A'Sharad Hett lasted a week. All things considered, especially a Kenobi who no longer needed to eat, sleep, go to the bathroom, or anything else for that matter, and therefore could continue bothering Hett 24/7, that was quite the accomplishment. People had broken under a single day of such torture.

"Alright! I'll do it!" Hett yelled into the sky.

The sleep deprivation he was currently suffering from was having a seriously negative impact on everything, and if following the auditory hallucination's instructions was what it took to get more than a five minute nap, then so help him, he'd follow them, even if it meant flying to the Unknown Regions completely naked just to pick daisies. At this point, he no longer cared.

"Thank you." the voice said.

"You're welcome." Hett snarled. The past month had been enough to make him willing to consider joining the Sith and turning to the Dark Side.

Grumbling darkly the entire way, he walked over to the tent that belonged to the guy who had been his best buddy when he was a kid, and was his best friend now that he was attempting to reconnect with the tribe that raised him. Life back then before his dad died begging for Master Ki-Adi-Mundi to take him in and finish his training was fun. He and his buddies used to go out every other weekend, get drunk, and shoot pod-racers. Of course, they'd get grounded afterwards and be stuck doing women's work for two weeks, but still, watching those losers on the track crash had been absolutely hilarious. Good times.

He'd of course never told Skywalker that he'd winged his pod during the race that had won the former slave his freedom. The kid was touchy enough already. Fun to be around, and a good person to have at your back, or at least used to be a good person to have at your back if the voice was to be believed. All in all, he was a good friend, but touchy as hell and able to hold a grudge like you wouldn't believe.

Of course the fun and games all had to end when Aurra Sing showed up to watch the Boonta Eve race thirteen years ago only to see the guy she was betting on crash because of him and his buddies and agreed to follow Gardulla and Jabba's plan to attack their main camp. So, his father's death could have sort-of arguably been his fault if he chose to see it that way. He had for a while, but his master had taught him to put the blame where it belonged, on someone else. This time, the blame had been shoved onto Sing who had been the one to kill his dad. After all, she'd made a career out of going around killing Jedi, so there was a good chance that she would have killed his dad anyway if he hadn't gone out shooting pods.

That of course didn't matter now, and if he continued standing there stupidly in his buddy's tent saying nothing while his mind continued rambling on about the past, his friend was going to know that something was wrong with him. Mental illness wasn't well received amongst the Tusken Raiders. Lots of things weren't well received amongst his people, such as physical disabilities, and showing one's skin. If they ever found out that it was actually him in those holos that were taken during the recent war, they'd consider him a total pervert and cast him out. Showing his face and arms, and occasionally his torso was so far beyond unacceptable it wasn't even funny.

"Well buddy, I'm off to a planet where I'll most likely be killed for having been a Jedi in order to snatch some kid from what is undoubtedly a happy home in order to bring him to a couple of moisture farmers who live in our territory and hate our guts so I can wait until it's too late to train him to be a Jedi. Make sure nothing happens while I'm gone. I'll be back soon. Hopefully." He finally said after he'd gotten his sleep deprived thoughts in order. He hadn't gone this long without sleep in...ever. Even during the Clone Wars, he'd managed to snatch a few hours every three days or so.

"Okaaay." his friend said.

"Bye then." he said as he left the tent and made his way towards Mos Eisley to secure transport.

Several people shot at him on his way through Mos Eisley, but that was the Hutts' fault for starting up that little war between the moisture farmers and his people to get rid of a stockpile of nearly useless weapons. Thanks to that little war, just about everybody hated the Sand People, and vice versa. He didn't really hold being fired at against the people who were shooting at him. That wasn't the way of the Jedi, and since he was the last of the Jedi, and probably the only one who could take down the Empire later on despite what the auditory hallucination was telling him about Anakin's son, he shouldn't be getting too far out of the Jedi mindset.

After a while, he reached a cantina that was frequented by spacers and went inside. People stopped and stared at him. Probably because very few Sand People made it this far into Mos Eisley. He seated himself at a rather likely looking table where a man was guarding one of those sorts of drinks that supposedly had a reputation for dropping Wookiees but wasn't really all that strong, and were usually drunk by people who wanted to be seen as "badass".

"Whaddaya wan'?" the spacer slurred.

"I want passage to..." he started before the voice that had been bothering him for the last week interrupted him with a different destination.

"Alderaan? Why Alderaan?" he asked the voice aloud, not caring how he looked to the other cantina patrons at this point. He just wanted to do whatever it took to get that voice to shut up so he could get some kriffing sleep.

"Because someone needs to let Bail know that there's a Jedi in his corner if he needs one." the voice replied.

"Fine." he muttered to the voice before turning to the spacer. "I want passage to Alderaan."

"It'll cost you 8,000 credits." the spacer said drunkenly.

"Eight thousand credits!" he yelled angrily, his hand almost involuntarily going for his concealed lightsaber. His account balance was currently at zero, and the voice that wouldn't stop bothering him wanted him to shell out thousands of credits that he didn't have?

"But fortunately we're running an Insane Sand-Person discount today." the pilot quickly said. "The fee will only be the low, low price of 'Please don't kill me and take my ship. My family is depending on me.'"

"That sounds reasonable. The voice in my head claims that he has a rich friend on Alderaan that I could hit up for credits, so you might actually get something out of this." he replied.

He made sure to follow the spacer out to his ship to be sure that the man wouldn't ditch him at the first opportunity. The spacer tried to pull a blaster on him, but he pulled out his lightsaber. The spacer rapidly changed his mind and made a welcoming gesture as he lowered the ramp to his ship which was a piece of crap like almost all of the ships that landed on Tatooine.

"If you're thinking about spacing me in my sleep, you can forget it. I've been awake for a week already, and at this point, I can stay awake for another one." he said.

"Welcome aboard." the spacer said nervously. "Is there anything I can get you to drink?"


On Mandalore, a thirteen year-old boy held a baby and spoke several words that were as ancient as his father's people...

"Ni kyr'tal gai sa'ad. Leia." Boba said, stumbling over the words that should have been familiar to him, marking the child as his own son.

He was an adult now in the eyes of his father's people, and in his own eyes. He didn't need a pet baby, but a child who would carry on the Fett family name and bring honor to it would always be appreciated. Anakin Skywalker was a great warrior, and a child who carried that man's blood could be no less.

When the words had been spoken, his father's old friend Kal Skirata whose boys he used to needlessly antagonize when he'd been a child smiled down at him and proudly ruffled his hair.

"You'll be a great father Boba." Skirata said. "As good as your father. No, even better. Because, you'll have us."


Author's Note: For those who were wondering where I got the idea of A'Sharad Hett shooting at Anakin's Pod at the Boonta Eve race, A'Sharad's father's death at Aurra Sing's - who had been at the podrace - hands took place in 32 BBY which was the same year as The Phantom Menace. A'Sharad Hett who had initially been trained by his father, had been taken in by the Order upon his father's death. Hett had been a teenager at the time, and the shooting pods thing seemed more like something a teenager would do than anything.

Edited 11-18-13