Boba threw a few clothes and the battle helmet into his father's flight bag. Trying not to be noticed, he made his way along the vast halls of the stalagmite city, toward the landing pad where Slave I was parked.

He had learned that the best way not to be noticed was not to worry about being noticed. That was easy. He had something else to worry about.

Could he fly the ship alone, without his father watching over his shoulder?

There was only one way to find out.

Boba hurried on.

There was a guard at the door to the landing pad. Even though the Jedi had taken over the planet, the Geonosians were still guarding their property.

It was easy enough to slip past the guard while he was busy shooting the breeze with another Geonosian.

Or so Boba thought.

"Where are you going?" The guard blocked the door with his blaster.

"My dad," Boba said. He held up the flight bag. "He told me to put this into the ship for him." "Which one?"

Boba pointed to Slave I. It was the smallest ship on the landing pad. Its scarred and pitted surface belied its great speed and maneuverability.

"Okay, okay," said the guard, turning back to his friend and his gossip. "But you only get five minutes. Then I'm running you off."

There was no time to check to see if Slave I was loaded and fueled.

Jango had schooled Boba in all the flight checks, but he had also let him know that there are times when they had to be overlooked. Times when one had to trust to luck.

Boba hurried. The guard might come looking for him at any moment now.

Once he was in the c.o.c.kpit, Boba pulled the helmet over his head and sat on the flight bag. To an outside observer, he looked like an adult. He hoped.

He kept his fingers crossed as he started the engines and engaged the drive, just as he had been taught.

So far so good. The guard at the door even flipped him a lazy "good- bye" wave as Boba lifted Slave I off the platform and soared into the cloudless sky of Geonosis.

The ship felt familiar, almost like home. Boba was thankful for all the time he had spent practicing, and even pretending. Pretending is a kind of practicing.

The fuel was low, but sufficient to get him to Kamino. He was on his way. Wish Dad were here to see me, he thought. I know he would be proud.

That thought, instead of making Boba happy, brought a sudden sadness. He tried to shake it off.

He had other things to worry about.

Like the blip in his rear viewscreen.

It was a Jedi starfighter, on his tail.

The Jedi must have left him behind to watch for stragglers, Boba thought. Is he here to follow me, to force me down, or to blast me out of the sky?

Boba wasn't about to find out.

He knew he couldn't outrun the starfighter. And since he barely knew Slave /'s weaponry, he couldn't outfight him. That left only one option.

He had to outsmart him.

Instead of heading for s.p.a.ce, Boba dove into the canyons and mesas that surrounded the stalagmite city. Using all the maneuverability of the craft, he sliced through the narrow canyons, turning right, then left, as fast as he could.

The starfighter was gaining. But that was okay. That was part of Boba's plan.

He remembered a trick his dad had told him about. A trick that had been used on Jango Fett once, and once only. (No trick ever worked on Jango Fett twice.) Boba slowed where the canyon forked, left and right. He fired a missile at the canyon wall on the right, then turned left and landed on a narrow ledge under the shelter of a cliff.

Boba shut off his engines and waited. And waited.

If the trick worked the Jedi starfighter would see the marks of the explosion of the wall, and turn back. If it didn't...

If it didn't, the starfighter would appear around the corner, lasers blazing. Or call for backup, and the sky would fill with starfighters. Or.. .

Finally, Boba quit waiting and restarted his engines. The trick had worked. The Jedi starfighter had seen the explosion and turned back.

Boba grinned with satisfaction as he took off again. He thought I hit the wall!

Boba pushed Slave 1 up into the rings and beyond. He had never been alone in s.p.a.ce before.

He had felt alone on the planet after his father's death, and particularly after burying him. But this was different. There is alone and there is alone.

There is no place more lonely than the vacuum of s.p.a.ce. Because s.p.a.ce is No Place.

In s.p.a.ce, there is only Not. Zero. Absence. And the absence of absence...

Welcome to The Big Isn't.

Boba shivered at the thought of the emptiness around him-then pushed the thought aside. He had no time for The Big Isn't. He thought of his father and his code: A bounty hunter never gets distracted by the big picture. He knows it's the little things that count.

Boba had a job to do. He had to find the black book.

Boba slipped into high orbit, above the rings.

Geonosis below looked almost peaceful. It was hard to believe it had just seen the fierce fighting that had killed his father - and hundreds, perhaps thousands, of others.

It was a beautiful sight, but Boba didn't intend to spend time enjoying the view. He was already preparing the ship for a hypers.p.a.ce jump.

For a return, this was a simple process. Since Kamino was the last place Slave I had been, all Boba had to do was reverse the coordinates on the navcomputer.

The ship would take care of the rest. So he did.

And so did it.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN,.

In hypers.p.a.ce, all sectors of the galaxy are connected. Near is far and far is near.

The ship was falling into a hole. No, out of a hole.

Boba was back in "normal" s.p.a.ce.

He was floating in orbit around what looked like a ball of clouds st.i.tched together with lightning.

Stormy Kamino!

Home. Or as much of a home as Boba Fett had ever known.

Boba rubbed his eyes, stretched, and put Slave I into descent trajectory. Gray clouds whipped past like torn flags. Lightning flashed on all sides; thunder boomed. As the little starship slowed below supersonic speed, rain splattered the c.o.c.kpit's transparisteel.

Boba adjusted his speed and circled down slowly toward the lights of Tipoca City. He had watched his father do it several times, but this was his first time at the controls.

The funny thing was, he didn't feel alone. It was almost as if Jango Fett were right there behind him. Boba could almost feel the big hand on his shoulder.

Smooth! He cut the engines and eased onto the landing pad with hardly a b.u.mp.

The weather in Tipoca City was normal, which meant there was a big storm in progress - which was all right with Boba. He didn't want to be noticed.

He had worn the battle helmet, so that anyone watching Slave I landing would think there was an adult at the controls. But he needn't have bothered.

The landing pad was deserted. There was no one around.

Boba threw on a poncho and scrambled out of the c.o.c.kpit, after setting the ship's environmentals on INPUT to take on air and water, both plentiful on Kamino.

Especially water - it was pouring rain!

The little library at the end of the street corridor was dark. Boba banged on the door.

"Whrr, are you there?"

Was he too late? Or too early? Boba was warp-lagged from hypers.p.a.ce, and he realized he had no idea what time it was in Tipoca City.

"Whrr, please. Open up!"

The light behind the slot came on.

Boba wished the door would open so that he could go in, out of the rain, but the library was only a branch.

An awning slid out, though, to protect him from the rain. And he heard the familiar whirring and clicking inside.

"Whrr, it's me."

"Boba? You're back! Where have you been? What happened?"

A short question with a long answer. Boba told Whrr the whole story, from the time he and his father had left the planet in a hurry, to the horrible scene in the arena, where he had seen his father killed.

"Oh, Boba, that's terrible. You are an orphan, at only ten. Do you have enough to eat? Do you have any money?"

"Not exactly," said Boba. "A few crackers. An extra pair of socks."

"Hmmmmmm," whirred Whrr.

"I'll be okay," said Boba. "But I have to get something my father left with me. By accident I left it with you."

"A book?"

"Yes! You remember! It looks like a book, anyway. It's black, with nothing on the cover. I returned it by mistake, with the last books I brought back right before I left."

"I will be right back."

There was a whir and a click, a clank and a clatter. Soon Whrr was back - with good news!

"Here you are," he said, pa.s.sing the black book through the slot.

"But there is a fine, you know."

"A what!?"

"There's money due on this book. Quite a bit."

"It's not even really a book. Besides, I didn't check it out. It's mine! I left it with you."

"Exactly," said Whrr. "Which means the library owes you, let's see, two hundred and fifty credits."

"That's impossible - " Boba began.

"Sorry," said Whrr, pa.s.sing the money through the slot. "A fine is a fine and must be paid. Now go on about your business, Boba, and good luck. Come and see me sometime. If you're ever around."

I get it, Boba thought. I'm a little slow, but I get it.

"Thank you, my friend," he said. "Someday I will come back to Kamino. I'll come by and see you then, I promise."

"Good-bye, Boba," Whrr said through the slot. The light went off and Boba heard a strange snuffling sound.

Must be the rain, he thought, because everybody knows that droids don't cry.

Boba could hardly believe his luck! Two hundred and fifty credits would buy groceries and supplies, even clothing, with some left over for fuel. This was vital - since he didn't know how to access his father's accounts.

And he had the black book! He patted it under his poncho, where he was carrying it out of the rain.