Disclaimer: Star Wars, Boba Fett, and the New Republic all belong to
someone else, namely the great one George Lucas. I am not writing this
story with any intent to profit financially or in any other material way,
or in any other way infringe or impose on Mr. Lucas, his copyright, or
anything else that may impede the smooth process of his writing & directing
of Episode III.
Out of the Frying Pan…
It was, Boba Fett thought, like swimming upward through a sea of Ihalla-tree sap, the long, slow return to consciousness. Now, at least, he could see the surface, though it still lay out of reach. But it didn't matter, he was in no hurry.
He was lying on his back, on a very comfortable bed, and in no pain. He knew that there was something he should be doing, but he couldn't remember what. Nor could he summon up much concern in the matter. He was…comfortable.
He felt movement, then; his body was being manipulated. Someone was dressing him. He desired neither to help or hinder the process; he couldn't see how it mattered.
At least, not until he felt the restraints being locked onto his wrists.
He opened his eyes, and looked up. The bounty hunter Merisu was leaning over him, checking to make sure he was secure. Taking no chances.
"You," he said.
"Me." Then she straightened. "You must be thirsty."
He nodded. She brought him a glass of water, and raised his head so he could drink it. He didn't question it; if she'd wanted him unconscious, she wouldn't have turned off the drugs.
"Where are we?" Fett asked.
She didn't answer. He supposed she'd headed straight for the closest New Republic government office. He was valuable merchandise; she'd want to exchange him for cold, hard credits before someone else decided to take him from her and collect the bounty for themselves.
Once he was turned over to the New Republic, he'd probably be taken, under heavy guard, to Coruscant. There he would stand trial for whatever crimes they decided to charge him with. Assault on Citizens of the New Republic, for one. Multiple counts; Han Solo, Leia Organa, Chewbacca…there would be others.
He was certain that, one way or another, he would never be a free man again.
He began to focus, to take stock of his condition. The cuts in his stomach and feet no longer hurt, though that could still be the lingering effects of the drugs. But as long as they'd been underway for more than two days the bacta would have healed him completely. Merisu had dressed him in his Mandalorian armor, even to the gauntlets—not so much of a surprise, when he thought about it. After all—how else would anyone know him?
And that, he realized, could be his way out.
Now, what he needed to do was lull her. He closed his eyes almost all the way, and relaxed into the mattress. The more doped-up she thought he was, the better. But he turned his head to the right, so that he could study the room.
She'd obviously spent a good chunk of their travel time disarming his equipment; the warhead from his back-mounted rocket-launcher sat beside the jetpack. The wrist-darts were also there, and even the coil of wire he would have used to entangle his prey. There were also short lengths of wire, and electronics components scattered on the countertop.
"Come on," she said, interrupting his survey. "Sit up."
He obeyed, and she put a heavy chain around his waist. He watched, as she unlocked the restraint on his left hand—on the far side of the bed—and re-locked it to the chain. Then she went to the nearer one.
She'd be expecting an escape attempt, and he gave her one. As soon as the second restraint was free, he lashed out at her, using the chain itself as a weapon.
She ducked back, out of range. That gave him the opportunity he needed. He rolled to the side, off the bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he launched himself toward the table with the components. The world seemed to spin wildly beneath him, but he kept his focus, and gained his objective.
He grabbed the longest piece of wire he could see, and then, in one smooth motion, grabbed one of the wrist-darts.
He slipped the wire in between the gauntlet and the sleeve of his flight suit, then began to fumble with the wrist-dart. The fumbling wasn't even feigned; his eyes could barely focus.
He saw Merisu approaching, and began to back away. Finally, he managed to get the dart set. He held out his arm in firing position, flexed his wrist—but of course, nothing happened. He hadn't been expecting it to.
He staggered back, and pressed his hand to his head. Merisu was about to tackle him, but before she got the chance, he dropped to his knees. He rolled his eyes back, and leaned against the table leg.
Gently, Merisu extracted the wrist-dart from the gauntlet, and locked the restraint into place. Then she eased Fett back, so that he was leaning against the bulkhead.
"What's wrong?"
"Dizzy," he mumbled. "I can barely…"
"Wait here."
She got up for a moment, and returned with something wrapped in a foil packet. A ration bar. She unwrapped it, and held it up so that he could eat it. He gulped it in three bites, and then slumped back against the bulkhead.
"Better?" she asked.
He didn't respond. After a moment, she unwrapped another one, and held it up. He ate that one just as eagerly.
In a few minutes, the dizziness began to recede. But he kept his eyes closed anyhow. The more he could get her to feed him, the more energy he'd have once he made his escape.
"All right," she said, sounding a little aggravated. "Last one."
After he'd eaten the last ration bar, she got up again and brought his helmet. She eased it over his head, but didn't seal it to the collar of his flight suit. Then she helped him to his feet.
He moved carefully, as if he were picking his way across a debris-strewn landscape. He was rewarded with an impatient sigh. Good, good, get annoyed, he thought.
She took him to the speeder, and strapped him in. The passenger seat was made to secure a prisoner. She turned the repulsorlifts on, opened the door, lowered the ramp, and left her ship.
There wasn't much to this city she'd brought him to. He could see the edge of town, bounded by a spike-covered wall, and the rock-strewn plain beyond. It only took a few minutes to take him from the spaceport to the hole-in- the-wall New Republic office. Merisu landed in front, and unstrapped Fett—but immediately hooked him to the side of the car. She'd brought along his jetpack; to complete the look, he supposed. Now, she fumbled with it, attatching it to his armor.
"Don't bother trying and fly away," she warned. "I pulled the firing mechanism, and drained the fuel tank."
She led him inside. The office was staffed by only one person; a man in his early twenties with the bored, stupid look of a herd animal.
Merisu marched directly up to the young man, with Fett in tow. He looked up at them, with a dazed look on his face.
"I'm here to collect the bounty on this merchandise."
"Merchandise?"
"There is a bounty on Boba Fett, is there not?"
"Um." He looked down at the computer screen, and poked at the keyboard a few times. "Yeah. Five hundred thousand credits, for live capture and delivery."
"He's live, he's captured, I'm delivering him."
"Um. I really can't authorize a payment that big."
"What do you mean, you can't authorize payment?"
"Well, it's a lot of money. More than our annual operating budget—for the next three years."
"That's ridiculous!"
Seeing that Merisu was thoroughly distracted, Fett eased the wire out of its hiding place. Slowly, he eased it into the lock, and began to pick it.
"So who can authorize a payment."
"I—um—don't really know."
"Who is your supervisor."
"Bel Tranek."
"Where is this Tranek?"
"She's not on-planet. She's got the authority for the whole local group."
"This is a New Republic office. The bounty on Fett was placed by the New Republic. Therefore, there must be someone on this dustball who can authorize the payment."
Finally, Fett managed to undo the lock. He tied the chain in a knot, so that it wouldn't fall and give the game away.
"This isn't going to work," he said. "We should leave."
"Without my bounty?" She didn't even bother to look at him. "You wish, Fett."
He had to work to make his voice whiny; it was not a tone that came easily to him. "You should've just turned me in as me. Dressing me up as Boba Fett—that was stupid."
The young man looked at him. "This isn't Boba Fett?"
"Of course it's Boba Fett!"
"No, I'm not. My name is Drelth Arko." He dredged the name up from memory; a small-time thief. "That was why she wanted to bring me here, instead of Coruscant. So that she could find some stupid petty little bureaucrat who wouldn't be smart enough to question who was inside the armor."
"That's not true!" He saw color flood her face. Good, get frustrated. "It's Fett—look, I'll take off the helmet, I'll show you."
"What will that prove?" Fett asked. "No one really knows what Boba Fett looks like."
"Well, it'll prove that you're not Arko!" She stepped close, reaching for the helmet.
Right into his range.
He pulled his hands apart, and back. Then he pulled the chain over his head. He clasped his hands together, and brought the doubled chain flipping down, like a weapon.
Merisu saw it coming in time to dodge to the side; it caught her on her shoulder, not the top of her head. So it didn't knock her out, but it did stagger her.
He rushed her, toppling her. She lost her grip on the chain she'd used to hold him, but he was after more; the blaster she had in a holster at her waist.
But before he could press the attack, the New Republic representative ducked back behind the counter. He popped up with a blaster of his own.
"Both of you—freeze."
Rather than obeyeing, Fett launched himself toward the door. He judged the young man correctly; he didn't have the confidence to fire a shot. Fett gained the street—and freedom.
* * *
Merisu picked herself up off the floor. She saw the young man staring at the door, blaster in his hand. His eyes were wide.
"Oh poodoo. Oh poodoo. That really was Boba Fett."
"Yeah. So you're going to give me the five hundred thousand, right?"
"Well." He cringed. "Technically, he was in your custody, not ours, when he escaped."
Merisu let out a wordless growl, and took off after Fett.
* * *
He had to get off the street.
He'd escaped, but he knew exactly how short such escapes could last. The representative would probably call out the guards—probably all of them. His armor would make him highly visible.
Fett oriented himself, and started running toward the edge of town. He'd have a better chance of escaping in the wilderness. Then, once everything died down, he could come back, steal a ship, and get off this planet.
But that was all sometime in the future. Now, he focused on one goal; gaining the edge of town.
It should be only two or three blocks away. But he could hear the sound of running feet.
"Halt!"
His pace didn't falter—didn't even slow. He altered his course only slightly; enough to dodge behind the corner of a building. Two blaster hits knocked chunks out of the wall behind him, and a third missed his shoulder by inches.
He was in trouble; not so much as a vibroblade to defend himself. Only his armor, the length of chain…and himself.
He kept running, eyes casting around for any sign of escape. He saw a doorway across the street, and ran for it.
It was a residential building; numbered doorways lined the narrow hallway. He didn't want to be here…but he'd already been spotted.
He had no choice but to go on. He began to run, though the dingy hallways. But a pair of security officers were already behind him, and closing fast. He suspected they already would have been firing, if it hadn't been a civilian area.
Fett rounded a corner—and almost slammed into a woman. She stepped back, dropped the basket she'd been carrying, and began to scream.
It was the only chance he was likely to get. He grabbed the woman, spun her around, and got his left arm around her waist. He put his other forearm across her throat, and turned—just as the security officers came around the bend.
The one in the lead skidded to a stop. His partner slammed into him, nearly knocking him down.
"Don't move!" the first one shouted.
"Get down on the floor!" the other ordered.
Fett tightened his grip on the woman. She began to whimper.
"Drop your weapons," Fett ordered.
The two officers stared at him, eyes wide.
"Now!"
They did as they were told.
"Now, back away. Slowly." When they'd backed out of blaster-grabbing range, but not out of sight, he had them lie down on the ground, their arms spread.
He was tempted, for a moment, to try and get the blasters. But he didn't want to risk losing his hostage.
If they'd gotten a message out, the rest of the security forces on their way here. He had to move fast.
He backed away, with the hostage, being careful not to trip on the basket. "I need to know if there's a way out on the side closer to the edge of town."
"Please, don't hurt me!"
"I need to get out of the city." He tried to soften his voice, without much success. "I won't hurt you, if you help me."
"That way—to the left. Then take the first right, after the utility room."
He turned around, and fast-walked her through the building. She was still trembling—but at least she hadn't succumbed to hysteria. He knew from countless experience how hard it was to drag someone kicking and screaming across hostile territory.
He dragged her down a short flight of stairs, and into the street. Now, all that was left was the wall that divided the wilderness from the city. But the gates were closed.
"Do you have the pass code?" he asked his hostage.
"Of course not! Why is space would I want to go out there?"
He sighed. It had been worth a try, at least. "What about a speeder? Do you have a speeder?"
She nodded. "It's over there." He followed her gaze to a battered-looking blue speeder. It would have to do.
"Where are the keys?"
"I—um—they were in the basket."
He looked over his shoulder, at the corner. Any minute now, all of the city's security forces would be coming around the corner. No time to hot- wire the speeder. He looked around.
The wall wasn't actually that high—not even three meters. It looked as if it was built more to keep something out, than to keep escaping criminals in. There were spikes across the top—but maybe that could be to his advantage.
He backed the hostage against the wall, and growled, "Stay." Then he eased to the side. He grabbed the far end of the heavy chain, making a loop. Then he put his hands behind his head, and jerked them forward. The loop of chain flew, and caught one of the spikes.
"Halt!" A trio of Security Officers came around the corner.
Fett grabbed the hostage, and slung her over his shoulder. Then he braced his feet, and began to climb up the wall.
"Stop, now! We can't let you take the woman!"
Fett didn't listen. Finally, he gained the top of the wall. And that was when one of the Officers took his only shot. It grazed his leg, didn't penetrate the Mandalorian armor, but knocked his balance off.
He wobbled, and the hostage rolled from his shoulder and began to fall, back first. Straight on top of one of the spikes that lined the wall. She screamed—
Fett dropped to his knees, twisted to the side, and caught her just as the spike ripped a hole in her shirt. He pulled her into his arms, twisting his body so that she was over the open air.
"Fett! Stop! Let the girl go!"
He shifted the arm he had beneath her knees to grasp her wrist, and then let her go with his other arm. He lowered her as far as he could, then dropped her. A moment later, he jumped down himself. He took her by the arm. She looked up at him, through her long fringe of bangs. "You saved my life."
"I needed a live hostage," he growled. "Come on."
"But—"
"Now!"
He led her away, into the wilderness.
* * *
"What's going on?" Merisu demanded. "Have you heard anything?"
One of the security officers nodded. "He has a hostage. He's taking her into the wilderness."
"I'm going after him."
But the head of Security shook his head. "I'm afraid not. It's not safe out there."
"Let me worry about me."
"If you try to leave, you'll be placed in protective custody."
"But, my merchandise—"
"The bounty on Boba Fett isn't worth your life, lady. And that's what it'll cost you, if you're caught out there after dark."
* * *
The hostage stumbled, and went to her knees. Fett could tell she wasn't used to this kind of activity; she had the soft body of someone more used to sitting at a desk than escaping Security Officers.
Soon, she'd become a liability. But not yet—now while they were still on the open plain. Now, she was what prevented them from taking shots at him.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her to her feet. "Move!"
"Please—I can't run anymore!"
He grabbed her arm, and pulled her forward. But he kept his pace to a slow jog. When the ground became more vertical, he slowed even more.
Finally, they reached the foothills. Now, they had to scramble on all fours, up the loose conglomeration of dirt and rock. Fett had the hostage go first, so he could keep an eye on her.
At the top of the hill, the hostage collapsed in a heap. Fett stopped for a moment, so that he could catch his breath, and then pulled her up. But now, she began to resist. He had to drag her by force into the maze of rocks and boulders. But she began to batter at his chest.
He caught her wrists, and stared into her eyes. She whimpered, and drew back. But she still struggled.
"I don't want to hurt you," Fett said.
"So let me go."
"I need a hostage."
"A live hostage. You said before you needed a live hostage. But we'll both be dead, once night falls!"
"Explain."
"That's why they built the wall. To keep the…things…out. Nobody goes outside at night, even in the city, unless they absolutely have to. Just in case. And absolutely no one goes outside the walls at night."
"Why?"
"Usually they don't find the bodies. But when they do, they're just…scraps." She was shaking now. "My sister used to be a comm officer. Before she started drinking. She told me once, when she got really crunched, about the distress call she got. Some prospector who'd waited too long, gotten trapped. She said he kept screaming, 'It's eating me, it's eating me,' over and over, for an hour and a half." The woman shuddered. "He was one of the ones they didn't find, but the interior of his speeder was covered with blood. My sister quit her job less than a week later. She's on disability now--mental stress."
Fett looked at her for a long moment, then looked at the sky. He estimated that it was an hour and a half until dark. Down on the plains, the security guards were out, searching.
"Go," he said.
The hostage looked up at him. "What?"
"If you hurry, you can make the plains by sundown. They'll see you, take you to safety."
She backed a few steps away, as if she was frightened that he'd change his mind. Then she turned, and began to run. But she'd only gone a few yards, before she turned and stopped.
"It's dangerous to be out in the open. Find someplace for the night. Barricade yourself in."
"I will."
She nodded. "Good luck. And…thank you."
She turned and began to run again. This time, she didn't stop.
Fett watched her, as she ran for safety; down the long hill, and on the plain. Merisu hadn't disabled the macrobinoculars built into his helmet; he could watch her closely. She'd barely gotten to the bottom of the hill, when one of the security speeders came to pick her up. He saw her wave her hand on one direction—at an angle from the one he'd started going.
Behind his mask, he smiled. Then he turned and began walking, into the wilderness on this nameless planet.
It was nearly dark, by the time he found a suitable place; a crevice in the rocks. He slipped in, and filled up the entrance with rocks. Then he sat down to wait.
He watched his chrono, as the green glowing numbers counted, to when he estimated local sunset would be. He was thirsty, but despite the fact that the water reservoir in his helmet was full, he didn't drink. He wouldn't put it past Merisu to have slipped a sedative into his water supply.
It should be dark outside, by now.
That was when he heard it, a hissing, clicking, slithering noise in the back of the crack where he'd taken refuge.
Whatever the people on this planet feared, it wasn't out here. Instead, he'd barricaded himself in here with it.
Out of the Frying Pan…
It was, Boba Fett thought, like swimming upward through a sea of Ihalla-tree sap, the long, slow return to consciousness. Now, at least, he could see the surface, though it still lay out of reach. But it didn't matter, he was in no hurry.
He was lying on his back, on a very comfortable bed, and in no pain. He knew that there was something he should be doing, but he couldn't remember what. Nor could he summon up much concern in the matter. He was…comfortable.
He felt movement, then; his body was being manipulated. Someone was dressing him. He desired neither to help or hinder the process; he couldn't see how it mattered.
At least, not until he felt the restraints being locked onto his wrists.
He opened his eyes, and looked up. The bounty hunter Merisu was leaning over him, checking to make sure he was secure. Taking no chances.
"You," he said.
"Me." Then she straightened. "You must be thirsty."
He nodded. She brought him a glass of water, and raised his head so he could drink it. He didn't question it; if she'd wanted him unconscious, she wouldn't have turned off the drugs.
"Where are we?" Fett asked.
She didn't answer. He supposed she'd headed straight for the closest New Republic government office. He was valuable merchandise; she'd want to exchange him for cold, hard credits before someone else decided to take him from her and collect the bounty for themselves.
Once he was turned over to the New Republic, he'd probably be taken, under heavy guard, to Coruscant. There he would stand trial for whatever crimes they decided to charge him with. Assault on Citizens of the New Republic, for one. Multiple counts; Han Solo, Leia Organa, Chewbacca…there would be others.
He was certain that, one way or another, he would never be a free man again.
He began to focus, to take stock of his condition. The cuts in his stomach and feet no longer hurt, though that could still be the lingering effects of the drugs. But as long as they'd been underway for more than two days the bacta would have healed him completely. Merisu had dressed him in his Mandalorian armor, even to the gauntlets—not so much of a surprise, when he thought about it. After all—how else would anyone know him?
And that, he realized, could be his way out.
Now, what he needed to do was lull her. He closed his eyes almost all the way, and relaxed into the mattress. The more doped-up she thought he was, the better. But he turned his head to the right, so that he could study the room.
She'd obviously spent a good chunk of their travel time disarming his equipment; the warhead from his back-mounted rocket-launcher sat beside the jetpack. The wrist-darts were also there, and even the coil of wire he would have used to entangle his prey. There were also short lengths of wire, and electronics components scattered on the countertop.
"Come on," she said, interrupting his survey. "Sit up."
He obeyed, and she put a heavy chain around his waist. He watched, as she unlocked the restraint on his left hand—on the far side of the bed—and re-locked it to the chain. Then she went to the nearer one.
She'd be expecting an escape attempt, and he gave her one. As soon as the second restraint was free, he lashed out at her, using the chain itself as a weapon.
She ducked back, out of range. That gave him the opportunity he needed. He rolled to the side, off the bed. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he launched himself toward the table with the components. The world seemed to spin wildly beneath him, but he kept his focus, and gained his objective.
He grabbed the longest piece of wire he could see, and then, in one smooth motion, grabbed one of the wrist-darts.
He slipped the wire in between the gauntlet and the sleeve of his flight suit, then began to fumble with the wrist-dart. The fumbling wasn't even feigned; his eyes could barely focus.
He saw Merisu approaching, and began to back away. Finally, he managed to get the dart set. He held out his arm in firing position, flexed his wrist—but of course, nothing happened. He hadn't been expecting it to.
He staggered back, and pressed his hand to his head. Merisu was about to tackle him, but before she got the chance, he dropped to his knees. He rolled his eyes back, and leaned against the table leg.
Gently, Merisu extracted the wrist-dart from the gauntlet, and locked the restraint into place. Then she eased Fett back, so that he was leaning against the bulkhead.
"What's wrong?"
"Dizzy," he mumbled. "I can barely…"
"Wait here."
She got up for a moment, and returned with something wrapped in a foil packet. A ration bar. She unwrapped it, and held it up so that he could eat it. He gulped it in three bites, and then slumped back against the bulkhead.
"Better?" she asked.
He didn't respond. After a moment, she unwrapped another one, and held it up. He ate that one just as eagerly.
In a few minutes, the dizziness began to recede. But he kept his eyes closed anyhow. The more he could get her to feed him, the more energy he'd have once he made his escape.
"All right," she said, sounding a little aggravated. "Last one."
After he'd eaten the last ration bar, she got up again and brought his helmet. She eased it over his head, but didn't seal it to the collar of his flight suit. Then she helped him to his feet.
He moved carefully, as if he were picking his way across a debris-strewn landscape. He was rewarded with an impatient sigh. Good, good, get annoyed, he thought.
She took him to the speeder, and strapped him in. The passenger seat was made to secure a prisoner. She turned the repulsorlifts on, opened the door, lowered the ramp, and left her ship.
There wasn't much to this city she'd brought him to. He could see the edge of town, bounded by a spike-covered wall, and the rock-strewn plain beyond. It only took a few minutes to take him from the spaceport to the hole-in- the-wall New Republic office. Merisu landed in front, and unstrapped Fett—but immediately hooked him to the side of the car. She'd brought along his jetpack; to complete the look, he supposed. Now, she fumbled with it, attatching it to his armor.
"Don't bother trying and fly away," she warned. "I pulled the firing mechanism, and drained the fuel tank."
She led him inside. The office was staffed by only one person; a man in his early twenties with the bored, stupid look of a herd animal.
Merisu marched directly up to the young man, with Fett in tow. He looked up at them, with a dazed look on his face.
"I'm here to collect the bounty on this merchandise."
"Merchandise?"
"There is a bounty on Boba Fett, is there not?"
"Um." He looked down at the computer screen, and poked at the keyboard a few times. "Yeah. Five hundred thousand credits, for live capture and delivery."
"He's live, he's captured, I'm delivering him."
"Um. I really can't authorize a payment that big."
"What do you mean, you can't authorize payment?"
"Well, it's a lot of money. More than our annual operating budget—for the next three years."
"That's ridiculous!"
Seeing that Merisu was thoroughly distracted, Fett eased the wire out of its hiding place. Slowly, he eased it into the lock, and began to pick it.
"So who can authorize a payment."
"I—um—don't really know."
"Who is your supervisor."
"Bel Tranek."
"Where is this Tranek?"
"She's not on-planet. She's got the authority for the whole local group."
"This is a New Republic office. The bounty on Fett was placed by the New Republic. Therefore, there must be someone on this dustball who can authorize the payment."
Finally, Fett managed to undo the lock. He tied the chain in a knot, so that it wouldn't fall and give the game away.
"This isn't going to work," he said. "We should leave."
"Without my bounty?" She didn't even bother to look at him. "You wish, Fett."
He had to work to make his voice whiny; it was not a tone that came easily to him. "You should've just turned me in as me. Dressing me up as Boba Fett—that was stupid."
The young man looked at him. "This isn't Boba Fett?"
"Of course it's Boba Fett!"
"No, I'm not. My name is Drelth Arko." He dredged the name up from memory; a small-time thief. "That was why she wanted to bring me here, instead of Coruscant. So that she could find some stupid petty little bureaucrat who wouldn't be smart enough to question who was inside the armor."
"That's not true!" He saw color flood her face. Good, get frustrated. "It's Fett—look, I'll take off the helmet, I'll show you."
"What will that prove?" Fett asked. "No one really knows what Boba Fett looks like."
"Well, it'll prove that you're not Arko!" She stepped close, reaching for the helmet.
Right into his range.
He pulled his hands apart, and back. Then he pulled the chain over his head. He clasped his hands together, and brought the doubled chain flipping down, like a weapon.
Merisu saw it coming in time to dodge to the side; it caught her on her shoulder, not the top of her head. So it didn't knock her out, but it did stagger her.
He rushed her, toppling her. She lost her grip on the chain she'd used to hold him, but he was after more; the blaster she had in a holster at her waist.
But before he could press the attack, the New Republic representative ducked back behind the counter. He popped up with a blaster of his own.
"Both of you—freeze."
Rather than obeyeing, Fett launched himself toward the door. He judged the young man correctly; he didn't have the confidence to fire a shot. Fett gained the street—and freedom.
* * *
Merisu picked herself up off the floor. She saw the young man staring at the door, blaster in his hand. His eyes were wide.
"Oh poodoo. Oh poodoo. That really was Boba Fett."
"Yeah. So you're going to give me the five hundred thousand, right?"
"Well." He cringed. "Technically, he was in your custody, not ours, when he escaped."
Merisu let out a wordless growl, and took off after Fett.
* * *
He had to get off the street.
He'd escaped, but he knew exactly how short such escapes could last. The representative would probably call out the guards—probably all of them. His armor would make him highly visible.
Fett oriented himself, and started running toward the edge of town. He'd have a better chance of escaping in the wilderness. Then, once everything died down, he could come back, steal a ship, and get off this planet.
But that was all sometime in the future. Now, he focused on one goal; gaining the edge of town.
It should be only two or three blocks away. But he could hear the sound of running feet.
"Halt!"
His pace didn't falter—didn't even slow. He altered his course only slightly; enough to dodge behind the corner of a building. Two blaster hits knocked chunks out of the wall behind him, and a third missed his shoulder by inches.
He was in trouble; not so much as a vibroblade to defend himself. Only his armor, the length of chain…and himself.
He kept running, eyes casting around for any sign of escape. He saw a doorway across the street, and ran for it.
It was a residential building; numbered doorways lined the narrow hallway. He didn't want to be here…but he'd already been spotted.
He had no choice but to go on. He began to run, though the dingy hallways. But a pair of security officers were already behind him, and closing fast. He suspected they already would have been firing, if it hadn't been a civilian area.
Fett rounded a corner—and almost slammed into a woman. She stepped back, dropped the basket she'd been carrying, and began to scream.
It was the only chance he was likely to get. He grabbed the woman, spun her around, and got his left arm around her waist. He put his other forearm across her throat, and turned—just as the security officers came around the bend.
The one in the lead skidded to a stop. His partner slammed into him, nearly knocking him down.
"Don't move!" the first one shouted.
"Get down on the floor!" the other ordered.
Fett tightened his grip on the woman. She began to whimper.
"Drop your weapons," Fett ordered.
The two officers stared at him, eyes wide.
"Now!"
They did as they were told.
"Now, back away. Slowly." When they'd backed out of blaster-grabbing range, but not out of sight, he had them lie down on the ground, their arms spread.
He was tempted, for a moment, to try and get the blasters. But he didn't want to risk losing his hostage.
If they'd gotten a message out, the rest of the security forces on their way here. He had to move fast.
He backed away, with the hostage, being careful not to trip on the basket. "I need to know if there's a way out on the side closer to the edge of town."
"Please, don't hurt me!"
"I need to get out of the city." He tried to soften his voice, without much success. "I won't hurt you, if you help me."
"That way—to the left. Then take the first right, after the utility room."
He turned around, and fast-walked her through the building. She was still trembling—but at least she hadn't succumbed to hysteria. He knew from countless experience how hard it was to drag someone kicking and screaming across hostile territory.
He dragged her down a short flight of stairs, and into the street. Now, all that was left was the wall that divided the wilderness from the city. But the gates were closed.
"Do you have the pass code?" he asked his hostage.
"Of course not! Why is space would I want to go out there?"
He sighed. It had been worth a try, at least. "What about a speeder? Do you have a speeder?"
She nodded. "It's over there." He followed her gaze to a battered-looking blue speeder. It would have to do.
"Where are the keys?"
"I—um—they were in the basket."
He looked over his shoulder, at the corner. Any minute now, all of the city's security forces would be coming around the corner. No time to hot- wire the speeder. He looked around.
The wall wasn't actually that high—not even three meters. It looked as if it was built more to keep something out, than to keep escaping criminals in. There were spikes across the top—but maybe that could be to his advantage.
He backed the hostage against the wall, and growled, "Stay." Then he eased to the side. He grabbed the far end of the heavy chain, making a loop. Then he put his hands behind his head, and jerked them forward. The loop of chain flew, and caught one of the spikes.
"Halt!" A trio of Security Officers came around the corner.
Fett grabbed the hostage, and slung her over his shoulder. Then he braced his feet, and began to climb up the wall.
"Stop, now! We can't let you take the woman!"
Fett didn't listen. Finally, he gained the top of the wall. And that was when one of the Officers took his only shot. It grazed his leg, didn't penetrate the Mandalorian armor, but knocked his balance off.
He wobbled, and the hostage rolled from his shoulder and began to fall, back first. Straight on top of one of the spikes that lined the wall. She screamed—
Fett dropped to his knees, twisted to the side, and caught her just as the spike ripped a hole in her shirt. He pulled her into his arms, twisting his body so that she was over the open air.
"Fett! Stop! Let the girl go!"
He shifted the arm he had beneath her knees to grasp her wrist, and then let her go with his other arm. He lowered her as far as he could, then dropped her. A moment later, he jumped down himself. He took her by the arm. She looked up at him, through her long fringe of bangs. "You saved my life."
"I needed a live hostage," he growled. "Come on."
"But—"
"Now!"
He led her away, into the wilderness.
* * *
"What's going on?" Merisu demanded. "Have you heard anything?"
One of the security officers nodded. "He has a hostage. He's taking her into the wilderness."
"I'm going after him."
But the head of Security shook his head. "I'm afraid not. It's not safe out there."
"Let me worry about me."
"If you try to leave, you'll be placed in protective custody."
"But, my merchandise—"
"The bounty on Boba Fett isn't worth your life, lady. And that's what it'll cost you, if you're caught out there after dark."
* * *
The hostage stumbled, and went to her knees. Fett could tell she wasn't used to this kind of activity; she had the soft body of someone more used to sitting at a desk than escaping Security Officers.
Soon, she'd become a liability. But not yet—now while they were still on the open plain. Now, she was what prevented them from taking shots at him.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her to her feet. "Move!"
"Please—I can't run anymore!"
He grabbed her arm, and pulled her forward. But he kept his pace to a slow jog. When the ground became more vertical, he slowed even more.
Finally, they reached the foothills. Now, they had to scramble on all fours, up the loose conglomeration of dirt and rock. Fett had the hostage go first, so he could keep an eye on her.
At the top of the hill, the hostage collapsed in a heap. Fett stopped for a moment, so that he could catch his breath, and then pulled her up. But now, she began to resist. He had to drag her by force into the maze of rocks and boulders. But she began to batter at his chest.
He caught her wrists, and stared into her eyes. She whimpered, and drew back. But she still struggled.
"I don't want to hurt you," Fett said.
"So let me go."
"I need a hostage."
"A live hostage. You said before you needed a live hostage. But we'll both be dead, once night falls!"
"Explain."
"That's why they built the wall. To keep the…things…out. Nobody goes outside at night, even in the city, unless they absolutely have to. Just in case. And absolutely no one goes outside the walls at night."
"Why?"
"Usually they don't find the bodies. But when they do, they're just…scraps." She was shaking now. "My sister used to be a comm officer. Before she started drinking. She told me once, when she got really crunched, about the distress call she got. Some prospector who'd waited too long, gotten trapped. She said he kept screaming, 'It's eating me, it's eating me,' over and over, for an hour and a half." The woman shuddered. "He was one of the ones they didn't find, but the interior of his speeder was covered with blood. My sister quit her job less than a week later. She's on disability now--mental stress."
Fett looked at her for a long moment, then looked at the sky. He estimated that it was an hour and a half until dark. Down on the plains, the security guards were out, searching.
"Go," he said.
The hostage looked up at him. "What?"
"If you hurry, you can make the plains by sundown. They'll see you, take you to safety."
She backed a few steps away, as if she was frightened that he'd change his mind. Then she turned, and began to run. But she'd only gone a few yards, before she turned and stopped.
"It's dangerous to be out in the open. Find someplace for the night. Barricade yourself in."
"I will."
She nodded. "Good luck. And…thank you."
She turned and began to run again. This time, she didn't stop.
Fett watched her, as she ran for safety; down the long hill, and on the plain. Merisu hadn't disabled the macrobinoculars built into his helmet; he could watch her closely. She'd barely gotten to the bottom of the hill, when one of the security speeders came to pick her up. He saw her wave her hand on one direction—at an angle from the one he'd started going.
Behind his mask, he smiled. Then he turned and began walking, into the wilderness on this nameless planet.
It was nearly dark, by the time he found a suitable place; a crevice in the rocks. He slipped in, and filled up the entrance with rocks. Then he sat down to wait.
He watched his chrono, as the green glowing numbers counted, to when he estimated local sunset would be. He was thirsty, but despite the fact that the water reservoir in his helmet was full, he didn't drink. He wouldn't put it past Merisu to have slipped a sedative into his water supply.
It should be dark outside, by now.
That was when he heard it, a hissing, clicking, slithering noise in the back of the crack where he'd taken refuge.
Whatever the people on this planet feared, it wasn't out here. Instead, he'd barricaded himself in here with it.