Boba Fett stared down at the body of his daughter, thoughts and emotions slamming through his head like pebbles in the tail of a comet.
His daughter, about right age too, if she'd lived. With his dark eyes and her mother's dark hair, the kind lines that had been on her face smoothed out into impassive grimness, a doll's face. He had no idea whether her ability to touch and use the Force remained; at least, he thought she hadn't used it on him. And a quick search of her outfit revealed a conspicuous lack of a lightsaber. Cassandra had made Kashya a lightsaber when she was very young, and insisted that she learn how to use it.
What the hell was going on here?
Part of it, at least, was clear. This was what Pellaeon had meant when he had talked about altered or improved 'product.' Somehow they'd gotten hold of Kashya's DNA and cloned her as well... had they gotten hold of Cassandra too? It must have seemed like an incredible windfall, he thought bitterly. A Fett with the ability to touch and use the Force. With an army like that, they must have thought they could easily take over the galaxy. He had to admit that they might not be far wrong with that. The thought gave him pause.
But where had they gotten the source material to create the clones? Fett didn't dare let himself think that either Cassandra or Kashya might be alive. He didn't know where they could have gotten the source material except from the two women, but how...
Fett shook his head. He just didn't know enough about the processes involved to make an informed opinion, and he wasn't going to do anything productive if he just sat here and speculated.
The woman in question, whatever she was, was still alive. He reasoned that he could get more information out of her alive than dead, pushed back the tiny voice in the back of his head that said he was just leaving her alive out of sentiment, and tied her up. He could leave her in the room he had once shared with Jango Fett while he went and explored a little more, saw a little bit more of what he was getting into. There was definitely something unhinged about all of this.
He was heading through the hallways at a great rate of knots when he saw a familiar ship silhouette out of the corner of his eye. Pausing in his haste, he looked out the window and sighed. Of all the times... annoyance and pride flashed through him at the same time. Annoyance at her timing, at the fact that she had chosen now to track him and try and help... pride that she'd figured it all out and found the resources to follow through. And then he saw the second ship.
Confusion, and then rage clouded his vision. What were THEY doing here?
Syra slowly walked down the landing ramp, staring at the floating city. This was too easy, somehow... and yet, wasn't the planet supposed to be abandoned? It was almost as empty as she half-remembered it, but for one ship on a lonely platform a little closer to the ocean. It wasn't her father's ship, but it looked like the sort of Imperial shuttle he would have been assigned (or stolen). She stretched out with her mind and the Force, being careful not to tip Jacen off to what she was doing... she felt her father's comforting presence. And something else... and now she was curious. She reached out a little further, trying to sense who it was that felt so familiar to her.
... oh no...
Her eyes widened, and she almost stumbled as she started walking across the platform. Conscious of the Solos' eyes on her, she didn't fall, but it was a near thing. She gestured for them to stop.
"Wait here."
They looked at each other, confused and suspicious. She didn't bother to wait for a response, but broke into a run as she headed for the door. She would have used her jetpack if she thought that would get her where she needed to go any faster... the problem was, she had no idea where she needed to go. She needed to find her father at least... but she had no idea where in the floating city he was, and even less of an idea how to navigate it.
Then Syra stopped just inside the doorway and would have smacked herself in the forehead if she thought it wouldn't cause herself an injury.
"Dad?" She activated the internal commlink and prayed he had his turned on and recieving.
"Syra... of all the people, why did you have to bring Solo?"
She almost cried with relief. His acerbic tone meant that nothing too terribly bad could have happened to him, that he hadn't been tortured or interrogated or drugged or anything. Granted, his presence in the Force was as strong as ever... but she liked to have that little extra bit of confirmation.
"Dad... where are you? I need to talk to you..." she swallowed the tears out of her voice. "Now. It's really important."
There was a long silence. "Turn right, go down the hallway about 45 metres, take the left fork, follow it to the outermost hallway, and meet me ... five doors down." He seemed to have the exact layout of the building in his head. She didn't stop to wonder why. "You did good, Syra..."
She smiled, running again. It was good to hear him say that.
It didn't take long to get to the room he was indicating. It looked like living quarters, and she stood outside the door for a minute or so trying to figure out how to get in before the doors wooshed open and she saw her father standing there, armored and helmeted as usual. She stepped inside.
"Is it...?" she started to ask, reaching up to take off her helmet.
"Go ahead..." He took his own helmet off, and made a 'whuff' noise as she yanked hers off and launched herself at him.
"Dad... It's Maman..." she sniffled. It was all coming apart now, and everything in the last few days was catching up with her. She was acutely aware that she was only fifteen. It all seemed so overwhelming, especially... how was she going to tell him?
Boba Fett stood quite still for a moment. Finally he recovered enough to put gentle hands on her shoulders. "Slow down, Syra..." he said carefully, taking several deep breaths. "What happened?"
She swallowed back the tears, trying to breathe. "It's Maman... I don't know how... I don't know what happened. But Maman... and Kashya. I think they're here... on this station. Somehow..."
The bounty hunter took a deep, ragged breath. If the creature tied and locked in the small closet really was a clone of his eldest daughter, that would explain why the youngest was sobbing in his arms now. What would cloning do to a person's Force powers, to their signature in the Force, he wondered? He didn't know... he had no basis on which to form a theory. As he worked out what to do he hugged Syra tighter, trying not to think about the implications of everything that had happened in the last day or two.
"Syra..." he said finally, stepping back. Almost in imitation, Syra squared her shoulders and straightened up, her face mirroring what he suddenly recognized as his own calm, impassive expression. "They've created clones. Of Cassandra and Kashya." Her face paled, but her eyes flashed anger. "How they managed it, I don't know. But we need to find out how, and stop it."
She nodded, resolute. "They'd've had to had some kind of source material to clone everyone from... and they'd probably keep it close to the facilities where they do the actual cloning."
He almost smiled. "I remember where they are. Let's go."
She nodded. They left.
It took her father a couple tries before they found the right hallway, but in a very short span of time they were there. The cloning facilities were, mercifully, free of clones... but not doctors. They had to shoot down five of them. Syra didn't let herself think about what she was doing, telling herself over and over again that it was herself or them. Her family or them. Life or death. Shoot or die. It worked, a little.
There was a bank of doors all along one side of the lab, leading to what her father said were the storage facilities. It was there that the scientists would be keeping whatever genetic material they had based the clones off of. Syra and Boba had exchanged glances at that.
"I can't feel anything in those rooms," she murmured through the commlink. "It's like they're blank spots in the Force."
Boba nodded. He knew of any number of creatures or phenomena that could achieve that effect. He wasn't sure what it meant, though. Without any further discussion, they opened up the first two doors and went in.
It took a second for Syra to get used to the overlaying blue-tinted light of her visor. There was no natural light in the room, so she had to use the artificial eyes built into her helmet. It took her a while to realize what she was seeing, because of that. And then it took her another little while to realize what that meant, because she hadn't been near an industrial facility in her life. Had she brought them with her, the Solos would have recognized it. But they were back with the ship. The low humming of the life monitors soothed her rattled nerves, kept her from going insane as she slowly pieced together what was going on.
If she'd been able to touch the Force, she realized suddenly, she'd know what was going on the second she landed on the station. And then, as something moved in the corner above her head, she realized why the whole room seemed blank to her. The ysalimiri died quickly, but the laser she'd fired blinded her temporarily. She shook her head until the stars in her vision went away. Until she could see the huge slab of a panel of... something... in front of her. And then she felt it.
And then she understood.
Syra dived for the wall, frantically pushing buttons and praying for the Force to guide her, nearly yelling in fright as the carbonite block that had once been her sister slammed to the ground, regurgitating the crumpled form of Kashya Fett.
His daughter, about right age too, if she'd lived. With his dark eyes and her mother's dark hair, the kind lines that had been on her face smoothed out into impassive grimness, a doll's face. He had no idea whether her ability to touch and use the Force remained; at least, he thought she hadn't used it on him. And a quick search of her outfit revealed a conspicuous lack of a lightsaber. Cassandra had made Kashya a lightsaber when she was very young, and insisted that she learn how to use it.
What the hell was going on here?
Part of it, at least, was clear. This was what Pellaeon had meant when he had talked about altered or improved 'product.' Somehow they'd gotten hold of Kashya's DNA and cloned her as well... had they gotten hold of Cassandra too? It must have seemed like an incredible windfall, he thought bitterly. A Fett with the ability to touch and use the Force. With an army like that, they must have thought they could easily take over the galaxy. He had to admit that they might not be far wrong with that. The thought gave him pause.
But where had they gotten the source material to create the clones? Fett didn't dare let himself think that either Cassandra or Kashya might be alive. He didn't know where they could have gotten the source material except from the two women, but how...
Fett shook his head. He just didn't know enough about the processes involved to make an informed opinion, and he wasn't going to do anything productive if he just sat here and speculated.
The woman in question, whatever she was, was still alive. He reasoned that he could get more information out of her alive than dead, pushed back the tiny voice in the back of his head that said he was just leaving her alive out of sentiment, and tied her up. He could leave her in the room he had once shared with Jango Fett while he went and explored a little more, saw a little bit more of what he was getting into. There was definitely something unhinged about all of this.
He was heading through the hallways at a great rate of knots when he saw a familiar ship silhouette out of the corner of his eye. Pausing in his haste, he looked out the window and sighed. Of all the times... annoyance and pride flashed through him at the same time. Annoyance at her timing, at the fact that she had chosen now to track him and try and help... pride that she'd figured it all out and found the resources to follow through. And then he saw the second ship.
Confusion, and then rage clouded his vision. What were THEY doing here?
Syra slowly walked down the landing ramp, staring at the floating city. This was too easy, somehow... and yet, wasn't the planet supposed to be abandoned? It was almost as empty as she half-remembered it, but for one ship on a lonely platform a little closer to the ocean. It wasn't her father's ship, but it looked like the sort of Imperial shuttle he would have been assigned (or stolen). She stretched out with her mind and the Force, being careful not to tip Jacen off to what she was doing... she felt her father's comforting presence. And something else... and now she was curious. She reached out a little further, trying to sense who it was that felt so familiar to her.
... oh no...
Her eyes widened, and she almost stumbled as she started walking across the platform. Conscious of the Solos' eyes on her, she didn't fall, but it was a near thing. She gestured for them to stop.
"Wait here."
They looked at each other, confused and suspicious. She didn't bother to wait for a response, but broke into a run as she headed for the door. She would have used her jetpack if she thought that would get her where she needed to go any faster... the problem was, she had no idea where she needed to go. She needed to find her father at least... but she had no idea where in the floating city he was, and even less of an idea how to navigate it.
Then Syra stopped just inside the doorway and would have smacked herself in the forehead if she thought it wouldn't cause herself an injury.
"Dad?" She activated the internal commlink and prayed he had his turned on and recieving.
"Syra... of all the people, why did you have to bring Solo?"
She almost cried with relief. His acerbic tone meant that nothing too terribly bad could have happened to him, that he hadn't been tortured or interrogated or drugged or anything. Granted, his presence in the Force was as strong as ever... but she liked to have that little extra bit of confirmation.
"Dad... where are you? I need to talk to you..." she swallowed the tears out of her voice. "Now. It's really important."
There was a long silence. "Turn right, go down the hallway about 45 metres, take the left fork, follow it to the outermost hallway, and meet me ... five doors down." He seemed to have the exact layout of the building in his head. She didn't stop to wonder why. "You did good, Syra..."
She smiled, running again. It was good to hear him say that.
It didn't take long to get to the room he was indicating. It looked like living quarters, and she stood outside the door for a minute or so trying to figure out how to get in before the doors wooshed open and she saw her father standing there, armored and helmeted as usual. She stepped inside.
"Is it...?" she started to ask, reaching up to take off her helmet.
"Go ahead..." He took his own helmet off, and made a 'whuff' noise as she yanked hers off and launched herself at him.
"Dad... It's Maman..." she sniffled. It was all coming apart now, and everything in the last few days was catching up with her. She was acutely aware that she was only fifteen. It all seemed so overwhelming, especially... how was she going to tell him?
Boba Fett stood quite still for a moment. Finally he recovered enough to put gentle hands on her shoulders. "Slow down, Syra..." he said carefully, taking several deep breaths. "What happened?"
She swallowed back the tears, trying to breathe. "It's Maman... I don't know how... I don't know what happened. But Maman... and Kashya. I think they're here... on this station. Somehow..."
The bounty hunter took a deep, ragged breath. If the creature tied and locked in the small closet really was a clone of his eldest daughter, that would explain why the youngest was sobbing in his arms now. What would cloning do to a person's Force powers, to their signature in the Force, he wondered? He didn't know... he had no basis on which to form a theory. As he worked out what to do he hugged Syra tighter, trying not to think about the implications of everything that had happened in the last day or two.
"Syra..." he said finally, stepping back. Almost in imitation, Syra squared her shoulders and straightened up, her face mirroring what he suddenly recognized as his own calm, impassive expression. "They've created clones. Of Cassandra and Kashya." Her face paled, but her eyes flashed anger. "How they managed it, I don't know. But we need to find out how, and stop it."
She nodded, resolute. "They'd've had to had some kind of source material to clone everyone from... and they'd probably keep it close to the facilities where they do the actual cloning."
He almost smiled. "I remember where they are. Let's go."
She nodded. They left.
It took her father a couple tries before they found the right hallway, but in a very short span of time they were there. The cloning facilities were, mercifully, free of clones... but not doctors. They had to shoot down five of them. Syra didn't let herself think about what she was doing, telling herself over and over again that it was herself or them. Her family or them. Life or death. Shoot or die. It worked, a little.
There was a bank of doors all along one side of the lab, leading to what her father said were the storage facilities. It was there that the scientists would be keeping whatever genetic material they had based the clones off of. Syra and Boba had exchanged glances at that.
"I can't feel anything in those rooms," she murmured through the commlink. "It's like they're blank spots in the Force."
Boba nodded. He knew of any number of creatures or phenomena that could achieve that effect. He wasn't sure what it meant, though. Without any further discussion, they opened up the first two doors and went in.
It took a second for Syra to get used to the overlaying blue-tinted light of her visor. There was no natural light in the room, so she had to use the artificial eyes built into her helmet. It took her a while to realize what she was seeing, because of that. And then it took her another little while to realize what that meant, because she hadn't been near an industrial facility in her life. Had she brought them with her, the Solos would have recognized it. But they were back with the ship. The low humming of the life monitors soothed her rattled nerves, kept her from going insane as she slowly pieced together what was going on.
If she'd been able to touch the Force, she realized suddenly, she'd know what was going on the second she landed on the station. And then, as something moved in the corner above her head, she realized why the whole room seemed blank to her. The ysalimiri died quickly, but the laser she'd fired blinded her temporarily. She shook her head until the stars in her vision went away. Until she could see the huge slab of a panel of... something... in front of her. And then she felt it.
And then she understood.
Syra dived for the wall, frantically pushing buttons and praying for the Force to guide her, nearly yelling in fright as the carbonite block that had once been her sister slammed to the ground, regurgitating the crumpled form of Kashya Fett.