Under the rubbish and sacking lay Boba Fett. Anakin could see the small boy, not yet a teen, glaring at him with an intensity he recognized. Boba unfolded himself to stand at his full, albeit diminutive, stature. Arms crossed defensively across his chest. He kept Anakin's gaze, not backing down for a second. Anakin remembered that look. He had worn it a lot when he was a kid.

Anakin held his hand out to the kid. "This doesn't have to be difficult. Come with me, we don't want to hurt you." Boba remained motionless, making no move toward Anakin. This kid has nothing to lose, thought Anakin, and when you have nothing to lose, you have no reason to give in.

Rex hovered near the doorway of the galley. It wasn't really roomy enough for him and Anakin to be inside together. "Have you got him, sir?"

"Not yet."

Rex glanced at the towering Jedi warrior, and then leaned a little to see around him and view the short boy. "Do you...ah, need help, sir?"

"I got this, Rex."

Rex loosed the binder cuffs from his belt.

Anakin spoke calmly, but still loud enough to be heard over the noise that still reigned in the hangar. "Come on, kid. You know you're out of options. It's not worth it for you or anybody to keep fighting at this point. Let's not have a problem."

Boba still didn't budge. He wasn't going to give the Jedi the pleasure of caving into them.

Anakin took things into his own hands. He didn't like to manhandle children, but sometimes, like when they were ex-cons, you had to make exceptions to the rules. Placing his hands on Boba's arms he lifted the child free of the bin. Setting him down he turned him around, and accepting Rex's binders, cuffed the boy's hands.

Despite the knowledge that this boy had attempted to assassinate Master Windu, and had actually caused many deaths, it was still strange to treat one so young and so small as a prisoner. He knew the kid could be lethal, but that didn't make it any less weird. "Let's go."

As the men and their prisoner left the hangar, they were met by the owner of the shipyard, the hangar manager, twenty firefighters, several police officers and a large group of civilian spectators. After explaining themselves and showing their clearance, Anakin, Rex and Boba were allowed to leave.

Upon returning to their ship Anakin guided Boba to a seat, securing his binder cuffs to the seat with a cable tie, and went to prep the engines. Rex removed his helmet keeping an eye on the kid. It seemed like the boy was resigned to his fate as a prisoner of the Republic once more. Rex wanted to say something comforting to the him, the poor kid didn't look happy at all.

Rex opened his mouth when he heard some swearing come from the cockpit. Anakin came back to the cabin. "Well, gentlemen, it seems we get to stick around Mandalore for a while yet. There's a big solar flare underway and we won't be able to leave until tomorrow. Make yourselves comfy."

Anakin sat soggily on one of the seats that lined the walls. Rex could tell he was anxious to get this assignment over with. This 'light duty' assignment had been anything but fun. Turning back to Boba he said, "Are you hungry? Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

Boba sat slumped in his seat, gazing at his knees. "No."

Of all of them he was the least wet, but Rex tried again. "Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?"

Sitting up, Boba looked up at Rex, then at Anakin, and back to Rex. "Don't patronize me. I can handle myself. I don't need your pity or anything else you try to force on me. Just let me be."

"Hey there, cool it," Anakin said, "Rex was just trying to make you more comfortable. We don't want to hurt you."

Boba straightened up even more, glaring. "That's all Jedi do, is hurt people. A great and noble order of butchers, defending the rich and mighty in the galaxy."

"Settle down." Rex said sharply. He really didn't care for General Skywalker being talked about in such a way. "No one wants you to come to harm. That doesn't mean you ain't gotta pay for the crimes you committed."

"What do you even want with me. Haven't I paid enough? Is one jailbird really worth the time of such a famous Jedi?"

"Maybe not," Anakin answered, "but your genes are worth a lot to the Republic. We're taking you to Kamino so that the Kaminoans can gather some samples of untampered clone genetics."

Boba flushed, partially with rage, but also embarrassment. He never thought of himself as a clone, but the rest of the galaxy wouldn't let him forget it. "My dad signed up for that, not me. Maybe you should've thought about that before you murdered him."

Anakin was beginning to get a little annoyed, but he wasn't sure he was annoyed at Boba. The words came out of his mouth before he could stop himself, even though he wasn't sure he believed any of them. "Sometimes it's necessary to do extreme things for the greater good. The Republic needs untampered clone genes."

Anger flashed in Boba's eyes. "I'm not a slave and I'm not a clone. You can't just use me like you use the others." He nodded towards Rex. "He may be a slave to the will of the Republic, but not me. I had a dad, I had family, and I'm a free person. You can't treat me like a clone because I'm not!"

Rex swallowed. He didn't like being called a slave. He liked to think that he had freedom, at least as much as anyone did. However, this wasn't the first time he had heard this sentiment, and it wasn't the first time words like that had come from a clone, either. "Settle down, kid, you don't have to like being a clone but you can't pretend you aren't, life don't work that way. And because of you being a clone, that makes you important. We all have to do our part and it ain't always fun, but every one of us has a duty to perform and our duty must come first."

"My duty is to achieve justice for my dad. I don't owe anything to the Republic, or Kamino, or clones. And stop calling me kid," he glared at Rex. "I'm older than you are, though everyone seems to forget that. I'm not a kid, and I'm not a child. I get by on my own, I take care of myself, and I don't hide behind my 'brothers' when things get tough. I have a name, a first and a last one. I'm a real person. I don't belong to the government or anyone else but myself."

Anakin was beginning to feel angry. Boba had struck a nerve. Anakin remembered many of those words pouring off his own lips when he had been a slave on Tatooine. He remembered the constant fight for identity. How hard it was to get people to realize that he wasn't a slave, but a person. That he had a name besides "boy" and dreams and desires of his own. Anakin didn't like to dwell on his past, but looking at this boy- no, looking at Boba was like looking into a mirror. Young, tough, and scared. Only wanting people to take him seriously, only wanting to be seen as a person. Only wanting to be free. "I think we've had enough talk." he snapped at Boba. Boba slumped back into his seat quietly, though Anakin could still see the fierce defiance in his eyes.

Rex, too, sat back in began to wipe off his armor and readjust his helmet settings. He didn't speak again, he could tell General Skywalker was angry with this mission. Rex couldn't say that he was too happy with it himself. He knew that Boba was in a strange middle-ground. A place Rex could only observe. Boba had been raised with an identity, knowing who he was, but that had been stripped away when his father died and the war started. To the galaxy he was just a wayward, even defective, clone. Someone who needed restrained, retrained, or controlled.

In other ways, though, Rex thought he knew exactly how Boba felt. He knew how some generals ignored the fact that the clones created identity for themselves. Some, many even, called the clones by their numbers only, refusing to acknowledge their names. While he might be chronologically younger than Boba, and physically older, Boba reflected the same struggle that he and all clones faced, and probably would face, throughout their entire lives. Rex heaved a sigh and tried to push away those depressing thoughts. He didn't even know if he would live through the war, it was no use thinking about anything other than his duty right now, and that, at least, was clear cut.

Finishing cleaning up his helmet from the water, Rex laid aside his tools, replaced it on his head and sat back. Rex had the distinct feeling that this mission would rank as one of the ones he was least proud of and most eager to forget.