Sorry this update took so long. Like I said, it's crunch time!
Chapter three or four (Sorry, I can't remember)
The first thing that Fidel was aware of was the rope biting into his wrists and ankles. The next thing was the heat. It felt like he was roasting over a spit. Struggling to sit up, he tried to remember what had happened. Oh yeah. The swoop guys. Looks like the end of the road, Fi. Well, at least he was going to die in relative freedom, rather than in a prison. Looking over the desert, he took in the sight (All that one can take in in the desert). He was tied up on the top of a relatively rocky dune, overlooking the Dune Sea. Seeing the rocks gave him an idea. He felt a smile creep on his face. Maybe this wasn't the end after all. Fidel twisted around, trying to get a 360 degree view of the area around him. The smile slowly transformed into a scowl. The galaxy could be so cruel sometimes. No sharp rocks were nearby. No chance to saw the ropes. Fidel sighed dejectedly, suddenly noticing how thirsty he was. Maybe this wasn't such a great way to die. Swallowing painfully, he laid back down and tried to sleep.
Boba sped over yet another sand dune. By his calculations, Masdon had been out in the Tatooine heat for almost 3 hours, which could be fatal. Boba's scanner started beeping insistently. A human life form just on the next rise. Topping the dune, he slowed the swoop until it was hovering. The scanner showed that Masdon was in the immediate vicinity. Shutting the swoop down, Boba got off and started walking the ridge of the dune. Glancing ahead, Boba saw a shape lying prone in the sand. Quickening his steps, he brought out a canteen of water -- he couldn't have his merchandise dying on him. When he reached the unconscious young man, he knelt down and checked his pulse. A bit slow, but that was to be expected. The immediate dangers now were heat stroke and dehydration, but first things first. Taking a vibro-blade, Boba cut the ropes off of Masdon, his purpose being to get the circulation going again. He somehow doubted that Carl Masdon would want his son back with no hands or feet. Sith, it was hot out here. "Decrease temperature to 75 degrees Fahrenheit." What Masdon really needed was shade, which you didn't get much on a planet such as Tatooine. Boba glanced at Masdon. He looked like he was in heat exhaustion, the beginnings of heat stroke. Sighing in resignation, Boba hauled Masdon over his shoulder and carried him to the swoop and laid him in the relative shade of the small craft. Kneeling beside him, he lifted Masdon's head and poured some water from his canteen into the young man's dry mouth. The only reaction Boba got was a weak cough, nothing more. Looking at Masdon again, Boba suddenly noticed that he wasn't sweating. Heat stroke. Cursing under his breath, Boba jerked off his Mandalorian helmet and placed it over Masdon's head, ordering the temperature down even more. Even though the helmet controlled his armor, it also had a miniature air conditioning unit in it. Blinking at the sudden brightness, Boba closed his eyes before sitting down beside his merchandise.
Fidel woke to a cold breeze on his face. Man, it felt nice. Forcing his eyes open, he was momentarily disoriented. He was looking at a twilight sky through a T. I must be hallucinating, like I am this breeze on my face. Everyone knew that it didn't get cold on Tatooine. "I see that you are awake." Fidel felt a sudden thrill of fear. He'd been caught. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire, he thought wryly. It was over. Again. No, don't think that. Those swoop jocks didn't take my blasters. I still have a chance. Sitting up carefully, Fidel felt the helmet being lifted from his head and winced at the sudden change in temperature. "You need to drink." Hearing his captor's voice again, he turned around and studied him. Outwardly, he remained relatively calm. Inwardly, he was reeling from shock. I sure made someone mad to have made them hire Boba Fett. "Drink this." Fidel took the canteen offered to him and eagerly drank all its contents. He felt rejuvenated almost instantly. Now all he needed to do was wait for the opportune moment….. Sighing, he leaned his head against the bounty hunter's swoop and closed his eyes.
Boba looked at Masdon's face. He looked younger in person than he did in the holo-picture. In fact, he looked to be about Boba's age. He wondered if he and Masdon would have been friends, had there been different circumstances. Shoving that thought angrily from his mind, Boba berated himself sharply. He had no business of thinking of Masdon as a human, or even a sentient life form. To do so would make him lenient and vulnerable. And in the hob of bounty hunting, he could afford neither. True, he was not cruel, he did not approve of unnecessary killing, but if he had to, he would kill without hesitation. Boba looked away from his prisoner and at the darkening sky. He would later regret that he did that.
Fidel slowly opened his eyes and glanced at Fett. Good, his back was turned. With painstaking slowness, Fidel reached under his vest and quietly unholstered one of his blasters.
Boba tensed, sensing movement from behind his back. It could be nothing more than Masdon shifting positions, but his gut feeling told him that that was not the case. Every instinct was screaming at him to attack. Whirling suddenly, he took everything in in a second. Masdon had somehow gotten a blaster, and was now pointing it at his (Boba's) chest. Not wasting a moment, he lunged and tackled Masdon, knocking the blaster away from him in the process, and tried to pin him to the ground. Boba expected it to be fairly easy; with Masdon recovering from both heat stroke and dehydration, but Masdon was fighting for his freedom, which gave him a slight edge. Gathering his feet under him, Masdon struck out, hitting Boba square in the chest and sending him rolling down the dune. He was able to stop himself before rolling too far down, but during that time, Masdon had gotten the blaster again.
Fidel hadn't expected a fight. He'd just thought that he's stun Fett and get outta there. He'd severely underestimated the bounty hunter. Never underestimate an enemy, Fi, never. Although he was loath to kill anyone, he would have to shoot Fett if he wanted out of this situation. Sighing in resignation, he thumbed the blaster to the highest setting and fired.
How's that for a cliffie? I love feedback, but if you don't have the time, don't worry about it!