[Boba Fett] - 4(9)

“But we have nothing to trade,” said a small Tatooine boy.

A grin spread across Ygabba’s face. “That never stopped us before!” she said. The others laughed. Boba walked up beside her.

“So you’re all thieves,” he said accusingly. He grabbed her arm. “Well, I’m not. I want my things. Give them to me and I’ll go.”

Ygabba looked him up and down.

“What do you know about us?” she said at last. “You’d steal, too, if you were starving. Many of us have been separated from our families. Others watched as their parents were killed by thugs.”

Her brilliant blue eyes stared at him. Boba stared back.

“I saw my father killed, too,” he said quietly. “I know what it’s like to be alone. I know what it’s like not to trust.” He shook his head. “But I’ve never stolen anything in my life. And I won’t start now.”

The girl looked at him. Her expression softened.

“Your father,” she said. “That helmet - it was his?”

Boba nodded.

“And the book?”

“Yes,” said Boba.

Ygabba stood there, thinking. Finally she reached into her pocket.

“Here,” she said. She handed him his book. “I’m sorry we took it.”

Boba slid it into his packet. “What about my helmet?”

“No.” She looked behind them, to where the other children milled around. They were waiting for her to lead them out. “What I told you was true. It’s safer here. There are many, many thieves in Mos Espa. Bigger ones than us. Scarier ones. I’ll give you your helmet back later. I promise.”

“That’s not good enough. I need it,” said Boba. It was not a plea, but a command. “Now.”

The girl stared at him for a long time. Finally she nodded.

“All right,” she said. She turned and climbed back onto the shelf and opened the storage compartment. A minute later she returned with the helmet.

“Here,” she said.

She held it out to Boba. He grasped it, but her hands did not let go.

“You owe me for this,” she said, and drew her hands back.

“Owe you?” said Boba hotly. He clutched the helmet to his chest. “For stealing my helmet?”

“No. For teaching you to be more careful with it.”

The girl walked away, gesturing for some of the other children to come with her to find food. Boba watched her, then followed, the helmet still in his hands.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said grudgingly. “But I’m still not going to become a thief.”

Ygabba shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She pushed at a piece of scrap metal that served as a door, and stepped out into an alley choked with garbage. “Sooner or later, people like us end up here with Libkath. There’s no place else to go.”

Boba followed her outside. “Who is Libkath?” he asked.

“An exiled Neimoidian,” said the girl. “At least, I think he’s an exile. I’m not sure. The other kids, they don’t even wonder who he really is. But I do. All the time. He gives us shelter and food. Not much, but better than nothing. He protects us from the Hutt gangsters. In return we do what he asks.”

“Do you ever actually see him?” said Boba. “I mean, the real him, and not just a holo.”

“Yes.” Ygabba shuddered. “Believe me - the holo is better.”

Boba thought of those evil glowing eyes boring into him. “I’ll take your word for it. What about those?”

He pointed to her hand. Ygabba lifted it, opening her palm so that he could see the lidless eye in its center. “It’s a tracer orb,” she explained. “Advanced nanotechnology and organic matter. When the Master takes us, he has a med droid implant these in our hands.”

“Does he watch everything you do with them?”

“No. They’re monitors, that’s all. If we leave the planet, they’re programmed to release a toxin into our bloodstream.”

“That’s awful!”

“I know. That’s why we listen to him. That’s why we do what he asks. We have no choice.”

Boba listened thoughtfully. “Do you ever really see him?” he asked. “Or does he only communicate like that?”

“Oh, we see him, all right. Him and his battle droids,” said Ygabba grimly. “Whenever we perform a mission. He has us do his dirty work - stealing weapons, or crystal fuel, or water. Sometimes he has us hide things for him. Then he comes back here and collects the goods. He takes them away and sells them.”

Boba nodded. “I get it,” he said. “He’s smuggling weapons!”