"'Nara! Incoming comm!" Tenel Ka's voice echoed down the hallway and into the room of the young girl who now lived at the Jedi Academy.
Linnara poked her head out of her room. "From who?? I don't get mail, much less…"
"I think it's your father…" Tenel Ka grinned as Linnara dashed out of door and started pounding down the hallway past her fellow student. Of all of them, even despite that some of the Jedi students didn't have families and most of them had few friends outside of the ones at the new-founded Academy, Linnara got the fewest calls. Her father, seemingly the only one who knew she was here, called her infrequently and randomly. Then again, Tenel Ka thought, that was probably to be expected. He probably wasn't free and in the area for long enough to have a decent conversation very often. He clearly missed his daughter, and she just as clearly missed him too.
"Thanks!" Linnara called over her shoulder on the way to the small room that held the public comms. She slid the privacy shield down but didn't darken it. Tenel Ka walked on down the hallway, used to Linnara's reclusive behavior by now, at least where it came to her father. After all, some of the Academy's best students were children of former smugglers.
"Dad?"
The screen flickered, and then the image consolidated itself into a care-worn, slightly scarred older man who resembled the young Jedi Apprentice in coloring only. "Hello, preciosa," he gave her one of his rare smiles, and Linnara frowned inside. He must be feeling tired. "How are things?"
"How's things with you? You look like shit," 'Nara replied acerbically, not wasting time on the niceties.
"Is that any way to talk to your old man?" The self-appointed trader arched a wry eyebrow. "Things could be better. But they're going the same as always, nothing for you to worry about." There was an ever so slight accent on 'you,' an unspoken admonition to her not to go chasing off after her father. Neither of them would have put it past her to think about it. Such things ran in the blood.
"I wasn't worrying." Her response was a little too quick, but to his satisfaction it was followed up with, "and I'm not going anywhere. I'd get half the Academy on my tail if I did."
"How are you doing there?" he asked, as he always did. "I know it must be tough, with your background so different from everyone else's there…"
"I'm fine, Dad," she replied with fond exasperation, as she always did. "You worry too much, you know that? It's not good for you, especially with your blood pressure. You'll kick off early, and then where will I be, hmm?"
Her father made a derisive noise. "You'll do fine on your own. I did more with less at your age, and so did your mother. Survival is in your bloodline, you know that."
It was. Each of them knew they were only worrying about the other out of habit. Granted, it was a habit that was formed under circumstances very conducive to worry. Neither of them led what might remotely be called a quiet lifestyle. But when 'Nara had entered the Jedi Academy they had made a deal: he'd settle down if she would, at least until she was out of the Academy. Then they could go around and raise hell all over the universe together.
"And if I didn't you'd remind me every other call, like you always do. Honestly, Dad, you'd think I was under some sort of secret threat, the way you keep going on about it. I'm fine, we're all fine here, Master Skywalker won't let anything happen to us."
"Huh." Antilles's mouth made that not-quite-scowl that it always did whenever Linnara brought up Master Skywalker. "You know what I think of the man."
"I do," she replied warningly. "All of it. You're the one who suggested I go here. You practically sent me here since, you said it yourself, there are things you can't really teach me. So don't start getting all high-and-mighty on me now, Mister. I'm learning good stuff here, even you would find it useful."
"I highly doubt that." Irony sizzled through his words. "Well, as long as you're all right."
"I'm fine." There was a slight pause. "How's …"
The man sighed heavily. "She's all right. She still won't talk to me, but I keep checking up on her. For your sake, so don't go getting any ideas."
Linnara ignored that. "After … how many years has it been? Eight? Nine?"
"Nine years in two months, exactly."
They were both quiet for a bit. "You'd think she'd give over eventually," Linnara said finally. "It's not like staying angry with you is going to change anything. And it's not like it makes her special or something… I don't know what she's thinking."
"She's not," Antilles said, "People don't, when it comes down to it."
"Except us."
"We're the exception to a lot of rules, preciosa. You know that by now."
"Ye-e-e-e-es…" Linnara smiled slightly. "Most of them rules laid down by you, yourself."
He shrugged. "Circumstances change."
"Uh-huh." She took a closer look at her father. He really did look… more tired, older. He'd never looked old, or at least never looked as though he'd gotten older. He'd somehow seemed to stay the same, despite the years and the rigors his line of work took him through. "Dad, are you sure you're okay? You look like something the Sa… sandworm ate," she stopped herself in time. Careless words, she chided herself, could get them both discovered. Wouldn't do to be careless.
"Ha. Ha. Very ha."
"I'm serious. Mostly."
"I'm fine. Quit worrying," he retorted gruffly. Something beeped in the background, and he looked off-screen for a second. "I have to go. The merchandise just came in."
Merchandise. She knew what that meant. Linnara shook her head. "You take care of yourself. Don't leave me stranded here with these people," she smiled. "They're far too uptight for me to stay with for long."
He smiled a little. "You take care of yourself too."
"I love you too, Dad."
He still managed to sign off just barely ahead of her. Linnara sighed and banged her head softly on the comm console. One of these days, as much as he'd lightened up, he was going to unbend enough to actually say the 'l' word. She knew older students here at the Academy, boys going through the usual teenage discovery of girls, who were less pa1ranoid about saying it than her father. Not that it was really unusual or even unexpected, but…
The knock on the privacy shield made her jump. She looked up, hoping she didn't look as guilty as she felt, to meet the eyes of Jacen and Jaina Solo. Then she started hoping she didn't look as amused as she felt; if they'd come two seconds earlier, she would have had to fight to keep from laughing. As it was she was trying not to giggle, thinking of the expression on her father's face if he actually saw who she spent most of her time with. He'd've had a whole herd of bantha. Linnara raised the privacy shield and ducked out of the booth.
"Wedge just put in another appearance.... and he brought some fighters with him! We're going to try some simulator runs, want to come?" Jaina's eyes were practically gleaming with excitement, and she was jigging from one foot to the other like a small child who needed to go to the bathroom. She was always anxious to try her hand against the fabled Rogue and Wraith squadrons.
"If I say no, will you explode?" Linnara grinned. Of the students at the Academy, she was one of the few who could give Jaina a run for her money. She ascribed her piloting talents to her father letting her have one too many turns at the helm. Master Luke just smiled and said that piloting was in her blood. This always made her go quiet; if they'd known just how much in her blood it really was, she'd be in a lot of trouble.
"Aw, c'mon. It's got to be better than talking to a blank viewscreen all day." Jaina, having never, ever seen Linnara's father, was firmly of the opinion that he didn't exist, and teased 'Nara about it often. Even Master Skywalker was curious as to why the man never managed to make it to Yavin, but Linnara's childhood as a trader brat on the Outer Rim made it reasonably clear. He occasionally expressed a wistful desire to meet her father, but she usually managed to plead off.
"One day, my dad is going to make it here, and then you'll be sorry." Linnara made a face at Jaina, silently praying that her dad never found a reason to make it over to the Academy.
"Uh-huh. I'd bet my dad can beat up your dad any day of the week."
Linnara smothered a giggle. "Maybe. But my dad can outfly your dad any day of the week."
Jaina made a face at the other girl. "Pity those skills skipped a generation."
'Nara smiled. If only Jaina knew whose skills she had inherited. But it was about time for a rematch anyway, especially with Rogue or Wraith squadrons to play with. "Watch me."
Closer to Yavin than anyone would have guessed, a bounty hunter turned off his comm unit and closed his eyes. Maybe he really was getting too old for this (or maybe not), but his daughter's enthusiasm and passion was going to exhaust him into the ground, and possibly sooner rather than later. It didn't help that the impish gleam in her eyes reminded him of her mother, and her quick retorts in her mother's voice were like a blaster bolt to the gut even now. Not for the first time, he felt a surge of guilty relief for having sent her off to the Jedi Academy, not just for training, but also for distance from the constant pain-filled reminder.
Boba Fett sighed heavily, donning his helmet and his trademark stoicism in the same gesture. He hadn't been making excuses when he had mentioned merchandise to be picked up, but even if the soon-to-be-Bantha-fodder accountant hadn't existed he would probably have found an excuse to sign off soon anyway. Syra… Linnara, he reminded himself, she's Linnara now… reminded him too much of her mother, and he couldn't afford that kind of sentimentality when the object of it wasn't around to be put at a distance. As often as he had visited her home planet Ceneth and as much of a haven as it (and she) had become, there had always been a tangibility to her presence, an almost comforting solidness that he could put aside at all times except when space became too cold and unforgiving. It was as if when she was alive, she had been that much easier to set aside, knowing that she was there and waiting for his next return trip.
That tangibility was gone now, replaced with the sentimentality of memories that were much harder to put away. Memories of her, in flying and in fighting and even in the perfect calm he'd come to associate with her home. Memories of how she, of all people, seemed to understand him the best of everyone who had ever tried to get at the mind beneath the helmet, and without even really trying or wanting. Sometimes actively not wanting, he remembered.
"You're not that good, you know." She'd said once in a moment of brief, rare anger. "It's just that other people really are that stupid."
"Of course," he shrugged, not really seeing where she was going with this and starting not to care, either. He didn't know why he'd started to care in the first place, except that it had started out as an argument about Kashya, and their highly dubious status as a family.
"You're not as clever as you think you are, either," she'd said ominously.
"Which means what?"
"If you'd remembered what happened the last time we got into a … fight… like the last one…" she'd continued, and then it suddenly all clicked. "You'd remember what happened afterwards, too."
The bounty hunter was caught flat-footed, the instances of which he could count on one hand with fingers left over. It all clicked, Kashya's half-ecstatic, half-enraged greeting, Romy's increased suspicion, Cassandra's own erratic behavior. "What …."
"Congradulations. Dad. Again."
The bounty hunter smiled slightly, remembering what had come next. At the time he hadn't been sure whether to be pleased or angry about the whole thing (which, granted, could only be ascribed to their negligence). Seeing Syra grow up, though, and turn into someone as skilled as her father and as talented as her mother… seeing her bright ambition shining in the way she smiled, the way she wore her own set of customized armor, the way she flew... seeing her carry on his inadvertent legacy, the legacy of the name of Fett. That was worth it all. At the time, though…
"Great," he muttered, taking refuge in sarcasm from the usdden surge of uncharacteristic panic."Another body to guard and not get paid for it."
Cassandra whacked him in the arm, not an open-palm girl-like slap but a punch with a good portion of her strength behind it. "Bastard. If we're all such a burden, then just fly off like you always do and don't come back this time." It was similar to what she'd said on previous occasions, only it sounded like this time she meant it. He held up his hands and backed up, startled at her vehemence and even more so by the strength of his reaction.
"Do you see me going anywhere?"
Cassandra watched him, golden eyes ablaze, for the longest time. He stayed exactly where he was, unmoving. If his hunter's sense hadn't told him that one wrong move could get him killed, common sense and the look in her eyes probably would have. "Good," she said eventually…
The bounty hunter shook his head slowly. Dealing with pregnant females was not on his list of skills, and he had been glad for the jobs that took him away for a year at a time. When he'd finally returned to Ceneth, though, Cassandra had been waiting for him, as perfectly in control as ever and with baby Syra in her arms. It had been the first time they'd had any reason to talk without the usual dancing around the subject and making sure they weren't going to gun each other down. It had been the first time he'd let anyone into his life since Jango, even with the revelation of Kashya's existence. Most of the barriers between him and Cassandra had dissipated, somehow, that visit.
Boba Fett shook off the memories of the past with a half-disgusted shake of his head. That kind of sentimentality was useless, and it was going to get him killed if he wasn't careful. The accountant, a shifty sort of Twi'lek, wasn't the usual sort of challenge he liked, but the bounty posted on him by the Admiral Pellaeon was more than enough to make up for it. On the other hand, any other bounty hunters after this particular prize might very well kill him for the credits. And some of the other bounty hunters were very nearly as skilled as he was. He hadn't lived as long as he had by being careless.
The small Headhunter the Twi'lek had commandeered was easily disabled by a few laser shots to the engines. The docking clamp was locked on without much trouble, either. Fett descended the ladder and quickly boarded the other ship, blaster out and ready in case someone had heard he was coming after the Twi'lek and decided he was worth waiting for. But the Twi'lek, much to the bounty hunter's distaste, was cringing, alone, in a corner with twitching head-tails. At least this species wasn't given to soiling itself in fright. He advanced on the merchandise, anticipating no real resistance.
The comm unit switched on abruptly, causing Fett to spin around with blaster rifle drawn and the Twi'lek to cringe even further under a console. After a few seconds he realized it must have been a recorded message, triggered to activate upon boarding after confirmation of the Slave II's transponder beacon. Which meant that someone had been anticipating his arrival. He didn't like being anticipated, even less so when it was done successfully. Most likely someone had been using the Twi'lek as bait. He started prepping his ship for a quick retreat, voice activated from inside his helmet. But his curiosity forced him to read the message even as he grabbed the Twi'lek by the arm.
"Boba Fett. I presume you've apprehended poor Bakkah by now. While I would appreciate having him returned to me the point of this exercise, as I presume you'll have figured out by now, was to impart certain information to you concerning the safety of your daughter."
Fett's hand clenched involuntarily on the blaster rifle. His other hand clenched on the Twi'lek's arm, and the creature squeaked.
"After turning over Bakkah you are to proceed to the planet at these coordinates for further instructions. I am given to understand that you are familiar with the place." Cenath's location appeared on the astro-navigation console. "I expect to see you there."
The recording ended. The bounty hunter's hands tightened and flexed on the blaster rifle as though he could feel the speaker's throat underneath his hands. A few moments later he stopped, the storm apparently over. But when the visored gaze turned on the Twi'lek, the creature fainted dead away from the intensity of the leashed violence contained within.
There was no reason in the universe that anyone should have known about Ceneth, or that he sometimes maintained a home there. There was even less reason why anyone should have known about his daughter. That someone should have known about both, and used them to try to manipulate him into doing their dirty work (because that was all this was, he was sure)... that was intolerable. It would have been intolerable for Jango, and it was even more intolerable now. He smothered the brief flash of guilt at the memory, and the knowledge that it never actually had happened to Jango. It didn't matter. Someone had threatened his daughter. Someone was going to die.
Fett would turn in the Twi'lek, collect the bounty, and visit the small, peaceful planet he hadn't seen in nearly nine years. And then he would see about the safety of his daughter in his own inimitable way.
Linnara poked her head out of her room. "From who?? I don't get mail, much less…"
"I think it's your father…" Tenel Ka grinned as Linnara dashed out of door and started pounding down the hallway past her fellow student. Of all of them, even despite that some of the Jedi students didn't have families and most of them had few friends outside of the ones at the new-founded Academy, Linnara got the fewest calls. Her father, seemingly the only one who knew she was here, called her infrequently and randomly. Then again, Tenel Ka thought, that was probably to be expected. He probably wasn't free and in the area for long enough to have a decent conversation very often. He clearly missed his daughter, and she just as clearly missed him too.
"Thanks!" Linnara called over her shoulder on the way to the small room that held the public comms. She slid the privacy shield down but didn't darken it. Tenel Ka walked on down the hallway, used to Linnara's reclusive behavior by now, at least where it came to her father. After all, some of the Academy's best students were children of former smugglers.
"Dad?"
The screen flickered, and then the image consolidated itself into a care-worn, slightly scarred older man who resembled the young Jedi Apprentice in coloring only. "Hello, preciosa," he gave her one of his rare smiles, and Linnara frowned inside. He must be feeling tired. "How are things?"
"How's things with you? You look like shit," 'Nara replied acerbically, not wasting time on the niceties.
"Is that any way to talk to your old man?" The self-appointed trader arched a wry eyebrow. "Things could be better. But they're going the same as always, nothing for you to worry about." There was an ever so slight accent on 'you,' an unspoken admonition to her not to go chasing off after her father. Neither of them would have put it past her to think about it. Such things ran in the blood.
"I wasn't worrying." Her response was a little too quick, but to his satisfaction it was followed up with, "and I'm not going anywhere. I'd get half the Academy on my tail if I did."
"How are you doing there?" he asked, as he always did. "I know it must be tough, with your background so different from everyone else's there…"
"I'm fine, Dad," she replied with fond exasperation, as she always did. "You worry too much, you know that? It's not good for you, especially with your blood pressure. You'll kick off early, and then where will I be, hmm?"
Her father made a derisive noise. "You'll do fine on your own. I did more with less at your age, and so did your mother. Survival is in your bloodline, you know that."
It was. Each of them knew they were only worrying about the other out of habit. Granted, it was a habit that was formed under circumstances very conducive to worry. Neither of them led what might remotely be called a quiet lifestyle. But when 'Nara had entered the Jedi Academy they had made a deal: he'd settle down if she would, at least until she was out of the Academy. Then they could go around and raise hell all over the universe together.
"And if I didn't you'd remind me every other call, like you always do. Honestly, Dad, you'd think I was under some sort of secret threat, the way you keep going on about it. I'm fine, we're all fine here, Master Skywalker won't let anything happen to us."
"Huh." Antilles's mouth made that not-quite-scowl that it always did whenever Linnara brought up Master Skywalker. "You know what I think of the man."
"I do," she replied warningly. "All of it. You're the one who suggested I go here. You practically sent me here since, you said it yourself, there are things you can't really teach me. So don't start getting all high-and-mighty on me now, Mister. I'm learning good stuff here, even you would find it useful."
"I highly doubt that." Irony sizzled through his words. "Well, as long as you're all right."
"I'm fine." There was a slight pause. "How's …"
The man sighed heavily. "She's all right. She still won't talk to me, but I keep checking up on her. For your sake, so don't go getting any ideas."
Linnara ignored that. "After … how many years has it been? Eight? Nine?"
"Nine years in two months, exactly."
They were both quiet for a bit. "You'd think she'd give over eventually," Linnara said finally. "It's not like staying angry with you is going to change anything. And it's not like it makes her special or something… I don't know what she's thinking."
"She's not," Antilles said, "People don't, when it comes down to it."
"Except us."
"We're the exception to a lot of rules, preciosa. You know that by now."
"Ye-e-e-e-es…" Linnara smiled slightly. "Most of them rules laid down by you, yourself."
He shrugged. "Circumstances change."
"Uh-huh." She took a closer look at her father. He really did look… more tired, older. He'd never looked old, or at least never looked as though he'd gotten older. He'd somehow seemed to stay the same, despite the years and the rigors his line of work took him through. "Dad, are you sure you're okay? You look like something the Sa… sandworm ate," she stopped herself in time. Careless words, she chided herself, could get them both discovered. Wouldn't do to be careless.
"Ha. Ha. Very ha."
"I'm serious. Mostly."
"I'm fine. Quit worrying," he retorted gruffly. Something beeped in the background, and he looked off-screen for a second. "I have to go. The merchandise just came in."
Merchandise. She knew what that meant. Linnara shook her head. "You take care of yourself. Don't leave me stranded here with these people," she smiled. "They're far too uptight for me to stay with for long."
He smiled a little. "You take care of yourself too."
"I love you too, Dad."
He still managed to sign off just barely ahead of her. Linnara sighed and banged her head softly on the comm console. One of these days, as much as he'd lightened up, he was going to unbend enough to actually say the 'l' word. She knew older students here at the Academy, boys going through the usual teenage discovery of girls, who were less pa1ranoid about saying it than her father. Not that it was really unusual or even unexpected, but…
The knock on the privacy shield made her jump. She looked up, hoping she didn't look as guilty as she felt, to meet the eyes of Jacen and Jaina Solo. Then she started hoping she didn't look as amused as she felt; if they'd come two seconds earlier, she would have had to fight to keep from laughing. As it was she was trying not to giggle, thinking of the expression on her father's face if he actually saw who she spent most of her time with. He'd've had a whole herd of bantha. Linnara raised the privacy shield and ducked out of the booth.
"Wedge just put in another appearance.... and he brought some fighters with him! We're going to try some simulator runs, want to come?" Jaina's eyes were practically gleaming with excitement, and she was jigging from one foot to the other like a small child who needed to go to the bathroom. She was always anxious to try her hand against the fabled Rogue and Wraith squadrons.
"If I say no, will you explode?" Linnara grinned. Of the students at the Academy, she was one of the few who could give Jaina a run for her money. She ascribed her piloting talents to her father letting her have one too many turns at the helm. Master Luke just smiled and said that piloting was in her blood. This always made her go quiet; if they'd known just how much in her blood it really was, she'd be in a lot of trouble.
"Aw, c'mon. It's got to be better than talking to a blank viewscreen all day." Jaina, having never, ever seen Linnara's father, was firmly of the opinion that he didn't exist, and teased 'Nara about it often. Even Master Skywalker was curious as to why the man never managed to make it to Yavin, but Linnara's childhood as a trader brat on the Outer Rim made it reasonably clear. He occasionally expressed a wistful desire to meet her father, but she usually managed to plead off.
"One day, my dad is going to make it here, and then you'll be sorry." Linnara made a face at Jaina, silently praying that her dad never found a reason to make it over to the Academy.
"Uh-huh. I'd bet my dad can beat up your dad any day of the week."
Linnara smothered a giggle. "Maybe. But my dad can outfly your dad any day of the week."
Jaina made a face at the other girl. "Pity those skills skipped a generation."
'Nara smiled. If only Jaina knew whose skills she had inherited. But it was about time for a rematch anyway, especially with Rogue or Wraith squadrons to play with. "Watch me."
Closer to Yavin than anyone would have guessed, a bounty hunter turned off his comm unit and closed his eyes. Maybe he really was getting too old for this (or maybe not), but his daughter's enthusiasm and passion was going to exhaust him into the ground, and possibly sooner rather than later. It didn't help that the impish gleam in her eyes reminded him of her mother, and her quick retorts in her mother's voice were like a blaster bolt to the gut even now. Not for the first time, he felt a surge of guilty relief for having sent her off to the Jedi Academy, not just for training, but also for distance from the constant pain-filled reminder.
Boba Fett sighed heavily, donning his helmet and his trademark stoicism in the same gesture. He hadn't been making excuses when he had mentioned merchandise to be picked up, but even if the soon-to-be-Bantha-fodder accountant hadn't existed he would probably have found an excuse to sign off soon anyway. Syra… Linnara, he reminded himself, she's Linnara now… reminded him too much of her mother, and he couldn't afford that kind of sentimentality when the object of it wasn't around to be put at a distance. As often as he had visited her home planet Ceneth and as much of a haven as it (and she) had become, there had always been a tangibility to her presence, an almost comforting solidness that he could put aside at all times except when space became too cold and unforgiving. It was as if when she was alive, she had been that much easier to set aside, knowing that she was there and waiting for his next return trip.
That tangibility was gone now, replaced with the sentimentality of memories that were much harder to put away. Memories of her, in flying and in fighting and even in the perfect calm he'd come to associate with her home. Memories of how she, of all people, seemed to understand him the best of everyone who had ever tried to get at the mind beneath the helmet, and without even really trying or wanting. Sometimes actively not wanting, he remembered.
"You're not that good, you know." She'd said once in a moment of brief, rare anger. "It's just that other people really are that stupid."
"Of course," he shrugged, not really seeing where she was going with this and starting not to care, either. He didn't know why he'd started to care in the first place, except that it had started out as an argument about Kashya, and their highly dubious status as a family.
"You're not as clever as you think you are, either," she'd said ominously.
"Which means what?"
"If you'd remembered what happened the last time we got into a … fight… like the last one…" she'd continued, and then it suddenly all clicked. "You'd remember what happened afterwards, too."
The bounty hunter was caught flat-footed, the instances of which he could count on one hand with fingers left over. It all clicked, Kashya's half-ecstatic, half-enraged greeting, Romy's increased suspicion, Cassandra's own erratic behavior. "What …."
"Congradulations. Dad. Again."
The bounty hunter smiled slightly, remembering what had come next. At the time he hadn't been sure whether to be pleased or angry about the whole thing (which, granted, could only be ascribed to their negligence). Seeing Syra grow up, though, and turn into someone as skilled as her father and as talented as her mother… seeing her bright ambition shining in the way she smiled, the way she wore her own set of customized armor, the way she flew... seeing her carry on his inadvertent legacy, the legacy of the name of Fett. That was worth it all. At the time, though…
"Great," he muttered, taking refuge in sarcasm from the usdden surge of uncharacteristic panic."Another body to guard and not get paid for it."
Cassandra whacked him in the arm, not an open-palm girl-like slap but a punch with a good portion of her strength behind it. "Bastard. If we're all such a burden, then just fly off like you always do and don't come back this time." It was similar to what she'd said on previous occasions, only it sounded like this time she meant it. He held up his hands and backed up, startled at her vehemence and even more so by the strength of his reaction.
"Do you see me going anywhere?"
Cassandra watched him, golden eyes ablaze, for the longest time. He stayed exactly where he was, unmoving. If his hunter's sense hadn't told him that one wrong move could get him killed, common sense and the look in her eyes probably would have. "Good," she said eventually…
The bounty hunter shook his head slowly. Dealing with pregnant females was not on his list of skills, and he had been glad for the jobs that took him away for a year at a time. When he'd finally returned to Ceneth, though, Cassandra had been waiting for him, as perfectly in control as ever and with baby Syra in her arms. It had been the first time they'd had any reason to talk without the usual dancing around the subject and making sure they weren't going to gun each other down. It had been the first time he'd let anyone into his life since Jango, even with the revelation of Kashya's existence. Most of the barriers between him and Cassandra had dissipated, somehow, that visit.
Boba Fett shook off the memories of the past with a half-disgusted shake of his head. That kind of sentimentality was useless, and it was going to get him killed if he wasn't careful. The accountant, a shifty sort of Twi'lek, wasn't the usual sort of challenge he liked, but the bounty posted on him by the Admiral Pellaeon was more than enough to make up for it. On the other hand, any other bounty hunters after this particular prize might very well kill him for the credits. And some of the other bounty hunters were very nearly as skilled as he was. He hadn't lived as long as he had by being careless.
The small Headhunter the Twi'lek had commandeered was easily disabled by a few laser shots to the engines. The docking clamp was locked on without much trouble, either. Fett descended the ladder and quickly boarded the other ship, blaster out and ready in case someone had heard he was coming after the Twi'lek and decided he was worth waiting for. But the Twi'lek, much to the bounty hunter's distaste, was cringing, alone, in a corner with twitching head-tails. At least this species wasn't given to soiling itself in fright. He advanced on the merchandise, anticipating no real resistance.
The comm unit switched on abruptly, causing Fett to spin around with blaster rifle drawn and the Twi'lek to cringe even further under a console. After a few seconds he realized it must have been a recorded message, triggered to activate upon boarding after confirmation of the Slave II's transponder beacon. Which meant that someone had been anticipating his arrival. He didn't like being anticipated, even less so when it was done successfully. Most likely someone had been using the Twi'lek as bait. He started prepping his ship for a quick retreat, voice activated from inside his helmet. But his curiosity forced him to read the message even as he grabbed the Twi'lek by the arm.
"Boba Fett. I presume you've apprehended poor Bakkah by now. While I would appreciate having him returned to me the point of this exercise, as I presume you'll have figured out by now, was to impart certain information to you concerning the safety of your daughter."
Fett's hand clenched involuntarily on the blaster rifle. His other hand clenched on the Twi'lek's arm, and the creature squeaked.
"After turning over Bakkah you are to proceed to the planet at these coordinates for further instructions. I am given to understand that you are familiar with the place." Cenath's location appeared on the astro-navigation console. "I expect to see you there."
The recording ended. The bounty hunter's hands tightened and flexed on the blaster rifle as though he could feel the speaker's throat underneath his hands. A few moments later he stopped, the storm apparently over. But when the visored gaze turned on the Twi'lek, the creature fainted dead away from the intensity of the leashed violence contained within.
There was no reason in the universe that anyone should have known about Ceneth, or that he sometimes maintained a home there. There was even less reason why anyone should have known about his daughter. That someone should have known about both, and used them to try to manipulate him into doing their dirty work (because that was all this was, he was sure)... that was intolerable. It would have been intolerable for Jango, and it was even more intolerable now. He smothered the brief flash of guilt at the memory, and the knowledge that it never actually had happened to Jango. It didn't matter. Someone had threatened his daughter. Someone was going to die.
Fett would turn in the Twi'lek, collect the bounty, and visit the small, peaceful planet he hadn't seen in nearly nine years. And then he would see about the safety of his daughter in his own inimitable way.