[Boba Fett] - 1(25)

The moons of Bogden. That was a start.

Boba did a search in the ship’s database. Bogden was a swampy, uninhabited planet in a far sector, surrounded by

“numerous

tiny satellites.”

The moons of Bogden…

Boba punched in the coordinates. Then he hit the hyperdrive switch, and hoped for the best.

The stars started to dance as hyperspace wrinkled around the starship. Boba leaned back and crossed his fingers for luck.

“Here goes, Dad,” he breathed as he closed his eyes. “I’ll do my best to make you proud of me.”





CHAPTER NINETEEN


Even though Boba had looked up Bogden in the database, he wasn’t prepared for what he found when. Slave I came out of hyperspace. “Numerous’ satellites” indeed!

He was orbiting what looked like a handful of pebbles someone had tossed into the air.

Bogden was a small, gray planet, surrounded by a swarm of tiny moons. Boba counted nineteen before he quit. It was hard to keep them straight. They were all shapes and sizes. The smallest was barely big enough for a ship to land on, while the largest had room for mountains, a city or two, and even a dry sea.

Day and night were erratic on these tiny circling worlds. Some were in darkness, some in light. Several had atmospheres; most did not. Boba scanned them all, looking for a city with a spaceport; or at least a town with a spaceport; or at least a town.

Many of the moons seemed uninhabited. Boba rejected one pear-shaped lump that oozed volcanic fumes, and another that was covered from pole to pole with gravestones. He decided against one that was covered in ivy that looked carnivorous. He passed on one that was all ice and one that was all ash and smoldering embers.

Finally Boba located a moon that was roughly spherical, half in light and half in darkness. At least it looked occupied.

He aimed for the largest cluster of lights he could find. The atmosphere was thin and shallow, and soon Slave I was in an approach trajectory over what looked like a small city scattered through several rocky valleys.

The ID-scan gave the moon’s name as Bogg 4.

Boba aimed for a wedge of lights that looked like a landing pad. He clicked Slave 1 out of auto and began to set her down.

Smoothly and easily, and then…

Whoa! Something was rocking the ship, almost like a windstorm.

Boba fought the controls, trying to slow the descent.

Later he remembered a joke that went, “It wasn’t the fall that was bad. It was just the last centimeter.”

So it was with Boba. He made a perfect landing except for the very last part.

CRUNCH!

Slave I was tipped over on its side. Boba tried to right it, but it wouldn’t move. According to his damage control panel, he had bent one of the landing struts.

At least no one was watching. The landing pad seemed deserted. Boba got out of the cockpit to survey the damage.

He felt dizzy. It looked bad. Two struts were good but the third was bent almost double.

He had no idea how to fix it. He got the flight bag down from the cockpit and looked through it for a repair manual. But there was only the black book his father had left him.

Boba pulled the black book out of the flight bag. Maybe there would be something in it that he could use. If he ever needed it, it was now!

The book opened easily. On the screen inside were two lines, looking like something out of Jango Fett’s code:

Never tell the whole truth in a trade. A favor is an investment.

Darn! Nothing about landing gear, Boba thought, closing the book.

He was putting it back into the flight bag when he heard a high-pitched voice behind him: “Whose ship?”

Boba turned.

A small humanoid was approaching. He had beady eyes, a long snout, and narrow, hooved legs. Boba recognized him by his chin beard and purple turban as a H’drachi from the planet M’Haeli. But modified: His right arm had been replaced with a multipurpose tool extension.

He wore coveralls with words stitched over the pocket:

HONEST GJON

STARSHIP SERVICE

“we will warp you”

“My ship,” Boba said. Then he remembered that he was just ten, and looked it. “I mean - it’s my father’s.”

“And where mmight this father of yours be?” asked the H’drachi.

“Unavailable at the moment,” said Boba. “But you can talk to me.”

“Honest Gjon at your service,” said the H’drachi. “This is mmy landing pad. Which mmeans you owe me a landing fee. And it looks like you mmay need repairs as well.”

“Looks like it,” Boba admitted. Still feeling dizzy, he checked in his pocket for the credits Whrr had given him. He had planned to spend them on food and fuel. But now…

“How much to fix a strut?” he asked.

“How mmuch you got?” asked Honest Gjon. Boba was just about to say two hundred and fifty credits, when he remembered the black book: