And under it all was a low hum, a constant buzz of activity. Boba heard two Nemoidians talking about “the dig” and “the harvester,” but they turned a corner and were gone before he could hear more.
Boba made his way down the halls and around the corners, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. He had learned that it was easy for a ten year-old to be invisible, as long as he stayed out of the way.
The droids and workers were all intent on their tasks. And none of them knew or cared who Boba was, except for Prax. All Boba had to do was avoid him.
The air in the corridor was growing colder. The toxic smell was stronger. Ahead, Boba saw a large opening to the outside. Droids and workers streamed in and out, some carrying strange-looking tools, others riding on square all-terrain vehicles.
He was trying to get a better look when he heard a familiar voice: “Give us results!”
That harsh, booming sound was familiar. Cydon Prax? Boba wasn’t taking any chances. He ducked into a nearby room and flattened himself against the wall.
To his surprise, he was facing a window. The view was just like the ones he had seen earlier. The window overlooked a lake surrounded by woods, with a clear blue sky overhead.
Again, Boba wondered how such a view could exist on Raxus Prime. And why was the view exactly the same every time he saw it? How could three rooms in different places have the same view?
He approached the window and reached out to touch it. It was soft, like a plastic curtain. As soon as he touched it, the scene changed. Now he saw bright blue-green water lapping against silvery sands.
He touched the window again.
Snow-covered peaks watching over an icy planet.
Now I get it! Boba thought. It was all a display, a virtual window showing a virtual scene. A series of illusions installed by the Count.
Boba touched the viewscreen one last time and saw toxic steam belching from piles of trash and slag, under a reddish, smoke-stained sky. This was the real world - Raxus Prime. The beautiful views were just fabrications.
In the distance was a tower with huge arms, moving up and down. It looked like a giant robot. Was it real, or an illusion? Boba couldn’t tell. Here in the Count’s lair, it was impossible to tell the truth from a lie.
Suddenly, Boba heard a distinctive set of footsteps in the hallway - the heavy tread of Prax patrolling. In the blank room, there was nowhere to hide. Boba held himself close to the wall, next to the doorway. If Prax peered in, Boba would be fine. If Prax walked inside, he’d be caught.
The footsteps came closer. Then stopped. Right outside the room. Boba held his breath. The door opened. Prax stuck his head into the room.
The window is wrong, Boba realized. Too late. There was no way to hide the scene of Raxus Prime.
Prax was no more than a meter away from Boba. If he turned his head, it would all be over.
For a long second, everything remained still. Then Prax grunted and pulled his head out of the room.
Boba waited a few minutes, until he was sure Prax was gone again. Then he slipped back out into the hall and headed toward the other creatures near the exit.
Boba stood to one side and looked out the giant doorway. Through the swirling mists he saw the tower he had seen through the “window.” The tower was definitely real. It was the focus of all the activity; a crude dirt road from the door to the tower’s base was crowded with vehicles, droids, and workers carrying equipment, some coming and others going out.
Boba was fascinated. This must be the Count’s “dig.”
What was he digging for? The Count had made it sound like something very powerful… which would make it something a bounty hunter should know about.
There was one way to find out the truth.
CHAPTER FIVE
Whew! What a stink! The sky was dark, with swirling smoke; the ground was heaped with the trash, and garbage from thousand planets. The twisted wreckage of hundreds of crashed ships stretched into the distance. The air was almost too foul to breathe.
Luckily, Boba had brought his father’s battle helmet. He put it over his head as he started out on the road, toward the tower, The helmet was surprisingly light, and it made breathing easier; though it had no independent air supply, its filters removed the worst of Raxus Prime’s poisons.
Self-sufficiency, thought Boba, begins with the right equipment.
The road angled up a ridge of oozing slag. Boba slogged along, his boots slipping in the soft terrain. At the top, where the road crested the ridge, he stopped to rest.
From here he could see the tower much better. It was a crane. The arms were equipped with drills and vats, which dipped deep into the muck of Raxus Prime. Lights from the top of the tower illuminated a great pit, where droids and workers toiled in and out of the vapors and the darkness.