The Fett Legacy

CHAPTER 2

When I left the building, many people on the sandy streets ran inside or cowered behind a building when they saw me walk by. I tried to hold my head high as I reentered the landing pad where the Revenant was docked. However, Lassio wasn't a womp rat; my shoulders were aching by the time I arrived. When T3-30 saw me, he turned around and said, "You killed my master. Thank you. I had been considering it for awhile."

"Yah, sure. Why don't you come with us? We could use a droid like you." I offered.

"I will proudly join the Fett Hunt," he said.

"The Fett Hunt?" I repeated, dropping Lassio into the ship and sitting him upright against the wall.

"Yes, that is what you are known as throughout the outer rim," T3 explained.

"Interesting," I said. "How are the repairs going?"

"They're going well, Jetta," Zors answered, walking up the landing ramp. He put his hands on his hips and looked down at Lassio.

"Who's this?" He asked, motioning to Lassio.

"60,000 credits," I responded.

"No way! Really? 60,000?" He asked awestruck.

"Yep, we gotta get him to the First Order," I said. "Luckily, since we have T3, we can get out of here sooner."

"Yes! I hate this God-forsaken wasteland," Zors exclaimed. I shook my head and climbed the ladder into the cockpit. When I arrived at the top, I saw the back of young man sitting on one of the seats, playing with the wrench I had thrown earlier.

"And who are you?" I inquired, grabbing my blaster.

"Nobody," he said. But I recognized the voice.

"Dameron," I whispered.

"Hello Jetta," he said casually, not bothering to turn around.

"What do you want?" I scowled, pointing my blaster at the back of his head. He turned around this time and grinned.

"Just wanted to check on, that's all. You can put the blaster down; I'm not here to hurt you," he said, setting the wrench down. He stood up, and walked over to me so that he was only an inch from my face. "Rather, I'm here to convince you to join the Resistance." His brown eye bored into my helmet.

"You know I can't and I won't. I'm loyal to the First Order," I responded, trying to get away from him. Instead, he grabbed my arms and pushed me against a wall. He reached his hands to my helmet and slowly took it off. I don't know why I didn't stop him; something about Poe Dameron kept me from resisting. Once it was off, he brushed his gloved finger along one of my scars. The very scar he gave me 15 years ago.

"You haven't aged a day since we met on Kijimi," he whispered, taking his finger off my face.

"Well, you have. Now give me my helmet," I ordered, shoving him off and reaching for it.

He pulled it away from me and said, "I don't think so."

"Poe. Please, I hate you, but I don't want to kill you."

He laughed and said, "Fine, fine. Take it. But I'm still holding to my offer. The General could use a pilot like you. Oh, and everything in the cockpit is back to normal," he said as he climbed down the ladder to the cargo hold.

"Nice jacket," I said as he crawled down the ladder into the cargo hold. It was a tan leather jacket, with red on one shoulder.

He stopped and looked up. "Thanks, it was a gift from you, remember?"

"How could I forget?"

I put my helmet back on and vowed to myself to never let Poe take it off again. I followed him down and walked him to the entrance of the landing pad.