Author's note: Hello there! Just a few formalities…I do not own 'Star Wars,' of course. As much as I would like to say Boba Fett is my character- he's not. And that's probably a good thing. :D Hope you enjoy! Please leave a few comments…I'd like to know how I'm doing, and if there are any 'Star Wars' things I should add. Haha. Happy Reading!! ~ Captain Hilts.

Embers glowed in the darkness from the end of the cigarette. Thin trails of smoke coiled gently into the air soon after and the gambling man leaned forward, propping his elbows up on the table. He placed the greasy cards before him, revealing his hand. The surrounding colleagues all groaned in disbelief, throwing down their collections distastefully. The man smiled, slightly lifting the cigarette from his lips.

"I win again, gentleman…but I'm feeling generous tonight; what do you say to another round of drinks and one last game?"

His companions looked amongst themselves cautiously, muttering incoherent words. The man spread his hands invitingly.

"One more game, Roth," the gambler to his left grumbled, "But I am still getting the sense you cheat."

Roth laughed, sending smoke into the air. He shook his head, turning to look out across the massive lake that stretched the length of the horizon, fringed with trees. The greenish light from the moon reflected on the still surface.

"Yes," added another, "You have quite enough credits as it is."

Roth turned back to the table, feeling a cool breeze rustle his hair.

"I need to have a little fun now and again." He chuckled, "Why don't you enjoy yourselves?"

The gamblers all managed laughs, shaking their heads. Cards were shuffled once gain and another game began. Roth stabbed out the remains of his cigarette and reached for a fresh one, relishing the sharp odor of spice in his nostrils. Betting chips clattered back into place and cards repeatedly snapped. Distant laughter from other tables scattered along the veranda echoed slightly through the air. Soon the latest hand was dealt and Roth once again pondered a way to win.

As he debated the newest round of cards, thoughtfully drumming the armrests of his chair, he became aware that the laughter had faded away around them. Curiously, Roth lifted his gaze, parting his lips to speak. A new visitor had joined them, standing silently to his left. Firelight from the hanging lanterns flickered oddly across the two of them. Roth allowed himself a slight smile.

"How nice of you to join us, bounty hunter."

The gamblers seated around them fidgeted uncomfortably. One of them twitched nervously, causing a small tower of chips to spill across the table in a colorful heap.

"It is done," rasped the visitor.

Roth nodded slightly, taking the cigarette from his mouth. Gently exhaling a coil of smoke, he asked,

"Where is he?"

The bounty hunter said nothing. Instead, he tossed an object on to the table amidst the playing cards. Roth arched a dubious brow, the cigarette hovering close to his lips. With a small sigh, he tucked it into the corner of his mouth and reached for the thing presented to him. It was a small ragged leather bag tied with a string. Roth sensed the soft material inside and cautiously pulled the twine, pouring the contents into his outstretched palm.

Charcoal black ashes slipped between his fingers like sand. The surrounding gamblers gasped in disgust; Roth scowled, shaking the ashes from his hand.

"I believe you owe me," said the bounty hunter.

Roth stared up at him, into the expressionless visage of the scuffed T-visor helmet.

"If you were to kill him," he began, "this is not how I intended it."

Roth watched as their visitor shifted his weight, hands folding tightly over a slender black rifle. The men on either side of him swallowed visibly and pulled distractedly on their clothes.

"You failed to specify," rasped the armor-clad hunter, "And as unfortunate as it may be for you, it was a method that could not be avoided." He paused and tilted his head slightly. "You owe me."

Roth let out a light laugh, taking a calming drag from his cigarette. Smoke gently floated into the air and was swept away by the breeze. He looked away from the bounty hunter, once again settling his gaze on the glittering surface of the lake. Roth smiled.

"You are indeed a dangerous man, Boba Fett."

He received no reply, and Roth laughed, shaking his head.

"Yes. Avery dangerous man."

He reached beneath the table and a small black box shined dully in the greenish moonlight as Roth dropped it on the surface beside the ashes.

"Twenty-five thousand Imperial Credits. You will find it all accounted for."

Boba Fett reached with a long arm and laid his hand on the box, flicking open the latch with his thumb. He inspected the prize inside wordlessly. Roth watched as the emotionless gaze turned to him once more; Fett gave a slight nod.

"A pleasure doing business."

Roth grinned, sending out one last trail of smoke as he watched the bounty hunter pick up his reward, turning to leave. Boba Fett faded into the night and Roth never saw him again.

*******

Arbola was a strangely quiet planet. It outwardly appeared peaceful; one may find it hard to believe and Imperial garrison existed there, though it seemed almost normal for the Empire to take hold of another planet as 'quietly' as it had taken Arbola. It had been sitting off by itself too long; apparently the Empire saw that as irksome.

The air was crisp and the light from the moon was splintered through the branches of the immense trees that covered the surface. They could grow as tall as sky scrapers and their bark was the color of red clay. Together with several large lakes dotting the planet, they created a cool atmosphere and a sweet smell to the air. The stars gleamed brightly where they could be seen and wisps of clouds hung in the sky above.

Boba Fett could no longer appreciate such beauty. He walked quietly yet swiftly, crunching twigs and leaves beneath his boots. A breeze snapped at the small cape hanging from his shoulder, distorting his shadow below. His reflection followed him as he marched along the landing pad resting beside the lake.

Ahead, Slave I waited.

A slight feeling of relief came to him at the sight of the old Firespray-31-class ship, as battle-scarred as the Mandalorian armor he wore.

The latest bounty had taken much longer to acquire than anticipated; the scumbag had wanted his wicked life badly enough to attempt to kill Fett- hence the disintegration. It was the quickest way out, and often he would have preferred to bring back merchandise unharmed…but as always, he had to account for the unpredictable.

As he approached Slave I, faint voices could be heard, nearly masked by the rattling of the branches above. Fett stopped walking, his fingers curling tighter over the grip of his rifle. Two figures moved in the shadows, circling the left wing of the ship.

"Let's get outta here," came one of the voices, "It isn't worth the trouble."

"What trouble?!" the other snapped, "Do you know how much money we can get? It's completely worth it! Now where the hell-?"

"But what if he comes back and we're still here?!"

Fett waited, shifting the rifle carefully in his palms. The figures stepped from the shadow of the wing into the light. They were young men, dressed in filthy clothes and ratty boots. Their hair was long and matted; stubble covered their faces. They were dangerously close to his ship, so close in fact that one of them could lay a dirty hand on the armor.

But Fett waited. He let out a slight sigh and listened to them again.

"I want to get out of here. Do you even know whose ship that is? He'll kill us!"

It was in that moment the men noticed him. Their eyes widened in fear and their mouths fell open to form words that refused to come. Fett almost smiled.

"Uh…we were just leaving, sir," one stammered, "A little lost…we're a little lost…uhm. We'll just be on our way."

Boba Fett watched them scamper away like frightened animals, throwing terrified glances over their shoulders. Once they had disappeared, he started toward his ship, hitting a button on his wrist gauntlet to disable the security systems and open the cargo hold. He stepped up the ramp into the ship and closed it behind him, heading for the cockpit. After securing his rifle in its usual place and climbing up a small ladder, he slid into the pilot's seat and the control panel lit up before him as his fingers danced across the keyboard. The ship gave a small jump as the engines growled to life; Fett gripped the controls and guided Slave I up into the sky. He leaned back in the seat as the ship tilted upright, flicking a few switches as it went. Tree branches brushed at the wings as the ship ascended; once free of their towering leaves, the viewport was filled with a navy blue sky peppered with stars and lit softly by the greenish moon. Slave I abruptly lurched forward with a push from its powerful booster engines and was soon rocketing its way back through the atmosphere of Arbola.

Once into the infinite quiet of space, Fett turned the ship toward a distant star, punching a few coordinates into the hyperdrive. With a single flick of a switch, the stars blurred through the viewport and the ship lurched forward abruptly yet again as it adjusted to light speed. Fett listened to the usual sounds of his ship and sighed, feeling a dull pain in both his shoulders. The latest bounty had done more than drain his time- it had also sapped his energy. Watching the scene through the viewport for a moment, he decided to take this opportunity to rest. Hyperspace, in effect, was the only place he could allow himself proper recuperation. Boba Fett leaned further back into his seat and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

*******

He awoke to find Slave I still on its course in hyperspace, slightly puzzled as to why he'd been unwillingly brought from sleep. After tapping a few keys, the computer revealed all systems to be functioning correctly; a quick scan of the exterior showed no trackers or peculiar markings had been placed on the hull. And yet…something wasn't right.

A distant noise caused him to pause at the control board. He turned to look over his shoulder, listening. It was not a noise he was used to hearing, however faint it had been. Something was where it did not belong. Quietly, Boba Fett slid from the pilot's chair and made his way back down through the ship, palming a blaster as he went. The digital displays on the inside of his helmet continued to scroll through the ship's systems, scanning for any irregularity. Fett did notice something slight; the fuel consumption was a bit higher than normal, though that could have been due to a number of factors.

A faint shadow played across the walls ahead; he sensed the movement rather than saw it. Quickening his pace though remaining relatively silent, Fett made his way through the narrow hallways toward the source of the movement. He found himself staring at Slave I's interior cooling system, the thick coils twitching as they adjusted to the intake of air from the engines. The faint sound came yet again; he fell to one knee almost instantly, his hand reaching beneath the coils and pipes. A muffled squeal came to his ears as his fingers snatched cloth and pulled. Fett shoved the blaster into the intruder's face. His finger flexed around the trigger, but a shriek stopped him from following through with the shot.

It was a child.

"Don't shoot!"

Fett had grabbed a fistful of tunic and a few strands of hair; the barrel of his blaster was mere inches from the end of the child's nose. She gazed up at him with pleading eyes. Fett stared back at her, feeling a rare sense of surprise at what he was seeing. The girl watched him with wide eyes, her hand gripping his wrist as he held her awkwardly. The blaster was still pointed in her face. It took him a full minute to decide upon something to say.

"Why are you on my ship?" he growled.

"Hiding," the girl replied in a trembling voice.

Fett rose to his feet. The stowaway winced as he lifted her from the floor, dust floating down from the ends of her flyaway hair. Her breaths had quickened slightly as he adjusted his grip; she was scrawny in size and Fett could pick her up from her feet effortlessly. A small satchel swung strangely from her shoulder.

"You aren't going to hurt me…right?"

Fett holstered his blaster, moving to lift the girl under his arm like a package. She whined, kicking her legs.

"I can walk, put me down!"

She struggled a bit longer, and succeeded only in tiring herself. Fett let her slip slightly and she yelped, arms now dangling close to the floor. Her voice was muffled slightly once she spoke, her eyes following his boots as he marched along the ship.

"Where are you going? You're hurting me!"

Fett remained silent, trudging down the ladder leading back to the cargo hold. Ignoring the stowaway's squeak of pain as her head hit against the last rung, he walked calmly ahead, only slightly adjusting to her weight. Lights flickered on automatically above; Fett strode up to the lines of cages reserved for the 'merchandise' he often shuttled from one client to the next, punching in a passcode on a nearby console. The child realized where they were and began to squirm as the barred door swung open.

"No, please don't put me in there! I'll be good, I swear! I'm not trying to cause any trouble!!"

Fett was surprised at her speed as she flailed around in his grasp, nearly dropping her on the floor. She hammered her fists against his shins and kicked her legs several times before he dropped her into the cage and slammed the door closed behind her. The stowaway spun around and gripped a bar with one hand, the other clenched in a tight fist.

"Let me out of here! Please! I didn't mean to make you mad…"

For a moment they stared at each other. Fett was secretly taken aback at the fact she had made it aboard; all of the security systems he equipped Slave I normally detected intruders before they came anywhere near it. The fact that this child had infiltrated his ship greatly disturbed him. There had to be a reason behind it; it could not have been by his fault. Of course, anger had also crept its way into awareness and flared every time he looked down at the dirty child. She shook the bars in an attempt to get his attention.

"Why won't you talk to me, Mr. Fett?!"

She gazed up at him through strands of reddish-blonde hair, which had fallen out in large pieces from her small ponytail. her knuckles white as she gripped the cage. He finally spoke.

"We are too far from Arbola for me to turn back; it would waste too much time to do so. You will remain here until I decide what to do with you. Is that understood?"

The child blinked up at him, her eyes shining oddly bright as she took in this information.

"But…this isn't fair!"

Fett leaned forward. The girl shrank back slightly, but still hung on to the bars.

"You should consider yourself lucky I didn't pull the trigger."

She frowned at him, backing away. Fett stalked away from the cage and she gazed after him in silent aggravation. Once back to the cock pit, he slid into the pilot's seat, seething. Punching a few buttons on the control panel, Fett watched as several schematics and words flashed over the smooth surface of the viewport. The computer beeped after scanning for any breach in the security systems and to his irritation, nothing revealed how the stowaway had come aboard. Fett had never once dealt with this particular problem.

And now a child stood in the one of the cells in Slave I's cargo hold.

Boba Fett leaned forward, resting his chin thoughtfully on his fist as he watched the stars streak past the viewport in white blurs. It was going to be an interesting couple of days.