The Deathstar was going to blow. Boba Fett was well aware of the urgency as he forced open the cell door. He called out to her, but she didn't respond. Greta was lying in the corner of the cell, face pressed up against a filthy grate. Thankfully, the sensor readings on his HUD showed she was still alive, but just barely. Quickly, he gave her a dose of a rare bacta serum, a concoction so expensive he only used it himself on point of death – like surviving a few hours in the belly of a Sarlacc.
Explosions erupted deep within the Deathstar and the walls shook. Fett knew the Rebels were getting the upperhand and it wouldn't be long until the Empire's prized weapon would implode on itself. He had to get Greta out of here, and fast.
But he didn't realize how fast he had to act. Within seconds, Greta had already charged him, throwing them both out of the cell with surprising force. The look on her face was wild, changed. And under the dim light of the hallway, he saw a long scar along her forehead leading to a cybernetic eye.
"I killed you . . . cut your hands off!" she screamed, hitting him with blinding force. Even through the durasteel armour, he felt the blows to his solar plexus and the sensitive areas burned from his encounter with the Sarlacc. "Why won't you die?"
It surprised him how quick she was – and how strong. The last time he had wrestled with her, she didn't nearly have the force she did now, nor the skill. She dodged his attempts to hold her with ease, and came at him with an aggressiveness he had never seen in her before. In his coming to the Deathstar, he hadn't counted on having to put up such a fight. He had left Tatooine in bad shape, knowing he had enough strength to fend off measly Stormtroopers. But this – hit after hit – Fett actually began to worry Greta could kill him before he had a chance to explain. The bacta he had given her wasn't even supposed to affect her for another couple hours. But he had had no choice. She was dying when he found her.
It took most of his strength to finally get a hold of her arms, pulling her close to him. "It's me, Greta. We have to get out of here. I'm trying to save you." Greta stopped struggling, the fog of her dreams leaving her. The voice like gravel, the smell of blasterfire, the slightly metallic, earthy scent. Her pupils widened. It was him.
The Deathstar rumbled around them, then jolted violently, throwing them both in different directions. Smoke began filling the room.
"Save, me? Where were you when they did this to me?" she hissed, getting to her feet.
"Probably in the Sarlacc. Being digested," he growled.
"Leave it to you to survive even that." A metal crossbar from the ceiling dislodged, crashing between them. Boba Fett staggered toward her, trying to close the distance.
"The girl, Lethia," he said. "She helped me."
"She should have killed you while she had the chance."
"She tried."
Greta's eyes narrowed angrily, her voice strangled. "If you've hurt her . . ."
"She's safe. I promised her I would find you."
"Promised?" she spat, anger once again welling up inside. Fett rounded the fallen pieces of ceiling, approaching her slowly like she was a wounded animal. "Your promises are worth nothing."
He caught her arm, pulling her back. She fought against his hold, and slammed her elbow into his diaphragm, despite his armour. "You've found me," she growled near his earpiece. "But you'll never use me again." Fett doubled over, as the more severe Sarlacc burns on his side cracked open. He sucked in a deep breath against the pain. Seizing the opportunity, she delivered several sharp kicks to his injured side. He fell to his hands and knees, gasping. She closed in on him, ready to strike again, when she saw dark liquid running down the edge of his helmet. It dripped on the white tiled floor, forming a red pool near his hands.
The rage that was driving her subsided. She stared at the blood, unsure of herself and her resolve to destroy him. She had never seen anything human about him before. She knelt down beside him and held out her hand to touch the edge of his helmet, the blood running slowly, some of it running down his neck guard. Though something within her called out for revenge, her heart refused to go any further. It was as though her old self was returning from watching the bloodshed, her conscience now able to control her again. She blinked and looked down. Fett had put his hand in hers, dropping something small and hard in her palm. It was her holocube, strung on the chain he had gave her.
"Greta, I'm sorry," he said quietly, through laboured breathing. "For everything."
Greta stared at the holocube in her hand, absently touching the implant in her right eye. The throbbing in her head grew quiet.
Fett reached up and touched her face. "Please. Forgive me."
She looked at his visor, searching his eyes and finding only her own, miserable reflection. Still, she said nothing, her lips forming a hard line. As the Deathstar began to groan and shake with more violence, she only stared at him, clutching the holocube in her fist. She got to her feet and backed away.
More smoke flooded the hallway as Fett struggled to stand, the pain of his blistered skin overwhelming him. He tried to close the distance between them, but she continued to back away until he could only see her faintly, shaking her head, with sorrow in her face. Another explosion and more smoke. She was gone.