There were choices to make. Hard, life-altering choices. Boba Fett never thought he was actually getting out of this system alive. He had already endured a life of hardship. But surviving a black hole, this was something considered physically impossible for anyone. Even Sith Lords couldn’t perform such a task, and some of them had mastered the art of resurrection. Black holes meant death, and and always. There would be no way to reenter the same one, and by chance, stumble back into the original galaxy from where he once existed. There were avenues to restore power to Slave lV, but unless he could track down an astrophysicist with knowledge of black hole navigation, he was more than likely… stranded.

The thought had lingered in the back of his mind for the past day, but he kept it hidden, wanting anything except being stranded on this primitive and strange world. But if Boba Fett’s past experiences had taught him anything, it was that life, and more so fate, had an unknowing and unforgiving way of steering every creature in the galaxy to their destiny. Some were simply gunned down chasing quick credits on desolate planets in the Outer Rim, while others led glorious lives, surrounded by power and greed, ruling over the galaxy comfortably before being thrown off a balcony by your number two in command. Life’s beginning, middle and end took many shapes. And as someone who had sent many to their deaths, Boba Fett knew this.

Though his end had not yet arrived, his destiny was renewed the instant he had set foot on this strange planet. There would be a final bounty before he retired and faded into obscurity. In the past few years, Fett had eased up on the few bounties that had eluded him. The very small amount that were still living. There were more pressing matters in his later years; rebuilding Mandalorian society, reconciling with his granddaughter, searching for a cure to clone degeneration. But now, because of this strange world and an impossible circumstance, his lifelong purpose took precedence.

“So what’s your plan Bob?” asked Royce, who was in the other room getting dressed. He emerged in a rather utilitarian outfit similar to the one he had been wearing prior. The only difference was the chest armor, which now read ‘Lily Allen’ in Galactic Basic.

Fett pulled his helmet off and took a deep breath. “In the past few years, I’ve let bygones be bygones… Bounties that weren’t worth the chase, I erased their data and turned a blind eye. I became a leader and a grandfather… Before that, bounty hunter was the only way I was defined in the galaxy. Then it changed, drastically… I became less of a cold-blooded killer and more of a… more of a human. Some bounties were more personal than others though, so I kept ahold of their data, and made a promise to myself, that if I ever did encounter those bounties, I would adhere to the Bounty Hunter’s Creed and safely collect on their acquisition… This György Lukács is still on the top of that list… It was a promise I made to the very beings that raised me after the death of my father, some 60 standard years ago…. I know there’s no way off this rock. Slave lV’s energy can be restored, but what then? I fly around airspace here til I’m blown out of the sky by your military? No way in hell I am going to come out of a back hole and die at the hands of a primitive race’s weapons… I think my destiny lies with this final bounty… Afterwards, I will just need to make peace with the fact that I am finishing my life on this planet as an old man hiding safely somewhere in the margins of society… Something brought me here, and I refuse to ignore its calling… Once more in my life, I will become Boba Fett the bounty hunter… And then it will end.”

Royce had been listening as he searched the Internet for travel to California. When Fett was finished, Royce turned to him and said, “Well, I think I have some good news then. Greyhound can get you to Modesto for $59 one way… I’ll front the money if you want,” he continued.

“What’s Greyhound?” asked Fett.

“It’s… uh… ground transportation to your final bounty,” Royce answered.

“And when does it leave,” asked Fett.

“In two hours, let’s get our asses to Port Authority,” rallied Royce.

“So you’re with me,” asked Fett.

“I can’t go with you, but I’ll certainly get you to your transport in much the same way that Han got Leia on the Millennium Falcon when they evacuated Hoth,” answered Royce.

Disgruntled, Fett should his head, thinking to himself, “This György Lukács needs to die.”