Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas. I only want to play with it for a while, for fun and most definitely not profit. Please don't sue me!

Becomes the Hunted

Boba Fett shook his head to clear it and rolled to his side, to see the burning wreck of the speeder behind him. He wouldn't have thought that Merisu would pull something like that--she didn't seem quite that stupid.

He'd kill her. Slowly.

He barely saw the movement at the top of the hill, out of the corner of his eye. He brought the macrobinoculars in his helmet to bear. He was surprised to see that it wasn't Merisu.

It was a large, green, reptilian creature.

Bossk.

He snap-rolled to his feet, and scrambled to scant cover behind a boulder. Just in time; a blaster bolt slammed into the ground where he'd been lying.

Bossk was playing for keeps, if he was willing to forego collecting the half-a-million credits the New Republic was offering for his live capture.

He'd seen the Trandoshan at Elbo's court; even heard him outside his cell, asking to watch. Watch as he was tortured to death.

But he supposed that Bossk would be satisfied merely to watch him die, even if it was a quick death, not the drawn-out, agonizing show that Elbo and his torturer had planned for him.

Fett lay still, for now, and took stock of the situation. He could see Bossk--the Trandoshan had a commanding view of the ravine he was in. Though he'd gotten to cover, it was barely enough. Still, it was better than trying to sprint the whole length of the ravine. There was no cover, there--the Trandoshan could lay down enough fire to catch him--and he couldn't fire back. Even his famed Mandalorian armor couldn't protect him from sustained blaster fire forever.

But Fett couldn't see any direct path down the mountain. If Bossk wanted to come down, he'd have to either pick his way over rough territory, or go around the mountain. And the Trandoshan's impatience was his weakness--sooner, rather than later, he'd come down from his perch.

It was just a matter of patience.

* * *

Less than half an hour later, he saw Bossk moving. As Fett had expected, he took the most direct route--directly down the mountain.

Fett was about to make a sprint for the end of the ravine, when he saw the other hunter stumble. On the steep hillside, there was no recovering. Fett watched, as the Trandoshan tumbled down the hill.

Bossk was nothing if not tough, and Fett had no doubt he'd land very little the worse for wear. But he would be stunned, and winded--and that might be enough.

Fett pushed himself to his feet. For a moment, he swayed where he stood--he'd eaten nothing but three energy bars in the past four--or more-- days, and had no sleep the night before. But the dizziness passed quickly, and he walked over to where he anticipated Bossk would land.

He had hoped that the rifle would arrive as well, but it hadn't been heavy enough to fall more than a few meters down the hillside.

He'd calculated correctly. Bossk flopped to the ground, not a meter from where he stood. He lay stunned, and Fett took the opportunity to bend down, hoping to grab the blaster from Bossk's belt before he could recover.

No such luck. Bossk opened his eyes, and took a swipe at Fett's head, forcing him to duck back out of range. He bellowed, and leaped to his feet.

Fett took two more steps back--just before the Trandoshan took another swing at him. Bossk bellowed, and charged, but Fett sidestepped him. He overran, and was forced to charge again. Fett turned to face his opponent once again--and felt another wave of dizziness. He stepped to the right, widening his stance to steady himself.

"C'mon Fett--what are you waiting for?" Bossk taunted.

A worthy opponent," Fett said, just loud enough for Bossk to hear it.

The comment had its desired effect--Bossk charged again, and again Fett ducked to the side. But he knew he couldn't keep this up for long. The Trandoshan was fresh, despite his fall.

And indeed, he came charging again. But this time, when he ducked to the side, Fett didn't go far. Instead, he stepped, dropped to one knee, and kicked out his other leg. It worked--Bossk went sprawling into the dirt. Fett clawed his way to his feet, but Bossk was nearly as fast. Or rather, Fett was slow.

He'd have to end this fight--before the Trandoshan had a chance to wear him down even further.

Bossk seemed to sense his weakness, because he started laughing. "Come on, Fett--give it up!"

Bossk was expecting weakness--Fett would give it to him. He took two quick steps toward Bossk--but then moaned, doubled over, and dropped to his knees.

Bossk began to laugh. "That Twi'lek sure did a number on you, Fett. I hope, after I bring you back, that Elbo lets me watch him finish the job."

So it was a bounty for Elbo--worse and worse. Not, Fett reflected, that he was planning on going with Bossk, in any case. If that stupid Trandoshan would just stop gloating over his presumed victory--!

Finally, the big Trandoshan bent down over Fett. "Don't even think about dying on me."

In response, Fett curled himself even tighter, forcing Bossk to lean in forward. Closer...closer...

Fett snapped his head up, slamming the top of his helmet into the bottom of Bossk's jaw. When the Trandoshan staggered back, Fett sprang to his feet, and dove as if to tackle him. But instead, his fingers closed on the butt of the blaster. He pulled it free and fired three quick bolts at Bossk. The first two caught the other hunter's blast vest, but the third scored across the Trandoshan's arm. Bossk roared--but noticed the blaster in Fett's hand.

"Clever," the Trandoshan said. "But you'd better be careful--there's only a few shots left."

It wasn't hard to resist the temptation to check--it could very easily be a trick. But neither did he fire--it would be just like Bossk, to wander out without fully charging his blaster. He watched, as Bossk backed away. Finally, when the Trandoshan had backed around the corner, Fett checked the charge on the blaster. Bossk had been telling the truth-- there was only enough for four shots--maybe five.

He wondered what the bounty-hunting business was coming to, between Bossk not keeping his blaster fully charged, and Merisu coming after him with only a stun pistol.

He sighed, turned, and started walking toward the far end of the ravine.

He didn't want to be there when Bossk came venturing back. Bossk--or Merisu.

He wondered whether they'd met up yet. Maybe they'd simply annihilate each other--though of course, he couldn't trust his life to that happening.

* * *

As the day wore on, walking became more and more a battle against himself-- against the exhaustion that made it seem like every step he took was in a mire. Even just walking, he was winded--the altitude was just enough higher to effect him, and when combined with his other problems, it was enough to leech his strength. But he didn't dare stop--even for a moment. Because he knew that, somewhere out there, Bossk was still hunting him. And Merisu--he doubted that she was smart enough to quit, even now.

Finally, in the midafternoon, after hours of walking, he saw the end of the steep-sided canyon. Fett nearly made the mistake of walking out. But even pushed and exhausted as he was, he knew it could all-too-easily be a trap. So he approached cautiously--and he was right--when he scanned for heat, he found that someone was waiting, just outside the canyon.

He was trapped.

He paused for a moment, to survey the territory. Whoever was watching and waiting was in the shadow of the hill--and there was an outcropping.

He crept as close as he could, seeking the best places to aim. Then he fired, three shots in quick succession. The rocks collapsed--and Fett heard someone yelling.

He slipped forward, to find Bossk trapped in rocks up to his thighs. But he was still upright--and mad.

Fett walked to just out of Bossk's arm-range.

"You wouldn't--Fett--Fett!"

He pulled the trigger.

And nothing happened. He'd run out of charge.

He saw Bossk go limp with relief, but then tense again. He raised one clawed hand, ready to defend himself.

And Fett knew he couldn't win--not like this. He'd have to be the one to do the moving, darting in and out of range. Either that, or stand back and throw rocks.

He shook his head--a mistake, because instead of clearing his head, it just re-awakened the dizziness.

He needed food, sleep, to get down to the lower altitude.

And then, he saw it, out of the corner of his eye. It was a slow- moving vehicle--some kind of train, running along a single track.

It might, he realized, be his only chance to slip back into the city.

"Your lucky day," he growled at Bossk. Then he turned, and began to run.

The thin air felt like it was burning in his lungs, and if he'd been running uphill, or even on flat ground, he couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes. As it was, gravity was doing much of the work. But still, he had to fight to stay on his feet, on the steep, rough ground. More than once, he nearly fell, but somehow he managed to keep his feet.

And then, finally, he was down. He sucked in one more breath of air, and lurched forward into a staggering run, toward the tracks. He wasn't going to make it--

He gritted his teeth, and threw everything he had into forward motion. He'd pay for it later--but he doubted he could find shelter before dark.

It began to pass in front of him. It would be gone...it was now or never--

He lunged forward, and grabbed for the railing. But he misjudged the speed, and it jerked him off his feet. He kicked, trying to get a leg up-- and his left leg slammed into the wheel. He managed to twist away before his foot was pulled under, and finally got one leg up, and then the other.

He climbed up the side of the container, and finally gained the roof. There was a hatch, so he opened it. But this one was filled with water.

He had to work his way forward, on the swaying cars. Finally, on the third one up, he found what he was looking for--the food stores.

He lowered himself into the car, leaving the hatch open for light. He kicked one of the boxes open, to find it was full of dried pasta. Maybe not. And the next three were no better either; one was filled with bed linens, another with dresses and the one after that with toothpaste. But the next one contained prepackaged cream-filled snack cakes. Better. Not the most nutritious food in the galaxy, but even the thought of food was making his stomach growl.

He doffed his helmet, ripped open the first box, stripped off the plastoid covering, and devoured the cake in two bites. Ordinarily it would have been too sweet for his taste, but he was so hungry, now, he would have happily eaten pretty much anything.

But he forced himself to stop after four--he didn't want to make himself sick. He put his helmet on, set the alarm to wake him in an hour, and closed his eyes.

* * *

He seemed to drop immediately into the dream. He was watching, disembodied, his own torment. Id Radoona, Elbo the Hutt's torturer, hummed to himself as he worked, cutting, burning, twisting. He paused long enough to pick up a bottle, and poured it onto the open wounds. Fett--the Fett on the table--threw his head back and screamed, all that came out was only a breathy squeal. And the Fett who watched knew, with the horrific clarity of dreams, that his voice had given out from screaming--and that his mind had given out, as well. Merisu's rescue, the escape...he'd hallucinated it all, and ongoing torment and eventual death were his reality.

* * *

He jerked out of the dream so hard that the back of his helmet slammed into the side of the train, so hard that his vision exploded in a painful burst of white light. He sucked in gulps of air, suddenly feeling trapped and suffocated by his own helmet. He yanked it off, and took a few, deep breaths, before checking the chrono.

He'd slept for about forty minutes, and if anything, he felt worse than before. The hunger had returned, so he poked around a bit more, looking for anything more palatable than the snack cakes, but found nothing. So he ate two more of the cakes, before sealing himself back in the helmet.

But he knew that he needed to plan--after all, he couldn't simply walk into the city in full armor.

He pushed himself to his feet, and began to look around. He felt the train sway beneath him, as it went around a bend, and automatically compensated to keep his balance. After running through his ship while it was being fired upon, a gently swaying train was nothing.

But then, he heard something--a heavy, clanging thud, like something had fallen on the roof of the train. But he knew, instinctively, that it wasn't rocks.

And indeed, he heard footsteps--with the harsh sound of claws.

It was Bossk up there. And now he was trapped.