Disclaimer: Boba Fett, Hutts, Twi'leks, the New Republic and basically the
whole setting for this story all belong to someone else, namely the great
one George Lucas. I am not writing this story with any intent to profit
financially or in any other material way, or in any other way infringe or
impose on Mr. Lucas, his copyright, or anything else that may impede the
smooth process of his writing & directing of Episode III.
Turnabout
Deep in the dungeons of Elbo the Hutt, Boba Fett strained at the metal cuffs that bound his wrists and ankles securely. Id Radoona, Elbo's Twi'lek torturer, smiled down at him. "Don't worry," the repulsive creature said. "Elbo will come back in the morning. And then we'll begin the real torture." He ran his hand down Fett's stomach, his fingers dipping lightly, to stroke the insides of the parallel cuts.
Fett didn't trust himself to reply. He kept his eyes locked on the stone ceiling, concentrated on his breathing.
Id Radoona dug his fingers into the sides of the deepest wound, and Fett sucked in an agonized breath. White spangles burst into his vision. Radoona merely chuckled, and walked away. Fett heard the door open, and then clang shut.
Fett slumped against the rock slab. It would be, he knew, his dissection table. While he was still alive—and screaming.
He had no illusions that any amount of self-control would be sufficient for the days ahead.
He didn't want to die like this, entertainment for a Hutt. But at the moment, he couldn't think of any other options. Couldn't think of much at all, past the pain.
Radoona had said that tomorrow would be the "real torture." As if the long afternoon since he'd walked into Elbo's trap had been merely a warm-up.
He'd been a fool, to have let his attention waver for that one moment. He could still see it in his mind's eye; Elbo had offered him cash. He'd bent to pick up the case, and not noticed the heavy-gage needle secreted within the handle. Though he still didn't know what imagined slight had pushed Elbo over the edge, into this…
The sound of the cell door easing open caught his attention. He turned his head, expecting to see Radoona again. But instead, it was…a dancing girl? He vaguely remembered seeing her in Elbo's throne room.
She moved to his side, and now he got a better look at her. Pale skin, red hair, vivid green eyes. Dressed in a green velvet outfit that matched her eyes, and left very little of her body to the imagination.
"Who…are you?"
"My name is Merisu," she whispered. "I've come to rescue you."
He might have laughed, at that. Except that it would hurt far, far too much.
She was already moving, her hands on the nearest cuff, picking the lock. In only a few moments, she had it undone, and moved on to the next one.
He was free in less than a minute, and Merisu helped him to sit up. "Do you think you can walk?"
"Yes."
She helped him to his feet. He gasped as the slashed-open soles of his feet came down on the rough floor. His eyes rolled, and he leaned against the stone slab, his hands in a pool of his own blood. Merisu was gone—but then he saw her, stuffing his famous Mandalorian armor and helmet into a duffel bag. She slung it over her shoulder, and then came back for him. She put her free arm around his waist, and helped him to hobble out of the cell, and down the corridor.
He saw a pair of Gammoreans slumped on the floor, covered with blood. Their throats had been slashed.
Merisu's work? Just what kind of a dancing girl was she?
She had a speeder waiting, just outside the rear door. Fett let her ease him down into the speeder, and leaned back, conserving his strength. She tucked a blanket around him. He barely felt it, when the speeder lifted, and began racing through the night.
He might have dozed off, dizzy and weak as he was from blood loss. In any case, it didn't seem to take long to reach a ship. He couldn't see much of it, just a shape in the dark. The speeder roared up a ramp, and into a well-lit area. He heard the clang of a metal door closing.
"You're safe, now."
"Why…?" He opened his eyes, and looked at her. The long red locks were gone, replaced by medium-brown hair, cropped close.
She didn't answer, but went to get a medical kit. She pulled out a pre-loaded syringe. He frowned at it, the pain he was in warring with the fear of being helpless. "What…I don't…"
"Nerve blocker, that's all." She held it up, so that Fett could see the label. "Knocks out the pain, without knocking you out."
Pain won out. "Please," he whispered.
She injected the medicine into his arm. Soon, he felt a soothing numbness spread throughout his body. He closed his eyes for a moment, and only opened them when she started to move him again. This time, to a soft bed. She cleaned out the wounds, and then wrapped his feet and stomach in portable bacta packs. Then she put a clean blanket over him.
"How can I…ever repay you?" Because certainly, repayment would be necessary, in one form or another. Though maybe he shouldn't be entering negotiations until he was better able to protect his own interests?
She smiled down at him, and traced the edge of his lips with one fingertip. "Don't worry. I'm sure an opportunity will present itself."
So that's what it was. Except…he couldn't escape the feeling that he was missing something. He was still dizzy from blood loss, shock. He couldn't think…
He must have dozed off. When he opened his eyes again, he found that Merisu had changed once again. Her bright green eyes were now merely hazel—she must have been wearing lenses. More disguise. Her skin was also darker.
Not a dancing girl.
He had to struggle to keep his eyes open, now. He was tired, so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep.
"Wait here. I'm going to get us off this dustball."
A minute or so later, he felt the shudder, as the engines kicked in. They were lifting off, heading for space. And not too much later, he heard footsteps.
He managed to open his eyes again. Instead of the dark green costume, Merisu wore a set of dark gray coveralls. She barely looked like the same person who'd rescued him. If he hadn't seen the transformation a bit at a time, he would have though she was a stranger.
She certainly didn't look anything at all like a dancing girl, now. More like a smuggler, maybe, or…
He was finding it harder and harder to think. To do anything. "Where…going?" he asked, in a voice that like it was coming from the bottom of a deep pit.
"As far away from here as we can."
"Good. But…where."
"Somewhere safe."
"Don't think…anywhere…"
"We're going into New Republic space."
"No…"
She sat down beside him, started stroking his cheek. "Shh, listen. They've got laws against what the Hutts do. They also don't believe in summary executions."
"Hmm…" His head felt thick. Was it only blood loss? Or had she pre- loaded something else, something more powerful, in the syringe? "You drugged me," he whispered. "Why?"
"You don't do much work for the Repubs, do you?" she asked. "Probably not worth your while."
"No."
"I mean, their really big bounties are few and far between. And anyway, they usually require live capture, so that they can give their criminals a fair trial."
His eyes flew open then, comprehension suddenly, belatedly, dawning. But whatever drug she'd given him was stronger even than self-preservation. He slumped back, against the bed.
The last thing he felt, before he succumbed to that blissfully dangerous sleep, was an almost…comradely pat on the arm. The last thing he heard was Merisu's voice, now stripped of a dancing girl's seductive wiles.
"Don't worry, Fett—I'm going to take good care of you." There was nothing but business in her voice now. "You're no good to me dead."
Turnabout
Deep in the dungeons of Elbo the Hutt, Boba Fett strained at the metal cuffs that bound his wrists and ankles securely. Id Radoona, Elbo's Twi'lek torturer, smiled down at him. "Don't worry," the repulsive creature said. "Elbo will come back in the morning. And then we'll begin the real torture." He ran his hand down Fett's stomach, his fingers dipping lightly, to stroke the insides of the parallel cuts.
Fett didn't trust himself to reply. He kept his eyes locked on the stone ceiling, concentrated on his breathing.
Id Radoona dug his fingers into the sides of the deepest wound, and Fett sucked in an agonized breath. White spangles burst into his vision. Radoona merely chuckled, and walked away. Fett heard the door open, and then clang shut.
Fett slumped against the rock slab. It would be, he knew, his dissection table. While he was still alive—and screaming.
He had no illusions that any amount of self-control would be sufficient for the days ahead.
He didn't want to die like this, entertainment for a Hutt. But at the moment, he couldn't think of any other options. Couldn't think of much at all, past the pain.
Radoona had said that tomorrow would be the "real torture." As if the long afternoon since he'd walked into Elbo's trap had been merely a warm-up.
He'd been a fool, to have let his attention waver for that one moment. He could still see it in his mind's eye; Elbo had offered him cash. He'd bent to pick up the case, and not noticed the heavy-gage needle secreted within the handle. Though he still didn't know what imagined slight had pushed Elbo over the edge, into this…
The sound of the cell door easing open caught his attention. He turned his head, expecting to see Radoona again. But instead, it was…a dancing girl? He vaguely remembered seeing her in Elbo's throne room.
She moved to his side, and now he got a better look at her. Pale skin, red hair, vivid green eyes. Dressed in a green velvet outfit that matched her eyes, and left very little of her body to the imagination.
"Who…are you?"
"My name is Merisu," she whispered. "I've come to rescue you."
He might have laughed, at that. Except that it would hurt far, far too much.
She was already moving, her hands on the nearest cuff, picking the lock. In only a few moments, she had it undone, and moved on to the next one.
He was free in less than a minute, and Merisu helped him to sit up. "Do you think you can walk?"
"Yes."
She helped him to his feet. He gasped as the slashed-open soles of his feet came down on the rough floor. His eyes rolled, and he leaned against the stone slab, his hands in a pool of his own blood. Merisu was gone—but then he saw her, stuffing his famous Mandalorian armor and helmet into a duffel bag. She slung it over her shoulder, and then came back for him. She put her free arm around his waist, and helped him to hobble out of the cell, and down the corridor.
He saw a pair of Gammoreans slumped on the floor, covered with blood. Their throats had been slashed.
Merisu's work? Just what kind of a dancing girl was she?
She had a speeder waiting, just outside the rear door. Fett let her ease him down into the speeder, and leaned back, conserving his strength. She tucked a blanket around him. He barely felt it, when the speeder lifted, and began racing through the night.
He might have dozed off, dizzy and weak as he was from blood loss. In any case, it didn't seem to take long to reach a ship. He couldn't see much of it, just a shape in the dark. The speeder roared up a ramp, and into a well-lit area. He heard the clang of a metal door closing.
"You're safe, now."
"Why…?" He opened his eyes, and looked at her. The long red locks were gone, replaced by medium-brown hair, cropped close.
She didn't answer, but went to get a medical kit. She pulled out a pre-loaded syringe. He frowned at it, the pain he was in warring with the fear of being helpless. "What…I don't…"
"Nerve blocker, that's all." She held it up, so that Fett could see the label. "Knocks out the pain, without knocking you out."
Pain won out. "Please," he whispered.
She injected the medicine into his arm. Soon, he felt a soothing numbness spread throughout his body. He closed his eyes for a moment, and only opened them when she started to move him again. This time, to a soft bed. She cleaned out the wounds, and then wrapped his feet and stomach in portable bacta packs. Then she put a clean blanket over him.
"How can I…ever repay you?" Because certainly, repayment would be necessary, in one form or another. Though maybe he shouldn't be entering negotiations until he was better able to protect his own interests?
She smiled down at him, and traced the edge of his lips with one fingertip. "Don't worry. I'm sure an opportunity will present itself."
So that's what it was. Except…he couldn't escape the feeling that he was missing something. He was still dizzy from blood loss, shock. He couldn't think…
He must have dozed off. When he opened his eyes again, he found that Merisu had changed once again. Her bright green eyes were now merely hazel—she must have been wearing lenses. More disguise. Her skin was also darker.
Not a dancing girl.
He had to struggle to keep his eyes open, now. He was tired, so tired. All he wanted to do was sleep.
"Wait here. I'm going to get us off this dustball."
A minute or so later, he felt the shudder, as the engines kicked in. They were lifting off, heading for space. And not too much later, he heard footsteps.
He managed to open his eyes again. Instead of the dark green costume, Merisu wore a set of dark gray coveralls. She barely looked like the same person who'd rescued him. If he hadn't seen the transformation a bit at a time, he would have though she was a stranger.
She certainly didn't look anything at all like a dancing girl, now. More like a smuggler, maybe, or…
He was finding it harder and harder to think. To do anything. "Where…going?" he asked, in a voice that like it was coming from the bottom of a deep pit.
"As far away from here as we can."
"Good. But…where."
"Somewhere safe."
"Don't think…anywhere…"
"We're going into New Republic space."
"No…"
She sat down beside him, started stroking his cheek. "Shh, listen. They've got laws against what the Hutts do. They also don't believe in summary executions."
"Hmm…" His head felt thick. Was it only blood loss? Or had she pre- loaded something else, something more powerful, in the syringe? "You drugged me," he whispered. "Why?"
"You don't do much work for the Repubs, do you?" she asked. "Probably not worth your while."
"No."
"I mean, their really big bounties are few and far between. And anyway, they usually require live capture, so that they can give their criminals a fair trial."
His eyes flew open then, comprehension suddenly, belatedly, dawning. But whatever drug she'd given him was stronger even than self-preservation. He slumped back, against the bed.
The last thing he felt, before he succumbed to that blissfully dangerous sleep, was an almost…comradely pat on the arm. The last thing he heard was Merisu's voice, now stripped of a dancing girl's seductive wiles.
"Don't worry, Fett—I'm going to take good care of you." There was nothing but business in her voice now. "You're no good to me dead."