Disclaimer: Well folks, I guess as I have yet to make millions I still don't own Star Wars or Fett or any of the other things that are owned by Mr. George Lucas.

Fett got to his feet resignedly. He was certainly aware of how unhappy Syntas would be with his new job. He gritted his teeth, feeling the rage well up within him, but forced it down. There would be time for that later. He tossed a few credits on the bar and strode out of the cantina. The sentients near his path leaned away, careful not to get too close. Seeing him they realized this hunter's reputation was well deserved.

Swirling sand filled the streets, obscuring now even the buildings that lined the dusty road. Fett flipped through the different views, eliminating them all at last and switching to standard view. Even infrared was rendered useless by the hot winds and the sand they carried.

By the time he reached the docking bay he was covered in gritty dust. This of course meant that he would be spending a great deal of time cleaning his weapons, again. At times the life of a bounty hunter was a little less exciting and glorious than many sentients imagined.

Ignoring the swirling sand Fett slammed his fist into the door panel on the Slave 1. The hatch popped open reluctantly. Fett pulled it open the rest of the way, forcing it open against the wind. As he slipped through swung shut behind him, nearly catching him in it. Fett cursed under his breath brushing as much dust as possible from his armor, clothes and weapons.

As he reached up to pull off his helmet he caught sight of Syntas standing in the doorway of the hold. As it always did the sight of her made his breath catch in his throat. He slowly lowered his hands to his side, knowing this would not be easy.

"Hello Syn." He said carefully, irritated that it was him being this careful and on his own ship no less.

She smiled, "Hello Boba." She walked over, unconsciously avoiding the pile of dust and sand he had created, reached up and pulled off his helmet, kissing him gently.

Fett who had been about to speak stopped himself putting his arms around her and returned the sentiment. Of course this meant Syntas' dark tunic was then covered in the gray dust still adhered to his sleeves and chest plate.


Realizing this she pulled away, brushing at her clothes in a futile gesture. Fett smiled, even laughing quietly. He sighed, much of the tension bleeding out of him and went back to pulling off his armor.

Syntas smiled back, taking his blasters from them and putting them in the storage compartment, "What did you want to tell me?"

Fett glanced at her, his face unreadable, "I took a job."

Syntas shifted uneasily, taking from him another piece of his armaments. It was not hard to follow where this was going. It was not often Boba was uneasy. She simply continued with her task waiting for him to continue.

"It's a death warrant."

"Aren't they usually worth more alive?"

"Not this time. Vader wants this one dead."

"Vader." The bitterness was evident in her voice flashed through the quiet ship. Memories poured over her, the Force. A man in black armor. Fett sprawled on the ground, blood soaking into the forest floor. And the bright ocean of Force flaming all around her, through her and into the Record, burning her, scorching her mind and hands and soul.

"Vader." He replied taking her hands in his, hesitantly reaching up to brush her hair from her eyes. "We need this job."

She looked away, a solitary tear tracing its way through the dust on her cheek. "Do we?"

Fett kept a careful grip on his anger, remembering the marketplace and the rage that had come so easily, "We do. It isn't easy to get good jobs and the Slave 1 needs repairs again." He turned her face back towards him, "We need this."

Syntas sighed, squeezing his hands and nodded, "Who is the merchandise?"

"Just merchandise."

His tone caught her; she looked into his eyes seeing the conflict within him as she always did when this came up.

"A Jedi?" Her voice was quiet.

Fett nodded, turning to the storage bin behind him. He pulled his shirt over his head, reaching for a clean shirt and tossing the dusty one into the receptacle. The scars that stood out on the pale skin of his back gave Syntas pause. For no one knew better than she how deep those scars went.

"Which Jedi?" She came up, this time turning his face to hers. The stone resolve that froze his features saddened her, but she smiled anyway, "And do we have any leads on his or her trail?"

Fett looked up, surprised, but accepted this peace offering. Syntas touched him and then stepped away so he could finish what he was doing.

"Agen Kolar, a Zabrak Jedi Knight."

"I knew Agen once," Syntas said without facing Fett, "A very long time ago. A lifetime ago."

Something in her tone concerned Fett, "Will you come or will you be staying here?"

Syntas whirled around to face him. Her hands clenched tightly on the cloth she held, "I will be coming." The strain of it though was evident on her face. Fett simply remained still, unsure what to do.

Neither moved for a moment, frozen by circumstances beyond their control in an unforgiving galaxy. Finally Syntas stepped forward, resting her hand on his arm for a moment before climbing from the hold.

Fett let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and wiped some more of the invasive dust from his arms. He reached up to put the last of his carefully cleaned armor into the storage locker, but once again, the door jammed. He slammed it with his fist, making it open. Fett glared at it, slamming it closed.

Syntas sat in the tiny chair bolted to the wall of the Slave 1, hugging her knees to her chest. She had known Agen; the Jedi Knight had lost his Padawan on the battlefields of Geonosis, as a kind if somewhat sad man. He had taught her some of her earliest lessons in the Force. She had later heard that the Masters had hoped working with children would help heal his grief. But Agen had remained single minded and driven, leading battle after battle. And Agen Kolar was famed among the Jedi for his skill with a lightsaber.

She rested her head on her arms, closing her eyes, willing it all away. She quickly sank into sleep, drained by her argument with Fett. But her sleep was anything but quiet. Images flashed through her mind, beyond her control or understanding. There was a child, an ancient temple, an old man, a figure filled with rage and burned beyond recognition, a cage and many more. Finally the swirling images resolved into a single picture. A man in battered armor, his hand pressed to his side to stem the flow of blood trained an unwavering blaster on another battered figure this one in tattered brown robes who smiled grimly, raising his lightsaber for a final swing.

Syntas cried out, opening her eyes to see Fett standing over her, concern evident on his face. He caught her as she nearly fell.

"What's wrong?" He asked softly, holding her gently.

"I don't know." Her shaking slowly stopped, "It was probably nothing, a dream."

Fett let her go reluctantly, and stood, going back to the controls of the Slave 1, preparing them for departure. Syntas watched him, frightened by what could be coming, and by the strangely familiar feeling the dream had given her. She gripped the chairs armrests tightly, terrified without knowing exactly why.

Author's Note:

I'm back! Thanks for the reviews everyone, they are as always the reason for writing. And since it's summer and debate/forensics is finally done I'll be updating on a more regular basis hopefully. Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed it, and I'll be back in about a week with more! Oh and sorry about the formating, I've been having trouble when I upload my chapters.