The Fight to Survive (5 page)

Two men were with him. One of them was a Geonosian, wearing the elaborate finery of a high official over its branchlike body and barrel-shaped head. The other was more simply dressed, but
somehow familiar.

“And so you see, Count Dooku, we have made great progress,” said the Geonosian.

It was the
Count
that did it. Boba recognized the other man. “Isn’t that Count Tyranus?” Boba asked his father, who was hanging up his battle helmet beside the
door.

“Sssshhhhh,” said Jango. “We are the only ones who know him by that name.”

“Ah, so this is the young one?” the Count said. “You’ll be a great bounty hunter someday.”

He patted Boba on the head. The gesture was affectionate but the hand was cold, and Boba felt a chill.

“Yes, sir,” he said, pulling away.

His father shot him a stern, disapproving look as the three men walked into the apartment’s kitchen for their conference.

Boba felt ashamed. He had been rude. The chill must have been his imagination. Count Tyranus was Jango Fett’s main employer. Boba owed him not only respect, but trust.

You’ll be a great bounty hunter someday
. The Count’s words rang in Boba’s head. He hoped someday they would come true.

His father’s battle helmet was hanging by the door. Boba took it down and carried it into the bedroom.

He wanted to see what it looked like from inside. He wanted to feel how it felt to be Jango Fett.

He shut the door behind him and pulled the helmet over his head. He opened his eyes and—

“Wow!”

Boba had expected it to be dark inside the helmet, but it wasn’t. There were all sorts of displays scrolling down the inside of the faceplate. Most of them were for weapons and survival
systems:

It was like being in the control room of a very small, compact, efficient ship. But it was too heavy. Boba could hardly move his head. He was just lifting it off when—

Click.

Boba heard the bedroom door open. Uh-oh. Now he was in big trouble!

But no—Jango Fett was laughing as he lifted the helmet off Boba’s head. “Don’t worry, son, your own armor will fit you better.”

Boba looked up into his father’s eyes. “My own?”

“When you are older,” Jango said. “This battle armor was given to me by the Mandalores. You will have your own someday, when you become a bounty hunter.”

“And you will teach me to use it?” Boba asked.

“When that day comes, I may not be there,” Jango said. “You may be on your own.”

“But…”

“No buts,” said Jango. He attempted a smile. “Don’t worry. Your time is yet to come.”

He reached out and patted Boba on the head.

This time, there was no chill.

Later that night, Boba heard a strange noise. It was not the booming he had heard before. It was not his father’s snores, which came from the next bed.

OOWOOOO!

It was something far away and incredibly lonely.

He went to the narrow window and looked out. The night on Geonosis was as bright as day had been on cloudy Kamino. The planet’s orange rings shed a soft light over the desert sands.

There was a red mesa right below the stalagmite city. It was crisscrossed with faint trails that glittered, as if they were paved with diamonds.

The mesa looked interesting but it was strictly off-limits. Jango Fett had said that there were fierce beasts called massiffs that prowled the rocks and cliffs.

OOWOOOO!

There it was again—that lonesome, mournful howl.
A massiff
, thought Boba. It sounded more forlorn than fierce.

He knew the feeling.

He wanted to howl back.

When Boba woke up, his father was gone. On the table there was breakfast and a note:
Be here when I get back.

Boba was out the door.

He heard the distant booming but he went the other way, down to the landing platform.
Slave I
was no longer the only starship. It looked tiny compared to the others, which came in all
shapes and sizes, but were mostly bigger.

Boba made sure no one was looking, then climbed up the ramp into the cockpit of
Slave I
. The seat was a little low, but other than that, it felt right. He had already memorized the
flight controls for both space and atmosphere. He already knew the weapons systems, the multiple lasers and torpedoes. His dad had taught him most of it, and he had figured out the rest for
himself.

Boba knew how to start the ship, program the navcomputer, and engage the hyperdrive. He was sure that before long his father would let him try a complete takeoff and landing. He wanted to be
ready.

He imagined he was piloting the ship while his father was mowing down his enemies with the laser.

“
Beware the wrath of the Fetts!
” he cried in triumph as he zigged and zagged through the enemy fighters….

“Hey—”

Boba sat up—he must have fallen asleep! He must have been dreaming.

“Hey, kid!”

It was a Geonosian guard.

“It’s okay,” Boba said. “It’s my dad’s ship.”

He got out of
Slave I
and closed the ramp.

The Geonosian had a stupid but amiable expression.

“How come there’s nothing to do around here?” Boba asked, just to be friendly.

The Geonosian guard smiled and twirled his blaster. “Oh, plenty to do!” he said. “There’s arena! Really cool!”

“What happens in the arena?”

“Kill things!” said the Geonosian.

Interesting
, thought Boba. It was something to do. “Every day?” he asked eagerly.

“Oh, no,” said the Geonosian. “Only special occasions.”

Rules.

Rules are made to be broken.

That was
not
part of Jango Fett’s code.
But it is part of the Kids’ Code
, thought Boba.
Anyway, it oughta be.

Boba was making excuses. He was getting ready to break his father’s Off-Limits Rule.

He was preparing to slip out of the stalagmite city, to the red mesa.

He was trying to pretend it was all right, that it was something he had to do.

He was looking for adventure.

And he was about to find it.

The first part was easy.

The main door to the stalagmite city was on ground level, down below the landing pad. It was guarded by a drowsy Geonosian sentry, whose job was to watch for intruders, not escapees.

It was easy to slip past him.

As soon as he breathed the outside air, Boba realized how much he hated the musty smell of the stalagmite city. It was great to be outside!

He wanted to explore the glittering trails he had seen from above. He followed the first one he saw. It led down the side of the red rock mesa. The glitter was chips of mica—rock as smooth
and shiny as glass that marked the trail and made it easy to follow.

Boba was just rounding a corner on a steep cliff when he heard a scream.

Then a growling noise.

He stopped—then proceeded more cautiously, step by step.

On the narrow trail ahead, two spike-backed beasts were fighting. They were growling, each pulling at one end of what looked like a furry rope.

The rope was hissing in a high-pitched tone.

The rope was a ten-foot snake, covered with fur. Its mouth and eyes were in the center of its long, furry body.

The lizards, which Boba assumed were the dreaded massiffs, were about to tear it in half with their long, razor-sharp teeth.

Then they saw Boba—and dropped the snake.

Boba backed up one step.

The massiffs both moved forward one step. Growling.

Boba backed up another step. The cliff was to his right. To his left, and behind him—nothing but air.

The massiffs moved forward again. Two steps this time.

Snarling.

Boba kept his stare locked on the massiffs’ red eyes. He felt that if he looked away for even an instant, they would charge.

They moved forward again, side by side.

Boba knelt down and, feeling with one hand, picked up a slice of mica. Without looking, he tested it with his fingers. It was as sharp as a knife.

Suddenly he jumped up and threw it, spinning, toward the massiff on the right.

YELP!

A hit! But the other massiff was in the air, leaping toward Boba. He heard a snarl, and felt hot breath on his face, and ducked his head, and…

OOWOOOO!

The massiff missed him and flew off the cliff, howling as it fell toward the jagged rocks below.

Boba straightened up.

The other massiff was bleeding over one red eye. It was backing up, slinking away….

Then it turned and ran.

The snake lay on the trail, nursing its wounds.

Boba’s heart was pounding.

Maybe breaking the rules is not such a good idea
, he thought. He was lucky to be alive.

He considered turning back—but decided that would be pointless. He was already halfway around the mesa. So he stepped over the dazed snake and continued on the path.

He had seen the path from above. He knew it would lead back to the entrance. He would sneak back in, and his father would never know he had been outside.

Then he heard something behind him. Something on the path.

The wounded massiff?

Boba felt a sudden chill. He looked back over his shoulder. It was the snake.

It was slithering along after him.

Boba stopped.

The snake stopped.

Its mouth in the middle of its body was smiling—at least it seemed to be smiling. And it was singing, a sort of rushing sound, like water falling. It sounded strange out here in the
desert. It reminded Boba of the rain on Kamino, or the waves.

“Go away,” said Boba.

The snake kept singing. It slithered a little closer.

Boba backed up. “Go away!”

The snake slithered still closer. Boba picked up a rock—a sharp piece of mica.

“Go away.”

The snake looked sad. It stopped singing. It slithered away into the rocks.

Boba was making his way up the path, toward the top of the mesa, when he saw something strange.

There, on a flat ledge under a cliff on the side of the mesa, was a small ship. A starship.

A Delta-7! Could it be...?

Just then Boba heard someone—or something—behind him on the trail.

He ducked behind a rock just in time.

The man who hurried past him along the trail was as familiar as the starship. As familiar, and as unwelcome.

It was the Jedi who had pursued them through the asteroid rings. The Jedi the torpedo had blasted. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Back again!

Boba watched from behind his rock as the Jedi opened his starfighter’s hatch and climbed into the cockpit. Boba thought he was about to take off, but he didn’t bother to close the
hatch.

Whatever the Jedi was up to, Boba knew it was no good. He had to stop him. But how?

From where he was hiding, Boba could see over the rim of the mesa, all the way to the entrance to the stalagmite city. There was the drowsy Geonosian sentry he had slipped
past.

The Jedi’s starship was hidden from the sentry—but Boba wasn’t.

But how could Boba raise an alert?

Boba picked up the biggest piece of mica he could find and wiped it on his sleeve until it shined like glass. Then he used it to reflect the light from Geonosis’s sun, which was just
peeping over the rings. He tilted the mica slab back and forth until he could see a flash of light across the sentry’s eyes.

Then he did it again. And again.

Had the sentry seen it?

He had! He was coming down the path, toward the mesa’s edge. Boba couldn’t risk being seen, so he left the trail and scrambled up a steep ledge to the top of the mesa. When he got to
the top of the mesa, he saw the Geonosian guard at the edge of the cliff, looking down. Boba knew he had sighted the Jedi starfighter, because he was talking excitedly on his comm.

Success! Or so it seemed. Boba ran toward the base of the tower—then skidded to a stop.

The gate was closed. He was stuck outside. How could he get inside without being discovered?

Then he got lucky again. The gate suddenly swung open and out came a squad of droidekas. They were in such a hurry to capture the Jedi that they didn’t notice Boba, flattened against the
rock wall.

He was able to slip through the door just before it closed behind the droidekas.

Safe! Boba was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when he felt a strong metal gauntlet on his shoulder. It felt gentle, yet stern.

“Where you heading, son?” asked Jango Fett. “Where have you been?”

“Uh, outside. Sir.”

“Come upstairs. We need to talk.”

Boba followed his father up the stairs and into the apartment. There was nothing he could say. There was nothing he could do. He was found out, and he knew it.

He sat down on the couch and watched while his father took off his battle armor and laid it carefully on the floor.

“Another adventure?” Jango Fett asked with a slight smile as he brewed himself a cup of nasty Geonosian grub-tea.

“I’m really sorry,” Boba said. “Really really sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” his father asked.

“Disobeying you.”

“And that’s all?”

“I-I guess,” Boba said.

“What about lying to me?”

“I didn’t lie,” said Boba. “I admitted I was outside.”

His father’s smile was gone. “Only because you were caught. If you hadn’t been…”

“I guess I would have,” said Boba. “I’m sorry for that, too.”

“I accept your apology, then,” said Jango. “As a punishment you are confined to quarters until I say otherwise.”

“Yes, sir.” Boba breathed a sigh of relief. Confined to quarters meant grounded; it meant he had to stay in the apartment. It wasn’t as bad as he had expected.

“It would be worse,” said Jango Fett, “except that I owe you one.”