I became a regular at the Tavern - the mysterious figure listening in the corner with a hood always pulled over her face. Each night I collected any bits of the conversation that had to do with Boba - or Luna, my competition.
" Looks like Jabba is still playing favorites with the Fetts," I heard a resentful hunter mutter one night, " He hasn't called me for a job since Boba started working."
I had heard this Jabba's name mentioned in relation to Boba's several times already - apparently he was some sort of crime lord who had once relied heavily on Jango as a hired assassin.
Luna's name didn't come up as often as I feared - and hardly ever in association with Boba's. Mostly she only surfaced in the men's muttered comments about her looks. The women were similar with Boba.
" I saw him at Jabba's last week," a chubby purple Twi'lek girl bragged one night, " He took his helmet off and everything!"
" Oh, liar," a human girl with stringy blonde hair muttered, " He'd never take it off in public."
" Well it wasn't in public, if you know what I mean," the Twi'lek said, sticking her chin up. The other girls at the table exchanged a knowing look.
" Yeah?" a woman with white eyes and pale blue skin challenged, " What'd he look like, then?"
" Um," the Twi'lek said, raising her shoulders nervously, " Well, he had sandy brown hair, and these big, green eyes -"
" Nice try!" the blonde said, laughing. " Everyone knows Boba Fett has black hair and brown eyes, Chima you dummy!"
" Well it was dark, okay?" the Twi'lek girl said, embarrassed, leaving the table.
" Ha, like Boba'd go in for a girl like her," the blue woman said, and the other girls snickered. This was the way they were with each other - they were on the same side until one of them claimed to have been lucky enough to have spent a night with him, then she became the enemy. Much to my relief, the claims were often bogus like Chima's, but sometimes - sometimes their descriptions of him were too uncanny, their observations on his bedroom demeanor too dead-on.
The worst was a tiny girl who couldn't have been older than seventeen, pretty with long, fair-colored hair. She came into the Tavern one night alone, looking stunned and hungry. When Eulee turned her penniless pockets away from the counter, a sympathetic waitress snuck her a bowl of broth and a glass of water for free. When the girls started in on their usual dishing about Boba, the stranger turned around in her seat, staring at them.
" You want something, honey?" a girl I'd come to know as Tinka asked her. Tinka was the mistress of Dengar, one of the better-looking hunters, who only rarely showed up at the Tavern himself. She had dark hair that fell to her ears, and was generally more well-groomed than most of the hunter's girls.
" You were talking about Boba Fett?" the girl asked, her big eyes curious. Tinka shrugged.
" So what if we were?" she said, cattily.
" I knew him," the girl said, " We parted only weeks ago, on Bog 7."
" Bog 7?" Tinka said, looking to her friends with a raise of her thin eyebrow. Only last night they had been discussing Boba's most recent bounty collection - a scaly-faced creature who'd stolen from Jabba - on the moons of Bogden. Perhaps her story had some credence?
" Yes," the girl said, with a sigh, " My name is Peta. I had been travelling with him for some time, since he saved me from my father on Tatooine."
" Tatooine," said Ryina, a former slave of Jabba's that some bold and now-dead bounty hunter had freed. She thoughtfully twirled a strand of hair around her finger. " I saw him there at Jabba's a month or so ago," I heard her whisper to Tinka. Tinka shrugged - despite her affiliation with Dengar, she was one of Boba's biggest fans, and the most reluctant to believe another woman's story of conquest.
" So what?" she said to Ryina, " He's always there, it doesn't mean anything." She turned back to Peta. " Why would Boba Fett bother saving a kid like you?" she asked in a nasty tone.
" I don't know," the girl said, her eyes dreamy, not really focusing on anything in particular. " He was hanging around one of the restaurants in our small town - far from Mos Eisley, none of us could believe he'd show up there. All of my friends were daring me to talk to him, and so I did."
" And what did you talk about?" Tinka said with a snort, " Nail polish? Moisture farming?" The other girls laughed.
" Nothing really," Peta said, " I tried to flirt with him, but he wasn't really responding. To try and grab his attention I invited him back to my bed. He didn't say anything, so I left with my friends, embarrassed."
" Fascinating," Tinka said, feigning a yawn. " Believe it or not, you're probably not the first farm girl that got the cold shoulder from Boba Fett."
" But that's just it," Peta said, seemingly oblivious to Tinka's teasing, " He showed up at my window that night. It was like a dream. I couldn't believe he remembered me."
My stomach pinched into a nervous ball - it couldn't be true, Boba chasing after girls like her, appearing at their windows? He had never promised to be faithful to me, but even so . . .
I thought of his face pressed to mine in our bed, the day that he left. No matter what people say about me, he'd whispered, Remember me this way. Did he know? Did he know I'd someday hear people talking about him as if he were some rouge killer and loverboy?
" Seems unlikely," Tinka said, in her voice a bit of a loss of confidence. " But go on. I suppose he ravaged you wearing full armor? We've heard this before."
" No, nothing like that," Peta said, " He came in and sat on the bed, and he actually seemed nervous. I was being mean and teasing, because I couldn't believe the great Boba Fett would be so timid. I asked him to take off his helmet, and he did -"
" What did he look like, then?" Tinka, Rylina and one other girl all asked in unison, making Peta jump a bit in her seat.
" He had dark, curly hair," she said, making my eyes threaten to overflow - with every physical trait she described correctly my heart skipped another beat.
" Dark skin, but not very dark - pretty, like a color I'd never seen before. And brown eyes. I was surprised, I guess, how nice he looked. I thought he would be gruff, sort of dirty, and maybe a little bit older."
Tinka had nothing to say, now. She just sat back and listened, defeated.
" And then we - well," she said, not as crude about discussing sex as some of the other women were. She shut her eyes and raised her shoulders, smiling. " Like all the stories you hear in bars, he was incredible," she said, " He had to cover my mouth so we wouldn't wake my parents," she said, grinning, " And brace his hand against the wall so the bed wouldn't smack into it." She lowered her voice and leaned closer to the girls, who were now enthralled and didn't dare interrupt.
" And he makes this face when he's finishing," she whispered, " Like it feels so good he can't take it, almost like it hurts. Oh, its unbearably sexy."
" I've heard that," Tinka muttered, touching her cheek, which was flushed red. A tear slid down my own cheek, which remained pale - yes, that face, I knew it well. It seemed wrong that another woman could, too.
" Anyway," Peta said, sitting back as all of the women at the table let out their breath and returned their attention to her words rather than their fantasies.
" After we were done he started to get up to leave, and I asked him how he could even stand after such an - experience, and wasn't he tired? He seemed to consider this for a moment, and then told me yes, maybe he'd just lie still for a bit. So he did, and I fell asleep beside him. I suppose he nodded off, too, because he was still there when I woke to the sound of footsteps up the stairs."
We were all on the edge of our seats now, despite our jealousy.
" It was my father," Peta said, " And the last time he'd caught me with a boy he'd beaten me so badly I thought I'd never heal. He crashed through the door, drunk and probably mistaking my room for the bathroom, but when he saw Boba he turned to fetch his rifle."
Tinka laughed, " Obviously he didn't know who he was dealing with."
" Yes," Peta said, " It was easy enough for Boba to escape. He retrieved his helmet and was out the window before my father returned. It was me who was left to face him - he turned the butt of the rifle to me and struck me - I thought he would kill me. Boba must have heard my screams because he returned, grabbed up my father and twisted his arm until it broke. He made up some story that I was a good friend of his, and that if my father ever hit me again he would know about it and come back to finish him off. I'm sure my father knew he was lying - Boba started to leave and I begged him to take me away, at least far enough so that my father couldn't find me."
" And?" Tinka said, leaning forward. " He actually did?"
" He did," Peta said, nodding, " And I was as surprised as you. I had heard he was ruthless, that he cared not for anything but money - but you know, he hasn't even been working very long now, and I think these are mostly leftover sentiments about his father." She smiled. " Though I'm sure he'd be mortified if that got out."
Yes, I thought, he would. It made me sad that she knew him so well.
" It was the happiest night of my life," Peta said with a sigh, " I cheered all the way to his ship as we flew through the air; he was carrying me, blasting through the night on that jetpack. I think he must have regretted bringing me as soon as we took off," she said with a sad laugh.
" How long did he keep you around?" Tinka asked, scooting over and making a place for Peta at the girl's table. At my lonely table, I wondered if my own stories of nights spent with Boba would win me a place in their circle. But I knew I could never bear to flaunt so cheaply something that meant so much to me.
" We traveled together for almost a month," Peta said, " We were sleeping in an inn on Bog 7 when he decided it was time for us to separate. I think he was afraid he'd become too attached to me."
Tinka snorted, " Hon, he was probably just sick to death of dragging you around."
" Maybe," Peta said softly, " But it was - we had just made love, and fallen asleep together on the bed. And the light through the windows was so lovely and warm - I don't think I've ever been so comfortable in my life, just sleeping naked next to him. I think it may have terrified him, that he was making himself too vulnerable."
The other girls at the table continued to doubt this theory, but I knew it was true. Boba was steel, he was rock hard, he killed anyone who got in his way. But under all of that his heart was as soft and warm as that 'pretty' skin of his - maybe only Peta and I knew it, but it was still true.
The idea that Boba had shared his heart and not just his body with this girl made me miserable - but in Peta's time at the Tavern, she did bring me one moment of happiness, something that I would hold dear to me throughout all the impossibly lonely times ahead.
" You know," she said one night, drinking with her new friends, " That Boba Fett has a great love? Some girl he's known since he was a child."
I pulled back my hood a bit, floored at the very idea that Boba might have mentioned me to one of his companions.
" Probably Luna," Tinka muttered, dashing my hopes. She's right, I thought - I'm the one he left behind for this childhood love; he's probably cutting out hearts all over the galaxy for his morbid princess.
" I don't think so," Peta said, tilting her head slightly and remembering. " One night I asked him why he'd been so kind to me, and he told me I reminded him of someone that he'd hurt very badly. He said he felt guilty when he saw my face. I asked if this someone was a girl, and he didn't answer, but it was a very pregnant silence."
" So what did he do to this chick?" Chima, who had been allowed back into the circle, asked. " He have to kill her or something?"
" No, nothing like that," Peta said, " I asked him why he was with me and not this other girl who I so reminded him of, and he said he didn't know, couldn't explain it. I don't think he would have survived hurting Luna, and anyway, I look nothing like her. Its someone else, I'm telling you. Some dark secret."
I glanced behind me at Peta - we did look a bit similar - the same light hair, though hers was much longer, the same dark blue eyes, hers larger and more innocent looking. We had the same slight build, though mine was growing more sturdy since I'd taken to eating right and exercising.
" Now that I think about it," Peta said with a chuckle, " Any resemblance to this lost love was probably the only reason he gave me the time of day in the first place."
Then still happy to justify his actions, I smiled to myself, feeling much less betrayed than I had when I'd first heard Peta's story.
Meanwhile, the men in the Tavern discussed a different aspect of Boba's life - his head count. Dengar, when he actually showed up, told the best stories - he was the most tactful with the details, leaving out the blood and guts and painting Boba as a hero to bounty hunters everywhere. Throughout the years I gathered that the two of them were casual friends, or that they at least respected each other.
Whenever Dengar mentioned Boba in peril, Tinka and I would both tense in anticipation.
" So," he'd be saying, " He's chasing this guy through the swamp, dodging blaster fire, when from out of nowhere this taistel vine flies out of the muck and attacks him, nearly giving him a concussion -"
" Oh!" Tinka would say, squeezing Dengar's arm, " He didn't break his nose or anything did he?" Dengar would roll his eyes and tell her no, her Prince Charming's features weren't damaged in battle. Tinka would brush him off and tell him he was being ridiculous, but look relieved nonetheless.
I grew to feel like I actually knew these admirers of Boba's, though I'd never gotten up the courage to actually speak to them. I wondered what they thought of me, always sitting alone, never talking to anyone else in the bar.
The latest news about Boba wasn't the only thing I gleaned from them, though - I also overheard information about the state of the government. From what I heard, it wasn't looking good for Joe Average, but the bounty hunters were laughing all the way to the bank when it came to the crumbling of the Republic.
" Bounties are skyrocketing!" they'd say gleefully, " Have you seen the latest from the crooked Senators? Three-hundred thousand for some old guy from Naboo!"
" Naboo," another would say with a scoff, " They've got maybe two antiquated battle droids on the whole planet - security is so lax, that's like taking candy from a baby!" As the foundation of the galaxy's peace deteriorated, the hunters celebrated. And why not? What had the system ever done but persecute them as outlaws?
Meanwhile, I was worried. I was beginning to fear that I'd be stuck on Geonosis for good once the then inevitable wars began, that security all over the galaxy would be so tight that a nobody like me wouldn't have a chance of travelling freely.
I was beginning to think about leaving.
I re-applied to the Republic's flight academy. Thinking they would remember me as a former acceptee who hadn't bothered to show up or even let them know that I was no longer interested, I did so without much hope of being accepted again.
Apparently, they were desperate for pilots - my acceptance letter arrived barely two weeks after I'd sent my application. The clone army that Boba's father had 'so greatly contributed to' (he never told me how - I assumed for a long time that he'd helped to train them, since he and Boba had lived on Kamino, where they'd been developed), was being pulled further and further from the control of the Republic to the control of the Separatists, and the Republic needed good old fashioned humans to fight for their cause.
That's the problem with clones, I would think to myself with a sadistic smirk: they've got no loyalty.
After I got my second acceptance letter, I was more reluctant to celebrate than I had been after receiving the first. I would sit at the mouth of the cave as the sun went down, drinking wine and staring at the letter. How could I go? I had no confidence, not much experience, and not a drop of devotion to the Republic.
But then, I'd think, how could I not go? There was nothing for me on Geonosis. I had once believed that nothing would be enough, but it was not. My memories of Boba were worn like the pages of a book read over and over again - I could not live off of them like I once had. My throat felt clogged with dust and spider webs, it had been such a long time since I'd had a real conversation with another person. There were certain things even an orphan who'd never had anything needed - the smile of a friend, the encouragement of a mentor, the noise of human activity.
I set my fears aside and booked a ticket on a ship to Corasaunt. I sold my crummy speeder to a Rodian kid for fifty credits. In the condition it was in, I should have given it away, but it never hurt to make a little bit of money, and the kid seemed to think he had come across quite a bargain. I packed all of my clothes - a bundle that didn't amount to much - into Boba's old backpack, along with our canteen, the letter he'd left me, and my flashlight.
Everything else, I left behind in the cave. The day I left, I stood at the entrance and looked back at the remains of what was once our life together - the carpets, worn now from being walked on, the bed sheets that I'd folded neatly and placed at the foot of the bed, the kitchen supplies that sat cold and silent on the table. I pressed my lips together, picked up my pack, and turned from all of it.
" Goodbye, Boba!" I called as I ran, almost happy to be leaving, down the rocky terrain toward the road to town. I briefly allowed myself to imagine him returning to find me gone - but I knew, of course, that he would never have the chance. He was never coming back, and now, I decided, neither was I.
I felt free of him as I arrived in town. I walked past his father's grave site without stopping, and headed for the space port. I had left early and had plenty of time before my shuttle lifted off - I was excited this time to travel in space, and more excited to land on Corasaunt - I'd only heard stories and seen pictures of the marvelous planet that was a city.
Of course I was conscious of the fact that Boba might be there - I wasn't sure if he'd gotten completely sidetracked from his revenge scheme or if he was just waiting for the right time to strike.
There was a part of me, a part that couldn't let go, that was hoping I would see him. A smaller part of me even hoped that if I did he would reclaim me and take care of me again. But a place inside that was growing larger with each step away from the cave was squelching these wistful, hopeless parts, and wanted more than anything a chance to prove that I could make it on my own.
I boarded my shuttle and took my seat - the ship was crowded, packed with every species I'd ever read about, and some I hadn't. I was sitting beside an older looking creature, one of the reddish fish people like the hunter I'd seen a few times in the Tavern. He was wearing eyeglasses and nodded off only a few minutes after we cleared Geonosis's atmosphere.
As we flew away, I looked out my window and down at the planet below. It seemed like not so long ago I was watching it as Boba and I ascended toward it, wondering what our life together would be like. Short was the only word I could think of to describe it then.
But other words flooded in as Geonosis grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Happy. Exciting, comfortable, warm. I missed him, missed his confident voice and his more confident touch, and felt angry that he was squandering it away on girls like Peta.
I'll find someone else, I thought, a sudden and very alien idea that my brain nearly rejected upon formation. I couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of man I'd want if it wasn't Boba. All my dreams for the future just led back to his face.
It was easy not to look for someone else at the Academy - the atmosphere was not conducive to romance. At this point, anyone who wasn't deathly serious about fighting the threat that the Separatists presented had joined their more optimistic movement or had turned an apathetic cheek.
Except me, who was just looking for a place, any place, to fit in. And I suppose I did, well enough; no one seemed to suspect that there was no passion behind my flight, my training, my preparations for war.
My days passed much as they had at the orphanage - everything was again gray. Uniforms, boots, bunks, lunch trays. The lights in our humble quarters came on at sunrise, and we removed ourselves quickly from slumber like well-programmed droids. I grew so accustomed to waking at the same time each day that my body would startle itself awake even before the lights and morning alarms glared on in the room.
The days of idly waking in mid-afternoon were long over. Sometimes I would let myself return to them in daydreams - coming to slowly and letting my eyes adjust to the sun through the mouth of the cave, rolling over and gently waking Boba. I'd try to conjure up the memory of his mouth, his skin on mine, his arms around me in our bed - but it had been so long, and doing so was almost painful. I taught myself not to dwell on the past.
I would dress with the other girls in my bunk, all of us in the same clothes, nearly the same sizes. I remember the uncanny way we would all zip up our boots at the same moment - the startling sound of humans moving in efficient unison. Each of us braided our hair at the beginning of the week and washed it at the end of the week. My two sets of neat braids were always pinned tightly to my head - the sharp feeling of my scalp being stretched to its limits kept me alert, I believed.
We would have a quick breakfast in the commons - usually there wasn't much talk in the mornings. We were mostly just children - all secretly exhausted but pretending that we were capable and ready for the conflict to begin at any moment. I still remember the non-taste of the grain blocks they served for breakfast - I told myself it was practical, healthy. I grew to not even notice the absence of taste - it was just matter in my mouth, nutrition grinded by my teeth.
Training with the flight simulators and Republic ships was the best part of any day - I had become at least a competent pilot in my first few months at the academy. I felt so proud on the first day my commander let me fly one of the brand new X-Wings in a routine orbit. So responsible that I ignored my desire to just break orbit and take off into space, to become a drifter again and at least make my own rules. But I had lived that way before - and as much as I sometimes craved it, I knew it would not bring me any more happiness than service in the Army had, and at least while I was working for the Republic I had some sense of purpose.
What that purpose was on a grand level was easy: the preservation of democracy. On a personal level, the question of purpose was harder to answer. What did I care about democracy? What had the government, the Republic, the galaxy ever done for me?
But I stayed. I took comfort in the fact that I was learning a trade - I was becoming a real pilot. Flying eventually lost its novelty and felt more like a job, but I didn't let that bother me. I was nearly past my training period and almost ready to go on missions with the real combatants. The war hadn't actually begun yet, but there was a lot of scouting to do - setting up bases, unofficially claiming territory. It could be dangerous - the Separatists didn't play fair, never had, and you couldn't count on a diplomatic resolution if there was a conflict of interest.
I was about a month from completing my training when a new batch of soldiers arrived from a base on Dantooine - they were older than most of us trainees, and had been working under harsher conditions. I found most of them - especially the boys - rather cocky.
There was one in particular - Darren - who gave me a hard time. I had gone through this with some of the other 'dominant males' in my squads before - because I was a small female with blue eyes and blonde hair, they assumed I didn't belong. I tried my best to prove them wrong, but I was too afraid they were right to really have an effect. I had allowed most of them to brush me off as a little girl in over her head, but Darren really got under my skin.
" Hey!" he shouted at me one day when we were assigned to do an asteroid field navigation exercise together. " What do you think you're doing?" I looked up at him, confused.
" I'm blasting the asteroids out of the way," I said, not understanding how he could have a problem with this - it was how we had always done the program in the past. Get through the ones you can, but if you get in a tight spot, blast them, of course.
" You're wasting precious missiles on asteroids?" he fumed, " What happens when we get through the field and have to face the enemy's ships - we'll have no ammunition left!"
" Well what difference will it make if we let the asteroids smash into us before we get to the enemies?" I asked, surprised with my own boldness - he was an officer, and I was still in training. He outranked me by a million miles, but only for a month longer.
" If you were a better pilot," he said, narrowing his eyes at me, " You wouldn't have to use missiles to get through the asteroids - you could maneuver around them."
" Sorry," I said, defeated - he was right, of course. " But this is the way we've always done it," I looked to Nate, my partner on the training course, to back me up. He just stared at his hands.
" Well now we're changing the way you've always done it," Darren told me.
" You'll get through this course without firing a single blast before you're promoted." I looked up at him like he was crazy.
" You can't make a decision like that!" I said with a scoff. " I'll try my best, but the conditions for promotion won't change just because you think they should."
" Well, we'll see," he said with a smirk, walking off.
" Are you nuts?" Nate hissed after he'd gone. " You can't talk to him like that!"
" Hey, c'mon," I said, " We're practically officers, too. And he was being a jerk! He can't just step in here and tell us how to do things."
" He's no ordinary officer," Nate told me, " He's Lars Bentley's son - he led the effort on Dantooine."
I sighed - Lars was our chief commander on Corasaunt. I had heard stories about his son, a talented soldier and born leader. Personally I had envisioned someone a bit more charming and stately than the wormy Darren, however.
Sure enough, because of Darren's pull with his dad, the rules were changed, and all of the trainees had to complete the advanced level asteroid simulation unarmed before they could graduate to officer. Naturally, because of Nate's big mouth, I was blamed for this, and became even less popular than my build and hair color had caused me to be.
Because I didn't have any friends at the Academy, my free time on weekends was mostly spent wandering Corasaunt alone. I didn't mind so much - there was plenty to do. Maybe out of a foolish hope that Boba might be lurking there, I even took the public tour of the Jedi Academy.
That was the day I met the tall, dark Jedi Mace Windu. I saw him in passing as we walked on our tour through the archives in the basement of the Jedi Council's headquarters - he glanced up and met my eye as I was giving him the distasteful stare I gave all Jedi, thanks to Boba's warnings against them.
Without thinking much of it, I continued on the tour - it was rather dull, and the few Jedi we saw on the tour looked bored and placated - or, as our tour guide had told us, "in a constant state of tranquil meditation."
Of course the only Jedi any of us really wanted to hear about was the one who'd been making the papers - Anakin Skywalker, the talented young man who was rumored to have defected to the Sith, allies of the Separatists and some sort of antithesis to the Jedi.
Nothing was mentioned of Skywalker, and when a young boy in our group raised his hand to ask about him when the floor was opened for questions at the end of the tour, our padawan tour guide snapped something in his direction about Skywalker no longer being associated with the Jedi Council before he could even ask his question out loud. The boy's face turned red - it rather perturbed me that our guide had read his thoughts - had he been reading mine all along, all my resentment toward the Jedi seeping out through my aura?
Nervous, I decided to slip out early, and headed for the exit doors, back out onto the lower level of Corasaunt. I was just starting to think about where I might go for lunch when I heard a voice call my name.
" Ms. Antilles?" I turned to see a Jedi standing at the exit, his head tilted slightly as he gazed a me, curious. He looked calm, but not as passive as most of the Jedi I'd seen that day. His hands were folded neatly in front of him, and yet he had the manner of someone who was prepared to jump into action at any moment. He was the dark-skinned Jedi I'd seen in the archives, I realized.
" How do you know my name?" I asked, wondering if they did retinal scans at the entrance to the Council's headquarters. It was the sort of invasion of privacy that the Republic's supporters were trying to outlaw - and I knew the Jedi were strongly linked with the Republic . . .
" I knew your father," he said, walking to me with a warm smile that I didn't trust. He extended a hand, but I stood still, frowning.
" That's funny, since I've never had one," I said, automatically defensive.
" I'm afraid you never had the chance to meet him," he said, " But I assure you, Ms. Antilles, you did have a father."
" How would you know?" I asked, my heart racing - I wasn't sure I was ready to find out about my family, my past - especially if it included affiliation with the Jedi. " Get out of my head, please," I said, covering my ears as if to block his intrusion. He laughed.
" I was actually quite happy to find that your mind is too strong to be invaded by even me," he said, " When I saw you today, I recognized you by sight and sense, not by reading your thoughts."
" I don't understand," I said, " How can you recognize me by sight - I'm sure I've never seen a Jedi in my life before today. I was raised in an orphanage on Corinth, far from any conflict the Jedi might have presided over."
" The two of us have never met before," he explained, " But in you I recognize the resemblance to your mother. And you have your father's - skepticism when it comes to strangers." He smiled.
" You knew my mother, too?" I said, my knees shaking. I had always assumed my mother was a vagabond, a human tumbleweed who had slipped up and gotten pregnant. To think that she'd been in the company of a Jedi was dizzying.
" Perhaps we should go somewhere more private and talk," he said.
" No place private," I said, lifting my chin and pretending that I wasn't terrified - the idea of my parents as concrete people and not just dreamed images of failure and disappointment was unsettling somehow. " I don't trust Jedi," I told him.
He looked genuinely concerned. " Why not?" he asked.
" I had a friend who suffered a great loss at the hands of a Jedi," I said, not wanting to reveal too much. Part of me was also afraid to learn the truth about Jango and why he was killed.
He sighed, and looked to the ground before regaining his composure and continuing. " Sadly," he said, " Some in our order have turned to the dark side of the force during the trying times we've faced in the last ten years."
" Oh, so you'll admit it?" I asked, being nasty to him for Boba's sake. " No one seems to want to talk about Anakin Skywalker these days." The man's eyes grew dark at the mention of Skywalker's name.
" Skywalker is not a sore subject for me," he said, " If you distrust the Jedi Order because of his actions -"
" I don't believe what he's done has been disclosed exactly," I cut in.
" Then you should know," he continued, " That I was one of the principal objectors to his acceptance into the Academy. Please, Ms. Antilles. Don't turn me away - I couldn't bear to think that you might go through life not knowing how grand your parents were when they were alive."
My resolve cracked, and my eyes threatened to fill, but I pushed my emotions aside - something that had become easier since my months spent going through the motions at the Flight Academy.
" So they're both dead then," I said, my voice losing its bitter edge, " My father, too." He nodded gravely.
" He died honorably, as your mother did, in her own way," he said. " If you like, we could trade what information we know, and try to put together the pieces of what happened to them."
" Alright," I said, sniffling and squaring my shoulders. " But in a public place, if you don't mind."
He smiled. " I don't believe I've told you my name," he said. " Mace Windu."
This time, I shook his hand. I had no idea who he was then, and wouldn't for a long time. Just someone who had known my parents, someone who happened to be a Jedi Master.
The stars of my fate moved cruelly that day, and I didn't even know it - that I was shaking hands with Jango Fett's killer. That, so far away from him, I had managed to find myself in the exact place where Boba would have most liked to be standing.