Chapter III - Aren't Kids Great?
It was one thing to say you could handle sixteen Jedi children for two weeks, quite another to actually attempt the feat. As it was, the Osmonds were going to have to replace the TV that one child, imitating a teras kasi move, had put his foot through, and a neighbor had called to inquire if they knew anything about her missing cat. At last Anakin brought them into the living room for a lesson, leaving the brothers to clean up the mess as best they could and find the poor feline.
"Good evening," Anakin said once all the children were sitting before him. "I am Master Anakin Skywalker, your teacher for the time being."
Someone in the back made an obscene noise with their lips.
"And if the child who gave me such a warm welcome repeats his greeting, he shall spend tomorrow writing an essay on the Jedi Code." When all was quiet again, he resumed. "I am not familiar with you, so when I call your name please answer."
From the doorway Austin observed the proceedings. It was an amazing sight to see sixteen children between the ages of three and ten sitting so peacefully, bearing no resemblance to the crazed little Jawas who had been running amok just ten minutes ago. They didn't even chatter or annoy their neighbors. Of course, he would be silent mighty quick if a guy dressed like Darth Vader was standing in front of him.
"Minos Woboporo?" asked Anakin, glancing at his datapad.
"Here," answered a Balosaur boy.
"Ressk?"
"Here," rasped a Trandoshan girl.
"Ghede Starkiller?"
"I'm over here!" called a human boy.
"Rachel Church?"
"Here!" cried Rachel, waving enthusiastically.
"Ra-Sheen?"
"Uh-huh," replied a Gran girl.
"Niya Nyssa?"
"Here," said a red-skinned Twi'leck girl.
"Shazzu?"
"Ey chuba," a Rodian boy grunted.
"Brandon Gomez?"
"Right here," a human boy piped up.
"Nautala?"
No answer.
"Nautala?" he repeated sternly.
"Huh?" the Mon Calamari boy replied, looking up.
Anakin extended a hand, and the boy sheepishly handed over the Game Boy.
"There will be plenty of time tomorrow for activities such as this," he told the child. "But lessons come first." He looked back at the roster. "Kendo Boka?"
"Here," answered the Skakoan boy, his voice tinny within his pressurization suit.
"Chentarra?"
The brindle-furred Wookie boy roared.
"Tomas Brekke?"
"Here," the human boy squeaked, his voice barely audible.
Anakin looked up. "Is something wrong, Tomas?"
Tomas' answer was a whimper. "You aren't gonna hurt me for what I did, are you?"
Anakin looked blankly at the child a moment. "So you're the one who did that at the beginning of the roll call."
Tomas nodded, looking ready to cry.
"Rest assured, Tomas, I'm not going to hurt you."
"But you're Darth Vader," he whined.
Anakin looked around at all the children. "I understand now. You think I'm Darth Vader, don't you? You're afraid I'm going to do something horrible to you if you don't obey me."
Everyone but Rachel nodded.
Austin could sympathize. Vader had been an intimidating figure -- and still was. To a young child, he would appear as scary as Jason from "Friday the 13th" would to an adult. They wouldn't understand that he was Anakin Skywalker now. He waited, wondering how Anakin was going to handle this.
Anakin sat down, crossing his legs so his pose was identical to the children's. Now that he no longer towered over them, they all seemed to relax a little.
"I was once Darth Vader," he acknowledged. "But I am not Vader anymore. I am Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi Knight. There is no reason to be afraid of me. If there were, your master wouldn't have left you in my care."
"Why do we have two Master Skywalkers?" asked Ra-Sheen.
"Because Master Luke Skywalker is my son," Anakin replied.
"Really?" "No way!" "I knew that!" "That's cool!" "Do you look like him?"
Austin winked at Anakin. The Jedi nodded back before turning back to the datapad.
"Jess Fey'la?"
"Here," the Bothan girl replied.
"Isabel Thayer?"
"Here!" shouted the human girl.
"Shem Tio?"
"Here," crooned the Kaminoan boy.
"Luno Seth?"
"Here," answered the Zabrak boy.
"Well then," Anakin went on, setting the clipboard aside, "Master Luke informs me that you've all been working on exploring the living Force. Let us continue that line of study. Are you all ready?"
There was a chorus of answers, mostly affirmative.
"Relax," Anakin told them, his voice taking on a dreamy tone. "Feel the Force around you. In yourself. In the person next to you. In all that surrounds you. Every rock, every tree, every building, every animal and person, all intertwined in the vastness of the living Force."
"I don't feel anything!" whined Isabel.
"It may help to think about a particular person or object first," Anakin suggested. "Find the core of the Force within that, then extend your senses further."
Austin felt like an outsider as he watched the children sink into meditative trances, guided by their substitute teacher. If he hadn't known otherwise, he would have simply assumed it was nap time and the teacher was making the kids sleep sitting up. How would he have known? He was so Force-blind he wouldn't have recognized a premonition in the Force if it bit him in the rear. How did this mysterious energy work anyway?
"Hey, I found Mrs. Albany's cat," whispered Jason, joining Anakin at the doorway holding the disheveled animal. "He was in the dishwasher. Lucky thing it wasn't turned on." He took a glance at the kids. "Look at that; a room full of little Buddhas."
"Show some respect," Austin advised. "They don't complain that you look weird doing something."
Jason looked about ready to fire off a retort, then thought better of it. "So when are you and Lib going on your honeymoon?" he asked instead.
"Last evening of Stellar-Con," Austin replied. "We'll be taking a cruise in the Florida Keys."
"Wow, pricey. Did you take out a mortgage for this or what?"
"Actually, Liberty's parents are footing the bill. It's a wedding present."
"Sweet! Wish my folks were that generous. What'll Trapper do while you're gone?"
"He'll go back to Chicago for the two weeks we're gone, then come back for the rest of the summer."
Jason sighed. "How convenient. Your honeymoon in Florida, Han and Leia's honeymoon on Mon Calamari, Luke's jaunt to... wherever, and Liz and Boba's trip to Corusant to pick up the kid all coincide. Is the Elite falling apart or what?"
Austin laughed. "Of course not. We just all have lives outside the Elite. Except Zack, of course, but he wouldn't be Zack if he weren't a full-blown stereotypical geek."
"Twenty-nine, lives with his mom, no girlfriend, no job, waaaayyy late going through puberty, thinks its a mortal sin to open the package on anything that has Star Was slapped on the label... yup, Zack all the way."
"But seriously, this club's held for six years. I think it's here to stay."
Jason watched the children a moment. "What'd you think of Smellar-Con's opening today?"
"Not much different than usual. Mr. Cage was forty-five minutes late, a guy ran through the courtyard wearing nothing but Spock ears, the speech put everyone to sleep, the Sons of the Sith got in a slugfest with the NYC Rebel Alliance chapter... all we've come to expect from our lovely Stellar-Con."
"Nova-Con'll be better," Jason noted.
"Dad, are they done yet?" demanded Trapper.
"Not yet," Austin replied. "And don't yell or you'll disturb them."
"Sorry. But I was hoping they'd be able to play soon. I'm tired of playing by myself."
"After their lesson they'll be put to bed. Speaking of which, it's time we went home and threw you in bed too."
"Aw, man!"
The lobby of the Corusant office of the Galactic Adoption Agency was teeming with children -- children being introduced to their new parents, children sitting beside their social workers and kicking their feet anxiously, children playing with toys in the corners of the room or racing about making starship noises. Eager new parents lined up at the window to fill out the remaining paperwork for claiming their child. Others stood, waiting to be paired with a youngster.
Fett shifted restlessly from foot to foot. Fatherhood was uncharted territory for him, and he felt woefully unprepared for the experience. Had his own father expressed similar anxieties while placing his clone order?
"Honey," Liz whispered, "you're rocking like a hyperactive astromech."
"I'm just nervous," he replied. "But don't tell anyone I said that."
"The galaxy's best bounty hunter, nervous?" Liz feigned shock. "Don't worry; so am I. I never thought I'd be doing this."
A little Chiss boy ran over and picked up the brightly colored ball that had rolled to Fett's feet. When he looked up at the hunter, his red eyes went wide and an expression of awe came over his deep blue features.
"Wow, Boba Fett!" he gushed.
Fett nodded.
"You're so cool! When I grow up I'm going to be a bounty hunter just like you!"
"I'll keep an eye out for you, little one."
"'Bye!" He ran off.
Liz chuckled. "Wouldn't it be neat if he were ours?"
"It would," Fett acknowledged. "But it is not to be." He pointed as a human social worker coaxed the boy over and introduced him to his new parents.
"Mr. and Mrs. Fett?"
They turned to see a blue-skinned Twi'leck social worker whose name tag read Saala approaching them. A child followed her. Was this to be theirs?
Fett hoped not. Stars, how he hoped not. It wasn't as if he was xenophobic. Far from it. In fact, to be xenophobic was quite dangerous. Humans who disliked aliens were apt to have their throats cut, especially on melting-pot worlds like Corusant.
But he hated Hutts. Most everyone hated Hutts. And the child slithering along behind the worker, leaving a sickly trail of greenish slime, was undeniably a Hutt.
Liz's hand gripped his, and he could see her working to suppress her revulsion. He, too, steeled himself. Hutt or no, this was an orphan, or at least a child whose parents couldn't provide for it. It needed a loving home, and if that loving home was to be theirs, so be it. After all, they had not specified a preferred species, so they had no right to complain.
"Well, he's not what we expected," Liz noted weakly.
"Oh no, I was just going to ask you to please step aside," Saala told them. "Mrs. Panna the Hutt is here to pick up her child."
They backed away, and a massive, fully-grown Hutt slid forward and extended her fat arms toward the child.
Fett sighed in relief. Then he reached out to steady Liz as she slipped on the Hutt's slime trail.
"Can we get a janitor droid down here?! shouted Saala. In a calmer tone she addressed the Fetts. "Now, about your baby. We've already chosen one for you. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," Liz replied. "Boy or girl?"
"It's a girl, and I wanted to talk to you about her. Her parents lived on Tatooine but were killed in a pirate attack two weeks ago. Her records were destroyed, so we have no information on her, not even a name or birthdate. We estimate her to be around three months old."
Fett and Liz exchanged glances. The pirates of Tatooine again? How much more carnage would be wrought before Luke and his company got to the bottom of this?
"I thought I'd caution you, because often babies who have gone through trauma are easily upset. And later in life, though they might not remember the incident, they might develop a little slower, be a little more clingy, or otherwise show signs of post-traumatic disorder. Now you can always say no if you want..."
"We would be glad to take her in," Fett told her.
"We'll love her no matter what she's been through," Liz added.
A Besalisk woman approached, carrying three babies and a fussy toddler in her eight arms. Saala took one baby and deposited her gently in Liz's arms.
"She's beautiful," Liz whispered.
/Indeed she is/ thought Fett. She was asleep, one tiny fist pressed to her mouth. Two white lekku, striped in blue and white and plump with baby fat, framed a scarlet-and- white face, and similarly striped horn-like growths topped her head. A Togruta child, Fett remembered, the same species as the late Jedi Master Shaak Ti.
Carefully, afraid he might bruise her smooth skin, he reached out with a finger and brushed her chubby cheek.
She coughed, and he drew back, but she only relaxed and went back to sleep. As if sensing his thoughts, Liz transferred the little one to his arms. He cradled her clumsily, trying to get used to the warm bundle in his arms, then held her and studied her features, counted her little fingers and toes.
A feather-light pressure registered, and he saw that she had closed her tiny hand around his finger.
Liz leaned toward him. "What should we name her?"
Fett thought for a moment. "You choose," he told her.
She stared at their baby a moment. "Naomi. After my aunt."
He nodded in agreement. "Naomi Fett, I'm your father. This gorgeous woman is your mother. And we're going to spoil you rotten."
"Now if you'll just complete some paperwork, you can take her home," Saala told them. Then she whirled as two Quarren children who'd been chasing each other around with toy lightsabers slid through the Hutt's trail and landed in a noisy heap. "Excuse me a moment."
TK-577 didn't really believe all that bantha poodoo about Master Luke Skywalker sending one of his apprentices to manage the Executor during Piett's absence. He'd never met Anakin's son or any of his students before, but this guy just seemed a little... off? Unbalanced? Weird? And though he carried a lightsaber, he didn't dress like a Jedi.
But with Piett missing, the Executor Garrison had little choice but to do as this Krad the Destroyer bloke ordered. Anyone with the surname Destroyer wasn't bound to be pleasant if you screwed up.
As the stormtrooper stood at attention on the bridge, awaiting new orders, he couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Krad. He seemed pretty lonely, always staring out the viewports brooding over something. Vader had done that a lot too, he remembered.
He didn't know what species Krad was, but he was quite visually striking. His limbs were muscular but slender, and his broad shoulders and chest tapered down to narrow hips and waist. His clawed hands were clenched behind his back, and his square-jawed, noseless face contemplated the starscape expressionlessly. Tentacular fleshy growths replaced hair on his scalp, and he possessed piercing gray eyes that contained no pupils or irises. His frame was encased in smooth, blood-red hide, and he wore black reptile-skin armor and an Earth-type garment known as a trench coat. He looked very Vaderish in those clothes, but 577 didn't think it would be wise to point that out.
"Soldier," he said at last, rolling the R slightly.
"Yes, sir?"
"The others inform me that you have had a good deal of contact with Darth Vader," he said, continuing to stare at the stars.
"That's true," 577 admitted. "But I think you mean Anakin Skywalker. He changed his name a year ago."
Krad turned slowly to regard him. He remembered what the officers on this scrapyard of a ship had said about the Jedi's eyes -- "remarkable," they'd called them. 577 thought "haunted" was a better adjective. It was as if those steel-gray eyes had seen a tragedy of tremendous scope, as if their owner bore a crushing weight in his heart. But there was a fire there too, a fury, a drive for retribution. 577 made a mental note to never piss this guy off.
"So he did." Krad took two long deliberate strides, bringing himself to stand directly in front of the trooper. 577 gulped. Skywalker had been tall, but Krad was gigantic, easily as tall as a Wookie.
"Your name, soldier."
"TK-577," he squeaked.
"Not your number. Your name."
"That's it, sir."
"No soldier working for me is going by a number," Krad hissed. "You will receive a name. Think of one."
577 scowled. What was wrong with his number? It was a perfectly good one, even if it was a bit more of a mouthful than most others. If Krad was going to force names on all the troops, he'd soon have a mutiny on his hands.
"I'll select one for you, since you can't decide." Krad scrutinized 577 carefully. "Where did you get those marks on your chestplate?"
He glanced down at the scratches in his armor. He was quite proud of those battle scars and had not wanted them repaired. They were badges of honor.
"Three years back Rebels jumped the Executor," he explained. "A few made it aboard and one brought his pet massif along for the fight. It knocked me over and started gnawing. I must have shot that Sith-spawned critter ten times before it keeled over, and I was still pulling pieces of its fangs out of me a week later."
"Very well," Krad replied, nodding. "Fangs it is."
"Is what?"
"Your name. And Fangs, I want you to prepare a written report containing all the information you have regarding Skywalker."
"But I have guard duty on the..."
"You're excused from it. Now go."
577 cursed under his breath as he stomped back to his quarters. Fangs! Of all the names in the galaxy, he got tagged Fangs! No way was he going to keep that ridiculous moniker after Piett returned.
"Yo 577!" 333 shouted, jogging to catch up with his comrade. "You look bluer than an Ortolan who got told he couldn't have seconds. Did you get a bum name too?"
"He called me Fangs," 577 snarled.
333 laughed. "Name fits the massif who mauled you better."
"Oh yeah? And I suppose you got a better tag?"
333 gestured grandly to his chest. "Introducing, from the planet Kamino, the one, the onnnnllyyyyyyyyyy -- Dodger!"
"At least yours is halfway decent. I'll bet mine's the dumbest on the ship."
"Don't count on it. You know 836 on North End? The one with the cybernetic leg? He's now Gadget. And the new stealth troopers? All six got weird names -- Mystic, Wizard, Padawan, Magic, Legend, and Force."
"Wow, winners. Guess I got off kinda light."
"Hey, guess what? 409 -- ah, I guess it's Blade now -- but he's got a copy of 'Weekend at Bernie's.' Wanna come watch it with us?"
"Can't. Destroyer-boy wants me to write a report on..."
"So write it while you watch! C'mon! We got all kinds of Earth junk food! Let's live it up while we don't have a battle to fight!"
577 shrugged. Krad hadn't given a date he wanted the report by, so what harm was there in watching a quick movie?
It was one thing to say you could handle sixteen Jedi children for two weeks, quite another to actually attempt the feat. As it was, the Osmonds were going to have to replace the TV that one child, imitating a teras kasi move, had put his foot through, and a neighbor had called to inquire if they knew anything about her missing cat. At last Anakin brought them into the living room for a lesson, leaving the brothers to clean up the mess as best they could and find the poor feline.
"Good evening," Anakin said once all the children were sitting before him. "I am Master Anakin Skywalker, your teacher for the time being."
Someone in the back made an obscene noise with their lips.
"And if the child who gave me such a warm welcome repeats his greeting, he shall spend tomorrow writing an essay on the Jedi Code." When all was quiet again, he resumed. "I am not familiar with you, so when I call your name please answer."
From the doorway Austin observed the proceedings. It was an amazing sight to see sixteen children between the ages of three and ten sitting so peacefully, bearing no resemblance to the crazed little Jawas who had been running amok just ten minutes ago. They didn't even chatter or annoy their neighbors. Of course, he would be silent mighty quick if a guy dressed like Darth Vader was standing in front of him.
"Minos Woboporo?" asked Anakin, glancing at his datapad.
"Here," answered a Balosaur boy.
"Ressk?"
"Here," rasped a Trandoshan girl.
"Ghede Starkiller?"
"I'm over here!" called a human boy.
"Rachel Church?"
"Here!" cried Rachel, waving enthusiastically.
"Ra-Sheen?"
"Uh-huh," replied a Gran girl.
"Niya Nyssa?"
"Here," said a red-skinned Twi'leck girl.
"Shazzu?"
"Ey chuba," a Rodian boy grunted.
"Brandon Gomez?"
"Right here," a human boy piped up.
"Nautala?"
No answer.
"Nautala?" he repeated sternly.
"Huh?" the Mon Calamari boy replied, looking up.
Anakin extended a hand, and the boy sheepishly handed over the Game Boy.
"There will be plenty of time tomorrow for activities such as this," he told the child. "But lessons come first." He looked back at the roster. "Kendo Boka?"
"Here," answered the Skakoan boy, his voice tinny within his pressurization suit.
"Chentarra?"
The brindle-furred Wookie boy roared.
"Tomas Brekke?"
"Here," the human boy squeaked, his voice barely audible.
Anakin looked up. "Is something wrong, Tomas?"
Tomas' answer was a whimper. "You aren't gonna hurt me for what I did, are you?"
Anakin looked blankly at the child a moment. "So you're the one who did that at the beginning of the roll call."
Tomas nodded, looking ready to cry.
"Rest assured, Tomas, I'm not going to hurt you."
"But you're Darth Vader," he whined.
Anakin looked around at all the children. "I understand now. You think I'm Darth Vader, don't you? You're afraid I'm going to do something horrible to you if you don't obey me."
Everyone but Rachel nodded.
Austin could sympathize. Vader had been an intimidating figure -- and still was. To a young child, he would appear as scary as Jason from "Friday the 13th" would to an adult. They wouldn't understand that he was Anakin Skywalker now. He waited, wondering how Anakin was going to handle this.
Anakin sat down, crossing his legs so his pose was identical to the children's. Now that he no longer towered over them, they all seemed to relax a little.
"I was once Darth Vader," he acknowledged. "But I am not Vader anymore. I am Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi Knight. There is no reason to be afraid of me. If there were, your master wouldn't have left you in my care."
"Why do we have two Master Skywalkers?" asked Ra-Sheen.
"Because Master Luke Skywalker is my son," Anakin replied.
"Really?" "No way!" "I knew that!" "That's cool!" "Do you look like him?"
Austin winked at Anakin. The Jedi nodded back before turning back to the datapad.
"Jess Fey'la?"
"Here," the Bothan girl replied.
"Isabel Thayer?"
"Here!" shouted the human girl.
"Shem Tio?"
"Here," crooned the Kaminoan boy.
"Luno Seth?"
"Here," answered the Zabrak boy.
"Well then," Anakin went on, setting the clipboard aside, "Master Luke informs me that you've all been working on exploring the living Force. Let us continue that line of study. Are you all ready?"
There was a chorus of answers, mostly affirmative.
"Relax," Anakin told them, his voice taking on a dreamy tone. "Feel the Force around you. In yourself. In the person next to you. In all that surrounds you. Every rock, every tree, every building, every animal and person, all intertwined in the vastness of the living Force."
"I don't feel anything!" whined Isabel.
"It may help to think about a particular person or object first," Anakin suggested. "Find the core of the Force within that, then extend your senses further."
Austin felt like an outsider as he watched the children sink into meditative trances, guided by their substitute teacher. If he hadn't known otherwise, he would have simply assumed it was nap time and the teacher was making the kids sleep sitting up. How would he have known? He was so Force-blind he wouldn't have recognized a premonition in the Force if it bit him in the rear. How did this mysterious energy work anyway?
"Hey, I found Mrs. Albany's cat," whispered Jason, joining Anakin at the doorway holding the disheveled animal. "He was in the dishwasher. Lucky thing it wasn't turned on." He took a glance at the kids. "Look at that; a room full of little Buddhas."
"Show some respect," Austin advised. "They don't complain that you look weird doing something."
Jason looked about ready to fire off a retort, then thought better of it. "So when are you and Lib going on your honeymoon?" he asked instead.
"Last evening of Stellar-Con," Austin replied. "We'll be taking a cruise in the Florida Keys."
"Wow, pricey. Did you take out a mortgage for this or what?"
"Actually, Liberty's parents are footing the bill. It's a wedding present."
"Sweet! Wish my folks were that generous. What'll Trapper do while you're gone?"
"He'll go back to Chicago for the two weeks we're gone, then come back for the rest of the summer."
Jason sighed. "How convenient. Your honeymoon in Florida, Han and Leia's honeymoon on Mon Calamari, Luke's jaunt to... wherever, and Liz and Boba's trip to Corusant to pick up the kid all coincide. Is the Elite falling apart or what?"
Austin laughed. "Of course not. We just all have lives outside the Elite. Except Zack, of course, but he wouldn't be Zack if he weren't a full-blown stereotypical geek."
"Twenty-nine, lives with his mom, no girlfriend, no job, waaaayyy late going through puberty, thinks its a mortal sin to open the package on anything that has Star Was slapped on the label... yup, Zack all the way."
"But seriously, this club's held for six years. I think it's here to stay."
Jason watched the children a moment. "What'd you think of Smellar-Con's opening today?"
"Not much different than usual. Mr. Cage was forty-five minutes late, a guy ran through the courtyard wearing nothing but Spock ears, the speech put everyone to sleep, the Sons of the Sith got in a slugfest with the NYC Rebel Alliance chapter... all we've come to expect from our lovely Stellar-Con."
"Nova-Con'll be better," Jason noted.
"Dad, are they done yet?" demanded Trapper.
"Not yet," Austin replied. "And don't yell or you'll disturb them."
"Sorry. But I was hoping they'd be able to play soon. I'm tired of playing by myself."
"After their lesson they'll be put to bed. Speaking of which, it's time we went home and threw you in bed too."
"Aw, man!"
The lobby of the Corusant office of the Galactic Adoption Agency was teeming with children -- children being introduced to their new parents, children sitting beside their social workers and kicking their feet anxiously, children playing with toys in the corners of the room or racing about making starship noises. Eager new parents lined up at the window to fill out the remaining paperwork for claiming their child. Others stood, waiting to be paired with a youngster.
Fett shifted restlessly from foot to foot. Fatherhood was uncharted territory for him, and he felt woefully unprepared for the experience. Had his own father expressed similar anxieties while placing his clone order?
"Honey," Liz whispered, "you're rocking like a hyperactive astromech."
"I'm just nervous," he replied. "But don't tell anyone I said that."
"The galaxy's best bounty hunter, nervous?" Liz feigned shock. "Don't worry; so am I. I never thought I'd be doing this."
A little Chiss boy ran over and picked up the brightly colored ball that had rolled to Fett's feet. When he looked up at the hunter, his red eyes went wide and an expression of awe came over his deep blue features.
"Wow, Boba Fett!" he gushed.
Fett nodded.
"You're so cool! When I grow up I'm going to be a bounty hunter just like you!"
"I'll keep an eye out for you, little one."
"'Bye!" He ran off.
Liz chuckled. "Wouldn't it be neat if he were ours?"
"It would," Fett acknowledged. "But it is not to be." He pointed as a human social worker coaxed the boy over and introduced him to his new parents.
"Mr. and Mrs. Fett?"
They turned to see a blue-skinned Twi'leck social worker whose name tag read Saala approaching them. A child followed her. Was this to be theirs?
Fett hoped not. Stars, how he hoped not. It wasn't as if he was xenophobic. Far from it. In fact, to be xenophobic was quite dangerous. Humans who disliked aliens were apt to have their throats cut, especially on melting-pot worlds like Corusant.
But he hated Hutts. Most everyone hated Hutts. And the child slithering along behind the worker, leaving a sickly trail of greenish slime, was undeniably a Hutt.
Liz's hand gripped his, and he could see her working to suppress her revulsion. He, too, steeled himself. Hutt or no, this was an orphan, or at least a child whose parents couldn't provide for it. It needed a loving home, and if that loving home was to be theirs, so be it. After all, they had not specified a preferred species, so they had no right to complain.
"Well, he's not what we expected," Liz noted weakly.
"Oh no, I was just going to ask you to please step aside," Saala told them. "Mrs. Panna the Hutt is here to pick up her child."
They backed away, and a massive, fully-grown Hutt slid forward and extended her fat arms toward the child.
Fett sighed in relief. Then he reached out to steady Liz as she slipped on the Hutt's slime trail.
"Can we get a janitor droid down here?! shouted Saala. In a calmer tone she addressed the Fetts. "Now, about your baby. We've already chosen one for you. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," Liz replied. "Boy or girl?"
"It's a girl, and I wanted to talk to you about her. Her parents lived on Tatooine but were killed in a pirate attack two weeks ago. Her records were destroyed, so we have no information on her, not even a name or birthdate. We estimate her to be around three months old."
Fett and Liz exchanged glances. The pirates of Tatooine again? How much more carnage would be wrought before Luke and his company got to the bottom of this?
"I thought I'd caution you, because often babies who have gone through trauma are easily upset. And later in life, though they might not remember the incident, they might develop a little slower, be a little more clingy, or otherwise show signs of post-traumatic disorder. Now you can always say no if you want..."
"We would be glad to take her in," Fett told her.
"We'll love her no matter what she's been through," Liz added.
A Besalisk woman approached, carrying three babies and a fussy toddler in her eight arms. Saala took one baby and deposited her gently in Liz's arms.
"She's beautiful," Liz whispered.
/Indeed she is/ thought Fett. She was asleep, one tiny fist pressed to her mouth. Two white lekku, striped in blue and white and plump with baby fat, framed a scarlet-and- white face, and similarly striped horn-like growths topped her head. A Togruta child, Fett remembered, the same species as the late Jedi Master Shaak Ti.
Carefully, afraid he might bruise her smooth skin, he reached out with a finger and brushed her chubby cheek.
She coughed, and he drew back, but she only relaxed and went back to sleep. As if sensing his thoughts, Liz transferred the little one to his arms. He cradled her clumsily, trying to get used to the warm bundle in his arms, then held her and studied her features, counted her little fingers and toes.
A feather-light pressure registered, and he saw that she had closed her tiny hand around his finger.
Liz leaned toward him. "What should we name her?"
Fett thought for a moment. "You choose," he told her.
She stared at their baby a moment. "Naomi. After my aunt."
He nodded in agreement. "Naomi Fett, I'm your father. This gorgeous woman is your mother. And we're going to spoil you rotten."
"Now if you'll just complete some paperwork, you can take her home," Saala told them. Then she whirled as two Quarren children who'd been chasing each other around with toy lightsabers slid through the Hutt's trail and landed in a noisy heap. "Excuse me a moment."
TK-577 didn't really believe all that bantha poodoo about Master Luke Skywalker sending one of his apprentices to manage the Executor during Piett's absence. He'd never met Anakin's son or any of his students before, but this guy just seemed a little... off? Unbalanced? Weird? And though he carried a lightsaber, he didn't dress like a Jedi.
But with Piett missing, the Executor Garrison had little choice but to do as this Krad the Destroyer bloke ordered. Anyone with the surname Destroyer wasn't bound to be pleasant if you screwed up.
As the stormtrooper stood at attention on the bridge, awaiting new orders, he couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Krad. He seemed pretty lonely, always staring out the viewports brooding over something. Vader had done that a lot too, he remembered.
He didn't know what species Krad was, but he was quite visually striking. His limbs were muscular but slender, and his broad shoulders and chest tapered down to narrow hips and waist. His clawed hands were clenched behind his back, and his square-jawed, noseless face contemplated the starscape expressionlessly. Tentacular fleshy growths replaced hair on his scalp, and he possessed piercing gray eyes that contained no pupils or irises. His frame was encased in smooth, blood-red hide, and he wore black reptile-skin armor and an Earth-type garment known as a trench coat. He looked very Vaderish in those clothes, but 577 didn't think it would be wise to point that out.
"Soldier," he said at last, rolling the R slightly.
"Yes, sir?"
"The others inform me that you have had a good deal of contact with Darth Vader," he said, continuing to stare at the stars.
"That's true," 577 admitted. "But I think you mean Anakin Skywalker. He changed his name a year ago."
Krad turned slowly to regard him. He remembered what the officers on this scrapyard of a ship had said about the Jedi's eyes -- "remarkable," they'd called them. 577 thought "haunted" was a better adjective. It was as if those steel-gray eyes had seen a tragedy of tremendous scope, as if their owner bore a crushing weight in his heart. But there was a fire there too, a fury, a drive for retribution. 577 made a mental note to never piss this guy off.
"So he did." Krad took two long deliberate strides, bringing himself to stand directly in front of the trooper. 577 gulped. Skywalker had been tall, but Krad was gigantic, easily as tall as a Wookie.
"Your name, soldier."
"TK-577," he squeaked.
"Not your number. Your name."
"That's it, sir."
"No soldier working for me is going by a number," Krad hissed. "You will receive a name. Think of one."
577 scowled. What was wrong with his number? It was a perfectly good one, even if it was a bit more of a mouthful than most others. If Krad was going to force names on all the troops, he'd soon have a mutiny on his hands.
"I'll select one for you, since you can't decide." Krad scrutinized 577 carefully. "Where did you get those marks on your chestplate?"
He glanced down at the scratches in his armor. He was quite proud of those battle scars and had not wanted them repaired. They were badges of honor.
"Three years back Rebels jumped the Executor," he explained. "A few made it aboard and one brought his pet massif along for the fight. It knocked me over and started gnawing. I must have shot that Sith-spawned critter ten times before it keeled over, and I was still pulling pieces of its fangs out of me a week later."
"Very well," Krad replied, nodding. "Fangs it is."
"Is what?"
"Your name. And Fangs, I want you to prepare a written report containing all the information you have regarding Skywalker."
"But I have guard duty on the..."
"You're excused from it. Now go."
577 cursed under his breath as he stomped back to his quarters. Fangs! Of all the names in the galaxy, he got tagged Fangs! No way was he going to keep that ridiculous moniker after Piett returned.
"Yo 577!" 333 shouted, jogging to catch up with his comrade. "You look bluer than an Ortolan who got told he couldn't have seconds. Did you get a bum name too?"
"He called me Fangs," 577 snarled.
333 laughed. "Name fits the massif who mauled you better."
"Oh yeah? And I suppose you got a better tag?"
333 gestured grandly to his chest. "Introducing, from the planet Kamino, the one, the onnnnllyyyyyyyyyy -- Dodger!"
"At least yours is halfway decent. I'll bet mine's the dumbest on the ship."
"Don't count on it. You know 836 on North End? The one with the cybernetic leg? He's now Gadget. And the new stealth troopers? All six got weird names -- Mystic, Wizard, Padawan, Magic, Legend, and Force."
"Wow, winners. Guess I got off kinda light."
"Hey, guess what? 409 -- ah, I guess it's Blade now -- but he's got a copy of 'Weekend at Bernie's.' Wanna come watch it with us?"
"Can't. Destroyer-boy wants me to write a report on..."
"So write it while you watch! C'mon! We got all kinds of Earth junk food! Let's live it up while we don't have a battle to fight!"
577 shrugged. Krad hadn't given a date he wanted the report by, so what harm was there in watching a quick movie?