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The blaster bolt was so close that it singed her golden hair. Her Master gave no sign of injury, but when she looked down, they both were covered in blood.

As the sound of bounty hunters fighting and/or fleeing went on behind her, K’ta’la Ris knelt by the side of her bloodied Master. She was virtually oblivious to the chaos going on around her as she tried to reach through the force, tried to do anything she could to stem the flow of blood. It should be easy, even for a young Jedi novice of seven, but she just could not do it. Nothing she could do was stopping the blood from coming.

"Master Yar," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Master Yar, I’m…I’m so sorry, Master. It’s all my fault."

The dying Jedi Master reached out to grip the youngling’s hand. K’ta’la was surprised his grip was still so strong. She was surprised he was even still alive.

"Help me to stand, little one," the tall alien Jedi Master called Yar murmured.

"No, Master—" K’ta’la started to protest, but he silenced her with a look.

"I cannot allow those bounty hunters to return that device to their employer."

"But, Master, you’re hurt?" It was all the little Jedi child could focus on. Let the blasted bounty hunters take the evil thing back to their blasted employers. All she cared about now was her Master, not a pack of murdering scum, and the worse scum who paid them. "Let them have it, Master!" she insisted.

"No!" Master Yar’s voice was firm though the rest of his body was failing. "Do as I tell you, young one."

It was a struggle. The Jedi girl child was of a very small race, and K’ta’la was tiny even for all that. Her Master, when he was well, stood well over six and a half feet tall. Once she had helped him up, however, he seemed to gather more strength about him.

As they moved towards the horrible ancient Sith device, K’ta’la could sense the few surviving bounty hunters regrouping just behind them. Their leader was a tall grim Mandallorian man, and it was obvious from his interactions with her Master that this bounty hunter held absolutely no love for the Jedi order. In fact, he virtually emitted waves of ill will towards Jedi that chilled her to the bone. Yet, the man had not hesitated to spring in to action, and had, K’ta’la assumed, chased down, and killed the one of his team that had fired upon her, had fired to kill. Had Killed her Master. He just was not lying dead yet.

This was why her Master was dying. Master Yar had saved her with his own body.

If only I hadn’t misplaced his light saber, he wouldn’t be…

K‘ta’la choked back a sob. She could not even finish the thought. She was barely seven, a once overconfident seven, but all her Jedi training for the last four years was failing her.

"No, Master, do not touch that thing," the child begged. It was pulsing a horrible black light and was covered in blood ... And worse. Some of it was her Masters, a bit of it was hers, but most was from the unfortunate members of the bounty hunter group who found it before they arrived.

Yar simply ignored her.

"I wish to speak to your leader," Yar called back over his shoulder to the bounty hunters.

"Master, don't trust him? What are you?"

Again, he silenced her with a look.

The other bounty hunters fell bac as the grim Mandallorian man approached cautiously and stopped several paces away.

"the one who tried to kill your Youngling is now dead, Jedi," the man spoke coldly. And that coldness was not just artificially created by his helmet. "You get no more favors from me. You look like you need medical attention. And you are blocking our bounty. So, get that child out of here while you can."

"Your bounty shall die with me," Yar said quietly. "If you take it, none of you will survive long enough to collect your payment. The one who hired you surely knew this, and you know that I speak the truth, Hunter. You saw what this abomination did to most of your people."

"I wish to ask a favor of you, Sir," Yar went on determinedly. "Not those others, just you, Hunter. Please, come closer. There is little time."

The bounty Hunter took two steps forward, and K’ta’la made a very rash decision. She whirled around to confront him. In her hand she held a very tiny blade, little more than a training light saber, and placed herself squarely between the bounty hunter and her injured dying Master. She did not care that the training blade was no match for this man's armor.

The bounty hunter made no move. He just stared down at her, his hand resting casually on his blaster.

"You’re a very brave little girl," the man murmured.

K’ta’la simply stared him down but said nothing.

"Stand down, Novice Ris!"

Yar’s command cracked like a whip. K’ta’la tried to struggle against it, but slowly her small light blade was forced down. Against her will, her hand released the switch, and the blade shrank to nothingness. Not that it mattered much.

"Come here child," Yar said gently. "We have little time."

The little girl did not want to turn her back on this bounty hunter. So, she backed all the way to her master’s side, never taking her eyes off the big grim man, the hater of Jedi.

"Go with him," her Master commanded weakly.

"What?"

The cry came from both the little girl and the grim Mandalorian bounty hunter.

"I beseech you, honorable Sir, with my dying breath and last blood, to see this child safe back to Corruscant, Bounty Hunter," Master Yar stated formally. "I ask you this on your honor."

"Master Yar he hates us," K'ta'la whispered.

"Wiser than your years too, aren't you, little one. The child is right. I don’t babysit, I don’t do charity work, and I will never do favors for the Jedi Order," the Mandallorian said flatly.

"You know what is right and wrong, Sir. Besides, if the child is delivered safely, you shall be compensated well," Master Yar told the man. "If you refuse the request of a dying being, then it is better that she dies with me."

The bounty hunter’s eyes flicked between the weakening and dying alien Jedi and the tiny girl child. A growl of frustration came from the Mandalorian.

"very well ... For the sake of the child," the man grumbled. K’ta’la watched with disbelief and much trepidation as the man came forward and took her master’s bloody hand in his own. "Upon your dying blood, and my honor—"

Glaring at the man, K’ta’la almost snorted at that, but managed to remain silent.

"I will protect your child, Jedi. I’ll see her safe back to Corruscant. You have my word."

Yar visibly relaxed and turned his attention to his rebellious little Novice.

"Go with him, K’ta’la," he ordered softly.

"No!" she gasped, recoiling slightly, cringing against her master's side.

"Mind my last wish, girl," Yar insisted, putting the force in to his voice, and both the Jedi child and the bounty hunter flinched with the power of it. "You will be perfectly safe with this man. If I was not certain of that, I would never let you go. Take care of one another."

Yar handed her his blood-covered light saber and his log recorder.

"May the Force be with you BOTH," the Jedi Mastered murmured.

He drew the child in and kissed the top of her head weakly. She whimpered and tried to cling to him, but he gently moved her away from him.

"C’mon kid. That thing's gonna blow any minute now," she heard the bounty hunter say to her. His tone was much gentler, but the gruff voice sounded so very far away. She was barely aware as the man first took her tiny hand, then for the sake of expediency, lifted her into his arms and began to run. Surprisingly, K’ta’la did not struggle. She felt as if her entire body was mired in thick quicksand or mud. He was not holding her in a punishing grip, but she could barely breathe, anyway.

 In her mind's eye, she saw her Master draping his broken body around the horrible ancient Sith machine. She felt him pouring his life force in to it, faster than it could handle. And even before the man flung them both to the ground and covered her with his armored body, she felt the coming explosion.

"No! Master Yar! NOOOOOO!" she screamed, though whether or not she screamed it out loud, the little girl could not tell. For in the instant her Master died, she fell unconscious. She was limp and totally unaware when the man finally climbed to his feet, took her in his arms again, and lifted them up int the sky. She was unaware as he lay her down on a bunk in his ship, Slave one, fastened a safety harness around her small body, then lifted off.

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Babysitting! The man grumbled to himself. I'm actually babysitting! And a Jedi kid to boot! What have I gotten myself into now?

The bounty hunter, Jango Fett, fretted as he flew on. His little Jedi guest was still virtually comatose in her bunk. And he realized he did not even know her name, let alone her age. She was so tiny and fragile-looking that he guessed her age to be around three, possibly four, but her demeanor suggested that she might be much Older, perhaps twice what Jango supposed.

"Roz, I'm coming in," he called. "And I've got a guest."

"Guest?" Rozatta inquired. "Warm or cold?"

"Guest, Roz, not a bounty. Just get a nice room ready for her, alright. A nice comfortable one."

"Well now. If you're paying, Jango, she can have the best suite I can rig up," the Toydarian woman told him. Then, "Did you say her?" Roz did not bother to hide either surprise or her utter delight from her voice.

"Well, it's about time. We'll be ready for you and your, um, guest," the Toydarian's grin was evident in her tone even if Jango could not see it.

"No, Roz. She's not," Jango began, but Rozatta had already ended transmission.

She's gonna be so disappointed, Jango thought grinning to himself. Then a worse thought occurred to him. Oh, she will never let me live this one down. She is gonna start all that old nonsense about me settling down and starting a family again.

Jango sighed heavily. It was so irritating but why did his mind keep going back to that child? Sure, she was temporarily his responsibility. And yes, she did looked so helpless right now, and he would never get her cry as her Master died out of his head or his heart, he knew that. The little girl had gone so limp and so still right after that nightmare device exploded that, until they got back to Slave I and he scanned her, he feared that she had died, too. Had her connection to her dead Master been that strong?

But he also kept reminding himself, tried to anyway, that she was not a normal child. She was a Jedi child. A jedi!

Eventually, Jango gave up on his inner struggles, put Slave I's auto-pilot into action, and went to sit by the child's bed. For a long time, He just sat there and gazed over at his unwanted guest. Come on, Sweetheart. Wake up for Uncle Jango, he thought before mentally giving himself a really good slap for thinking that way.

Reaching out a hand, he lightly laid it on her hair, and winced. She really did need to be cleaned up, but he could not bring himself to do it yet. He was even afraid to move her, but her hair and clothes were liberally spattered with the blood of her dead Master. This was one of a very few times in his life that Jango wished he had a good all-purpose service droid around. Better still, a really top of the line nurse droid. Then he could just put the child in its care until they got back to Corruscant, and he would not need to interact with her at all. He certainly had enough credits to buy one and not even consider the cost ...

The hardened bounty hunter broke off mid thought and bowed his head, feeling very ashamed of himself. Jedi child or no, Jango knew he would never do that, even if he could. Children, even Jedi children, deserved personal attention and care, something even the best of nanny or nurse droids could not do, in Jango's humble opinion.

Well, unpleasant tasks are best dealt with quickly, Jango told himself. With one last look back at his charge, he rose and went to look through his stores to see what he had to care for the child. The first task should be simple enough. He wanted to get all that blood out of her hair and quickly. And if the little darling force swatted him across the room while he did it, he would just have to pick himself up and try again.

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Strong arms supported her as gentle hands were meticulously combing through her hair. And there was a strong presence nearby. It burned brightly in the force. Even in her unconscious state, little K'ta'la felt it wrapping around her, strong and protective, almost nurturing.

"Master Yar?" she gasped and sat up. Or, she tried to sit up, but something was preventing her. After a few seconds of panicked struggle, she mastered herself enough to free herself from the restraint. Once she sat on the floor, the little girl remembered what had happened, and she realized where she was. She was now in that bounty hunters ship.

This was no comfort at all.

With a huge sigh, K'ta'la sat on the floor next to the bunk where the man had placed her, and she fought for control. True, she was not a full-fledged Jedi yet? She was not even officially a Padawan. But this was such a basic skill that it should be second nature by now, even to a novice. To her dismay, K'ta'la was finding that, in her case, it was anything but second nature.

Master Yar was dead! This was all she could think about. Not even that she was now in the temporary custody of some grim bounty hunter. The Master who had taken such a caring interest in her, in spite of her Jedi failings, was gone now.

Forcing herself to a temporary calm, K'ta'la drew in a slow deep breath, intending to let that breath out, with equal slowness. With that exhaled breath, her fear and grief would flow out as well. At least, that was how things were supposed to work. But what came out instead was a quiet sob. And once that first one came out, others were clamoring to follow.

The Jedi child sat up straight and clenched her little fists, and the bunk beside her began to shake, the blankets rising a full 12 inches from the bed.

"No. No, NO! Not here!" she whispered fiercely, and slowly the bed coverings wafted back down, and the bunk stopped shaking as she gained a marginal control. She let her tears flow instead. She sat on the floor, bowed her head, and wept quietly.

"Thanks kid," came a voice from the doorway.

The heavy step of the bounty hunter sounded as he came nearer, but K'ta'la did not look up. At least, she did not want to look up as the man came to stand in front of her, towering over her. But when her curiosity got the better of her, as it almost always did, it was a relief to find that the man did not look nearly so grim and terrifying without his armor. And, under other circumstances, his voice might have even been quite soothing without the artificial elements that helmet provided To it.

"Don't worry. I won't ask anything as stupid as how are you feeling. I can guess. Feels like you've been stomped on by a herd of bantha, right?" he went on quietly as he sat down in front of her.

She nodded.

"Yep, I thought so. But thank you for not breaking me or my ship."

"You're welcome," she replied automatically as the corners of her mouth quirked, threatening a tiny smile.

The two looked at one another for a long moment. K'ta'la knew he could see the tracks of the tears on her cheeks, and her high color, and she appreciated his not swooping in to offer some useless platitudes. All he did in recognition of her state of mind was to quietly hand her a large soft handkerchief. She was grateful to him for this.

"You know, you strike me as a lady who likes to get straight down to business," the bounty hunter commented almost offhandedly.

She nodded again. Was she really this open? Or, burning so brightly in the force, was he reading her so well? It was probably a little of both.

"Two in a row. Haven't had a hot streak like that in a while," the bounty hunter smiled. "Well now, my name is not Bounty Hunter. My name is Jango Fett." Very slowly, he extended a hand towards her. "Now what do I call you? Master Jedi? Young Master Jedi? All Mighty Grand Master Jedi, maybe?"

This time, K'ta'la had to look away fast and clamp her lips together hard to stop from not only smiling but laughing out loud. He's trying to charm me, she thought with sudden realization. What disturbed her was not that fact, It was not even that he was using the force and not even realizing he was using the force in his voice. Such untapped and unshaped talent! What a waste! What a strong Jedi Master this man might have made. But he just might charm her if she let him.

She squared her small shoulders a bit.

"My name is K'ta'la Ris," she told him as solemnly as she could manage. Since he was still holding out his empty open hand so insistently, but not making a move towards her otherwise, she reluctantly placed her hand in his much larger one.

"That's an awfully pretty name, All Mighty Grand Master K'ta'la Ris," the bounty hunter called Jango Fett said, completely deadpan. "But it's a bit of a mouthful. I mean, if we're in a dangerous situation, one of us will be dead by the time I get all that out. And Hey Jedi Girl is much too rude. How about Kate? I bet your friends called you Kate, don't they?"

Well, only her closest friends called her Kate. In truth, she hated that name. But it could be worse. He might want to call her Katie. And since the man was making a concerted effort to meet her halfway, so she decided to go along to get along ... For now.

"Okay, Bounty Hunter Fett."

"Jango," he corrected gently, still enfolding her little hand in his warm strong grip. It irritated her how comforting she found that grip. "If I'm going to call you Kate, you can call me Jango."

"Very well, Jango," K'ta'la tried out his suggestion. It was certainly more friendly than calling him bounty hunter all the time.

Jango gave her hand a gentle shake. Then, he released her and got to his feet.

"You know what I think, Kate? I think we might just survive this adventure together after all," Jango grinned at her.  "Come to the cockpit when you feel up to it, alright."

He started to leave.

"Bounty ...I mean, Jango?" the little girl called after him.

"Yeah," he turned back with an inquisitive look.

"Thank you," K'ta'la said simply

"I'm just following your late master's request," he said simply.

But she shook her head. Then, she reached behind her and held out one of the long golden braids the man had obviously made for her.

"Oh, that," Jango spread his hands in a careless manner. "It was the best I could do in a pinch. I don't know what the fashionable little Jedi girl does with her hair these days."

The little Jedi girl let herself give him a more genuine smile. Maybe it would help ease that terrible pain and darkness she felt flare in him each time he even said the word Jedi.

"It's lovely," she told him truthfully. "You do a better job than many at the temp ... I mean, many back home."

The man only shrugged. Apparently, he was not comfortable being praised. K'ta'la tucked that little bit of knowledge about him away, and quietly followed him to the cockpit of Slave I.