04

OLD FACES

With less than an hour before his appointed meeting with his employer, Hondo Ohnaka, Jaster made his way back to the landing lot. His initially paid for hour was up and soon would be owing an extra ten credits that he would rather not spend. Looking around the trading post, there were a few precarious places where he could relocate his ship to in order to avoid paying any more. As he made his way back down the road to the edge of the post, his helmeted head was slightly bowed with his eyes just feet out in front of his own steps. His attention was not on anything around him, in fact his mind was far distant from the present. His visit with Bossk was a shot back to his past that he'd have preferred to be left alone.

The image of Aurra Sing's face would not leave his mind. He recalled quite clearly the day eleven years ago that he first met her. He remembered how alone he felt in the safehouse in Nar Shaddaa. It was one of two places that Jango Fett had drilled into him to go in the event of his death. Jaster had followed his instruction there waiting for him in the small unimpressive apartment was a data pad with four contacts. Count Dooku, Zam Wessel, Kal Skiratta and Aurra Sing.

Jaster remembered his train of thought as an abandoned nine year old. Only two of the names were people he knew personally, one of which, Zam Wessel, he knew to be dead. Even after eleven years, that one still hurt. Zam was something of a figure to the young boy that Jango Fett could never be. The Clawdite had been more than just a bounty hunter and an associate of Jango's, she was a friend to the young boy, quick to play with and tease him.

Jaster remembered thinking his options were limited. He reached out to Count Dooku. He wasn't surprised he couldn't reach him. Jaster was there on Geonosiss. He knew the mess that the Count no doubt was in. For a month he tried to contact him before giving up and trying someone else. Between the two viable options available to him, he contacted Aurra Sing.

Days later and they met face to face. Young Jaster didn't know quite what to expect. Deep down inside, he had hoped that she would be like Zam. Jaster scoffed at his younger self's naivety. The Palliduvan was far from it. But that didn't matter. She had saved him and promised to help him achieve the only thing he desired for that long, lonely month-Revenge.

It was here on Florrum where his and Aurra Sing's plan came to fruition to lure in the Jedi Master Mace Windu. It was also the site of their failure. Jaster had been captured by the Jedi and Aurra for the first time in the year she took him in, abandoned him. As cold as she was, Jaster had strangely felt safe around her, he could trust her. On that day he learned differently. She abandoned him to the Jedi and tried to steal his ship, left to him by Jango Fett. If there was anything from his past that he wished he could have back, among all the people Jaster had ever had in his life, it was that ship. The Slave 1. It had become an omen in the galaxy. Young Jaster had logged many hours piloting the Firespray patrolling craft and climbing through every crawlspace it had to offer.

Approaching the fence to the lot at the edge of the trading post, Jaster sighed. Slave 1 was not waiting for him in the lot. As he approached the pad where he had left his ship, he stopped in his tracks.

"What the hell?" he growled behind his helmet. The plating of his G-400's hull was scattered about the pad. Sparks burst from the inner machinery and wiring, pulled out of their housing like the gore of organs torn from a body. The entire starboard engine had been disconnected from the wing with components discarded in the sand. Squat maintenance droids waddled about busily, completely unaware of the man heaving and muttering under his breath. From down the row of ships, the Weequay facilitator approached, the Akk dogs still leashed in his hands.

"Aw there you are. Just in time, your hour is up and now it will be an extra ten credits."

"What have you done to my ship?" Jaster shook as he spoke. The Weequay turned his leather-faced head to the disarrayed Starfighter.

"Aw yes! There was a leak in the fuel cell. So lucky we found it in time. One jump and KABOOM—you're space dust!"

The smile on the Weequay's face heightened Jaster's anger. "Put it back together, now!"

From behind, a familiarly scratchy, jovial voice called out. "Such unappreciation for saving your life. You should be thanking us! I'd have thought your father had taught you better." Jaster turned around to find another Weequay walking up to him with his gnarled, leathery hands flailing over his head. A long dingy, red coat skirted his ankles plastered by the dust of the sulfurous desert. Two long braids of silvering hair hung from the back of his head which was covered by a shell-like helmet. Over his eyes were green lensed riding goggles, transparent enough to still read the eccentric enthusiasm of the old pirate.

"Hondo."

"Well look at you!" Hondo laughed as he slapped Jaster on the shoulder. "All grown up now, what has it been, five years?"

"Ten," Jaster said shortly.

"Hondo tapped his chin blankly. "Hmm, time sure flies when you're wasting away and the galaxy's gone to chizk."

Jaster looked back at the other Weequay. "You, put my ship back together, now."

"Yes, yes, yes, do that. Put it all back together for my dear friend, Boba," Hondo said, shooing him away and throwing his arm over the young man's shoulders. "Come! Let us do business while your ship gets put back together. But first, we drink!"

Down at the far end of the lane of the lot opposite the gate was a small building serving as an office. As they made their way past the various ships, Hondo went on and on about the wide variety of pilots and ships that he held at his lot. Jaster couldn't help but think to himself how hard Hondo has hit the bottom. Once a notorious leader of a vast pirate gang, now he was a mere ship lot owner. Hondo led Jaster inside the office and sat down at the table inside. He reached to a cupboard and brought out half empty bottle of rum. Hondo extended the bottle to Jaster. Jaster eyed it carefully. Would Hondo try and weasel out of paying by drugging or poisoning him? Reluctantly, he removed his helmet and set it on the table. He grabbed the bottle and took a small swig, not yet swallowing. Hondo snatched the bottle back and took a longer drink. Jaster swallowed the rum, seeing it was safe.

"Well just look at you!" Hondo exclaimed as he slammed the bottle back on the table. "Spitting image of your old man." Jaster snatched the bottle back and took another swig.

"That's no surprise since I'm not Jango Fett's son. I'm his clone. He's not my father, he was a host."

"I don't know about that. Were you just a clone, you would have been part of that army for the Jedi. I'm sure everything your father did was in your best interest." Jaster scoffed at Hondo's admiration. "Jango was an honorable man and a good friend. I remember the day I met him," he added excitedly. "I was the first mate back then to Luro Tankew. We liberated a spice transport where your father was enslaved-still don't quite know how he got there-would have probably kept him that way had he not freed himself and helped kill the spice traders. But business was still very, very good that day."

"Speaking of business," Jaster cut in knowing that if he didn't Hondo would continue to ramble on. "Bule Konossa is dead. I'll be taking my pay now." Jaster held his hand out and open in wait. With the bottle tipped back to Hondo's mouth, he eyed the open gloved palm.

"Why of course!" Hondo exclaimed with drops of rum escaping his lips and spilling on his shirt.

"Four thousand credits," Jaster pressed with his open hand.

"As agreed." Hondo laughed nervously. "About that, Boba," he groaned. Jaster's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You have to understand, times are tough and credits are tight these days."

"Spill it, Hondo," Jaster growled, his hand now a fist.

"I don't have it."

Jaster sprang to his feet. "You washed up, skeevy nerf-"

"Now there's no need to get nasty," Hondo said.

"You owe me for that bounty," Jaster growled.

"Of course. Now I may not have credits to pay, but I do have something you want more, well worth the killing Konossa for me." Jaster stood with his hands balled into fists.

"Really, and what is that?" he scoffed.

Hondo stood up and made his way to the office door, beckoning the young bounty hunter. "Come, follow me."