"Isn't it ironic that one small boy should be the only one who knows such a
great secret?"
Prax didn't answer, of course. Boba wasn't sure what the "great
secret" was that he was supposed to know about. But the Count's remark gave
him an idea that he hoped just might save his life.
"What makes you think I'm the only one who knows?"
The Count raised his eyebrow - the most surprise Boba could imagine
the Count betraying. "What do you mean?"
"Just what I said," said Boba. He tried to keep his voice calm, cool,
Jango Fett-style. "I have already told someone else."
He had the Count's attention now... barely. "May I inquire who?" the
older man asked.
"That's my secret," Boba bluffed. "And she knows who to tell if
anything happens to me."
"She?" Boba could hear a slight undertow of uncertainty. "Might you be
insinuating the bounty hunter Aurra Sing?"
Boba was making it up as he went along. "I do mean Aurra Sing," he
said.
"Young fool. Are you threatening me?"
"No, sir. I simply want what is mine. My freedom - and my father's
credits."
"Freedom? Credits?" The Count's eyes blazed like cold fire. "I do not
bargain with children. Especially those who are a nuisance."
I went too far! Boba realized. His last chance was lost.
"Cydon Prax, you know what to do with him."
Boba knew it was useless to resist. He closed his eyes as Cydon Prax
picked him up. Boba dropped his helmet as his arms were pinned. His
father's voice came to him. If you must die, do so with valor. That is what
Jango Fett had done, fighting to the last moment.
The memory inspired Boba. He was done with pleading and pretending.
Whatever was coming, he would face it with the courage of the son of Jango
Fett.
Suddenly the Count raised his hand. For the first time, Boba saw
genuine concern cross his face. "What is it, sir?" Prax asked.
"The Jedi have found us," the Count answered. Boba strained to hear
something beyond the silence of the room. How did the Count know?
"Finish him off, then join me," the Count said tersely as his hand
seemed to instinctively find the curved lightsaber handle that glistened
beneath his cloak.
BAR-R000M! An explosion shook the floor.
Quickly picking up a holopad from his desk, the Count left the room.
As if on cue, a second explosion rocked the room. This one was closer.
Small rocks started to fall from the ceiling.
Cydon Prax hesitated for a moment and his grip on Boba loosened just a
little as he looked after his master. Boba saw his chance. He kicked out
with all his strength against the nearest wall. Prax was propelled
backward, into the desk. Boba's elbows slammed into him as they landed.
"You little..."
Prax's words were lost in a series of explosions outside. The floor
pitched up like the deck of a ship being tossed by a giant wave. The door
cracked and fell to the ground. The sound of blaster fire and confused
voices filled the air.
Boba lunged and twisted free from Prax's grip. He scooped up his
battle helmet from the floor where he had dropped it. And then he did what
his father had taught him to do whenever he was in a bad situation he
didn't expect to get any better.
He ran.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The once dim corridor was filled with light, and no wonder!
The Count's underground hideout had been blown wide open. Large parts
of the roof were missing, and Boba was standing on, top of a pile of
smoking rubble.
He looked up. The filthy Sky of Raxus Prime was even filthier than
usual. It was filled with explosions, blossoming like deadly flowers.
The noise was deafening. A battle was raging. Blaster fire screamed
past. The Count's automatic defense system was firing into the air rapid-
fire lasers filling the already smoky air with bursts and clouds of
brightly colored smoke.
Through the clouds, Boba saw the approaching gunships. They bore the
eight-spoked insignia of the Republic. The Count had been right - it was a
Jedi-led attack! Republic assault ships were unloading clone troopers in
their gleaming white battle armor. They fanned out in impressive military
order through the slag heaps, smashing the Count's defenses.
My brothers! Boba thought scornfully. His father had helped create the
clone troopers; the Kaminoans had used his dad's genetic material to make
millions of them. So why were they fighting on the side of the hated Jedi -
again?
Battle droids followed what Boba instantly recognized as GAT tanks,
closing in on the clone troopers from behind - until a Jedi on a speeder-
bike streaked over the horizon, mowing them down with deadly laser fire.
And here came what looked like a new kind of tank, its telltale red
markings signifying it belonged to the Jedi, lurching through the same
slimy ponds that Boba had survived.
Jedi gunships were closing in on the ruins that surrounded the crane
tower and the pit. One gunship dodged a missile's streak; another was hit
and spiraled down to crash unseen over the horizon.
Yes! Boba watched, fascinated. He hated both sides - the Jedi and the
Count. But he loved the action.
It was chaos, and it was just the diversion he needed to help him
escape. He looked down and saw his reflection in a puddle. His face was
streaked with dirt again, but he was grinning from ear to ear.
Anything was better than being the Count's prisoner. He was free!
Boba heard a noise behind him and turned just in time to see a huge
starship rise from the other end of the Count's hideout.
It was the Count, making his escape. Boba wondered if he had managed
to rescue the dark treasure that he had come to Raxus Prime to find.
Two Jedi starfighters raced over the horizon, zeroing in on the
Count's starship. The pursued and pursuers both vanished into the thick
clouds.
KABOOM!
KABOOM!
Even though the Count had fled, his defense system was still working.
It would keep firing until his slave droids were dead and the lasers ran
out of energy. Boba kept his head down as he crawled through the rubble,
looking for an opening that would lead back down into the hallways of the
abandoned hideout where he had to go to get his father's book.
Wearing his helmet for protection, Boba crawled through a smashed
opening in a wall. The hallways were choked with smoke and rubble. The
dust, the explosions, the noise, made everything difficult to see.
As he grasped his way through the abandoned corridor, Boba found that
he felt very little fear. He had escaped the worst fate imaginable, and now
he felt like a new man, or at least a new boy. What could happen to him
worse than what he had escaped?
He saw a familiar-looking door. His room!
There was his bed, turned on its side by an explosion. But where was
the flight bag that had been under it?
Frantically, Boba dug in the rubble with his hands until he felt the
familiar curve of a handle. He pulled, harder and ha
rder, until it came
free.
Safe! He threw the helmet into the bag and sealed it. With the
troopers around, it was best to keep Jango Fett's mask out of sight.
CHAPTER NINE
Boba crawled toward the Open air - and found himself face-to-face with
a squadron of clone troopers bursting through the wreckage. As soon as they
saw Boba, they leveled their blasters at him.
"Come with us," the trooper said, extending a white-gloved hand.
Boba wondered if the trooper knew who he was. The trooper soon
answered that question with his next words:
"Are you one of the orphans?"
"Uh, sure," Boba replied. He was an orphan, after all.
"Name of missing or deceased parents." "Oh, uh - Teff," said Boba
"Orphan Teff, age, please?"
"Ten."
"Under guidelines," said the clone trooper. "Follow me for food and
shelter."
Food and shelter? That didn't sound so bad. Boba didn't trust the
Jedi, but this clone trooper was not a Jedi, even though he was probably
working for them.
"Sure thing," said Boba, picking up his flight bag and noticing the
trooper's number - CT-4/ 619.
Explosions still rocked the building. Even though the Count had
escaped, the battle raged on. The Count's slave droids were continuing the
fight - and Boba was now caught in the crossfire.
The clone troopers paid little attention to the explosions as they
lifted their blasters to repel the super battle droids. For a split second,
Boba felt an echo of the past - the clone troopers' movements were almost
exactly the same as Jango Fett's. The way they held their blaster rifles.
The way their heads turned to take in the full scope of the battle. The
fierce stealth of their steps. He trained them as well as he trained me.
No, better.
Boba knew he had to snap out of these thoughts. The battle droids were
pushing forward against the troopers' ranks, relentlessly firing their
blasters. They had been programmed to kill or be destroyed. There would be
no surrender, no retreat.
They aimed their fire at the troopers and at the top of the rubble's
entrance. Boba dashed out into the open just as the doorway began to cave
in. The troopers inside died without a sound. The air was suddenly choked
with dust. The other troopers did not look back.
An eruption of blaster fire landed at Boba's feet. A close call. A
trooper at his side was knocked off his feet, crashing into the rubble. The
droids, too, were being torn apart by the shooting. A bloodbath - without
the blood.
There was nowhere for Boba to hide. No way to get out of this.
He picked up a fallen trooper's blaster and chose a side. The clones
were his only chance of getting off the planet. He had to help them win.
Boba had never fought in a battle before. Whenever he'd held a
blaster, his father had been at his side. Watching. Checking. Instructing.
Boba looked again at the troopers, the echo of his father. He raised
his rifle like they raised theirs. He aimed at the controls of one of the
battle droids. Without hesitation, he fired. The droid exploded into parts.
Another trooper fell - there were only four left with Boba. He could
hear the sound of other battles close by. Who is winning? CT-4/619 leaped -
with Jango Fett's dexterity - toward a fallen excavation rig. Boba
understood at once - protection. As the second and third troopers ran for
cover, Boba kept in their shadow. The fourth trooper followed and was cut
down by a rapid barrage of blaster fire. His mask went flying as he hit the
ground. Boba knew if he looked he would see his father's face, replicated
once more in death. He did not look back.
Instead he positioned himself at CT-4/619's side, aiming his blaster
rifle as the troopers made their last stand. One battle droid down. Then
another. Still, it wasn't enough. There were at least a dozen left.
CT-4/619 did not falter. He did not look at Boba. He did not say a
word. He kept his focus. He kept his aim. Boba knew this concentration
well.
Boba fired again. A miss. The droid returned his fire, tearing a hole
into the excavation rig - the only protection left.
Two more droids down. But the remaining droids were not deterred. They
turned all their fire onto the third trooper the next time he moved into
blasting position. He didn't have a chance.
This is it, Boba thought. There's no other way out.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see another form approaching.
Not a clone. Not a droid. A female Bothan, bearded and small. Wearing the
robes of a Jedi.
With one sharp, quick movement, the Jedi activated her lightsaber and
began to repel the droids' fire. As the droids turned their attack on her,
Boba and the two remaining clone troopers had an open shot.
The droids began to fall. The Jedi expertly destroyed them with their
own fire. The remaining clones rallied with cold precision. And Boba did
his part. He was not as experienced or as focused as his clone brothers.
But he had a desire to survive that they couldn't match.
The firing from the droids slowed... then stopped. There were none
left. Boba looked over to see the Jedi's reaction - but she was already
gone. Off to the next skirmish in order to complete this invasion.
Eventually, the laser cannons fell silent. Some of the gunships left
the perimeter, their mission complete. A few more circled, the remains of
the attack force. Jedi and clone troopers combed the ground for survivors -
and prisoners. CT-4/619 led Boba forward. There was no time to stop and
mourn for the dead. There were no congratulations, no expressions of
relief. Just the task at hand - getting back to the ship, finishing the
mission.
They walked across the smoking rubble toward a sleek gunship idling in
the swirling, stinking mists. Boba followed resolutely. Even though he was
walking into the hands of the Jedi, it was worth it to be walking out of
the grasp of Raxus Prime. CT-4/619 took away Boba's blaster rifle as he
walked on board the gunship - but luckily he was allowed to keep his bag.
Boba followed the trooper into the pilot area. The trooper got into the
pilot's seat and Boba sat in another seat.
"Not for seating," said the trooper. "For my partner, CT-5/501.
Detainees sit on the floor. We'll wait here for the others."
Boba wasn't about to protest. He sat on his flight bag while the
trooper powered up the vehicle.
Where's the food? Boba wondered. He suddenly realized how cold and
hungry and tired he was.
The gunship seemed awfully comfortable, even on the durasteel floor.
He could still hear the last gasp of explosions and commands being given
over the gunship's comm unit, but for some strange reason, he felt safe. He
knew he had survived.
"Impossible!"
Boba opened his eyes. Had he dozed off?
There was a face on the viewscreen. Angry, violet eyes peered out from
under long ash-blond hair and over a cream-colored beard that had been
braided into points. But it wasn't the face that bothered Bo
ba, or even the
harsh, demanding voice.
It was the uniform.
Even though this Jedi had just saved Boba's life, she was still the
enemy. Boba knew he had to remember that.
"Impossible!" the Jedi said again. "There are no humanoid orphans on
Raxus Prime, only Jawas. The planet is nothing but a toxic dump."
"Nevertheless, General Glynn-Beti," said CT-4/619. "I rescued one and
brought him into the gunship, as per intructions."
"Bring him up and stick him with the others, then. We will check on
him just like the rest."
Boba tried not to show the emotion in his face. The troopers were easy
enough to fool; or perhaps they didn't care. But the Jedi would see through
his deception. They were looking for him; he had almost been apprehended on
Coruscant. He was starting to think it was better to stay on Raxus Prime,
foul as it was.
But wait! Boba's new wisdom took over. The Jedi thought he was a war
orphan. He would be put with other orphans, as she had said. If he kept his
mouth shut, he would get food, shelter - and transportation to another
planet, where he could begin the search for Aurra Sing and Slave I.