07
JASTER'S LEGACY
Through the windshield of the Slave 1, the swirl of light of the hyperspace tunnel offered its blue glow on the pilot's console and Jaster's face. The young bounty hunter navigated the ship's systems with practiced ease. As his hands and fingers fell into familiar patterns of movement, a miniscule grin crept on his face. Despite the years of having been apart, the ship felt the same, obeying with ease to all of his commands, welcoming his control.
Sitting in the pilot's chair, he thought he heard the cold voice of a woman. "Impressive, Boba." A chalk white, hand with long fingers like the legs of a spider rested on his shoulder.
"You think that's good, watch this," he heard himself say. The memory soon faded. He couldn't recall which of the daring stunts he executed in flying the surprisingly agile patroller. Jaster shook his head, the curls of his thick black hair falling into his eyes. He swept them aside and adjusted his seat, the slim angular frame of the chair was stiff and offered little padding. He had forgotten how uncomfortable they were. Looking about the cockpit of the patroller, he made a short note of what he wanted to do with his ship, the seats would be among the first of many changes-but first, he needed credits.
Jaster activated the ship's star chart display. The orange lighted display immediately showed a readout of the planet Garel. He didn't know anything about the small back world of the outer rim and what he read didn't impress him. He needed to find another job. As he sifted through worlds displayed on the star charts, his mind wandered.
Bossk's rasped voice hissed in his mind. "Savareen… The last place Beckett was spotted… Its easy credits." Jaster searched the star chart, navigating further past Garel to find Savareen. He looked at the readout, a desert planet with vast oceans known for its brandy exports and its coaxium refineries. What brought Beckett there? With this questions still in mind, the route proximity monitor beeped out loud, attracting Jaster's attention.
"We're approaching Garel," he announced into a com. Jaster pulled back on a lever and watched as the swirl of blue flashed and the windshield before him was filled with stars surrounding a world enveloped by clouds. Through the foggy atmosphere, the lights of cities could be seen from the depths of space.
Slave 1 soared through space, into the planet's orbit and outer atmosphere. Before long, the ship flew in the purple and pink hues of the clouds in a violet sky. Jaster directed the ship to a city below. It was aglow with life. Yellow lights among a cratered and mountainous terrain. In the midst of the city, one of many large, walled, hexagonal landing pads was open.
Jaster didn't bother answering the docking authorities hail on his coms, he didn't plan to stay long enough to pay a toll. Upon approach, Slave 1 eased forward for the base of the ship's back to face the landing pad, the fin like wings rotating to match the orientation of the ship. The ships settled on its back and came to rest, its engines whining down.
Now laying on his back in the pilot's chair, Jaster grinned to himself. Even after ten years of being apart, he still knew how to handle the ship of his childhood. He unbuckled the safety harness of the pilot's chair and crawled his way to the hatch where the ladder ran along the floor leading to the lower decks. Jaster crawled on hands and knees through the hatch to the second level. He rose to his feet, taking in the feeling of owning the Slave 1 once again.
Jaster looked around at the interior. In the ten years, very little had changed. Storage compartments lined the walls. Quick inspections of each found them to be empty or simple receptacles of junk. Jaster sighed. Though he loved the ship as it was, it would take some time and credits to turn it into his ideal home. Secured on a magnetic clamp plate was a single crate. He approached it, rubbing at his chin. The young bounty hunter tried to pry the lid off but found no luck in doing so.
Wincing and groaning, Hondo emerged from the hatch of the main hold. He stood up and pushed against his hunched over spine which cracked back into place. "A little warning next time when you make the ship go all topsy turvy. I'm an old Weequay, you know."
Jaster stood up, unable to hide his smirk. "This is your stop, old man."
"So it is," Hondo groaned. "Ah," he said peering over Jaster's shoulder at the crate. "That was the one crate that I could never open."
"Its voice code sealed," Jaster observed.
"Only Fett himself could open it – or someone with the exact same voice," he hinted boldly. Jaster looked at the mechanism as Hondo rambled on. "I tried everything that came to mind in my very best 'Jango.' It was no good. Whatever is in there must be of great value," he chuckled. Jaster inspected the mechanism. Sure enough, the mechanism was old enough to have been used by Jango Fett himself. Jaster pressed the button, the interface light glowed blue.
"Jango Fett," Jaster spoke clearly. The interface's vocal tracker fluctuated with his voice before beeping and flashing red in rejection. "Boba Fett." Another beep and red flash. Big surprise. "Zam Wessel." Another red flash. Jaster frowned. "Slave 1." More red. "Kamino." Red. Jaster dove deeper, prying into memories he seldom called upon any longer. "Concord Dawn." Red. "Mandalore." Red. "Mandalorian." Red. Taking a step back, he tore through his memories. "Jaster Mereel?"
Hondo watched with piqued anticipation, not knowing or recognizing half of the passcodes the young man was attempting. The crate beeped and flashed red again. Jaster clenched his fists then let them go limp as it suddenly donned on him. "Jaster's Legacy." After a short pause, the blue vocal tracking interface glowed green and a different beep sounded. Hondo cackled with joy as Jaster lifted the lid away.
"Jaster's Legacy," the old pirate echoed. "Now what could that mean I wonder." Jaster peered into the crate with a dulled look in his dark eyes. It was Jango Fett's obsession. Time and time again, he reminded the young boy of who he was training him to be.
"It was his old ship," Jaster said bitterly. He also knew this to be true. Well before Jaster had been grown in the cloning facility of Kamino, and before acquiring Slave 1, it was indeed the name of Jango's old ship inherited from the Mandalore Jaster Mereel himself, Jango's adoptive father. The young bounty hunter knew in his hubris that the old ship was not the intent of Jango's chosen passcode.
Jaster set the lid aside and found himself peering into the fierce black 'T' visor of a Mandalorian helmet. The helmet itself was olive green with dark red accents around the visor. He picked the helmet out of the crate and held it in amazement, never again did he think he'd ever see this set of armor.
"I thought Jango wore something a bit more shiny?" Hondo inquired.
"He did. This was his first set. Given to him by Jaster Mereel."
"Who?"
"Fett's father."
"Ah, I see," Hondo said without enthusiasm, clasping his leathery hands together before spinning on his heel. "Well, its been quite an adventure, Boba. I do hope we can meet together again some time." He made his way to the hatch and crawled through to the main hold. Jaster set the helmet back in the crate. He didn't say anything as he followed the old pirate through to the main hold to the closed entry hatch. Hondo pressed the control and the hatch rose open. "Do take good care of this ship. I am off to see what riches and fortune await me here."
Jaster watched as Hondo strode down the ramp to the landing pad below, his leathery hand waving goodbye. Pressing the control, the hatched lowered again and sealed shut. "Goodbye old man." Jaster stood in the main hold, taking another moment to take in his ship. The light hum of the old ship was labored, but all was quiet and once again, Jaster was alone and for the moment at peace.
