Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm just playing. I'll put'em back when I'm done.

Rating: PG

Synopsis: Revenge is a dish best served cold and Boba Fett is out for revenge.

There is nothing as silent as a desert at night. There seems to be nothing but the sand and the stars and, most surprising, the cold, when the local sun has set. The chill rises after the warmth of the day has left the sand.

So it was on Tatooine as on any other desert world in the galaxy. Tatooine had very little to offer, yet it harbored life forms that had grown from the sand. Sarlaccs were part of those life forms. Being, in terms, sandworms of immense proportions, they could have caused havoc among those humans and non-humans, who for some incomprehensible reason saw Tatooine fit to live on. But, due to their stationary course of life, the threat the sarlaccs posed was more one of meaning certain doom to the incautious rather than generating fear in the cities of the desert world. The most famous of these creatures, which had chosen to take up residence near the late Jabba the Hutt's palace, had experienced a period of starvation. Since the death of the great Hutt, the Sarlacc had not received its monthly portion of victims and, despite the fact that the Sarlacc was a rather dumb creature, it was contemplating on leaving its resting place and moving closer to the action. Sarlaccs did not move if they could avoid it, but the lack of food could force even the greatest of them to leave its previously very fulfilling life behind and move on to other things.

When the sun finally rose after that night, the only sign of the Sarlacc's former presents was a slight dent in the sand that would soon disappear. One of the many human inhabitants of Tatooine was there that morning, eyeing the dent with slight concern. When a Sarlacc chose to move, it was always nice to know where it would turn up again. Clad in a worn, black robe, the hood pulled down over the face, the woman named Borka moved closer to the dent, having spotted something the mighty Sarlacc had left behind. She squatted down and wiped the sand away from the shiny object. She frowned and brushed a little more sand away. It took a moment for her to realize, that she was looking at the arm of what she expected to be a droid. The Sarlacc had very little taste for metal and had been known to disgorge people, if they were clad in armor. She freed the droid from its sandy grave, hoping to be able to scavenge it for parts. But, as she turned it over, she instantly realized her mistake. This was no droid. There was fleshy soft tissue of the arm that she was holding up, and to her immediate surprise, whoever hid under the dented mask had to be human or at least humanoid. Carefully, she removed the mask and spent a moment looking at the scarred face underneath. The man had almost no hair and a scare as wide as her thumb ran from the top of his scull across his face and vanished under the neck of his body armor. She considered the situation for a moment, then put his helmet back on. With an effort, she managed to load the man over her shoulder and carry him back to her battered, old landspeeder. She loaded him onto it and tied him down, wondering if she should take him back to Anchorhead. Shaking her head, she decided to take him up into the deserted palace instead. It was closer and nobody would try to take the honor for saving his life there.


The silence of the great hall was not something that bothered Borka. Ever since the Hutt had died at the hands of those rebels, Borka had now and then used the abandoned palace as a hideout. She was considered strange by those who knew her and nobody would be surprised if they knew where she was.

There was a stench in the air, that emanated from the large grating in the floor. Borka, who never really paid attention to any kind of smell, hardly noticed it. She had investigated the stench the first time she had entered the palace and had found the source of it. The rotting corpse of a Rancor was lying in its lair below.

She carried her involuntary guest into the great hall and put him down on the throne. Then she pulled back the hood of her cape and looked around the hall, a constant half-smile on her lips. Borka was a little crazy, but not enough for anybody to want to put her away. She never did anybody any harm and she always helped out when it was needed. She just didn't get along with other people that well. Searching through the great hall and an adjoining room, she found a few blankets and a carpet, that would do as a mattress. There was a sudden sound and she turned to see what it was. Some kind of critter was sitting on a ledge, watching her with the big eyes of a nightcrawler. Borka chuckled at the sight of it and returned to what she was doing.


A few days later, her guest finally came around. She had freed him from his armor and had even had the sense to wash most of the dust and sand away. She had fed him and attended to his wounds, always eager to please. She was squatting a few feet away from him, watching him as he slowly came to. He moved his head a little and grumbled something, then opened his eyes. Scanning the room, it took him no time to realize where he was. He sat up slowly, his eyes searching the room and finally coming to rest on Borka. Not really feeling up to talking yet, he simply just looked at her. Borka, who didn't like it when people stared, rose and came closer.

"You okay?" she asked, still smiling.

The man just looked at her, one corner of his mouth twisted into a constant sneer by the scar. His blue eyes were relentless and Borka started having second thoughts about saving him. "What am I doing here?" he wanted to know, again looking around the hall.

"The Sarlacc didn't like ye'. He spat ye' out and moved away," Borka explained, handing him a cup of water.

He downed it and threw the cup away, shattering it against the hard floor of the throne room. "Give me some more," he grumbled. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Borka," she replied proudly, filling a new cup from a canteen and handed it back to him. "And you?"

The man made no attempt to answer that. He instead started to check himself out, trying to figure out if he was badly hurt. Then, realizing that he wasn't, he tried to get up. A dizzy spell hit him and he dropped back down on the makeshift bed, groaning. "How long was I out there?" he demanded after the dizziness had worn off.

"Don't know. The Hutt's been dead a week or so," Borka replied, feeling slightly upset about his apparent lack of gratitude. She didn't like helping people, who didn't appreciate it. "I cleaned your armor," she said in the hope that he would be grateful.

He glanced over at his uniform, which looked like new. Looking back at the crazy girl, he knew that he needed her to get better. "Good," he responded. "I need to rest. Leave me alone," he added, pulling the blankets up under his chin.

Borka got up, feeling hurt. She hurriedly left the great hall and walked around the palace, feeling sorry for herself. She did that until he she could hear him calling. Getting her hopes up, she ran back to the great hall only to receive a set of instructions and a demand for food. Borka was not a violent person, so she wouldn't have a fit over his treatment of her, but she was deeply hurt, vowing never to help anybody she didn't know again.


For more than a week, Borka's guest bossed her around, telling her what he needed and what she should do. He was up and about, ready to take on the galaxy again. Borka was starting to fear him and he seemed to like that. She had discovered something about his uniform, that she hadn't noticed while she had cleaned it. The belt had strange, hairy things hanging from it and she hadn't paid much attention to it before. But, her mind, though working slowly, worked in the right lines. She finally had figured out what those hairy things were. Now, that he was up and moving around, he was wearing the belt again and Borka spent many frightful hours, starring at the scalps hanging on the belt. It never once occurred to her, that she could just take off and leave him alone. She was much too scared at that time.

"Borka, get me something to drink," he snarled, standing at one of the windows in the adjoining room. The desert was silent and dark, but he paid no attention to the sand or what dwelt in it. He paid attention to the stars, feeling the urge to get going. Starring up at them, his face twisted into a hideous grin. "Soon," he mumbled. Borka came in with a cup of water and he gulped it down, nodding to himself. Borka's first impression of him had been a little wrong. He wasn't lacking hair. He just shaved his head, so that he only had an edge of hair on the middle of his head. That hair, on the other hand, was long and he had it braided from the top of his scull. The scar had left a band of destruction and the braid fitted to his idea of himself. He had a reputation and he took that very seriously. Turning to Borka, he looked down at her as she was sitting on the floor, looking at his scalps with frightened eyes. "That first day, you asked me my name," he said, wondering if she would know who he was. She nodded silently, her eyes never leaving the scalps. "I'm Boba Fett," he said.

Borka heard the name, but it took her a moment to respond to it. Slowly, she looked up into his face, feeling a cold shiver running through her. She knew who he was, all right. She feared him beyond reason. Starring up at him, she saw that he knew what she felt. He knew that she knew who he was. Moving on hands and knees, she started backing away from him, goose bumps running up and down her arms. "You're a bad, bad man," she whispered, but he only laughed at that. He started putting on his uniform and eventually put his gun into the holster.

"I've got a mission to accomplish, but I can't have you running around, telling everybody that I'm back," he told her, then he put on his helmet. "I want to thank you for saving my life. In return, I will take yours."

Having said those words, he pulled his gun again and pointed it at the shivering girl. She was still moving away from him, inch by inch getting closer to the door. For a moment, he considered letting her go. He could hardly imagine that anybody would believe her, if she told them about him. But, then again, he could not afford to take that chance. After one more moment of consideration, he pulled the trigger, killing Borka instantly. He eyed the dead girl for a moment, making sure she wasn't breathing, and then he turned back to the window. Looking out at the stars through the tinted glass in his mask, he smiled again. "You better say your last goodbyes, Solo. I'm coming to get you now."

Turning, he strode out of the room, stepping over Borka's limp body on the way. He never once looked back, when he went into the main corridor, slipped into the landspeeder and left the palace behind. Boba Fett, the most notorious bounty hunter in the Galaxy, was back — and he was out for revenge.