As The Twin Suns Rise

A binary star system: "in which two stars orbit around a common centre of mass, gravitationally bound to each other."

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It all began by nothing more than chance: a stray piece of debris in the asteroid field that hit the Slave I's stabilizer fin and left it smoking all the way down to Geonosis.

Warnings, loud and bright red, flashed on the display. Boba glanced nervously at his father as his hands gripped the armrests of his chair.

"It's okay, ad'ika," Jango assured him with a quick smile, swiping through the display to stabilize the ship. "We'll fix it when we land."

Boba stared at his father, the calm, reassuring pillar he could always rely on, and relaxed. He thought, Buir says it'll be okay, so it will.

But when they landed, County Dooku summoned Jango immediately, and they only had time for temporary repairs before the Jedi arrived in a swarm.

The ship's damage, along with everything else, was driven out of Boba's mind entirely as he watched a Jedi slice off his father's head with a flash of purple and a glint of silver beskar.

Afterwards, when everyone was gone and Boba was alone in the arena and the world, he'd dragged his father's body to a secluded cave, buried him in the sandy dirt, and sobbed over his simple headstone as he swore revenge on his father's murderer.

He'd taken his father's armour, and carried the pieces in his arms back to the ship. He'd been in no state of mind to think about the ship's damage: all he could focus on was the grief dragging him down like stones in his stomach and the newly-lit flame of revenge in his heart.

It wasn't until he was hurtling towards sand dunes, alarms deafening him with their wailing, that he realized how much osik he was in.

---

Outside Mos Eisley, Tatooine, 22 BBY – the same day as the First Battle of Geonosis

A light wind tugs at Dia's poncho as he tightens a bolt in the vaporator's side panel, sticking his tongue out in concentration.

"Be careful up there, Dia!" Elan calls anxiously from the ground.

"I'm fine!" Dia yells back, not taking his eyes off his task.

Dia is perched on a thin rail at the very top of the thirty-foot tall motion detector, fixing a loose panel. He finishes tightening the last bolt, and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

If he stays up here a few more minutes, it will be longer until he's given another chore. The child loops his arms around the rail and tilts his head back, letting the breeze ruffle his curled hair.

The suns are just rising over the sand dunes, painting the sky a lovely orange that chases away the darkness of the night sky, making way for the pale blue of the morning. Dia holds these moments of peace close to his chest: they help him get through the rest of the time.

A shadow seems to pass over Dia's face, and he opens his eyes to see ship hurtling shakily through the air far above him, its engine stuttering as though on its last breaths. He watches open-mouthed as the ship wobbles towards the ground, then disappears past the distant sand dunes.

After hastily checking over the vaporator again, Dia clambers down the pole as fast as he can. Elan yelps in protest and covers his eyes fearfully, his pointed ears twitching.

When Dia's boots hit the sand, he grabs Elan's pale grey arm and stares up at the Er'kit with wide eyes.

"Did you recognize that ship, Elan? I've never seen one like that before!" He chatters quickly, excited for this change to his mundane life. "I'm gonna see what I can salvage!"

He turns on his heel and starts to run away, but Elan grabs a fistful of his red poncho and drags him back.

"No way!" Elan hisses. "You've got a hundred chores to finish. What will Purdulta say?"

"It'll be fine!" Dia waves his hand and grins. "She doesn't care enough to report everything back to Master. Besides, you'll cover for me, right?"

"Again? Dia, I don't think – "

"I'll be back before sundown, I promise."

Elan still hesitates, so Dia lowers his voice conspiratorially. "I'll let you have half of whatever I fiiiind…"

Elan's eyes glint hungrily. "Fine. Just hurry."

"Thank you!" Dia hugs Elan's waist, then runs off towards a small paddock, where three eopies wander in circles, bored out of their minds.

"And for kriff's sake, be careful!" Elan calls. "The pilot might still be alive!"

Dia leads two of the eopies out of the paddock with gentle encouragement. "Come on, let's go. Do you want some treats? You want some treats?"

As soon as one of the eopies is saddled and the other fitted with saddlebags, and both have eaten a few sprouts from Dia's pocket, Dia sets off towards the site of the crash at a steady canter. He rides one eopie and leads the other by its reins, to be used to carry anything Dia salvages. Once they've headed off, Dia pulls his tinted glasses over his eyes and ties a scarf over his mouth and nose, so he won't breathe in any sand.

It takes less time than expected to reach the crash. The suns have still not risen fully above the horizon when Dia reins in the eopies at the base of a sand dune. He dismounts, shushing the creatures, and crawls to the crest of the dune, peeking his head over to take in the scene below.

The ship seems to have landed with little structural damage, although it's currently little more than a metal skeleton. As Dia watches, even the hull is lifted and carried away by small, cloaked figures.

"Kriffin' Jawas," he mutters.

Even half-dismantled, the ship is unlike any Dia has seen before, and he's seen lots in Mos Eisley. But what really interests Dia are the half-dozen Jawas surrounding a young human, who's attempting to fend them off with a stick.

The Jawas' sandcrawler is stopped nearby, and most of the Jawas are dragging the ship inside the sandcrawler while the human is distracted by the others. Dia's almost tempted to keep watching the scavengers go hurtling through the air after being whacked, but he's worried more Jawas might overpower the human.

Besides, he thinks, I can hardly let those rotten scavengers take all the spoils.

Dia digs into his saddlebag and grabs a handful of firecrackers. He leaps to his feet and lets out a guttural cry, hurling the firecrackers to the ground in front of the Jawas.

The firecrackers explode with blinding flashes and defeaning crackles and whistles. In a panic, the Jawas scream and run through the billowing smoke to their sandcrawler, yelling at each other to hurry up with the ship.

Dia slides down the sand dune, plunges into the chaos, finds the human staggering blindly, and pulls him out of the cloud of smoke.

The boy struggles, but he's weak.

He's probably exhausted, Dia thinks as he pushes the other kid into the sand, sheltered behind a high dune.

"Let go of me!" the boy yells, trying to writhe away.

Dia slaps a hand over the human's mouth. "Shut up." He can hear the sandcrawler groaning away in the distance, and listens for a moment to make sure the Jawas are really gone.

Something wet touches his palm, and he rips his hand away from the boy's mouth. "Eeeugh! You licked my hand?!"

The boy pushes him away roughly, and Dia barely catches himself on his hands before he can land on his back.

"Who the kriff are you?" the boy demands. His skin is tanned, his dark hair is a mess, and he looks angry and ready to fight.

"Who the kriff are you?" Dia pushes himself to his knees, brushing sand off his red poncho. "You know, I saved your life back there. The least you could do is say thank you."

The boy tilts his chin up stubbornly, and Dia sighs. He pushes his goggles up, off his eyes and onto his head.

"I live on a moisture farm nearby. When I saw your ship crash, I figured I could get some good scrap from it, but the Jawas beat me to it." Dia holds his hands out. "Happy? Now it's your turn."

"I don't care. Leave me alone." The boy starts to push himself to his feet, but his arms shake, and he collapses back into the sand with a groan.

"Hey, calm down." Dia moves to sit beside him. This close, he can study the boy's face in more detail.

Tear tracks trace his cheeks. His eyes are a little unfocused, and blood drips down the side of his face, so he must have a head injury from the crash. His lips are dry and cracked.

Almost involuntarily, Dia unties his scarf and reaches out with it to wipe the blood from the boy's face. He twists away, and meets Dia's eyes with a fiery glare.

"Don't touch me," he snaps.

For some reason, Dia wants to know more about him.

"Sorry." He takes his canteen of water off his belt, pours a bit onto the scarf and offers both to the boy. "Here. Use this for the bleeding."

The boy warily takes the scarf, but refuses to take the water.

"You must be thirsty," Dia wheedles. "It's so dry and hot out here. Please drink. Dehydration's no joke out here."

The boy finally snatches the canteen and sniffs it distrustfully before taking a tentative sip.

"I'm Dia. What's your name?"

The boy hesitates, studying Dia. "I'm Boba."