Dreams of Destiny
By Larry Yoakum III
Boba Fett lay sleeping in the cockpit chair of the Slave 1, which was the single place in the whole of existence that Boba felt comfortable enough to sleep in. He had done too much in his life. But, as was an old Mandalorian belief, ghosts cannot reach you in hyperspace.
For his entire life, Fett slept very well in hyperspace. He wasn’t the kind who had dreams. At least, not ones that were worth remembering.
It had been twenty long years since he escaped the Sarlaac. He was feeling old and tired. Perhaps it is time he cloned himself so that his clone could take the helm of the ship and continue the legacy of Fett. He had time and time again tried to capture Han Solo. The one bounty that escaped him. True enough, he had taken him over a decade ago to Jabba the Hutt, but the incident at the Pit of Carkoon led to Solo’s escape and eventually, the Empire fell.
Oh, how Fett missed the Empire. Not one to be too sentimental, he missed the days where the Imperial Government let him roam freely to do his job. He was on retainer for both Jabba the Hutt and Lord Vader himself.
As Fett slept, his dreams suddenly became very lucid. He was quite aware he was dreaming. Usually when that happens, he snaps out of it and awakens. But this time, he stayed asleep.
He found himself in a chair, sitting alone in a dark room. Sensing a presence behind him, he turned and saw Jango Fett, the man who was responsible for his creation. The man who raised him like a son, for in a twisted sort of way, he was Jango’s son.
“Hello Boba,” Jango said, his voice sounding harsh through the helmet’s speaker. His armor looked just as shiny and colored as it did those many years ago when he was slain by Jedi Master Mace Windu. Unlike Boba’s own uniform, which did indeed belong to his father, but over the decades, it faded and became worn, but strong as ever.
“Dad,” Boba said in an equally harsh monotone. Being as Basic wasn’t their native tongue, when they spoke it, it tended to sound this way. Most people found it intimidating.
“Son, I’ve come to you from the land of the dead. This is a dream, yet it isn’t. On Concord Dawn, old shamans called it The Great Commune. Many Jedi have also managed to come back from the netherworld.” Boba nodded, rembering his studies in Jedi Lore that his father made him study. But, it was believed that only Jedi, or Sith, could return from the land of the dead.”
“That is what I believed as well, Dad.” Boba agreed.
“Well, that is true enough. Others can come back, but only with the help of a force sensitive. And son, you are one.” Boba’s eyes widened but it wasn’t seen from under his battle helmet. “I was just an ordinary man, son, but you have called me back from the other side. You showed me the way to return to the living galaxy. You somehow became a Force Sensitive. I don’t know how it happened, but now son, you have a destiny. Our ancestors descended from the original Dark Jedi group that eventually became the Sith. I suppose a recessive gene had the powers in it. Anyway, you must reclaim the galaxy in the name of the Sith. In the name of Fett.”
With a start Fett woke, the words echoing in his head. “Reclaim the galaxy.” He muttered to himself out loud. In the name of the Sith. Reaching into his cooler that sat next to his pilot’s chair, he took a shot of Gungan Gin and simply attributed the dream to stress.
To be continued…..