Helpless Devotion

Night fell hours ago. Only a thin sliver of moonlight through a high window lets Dia see his surroundings. It seems as though the whole palace has gone to sleep; the guards have long since shuffled off after their final round.

Near midnight, two shadows creep down the hallway, approaching the cell door. The slaves press against the bars, murmuring in excitement. Wide-eyed, Dia watches the masked figures crouch by the cell door, watches the arms of the slaves straining through the bars to grasp at their saviours.

"Yomu," one of the newcomers, a Gran, whispers, three eyes blinking in sync. "Has everything gone to plan?"

"Yes." The slaves make way for Yomu to kneel at the cell door and confer with her allies. "There are seven of us. Two children."

The third member of the White Suns moves their hands in some form of sign language. Yomu and the Gran nod.

"Everyone stay silent," Yomu warns.

Dia squints to make out what's happening through the darkness, and hears a quiet clicking as Yomu's colleagues pick the cell lock. With a painfully loud screech, the cell door swings open. Yomu ushers everyone out. They creep up the stone steps, through several rooms and floors, all dark and quiet.

Dia barely breathes. Every time they turn a corner or reach the top of a flight of stairs, he expects a guard to discover them and raise the alarm.

Unbelievably, they reach a back exit undetected. The White Sun operatives dart outside to check that the coast is clear, then motion to everyone else to follow them.

Outside, Dia takes a deep breath of the chilly air, shivering.

Did it work? Did we make it? He can hardly believe it.

The Gran points to a transport, half-hidden behind a high sand dune, and motions for everyone to follow. Dia steps forward.

"SLAVES ESCAPING!"

The cry echoes from inside.

Lights immediately flick on, followed by shouting. Dia freezes and looks back at the palace, his heart seizing up.

"Come on!" the Gran shouts.

Alarms begin to wail, defeaning.

The slaves race across the sand, tripping and falling, scrambling to their feet, desperate to reach the transport.

"Go!" Yomu cries, drawing a blaster from her belt. She pushes Dia forward. "Run!"

Dia runs. The sand slips and slides beneath his feet, nearly sending him tumbling. Blasters thrum behind him, casting everything in blue light. Beside him, a slave crumples to the ground, crying in fear.

Terror courses through Dia. He sprints for the transport. More shadows move around him – he's not alone. He catches sight of pink-orange lekku in the light of a blaster bolt, and relief pushes his feet faster.

The transport's engines start. Dia is close now.

Come on, come on! Nearly there!

His lungs burn and his feet sting, but he's meters from the transport. Its doors begin to close.

"WAIT!" he screams.

Garsa appears at the doorway. She throws her arm out, and Dia catches it. She roughly hoists him inside, seconds before the doors slide shut.

Dia collapses on the metal floor, gasping for breath. The transport lifts off, unsteadily but quickly, and the alarms fade away. Garsa clutches Dia's hand.

"I was so scared," she mumbles. 

They lost two, Dia counts. Four other people, plus Yomu, sit in the cramped belly of the transport. Her associates are in the cockpit, flying the transport to safety.

"Did… did we really make it?" Dia barely dares to whisper.

Yomu crouches in front of them, smiling gently. "We made it. You're free."

Tears spill over Dia's cheeks, then, along with an elated smile. Free. I'm free.

_______

The transport stops on the outskirts of Mos Eisley before sunrise. The freed beings are divided, sent to different moisture farms, where they'll be de-chipped and freed for good.

Garsa and Dia embrace quickly before Garsa leaves with her guard.

"I hope we meet again," she whispers.

"I'm sure we will," Dia assures her.

He watches until his friend's speederbike has disappeared to the east in a cloud of sand, then he's assigned his own guard, and sets off after thanking Yomu.

The sun has barely risen by the time they skid into Anchorhead. Dia's guard hops off the speederbike and helps Dia down. They've stopped in a quiet street; all the doors are closed, and no one walks by.

"I'll go ditch this speederbike and find us new transport," they say. "You wait here."

The guard pushes the speederbike towards a mechanic's hangar while Dia perches on a barrel, half-concealed from the street by a stack of crates. Every distant sound makes him jump, and he expects every second that the bomb inside him will be set off. Yomu had assured him and the others that Jabba would try to recapture them, that the bomb would be a last resort. Still, they should hurry and get the chips removed.

 Footsteps crunch softly on the sandy street. Dia freezes. The approaching person is hidden by the stack of crates to his right.

Is it the White Suns guard? Or a bounty hunter?

He has no time to react before the footsteps have reached him and passed the stack of crates. Their eyes meet and widen at the same second.

"Boba!"

"Dia?!"

Launching himself from the barrel, Dia throws his arms around Boba. "You're alright!"

Boba stiffens, and doesn't return the hug. Dia lets go.

"What happened after I was knocked out?" he asks, studying Boba's face. A new cut is healing on his cheek. "Did Bane – "

"He left." Boba doesn't meet Dia's eyes.

Why is he acting so strange? Dia wonders.

"He's already forgotten all about you."

His heart skips. Oh.

They're in Anchorhead, kilometers from Jabba's Palace. Boba hadn't come to save him. He hadn't even tried.

Dia draws back, hurt. Boba notices, and finally meets his eyes. His expression is pained, and he opens his mouth to speak.

A shadow appears behind him, and suddenly he's toppling forwards.

"Whoa!" Dia barely catches him in time, and staggers under the sudden weight. He looks up to find the White Suns guard glowering down at Boba. "Wait! He's my f– He's… he's not an enemy."

The guard raises an eyebrow. "We either kill him or bring him with us. No one can know you were here."

"Bring him with us," Dia says instantly. "Please."

"Alright," the guard agrees with a shrug. They crouch and hoist Boba over their shoulder.

Dia follows them to an orange landspeeder, and clambers into the back to sit beside Boba, still unconscious. The guard hops into the driver's seat and sets off. They soon leave Anchorhead behind.

As they pass by Tosche Station, Boba wakes. Immediately, he jumps for a weapon, but Dia catches his arm.

"It's okay! You're alright, Boba, don't worry."

Boba calms down, but pulls his arm away. "Where are you taking me?"

"We're going to a moisture farm, where my bomb chip can be removed." Dia tries for a smile. "I'll finally be freed."

"Oh." Boba's expression softens. "I'm glad."

"…Thanks."

They sit in tense silence for a long while, before Dia clears his throat and asks,

"Why didn't you try to… ? I mean… I thought you would try to free me." He tries to keep his tone even.

"Why? We're not friends," Boba mutters, looking away.

Dia's stomach drops. Not friends?

"I was only ever using you." Boba's head is turned, his chin propped on his hand and his hair fluttering in the breeze.

"He only let you stick around 'cause you were useful to him." Bane's words echo painfully in his head.

"I'm still useful to you." The words spill from Dia's mouth before he thinks, but he won't take them back.

Boba snaps his head around with a startled expression.

"I swore a life debt to you," Dia continues fervently, shifting closer to him. "I'll help you with your revenge, with any goal you have. I swear it." He holds Boba's wide-eyed gaze as he recites the old phrase in his native language: "On my life, I devote myself to you."

If we can't be friends, he thinks, that's alright. I just want to be close to him. So I'll do everything I can to be useful to him, so he lets me stay.

It hurts, of course it does, that Boba doesn't feel the same affection. But Dia knows the worse fate would be to leave Boba's side. Five months together, and he's never felt so close to anyone. He can't let him go.