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32 BBY - 10 years before the Clone Wars start
Fett’s ship was small. A patrolling vessel, designed to have a base to return to. Not a luxury yacht with all amenities on hand.
Fox toted his bags from Zam’s ship and stowed them in Fett’s hold while Zam helped Jango get his knee fixed up. Fox took a minute to see to his own injuries. Thankfully the stab wounds were shallow and easily taken care of with some cleaning and bacta patches. Fox silently thanked Dex for getting him the little medkit. The cracked ribs would have to heal on their own.
Zam helped Jango limp onto his ship.
“You two have fun,” the Clawdite bounty hunter said, pressing a kiss to Fox’s helmet. “Comm me if you get bored.”
“When haran freezes over,” Fox muttered, when she was out of earshot.
The ramp began to close and Fox walked into the hold, then climbed the ladder up to the cockpit. He took a seat in the copilot’s chair and watched as Fett took the ship up through the atmosphere and into the blackness of space beyond.
“Don’t recall inviting you into my cockpit, Naasade” Jango said.
“You didn’t.”
Fox’s eyes slid to Jango’s knee that he’d dislocated during their fight. The bounty hunter had removed his knee guard and the greave below that, and Fox could see the outline of a brace beneath the fabric of Jango’s flight suit.
“You need bacta for that?” he asked, gesturing to Jango’s knee.
“Zam already placed a couple patches under the brace.”
“I have more, if you need them later,” Fox said.
Jango eyed him out of the corner of his eye. “You in the habit of patching up people you fight with?”
As a matter of fact, Fox was, when he sparred with his brothers and there wasn’t a medic nearby. Fox wasn’t medically inclined, but he could slap on a bacta patch with the best of them. It seemed wrong somehow to ignore Jango’s pain, even though Fox had never felt anything familial for his DNA donor.
“We’re going to be working together,” Fox said with a shrug. “I don’t need to be watching my back for retaliation while trying to do my job.”
Jango huffed. “Fair enough.”
They were silent as Jango set the coordinates for their destination, then engaged the hyperdrive.
“It’s a few days from here to Kamino,” Jango said. “The Slave I only has one bunk, so you’ll have to make yourself comfortable however you can. Galley’s in the back on the level below this one. You’ll have to entertain yourself.”
“Not a problem,” Fox said.
He didn’t plan on interacting with Jango more than he had to. If he could make the whole ride to Kamino without taking off his helmet, all the better. He worried that if Prime saw his face before they reached Tipoca City that the other man would just launch him out the airlock. Fox couldn’t afford to let that happen. His little brothers needed him.
/././././
Fox kept to himself in the passenger area. He ate the ration packs that Dex had packed for him and read the books preloaded on his datapad, or made notes about events he wanted to see if he could somehow change. He had no idea how this time travel thing worked. Had he already made changes he didn’t know about?
Fett must have run out of ways to busy himself, or he’d just gotten curios about Fox, because he invited Fox to play sabacc with him on the third evening. Perhaps Fett just wanted to see if he could learn anything about Fox from the way he played. Fox had years of reading the same face for small tells, and easily won the first few hands. Then he lost a couple—he didn’t want to completely antagonize Prime—before winning a couple more.
On the last night before they reached Kamino, Fox heard a thud followed by swearing up in the cockpit. They’d used all of the bacta patches on Jango’s knee—Fox would have to see if he could restock his medkit once they landed—and run out of analgesics, and the bounty hunter had been cranky with the pain.
“Jango?” Fox called up.
There was no reply. Muttering curses and hoping Fett hadn’t fallen an injured himself even more, Fox climbed up to the cockpit. He was surprised to find Jango shitfaced in the pilot’s chair, a nearly empty bottle of golden liquid on the console. A second, empty, bottle lay on the floor at his feet.
“Bad time to get drunk,” Fox said, taking the copilot’s seat.
“Perfect time,” Jango muttered into his cup. “Gonna have t’see those eyesores when we land t’morrow.”
Fox’s hands clenched on his thighs. “You mean your clones?” he ground out. “The grand army you agreed to help create?”
“Utreebaar’e,” Fett said. Empty bodies. Automatons.
Fox didn’t realize he’d moved until he registered the shocked look on Jango’s face, and a throbbing pain in his right hand.
“They’re not meat droids,” Fox snarled, landing another punch. “They’re living, breathing, feeling men!”
Jango hurled his cup at Fox, startling him, which gave the other man the opening he needed to tackle Fox to the deck. They rolled around the small space, trading punches. A minute or so later, despite several blows to his already sore ribs, Fox ended up on top, a forearm across Jango’s throat. Somewhere in the tussle, he’d lost his helmet.
Jango stared, then started laughing hysterically, choking a little as Fox applied pressure across his larynx.
“You’ve got my face,” the bounty hunter snorted. “Why would you do that?”
“’S not like I had a choice,” Fox grumbled, shoving away from the other man.
For some reason, that made Jango laugh harder. He lay on the deck, blood trickling down his face, giggling. After a moment he sat up, gingerly feeling his face.
“Shit, vod, I think you broke my nose again.”
A violent shudder went through Fox. “I’m not your vod.”
He grabbed the bottle from the console and took a swig, grimaced, and took another. Jango staggered to his feet, snagged the bottle from Fox and drained the remaining liquor.
“Shabuir,” Fox muttered.
“Dinii,” Jango shot back, still grinning like a lunatic himself.
He dropped into the pilot’s seat and tried to take another drink from the empty bottle, then tossed it over his shoulder. It shattered on the floor.
“If you hate your clones so much, why did you agree to be the genetic template?” Fox asked.
“Money was good,” Jango said. “Still not sure there wasn’t some jetii osik involved.”
Fox shivered at the reminder of Sidious’ involvement in the creation of the clone army. His fingers brushed the side of his head. That damned chip was still in there. He’d have to see if he could get someone on Kamino to take it out; maybe one of the cuy’val dar. Or maybe he could slip off world at some point and find a neutral medstation.
He also had to find a way to get all his vode dechipped before the jetiise came to collect them.
What a fekking nightmare.
A soft snore drew his attention back to Jango. The other man was asleep slumped in his chair. Shaking with suppressed emotion, Fox found his helmet and descended the ladder all the way to the cargo bay. Fett’s voice kept ringing in his ears.
Utreebaar’e.
From his kitbag, Fox pulled his trooper bucket. He yanked it on and with a few blinks brought up the HUD. He focused on an icon in the lower left corner of the display and blinked to open the file. He thanked all the Ka’ra and the Force that the data stored in his bucket hadn’t been corrupted by his travel through time.
A holopic of Cody filled the screen. He was sitting at a little field desk in front of a tent with a stack of datapads in front of him. Wolffe had snapped the holo after a campaign the 212th and Wolfpack had completed together and forwarded it to Fox.
With a flick of his eyes, Fox brought up the next holopic. This one showed Bly and his Jedi, General Secura, leaning against each other, asleep. Rex had snapped this holo on Maridun after defeating the Separatists there.
Fox flicked to the next one: Rex, Cody, Fox, Wolffe, and Bly at 79’s.
Next: Thire, Thorn, Stone, Fox, and Hound playing sabacc in the Guard barracks.
Next: Wolffe and Rex, with their Jedi, during some briefing or another.
Next: Ponds, General Windu, Stak, and Razor on Ryloth.
Neyo. Fil. Bacara. Monnk. Rys and Jek. Gree. Doom. And so many others.
This is why I’m going back to Kamino, Fox reminded himself, as he flicked through more pictures. He ignored the wet trails sliding down his cheeks. This is who I’m fighting for.
When he felt on a more even emotional footing, Fox put his bucket away and climbed back to the makeshift bedroll he’d put together. Tomorrow they would reach Kamino, and he wouldn’t have to spend any more time in Jango Fett’s objectionable company.
/././././
When Fox awoke the next morning, it was to the quiet hum of the hyperdrive. Usually Fett was up by now and knocking around the cockpit or fiddling with the security systems on his ship or some other busy activity.
Fox climbed up to the cockpit leaving his helmet next to his bedroll.
“Jango?” he called.
A pained groan answered him. Fox didn’t bother to hide his grin as he walked to the pilot’s seat.
“Regretting those bottles you drank last night?”
“Shut yer hole, fer Ka’ra’s sake,” the bounty hunter ground out.
“I don’t know why you’re so out of sorts,” Fox said louder than necessary. “I’m sure it’s a beautiful day on Kamino.”
“Gonna murder you,” Fett rasped, fumbling at his hip for the blaster that wasn’t there.
For some Force-forsaken reason, Fox took pity on the man. He helped Jango to the ‘fresher, where he was violently sick, then went to the tiny galley to start a pot caf while Jango cleaned himself up. When the bounty hunter slipped into a seat at the table, Fox placed a mug of steaming caf in front of him without a word.
Jango sipped the caf then looked up at Fox, his mouth open as if he’d been going to say something, then dropped his head into his hands with a grunt.
“I thought I’d dreamed that,” Jango said, gesturing vaguely at Fox’s face. “I’d hoped I’d dreamed it.”
Fox crossed his arms over his chest, unimpressed. “’Fraid not.”
“Little gods, what were you thinking when you changed your face?” Jango raised his head, irritation written across his features. “Were you hoping to use my reputation as your own?”
Fox cocked an eyebrow. Jango was taking this better than he’d thought. He was also going down the entirely wrong path; albeit one that was more probable. And Fox could run with the unexpected explanation. One wasn’t supposed to look a gift fathier in the mouth after all.
“Who in their right mind would want your reputation?” Fox snarked. “I was just hoping to scare a few shin . . . er, bounties into coming along quietly.”
“So, you were banking on my reputation.” Fett took another sip of caf.
“If that makes you feel better, sure.”
Fox and Jango glared at each other for a moment.
Fox finally said, “I’ll try to stay out of your way on Kamino.”
“Fine by me,” Jango agreed.