The Fight to Survive (12 page)

Boba put his flight bag on the floor and sat on a bar stool.

“No kids allowed!” said Mercador, wringing out the rag and tossing it onto the bar. “And that means you!”

“I’m not a customer,” said Boba. “I’m not looking for a drink. I’m looking for a—uh, relative. Named Dooku.”

The bartender’s face brightened. “Dooku!” He looked at Boba with new interest. “Dooku. Oh, yes, of course. Absolutely. He’s a good friend of mine. Let me give him a
call.”

Mercador started punching numbers into a comm unit. “Dooku? Is that you?” he said. “Somebody here to see you.” Static came up on the comm screen behind the bar, as if it
were a long-distance planet-to-planet call. The bartender smiled at Boba. “How about a juice while you are waiting?”

“I don’t exactly have any money,” said Boba.

“It’s okay,” said the bartender, wiping the bar with one hand and filling a mug with two others. “It’s on the house!”

The juice was cold and tasted great. Boba could hardly believe his luck. He had only been in Coruscant for an hour or so, and already he had met a friendly bartender who actually
knew
Tyranus (excuse me, Dooku!), and now he was drinking a free juice!

Suddenly he remembered the black book:
Watch out for things that go too well
. Could it be that—?

The static on the comm screen went away, and Boba saw two familiar faces. Neither was Tyranus. The one on the right was the Diollan; the one on the left was the Rodian. The two bounty hunters
from the moons of Bogden.

“That’s him!” said the Rodian. “Grab him! You can bring him to the Jedi for the reward.” Boba tried to slide down off the stool and run. But it was too late. Strong
hands grabbed his right arm.

And his left arm.

And his left leg.

And his right leg.

Nan Mercador came out from behind the bar and lifted him off the stool, into the air.

“Hey!” Boba yelled. “Let me go!”

“Not a chance,” said the bartender, holding Boba over his head. “You’re worth money!”

“This is a mistake!” Boba said.

“No mistake, kid,” said the Rodian on the comm screen.

“You’re bounty,” added the Diollan.

“The Jedi know you’re coming,” said the Diollan to Mercador.

“They will give you your share in cash,” said the Rodian.

“I should get half,” said the bartender as he started toward the door holding Boba over his head with all four arms. “I saved you both the trouble of coming here.”

“Too late for that,” said the Rodian.

“It’s already been arranged,” said the Diollan as they hung up.

The screen went black.

Think fast
, thought Boba, squirming and kicking helplessly near the ceiling.
And if that doesn’t work, think faster!
He stopped squirming. “Don’t be a
fool,” he said. “Count Dooku will pay twice as much as the Jedi. And you won’t have to split it with anybody.”

“I won’t?” Nan Mercador stopped. But he didn’t let go of Boba. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” said Boba. “Set me down, and I will call him myself. You can ask him.”

“You must think I’m a dope,” said Mercador, still holding Boba so high above his head that he almost scraped the ceiling. “Besides, you don’t know his number. You
asked me to find him, remember?”

“I was just testing you,” said Boba, looking at the ceiling light near his left foot. It was only centimeters away. “But you don’t have to believe me. You can call him
yourself. The number is…”

He rattled off a string of numbers, hoping they would sound right. Apparently they did. The bartender let go of Boba’s left foot and began punching them into the comm unit on the bar.

Boba was ready to move. As soon as his foot was free, he kicked the light as hard as he could.

CRASH!
It shattered, showering glass down onto the bar, the stools, the floor….

Mercador lifted his hands to protect his head from the falling glass. Boba fell, straight down, headfirst. At the last moment he managed to twist in the air like a diver and land on his feet. He
scrambled toward the door, which slid open—

And revealed two gleaming boots, blocking his way. Above them were two shapely legs. And above them—

It was a woman, holding a vicious-looking blaster. She grabbed Boba’s arm with one hand. She raised the other hand and fired.

ZZZ-AAA-PPP!

The bartender howled with pain and sat down on the floor in the middle of the broken glass.

“It’s set on stun,” she said. “But one false move and it goes to kill.”

“Cool,” said Boba, looking up at his rescuer. She looked dangerous. That made her even more beautiful to him. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Aurra Sing,” she said. “But never mind that. Let’s get out of here.”

Boba didn’t have to be asked twice. He grabbed his flight bag and followed her out onto the street, toward a parked hovercraft that was idling quietly on the narrow street.

“Bounty hunters,” he explained breathlessly. “They betrayed me. I never should have trusted them!”

“Bounty hunters can always be trusted,” Aurra Sing said. “Trusted to do what they are paid to do.” She opened the door of the hovercraft. “I know, because I am a
bounty hunter myself. Get in, young Boba Fett.”

“You know my name?”

“Of course. The bounty hunter always knows the bounty’s name.”

Boba backed up, ready to run.

“Get in!” Aurra Sing patted the blaster in the gleaming holster that matched her boots. “It’s very painful, even set on stun. Don’t make me try it on
you.”

Boba gave up and got in. He groaned as the hovercraft lifted off. He’d thought he had been rescued. Instead, he had been captured again!

As the hovercraft rose higher and higher, winding through the towers and hanging gardens of Coruscant, Boba sat back in his seat and sulked, disgusted with himself.

“Watch out when things go too well.” I should have known better
, he thought.
I will never trust anybody ever again!

He was surprised when Aurra Sing landed the hovercraft at the spaceport, right next to
Slave I
.

“Aren’t you taking me to the Jedi?” he asked. “I thought you were a bounty hunter.”

“I am,” she said. “But I would never work for the Jedi. My client lives on another planet altogether. That’s why we are taking your ship. You can fly it, can’t
you?”

“What if I say no?”

She patted her blaster again.

Boba opened the ramp and checked out
Slave I
’s systems. To his surprise, Aurra Sing paid off the landing fees, and even tipped the droid.

“Low orbit first,” she said. “Then hyperspace. And no funny business. I’m not known for my sense of humor.”

“No kidding,” Boba said under his breath. Then he asked, “Do you mind telling me who put out a bounty on me, and where we’re going?”

“You’ll find out the
who
soon enough,” she said. “The
where
is an outer rim world called Raxus Prime.”

“Excuse me? I must have heard you wrong. I thought you said Raxus Prime.”

“You heard right.”

“But—that’s a seriously uninhabitable planet.”

“I know. And we’re late. So drop us into hyperspace, and let’s go.”

Boba had read about Raxus Prime, but he had never seen it, not even in pictures. Few had. Who would want to?

Raxus Prime was the most toxic planet in the galaxy. It was the dump for all the debris and detritus of a thousand civilizations.

It didn’t look so bad from a distance.
Sort of like Kamino
, Boba thought, as he dropped out of hyperspace, into orbit. It was all clouds. Beautiful, swirling clouds, all tinged
with scarlet, green, and yellow.

But as
Slave I
descended through the clouds, Boba saw that they were actually made of smoke and steam and toxic gas. The smell was so bad that it even penetrated the ship’s
systems. The stink was terrible but the colors were beautiful as
Slave I
crossed the line from the dark side of the planet into the light.

Pollution makes for great sunrises.

The smell didn’t seem to bother Aurra Sing. Nothing seemed to bother her. “Fly slow and low,” she said. It was the first thing she had said in hours. The entire trip from
Coruscant had been silent.

That suited Boba fine. He had nothing to say to her, either. She was not his ally but his adversary.

As
Slave I
dropped lower, Boba saw the surface of Raxus Prime for the first time. It was covered with rubble, trash, junk, and garbage, piled in huge twisted heaps and rows like
grotesque mountain ranges. Rusted, busted starships, scorched weaponry, mangled machinery, gobs and stacks of glass and steel lay half buried under heaps of slag. And all of it oozed and steamed
and smoked, fouling the air above and the water below.

Though it all looked dead, it was alive. Boba saw tiny brown-robed creatures scurrying through the oily wasteland. He saw birds the color of dirt, like smears against the sky. There were no
cities, but every few kilometers a smokestack belching fumes marked the site of a refinery or recycling plant, run by scurrying oil-smeared droids.

“Slower, kid.”

Aurra Sing consulted a code on her wristwatch. “It should be along here somewhere. Look for a lopsided hill and a lake—there it is!”

The “hill” was a heap of foul refuse a thousand meters high. Twisted, leafless, mutant trees grew from its ravaged slopes, fed by the continual rain that oozed from the stinking
clouds.

The “lake” was a pool of iridescent liquid the color of bile. Following Aurra Sing’s instructions, Boba set the ship down on a flat spot between the lake and the base of the
hill.

“Don’t shut it off.”

“Huh?”

“The ship. Leave it running. I’m getting out of here. You’re staying. This is it.”

“You can’t leave me here! You can’t steal my ship!” said Boba.

“Who says? The ship is my pay,” said Aurra Sing. She opened the hatch and lowered the ramp. “There is a door in the side of the hill. As soon as I leave, it will open for you.
My client is waiting for you inside. Don’t forget your flight bag.”

She tossed it out, onto the stinking, steaming “ground.” Boba ran after it. She closed the ramp behind him.

“You can’t just leave me here!” Boba yelled, banging on the hull of the ship. “I’ll run away!”

“Look around—I don’t think so!” she yelled back. “I’m gone. Good luck, Boba Fett. I hope you can live up to your father’s reputation. He was the genuine
article. Who knows, maybe someday you will be, too. I liked the way you handled that bartender.”

Boba could hardly believe it. She had rescued him, then betrayed him, then robbed him, and then complimented him! And now she was about to leave him alone on the foulest planet in the galaxy. He
banged on the hatch in a rage, but instead of opening, it sealed with a hiss.

He felt truly alone now. There was no one he could trust.

Slave I
’s engines whined. Boba knew that sound. He stepped back, out of the way. He watched helplessly as the starship—
his
starship!—rose into the noxious
clouds and disappeared.

Once again, he felt dangerously close to tears. At the same time, he could barely breathe. Suddenly, he heard a sound behind him.

He turned. A door in the hillside was sliding open. Inside, Boba could see a brightly lighted hall, leading to a carpeted stairway.

Boba didn’t wait to be invited. Coughing and gagging, he ran inside.

Now what?
Boba thought as the door slid shut.

Before he had a chance to answer his own question, he heard a voice behind him. “Welcome to Raxus Prime, Boba Fett.”

The voice was familiar. So were the lean, lined face and the hawklike eyes.

“Count Tyranus! I mean, Count Dooku!”

“You are among friends now, Boba,” said the Count. “You can call me anything you please. Count will do.”

“My father told me to find you,” said Boba.

“And I made sure it happened,” said the Count. “I see that Aurra Sing did a superb job and delivered you here safely.”

“Yes, sir,” said Boba. “I mean, no, sir. You see, she stole my ship, and it’s…”

The Count smiled and raised his hand. “Don’t worry. Your ship is safe. Everything will be fine from now on. You must be very tired.”

Boba nodded. It was true.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” said the Count, placing his cold hand on Boba’s head. “Come, let me show you to your room. Let me carry your bag.”

Boba followed him up the long stairs. The carpets were deep and soft. Who would have imagined that there was such an elegant palace on the planet of garbage? Even the air was sweet. There was
only a very faint foul smell from the planet outside.

“I have big plans for you, Boba,” said the Count. “Plans that would have made your father proud. But first you need to rest. You must be tired after all your
travels.”

Boba nodded. He had packed a lot of adventures into just a few days. The escape from the Jedi starfighter on Geonosis, the escape from the Jedi woman back on Kamino, the recovery of his ship and
the robbery gone wrong on the moons of Bogden, the struggle with the bartender on Coruscant…

He had lost the ship, but he would get it back. The Count had promised, hadn’t he? Something like that.

A lot of stuff for a ten-year-old, he realized. He
was
tired. But he was also confused. He knew he should be happy. He had been lucky. He had completed the first part of his quest. He
had found Tyranus. Now he would find Wisdom.

So why had he felt a cold chill when the Count put his hand on top of his head?

Probably just nerves
, Boba thought as he followed the Count up the stairs, toward his room.

And his unknown future.