Author's note: The last few chapters of this story will probably get refined at some point in the near future. But I want to get this out before I procrastinate it into oblivion.
If Han Solo had had a problem with the thought of Boba Fett having a daughter or some other sort of female protege, this was just too much for his mind to handle. The station exploding around him there was not one, not two, but four armored figures walking out of the flames. Four. Two of them carried boys who couldn't be more than eight or ten years old in their arms. He felt his jaw drop and his brain start to shut down. A family of Fetts. And he'd thought he'd seen all the universe had to throw at him. Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that they were speaking. He almost missed the words, as few of them as there were.
"Let's go."
Oh. Okay. Those words, even from a Fett, he could deal with. Especially as they were standing on a landing platform attatched to a station that seemed to be busily engaged in blowing up. Somehow, according to prearranged instructions maybe, the group of Mandalorian armored felons separated. One took the hand of the other boy (twins?) and ran for the Falcon. The other two split themselves between the remaining two ships that had landed there a few seconds earlier. It briefly occured to Han that maybe helmet commlinks to the ship weren't such a bad idea after all. Then they were running up the gangplank and taking off.
"So," Han asked, flipping open the comm and glancing skeptically at his son. "What exactly did you need us for?" He had a direct channel to the other Fett's ship, but wasn't prepared to talk to Boba Fett right at the moment.
Jacen shrugged.
"The Imperials," she said succinctly. Han thought he detected a note of smug glee in her tone.
"The WHAT?"
The Fetts started to roar off. Solo opened his mouth to ask why they didn't just jump to hyperspace when an Interdictor Cruiser's shadow started to loom directly on top of him. That made more sense. He shook off his dazedness and started hitting the throttle as the belly of the Cruiser disgorged a squadron of Tie Fighters.
"Dad..." Jacen said, strapping himself in next to Han. "Do you have any idea what's going on?"
Han looked sideways at his son before juking to the left to avoid being strafed by laser fire. "I was going to ask you the same thing," he muttered, rolling his eyes at the squadron. "Wish you'd thought to recruit Wedge in on this little crazy mission of yours. Get the guns."
Jacen nodded and scurried off for the gunner ports. Han sighed. This wasn't going to be easy.
Laser fire started spraying from the starboard gunner port, and Han silently blessed the foresight that had inspired teaching his son to shoot these things. Jaina would have learned whether her parents wanted to or not, but Jacen had had to be nudged. It wasn't until the port guns started firing, though, that he realized there was someone else in there.
"Jacen!" he yelled, still evading like a maniac. "What's going on up there."
"You needed an extra gun," came the comm-distorted voice, and Han's hands actually froze on the controls for a second. Not Boba, not the impossibly Fett-like Syra, but one of the other Mandalorians. Or whatever they were. Was she also laying claim to the Fett name and reputation? Scary thought.
"Thanks." Han said, and cut off the comm before the "I think." could make its way across the lines.
She must have been coordinating with the other two Fetts. The laser fire from his ship and the fire from the other two ships was too well timed and too precise for anything else to be happening. They made shorter work of the TIE fighters than he could have alone; they almost finished them off quicker than even Rogue Squadron could. Han flipped through, trying to catch them in comm traffic. It didn't work.
"We're safe, for now." Han jumped in his seat. He hadn't heard the armored figure approach. "Plot a course to the planet you came from. We'll leave you there."
He almost wanted to make this armored figure promise that Boba Fett would leave him alone no matter what else happened after this. He didn't. "Are you sure they won't follow us?"
"They won't."
The armored figure left. Han sat there for a few seconds, almost automatically plotting in the fastest course to Cenath that he could figure out on such short notice. Jacen poked his head in a couple times, but withdrew at Han's pensive and frustrated look.
This just didn't make sense. What the hell was going on? Why was an Imperial force big enough to drop in an Interdictor Cruiser at no notice interested in a family of Fetts? Why was there a family of Fetts in the first place? Why were there children involved in this family of Fetts, much less twin boys? He started asking himself the questions out loud, not noticing. Where had all the armor come from? Why was Boba Fett even still alive after the Sarlaac and Nar Shadda and everything else the man had been through? Why was he even with the family of Fetts, given his almost rabid penchant for solo-work and backstabbing his supposed partners?
Why was he talking to himself?
Han stood and punched in the coordinates, remembering at the last second to feed them to the other two ships before they all jumped. He didn't bother to give a count, but they jumped with him anyway. Probably the preternatural Fett instincts. Or maybe the other one was behind him again... he whipped around. Dammit! This was getting to be too much.
He stormed off into what passed for the rec room. Maybe Jacen could shed some light on this, he was the one who had started this errant venture, after all. And then he stopped in the hallway, leaned against one of the walls, and stared.
Maybe not.
Cassandra, her face hidden behind her scrounged-up helmet, smirked. This was giving her smug satisfaction on so many levels. For one thing, it wasn't every day that a former Jedi reject got to tutor a current Jedi student on lightsaber technique. But then again, these weren't exactly Jedi. A school with one teacher, and he had probably been a half-assed student at best, given Jacen's lightsaber skills. And he wasn't a bad student. But still.
She led him through one of the easier drills again, effortlessly blocking the stings from the remote druids. In one corner, curled up on the benches behind the holo-chess table, the 'twins' were sleeping. Jacen followed her movements, managing to get most of them this time. He was also, she sensed through the Force, getting more of an awareness of his surroundings. Good. He wasn't going to be able to match her or even Kashya anytime soon, but he might actually survive his childhood at this rate. If she wasn't mistaken, the fact that he was a Solo and a Jedi would make him a tempting target for more than just the Imperials. It was the same sort of thing that made herself and Kashya such tempting targets...
She pushed the thought out of her mind.
Spikes of disbelief interrupted both her and Jacen's concentration. She didn't have to turn to see Han Solo gaping at both of them with his jaw dropped, and resisted the urge to ask, "What, never seen a Fett with a lightsaber before?" Jacen did turn, and looked very guilty doing so.
"Hey, Dad," he said.
"Hey, son." He said it with almost exaggerated calm. As though his son was trained by someone connected to his mortal enemy all the time. Cassandra was nearly hyperventilating with suppressed laughter.
"Practice going good?"
"Pretty good. I think."
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was suddenly very glad of the helmet.
"We'll be coming out of hyperspace in another hour. You'd probably better wrap it up soon."
"Okay, Dad."
Quiet comments came in through the helmet comm from her daughters. She hushed them until the Solos were done with their conversation. There was a sort of uncomfortable pause.
"Keep up the good work." He didn't say 'I guess,' though it sounded like he should have.
"Sure, Dad."
Silence. Han Solo finally turned and left.
Cassandra waited until both father and son were out of the room before falling over in helpless fits of giggles. It took her several minutes before she was coherent enough to tell anyone what had happened. She only stopped laughing when the 'twins' woke up, wanting to know what was going on. That sobered her up quite a bit. She hadn't the faintest idea what to tell them, and they hadn't even seen Boba Fett. This was going to be quite the adventure.
Syra held her breath as her mother and the two clone-kids descended out of the Falcon... the twins, she reminded herself. She was going to have to get used to that. At least they weren't Force-sensitive, and couldn't tell how unnerved she was by the whole thing. At least they hadn't found clones of Kashya and ... she didn't want to think about it. At least they were kids, and not full grown... Syra shook her head. Stop thinking about it.
Her parents were talking quietly to each other, always without looking like they were talking. She could hear their voices over the comm, though, and they didn't sound too worried. Her father sounded like he was tense about something, which was about par for the course. Mother sounded like she was trying to be soothing without being obvious about it. Syra had faint but persistent memories of conversations like this, during the brief times when she saw her father... mother trying to keep him from going after someone or something without alerting him to the fact that she was manipulating him. She'd always thought her mother was rather good at it, but now that she was actually listening...
Syra... she heard inside her mind. It's not nice to eavesdrop.
Sorry, Mom.
Syra smiled. It was good to have her whole family back again.
Her father half-supported, half-dragged Kashya towards the house. From what Syra could tell, she and mother would both need about two weeks of Force-coma, her own private name for the Jedi healing trance. Her mother was herding the 'twins' in, and Syra briefly hoped she wouldn't be asked to take care of them too much. They set off all kinds of alarm bells in her mind, little warning sirens that said 'things should not be like this.' She wondered why anyone would make clones in the first place. And then she felt emotions mirroring her own, radiating from behind her. She turned.
Mom... could you give us a couple minutes alone?
I'll keep your father away, her mother's weary but amused voice spoke back in her mind. Syra, too, smiled.
Thanks.
Out loud, she said. "Give us a few minutes, Solo." It felt odd to be ordering around Jacen's father like that, when she'd been so polite and nice to him before. But he'd never understand that kind of sentiment coming from a Fett. Maybe someday... and then she pushed the thought out of her mind. Her father would never allow it.
Jacen stood there and fidgeted from one foot to the other, looking nervous. Syra wanted to laugh, to cry, to hug him all at the same time. Most of all, she wanted to tell him what was going on.
Why not? Her mother's voice echoed in her mind.
It's not nice to eavesdrop, mother.
I'm not eavesdropping, she replied placidly. You're projecting. Just tell the boy, Syra. He can keep a secret.
Syra took a deep breath. Her father was going to kill her for this.
"We had a bargain, young Solo," she said, in a flat a tone as she could manage. Yeah, her father was going to kill her for this, and maybe Jacen too, and maybe even HIS father. But this was going to be so much fun... "Your friend for Boba Fett."
"Yeah..." Jacen said, guardedly. She could feel his confusion, his curiosity as to where this was going, and his mistrust of anyone under the Mandalorian helmet. A few more seconds. She stepped forward.
"I would be remiss in letting you go without fulfilling my part of the bargain." She'd heard her father say it once. Coming out of the helmet speakers, it did sound damn impressive.
Jacen gulped.
Syra took off her helmet.
Jacen stared.
Syra grinned. This was even more fun with Han Solo sneaking a glance out of the cockpit window. She could almost hear him smacking his head on the ceiling and swearing in astonishment. Jacen just stood there like one o'clock half-struck. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, the crowning gesture in her pageant of hidden identities. It was almost a pity that she wouldn't be going back to the Jedi academy. The looks on all their faces...
"Bargain kept," she said, trying to keep her amusement to a slight smirk. "Have fun at the Academy."
If Han Solo had had a problem with the thought of Boba Fett having a daughter or some other sort of female protege, this was just too much for his mind to handle. The station exploding around him there was not one, not two, but four armored figures walking out of the flames. Four. Two of them carried boys who couldn't be more than eight or ten years old in their arms. He felt his jaw drop and his brain start to shut down. A family of Fetts. And he'd thought he'd seen all the universe had to throw at him. Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that they were speaking. He almost missed the words, as few of them as there were.
"Let's go."
Oh. Okay. Those words, even from a Fett, he could deal with. Especially as they were standing on a landing platform attatched to a station that seemed to be busily engaged in blowing up. Somehow, according to prearranged instructions maybe, the group of Mandalorian armored felons separated. One took the hand of the other boy (twins?) and ran for the Falcon. The other two split themselves between the remaining two ships that had landed there a few seconds earlier. It briefly occured to Han that maybe helmet commlinks to the ship weren't such a bad idea after all. Then they were running up the gangplank and taking off.
"So," Han asked, flipping open the comm and glancing skeptically at his son. "What exactly did you need us for?" He had a direct channel to the other Fett's ship, but wasn't prepared to talk to Boba Fett right at the moment.
Jacen shrugged.
"The Imperials," she said succinctly. Han thought he detected a note of smug glee in her tone.
"The WHAT?"
The Fetts started to roar off. Solo opened his mouth to ask why they didn't just jump to hyperspace when an Interdictor Cruiser's shadow started to loom directly on top of him. That made more sense. He shook off his dazedness and started hitting the throttle as the belly of the Cruiser disgorged a squadron of Tie Fighters.
"Dad..." Jacen said, strapping himself in next to Han. "Do you have any idea what's going on?"
Han looked sideways at his son before juking to the left to avoid being strafed by laser fire. "I was going to ask you the same thing," he muttered, rolling his eyes at the squadron. "Wish you'd thought to recruit Wedge in on this little crazy mission of yours. Get the guns."
Jacen nodded and scurried off for the gunner ports. Han sighed. This wasn't going to be easy.
Laser fire started spraying from the starboard gunner port, and Han silently blessed the foresight that had inspired teaching his son to shoot these things. Jaina would have learned whether her parents wanted to or not, but Jacen had had to be nudged. It wasn't until the port guns started firing, though, that he realized there was someone else in there.
"Jacen!" he yelled, still evading like a maniac. "What's going on up there."
"You needed an extra gun," came the comm-distorted voice, and Han's hands actually froze on the controls for a second. Not Boba, not the impossibly Fett-like Syra, but one of the other Mandalorians. Or whatever they were. Was she also laying claim to the Fett name and reputation? Scary thought.
"Thanks." Han said, and cut off the comm before the "I think." could make its way across the lines.
She must have been coordinating with the other two Fetts. The laser fire from his ship and the fire from the other two ships was too well timed and too precise for anything else to be happening. They made shorter work of the TIE fighters than he could have alone; they almost finished them off quicker than even Rogue Squadron could. Han flipped through, trying to catch them in comm traffic. It didn't work.
"We're safe, for now." Han jumped in his seat. He hadn't heard the armored figure approach. "Plot a course to the planet you came from. We'll leave you there."
He almost wanted to make this armored figure promise that Boba Fett would leave him alone no matter what else happened after this. He didn't. "Are you sure they won't follow us?"
"They won't."
The armored figure left. Han sat there for a few seconds, almost automatically plotting in the fastest course to Cenath that he could figure out on such short notice. Jacen poked his head in a couple times, but withdrew at Han's pensive and frustrated look.
This just didn't make sense. What the hell was going on? Why was an Imperial force big enough to drop in an Interdictor Cruiser at no notice interested in a family of Fetts? Why was there a family of Fetts in the first place? Why were there children involved in this family of Fetts, much less twin boys? He started asking himself the questions out loud, not noticing. Where had all the armor come from? Why was Boba Fett even still alive after the Sarlaac and Nar Shadda and everything else the man had been through? Why was he even with the family of Fetts, given his almost rabid penchant for solo-work and backstabbing his supposed partners?
Why was he talking to himself?
Han stood and punched in the coordinates, remembering at the last second to feed them to the other two ships before they all jumped. He didn't bother to give a count, but they jumped with him anyway. Probably the preternatural Fett instincts. Or maybe the other one was behind him again... he whipped around. Dammit! This was getting to be too much.
He stormed off into what passed for the rec room. Maybe Jacen could shed some light on this, he was the one who had started this errant venture, after all. And then he stopped in the hallway, leaned against one of the walls, and stared.
Maybe not.
Cassandra, her face hidden behind her scrounged-up helmet, smirked. This was giving her smug satisfaction on so many levels. For one thing, it wasn't every day that a former Jedi reject got to tutor a current Jedi student on lightsaber technique. But then again, these weren't exactly Jedi. A school with one teacher, and he had probably been a half-assed student at best, given Jacen's lightsaber skills. And he wasn't a bad student. But still.
She led him through one of the easier drills again, effortlessly blocking the stings from the remote druids. In one corner, curled up on the benches behind the holo-chess table, the 'twins' were sleeping. Jacen followed her movements, managing to get most of them this time. He was also, she sensed through the Force, getting more of an awareness of his surroundings. Good. He wasn't going to be able to match her or even Kashya anytime soon, but he might actually survive his childhood at this rate. If she wasn't mistaken, the fact that he was a Solo and a Jedi would make him a tempting target for more than just the Imperials. It was the same sort of thing that made herself and Kashya such tempting targets...
She pushed the thought out of her mind.
Spikes of disbelief interrupted both her and Jacen's concentration. She didn't have to turn to see Han Solo gaping at both of them with his jaw dropped, and resisted the urge to ask, "What, never seen a Fett with a lightsaber before?" Jacen did turn, and looked very guilty doing so.
"Hey, Dad," he said.
"Hey, son." He said it with almost exaggerated calm. As though his son was trained by someone connected to his mortal enemy all the time. Cassandra was nearly hyperventilating with suppressed laughter.
"Practice going good?"
"Pretty good. I think."
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was suddenly very glad of the helmet.
"We'll be coming out of hyperspace in another hour. You'd probably better wrap it up soon."
"Okay, Dad."
Quiet comments came in through the helmet comm from her daughters. She hushed them until the Solos were done with their conversation. There was a sort of uncomfortable pause.
"Keep up the good work." He didn't say 'I guess,' though it sounded like he should have.
"Sure, Dad."
Silence. Han Solo finally turned and left.
Cassandra waited until both father and son were out of the room before falling over in helpless fits of giggles. It took her several minutes before she was coherent enough to tell anyone what had happened. She only stopped laughing when the 'twins' woke up, wanting to know what was going on. That sobered her up quite a bit. She hadn't the faintest idea what to tell them, and they hadn't even seen Boba Fett. This was going to be quite the adventure.
Syra held her breath as her mother and the two clone-kids descended out of the Falcon... the twins, she reminded herself. She was going to have to get used to that. At least they weren't Force-sensitive, and couldn't tell how unnerved she was by the whole thing. At least they hadn't found clones of Kashya and ... she didn't want to think about it. At least they were kids, and not full grown... Syra shook her head. Stop thinking about it.
Her parents were talking quietly to each other, always without looking like they were talking. She could hear their voices over the comm, though, and they didn't sound too worried. Her father sounded like he was tense about something, which was about par for the course. Mother sounded like she was trying to be soothing without being obvious about it. Syra had faint but persistent memories of conversations like this, during the brief times when she saw her father... mother trying to keep him from going after someone or something without alerting him to the fact that she was manipulating him. She'd always thought her mother was rather good at it, but now that she was actually listening...
Syra... she heard inside her mind. It's not nice to eavesdrop.
Sorry, Mom.
Syra smiled. It was good to have her whole family back again.
Her father half-supported, half-dragged Kashya towards the house. From what Syra could tell, she and mother would both need about two weeks of Force-coma, her own private name for the Jedi healing trance. Her mother was herding the 'twins' in, and Syra briefly hoped she wouldn't be asked to take care of them too much. They set off all kinds of alarm bells in her mind, little warning sirens that said 'things should not be like this.' She wondered why anyone would make clones in the first place. And then she felt emotions mirroring her own, radiating from behind her. She turned.
Mom... could you give us a couple minutes alone?
I'll keep your father away, her mother's weary but amused voice spoke back in her mind. Syra, too, smiled.
Thanks.
Out loud, she said. "Give us a few minutes, Solo." It felt odd to be ordering around Jacen's father like that, when she'd been so polite and nice to him before. But he'd never understand that kind of sentiment coming from a Fett. Maybe someday... and then she pushed the thought out of her mind. Her father would never allow it.
Jacen stood there and fidgeted from one foot to the other, looking nervous. Syra wanted to laugh, to cry, to hug him all at the same time. Most of all, she wanted to tell him what was going on.
Why not? Her mother's voice echoed in her mind.
It's not nice to eavesdrop, mother.
I'm not eavesdropping, she replied placidly. You're projecting. Just tell the boy, Syra. He can keep a secret.
Syra took a deep breath. Her father was going to kill her for this.
"We had a bargain, young Solo," she said, in a flat a tone as she could manage. Yeah, her father was going to kill her for this, and maybe Jacen too, and maybe even HIS father. But this was going to be so much fun... "Your friend for Boba Fett."
"Yeah..." Jacen said, guardedly. She could feel his confusion, his curiosity as to where this was going, and his mistrust of anyone under the Mandalorian helmet. A few more seconds. She stepped forward.
"I would be remiss in letting you go without fulfilling my part of the bargain." She'd heard her father say it once. Coming out of the helmet speakers, it did sound damn impressive.
Jacen gulped.
Syra took off her helmet.
Jacen stared.
Syra grinned. This was even more fun with Han Solo sneaking a glance out of the cockpit window. She could almost hear him smacking his head on the ceiling and swearing in astonishment. Jacen just stood there like one o'clock half-struck. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, the crowning gesture in her pageant of hidden identities. It was almost a pity that she wouldn't be going back to the Jedi academy. The looks on all their faces...
"Bargain kept," she said, trying to keep her amusement to a slight smirk. "Have fun at the Academy."