We Are All Made of Stars
Part I
" I have always been faithful to you. If faithful means the experience against which everything else has been measured." - Anita Shreve
It takes me a moment before I can work up the nerve to step back into the cave that had once been my home – our home. Though it is daytime, the inside is dark and uninviting. None of us have returned for years, and our old belongings are overturned, dusty and rusted. I step into the darkness, wrap my arms around myself against the cold, and shut my eyes.
I sit on our old bed, near the cave's entrance, and look out at the rocky landscape of what has been the closest I've had to a home planet in my lifetime. All the events of our life seem to have gravitated back to this place: his father's death, the birth of our son, and the ultimate dissolution of our makeshift family at the hands of his obsessive need for revenge.
On the eve of what is rumored to the be decisive battle for the Rebellion, I'm not sure what has motivated me to return this place. My hands have not stopped trembling since my son wrote to me, telling me that he will be taking part in this last-ditch strike against the Empire. I wish that it could somehow be me flying against them instead of him, but I was never as brave as he is, and never so moved by as cause as he has been for the Rebellion.
Somehow it seems right to be on Geonosis on this fateful day, though I feel restless as I gaze around the cave and let the memories flood back to me. What am I doing here? I wonder, sitting like an aimless fool while my son could be dying? In the midst of an emotional surge I stand, though I'm not quite sure where I feel that I should be going instead. The Rebellion's plans are so secret that I had to read through code in my son's letter just to determine that an important battle for freedom would be taking place in the next days – there was no indication of where it would happen.
When I turn toward the mouth of the cave, something on the horizon catches my eye. A man, walking toward the cave with a large bundle in his arms. I drop back into the darkness, and watch him approach, and as he does I see that his bundle is in fact another man, draped lifeless across his arms, his head hanging back, his armor seared and ruined.
After everything: after all of the lies, hurt and betrayal, after all of the things said that can never be taken back, it still drops me to my knees in sorrow when I see who the stranger is carrying. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach and my hands cover my face when I realize what has drawn me back to this planet where his father is buried under the sand.
I met Boba Fett when we were both orphans on Corinth, the meadowy moon of Geonosis. I had been without a place in the world since birth, but he was brought in anew to our world of unwanted offspring at age ten, and didn't adjust easily to the orphanage's rules. He told boastful tales about his father, a warrior of some sort, who's powerful government connections would have him rescued from anonymity at any moment. These forces never came.
Our orphanage was gray but not unfriendly - it was filled to the brim with children of every species, many whose parents, like Boba's father, had been entangled in and betrayed by the powers collecting for the coming war. It was a sad, frightened time for everyone, and we were never truly children as long as we lived inside the orphanage's lonely walls.
I was sitting at Boba's lunch table in the dining hall the day I first truly met him. As a girl, I typically didn't associate with the boys in the home, out of both fear of the unknown and the prejudice of youth. But he was such a sad and curious figure, I couldn't resist approaching him, boy or no. He was sitting alone, as was usual - he tended to drive the other boys away with his pride.
" Hello," I said, setting my tray down and cautiously sitting beside him. He gave me a sideways glance and returned to the business of poking boredly at his lunch.
" This food is awful," he muttered, " How can you eat this?"
I shrugged, determined not to be too easily put off by his attitude. " I guess I'm used to it," I said, shoveling some of the soggy vegetables into my mouth, " I've lived at the orphanage since I was born." Boba looked at me and frowned.
" Why?" he asked, " What happened to your parents?"
" My mother came to the orphanage because she was sick and pregnant with me," I explained, surprised that I could tell him this so easily, " She didn't have any money to go to a hospital, but the people here took care of her until she gave birth to me and died."
He waited for a moment, feigning disinterest, and then: " Your father, though? Where was he?"
" I don't know," I said, " She didn't say anything about my father. All I know is what the people here know."
" Hmph," he muttered with a mean grin, " So your father might be a wookie? Or an ewok?" He laughed.
" I doubt it," I said, maintaining my cool, " I'd be a lot hairier if that were true." Boba fought away the beginnings of a smile.
We ate in silence for awhile, and then he offered peace.
" Well for what its worth," he muttered in spite of himself, " I haven't got a mother."
" Why not?" I asked. " What happened to her?" Only orphans are so unashamed with these questions.
" I don't know," he admitted. " My father never told me. But I think - I think I might be a clone."
" Really?" I said, suddenly interested. The new heroes of the Republic were the clones: the majestic clone army, who would save the Republic from the federations and the dark lords! " What's it like to be a clone, then?" I asked, poking his arm. He felt human enough. Boba jerked his arm away, annoyed.
" It doesn't feel like anything," he snapped. " Clones are just like normal people. Only - they were made differently."
I grinned wickedly - " I bet you don't even know how normal people are made," I challenged. He glowered at me.
" Of course I do," he said, but he wouldn't meet my eyes.
" How then?" I asked, smirking.
" Well there's a man and a woman and they -" he floundered, pursing his lips. " I'm not sure about the rest," he muttered, embarrassed.
And so this was how I came to explain the birds and the bees to Boba Fett, who would later become one of the galaxy's most infamous Casanova bad boys. At the end of my explanation he actually looked rather perturbed by the idea.
" I think," he said, pushing his lunch tray away, " I prefer cloning."
Boba and I grew up as good friends - and because of our situation we were rather like family by the time we were teens. We may have gone on simply like that if it weren't for the fact that - well - we were teenagers.
" What will you do when you're eighteen?" he asked me one day when we were on dish duty together. We had been smoking cigarillos for the past couple of years despite strict orphanage restrictions, and it never failed to land us with extra chores. " When you leave the orphanage, I mean?"
" I don't know," I said, " I thought about becoming a pilot."
" Like a smuggler?" he joked, and I rolled my eyes.
" No," I said, " I don't know. Maybe I'll join the Army of the Republic. Or do they need human pilots, with all of those efficient clones they've got?" I teased.
" How many times do I have to tell you?" Boba said, tossing me a dish and pretending to be angry, " Clones are humans, too!" I giggled. I don't think I ever really believed Boba was a clone. After all, clones were fashionable then, when they were still on the people's side, saving us from evil. I guess I always figured he was just a silly little boy dreaming of being something more. Heroes or not, clones were still something alien to me, creatures that were more akin to droids than to the very human boy I had grown up with.
" What about you?" I asked, almost afraid to hear his response. Boba had always been on the wild side - he was always mouthing off to our teachers, often getting in petty fist fights with the other boys. Nothing major, but enough to make me worry about the choices he was capable of making for himself.
He was quiet for a moment after I asked, concentrating with strange intent on a dish he was drying. He laid it carefully on the stack on the counter and looked at me with eyes that were suddenly solemn.
" I never told you how my father died," he said, something I was quite aware of. I had never dared ask - Boba seemed to have such fond regard for his father, I didn't want to break open a dam by asking what had happened to him. I simply nodded.
" He was murdered," he told me, looking at his hands, which gripped the counter with sudden intensity, " By a Jedi." My breath caught when he finished his sentence. The Jedi were the noblest of the galaxy's peace-keepers - if they had cause to murder Boba's father, then he must have been up to something horrible.
" Why?" I asked timidly, " Why would a Jedi murder him?"
" The Jedi are not the saints that everyone believes they are," Boba said quickly, anger rising in his voice, " My father was hired to protect a diplomat - a former Jedi himself - when they launched an attack on his convoy. Whatever political junk this guy was mixed up in, my father was only performing a security job. He had nothing to do with whatever plot this diplomat was involved in - but they killed him anyway, and brutally." His voice changed a bit and he stopped to clear his throat, his gaze shifting away again. " It was only a few months before I first came to the orphanage. They murdered him right in front of my eyes."
" Oh, Boba," I said, dropping the dish I'd been holding into the sink. I dried my hands on my skirt and put my arms around him - I couldn't imagine how painful it must have been for a ten year old to see his father killed before his eyes. I had no idea that Jedi could behave this way - the order fell forever in my eyes. Foolishly, then and in the future, I did not take into account the fact that what a little boy saw that day and the truth of what had taken place were probably two very different things. But Boba was my best friend, and his sad eyes as he told me what happened had cracked my heart into pieces. As I held him to me those cracks started filling with another feeling entirely . . .
" So," Boba muttered into my shoulder, regaining his composure, " When I leave the orphanage I must find this Jedi, and take revenge for my father."
" Boba, no!" I said, raising my face to look at him, to try and possibly convey how insane I thought this idea was. " You can't face this Jedi - he'll kill you, too!"
He shook his head, pulling away slightly, " I'm not as weak as you think I am, Calli."
" Its not that I think you're weak," I explained, squeezing his shoulders, which had grown to bulge with muscles after years of being punished with handiwork around the orphanage. " Its just that the Jedi fight with a technique that lay people cannot match. You have to be instructed in their school to ever hope to face them in battle!"
" That's not true," Boba insisted, " When my father died, just afterward, hundreds of Jedi were nearly defeated by a mere droid army. The only reason this man and the others were spared is that the clones - the army that my father contributed to so greatly - saved them. If some mindless droids with blasters can nearly defeat an army of Jedi, then I'm sure I've got a chance to avenge my father."
" But what happens if you do succeed, Boba?" I asked, " You'll be found by his comrades, or the Republic - they'll imprison you for life, or execute you!"
" My father faced death unafraid," Boba said, stubborn to the last, " And so will I, if I have to. And as far as prison goes - I've been in prison for the last seven years, haven't I? Never free to do what I want, when I want."
" Boba," I said quietly, stepping away from him, " Has this felt like prison to you?" I asked with a sad chuckle.
" Oh, don't be offended, Calli," he said with a sigh, walking to me, " You've made it much more tolerable, you know that."
" To tell you the truth," I said, " I don't think I'll be ready to leave when the time comes."
Boba touched my shoulder. " Don't say that," he said, " You could be a great pilot. You could fight for the Republic and be showered with honors." I half-turned to face him.
" But what if I do join the Republic's Army?" I said with growing distress,
" And someday I have to chase down the ship of criminal Boba Fett who's killed a Jedi? What then, Boba?"
" That's unlikely, Calli," he said with a scoff, turning me to face him, " And anyway," he said, smiling down at his feet, " You'd let me go, wouldn't you?"
He looked up at me, and the feeling that I'd gotten earlier when I embraced him rose again in my stomach, climbing higher to my heart. Boba had grown into a handsome young man - not so unlike the button-nosed boy he'd been, with curly dark hair that fell to his ears, coffee-colored skin that had remained smooth and clear even through adolescence - and of course those intense brown eyes, which were begging me then for an answer, for his best friend to absolve him.
" Of course I would let you go," I answered, and a sad feeling of certainty washed over me when his face broke into a relieved smile. " Even if it meant losing everything," I promised.
I will never forget this conversation, there in the kitchen of the orphanage. It was both the moment I knew I was in love with him, and the moment I realized he would leave me.
For the next couple of weeks, I couldn't sleep at all. During the day, Boba, my friends in class, my teachers and my headmistress would all ask what was wrong with me. I was tired all the time, and Boba in particular noticed that I was acting more uneasy and nervous. I wasn't simply mulling over my new feelings for him - I was thinking about what he said, and with such seriousness, about avenging his father. I was terrified that when we turned eighteen and left the orphanage, I would lose him forever.
I mostly kept my feelings to myself, until one day when I noticed him sparring with two of the older boys during free period. I rushed over, tired of the perennial sight of him fighting.
" Boba!" I shouted, " Cut it out! Headmaster Linc will see you!" He held up a hand and the boys backed off.
" Calm down, Calli," he said, jogging over to me, " We're just practicing some moves, nothing serious."
" Practicing some moves?" I said, disbelieving. " For what?"
" For combat," he said, frowning and making his face serious. "Remember what I told you the other day, when we were washing dishes?"
I sighed, " Of course I do," I said. " But, Boba -"
" Well I'm serious about this, Calli!" he said, " I have to start working on my skills now if I have any hope of facing this Jedi."
" Don't say it so loud," I muttered, " You didn't tell those boys about the 'master plan', did you?"
" Of course not," he said, his brow furrowing, " You're making fun of me, aren't you? You don't think I'll really go through with this." He shook his head.
" I had hoped not!" I said, my heart sinking.
" You know Calli," he said, growing angry, " That just proves that for all the years we've been friends, you really don't know anything about me at all."
I tried to protest, but he stormed off after that. As much as I hated to admit it, I was beginning to think he was right. Boba was changing quickly, then - hardening himself for the task he was determined to accomplish. It was just my luck that I had begun falling in love with him the moment he decided to become a rock-hard deliverer of vengeance.
But I like to think, as bad as things would eventually get, because of me and all that happened afterward, Boba would never be entirely made of stone. I would later meet a woman who would tell me that the infamous Boba Fett had set her free when he learned that she was pregnant, despite her bounty and his reputation.
He always had a weakness for the ladies.
And, not so shockingly given his looks and demeanor, they'd always had a weakness for him. Out of all of the planets and star systems I've visited in my lifetime, and especially during the fight against the Empire, there was never a place where I was unable to find some woman who could brag about a night with the famous bounty hunter that she'd never forget. While most of this was just boasting, it spoke of his reputation - women wanted him, because he was dangerous and mysterious. It was so prevalent throughout his lifetime, that despite everything I felt for him, I couldn't be jealous - the phenomenon was so huge, his dealings with other women seemed like the stuff of myth.
In our last year of school, I wasn't the only girl at the orphanage who had begun to notice Boba's evolution from boy to man. He became the subject of notes passed in class, of giggling pow-wows late at night in the girl's dormitory. My own popularity increased as I was automatically associated with Boba - "that girl he hung around with." No one ever mistook me for his girlfriend - not because I was particularly unattractive - I was growing into my looks as well, my straw-like blonde hair became smoother, my freckled cheeks milkier - but because I seemed too mild for the reckless Boba. This childish observation was actually an absolute truth - it was the reason Boba and I never became partners in crime; it was the reason I had to give him up to the wind.
This was before I'd discovered the phenomenal effect my friend had on women, and before I'd come to terms with it - I was not happy about the new attention he was getting from the opposite sex. Boba himself was rarely distracted by it - he had his mind on other things, then.
For awhile we avoided each other - he was upset that I wouldn't accept what he thought was the obvious path for his life: revenge. I was trying to save myself the pain of becoming too attached to him before he ran off to the four corners of the universe in search of his Jedi nemesis. But it was already much too late for that. Staying away from him only made me long for him more - I'd see him talking to a girl in the commons and burn with jealousy at her mere proximity to him.
One night I had an unsettling dream about him - he was a little boy again, and he was standing on a platform in the pouring rain. I started to walk toward him, when from out of nowhere a faceless Jedi landed between us and drew his lightsaber. Its deadly hum sent chills down my spine as he prepared to strike at my Boba with it.
" Boba, lookout!" I screamed in panic, but he couldn't hear me. Just as the Jedi lowered the blade in a flash, my eyes snapped open and he was sitting before me - the nearly adult Boba of the present.
" Boba!" I cried, and without thinking of our argument and ongoing standoff, I reached for him and grabbed him up in my arms, squeezing his shoulders tightly. My heart was pounding ferociously - the dream still felt real, and I wondered deliriously if Boba was an apparition in my arms. When he returned my embrace, I knew he was real.
" Calli," he whispered, close to my ear. " Not so loud, okay?"
" But," I said in a hushed voice, breathing him in, unwilling to let go, " I had a nightmare about you."
" Oh no," he said, laughing under his breath, " What did I do?"
" It wasn't anything you did," I whispered as he loosened his grip on me and sat back, " But never mind that - what are you doing in here? Headmistress will have your head."
His face turned serious. " I came to make up with you," he told me, " Our first fight in seven years of friendship." He smiled, " Well," he said, " I'm tired of it now. You?"
" Yes," I said, " But I stand by what I said - I wish you would let what happened go. Your father wouldn't want you to throw your life away for his memory."
He smirked, that wicked grin that made me - and, yes, probably every other damsel in the known universe - shudder. " You didn't know my father," he said, " And so, go on wishing. There's something I want to show you."
He held my hand as we crept out of the dormitory, past the headmistress's sleeping quarters and all her creaking boards. I felt perfectly safe with Boba's hand in mine - even if it was more a gesture of guidance through the dark than of affection. We made it to the main hall and began running toward the front doors, our bare feet padding soundlessly on the wooden floors. Boba was a pro at deactivating the security system - we pushed open the heavy front doors without tripping the alarms.
When we were free of the quiet, sleeping orphanage we whooped and hollered, running down the dark, rolling hills under the stars. Looking back, even now, I swear it felt like flying.
" Where are we going?" I shouted over the night wind across the prairie, laughing.
" There's a place up ahead," Boba called back to me. " I found it the other night when I was wandering around."
Boba wandering the hills at night alone - it didn't surprise me at all. He was already becoming a loner in those days; he even went on adventures without his trusty sidekick. We made our way up a steep, crested hill in the middle of the plains - it was far away from the orphanage, and, looking back at our makeshift home, I wondered how we'd run such a distance in what seemed like a very short time.
At the top of the hill, while we were catching our breath, Boba pointed at the stars. I followed his gaze, and we both stared up at them. I couldn't pay attention to them for long - they were just stars, gas giants. I looked back at Boba. His gaze was transfixed on the sky, his expression almost somber.
" Why did you bring me here?" I asked, and he looked back at me.
" I thought it was a nice view," he said, ever untouched, turning his face back to the heavens.
" Well, thank you," I said, my breathing returning to nearly normal, " It is." I was staring at his feet.
" Calli," he said, " Did I ever tell you about the planet I grew up on?"
" Some things," I said, " You told me it was always raining, and that they mass-produced the Republic's clone army there. Sounds . . . like a sad place for a little boy."
He shook his head. " It wasn't a sad place at all. My father and I were happy there - we were treated like kings by the Kaminoans."
" The who?"
" The race of people who were in charge of the cloning on Kamino," he explained, " They were - these very beautiful, graceful aliens. Very thin with big, iridescent eyes." He looked again at the sky. " They were a very soft-spoken, neutral race. Everything in our compound was kept meticulously clean - it was a peaceful place," he told me, his voice sad, nostalgic. " Like an opposite reaction to the chaotic atmosphere on the planet, everything inside the compounds was quiet and orderly. There were never any surprises - before the Jedi came."
" I thought you said the Jedi that killed your father ambushed him while he was on duty?" I said, confused.
" He did, but another arrived on Kamino before this," Boba explained.
" He started poking around in our compound, our living quarters. As we were leaving for Geonosis - the planet where the diplomat who had hired my father was staying - this Jedi drew his lightsaber and attacked our ship without warning. My father nearly died, but we managed to escape."
" I don't understand," I said, shaking my head, " Why a Jedi would do something like that."
" People need to get it through their heads," Boba said, defensive, " That the Jedi as an objective keeper of the peace is a myth. They have their own political agenda, and just like the bounty hunters they think they are so above, they'll stop at nothing to achieve it." It took a moment for what he said to click.
" Your father was a bounty hunter?" I said, perhaps revealing too much about what I thought of bounty hunters in my tone. Boba narrowed his eyes.
" His job had its brutal moments, but he was no worse than the Jedi you so admire," he spat, and I grabbed his arm as he began to turn away from me.
" Boba!" I said, yanking him back to face me, " Stop putting words in my mouth! I'm just a penniless orphan who's never been off the grounds of this property - I'll take your experience outside of this place for what its worth, but I have my own uneducated prejudices, I'll admit. I'm still not the kind of person who decides someone's worth based on their - trade. Don't get so offended!"
He sighed. " I'm just afraid of letting him down," he said, his eyes skyward again, " My father was always there for me, and he trusted me with everything - flying the ship, going along on all of his missions - he was a great man who simply got mixed up in the wrong fight, and I don't want him to be remembered as a villain."
I nodded and touched Boba's back, not protesting for his sake, though inwardly I doubted that a bounty hunter who had managed to get two Jedis after him and who took his young son along on missions to off his marks was a 'great man'. But there was no touching Boba's father on his pedestal, high as Corusaunt's tallest building and strong as one hundred charging Banthas.
We sat together on the grass for awhile before he spoke again. Leaning against the weight of each other's backs as we had done so many times while working on our lessons in the courtyard. When Boba spoke I could feel the low tremble of his voice against my back.
" Anyway, the place I grew up," he said, his tone softer, " The Kaminoans, they had a religion based on the stars. Dad always sort of scoffed at it - he wasn't the kind of guy who took up with religion - but I was young and it was kind of dear to me. The sky on Kamino was always cloudy, we never saw the stars. But when a Kaminoan was rewarded with a trip to space, it was like a holy pilgrimage. They saw the stars so rarely, they were like gods to them. They thought that all living things were made of stars, and that when they died their soul would take its place back in the cosmos." He turned as best he could against my back to look me.
" I asked my babysitter Taun We one day, when I was a bit older and understood what was going on, if I was my father's child, or just another clone," he continued, "First, she told me that I was special, clone or not, and that made me believe that my suspicions about my creation were probably true. But then she looked at me, and smiled, and told me, 'Boba, it doesn't matter. We all came from the same place - clones, humans, Kaminoans. We are all made of stars'." He smiled to himself.
I leaned my head back onto his shoulder, my face so close to his that I could feel his warm breath. It was kind of frightening, Boba's mouth so close to mine. The same frightening feeling that other women would worship him for - to them it would be like sweet poison. For me it was the simple fear that I might realize my feelings for a man I could never really have.
" We are all made of stars," he said again, his lips casually brushing my ear.
" I believed her."
" And now?" I asked, not willing to say much, for fear of a shake in my voice.
" I don't know," he admitted, turning again, his curls tickling the side of my face as he moved, " Sometimes I think my father was right, that life is just day-to-day, that there is no greater meaning or eternal resting place."
" Boba, I'm sleepy," I said, not wanting to get into another debate about his father's brilliant life philosophies.
" Do you want to go back?" he asked, and I detected what I was flattered to interpret as a hint of hurt in his voice.
" I don't know," I said, sitting up and turning toward him. He gave me his sad eyes for a moment before returning to the usual detached stare. I wanted to help him; I didn't know how I could without destroying myself.
" Calli," he said, placing a hand on my knee, " No more nightmares, okay?"
" I'll always worry about you," I told him.
" Well, don't," he said, with that smile again, " It cramps my style." He poked at me jokingly and I moaned, pretending to me more tired than I was. We walked back to the orphanage, left the silent, shimmering world outside and crept back through the front doors, where Boba reactivated the security system before we snuck back up to our dorms.
" Hey," he said, as we were parting between the boys' and girls' quarters. "I'm sorry I made you miss your beauty sleep." I half-grinned, and before I knew what I was doing, threw my arms around him. He laughed with surprise and hugged my waist, lifting me up a bit off the ground.
" What's this?" he asked as I held onto him like a desperate lunatic. At this point I was quite tired from the walk back, and would regret my half-delirious actions in the morning.
" Don't ever leave me, Boba," I said, feeling a bit mad, but sincere nonetheless.
" Calli," he said scoldingly, " I won't."
" You will," I said, pulling back. " As soon as the dawn of your eighteenth birthday you'll leave me behind for your crusade."
He was quiet for a moment, watching me stare him down in the hall. He still had his arms on my waist.
" Even if I do," he said, " I'll come back to you, okay?" I rolled my eyes. " I mean it!" he contested, making his face that demanded to be taken seriously. " I'll always come back to you. You're all I've got, Calli, the only one who cares about me in the entire universe. You're my home."
He kissed my forehead, like an older brother might, and, stepping off into the darkness of the boy's dormitory, he disappeared.
" And what if you die?" I whispered into the pitch black hallway when he was gone. I imagined myself as some old crone, probably still at the orphanage, working as the librarian, and searching hopelessly each night for Boba's Kaminoan star. His soul replaced too soon into the heavens.
As it happened, this would not be the case - the librarian scenario, anyway. I turned eighteen two months before Boba and sent in an application to a faction of the Republic Flight Academy on Corasaunt. We were allowed to stay at the orphanage for six months after our eighteenth birthday - six months to find our place in the world before the big kiss-off. Boba was already counting the days until he was free.
A week before Boba's birthday, I got an official letter from the Republic. Just holding the weighty envelope made me tremble with fear - if it was a rejection, I had few other alternates - my next best chance was finding a job at a dive bar in the city's lower levels, something that didn't sound too appealing.
Boba was in the dining hall stacking chairs when I found him - he was working double duty because of some recent mischief.
" Hey, Boba!" I called, jogging over to him, " It came."
" Oh boy," he said, wiping his brow and putting on a smile. " You haven't opened it yet?" I shook my head.
" You open it," I said, handing him the envelope.
" Its heavy," he said, " That's good." He tore open the seal and pulled out the stack of official government papers, unfolding them to have a look at the letter on top of the pile. His face fell, and my heart was crushed.
" I didn't get in," I said in a sigh. He shook his head.
" You did," he corrected, " See." He handed me the bundle, and I grabbed it and read the first line - Congratulations, Callia Elbe Antillies . . .
" I got in!" I shrieked, looking up at Boba with a monstrous grin - a huge weight lifted from my shoulders - I had a place to go, a purpose! I would finally belong to something. Boba managed a slow smile - a delayed reaction to be sure.
" Yeah, well, I knew you'd get in," he said, turning back to his chair stacking.
" Boba!" I said, slightly annoyed at his reaction. " Do you know what this means for me? This is security, this is a paycheck - this is, this is what I wanted. Are you even listening?" I asked, feeling a bit hurt. The reason I'd come to find him was to have someone to console me if it was bad news, but also to have someone to celebrate with if the news was good.
" Calli," he said, not looking at me, " I'm really happy for you." His voice was completely flat - I scoffed.
" Real convincing, Boba."
He turned to face me, " I mean it," he said, " I hope you have a great life serving the Republic." He began stacking the chairs a bit more violently. I didn't know what to say - he'd been in such a great mood for the past month, happily anticipating his birthday - this was a sudden and disturbing change. I wondered if this had anything to do with his father - the Jedi were under the Republic's command during the brawl that his father had died in. But he'd never shown any real hatred for the Republic itself before.
He turned around suddenly and pushed past me. " I've got to go," he muttered as he walked off, " I've got class." As he stalked off I looked back down at my letter, and the news seemed suddenly very lonely - like the promise of a lifetime in a windowless bunker.
" Congratulations to me," I whispered, running my fingers over the word on the letter. Tears strung my eyes and I cursed myself for being such a baby - only Boba had the power to make me cry. I hugged the letter to my chest and rocked back and forth, thinking of my new freedom and the honor of being accepted. But no one cared - not even my best friend. Such is the life of an orphan, I thought, and at this choking sobs began hiccupping from my gut. I sank to my knees and cried on the floor of the empty dining hall, wishing for the first time in awhile for my missing mother and father.
I felt arms sliding around my shoulders, and for a moment I thought it might be my mother's spirit. Then I smelled that familiar mixture of cheap shampoo and burnt cedar, and knew it was Boba.
" Its okay," he whispered, squeezing me to him, " Its okay." He rested his chin on my shoulder, and I felt what I at first thought was a hysterical delusion - he was kissing my neck, just barely, cautiously, as if it might burn his lips.
" Boba?" I said, my tone questioning. My sobs stopped and gave way to complete shock.
" I don't want you to go," he said, holding me so tightly I could scarcely breathe. He didn't apologize for this demand, or even acknowledge that he was being selfish. He just told me what I'd suspected in only the most wishful parts of my mind: he didn't want me to go. We were both quiet for a long time - the afternoon sun blazed through the dining hall's enormous windows and made our young skin glow.
" If you ask me to," I said, " You know I'll choose you." He said nothing. I wanted so badly for him to tell me that he loved me - if he'd only have said those three words I could have left with him without a second thought.
He said nothing.
I gave everything up for him anyway. I could blame the effect he had on women - they tended to lose their minds around him, me included - or the strong bonds that had formed between us as we grew up together as orphans. But it was just that moment, kneeling with him on the floor in a spot of sun, a yellow square of window pane. A moment when I'd needed someone to hold me and he'd been there.
It was one of the only times he'd ever be there when I needed him. I knew this when I left the orphanage with him, when he used his inheritance money to buy us two tickets on a ship to Geonosis - I expected him to let me down, to leave me out of his life, to return to me only for selfish reasons. And still I went with him.
To Be Continued in Chapter Two
A/N: I need lots of feedback for this – I'm going to launch a comprehensive site for it in April, featuring original art and over two-hundred pages of story. I want it perfect before then, so please help me out – first of all, did you enjoy the story? Do you want to read more? Were there any issues or inconsistencies with canon? (And I do not consider ANYthing in the Extended Universe books and novels to be canon, so please refrain from referencing them in your critique.) Did anything about Boba here really rub you the wrong way as far as your own canonical interpretation of him goes? Is Calli a likeable heroine? She's a bit wimpy at the beginning of the story, because I want to show her evolution into a stronger person as she gets older and has experienced more – I don't like the Star Wars canon and fanon convention of the tough-as-nails at fourteen female lead – I find their unfaltering confidence and unflinching bravery hard to relate to. The males, meanwhile, are allowed to have fears and faults, and it makes them more interesting, complex characters, which I think is unfair.
That said, I look forward to some useful feedback, and hope you've all enjoyed the story! There is much more to come for those who are interested.