Boba Fett sat in the darkest corner of the Mos Eisely cantina watching the world slog by. Seated near the back door he could hear the static filled com units of two Stormtroopers talking outside. *fffht* ?How could you let them slip by? No ID check, you didn?t even look at them.? The other trooper shrugged. *pppht* ?They weren?t the droids we were looking for.? *zzzzt* ?What do you mean, we?re looking for an astromech and a protocol, wasn?t that what was in the speeder?? *zzpt* ?Er, yeah, but they weren?t the right ones. I just had this feeling.? WHAM! The trooper stretched out his hand and smacks the helmet of the other trooper soundly. *zzzpt*?Hey! what th??? *ffffht*?I figure you must have a short that is frying your skull, because what you just said made NO sense at all.? Such was the degeneration of the once proud ?Best of the Best? of the past decade. Cloning facilities were under constant attack from Rebel terrorists and were failing to keep up with the demand, so the Empire was hiring any ?body? they could as long as they were single, human, male, blindly loyal and obedient as a dog. That didn?t usually mean smart. But cannon fodder never needs to be smart, just to be pointed in the right direction. If he?d been inclined Fett could and would have easily killed them both for disturbing his solace. His father certainly would have for their incompetence, regardless that there might be some of his own DNA in that armor, his own distant brothers. His father was a perfectionist and had no tolerance for failure in himself or others. But the galaxy had moved on from then and Boba was not interested unless payment was involved and troopers were not on the menu today. What might be was what they were looking for. Why would the Empire be so hot for a couple of droids? Suddenly he heard a familiar sound, one he?s not heard in a very long time. It was a humming crackling sound; the sound of the type of weapon that had ended his father?s life. A lightsaber. He peered around and saw the old man at the bar in a fighting stance holding the weapon. Old Obi-Wan himself. Amazing, after all these years he was still alive. Fett also noticed a familiar tall wookiee nearby watching the old guy with intent as he put away the weapon with a quick glance around. Where the Wook was, no doubt the smuggler Solo was somewhere around as well. Now the day just got really interesting. Word was Jabba had been shafted by Solo recently on a deal, and was growing impatient with the reckless smuggler who had gone to ground to avoid facing the music. Solo must be getting desperate, risking a cantina meeting where he could easily be spotted. What old Obi-Wan had to do with it all, he didn?t know, but he was willing to bet Vader would pay well to know that one of the most venerated of the Jedi were still alive. On the other hand, whatever business he had with Solo might bring even more credits to the table. Maybe a two for one, sell one to Vader, the other to Jabba. But first, a call to Jabba seemed to be in order to check on price and terms for Solo. He rose and slipped out the back door, past the two bickering troopers who were completely clueless that the very things they sought were on the other side of the cantina standing in plain sight. He noticed Greedo slithering in past him, but gave him little thought. Greedo was lucky, but sloppy and stupid and one day the Rodian?s luck would fail and he?d be a greasy green pool somewhere. If Jabba had hired an amateur like Greedo, then he deserved what he got, and gets what he pays for.