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ESCAPE was all Araminta could think. As her wrists were bound together in front of her and she was stripped of her weapons, that was all she could think of. Escape, and find Obi-wan. If only it were that simple, as they were escorted far out of the factory on a ship to the main structure on the horizon.
Escape and find Obi-wan, she kept telling herself. She had to survive. But then Anakin or Padme would make a noise, draw her attention back to their presence, and she would be reminded that her orders also applied to them, and then the conflict started. Were they worth leaving for the sake of Obi-wan? Would Araminta suffer worse consequences if the pair were harmed under her watch?
There was roaring as they landed, and Araminta looked upwards, the sky blotted with many buzzing Geonosians. The structure was massive, built like a colosseum, and Araminta could only figure that was their fate for trespassing. If it was a fight they wanted, then it was a fight they would get.
But Araminta would not get that fight, as the man from before approached. Araminta looked up at him, not lifting her head. She recognised his armour– Mandalorian, like a bounty hunter she had encountered during the years she had served Octavian who had been chasing the same mission she had.
They had had to compromise and split the reward, lawless and fleeting. Jango Fett was the name Obi-wan had mentioned, and Araminta recognised it when everything was put together.
"Not this one," he said. "Keep her separate." The Geonosians around him spoke in a language Araminta didn't recognise, a mix of clicks and croaks. But she knew their focus was on her, questioning the orders around her, and Araminta didn't dare look to Anakin or Padme. "Lift her sleeve then," the helmet man said. "See for yourself."
Araminta sneered as a Geonosian guard approached her, a crooked hand reaching for her lifting her sleeve up to expose her brand. The reaction was immediate. Because no matter what language was spoken, Octavian's brand meant fear, and the Geonosians bleeted and warbled.
"You don't think I'd be a good show?" Araminta asked in a saturated voice, frowning dramatically.
"Being in good standing with the greatest killers in the galaxy is worth the lack of a show," Fett told her. "An escort will arrive shortly to take you."
Araminta felt her stomach drop and her blood run cold. Her face stayed cool, eyes flickering away from the man's helmet, hiding her inner turmoil. Because returning to Octavian's clutches was the worst case scenario. She had done everything to avoid him since she had been set up. She had ended up on this damned planet in the first place trying to fulfil the debt keeping her alive and out of his grasp.
Everything was to avoid him, because she knew the fate that awaited if she did. She would be killed without a second thought, as effortlessly as she killed the Geonosians in the factory, as effortlessly as she had fell the man at the station. At least with the Jedi, she could work for her survival, ensure it like she had been doing.
