Author Note: Here you go guys. Don't worry. I am trying to work every favourite character into the story one way or another, so be patient. But for now, why not become aquainted with Odysseus, I mean ...
Jango stood in the ruins of an ivy-covered temple on a cliff above the sea, sparring with his son Boba. Both men were using wooden practice poles. Boba was a talented, lean, flashy young fighter. His pole whirled in the air like a thing alive.
Jango, by contrast, was the opposite and was an efficient combatant, wasting no energy, waiting for weakness.
Boba pressed in on the attack. Jango tilted his head to avoid one thrust and side-stepped to avoid another.
Spying a momentary opening he lunged forward and tapped Boba's belly with the tip of his pole.
"You're getting fat, son," he remarked. Boba grinned and relaunched his attack, pole spinning with blazing speed. Jango ducked beneath an arcing swing and tapped Boba on the back.
"Fancy tricks. The girls must be impressed."
Boba grunted and charged in again. This time a genuine duel developed, featuring splendid repartee and parrying.
"A little nervous, aren't you?" Boba countered.
"Terrified," came the sarcastic reply.
Jango raised his right hand and Boba lifted his pole to parry the blow -- but Jango no longer held his pole in his right hand. Pole in his left hand, Jango tapped Boba on the chest. Boba stared down at the wooden pole.
"You told me never to switch sword hands!"
Jango rolled his head to loosen his neck.
"By the time you know how to do it, you won't be following my orders anymore."
Jango tossed aside the pole and cocked his head as if listening to some distant sound. Boba, oblivious to the noise, practiced his swordplay by attacking one of the nearby pillars.
Jango's foot curled around the wood shaft of one of the electro-spears lying on the ground. In one impossibly fast motion, he fliped the spear into the air with his foot, caught it, and threw it in the opposite direction from where he was looking.
The bronze warhead blazed between the temple's walls and drove into the trunk of an old fir tree several meters away.
And then Darth Maul emerged sitting on a Sith speeder, stopped inches from the quivering shaft of the spear blocking his path. He stared at the spear for a moment
before ducking his head under the shaft and walking forward.
"Your reputation for hospitality is fast becoming legend," he called.
"I don't like that smile, my friend. It's the smile you smile when you want me to fight in another war. Boba, my son -- Darth Maul, Lord of Iridonia.
"Boba, son of this the mighty Jango?"
Boba nodded and Darth Maul gripped his shoulder.
"Now you have this one watching over you, eh? Learning from Jango Fett himself? -- every boy in the galaxy must be jealous," he complimented and Boba grinned. Then Maul turned to Jango.
"We need to talk."
Taking the hint, Boba stepped back a little to allow the two to talk. He went back to attacking the pillar with his pole.
"Tell me you're not here at Sidious's bidding," Jango said once Boba was supposedly out of earshot. Maul hesitated and Jango shook his head.
"How many times have I done the savage work for the King of Kings? And when has he ever shown me the respect I've earned?"
"I'm not asking you to fight for him. I'm asking you to fight for the Greeks."
"Why? Are the Imperials tired of fighting each other?"
"For now," Maul sighed.
"The Nubians never did anything to me."
"They insulted the Empire."
"They insulted one Imperial, a man who couldn't hold on to his wife. What business is that of mine?" Jango snapped.
"Your business is war, my friend."
"Is it? Can my sword be bought and sold without my knowledge? I don't want to be remembered as a tyrant's mercenary."
"Forget Sidious. Fight for me. My wife will feel much better if she knows you're by my side. I'll feel much better," Maul asked.
"Is Count Dooku going to fight on Naboo?" Boba asked. He had obviously been listening after all. Jango smiled at his son's cunning and skills that he had quickly picked up from his father.
"Of course. You've heard of Dooku, eh?" Maul asked, focusing his attention on Boba instead.
"They say he can fell a wompa with one swing of his saber."
"Anyone with half a brain can do that," Jango remarked and Maul chuckled, but he was alert to the boy's enthusiasm.
"We're sending the largest fleet that ever sailed -- a thousand ships."
"A thousand ships! Prince Obi-Wan, is he as good a warrior as they say?"
"The best of all the Nubians. Some say he's better than all the imperials, too. Even if your father doesn't come, Boba, I hope you'll join us. We could use a strong arm like yours."
Boba beamed with pride and looked at his dad. Jango wrapped his arm around Maul's shoulders and leaned closer to the Iridonian. The embrace was friendly, but there was no mistaking the power in Jango's grip.
"Play your tricks on me, if you'd like. But leave my son out of it," he whispered into Maul's ear.
"You have your skills, I have my tricks. We play with the toys the gods give us," Maul smiled and walked back to his Sith speeder.
"We leave for Naboo in three days. This war will never be forgotten. Nor will the heroes who fight in it."
Boba, who was both eager and frustrated, watched him ride away down the hill.