Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Shezan, about the quibble:
yes, I suppose Thrawn didn't mind improvising (in fact, he probably welcomed
the chance to cope with unforeseen problems as a rare and exciting
challenge). But Rolan isn't exactly Thrawn (not quite yet, anyway), although
he too would probably enjoy using his mind through improvisation. Thanks
for pointing that out. Starknight, glad you liked the Monty Python
reference. And, you guessed right about the "certain notorious bounty hunter"...
Chapter 4: A Ghost From the Past (enter Boba Fett)
NOTE: This chapter deviates a little from the rest of the story's timeline. This takes place when Laira is thirteen, during the year that VotF took place in (one year before Chapter 2). The setting is Nar Resaad, a small Hutt-controlled colony on the Outer Rim, and a home to smugglers, Huttese crime syndicates, and quite a few ordinary people living out their lives with an outward respect for the law.
And, yes Starknight, this is the chapter *grins*...
"It is a wise child that knows his own father."
--Homer
"Derano cannot handle everything alone, Captain Tiers."
"No, he cannot, Admiral."
"And what do you suggest we do about that?"
"I recommend bringing in another...agent."
"Another bounty hunter, you mean?"
"That is not a necessary qualification, though it would be useful to employ one. Bounty hunters have certain skills useful for an Imperial operative. If a Hunter wants to live more than two weeks they must have a certain amount of...skill. As well as resourcefulness, courage, and plain intelligence."
"They also have the morality of a rancor. Perhaps the late Lord Vader and the Emperor condoned the use of bounty hunters, but we are not that same Empire. I expect Imperial operatives to have a certain amount of...dignity. And cold-hearted mercenaries do not fit that qualification."
"While it is true that many bounty hunters are little more than animals, a few of them fight for something greater than themselves."
"I take it you have a specific Hunter in mind, Tiers?"
"Yes, sir. I do, actually."
"Well then, who is it?"
"Boba Fett."
"You don't think small, do you, Captain?"
"Have you ever known me to, sir?"
"No, Tiers, I have not. Although this plan of yours sounds rather unorthodox, I must admit that your plans rarely go awry."
"Thrawn taught me well, sir."
"Yes, Aroh. He certainly did...Very well, captain. I will go along with your plan. Get in touch with Fett as soon as possible."
"I...already contacted him, sir. He agreed to aid us."
"You already contacted him? Well then, the Grand Admiral taught
you very well indeed..."
Two people walked into a bar.
Both were dressed in typical spacer's garb. One was an athletic, middle-aged man wearing a nerfskin jacket. He was a head taller than the second person, who was smaller, more slender--yet by no means petite. She too wore a spacer's jumpsuit and jacket, making her look like a smaller version of the first person.
"Hello, Derano," greeted the bartender, a former freighter pilot. His name was Avan Tholman, but the locals called him "Grandpa Ave". Apparently he had once been big in the smuggling trade, having mentored a great many younger smugglers. He had recently retired and bought a cantina-motel. However, despite his checkered background, the Wanderer's Inn had a reputation as one of the "cleaner" cantinas on Nar Resaad. Avan would always make sure that his customers remained sober enough to walk home safely, and never let any "bad news" poke inside.
Avan gave his standard greeting, "Hello, and welcome to the Wanderer's Inn. If you're a member of Black Sun or a bounty hunter 'on business', leave here now. I aim to keep this a clean bar. Or, as clean as you can get on Nar Resaad."
Derano smiled at the old speech. "You know I haven't been 'on business' for over ten years."
"Hey, you know me, pal," Avan replied glibly. "I greet 'em all alike. So, 'Rano, how's life treatin' you? And is that your little Laira? Not so little anymore, I see."
Laira gave one of her rare smiles. "It's good to see you, Avan."
"And you too," Avan replied, a huge grin forming behind his grizzled beard. There was an awkward moment as the three stared at each other.
Then Avan spoke up again. "Aw, what the heck." With a booming laugh, he reached out and embraced the not-quite-so-little Laira, trying to lift her off the floor, as he had when she was little. He failed.
Laira, unused to such displays of affection, endured it for the sake of her--and her father's--old friend.
Avan chuckled. "I remember when you were as tall as that serving droid. But time flies, I guess. Aw, where have you two been? I haven't seen you in years."
"Around," Derano replied, taking a seat at the bar. Laira closely followed suit.
" 'Around'," Avan repeated, laughing as he filled two glasses of juri juice. "Always so secretive. And serious. Look at your poor daughter, you're teaching her to be the same way."
Laira gave him a Look, making sure to keep her face perfectly deadpan and devoid of all expression.
Avan shook his head ruefully. "Naw, she's worse than you, Derano. Never thought I'd see that."
Derano laughed, a sound that seemed unpracticed, yet vaguely refreshing. "I do all I can," he replied, referring to his parenting skills. Or lack thereof.
"And you've done great," Laira insisted, looking straight into her father's eyes.
Derano smiled ruefully. "Sometimes I think you would've been better off with your real parents--not gallivanting around the galaxy with me."
"You are my real parent," Laira replied firmly. From an average teenage girl, that statement would have sounded sappy and rather insincere. But Laira had little use for the sappy and sentimental things of life. She meant what she had said. Completely.
Derano grinned at his daughter. An average family might have hugged at that point, but the Voranns were hardly average. They were not easily given to outward displays of affection, but anyone who knew them well could tell that the affection was already there.
"Time for some music," Avan said, turning on the audio-player. He put on a lively, upbeat tune from the Modal Nodes.
"So," Avan went on, starting a conversation that otherwise wouldn't have come up. "Has Laira found a boyfriend yet?"
"No, we move around too much for that," Derano replied. "Thank the Force," he muttered.
Avan chuckled. "It'll have to come sometime, Derano."
"Not if I can help it."
"Who needs boys anyway?" Laira interrupted. "I've met boys my age--all they care about is sports, music, and something called MusicHoloTV. MHTV. MTV. Something like that." She rolled her eyes. "They are so childish."
"They get better as they grow," Avan replied, with his usual upbeat attitude.
"And some of them never grow," Derano added pessimistically.
"Then how do I find the mature ones?" Laira asked, a spark of youthful curiosity shining through her normally serious features.
"Trial and error," Avan replied, laughing. "Sometimes you find a few sour grapes before you find the sweet ones."
"What?" Laira asked, utterly confused.
Avan shook his head. "Something my mother used to say. What I mean is, you may find a few bad boyfriends before you meet a good one."
"And that's what my blaster's for," Derano interrupted, patting the holster on his belt.
"It just takes time," Avan continued, ignoring his friend. "Though I
must say,
your dad may frighten a few of them off."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Derano replied, giving one of his rare laughs.
Laira smiled, amused by the two's bickering. "Well, I'm going to be very selective about my first boyfriend. He will have to be mature, of course. And intelligent."
"And able to handle himself in a blaster fight," Derano added.
"Able to win a blaster fight," Laira corrected, grinning mischievously. "And handle a ship, as well."
"He'll have to know how to deal with arrogant Imperial officers," Avan spoke up, recalling his smuggling days. "Especially if he's got a load of spice in the backseat."
"Or a bounty hunter on his tail," Derano replied.
"A former bounty hunter, you mean," Avan said, smirking. Derano took a moment to realize that Avan had been referring to him.
"I wouldn't go back to my old career for the sake of one boy ... Unless, of course, he was being a nuisance."
"May the Force help Laira's first boyfriend..."
The three broke out laughing. The other customers turned around to give them weird looks.
Laira stopped laughing long enough to examine them. No, these weren't merely confused looks. These were looks of fear. And they weren't directed at Avan and Derano. They were directed at something behind them—
Laira immediately whirled around in her seat, her posture tensed and her senses alert.
A hush had fallen over the entire bar.
An armored man stood in the doorway, a large blaster rifle slung over his back. The setting sun glinted off of his armor, obscuring his features.
Not that she would have been able to see them anyway, Laira corrected herself. For the man wore a T-shaped helmet.
Of the Mandalorian style.
Avan and Derano had stopped laughing long enough to sense the silent commotion. Both men turned to watch the armored intruder.
The newcomer's mask shifted ever so slightly as he scanned the room, his gaze seeming to pierce through the bravado of every last smuggler and businessman in the place. His gaze stopped at the bar, where Derano and Laira sat. He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
"Derano Vorann," he greeted, giving the slightest nod of his helmet.
Derano stood and nodded in return. "Boba Fett," he replied, a slight edge to his voice.
The armored man strode over to them, his boots making soft treading noises on the cantina's wooden floors.
The other customers made a point of looking away. Conversation resumed—this time in hushed whispers.
"What brings you here, Fett?" Derano asked, his tone low with suspicion.
"Old business," Fett replied, his tone vaguely raspy and utterly emotionless.
So this was Boba Fett. The bounty hunter extraordinaire. The merciless killing machine. A legend among criminals and respectable citizens alike.
Laira examined every inch of the newcomer. She could spot six different lethal weapons on his person--and that was just after five seconds of looking. Laira would bet the Starrunner that there were at least fifteen more weapons hidden out of her sight.
Fett noticed Laira's staring, and gave her a piercing gaze of his own.
A bounty hunter with Fett's reputation was probably used to seeing people cower in fear at the sight of his battle-scarred armor. In fact, being so feared probably gave him a feeling of satisfaction, happiness even (if such a man could feel anything as human as happiness). Well, Alaira Vorann wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flinch.
Laira glared back, her posture erect and proud, never once cowering from his stare. She looked right at the helmet, at the darkened visor where his eyes were supposed to be. However, though she didn't show it, inwardly she was tense with fear.
Boba Fett was now looking at Derano, as if he were examining him and his weaknesses. Laira tensed even more. Was he here to kill her father? If so, then she would have to stop it. Somehow.
No, the calm, rational part of Laira's mind told her. If he were here to kill anyone, he would have done it already.
"I need to discuss something with you, Derano," Fett suddenly spoke.
"Very well," Laira's father replied, his acceptance sounding somewhat forced.
Derano's eyes met Laira's. An unspoken conversation seemed to pass between them. Go back to the ship, Laira, I must do this alone, Derano's gaze said.
Laira crossed her arms in a posture that clearly communicated her reluctance to leave Derano alone with the galaxy's most infamous bounty hunter. No way, Father. I'm staying with you.
Fett interrupted their unspoken words. He turned to Derano. "Is this your daughter?" he asked, giving a pointed look in Laira's direction.
"Yes," Derano replied, struggling to keep his voice neutral.
Once again, Fett turned his iron gaze on Laira. Then, after a short silence, he asked, "Are you training her?"
"No," Derano responded, vehemently shaking his head. "Never. Not in the trade you're referring to."
Derano abruptly rose from his stool, causing it to make a slight screech across the floor. "We can talk in your ship. Away from this," he gestured at the various cantina patrons, who were all eavesdropping and desperately trying to hide it.
Fett nodded, starting towards the door, his pace neither hurried nor relaxed, merely methodical.
Laira got up to follow, but Derano stopped her with a look. "Stay here, Laira. I'll be back soon."
"Father..." Laira began, her voice trailing off. She shot an intense glare at Fett, who met it evenly. Perhaps it wasn't wise to threaten Boba Fett (despite the fact that it was unspoken), but Laira didn't care.
Laira felt a hollow dread as she watched her father leave.
"What did Fett want with you?" Laira demanded as soon as her father returned to the Starrunner.
Derano sighed. "It's complicated, Laira."
"Did he try to..."
"No, he didn't try to capture me for a bounty."
"Then why did he want you?!"
Derano sat down, his face weary. Laira looked at her father, concerned. He seemed lost in memories. He looked at his daughter with a grim expression and eyes that had witnessed many terrible things in their time.
"It's complicated..." Derano began, then broke off, realizing that he was repeating himself. He took a deep breath and met his daughter's gaze. "But you deserve to know."
Laira sat down next to him.
"You see," Derano began quietly, his tone telling Laira to refrain from asking questions until the end of his explanation, "I have known Boba Fett for a long time, ever since he was a young man just getting started in the bounty hunting trade. I was older than him, and at the time, far more experienced. But even then, I could see his potential. He wasn't just another punk amateur who gets killed their first month of Hunting. No, he was different.
"I saved his life once. We were both competing for a bounty, a certain "sacred" jewel, to be exact...I found it first and had it stashed on my ship, and Fett--a boy of about seventeen years, with all of two month's experience as a Hunter, flying an obsolete junk heap that was about to fall apart--had the audacity to challenge my claim to it." Here Derano gave a bitter grin, though Laira sensed that he was not without admiration for the young Fett's boldness.
"We had a bit of a dogfight, but I was more experienced, and managed to send his ship into the gravity well of a collapsing star, where I believed that his ship would eventually be sucked in and...destroyed." Laira looked up at her father, surprised at his confession. Surely her father wouldn't kill someone if he could help it. But then again, her father had once been a hardened bounty hunter...like Fett.
No, Laira told herself. Not like Fett. My father changed--that's all that matters. He's not the same man he once was. He's not a ruthless mercenary. Not anymore.
Laira gave her father a slight, reassuring smile, showing him that she bore no ill will towards him for his bounty hunting days.
Derano took a deep breath, then continued.
"I then went to turn in the bounty in the next system. To my surprise, when I returned to the scene of the fight, I found Fett's ship, still on the outer edges of the gravity well. The ship was battered and looked like it was about to come apart at the seams, but it was hanging in there. I was impressed by Fett's tenacity, and used my ship's tractor beams to pull his out of the well. His ship was clearly in no shape to fight mine, and Fett wisely chose not to waste his efforts in a pointless act of revenge. I left his ship there, where Fett could easily repair it within one or two days, and went on to my next assignment."
The story, however, was not yet over.
"I later met up with him again, at a bar on Othos VII. He recognized me, and I prepared to defend myself. But Fett instead thanked me for saving his life. He said that he owed me a debt, and asked if there was any way he could repay it.
" 'Take some advice from me, kid,' I told him. 'A real bounty hunter doesn't care about debts. You don't owe me anything, Fett.'"
"But Fett insisted. So I told him he could repay his 'debt' by helping me out with one of my bounty assignments. In reality, I could have easily handled the assignment in question alone, but I was curious to see how Fett worked.
"Young Fett accepted my proposal, and together we took on the assignment. I was much impressed by his abilities. He definitely had potential, though he wasn't as experienced as I was. So I...coached him a little. Gave him a few tips."
Laira was in disbelief. "You taught Boba Fett?!"
Derano gave a slightly awkward smile. "Not really 'taught' exactly...but, I suppose you could call it that. It was almost a mentor-student type of thing. Very informal, though. Occasionally Fett would seek me out and ask me advice, though not that often. And the 'lessons' stopped a long time ago."
"What was Fett's latest meeting about then?" pressed Laira.
But Derano was no longer forthcoming. "It doesn't matter, Laira."
Laira stood up abruptly, her hands on her hips. "Don't give me that, Father. I know it was something important from the look on your face!"
"Laira, please," Derano replied, putting an arm on his daughter's shoulder. "This is something you shouldn't know about. I can't tell you any more than that, Laira. I do this for your own safety."
"For my own safety? I am not afraid, whatever it is. Maybe I can help you..."
"No," Derano insisted. Laira opened her mouth to object, then stopped as she saw the solemn expression on her father's face. Even more solemn that usual. And even a little frightened.
For her? For himself? For Fett, even?
"I love you, Alaira," Derano said, giving his daughter a brief, but strong embrace.
"I love you too, Father," Laira replied.
And that's why I'm going to find out what's going on, Father--and
help you, if I can...
I'm not making any promises about the date of my next update. All I can say is that it will be in about one week. (But I won't abandon this fic as long as I keep getting reviews...*hint hint*) :-D
Next chapter we will join Rolan, Jaec, and Sorias in Art class, and (as I said earlier) Rolan will recieve the first real clue to his identity. *suspenseful music plays*
