[Boba Fett] - 4(13)

Uneasy laughter rang out from the others in the room. Jabba leaned forward, peering at Boba with cunning eyes.

“You say that Jango Fett sent you? I had heard that he was dead. Killed by the Jedi on Geonosis. Is this true?”

Once again Boba was glad the helmet hid his face.

“Yes,” he said. The word came out almost as a gasp. “Yes, it is true.”

“I know of Jango’s skill. He was courageous, and a man of his word. He was one of the finest bounty hunters in the galaxy.”

“Some might say the very finest,” interjected Boba without thinking

“Hmmmm.” Jabba’s eyes narrowed. “You, too, Mandalorian intruder, seem to have courage. But you have broken a rule by coming here. So I will give you a choice.”

Jabba’s flabby arm gestured at the viewscreen. Nearly everyone inside the dome was now clustered in front of it, eagerly watching a Podrace. “Tell me who you think will win this race. If you are correct, I will take you with me to my B’omarrian Palace. There you will serve me.”

Boba nodded. “Thank you,” he began, but Jabba raised a hand to cut him off.

“If you are wrong, you will still accompany me to my palace - but you will not serve me. Instead you will be served - to one of my pit beasts!”





CHAPTER TWELVE


Boba turned to stare at the monitor. Numbers and words scrolled across the bottom of the viewscreen. Statistics, the names of this evening’s Podracers, their homeworlds, and racing class. Then the image changed. Boba saw the inside of the, huge arena, packed with shouting, cheering, waving viewers.

I wonder if Ygabba’s in there somewhere, Boba thought. I wonder if she ever found the weapons shipment.

But he couldn’t wonder for long.

“Three more minutes!” shouted Estral, the gamemaster. “All bets must be in!”

Sleek machines flashed across the viewscreen - the Podracers. Boba watched them eagerly.

Man, I’d love to get my hands on one of those!

High-combustion engines made it possible for the Podracers to reach speeds of eight hundred kilometers an hour. Pit droids scrambled around the vehicles. They adjusted fuel levels and made last-minute repairs. Boba would have been glad to pilot any one of the racers - but which one was going to win tonight?

“Two more minutes!” cried the Etti.

Boba angled closer to the viewscreen. Now it showed profiles of the various racers. Boba recognized a few of them - the dinosaurian Chros-filik of Phu; Gasgano; Ody Mandrel, LobwuWa Loba, a thuggish Aqualish who seemed to be a local favorite; the eager young Aleena, Mab Kador, in his retrofitted White Panther.

But there were others, too, names and faces Boba had never seen before. How could he possibly choose the one who would beat the rest? Humans and aliens alike were massed inside the arena, making bets. Many of them would lose their life fortunes before the night was through. A few would probably lose their lives.

Boba didn’t want to be one of them.

Despite the cool air inside the dome, a trickle of sweat began to inch down Boba’s neck. His shoulder hurt where the helmet chafed his skin. He rubbed it gingerly, thinking hard. Jabba’s guests crowded around the Etti gamemaster, shoving credits into his long thin hands.

“One minute!” he cried.

From the corner of his eye, Boba saw Jabba watching him. Quickly the young bounty hunter looked back at the viewscreen.

The statistics showed that Mab Kador had been undefeated for the last three races. He looks young and hungry, Boba thought, and he has a great Podracer. That’s who I’d back. That’s who I’d want to win.

But was that who Jabba was backing in the race? Boba had heard that the criminal overlord controlled everything on Tatooine, from blaster smuggling to the import of illegal spices. Every gambling den was under Hutt supervision. Every petty criminal paid tribute to Jabba. So did every rising crime lord. Those who grew too ambitious, those who tried to double-cross Jabba, were sought out by bounty hunters and brought to Jabba’s palace.

Even on remote Kamino, Boba had heard horrible stories of what happened inside the fortress of Jabba the Hutt. He had never thought he might see it for himself.

“Twenty seconds!”

Boba swallowed. His hand slid into his pocket and touched his father’s book. He didn’t dare take it out, but just feeling it reassured him a little.

For knowledge you must find Jabba. He will not give it; you must take it.

“Time’s up!”

Boba let his breath out. When he lifted his head, he saw Jabba gazing at him with those wicked, serpentlike eyes.

“So, young Mandalorian! Have you made your choice?”

Everyone inside the dome crowded in front of the viewscreen - everyone except for Boba and Jabba the Hutt. The gangster’s pale tongue flicked from his mouth. He reached into a large basket overflowing with Ylesian white worms, grabbed a handful of squirming grubs, and shoved them into his mouth. Boba felt sick. From the viewscreen came the roar of the arena’s crowd as the signal was given.