by Terry Bisson
wanderer and wayfarer since the Republic's first beginnings millennia ago.
And now it awaited Boba Fett. An orphan seeking only to please his
father's ghost.
Hopeful again at last, Boba eased Slave I into suborbital approach,
past the big orbiting mirrors that gathered and focused the light of
Coruscant's faraway sun.
The starship hit the atmosphere and began to slow. Boba descended in
big looping turns, past the towers of the wealthy and powerful, past the
hanging gardens, and into the commercial zones reserved for uninvited
visitors. With traffic crowding in on all sides, this was a much more
harrowing approach than on Kamino or the moons of Bogden. Boba's heart
tightened in his chest. Would they find him here?
He felt a slight bump and let go of Slave /'s controls. The ship was
locked into autopilot, being flown "by wire" on a microbeam. It would land
itself.
That was fine with Boba. He had other things to worry about. Money,
for starters. He would need to pay his landing fees before he could take
off again. Then there was the problem of the Jedi. If they were really
after him, as Taun We had warned, they might have a warrant out on Slave I.
He could be arrested as soon as he touched down.
He needed some guidance. Maybe the book would help. It seemed to open
when he needed it, or at least when it had something to say.
He pulled it out of the flight bag. Sure enough, it opened. But the
message was even more mysterious than usual:
Watch out for things that go too well.
That's hardly my problem! Boba thought. He closed the book, disgusted,
and put it away. He watched nervously as the ship eased in toward the
spaceport, slipping smoothly between the towers and under the lighted
walkways and gardens of Coruscant.
Slave I bumped down, light and easy. No alarms went off.
Boba lowered the ramp. He scanned the landing pad, ready to run if
need be.
Nobody was watching. Nobody was around.
This was Coruscant. Nobody cared about an insignificant little ship
like Slave I. Or its insignificant little ten-year-old pilot.
Boba's first emotion on landing was relief.
His second was fear. The Jedi had eyes and ears everywhere. And
especially on Coruscant. Would they find Boba before he found Tyranus?
Boba didn't fear the Jedi as much as he feared failure. Would he
disgrace his father's memory by failing in his first test, the search for
Tyranus - and self-sufficiency?
"Welcome to Coruscant," said a disembodied droid voice.
"Sure, whatever," muttered Boba.
Carrying his flight bag with the black book and the battle helmet,
plus a few extra pairs of underwear and socks, he climbed down out of the
ship. He started down the escalator toward the streets.
Boba had read enough about Coruscant to know that it was arranged in
layers according to class and function.
The upper levels were for the rich and powerful. Looking up, Boba
could see their towers and gardens reaching up into the clouds.
The middle levels, where he had landed, were for both business and
pleasure. The streets were filled with creatures from all over the galaxy,
rushing around, buying and selling, or just sightseeing.
The lower levels were said to be dangerous. They were the outlaw
zones, filled with fugitives, pirates, and criminals - all the denizens of
the underworld that lay beneath the Imperium.
Boba hoped all would go well on the lower levels when he went to find
the Golden Cuff. He'd had quite enough adventure, thank you. He just wanted
to find Tyranus.
Boba was in luck.
The Golden Cuff was a little hole-in-the-wall on the upper layer of
the lower levels, just under the lower layer of the middle levels.
It was far enough down that the light was dim and the neon signs could
glow all day. But not so far down that one had to hire a posse of armed
guards to cross the street.
Boba walked in through the sliding door.
The bar was deserted except for the bartender, a four-armed being who
was using two of his arms to wash glasses, one to count credits, and one to
wipe the bar with a wet rag. His skin was a dark crimson, and a proprietor
sign named him as Nan Mercador.
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 /'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 hyper-space, and let's go."
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
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.
