Crossfire

by Terry Bisson

  Star Wars

  Boba Fett

  Book 2

  Crossfire

  by Terry Bisson

  source: IRC

  uploaded: 09.I.2006

  CHAPTER ONE

  "Hello!"

  Silence.

  "Hello!?"

  No answer. The hallway outside his door was quiet;

  Boba Fett was all alone.

  That was okay. Boba was used to being alone.

  Ever since he had buried his father, he had been by himself - - a ten-

  year-old against the galaxy. He missed his father but he didn't mind being

  alone. Sometimes.

  Sort of.

  whrr..

  Movement! Boba ran to a bend in the:corridor. "Hey! Hey!"

  .. whrrr...

  It was just a droid. A small, shoe-sized house droid, the custodial

  kind that dusted and cleaned continually. While other creatures bustled in

  other corridors of the Count's underground lair, only the custodial droids

  came into this hallway.

  That explained why Boba felt so isolated. But it didn't explain why he

  had been brought here, and what was going to happen to him. Only the Count

  could do that.

  The Count, a tall, thin, powerful man with a cold smile, was known as

  Tyranus - or Dooku, depending on whom you were talking to. Boba's father,

  Jango Fett, had left instructions that Boba was to find the Count if

  something happened to him.

  Something had happened to Boba's father. He had been killed in a

  battle with a Jedi. Boba had buried his father on the planet Geonosis. He

  had gone to his home planet of Kamino only to find that it wasn't home

  anymore. With his father gone, there was no security. With his father gone,

  there was no safety. There was only the need for escape.

  Boba's father had left him a book. Find Tyranus, it had told him, to

  access Jango's credits and find self-sufficiency.

  That suited Boba. He wanted to learn how to become a great bounty

  hunter like his father. To start out he'd need credits - then he'd earn

  more. But Boba hadn't had time to find the Count. The Count had found him

  first, sending a bounty hunter named Aurra Sing to capture him on Coruscant

  and bring him to this underground hideout on Raxus Prime. She'd taken his

  ship, Slave I as payment. But she hadn't explained why the Count wanted

  Boba.

  Only the Count could answer that, and Boba couldn't find him. The

  Count had welcomed him to this hideout - sort of - and had given him a room

  with a table, a chair, and a bed. Boba had immediately gone to sleep,

  exhausted. Now that he was awake, the Count was nowhere to be found.

  "Hello?"

  No answer.

  Walking around, Boba had seen rooms half-empty or filled with

  mysterious equipment, some of it still in crates. He had heard strange

  sounds in the distance. Voices, many languages. He passed figures half-seen

  as they scuttled down dimly lit corridors, hurrying around corners.

  There was something going on. But what?

  Clearly, the Count wanted to keep him separate from others. Boba hoped

  this was because the Count was going to train him, was going to employ him

  like he had employed Boba's father.

  That was his hope.

  The room Boba had been put into was painted white and lighted by glow

  panels set in the ceiling. Like everything he'd seen so far in the

  compound, it was thrown together, ramshackle. Clearly the Count had just

  moved in. And he might not be planning on staying for long.

  Boba knew the lair was underground - he had entered through a

  hillside, after being dropped off by Aurra Sing - but that was all he knew.

  He was far from the outside world, and even farther from any place he had

  ever known. He was isolated. The Count controlled everything.

  Boba knew he couldn't stay in the room all day. If he'd learned

  anything from the terrible days following his father's death, it was that

  he couldn't hesitate to take action. Boba kept walking down the hallway,

  which led to another dim hallway, the far-off voices a little closer. How

  will I find my way back to my own room? Boba wondered. The room where he

  had slept was where he had left his flight bag. It was his only property,

  the legacy from his father.

  He would worry about that later. First things first. That was a lesson

  his father had taught him. First he had to find the Count and figure out

  what was going on.

  "Hello?" Another empty room. But wait... this room was different.

  It had a window.

  The window overlooked a lake, surrounded by woods. A blue sky overhead

  was flecked with white clouds. But how could that be?

  Raxus Prime was the most toxic planet in the entire galaxy. Boba had

  seen the skies, thick with smoke; the hillsides piled high with wreckage

  and garbage; the oily waters choked with debris and waste. Everything on

  Raxus Prime was foul and filthy. So what was this lake out the window? Had

  it all been cleaned up while he slept? Or had he been moved somewhere else?

  Boba crossed the room toward the window. He was just about to try to

  open it when he heard a stern, forceful voice behind him.

  "Not allowed."

  Boba turned. Someone - or something - was standing in the doorway to

  the room, making the empty space seem suddenly filled. He was huge, his

  bald, reptilian head crowned with a claw like crest. He wore a gray

  jumpsuit with gold braiding and buttons. His broad mouth was filled with

  too many big square teeth, and his tiny eyes were cold.

  "Not allowed," the giant in the doorway said again, this time with a

  stomp of his tall, heavy boots. The ground shook beneath his statement.

  Boba felt a chill of fear, and remembered his father's words: Welcome

  your fear as a friend, but never show it to others. He made his voice sound

  casual, almost friendly. "What's not allowed?" he asked.

  "The unpermitted," was the terse reply. "Now come with us, young sir."

  Us? There was just him, just the one giant. But that was enough. "Come

  - where?" Boba asked.

  "The Count, ready to see you. Follow us, please."

  Boba knew he had no choice. The creature wasn't going to move until

  Boba did as he said.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Boba followed the giant, past more closed doors, to an ornately carved

  door at the end of a long hall.

  The giant knocked, then entered to a signal Boba hadn't heard. Inside,

  the room was larger than the others. It had furniture, too. A desk with

  carved legs had a holoprojector on it. A holographic comm unit was ready

  for transmissions in the corner of the room.

  Behind the desk was a tall picture window. The window faced a

  different direction than the window in the other room, but overlooked the

  same view, surrounded by the same woods. What's going on? Boba wondered.

  A man in a long cloak was standing at the window, looking out. He

  turned when Boba entered the room. A smile as thin and as sharp as a dagger

  creased his long, narrow f
ace, slicing his white beard in two. In a single

  glance, Boba could feel his dark presence. This was something more than

  strength. It was power.

  "Young Boba Fett," the Count said in a sonorous voice. "I hope you

  slept well. I see you found the clean clothing that was left beside your

  bed."

  Boba nodded, fingering the coarse tunic. "Yes, sir."

  "And the accommodations?"

  Boba nodded again. The breakfast hadn't amounted to much, only a

  shuura. But he wasn't about to complain.

  "Excellent," said the Count. "And I believe you have met Cydon Prax.

  He assists me with all things."

  The hideous giant bowed and Boba bowed back. His father had taught him

  to spot a killer when he saw one. And Prax looked like he could easily be a

  killer, if pushed the wrong way. Boba felt a tinge of anger, too. Prax now

  stood where Boba's dad had stood before, at the Count's side.

  "Prax will look after you and take care of your needs," the Count

  continued. "You must let him know if there is anything you desire. Anything

  at all."

  Boba nodded. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He wanted to seem agreeable -

  almost subservient. He wanted Prax to think of him as an obedient little

  kid. That way, neither Prax nor the Count would know what was really going

  through his head.

  "Since the unfortunate death of your father, I have been pleased to

  take on the responsibility for your care and upbringing," said the Count.

  "As you no doubt know, that was Jango Fett's last and fondest wish."

  It was? Boba thought. The Count's words were kind, but why was his

  voice so cold?

  "I have many obligations that may, unfortunately, prevent me from

  giving you my total attention," continued the Count. "However, I welcome

  you to my quarters here on Raxus Prime. You may find them a little

  primitive. We are engaged in an important archaeological project here. I

  will expect you to respect my rules and stay out of the way."

  "Yes, sir," said Boba. It was easy enough to please adults. All he had

  to do was nod and agree.

  "Good." The Count's smile was as bright and cold as an icicle. "Cydon,

  leave us."

  Cydon Prax gave a nod and lumbered out of the room. The Count slowly

  approached Boba and asked, "Have you ever heard the name Tyranus?"

  Boba nodded. It was a simple question, but the Count's tone was

  ominous.

  "Your father may have mentioned it to you in connection with his work

  on Kamino, developing the clone troopers. I believe I've heard you say that

  he and I were the same person. When you were on Geonosis, you looked at me

  and said, 'Isn't that Tyranus?' Do you remember that?"

  "I remember," said Boba. Where is this going? he wondered.

  "You might ask, why would someone have two names, Tyranus and Dooku?"

  the Count suggested mildly.

  "I learned from my father not to ask too many questions," Boba said.

  He could see from the Count's eyes that this was the right answer.

  "Excellent," said the Count. "Your father was very discreet. I believe

  you will be, too."

  "Yes," said Boba, wanting to reassure the Count.

  "A useful man, your father," said the Count. "And I see you are your

  father's son. I am sure that with the proper training, you will be as

  useful someday."

  "Yes, sir," said Boba. Training! Now they were getting somewhere.

  "Also, my father left a message about some credits that belonged to him. He

  said you would give them to me."

  "Ah, yes, Jango Fett's savings. I suppose, if you prove worthy... but

  we will discuss all that later, this evening."

  "I will prove worthy!" said Boba eagerly. "I want to be a great bounty

  hunter like my dad."

  But the Count was no longer listening. He was studying some strange

  images on his holomap. He had turned all of his attention away from Boba,

  as if Boba had never been there.

  Boba heard the door open and felt a grip on his shoulder. "Come with

  us," said Cydon Prax. As he was being led out the door, Boba heard the

  Count behind him, talking on his comm device. "Keep digging," he said in

  his icy voice. "Expand the search. Spare no expense. What we are looking

  for is more powerful than you can possibly imagine."

  CHAPTER THREE

  As Boba followed Prax down the long halls, back to his lonely room, he

  thought of the Count's cold dismissal. Can I trust him? Do I have a choice?

  Maybe the Count wasn't going to turn out to be such a good friend after all

  Jango Fett had always said: that in a bounty hunter's life, there was no

  such thing as a friend. Boba knew this was probably true. But still he

  hoped...

  "Stay, here," said Prax, when they arrived at the room. "No wandering.

  Unpermitted."

  Boba nodded his agreement and closed the door. His original clothes

  were back, clean, folded. at the foot of the bed. He changed into them,

  glad to shed the rough tunic.

  His flight bag sat on the floor beside the bed. It contained

  everything Boba owned except his father's ship, Slave I. Boba fully

  intended to get it back. Meanwhile, the bag contained all his worldly

  possessions:

  A helmet and a book.

  When Boba had buried his father with his armor on Geonosis, he had

  kept his scarred and pitted battle helmet. It was Mandalorian. Boba took it

  out of the flight bag and looked at it longingly. The faceplate of the

  helmet was as familiar, as stern, and, in its own strange way, as loving as

  his father's actual features.

  In fact, Boba was beginning to fear he would forget his father's face.

  This would become more familiar - this harsh visage, like a T, with an eye

  slit at the top.

  Boba put the helmet beside him and took out the book.

  The black book contained Jango Fett's final messages to his son.

  Sometimes they were the same, from day to day. Sometimes they changed.

  The most recent message had been about the Count, credits, and self-

  sufficiency. Boba opened the book to see if it had changed. It had, but

  only a little. Today it read:

  Self-sufficiency you will learn from the Count.

  Sometimes the book wasn't much help. How was he going to learn self-

  sufficiency from the Count, who wasn't even interested in talking to him?

  Boba had lots of questions. Why was the Count so cold and mistrustful?

  What was he digging for? But it was clear that if he wanted answers, he was

  going to have to find them himself - even though wandering was unpermitted,

  according to Prax.

  He closed the book and put it back into the flight bag. It was time to

  explore.

  Boba clenched his fist and held it in front of his face, making a vow.

  "Self-sufficiency means do it yourself!" he muttered. He picked up his

  father's helmet - it was his only possible disguise, just in case he needed

  one. Carefully, as quietly as possible, he opened the door....

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Boba looked right.

  Boba looked left.

  No Cydon Prax

  Good - - all clear!

  He started his exploration, staying close, to the wall, so he could

  d
uck out of sight if necessary. He followed the hallway to the end, then

  rounded a corner; then. another corner - always heading 'toward' the noises

  and commotion he could hear in the distance.

  The halls around his room were empty, but those farther away were

  filled with noise and activity. Soon Boba found himself sharing the

  corridors. Droids of all shapes and sizes bustled about, carrying equipment

  in and out of the small storage rooms. Their whirrs and clicks sounded

  almost like speech.

  There were other creatures, too. Boba saw a Geonosian warrior armed

  with a sonic blaster at a distance and a Nemoidian in colorful robes,

  looking angry and harassed.

  The whole place had a temporary, provisional air, like a construction

  site. There was dirt on the floor and scars on the walls, where they had

  been bumped and scraped. There was a sharp smell, either of the outside air

  or of the oil-like sweat glistening on the limbs of the busy droids.

  The equipment in some of the rooms looked like it was for digging or

  drilling. Most of it was covered with muck, but some was bright and