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The Fett Dynasty II: Siege of Orri Prime	By : WLTDNFADED Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 3811 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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OK, just to let you all know right now that this is NOT ALL OF CHAPTER 3. Like so many other writers here on this site and just about all over the world, I have run head-smack into a bad case of WRITER�S BLOCK. But instead of waiting for some sort of divine inspiration or for my new head to come from E-bay, I decided just to post what I have so far. I hope you all enjoy what�s here and I promise the rest is coming soon!

Ivy

Episode 2

Chapter Three

Stirrings Of Light and Shadow

�WHAT DO YOU MEAN EIGHT MORE WEEKS?� Lando Calrissian bellowed into the com.

Ralan Stitz stopped dead in his tracks as he was about to enter his superior�s office. Slinking back behind the doorjamb, he nervously clutched his datapads to his side and rolled his eyes as he listened to Lando�s furious diatribe. The Baron was still in a foul mood, as he had been for the last week since his last meeting with Lady I�Lai and her bounty-hunter lover. It was going to be another long day.

�Listen,� Lando growled into the small mic, �I ordered those parts over three months ago, and now you�re telling me that I have to wait another eight standard weeks! I�m sitting on top of the richest durasteel mine in the galaxy with no protection save for five X-wing fighters and�� He was curtly cut off by a stream of babble that sounded suspiciously Neimoidian. He raised his brows as he angrily replied, �Not your problem, huh? Well, I�ll make it your problem if you don�t get those plasma generator parts to me by the end of the week! I�ve got eighty perimeter defense satellites rusting in storage with no weapons and�� More babbling. �Yes, I DO have to take that tone with you! What? Oh no, you did NOT just say that! I want to speak with your superior�Hello? HELLO?? AGH!� He slammed his palm against the com button and stormed about his office. �Neimoidian crooks! You can�t tell me the Empire isn�t paying them off to hold our shipments! If the Imps can�t beat us with sheer force, then they�ll bribe whomever they can in the Corporate Sector! Slimy, mangy little--� He stopped his furious pacing. �STITZ!� The only part of Stitz that appeared in the door was the top of his head and two large, anxious eyes peering from behind the doorjamb. �Get them back on com! I don�t care if I have to scream my way up to the corporate czar, I want an answer TODAY!�

�Um�a suggestion, sir?� Stitz muttered nervously while clearing his throat.

Lando shot him a glare. �What?�

Breathing deeply, Stitz said in his most controlled tones, �You may want to think about calming down first, sir.� He flinched.

Lando opened his mouth, fully intent on unleashing a new tirade on his assistant, when he stopped himself. Exhaling sharply, he leaned on his desk and took a few deep breaths himself. He looked up at the young man. �You�re right, Captain. Screaming isn�t going to get me anywhere. Especially with Neimoidian generator salesmen. It�s just that the longer we wait for those parts, the longer we�ll be at risk for an attack, either by the Empire or�aagh.� He took his seat and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. �I have to admit that sometimes I miss the complete autonomy I had on Cloud City. I had ways around such red tape and headaches there but, unfortunately, President Organa wants everything �by the book�.� He sighed. �I don�t know�I think this position is getting to me.�

Stitz meekly stepped into Lando�s office and shut doordoor behind him. �Sir, permission to speak? Candidly?� He lowered his tone a bit. �As a friend?�

The Baron lowered his hand from his eyes and looked at his assistant. �Granted, Ralan.�

Stitz paused for a moment, weighing his words carefully before speaking. �Is it the position that�s getting to you, sir�or her?�

Lando again glared at Stitz, narrowing his eyes. �And just who are we talking about, Stitz?�

�The Lady I�Lai, sir.�

�That is none of your business, Captain,� Lando grumbled under his breath.

�Well, in a way, it is. She�has this affect on everyone, Baron. You wouldn�t be the first.� Stitz braced himself for Lando�s seething reaction: He breathed a sigh of relief when the Baron said nothing. He pressed on. �I know you two had words at your last meeting, and you haven�t spoken since. And I also know you have�deep feelings for her.�

�And just how do you know that?� Lando muttered warily.

�Because�I do too.� He noted the surprised look in Lando�s eyes before continuing. �I�Lai just seems to have this�influence on people, particularly men. It isn�t intentional; she doesn�t even realize she does. She just naturally draws people to her, makes them�want her. Want to please her, to be close to her. To love her.� A half-smile tugged at his lip. �Maybe it�s pheromones. Maybe it�s because she�s a Force sentient. Or maybe it�s because she is a beautiful woman with a decent heart. I don�t know, but I can tell you this; the first few months I was stationed here undercover for the Alliance and working so closely with her, I couldn�t get her off my mind. I dreamt about her every night. That was partly the reason I petitioned for the position as your assistant here in the Southern hemisphere. I hate to say this, but�I needed to distance myself from her because I was, and still am, very much in love with her.�

Lando sat silent for many long moments, contemplating his assistant�s words. He had been feeling like a desperate moon-eyed schoolboy in her presence for weeks. Gods knew I�Lai wasn�t the first beautiful woman who had ever turned his head. Frankly, he had lost count of his romantic conquests years ago, and he had actually been quite fond of several of them. So why did this woman seem to drive him so crazy? Was it just her beauty, or her intelligence mixed with her oddly engaging na�vet�? Was it her dignified manner and her engrained gentility? Or was it because she only regarded Lando as a friend while endearing herself to a cruel, ruthless mercenary he thought beneath her, a man who had been, and quite possibly still was, his mortal enemy?

He suddenly smirked in his reverie---maybe Stitz had a point. He had carefully watched Boba Fett�s conduct around I�Lai, and noticed how he seemed to soften around her. Well, maybe soften wasn�t the word; but he was definitely less brutal in her presence, and she seemed have a soothing affect on the notorious bounty hunter�if I�Lai could tame Fett�s angry feral heart, why wouldn�t she have the same affect on a suave, debonair urbanite like himself? Perhaps there was something within her, something intangible, mysterious�

Finally, he said in a quiet tone, �So�you took this position to heal your heart. What do you advise I do, Captain Stitz? Leave Orri Prime entirely?�

Stitz smiled softly. �No, not at all, sir. Just accept that she has made her choice and respect it, no matter how much you disagree with it. And don�t stop loving her. Remain her good friend and advisor. Respectfully, sir.�

Lando pursed his lips, giving Stitz a sidelong glance. �Ralan, how old are you?�

�Twenty-two, sir.�

�You could�ve fooled me.� A pause. �Thank you.�

Stitz�s smile broadened. �You�re welcome, sir. I�ll see if I can get Gen Corp back on com.� He turned to leave, but then remembered something. �Oh, I almost forgot�Gadd Thutchen called earlier regarding his brother Burl�s absence. I told him Burl had left the planet, probably for a brief vacation and that he shouldn�t worry.�

Lando�s brow wrinkled deeply as he sat straighter in his chair. �Burl Thutchen left the planet? By whose authority?�

Stitz furrowed his brow in response. �Why�by yours, sir. I have the leave authorizations right here.� He extended one of the datapads in his arm to Lando. As Lando took it, he pointed to the screen. �That�s your electronic stamp, isn�t it?�

Lando perused the screen. He shook his head. �I never approved this.�

�But sir, your stamp��

�I think I would have remembered approving the passport of a man I just dismissed from the militia, Stitz!� Lando snapped. He looked at the screen again. �This was dated a week ago! He�s been gone that long?�

�It appears so, sir. Is this a problem, sir?�

He looked at Stitz from under his brow. �It could be, Captain.� He rose from his chair. �Run a check on that passport. I want to know where he�s been. And I want it yesterday, understand?�

Stitz drew himself to attention. �Yes, sir.� As he left Calrissian�s office, he pondered whether to mention the missing security holodisc from the Lady I�Lai�s private garden recorder, but quickly decided that this was definitely not the time�
* * *
BOUNTY: Nikto�Red Mutation, male

NAME: Nnsheeat, Baac

ALIASES: Bacan Two-sheets, Crea�lee Sgl-cantara, Brakendi sot Red

WANTED FOR: Grand Theft Starship, Fraud (30 counts), Assault, Assault with a deadly weapon, Petty Larceny

CONTRACTOR: To�ok Cambri, CSA

REWARD: 50K c. live, 25K c. dead

�Fifty grand, hmm, Baac?� Fett muttered as he flicked a bit of dust off the viewer. His voice became as cool as tempered steel. �Your time is coming.�

The quiet beep of the nav system alerted him that the Slave I was nearing its destination. Expertly running his hands over the controls, he reined the vessel back from its velocity through hyperspace, easing it until the stars no longer streaked in ribbons in front of him and space itself once again became black and mute. He couldn�t help but take a brief second to run his palm across the slick edge of the control console of his most prized possession: He had missed it as he had missed the frigid vacuity of space, the jolt of g-forces when entering hyperspace. The Slave I was more to him than ju shi ship. It was his comrade in arms, his trusted companion, the very extension of himself, as it was almost as infamous as he. It had been quite literally his cradle and, Slayer willing, would be his sepulcher when the inevitable finally came.

I hope you know how lucky you are, Calrissian, he thought to himself. If you had done any damage to this ship� no one would ever find you.

The Y�Toub system ascended from just below the artificial horizon line. As Nal Hutta and its port moon Nar Shaddaa morphed into clarity through the viewshield, Fett punched the nav coordinates into the computer. Conquered by the Hutts centuries earlier, the repulsive slug-like race had named the planet Nal Hutta--- �Glorious Jewel� in Basic. What a joke. Nal Hutta was about as glorious and jewel-like as day-old milk-ale vomit. A colossal world the color of fermented pus, it had little more to offer than massive methane swamps and the distasteful Huttese architecture that slowly sank into them. If Tatooine is the ass-end of the universe, Fett mused, then Nal Hutta is a hemmoroid.

He switched on the stealth system: Since Nar Shaddaa was not his immediate destination, there was no need for anyone to know he was coming�yet. Besides, he had never been entirely welcome here in the Corellian sector, so why call attention. Fett smirked as he glanced at the variety of other vessels surrounding him on their way to the Smuggler�s Moon, completely oblivious of his presence within their formations.

�Cam Sss�krate,� he whispered as he noted one beaten wreck of a ship in particular. �You still owe me ten thousand credits, friend.�

Fett sighed. Cam, Baac Nnsheeat, the scores of other bounties he had been downloading in recent days and the fortunes they would bring in�would simply have to wait. He needed to remain dead to the galaxy a while longer.

As his neighboring ships headed straight toward the eyesore of jutting steel towers and landing platforms that Nar Shaddaa had become over the years, the Slave I veered in a graceful arc around it. As Fett shot one last glance at the Smuggler�s Moon, he unexpectedly conjured an image of I�Lai on that moon, clutching Kai to her breast, looking lost and frightened amidst the smugglers, pirates, criminals, and all-around scum. He suddenly envisioned a band of such scum grabbing her off the mesh-metal streets, pulling her into an alley, her eyes huge with terror, screaming his name---

He frowned as he shook the image from his mind�s eye. Why the hell think something like that? He would never bring her or his son to a place like this. He would never expose them to this life. He had left her and Kai safe amongst the trees and blooming flowers on her mountainous paradise of Orri Prime�

As he would always have to leave her�

�Stop it,� he admonished himself in a growl, curling his fist. �No distractions.� He steered the ship further away from Nar Shaddaa and headed toward a tiny mud-brown dot in the distance�

* * *

Although Nar Shaddaa was Nal Hutta�s only specific moon, the gaseous planet had several hundred tiny asteroid-like satellites orbiting its noxious girth. Theory stated that Nal Hutta might have had several moons in the prehistoric past that had fallen victim to meteor strikes, thus pulverizing them into nothing more than dust and floating rocks. The Hutts, however repugnant in both body and soul, still had the wondrous capability to make a profit off ANYTHING, including the seemingly useless natural satellites. As many of these asteroids actually had substantial mass for colonizing, they sold many of them off as private homesteads (their marketing tag line read, �Own your own little planet for a fraction of conquering one! Atmosphere and grav systems not included�). Since there were so many of these small craggy satellites, the Hutts generally sold them for a song, and usually to somewhat disreputable, down-on-their luck individuals of all races and species who were either hiding out from various galactic governments or just preferred to keep to themselves.

Watto, the junk-dealing waspy-winged Toydarian pod-race enthusiast and overall compulsive gambler formerly of Tatooine was one of them; although even he wasn�t entirely sure which category he fell into.

Having purchased his little piece of iron-cored paradise some dozen stad yed years earlier, Watto tapped his seldom-used technological genius to terra-form the planetoid quite nicely as well as build a somewhat sophisticated gravity wheel around his little world. Not one for auspicious titles or flowery monikers, he simply called his new home �Watto�s Swap and Trade�Make Your Visit Worth My Time or Go Away.� Although this new shop didn�t quite make the money his former one on Tatooine had, Watto still managed to run a tidy little business off the smugglers and degenerates who would occasionally check out his inventory for some rare or cheap spare part needed for their ships or weapons. True, he couldn�t afford to keep slaves any longer, but this didn�t upset him much. Slaves were handy yes, but somewhat expensive to house, feed, and clothe. And frankly, after learning the sad news of his former slave Shmi�s horrific death some thirty years ago, he decided that his slave-owning days were over. A cold-hearted Toydarian he may be, but a cold-hearted monster he was not.

So Watto�s day this day started the usual way: He shook himself awake out of his cot, drank himself out of his hangover with a mug of hot pepper tea, watered his oxygen-producing asigan trees with the contents of that morning�s moisture vaporator, checked the latesnthantha race results via holonet, cursed and screamed as he sent MORE money to his bookie, and flapped himself about his duralloy-constructed shop while waiting for any�ANY�potential customers. Fortunately for Watto, this day would not end in fiscal disappointment as so many of the last several dozens of days had.

There was a knock on the door. Actually, it was more like a thunderous steady pounding that caused the Toydarian to shriek like a hatchling-girl and throw an armful of various-sized droid restraining bolts toward the junk-laden ceiling. He beat his wings furiously as he gravitated toward his planetoid monitoring system and kicked the viewscreen with equal irritation. �Damn stupid piece of crap on the fritz again! Supposed to warn me when someone�s coming, stupid�agh!� He tossed his hands in frustration as he floated toward the front door. He made no move toward the door controls, but rather slid open a small peep slot and before he even got a good look at the stranger on the other side, he bellowed, �What you want?�

His glare was met by nothing more than the dark opaque tint of pilot�s goggles framed by the gray wraps of a head swath. For a split second Watto�s wings stopped beating and hmostmost fell to the ground as he thought he was staring into the face of a Tusken Raider! As he caught himself at the last moment by hooking his fingers into the slot and pulled himself up, his fears were assuaged when he heard the low, cool, gravelly voice of a human male reply, �I�m here to contract your services.�

Watto grimaced and twitched his bent snout. �Ju got an appointment?�

The stranger turned his head over his shoulder, obviously seeking out the swarm of folks clamoring for Watto the Magnificent and his wondrous skills, and finding nothing but a few trees and piles of scrap metal strewn about what could loosely be called a yard. He turned back and muttered, �Do I need one?�

The Toydarian scowled again, irritated that his bluff had been called. �What kind of service ju want? Ju need parts, or something fixed?�

�Word on the net says you can build armor.�

The elated symbols of credits danced across Watto�s mind just as irritation at the thought of months of grueling work over a hot forge knotted in his gut. �Jes, I can do that,� Watto grumbled. �What ju need? A piece or full suit?�

�Full suit.�

�Full suit, ha? Dat will be very expensive, friend.�

�Money is no object.� The stranger hissed a lightly aggravated sigh. �Are you going to let me in? Or do you normally conduct all your business through a hole in the door?�

�Dat depends. Ju armed?�

�Of course,� the stranger snorted. �I�m not going to rob you, don�t worry. I�ll make it worth your time.�

Watto hesitated for a brief moment, then pressed the OPEN button on the door.

If Watto had had any hair on the back of his neck, it would have surely been standing on end as the tall stranger glided through the door with predatory ease. The Toydarian could see no hint of a face through the stranger�s head wrap or goggles, although he held Watto firmly in his glare. Even with his dark gray mantle swathed about his shoulders and torso, Watto could see the man was powerfully built and lean, and could probably snap his neck with a mere touch. The man wore a gun belt slung low on his hips with a hand blaster strapped to his thigh. Watto could not decipher the man�s race whatsoever, for even his hands were covered with gray leather gloves.

The stranger glanced about Watto�s dilapidated shop and home, with mechanical parts of every kind piled about the floor anrnitrniture or hooked into the walls and ceiling and covered with several weeks worth of dust and grime. He folded his arms over his chest. �Nice place. Who�s your decorator?�

�Funny,� Watto scoffed in spite of his intimidation. Flapping toward a seemingly high pile of junk, Watto flung his short little arm over the top, sliding the parts off the top of what happened to be a table. He did the same to the smaller pile next to it, revealing a chair. �Have a seat, stranger.� The stranger complied, easing himself into the chair and throwing his feet on the table, crossing his ankles and never taking his goggles off the Toydarian. He reached into a satchel at his side and withdrew a short cigar, parting his face wrap just enough to stick it in his lips. Withdrawing his blaster from the holster, he adjusted a button on the side and pulled the trigger. Watto was about to shriek in terror when he saw nothing more than a tiny light blue flame come from the muzzle, with which the stranger lit his cigar. Watto sighed in relief as the stranger put out the flame and took several long, satisfied puffs.

Struggling to maintain his gruff demeanor, Watto asked, �So, what kind of armor ju got in mind, friend?�

Reaching into the satchel once again, the stranger pulled out a tiny holodisc. �I have the specs. You have a recorder?�

�Uh, jes�gimme a second.� Watto took the disc from his hand and floated over to another pile of junk. Again, he swiped his arm across the top, sending the mess in all directions, revealing an old, outdated holorecorder. He slipped the disc into the machine, switched in on, and then kicked it swiftly. The projection beam sputtered forth toward the tabletop, and a small image formed next to the stranger�s feet, turning slowly in a three-sixty radius. There stood a humanoid male fully clad in the utterly unobtainable yet infamously unmistakable armor of the ancient Mandelore�

Watto suddenly slammed his small fist into the holorecorder panel. The hologram blinked off as the Toydarian turned to the stranger and shouted, �GET OUT!�

Even if Watto couldn�t see the stranger�s face, there was no mistaking the glint of amusement in his voice. �Come again?�

�Ju heard me, get out! Ju want me to build DAT? Are you crazy? Believe me, ju ain�t de first sped who�s come in here asking for dat! Now stop wasting my time and get out!�

The stranger made absolutely no attempt to leave. On the contrary, he stretched himself even further in the chair, clasping his hands behind his head as he spoke through the stub of his cigar. �I�m afraid I don�t follow you, friend.�

�Listen, I run a clean business here, wit no worries or hassles! And de last ting I need is BOBA FETT coming after me cuz some punk-ass spjockjockey want to play dress-up��

�What are you worried about?� The stranger asked, his voice cool and steady and still laced with mild enjoyment. �Boba Fett is dead.�

�Jeah, right!� Watto snorted, throwing his tiny arms in the air. �How many times has Boba Fett been dead, huh? Twenty, thirty times? A hundred? And he always come back, ALWAYS! Bastard can�t be killed, and ju know dat! I don�t need dat kind of heat! Now get out!�

�I told you, money�s no object��

�I don�t care!� Watto shouted. �I ain�t ready to go to hell yet! Go, NOW!�

The stranger sat still for a few moments more, then shrugged. �All right, if you insist�� He pulled his legs off the table top and stood, crushing his cigar out under his boot. He started toward the door, then stopped, turning his covered head back toward Watto. �I have one more request, if you�re still interested in making some cash. So the day�s not a total loss.�

Watto scowled again, folding his arms over himself. �What?�

�I�ve been having some trouble with the anti-grav system on my ship. Mind checking it out? See if you can do anything for it?�

Watto hesitated, mulling the offer over. �OK, I�ll look at it. And then you go, right?�

�If you still want me to go, you have my word.�

�OK, let�s go.� Watto flapped to the door and opened it, and the two exited into the dark, murky thin atmosphere of Watto�s Swap and Trade. �Where you parked?�

�Half a kilometer that way.� The stranger began walking, with Watto floating behind him.

They had walked a few paces when Watto grumbled, �Jour ship didn�t show up on my alert system. Damn ting on de fritz again!�

�Your system is fine. I jammed your sensors.�

Watto furrowed his brow and wrinkled his beak. �What ju mean?�

�I have a stealth system.�

The Toydarian�s eyes widened in shock. �Ju do? What�s jour ship�s make?�

�A Kuat Firespray-31 cargo ship,� the stranger replied.

�A Firespray??�

�With a few modifications.�

Watto blew a whistle through his lip flaps as they crossed under the gravitational wheel. �Dat�s a pretty rare ship, friend. De only one I know who got a ship like dat is�� Watto�s voice trailed off, and his jaw slacked open as the stranger�s ship suddenly loomed over the planetoid�s short horizon. This time, his wings did stop flapping, and he fell to the ground to land on his bottom with a soft THUNK. He just sat there as he gawked at the Slave I.

It was then the stranger stopped and turned back to Watto. Setting his gloved hands on his hips, he asked with subdued amusement, �So, still worried about Boba Fett?�

Watto slowly turned his eyes to the stranger, his mouth still agape with absolute astonishment. It took him several moments to find his voice again. �It�s�ju? Da bounty hunter? Ju really him?�

�Appears so, doesn�t it?� He stepped back toward Watto, looming over him and folding his arms. Watto could see his own reflection in the stranger�s goggles. The humor in Boba Fett�s voice had vanished, replaced with menacing gravity. �Ready to change your mind about building that armor?�

�Uh, er, duh�� Watto stammered as he fought for his breath. Finally finding it, he launched himself of the ground, madly flapping his wingsES! ES! Jes, of course, fine sir! I would be entirely honored to serve you�Boba Fett!� He suddenly grinned and extended his hand for Fett to shake it.

�Yes, you would,� Fett replied in a low snarl, completely ignoring Watto�s gesture and striding back toward the shop.

Watto turned around and furiously beat his wings in order to catch up with the bounty hunter. Sidling up to him, the Toydarian stammered and sputtered like a repulsor engine with treacle in its tank. �Oh, but de gods must be smiling on me this day! To have DE Fett here, on my little world! See, I knew ju weren�t dead! I�m a big fan, BIG fan, sir!� He floated up into Fett�s view. �Whatever ju need, I can get it for ju! I have many connections, Watto does! What ju like? Alderaani wine? Corellian ale? Glitterspice? I can get it! Ju like girls, huh? I can get ju a girl! She may not be entirely human, but ju would like her, I bet! Anything ju want, Boba Fett, anything! Ju just name it!�

�I want you to shut up and open the door.�

�Uh, right.� Watto complied, and Fett strode through, heading back to the holorecorder and switching it on. The hologram of his father Jango reappeared on the tabletop.

�This is the armor I want. All combat systems are to be fully integrated to neuro-muscular impulses. Wrist lasers and flamethrower, grenade launchers, rocket darts, all. No switches, nothing where I need to use two hands. Learned that the hard way.� Fett gestured to the hologram�s helmet. �The helmet is the central location for all com and perception systems and is entirely voice-activated. The visor has infrared motion detectors and macrobinoculars directly installed. Sound sensors here, comlink here, and broad-band antenna implanted here.� He pointed to the armor�s back. �Dual-charge jet pack will now be installed directly into a plasteel casing, with redundant switch in the chest plate. The suit will have a sealed enviro filter with hydrating option and an oxygen capacity of four hours.� Fett turned to Watto, who sat in his chair, staring blankly at the specs before him. �Got it?�

The Toydarian ran his short arm over his sweating brow. �Master Fett, uh, sir�I�never build something dis complex before. It�well, it will take much time��

�How long?�

�Phew�seven standard months. Maybe six if I hurry��

�You have one.�

�ONE MONTH?� Watto exclaimed, jumping out of his seat and hovering about his shop. �I can�t do dis in a month! It will take up whole day, every day! I got a business to run, and customers��

�As of this moment, I�m your only customer,� Fett stated. Before Watto could retort, he threw a tiny datapad at the alien. �That�s your deposit. The rest will be paid upon completion within the time frame I gave you.�

After fumbling to catch the datapad in mid-air, Watto perused the numbers on the screen�and once again fell flat on his can in the chair. It was more money than Watto had made in the last five years. It was even more than he had gambled away. And this was just the deposit!

Still, he shook his head. �But�only one month? I can�t possibly build dese systems ju want in such a short time��

�You worry about the plating. I�ll worry about the systems. Agreed?�

Swallowing hard as to make sure his tongue was still firmly set in his beak, Watto wheezed, �It will be a pleasure doing business wit ju.�

�Yes, it will---as long as you listen carefully.� Moving toward Watto in a slow, menacing manner, he pulled the goggles up, revealing his black serpentine eyes, and bore them into the alien�s petrified orbs. �I will be residing here throughout the building process. You will completely close shop for the time I am here. And after I�m gone�youl nel never mention this to anyone for the rest of your miserable life, understood? So get those thoughts of using me as some sort of ad campaign out of your thick skull right now. If I find out you told anyone about our business relationship here� I will come back for you.� He leaned into the Toydarian�s beak and whispered, �A junk-dealing alcoholic Toydarian with a gambling problem living on an asteroid in the middle of nowhere wouldn�t exactly be missed, Watto.� Placing his hands on the arms of Watto�s chair, Fett leaned in even closer. �Don�t you agree?�

Watto was so terrified he could not utter a peep. He just sat slinked in his chair, staring up into those eyes as cold and void as space itself, and waggled his head in tight nod.

�Good,� Fett replied. Rising up, he pulled the goggles back over his black eyes. �One more thing. I�ll need to pick up supplies and components on Narddaaddaa and I don�t want to take my own ship. So you will give me full access to your shuttle at all times.�

�My shuttle? But I need dat�� Watto exclaimed. The quick shot of Fett�s head in his direction and the bounty hunter�s imposing stance convinced the Toydarian to change his tone immediately. �Uh, I mean, of course, sir. Whatever ju need.�

Fett stood there and regarded the Toydarian for a moment. The alien was so utterly terrified of him; he would probably fly around on one wing banging a pot on his head if Fett told him to. There had been a time when this show of fearful respect was what Fett would expect, even demand. But suddenly, for no tangible reason, Watto�s fear of him made Fett feel� cheap. Here he was, pushing some alien around in his own home, who was a third his size and had a tenth of his intelligence�and a being he was hiring, no less. Fett was unsure which bothered him more�what he was doing, or the fact that he actually felt BAD about it. What the hell was wrong with him? This never bothered him before�

The hunter took in a long, deep breath through his nose and blew it out. Placing his hands on his hips, he jerked his head to the side several times until he heard the satisfying crack of his neck bones. He relaxed his posture as he turned to the visibly anxious Watto. �I�ve had a long trip,� he finally said, breaking the shop�s silence. �I�m heading back to my ship to rest. I�ll come back at oh-six hundred. We�ll sit down and go over the schematics, and figure out what we�ll need to purchase moon-side.�

As Fett started toward the door, he was stopped by Watto�s raspy yet quiet voice, which asked, �Why, Master Fett?�

Fett stopped and turned. �Why what?�

�Why me?� Watto�s eyes were, for a moment, almost those of a baffled child. �You could have any armorer in de galaxy build dis for ju. Skilled people, far more skilled dan me. Why ju come to me?�

�I�ve seen some of your work. You are as skilled as any armorer out there. Besides, you said it best, Watto,� Fett said as he pushed open the door. � �No hassles, no worries�, right?� With that, he strode through.

He trudged through the loose dust of Watto�s asteroid back to his ship. Upon entering, he moved to the cockpit, eased himself into his pilot�s chair, removed his gloves, and pressed a button. He sat back and, with just a trace of an unconcious smile tugging his lip, watched a hologram of I�Lai reading a bedtime story to Kai.
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The Fett Dynasty II: Siege of Orri Prime