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Part Time Job	By : dschinny Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 7157 -:- 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
- 5
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Chapter 6 - A favour is an investment. (day 3)
The next morning, Tomoe was shaken awake by a large paw on her shoulder. As soon as she lifted her head, a horrible headache hit her like a punch. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat when a bottle of water was pressed against her lips. She coughed and tried to push away, her sore jaws torturing her in unison with a hundred other bruises. The paw patted her head, withdrew and returned with a towel to wipe up the spilled fluid.
“Get her ready for the auction.” The Twilek barked from his stand in the hall’s centre. The Wookie growled softly and passed her the water as soon as she could kneel on her own. He had to get to the fresher and find some breakfast. Meanwhile, his partner reviewed the merchandise, pulling her to her feet roughly. “The damn mark is still visible... I won’t get a second bid on that one....” he mused, but pushed her into the line to the fresher and told the girls to clean themselves or else! Then he tied the slaves for the auction to one long chain and had the Wookie drag them out into the cold morning light. The chain was locked to a ring in the wall of a small round theatre. An audience was gathering slowly.
Tomoe sat down shivering between the other slaves when a shadow fell on her. The Wookie was swatting over her, waving a piece of raw meat in front of her face. She bent over, trying to hide her dry-heaving under a deep bow. He whooped questionably, looked at her once more, and then decided to finish the morsel himself. Still chewing, he caught a glimpse at the angry dark mark on her back and smoothed her hair over it. Then he had to follow his partner’s call.
Trying to preserve some body heat in the cold morning breeze, Tomoe curled up into a tight ball until she was pulled up and pushed onto a stage. “2500.” The starting bid came from yesterday’s sleazy tormentor, accompanied by the whistles and calls of the brothel owners guards “Move it!” she stiffened, took a step out of the auctioneer’s reach and turned around, sending her hair flying over her shoulder.
The auctioneer watched his share grow by the first “Ohh...” of the audience at the bold move, and then suddenly falter as nobody else dared to enter a bid at the sight of the ancient Mandalorian battle sign. The brothel owner’s was looking for a bargain “Call it.” Some exotic markings would add to his infamous ménage. “2500 going once, going...”
“2600” a gravelly voice squished the hopes of both. On the outside, nothing betrayed Jangos triumph at his coveted woman’s display of cooperation.
The sleazy brothel owner shook his head as he saw who he was bidding against. He was professional enough to know when it was wiser to look for a bargain elsewhere. “2600 going once, going twice, going trice. //bang// Sold to the armored mister in the back... Next bidding is for....”
Tomoe was moved off stage by a helper quickly, “Come and claim your prize,” he motioned the mercenary over, and the assistant completed the financial transaction and ownership certificate. “Here’s our leaflet... the practical stun-collar is extra, for implants....”
“Take it off,” cutting any further advice short, Fett stepped in front of his acquisition. “Hands over your head,” he retrieved a thin thermal plastifoil survival blanket from a pocket and wrapped it tightly around her from chest to toes. “Hold that,” he commanded her and watched the assistant remove the slave-collar from her neck. “Move it,” he steered her outside of the small arena.
Tomoe clutched the blanket to her chest tightly and tried to match his long strides with the tiny quick steps the blanket allowed. By the time they reached the spaceport, she couldn’t feel her feet anymore. ‘So many ships... so many destinations... but no indication of my home planet’s colors or symbols,’ she thought, her neck craning to avoid the beak of the mercenary’s ship looming over her.
She didn’t try to run this time, Jango noted with some satisfaction, one eye on the 360° display inside the helmet while flipping through the ‘new holder’s advice and manual’ on another display of his HUD. He wasn’t exactly ‘new’ to the game, just to this side of it. It didn’t look like further violence was needed to subdue her. The return of the circulation into her pale hands and feet would be quite enough to put her down a notch.
Fett led her inside the Slave I and into the cargo area. He backed her against the cage he had prepared with a bed-roll and some supplies for her accommodation last night. “Clean up and tend to your bruises, eat, drink, then rest until I come for you.” he examined her jaws and ran a gloved thump over her bluish lips “still mute?”
“I’ll... thank you.” She breathed trough clattering teeth and shrunk away from the shimmering helmet approaching her face.
She would carve his body heat soon enough. But so far there was no weeping, no contradictions, no useless questions... well, she had to learn one more point: “It is master from now on,” he reminded her.
She had no energy left in her for petty arguments. “Thank you, Master Fett.” Tomoe stepped into the cage and kneeled down in front of a med-kit, popping the lid just to spot another problem while her capturer locked the cage and faced the cockpit ladder. “Master Fett, could you please ask Boba to help me read... this?” she lifted the kit slightly.
Fett frowned and climbed on wordlessly. In the cockpit, he met Boba’s questioning gaze. “I got her. Let’s go home.” Fett ran the starting procedure, lifted the Slave I out of the dustbowl’s gravity well and plotted a course to Kamino. “You can go aft once we entered hyperspace. You are allowed to question her and answer about things that are within the cage, but stay out of her reach.”
Boba smiled and watched his father pulling back the hyperspace lever, “Sure, dad.” He un-strapped and swung down the ladder, his hands screeching on the metal rail before his feet touched the ground. “Hey, Tomoe.”
The heap of plastifoil sheet rustled when she turned and pulled the thermal blanket closer around her. “Hey, Boba ...thanks for coming.” She placed a damp cloth aside and moved to the medkit. “I have found bandages, but I have difficulties to locate a disinfectant, glucose and a strong cleaning fluid. I don’t want to mistake anything.”
“Let me see... the disinfectant is the second bottle on left, the glucose...” He shook his head “Why?... Can’t you read?”
“Thanks,” she picked the bottle and turned her side to him to continue treatment. “Yes, since I learned reading and writing in another language. It covered my basic skills so far.”
“Everybody can read aurabesh.”
“I’m looking forward to learn aurabesh, if you like to teach me.”
“Sure.” Boba squatted, rested his chin on his palm and watched curiously. A moment ago, he had been convinced that adults knew everything ... those who weren’t bounties or jerks at least. He spotted a collection of bluish bruises on her shoulder and forearms “You look terrible.”
“Why, thank you,” she chuckled, moved the glucose pellet from one cheek into the other and pulled a bandage around her wrist tight with a free hand and teeth. “Could you spot the cleansing fluid?”
“Because...” he wrinkled his forehead and stopped, “The disinfectant should do. Dad uses bacta-spray or -patches for deeper wounds.”
“What is this ‘bacta’?”
“The green stuff. There are bacteria within that seek out wounds and help to regenerate tissue. It won’t leave scars but,’ he wrinkled his nose “it smells.”
“Bacteria? ...I think I can do without.” She turned her back to him and lowered the blanket, uncovering the red mark on her back. “I’m looking for a dissolvent to remove this.”
Boba studied the bright red Mythosaur skull that was staring back at him, drawing live with every breath she took. In his eyes, it was beautiful. “Don’t you like the sigil of Mandalore?”
Tomoe bought time by rearranging the blanket around her shoulders. She should have considered removing the mark could be seen as an insult. “What is ‘Mandalore’?”
Boba fell silent. He had said too much. She was asking too many questions and he was pretty sure that this one wasn’t covered by the exception ‘inside the cage’. “Ask dad.” He snapped.
“I will.” she tilted her head “If you describe it to me, I can try to imagine it and make up my mind. You know... I’m not used to wear something on my skin permanently”, ‘like a criminal’, she thought by herself. “Of course, everything I wear has a meaning. It’s a way to cherish season, nature and tradition. Like life itself the signs change all the time.”
“The kyr'bes is a skull of a big, ferocious animal. It has a looong tradition, as well. But it’s dead, so you don’t have to change it all the time. Practical, huh?” Boba beamed.
“Practical boy,” she managed to smile back, “do you mind if I lay down for a while?”
He made a face. “Why do adults always sleep?”
“I don’t know about other ‘adults’ you have met, but I’m tired because yesterday was stressful and didn’t sleep well last night. Therefore I heed to your father’s advice to rest.” She tried to answer on the point. ‘Was he really suffering such a lack of respectable company?’
“I see... Aren’t you hungry?” he offered, pointing his chin at a ration-bar.
“I doubt that I can chew already. Your father knows when to wake me. I hope we can continue our chat later.” She bowed lightly.
“See ya, Tomoe.” He climbed the ladder into the cockpit.
She slipped into the bedroll and pulled the thermal blanket over her feet for additional warmth. ‘Rest,’ Tomoe told herself, ‘heal.’ She stared at the metal ceiling, listening to the blubbering engine that filled the silence. ‘There’s nothing to do.’ – ‘There is a lot to do! Get out of here. Make him take you home.’ – ‘There is nothing to do right now.’ – ‘Protest.’ – ‘He won’t listen.’ – ‘Do you like it? Put up a fight!’ – ‘Did that before.’ – ‘A honorable person would kill him or die trying’ – ‘He is the driver, he is not around and I’m tired.’ – ‘Get out if you are tired of it.’ – ‘Silence.’
She closed her eyes, calmed her breath and imagined ...a ripple on water... a lake within the mountains... golden autumn leaves covering the slopes... a meadow covered by billowing mist... then sleep won.

Clanking footfalls woke her. She reached for the thin thermal blanket, wrapped it around herself and rolled to her feet.
“You don’t need that,” the mercenary was still in his armor, minus helmet and weapons - as far as she could see. Some folded clothing items were draped over his arm, “Drop the blanket.”
“I am not your property, Master Fett,” she reminded him gently and managed to make the title sound like a craftsman’s.
“You are my slave and you do as I tell. Drop it.”
“I’m a person. My dignity is inviolable. You have neither right nor reason to imprison me.”
“Your idea, your fault. My ship, my rules,” he smirked. “Plus I got the papers to prove it to the outsiders...”
“You got me into this in first place,” ...hijacked and blamed her and cut off her chance to defend herself.
“You got yourself into this. Consider it as a long-time appointment if you like that better. Now you drop that blanket and let me sample my treasure. Afterwards, you can get dressed in real clothing.” Fett punched in the opening code.
Tomoe pushed the bedroll aside with a kick of her heel, freeing space to put up a fight. “What do you want from me?”
While he had made it clear enough, she apparently didn’t consider where her pathetic move could get her within an instant... or she didn’t care. “What do you want for yourself?” Fett retorted and threw the door open.
“Home and a bath.”
He nearly laughed out loud. If she wasn’t desperate for a deal, she would have attacked the moment ago instead of talking. But if it eased her mind, she could have a deal instead of instant violence. For a bounty hunter that meant pretty much the same. “Complete satisfaction for a change of course,” he offered, looking for the end of the blanket which she was jealously guarding. Two could play this game.
Tomoe considered briefly. “I’ll do my best. Come in, please... and sit.” she returned to her placating self within an instant, smoothed the padding of the makeshift bed invitingly, then knelt at his feet to undo his armored boots, clasp by clasp and an efficient tug. He went to unlatch the body armor as well. “Thank you...” she stopped him with a wink of her palm “Please, rest.” She set the boots down neatly and retrieved a towel to drape it over his feet.
“You’ve got 50 minutes,” he informed her bluntly.
“I’ll make them worth your while.” She smiled and started rubbing a foot gently, exploring his soles for the right spots. He leaned back, rested his head on an elbow and had a good look at her cleavage. Certainly, he could enjoy the steady rhythm of her fingertips for hours; she would find his sexual stamina undiminished once her time was up. She steadied her breath and her movement, concentrating the pressure on certain spots. “Just relax,” her hum blended in with the throbbing engine.

It felt like seconds later when she stopped gently, rested her palms in her lap and lifted her gaze. “Master Fett... It’s time to raise and change course.”
Jango propped himself up on an elbow “You call that satisfied?” his dark eyes bore into her “I haven’t even started yet.”
“I see you are well rested. You had no wishes left a moment ago... when you were sound asleep.”
‘A blackout? Impossible!’ his wide gaze swung over to the opening of the cage, “From boredom...” he snarled and nestled at his cod piece. “Come here. Give me satisfaction. Try to ride home…”
“Sore and soiled is no satisfaction.” Her voice was low and dry like autumn leaves when she withdrew and wiped her hands on a towel.
“I could make you.”
“...and enjoy the process more than the result ...but still find no satisfaction.” She briskly pushed his boots behind her, guarding them. “While I have nothing to lose, you can’t risk a slip. You are the pilot.”
He regarded the fluid on his soles, then her. “You are too clever for your own good ...and you stink like a wet Wookie pelt.” Fett got to his feet just when the alarm went off. Fine. “My boots, slave, we arrived.” At least she passed him his boots demurely enough. He put them on and kicked the cage-door shut behind him.
Again, she was stuck without options and clothing. The ship’s surge slammed her against the bars of the cage then the sound of the engine changed. They were approaching something, the g-forces of the maneuver partly wiped by dampers, a whizzing of servos, soft bumps on metal, shut-down of engines. Just before a claustrophobic attack hit, everything shut down into a deafening silence, interrupted by the cracking of cooling structures every now and then.
A fully armed and armored Fett left through the main hatch, a draft of cool moist air entering instead.
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Part Time Job

Chapter 6 - A favour is an investment. (day 3)