[Boba Fett] - 1(3)

Boba didn’t like its narrow eyes and huge mouth. Or the way it swallowed the little sea-mice in one gulp - then digested them slowly, taking all day.

It was creepy.

Jango Fett usually fed the eel. But now it was Boba’s job. The note had said it all: We’ll be back when these are gone.

Boba knew that his dad thought it was important for his son to learn to do what was necessary, even when it was creepy. Even when it was cruel.

The bounty hunter is free of attachments was one of his sayings. Another was: Life feeds on death.

On the third morning, when Boba woke up and heated his breakfast, there were three sea-mice left

He decided to spare one. He felt sorry for the sea-mice with their big brown eyes. What if he gave the eel his own breakfast - or, say, half of it?

He could hear his dad’s voice in his ear: Vary your routine. Patterns are traps. (JFC)

“Okay, Dad,” Baba said.

Boba broke his breakfast roll in two and dropped half into the eel’s tank. It was gone in an instant.

Then he reached down into the bowl and picked up one of the sea-mice. The sea-mouse made it easy, grabbing Boba’s fingers with his tiny paws.

Maybe he knows I’m not going to feed him to the eel, Boba thought. But no, each of the others had looked at him in exactly the same way, right before he had dropped them into the eel’s tank.

This one has it right, though, Boba thought. have to make him gone, but I can do it another way. I am going to give him his freedom.p>

That was the plan, anyway.

Boba took the sea-mouse into the hall, down the turbolift, and out to the courtyard behind the apartment building.

He set him down in the weed garden. “So long, little sea-mouse,” he said. “You’re free.”

The sea-mouse looked up at Boba, more terrified than happy. Maybe he doesn’t know what freedom is, Boba thought. Boba gave him a push with his fingertips, and the tiny creature disappeared into the tall, rain-wet grass. A little wave of movement in the grass showed where he was going.

Then a bigger wave intersected it.

Boba heard a tiny scream - then silence.





CHAPTER THREE


That afternoon Boba went to the library. It always made him feel better to go to the library. Well, not always, but often.

He stuck the books he was returning into the slot. The light came on, and Whrr whirred and clicked. “Boba!” he said, “How’re you feeling?”

“Not great,” said Boba. He told Whrr what had happened with the sea-mouse.

“Not great,” agreed Whrr, “but at least you tried. Life is hard on the weak and the small, I guess.”

“What do you mean, you guess?” asked Boba. “Don’t you know?”

“Not really,” said Whrr. “That’s why, I stay in here, out of the way.” He whirred his change the subject noise. “Ready for some new books? Did you actually finish these?”

“Mostly,” said Boba. “I like to read about navigation and starship flying.”

“You are reading faster,” said Whrr, passing the new books through the slot. “That’s good!” “Why is that good?”

“You can read more books!”

Boba had to laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” Whrr asked. He sounded a little offended.

“My dad says, if you are a pilot, everything looks like a ship,” said Boba.

“So?”

“So, Whrr, if you had your way, everybody would read books.”

“So? I don’t understand what’s so funny about that,” Whrr said, with a disapproving click.

“Never mind, see ya later!” Boba said, and he took his books and ran.

Time to get rid of another sea-mouse.

Boba woke up determined to try to do the right thing this time. He gave the eel all his breakfast. The eel ate it in one gulp.

There were only two sea-mice left in the bowl. They both looked up at him with their little brown eyes pleading.

“I have to make you gone,” Boba said as he picked one up. “But I’m not going to feed you to the eel. I’m going to set you free for real.”

He locked the apartment door and took the turbolift down to the street. He stuck the sea-mouse inside his shirt so no one could see it.

It seemed to like it there. When Boba pulled it out it was sleeping.

He held it out in the rain as he walked toward the edge of Tipoca City. He wanted to watch its paw turn into a flipper, but it only turned halfway.

I guess it takes seawater, Boba thought, heading toward the sound of the waves.

Tipoca City is built on a platform over the sea. Huge waves boom and bang and crash, day and night. Kamino is called the “Planet of Storms.”

Boba hung onto the railing and leaned over the edge of the platform. He looked down, waiting for a lull in the waves.