“Gorga is not an underling!” boomed the Hutt. His tiny arms beat against his vast slimy chest. “My uncle is busy tending to our interests on Tatooine. If you desire, you may visit him there. But I would advise against it,” Gorga added with a long, rolling laugh.
Boba grimaced. So this was Jabba’s nephew! He had a hard time imagining something more repulsive than Gorga. But it seemed like he would have to, until he could see Jabba himself.
Boba felt a stab of disappointment and nervousness. He had hoped that Jabba would be here, to give him the advice—the knowledge—that his father had said the old crimelord possessed.
But Jabba was not here. He was on Tatooine.
I have to get to Slave I, Boba thought grimly. I have to get to Tatooine.
He had wasted enough time here in the Undercity. He had the information he needed about his father’s fortune. It was in the Kuat Bank vaults on Level Two. He had his card. Slave I was waiting for him, back on Level One. All he had to do was get to the bank, get his credits, and he would have enough to get off of Aargau, and on to Tatooine.
Just the thought of flying again made Boba feel better. He would trace his way back through the tunnel, back to the trapdoor. He’d figure out a way to open it again and climb out. Then he’d figure out how to get back to Level Two. He’d come this far on his own, right?
He could do it.
As silent as a shook, Boba began to inch away from the grill. Then he turned and started running back up the tunnel. It curved and curved, and once more Boba saw all those side passages, black and yawning like huge mouths.
Don’t look at them. Keep your eyes on the tunnel!
Ahead he could just make out the sliver of light that fell from the trapdoor. He began to run even faster—
And suddenly, he stopped.
“No!” he whispered.
In the middle of the passage, something was crawling toward him. It was more than a half-meter long, with many black, jointed legs and a long, jointed body. Two long, clacking pincers were raised above its mandibles. Its small beady red eyes were fixed on Boba, and its jaws clashed together as it skittered toward him.
A kretch!
Boba kicked at it. He heard its claws clack, then felt them brush against his leg as it lunged for him. He jumped to one side, but the kretch was too fast—it followed, brushing up against his boot.
Boba kicked it again. This time he felt a satisfying thump as his foot connected with the scorpion-like creature. The kretch went flying, and with a loud crack struck the tunnel wall.
But now Boba heard more sounds—other small, clacking creatures skittering up the passage.
He turned to race toward the trapdoor—
And ran right into a tall figure. It was a man, wearing the same drab gray uniform as the guards he had seen surrounding San Hill in Gorga’s hideaway.
But this man was no guard or underling. He wore the dress uniform of a high-ranking official in San Hill’s employ, a broad decorative belt, and an expression that was equal parts suspicion and command. He smiled grimly down at Boba.
“Going somewhere?” he asked.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Boba stared at the official in dismay. Behind him the kretch insects chattered and clacked. He glanced down at them. Then he grabbed Boba by the arm, turned, and pressed his own hand against the wall. Immediately, a hidden door opened. The official pulled Boba after him. The door closed as the kretch insects hissed and chittered, furious at losing their prey.
“So.” The man gazed down thoughtfully at Boba. “It seems we do have a spy in our midst. But not a very careful one. Let’s get a look at you.”
He shone a torch into Boba’s face. The boy shaded his eyes with his hand as the man stooped to stare at Boba intently. He had long, reddish hair, a rugged face. A jagged scar ran from below one eye, across his cheek and to his chin.
“Who are you?” Boba ventured.
“Vice-chair Kos of galactic accounts,” the official replied. He held Boba’s chin in his hand. Boba stared back at him defiantly, saying nothing. The man continued to look at him. Finally Kos shook his head. His eyes narrowed, as his expression changed.
“I know what you are,” he said. “You’re that Clawdite spy we heard about.” A slight, almost admiring, smile creased his face. “Disguised as a boy—very clever.”
Boba began to shake his head no. Then he stopped.
A Clawdite shapeshifter could look like anyone, or anything his size. The vice-chair thought he was Nuri!
“That’s right,” said Boba slowly. He looked warily up at the official.
The man’s smile hardened. “Well, San Hill has his own methods of dealing with spies.” He began to pull Boba toward him.
“And so does my master,” said Boba.
Kos stopped. He stared at Boba suspiciously. “What do you mean by that?”
Boba hesitated. He had the kind of information a spy would have—real, possibly deadly, information. Out of everyone here on Aargau—out of everyone in the galaxy—only Boba knew that the Count was playing a deadly game. The Count was pretending to be two people, on opposing sides of a great, galaxy-spanning conflict.
It was information worth staking one’s life on. And right now, that’s what Boba was going to do.
“San Hill only knows part of the story,” said Boba. He tried to keep his voice calm.
“And you know the rest?” snapped the vice-chair. But he looked uneasy. He glanced over his shoulder, then drew Boba close to him. “What have you heard?” Kos asked in a whisper. His gloved hands held Boba so tightly the boy’s arm ached. “There have been rumors, a thousand rumors.”
Boba’s heart hammered inside his chest. He was in great danger—but with danger comes opportunity. If he was clever, he could use this official to escape from the Undercity; maybe even to escape from Aargau….
“I know nothing of rumors,” Boba said at last. He held his head up proudly and gazed straight into the vice-chair’s eyes. “I know only the truth—but the truth comes at a price.”
Kos stared fixedly at Boba. He seemed to be weighing his choices.
“I don’t have all day,” said Boba. “And neither do those I serve.” He looked knowingly past the vice-chair, as though he saw someone else there.
Kos stiffened. His hand touched his weapons belt, as though for reassurance. “Your price?” he said. “Your miserable shapeshifting skin should be price enough! You tell me what you know, and I’ll let you go free—for now.”
Boba fought to keep his voice steady. He could sense Kos’s fear—if Boba could control his own fear, he would have the upper hand. “No. That’s not enough. I will share my information—but first you have to bring me to Level Two.”
“Level Two?” The vice-chair started laughing. Then his laughter turned to restrained fury. “I could break your neck right here—but after San Hill hears your news, he will devise more entertaining ways to kill you.”
“After they hear my news,” said Boba softly, “he will kill you for not taking me to him sooner. But by then my master will be here, and…”
He let his voice trail off threateningly.
The official stared at him. His face grew dark with anger. His hand moved toward Boba’s neck.
Boba took a deep breath. If he was going to die right now, he would die fighting. He gazed unafraid and defiant up at his captor.
But then Kos stopped. He looked at the boy. His scarred face seemed to regard Boba with more respect. At last he nodded.
“All right,” he said. “We’ll do it your way. Trouble is brewing, that’s for sure. Might as well be out of this place when the storm breaks.”
He pushed Boba roughly ahead of him. There was the click of a blaster being loosed from its holster. “But don’t even dream of escaping. I’ll bring you to Level Two—”
“To the Kuat Bank,” said Boba quickly.
For a moment the guard was silent. Then he laughed. “Kuat, eh? Well, someone must be paying you well for yo
ur services. But I guess you must be worth it, eh?”
You don’t know the half of it, Boba thought, as the lieutenant marched him down the dark passage.
CHAPTER TWENTY
They walked in near-darkness for what seemed like hours, the torch’s beam guiding them. But in reality, only a short while had passed—Boba had to remind himself that the darkness was deceptive, like everything else on Aargau.
At last they reached a spot where the tunnel widened. In front of them was a wide metal door. And in front of the door was an airspeeder.
“Get in,” Kos snapped. He kept his blaster trained on Boba.
Boba clambered inside. He couldn’t keep from smiling. Just the sight and feel of a cockpit made his blood race with excitement!
“What are you grinning at?” the official said suspiciously.
Boba composed his face into a calmer expression. “I am thinking that you made the right choice,” he said.
This seemed to satisfy the vice-chair. He climbed into the pilot’s seat, positioned himself behind the controls, and pressed a button. The wide door slid up, revealing a huge empty airshaft. It stretched up into dark, seemingly limitless space. Boba craned his neck and stared up.
Not limitless. High, high above them he could see a glitter of green.
“A shortcut,” said the vice-chair. He allowed himself a smile. “This ventilation shaft opens directly onto Level Two. And—lucky for you!—the Kuat vaults are not far at all.”
Without warning he grabbed the controls. The power generator roared to life. With a shudder the airspeeder bucked forward. Then, as Kos hit the throttle, the craft zoomed straight up.
Boba grabbed hold of his seat. This was more like it! He eyed the airspeeder’s controls longingly. The craft rocked back and forth. It rose so quickly Boba’s ears hurt from the abrupt change in air pressure. He looked aside at Kos piloting the craft.
I could fly this thing better than he can, Boba thought disdainfully.
Still, he had to admit, the vice-chair did go fast. Mere minutes passed, as they flew up, up, up. Sooner than Boba could have imagined, the speeder came to a halt.
“Well then,” said Kos. The speeder hovered in the air of the shaft. A few feet away was a wall, and a door with a sign on it.
LEVEL TWO, it read in glowing green letters.
A small metal platform extended from the door, hanging out over empty space. Boba turned and looked behind him. More emptiness. He looked up, squinting in the darkness.
He could barely make it out, but there it was. Far above him was a faint red shimmer: Level One. He looked down. He gulped. They must be miles and miles above the Undercity.
“Now.” Kos turned to Boba. His eyes had grown even more intent, even more menacing. “You see that door there? I will open it, and allow you to enter Level Two—but not until you tell me what you know.”
Boba’s gaze shifted from the man to the platform. If he jumped from the airspeeder, he might be able to make it. But even if he succeeded, the door was locked.
And if he fell—
Boba swallowed. He thought of his father: No matter how Jango felt, he would always appear brave.
A lot of the time I’m scared, Boba, he had once said. But if an enemy ever knows you’re afraid, you’re finished.
Boba imagined he was as strong and powerful as his father. He imagined himself looking unafraid—even though that was not how he felt.
He said, “San Hill is raising money for the Separatist cause. The Separatists are united behind Count Dooku—”
The vice-chairs’s face twisted angrily. “That’s not news! Everyone knows that—”
“I’m not finished,” said Boba coolly. “Did you know that a man named Tyranus recruited a bounty hunter named Jango Fett for the Kaminoans to use to create a clone army for the Republic.”
“I’d heard things like that,” Kos admitted, growing more interested.
“Well, I know this: Dooku and Tyranus are the same person.”
The official stared at him in disbelief. After a moment he started to laugh. “You really had me going for a minute,” he said. Then his face darkened. “But I have no time to waste—tell me the truth! What do you know?”
Boba hesitated. He knew he was putting his own life in danger by sharing this secret. But it was the only weapon he had.
“He is helping to build two armies,” Boba went on slowly. “He has spent millions—billions—on both the droids and the clones. And in the end, only he will benefit from a war.”
Boba thought how foolish his own words sounded. But, strangely, the vice-chair seemed to hear them differently.
“Tyranus…is Dooku?” he said in a low voice. “But—”
He shook his head. He looked stunned and disbelieving, but Boba could tell that the seeds of doubt had been sown.
“Are you certain of this?” Kos asked after a minute. “This is treason. The highest kind of treason.”
Boba nodded. Kos stared, thinking, at the control panel. Finally he said, almost to himself, “I must tell San Hill.”
Without another word he steered the airspeeder over to the platform. The craft rocked gently back and forth in the air. The official reached forward and pressed a button. The door onto Level Two slid open.
“Get out,” he said curtly. “Before I change my mind and kill you.”
Boba jumped out, his heart pounding. It took him a second to get his balance. Then he raced toward the open door.
“Wait—” the vice-chair called from behind him.
Boba turned. The man half-stood in his airspeeder, his blaster drawn.
“You took too long,” Kos said in a low voice. “I changed my mind.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
With a gasp Boba turned and sprinted for the door. But before he could reach it, an explosion sounded behind him. He looked back and saw Kos turning to stare at something below his airspeeder. There was the drone of a hoverbike, and another explosive burst that shook the speeder. An instant later, the hoverbike itself came into view. Riding it was a familiar, red-haired figure.
“Aurra,” said Boba in disbelief. As he stared she raised her blaster, her blazing eyes fixed on him.
“Got it in one,” she said, and fired. There was a second blast as the vice-chair returned her fire, and the hoverbike rocked slightly.
Without hesitation Boba lunged for the airspeeder, diving inside just as the craft shot away from the landing platform. Kos glanced down at him, one hand on the controls, the other on his blaster.
“That’s Aurra Sing,” the man said grimly. “If she’s part of all this…”
His voice trailed off. It seemed as though Aurra’s sudden appearance made him take Boba even more seriously. The speeder veered and then swooped into a heart-stopping dive. “Take the controls!” Kos shouted as another volley of fire surrounded them.
Boba nodded and jumped into the control seat. The vice-chair turned to monitor Aurra’s pursuit. “There are security forces all over Level Two,” he said, shaking his head. “There’s no way she can get away with this.”
“That’s not gonna help us if we’re dead,” retorted Boba. He steered the speeder around a sharp curve in the airshaft, then yanked back on the controls so that the vehicle abruptly shot up, up, into darkness. “I’ll see if we can lose her.”
Boba stared at the vast space around them, lines of windows and doors reduced to smears of white and green by their speed. Behind them the bike’s hum rose to a furious roar. Blasts of white-hot plasma spun past the airspeeder, giving off a scorched smell. As Aurra Sing scored a direct hit, the speeder gave a violent twist to the left. Boba corrected it quickly. He let the speeder go into a dive as Aurra swung in right behind them, then pulled out and soared up again, the bike screaming in pursuit.
“Are we damaged?” Boba yelled above the roar of the engines.
“Not seriously,” Kos shouted back. His blaster moved furiously back and forth, trying to get a fix on Aurra Sing, but she was too fa
st. “I’m going to call for reinforcements—”
Boba swallowed. If the vice-chair called for help, other soldiers would arrive. They’d take Aurra into custody—but they’d take him, too. He’d be questioned about what he had told the official, and—
Boba swallowed. He didn’t want to think about what would happen to him if he were brought in for questioning. If what he knew about Dooku and Tyranus became known to San Hill. If it became known to the Count…
He couldn’t let the lieutenant talk. He hunched over the controls, his hands like ice as they grasped the throttle, then punched commands into the panel.
“There’s a price on her head,” Boba said. “You’ll be well-rewarded by my master for bringing her in. I’ll set the comm unit to make a distress call,” he lied, pretending to press a small panel of red lights. He glanced back to make sure the vice-chair’s eyes were still on the hoverbike whipping through the air behind them. Then he looked up.
Ahead of them, gaps of deeper darkness appeared, more airshafts or maintenance tunnels. Boba kept his sights on one of these, a triangular opening that yawned bigger and bigger as the speeder raced toward it.
“Now!” breathed Boba. He hit the controls, and the speeder swerved suddenly, disappearing into the lightless tunnel.
“What are you doing?” Kos demanded.
“Evasive action,” said Boba. Behind them, Aurra’s bike swept past the tunnel’s entrance. Boba held his breath.
Sure enough, moments later the bike reappeared, barreling up the dark passage after them.
“Get her in your sights now,” Boba said, pointing at the figure on the bike, a black shadow against the brilliance of the tunnel’s opening. “I’ll keep the speeder steady.”
Kos fumbled with his blaster. “Hard to see her in this,” he muttered. “It’s so dark.”
“That means it’s hard for her to get a fix on you, too,” said Boba.
But that was another lie. Aurra Sing had a predator’s mind and instincts. She also had a predator’s skills. She could see in the dark as keenly as a tuk’ata—
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