Prologue
0 BBY
Boba stood next to the ramp of the Millennium Falcon, blaster rifle held low across his chest, but ready at a moment’s notice. Beneath the inscrutable visor, his eyes were locked on the Wookie. The two Rodians stood forward and to the side, pistols drawn and fingers curled on the triggers. He could see them watching the pissed-off human intently. Amateurs.
Solo was quick and a accurate, but he was also distracted, unarmored. His blaster was holstered far from his flailing hands. His co-pilot, on the other hand, held a crossbow, bolt nocked. Wookies were notoriously hard to take down, and while this one was adding additional complaints and vocalizing support for his partner’s rant, he was also very aware of his surroundings.
Boba believed in being prepared for every situation. He’d had been in Jabba’s service for the better half of his life now and these two were no strangers to the crime lord and, thus, had a thick file compiled in the bounty hunter’s head. Han Solo was a fast draw, an impressive shot, and a hell of a pilot with Imperial Navy training. But the true threat was the Wookie. More than a century and a half older than either Boba or Solo, Chewbacca had fought beside the Grand Republic Army notably at the Battle of Kashyyyk. Whatever Boba’s personal feelings for Jedi and clones, if a warrior earned their respect, then he was a threat to be monitored closely.
Smugglers, on the other hand, where the worst scum. Always whining and refusing to take responsibility. At least when his hard merchandise tried to barter for their lives, they would admit to having made a mistake. Almost to a one.
“It’s not my fault! Even I get boarded sometimes, Jabba.” Solo continued his tedious and predictable dance. “Look, I got something in the works. I’ll get you your money, I just need a little more time.”
“Han, my boy, you’re the best there is. An additional twenty percent—”
“Fifteen!”
“Fifteen, but if you fail me again, I’ll put a bounty on your head so big there will be nowhere in the galaxy for you to hide.”
The Hutt turned and gestured for his entourage to follow. Boba remained still by the gangway. Making sure the message was clear. It was one thing to have a tempting bounty on your head, sending every hunter out to scour every meteor cave in the galaxy, and other thing entirely to have one large enough to afford the services of Boba Fett. The bounty Jabba had spoken of was the latter.
After a beat, seeing Solo hesitate, the bounty hunter casually swung his rife onto his back and started out of the hanger. That pause had told him everything he needed to know. There was no big job and if Solo didn’t come up with something soon, he’d be sitting in the cell onboard The Oya.
Once again at ground level, in the blistering heat of Tatooine’s twin suns, Boba headed for one of the seedier bars of Mos Eisley. His contract with Jabba was loose so, while he answered to criminal daimyo first, the greedy Hutt was unwilling to pay a high enough retainer to keep a taut leash on this particular bounty hunter. Boba was free to take other jobs or otherwise occupy his own time, as long as it didn’t interfere with Jabba’s business.
The moment he walked in the bar fell silent. Even the cantina wailer in the corner stopped the music and shift uncomfortably. Boba’s armor was legendary throughout the galaxy. The bartender slammed a glass on counter and squirted an iridescent blue liquid in. It was the same drink he had offered Boba the first time he had come in the bar. Not one to drink on the job, and perpetually on the job, it really hadn’t mattered to him. He’d paid and accepted the drink. Since then, it had become his usual and, as usual, he placed a credit chit next to the drink, picked up the glass and carried it to a recently vacated booth far from the door with a good view of the space.
A few creatures got up and left. In all likelihood, they had bounties on their heads, but they were small fish. Today Boba was casting a wider net for less tangible prey. He was scouting information. With the press of a button, a small dish popped up from his gauntlet. He fiddled with the adjustments until the whispers of the bar came flooding into his helmet. Then he leaned back, eyes on the door. It wasn’t long before the music started again and voices began to rise, competing with each other and the electronic beat.
A few standard hours later, an unlikely quartet came down the stairs into the musty cool of the bar. They hardly looked the type. The young human looked local. Perhaps eager to prove something by entering such a dangerous scene, but the two droids and hooded companion belied that.
While the teen gawked at the room, his companion continued down the stairs, lowering the hood of his cloak. Boba squinted behind his vison as the helmet adjusted for lighting, picking out identifying details. There was something familiar about the old man who was now speaking with a pilot in a fight suit.
“We don’t serve their kind in here!” The bar tender’s voice boomed over the general din, seeming to startle the human still frozen just inside the establishment. “Your droids. They have to wait outside.”
The older human cast a quick glance as his companion shooed the two droids back out, then turned back to the pilot he’d been speaking with.
It had been more than twenty standard years since their last encounter, and the sands of Tatooine had added even more time to that face, but Boba was certain. He grunted softly. The hubris of the Jedi to be on Tatooine, of all places. They had considered themselves above the rest of the galaxy before the rise of the empire and it seemed the near decimation of their numbers hadn’t changed much. This meant the young man with Kenobi was the son of the one creature in the galaxy Boba feared.
For a moment Boba allowed himself to acknowledge the feeling of discomfort that welled in him. Surely the old man hadn’t been foolish enough to have hidden his charge here, of all places. The thought was irritating, but the realization that he hadn’t realized the two had been on the same planet as him for two decades turned that frustration in on himself. Granted, this was the one blind spot he had allowed himself. When he had left Coruscant he had willfully avoided any tidbit of information that had the faintest stink of Skywalker on it. He gritted his teeth. He didn’t appreciate surprises but had to take his share of responsibility for allowing himself to be blindsided.
He watched as the pilot shook his head and walked away from the Jedi. Kenobi gestured to his young companion to follow him deeper into the bar, but he sidled up to the bar instead. A small smile tugged the corner of Boba’s mouth. Arrogant shit. He was his father’s son, for sure.
Kenobi slipped into booth near where Boba lurked. Seeing the younger man was distracted, the bounty hunter took the opportunity for a private chat. To his credit, the old man managed to keep his expression steady when Boba slid onto a seat across the small table.
“Last place I would have expected you to be. Guess I gave you more credit than I should have.”
“I seem to remember you being offered a voice in the planning.”
“I wasn’t looking for a babysitting job. Hadn’t realized I was the only adult in the room.” The Jedi scoffed at that statement, but Boba pressed on. “Please tell me the other one didn’t go back to Naboo with the mother.”
“Of course not! We aren’t fools.”
“The fact we are having this conversation negates that statement, don’t you think?”
“From the moment he last left, Anakin wanted nothing to do with Tatooine. As far as he was concerned, after his mother was killed he had no ties to this place. It was the one place he would never allow himself to even remember it existed. The safest place I could think of, and it seems I was right.”
“Until now.”
“An unrelated turn of events that I fear may bring unwanted Imperial attention.”
“So, you need a ship?”
“Are you offering? From what I recall The Oya is—”
“Out of your price range.” Boba leaned back, preparing to go but added, “Hanger Bay 94.”
“A good pilot?”
“A desperate pilot. For credits and to be off this rock. I’d hurry.”
Just as Boba stood, voices began to rise by the bar. “He said he doesn’t like you. I don’t like you either.” Kenobi was on his feet, a silver glint in the deep gloom of the bar was evidence his lightsaber was in hand. Making use of the distraction, Boba left without notice. He’d done his part, which was more than he’d promised to do when collecting the bounty on the life of the senator from Naboo.
