Boba Fett_ The Fight To Survive Part 9

Boba didn't care. All he cared about was finding his father. He ran down the last aisle, pushing his way through the stunned crowd.

He climbed over the wall and jumped into the arena.

"Dad! Dad! Where are you?!"

The dirt and sand under his feet were soaked with blood. Bodies lay in heaps on all sides.

A droid that had been blasted in half was thrashing around in a circle, kicking weapons, droid pieces, and bodies in every direction.

One piece rolled toward Bobs, hit his foot, and stopped.

Boba looked down and saw - Jango Fett's battle helmet.

Dad! With its narrow eye-slits, it was as familiar as his father's face. More familiar, in fact, It was b.l.o.o.d.y. It was empty. It was as blank and as final as the period at the end of a book.

Over. End of story.

As he fell on his knees and picked up his father's battle helmet, Boba knew that the nightmare he had seen from the stands had been no dream.

It was real. All of it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

No one notices a ten-year-old kid especially in the midst of a battle.

Especially when he is wandering in a daze, Stepping over bodies and trails of blood, oblivious to the laser bolts whining through the air near his head or spinning into the b.l.o.o.d.y sand at his feet, Especially when he is ignoring the shouts of the living and the screams of the dying; ignoring even his own cries.

Bobs was invisible.

He was invisible even to himself. He didn't know what he was thinking or what he was feeling or what he was doing. He was numb. It was like walking through somebody else's dream.

He carried his father's empty battle helmet cradled in both arms, while he stumbled around the arena in the remains of the battle; while the troops were fighting the last of the droids and the gunships were departing with the rescued Jedi; while the panicked Geonosians were evacuating the arena in a stampede.

He carried the broken piece of his father's armor through the broken pieces of his world.

Did he think he could put his father back together?

Did he think he could put his life back together?

Boba didn't think anything. He was numb. It was all gone, all shattered.

It had all come to pieces. Pieces lay everywhere. Pieces of droids, body parts, the dead and the dying. Those who were still alive, and some of those who weren't, were firing their blasters wildly.

Boba walked past a spinning droid, its right leg shot off. It was firing around and around as it spun, spraying the upper tiers of the arena and the panicked crowd of Geonosians.

Laser bolts. .h.i.t the ground around him, throwing up geysers of sand.

Boba didn't care. Boba walked on.

Crouching troops in battle armor hurried by, firing as they ran.

One grabbed Boba's arm and threw him to the ground. "Get down!"

WHARR000MM!.

An explosion ripped through the air where Boba had been. He hit flat on his belly.

W HA R ROOOM M!.

Another explosion - and Boba felt sand stinging his cheeks. He buried his face in his arms, next to the empty helmet. When he opened his eyes and looked up, he saw - Dad! It was his father, Jango Fett, looking down at him! Boba reached up for his father's hand, and - Then, suddenly, Boba saw how wrong he was. It was not his father.

It was the trooper who had saved his life, or one of the others. For they all looked exactly alike beneath the armor. It was his twin, only older.

It was his father, only younger.

It was one of the clones.

As he stumbled to his feet, Boba realized clearly - and with horror - that the troops that had poured out of the gunships were the clone army that his father had trained on Kamino. Here they were, in action for the first time, on Geonosis. And unbeatable, just as his father had predicted. But they were fighting on the wrong side. Fighting for the hated Jedi!

No! Boba thought, clenching his fists. His disappointment was replaced by feelings of betrayal and rage.

"Just a kid!" the trooper said. "Thought you were one of us." He ran with the other clones toward a departing gunship.

"I'm not one of you!" Boba muttered angrily. "And I never will be.

I am Jango Fett's real son."

The arena was almost empty. The Archduke was nowhere to be seen.

The Count was nowhere to be seen. The fighting was almost over. The last gunship was leaving, blasting upward through the opening over the arena.

Boba hardly noticed. He was looking down, not up. He didn't care about the clones anymore. He had a job to do. One last job for Jango Fett.

It was getting dark. The rings of Geonosis filled half the sky with an orange glow. With the helmet in his arms, Boba was walking in circles, stumbling through the blood-damp sand. Finally, he found what he was looking for. Stumbled across it, in fact.

It was his father's body, still clothed in the remaining pieces of Mandalorian battle armor, scuffed and bloodied.

Boba placed his father's helmet on his father's chest, then sat down beside him. He was tired and it was time to rest. He noticed a tear slowly making its way down through the gritty sand on his cheek. He wiped it away with his fist.

It was too soon to cry. Boba still had a job to do.

It was dark, or as dark as it gets on the ringed planet. The battle had moved out of the arena and had covered a wide part of the land.

The Geonosians - now under the control of the victorious Jedi - sent in squads of drones to pick up the dead. They were tossed on a fire.

The smashed and broken droids were luckier. They were picked up by a scoop to be taken outside to a sc.r.a.p pile, for recycling.

Boba was sitting by his father's body when the scoop rolled by, on its second pa.s.s through the b.l.o.o.d.y arena.

Boba knew what he had to do. He was not like the clones. He was Jango Fett's real son. It was his job to take care of his father's body.

And as long as he did his job, he could put off feeling the feelings that he didn't want to feel.

The scoop whined and jerked as it moved from place to place, blindly scouring the sand for more parts. Boba dragged his father's body into the scoop's path, where it would be picked up. In his Mandalorian battle armor, Jango Fett felt to the scoop just like a droid. A broken droid.

Boba got on the scoop and sat beside his father. He held the battle helmet in his arms as the robot scoop headed out of the arena, down a long pa.s.sage leading out to the desert.

Boba was doing his job. That was all that mattered.

For now.

The droid sc.r.a.p yard was under the mesa where Boba had spotted the Jedi in his starfighter. It was an immense heap of broken circuits, busted arms and legs, wheels and heads and steel knives and torsos.

The scoop made its dump and headed back into the stalagmite city, through an underground pa.s.sage. Boba dragged his father's body off the sc.r.a.p pile and onto the rocky mesa.

The mesa seemed a better resting place. More peaceful, and certainly more beautiful.

Boba removed his father's battle armor and set it aside. He took one last look at the strong arms and legs that had protected him. Then, using a broken droid arm for a shovel, Boba buried his father in a sandy grave overlooking the desert.

The broken droid arm made a "J," and Boba found another that he bent to make an "F." He arranged them on top of the grave.

Jango Fett. Gone but not forgotten.

Boba suddenly felt very tired. He sat down beside his father's battle armor. He wished he had something to eat.

He shivered. The wind off the desert was cold.

Boba leaned back against the helmet and looked up at the great orange rings that encircled the planet. It was if they were holding it in their arms. It was a peaceful sight....

Boba slept peacefully all that night. His dreams (and he forgot them) were of the mother he had never had, and the father he had been lucky enough to have. He awoke in the morning, rested and surprisingly comfortable. Then he saw that a furry sand snake had wrapped itself around him as he slept, keeping him warm.

Startled, Boba jumped to his feet. The sand snake yelped in alarm and slithered away in a panic.

The same one? Boba wondered.

It didn't matter. What mattered was that his job was done, for now.

His father was buried. The little grave with the JF on it was proof of that.

Looking at it, Boba realized how much he was going to miss the father who had protected him, guided him, watched over him - and loved him. Now he was alone, all alone.

And for the first time, and for a long time, he wept.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

It was time to think clearly, time to make plans. Time to swing into action.

First things first, Jango Fett always said.

First was taking care of the Mandalorian battle armor: the suit, the helmet, the jet-pack, and all the weaponry. It will be yours someday, his father had said.

But for now, Boba was too small to wear it or even carry it around.

So he cleaned it, then hid it in a small cave under a cliff. He would reclaim it later.

Second was the black book his father had left him; or rather, the message unit that was not-a, book.

It will tell you what you need to know.

Boba had to get back into the apartment to get it. That presented a problem, given the chaos created by the battle that had spread from the arena. He had been confined to quarters by his father, which meant that his retinal print might not open the door.

Boba got the battle helmet out of the cave to bring with him, just in case. Since Jango almost always wore it, it would contain unlocking codes.

The next problem was getting into the stalagmite city. I can do it, he thought, hearing the crash of broken droid parts being dumped below the mesa.

First load of the morning.

So far so good, thought Boba as he rode the scoop through the underground pa.s.sage. Dad would be proud.

He felt a sad thought approaching but he waved it away. There would be time for all that later. For now, the best way to honor his father was to learn and live by Jango Fett's code.

That would take some doing, but it would be worth it. It had been Jango's plan for his son. Now it was Boba's plan for himself.

Carrying the battle helmet, Boba ran up the long stairs toward the apartment. He pa.s.sed only two or three Geonosians, and they hardly noticed him.

There are certain advantages to being ten. One is that no one ever thinks you are doing anything serious.

The door clicked open as soon as he touched it. The apartment was almost empty. Jango Fett had always traveled light. Boba looked for the black book in the box where he kept his few clothes and old toys.

It wasn't there.

Suddenly, he remembered his last trip to the library in Tipoca City. He realized, with horror, what he had done. He had gotten the black book mixed up with his library books. It looked just like a book, after all. He had returned it with them!

That's why Whrr had tried to call him back. But Boba had been in too much of a hurry to listen.

The information Boba needed was on Kamino!