockpit.

"Asenath, there's a transmission from Mon Mothma. She asked directly for you."

I handed Han the glass and groaned inwardly.

My heart beat faster, dreading each step, and not looking forward to the conversation that would take place in the cockpit.

If Mon Mothma wasn't happy, no one was.

"The Mandalorian government just contacted me and said that you kidnapped a guest. You and General Solo were seen loading a body onto your ship. Is this true?"

No one lied to Mon Mothma and got away with it.