Part 9 (1/2)

Boba didn't care. All he cared about was finding his father. He ran down the last aisle, pus.h.i.+ng his way through the stunned crowd.

He climbed over the wall and jumped into the arena.

”Dad! Dad! Where are you?!”

The dirt and sand under his feet were soaked with blood. Bodies lay in heaps on all sides.

A droid that had been blasted in half was thras.h.i.+ng around in a circle, kicking weapons, droid pieces, and bodies in every direction.

One piece rolled toward Bobs, hit his foot, and stopped.

Boba looked down and saw - Jango Fett's battle helmet.

Dad! With its narrow eye-slits, it was as familiar as his father's face. More familiar, in fact, It was b.l.o.o.d.y. It was empty. It was as blank and as final as the period at the end of a book.

Over. End of story.

As he fell on his knees and picked up his father's battle helmet, Boba knew that the nightmare he had seen from the stands had been no dream.

It was real. All of it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

No one notices a ten-year-old kid especially in the midst of a battle.

Especially when he is wandering in a daze, Stepping over bodies and trails of blood, oblivious to the laser bolts whining through the air near his head or spinning into the b.l.o.o.d.y sand at his feet, Especially when he is ignoring the shouts of the living and the screams of the dying; ignoring even his own cries.

Bobs was invisible.

He was invisible even to himself. He didn't know what he was thinking or what he was feeling or what he was doing. He was numb. It was like walking through somebody else's dream.

He carried his father's empty battle helmet cradled in both arms, while he stumbled around the arena in the remains of the battle; while the troops were fighting the last of the droids and the guns.h.i.+ps were departing with the rescued Jedi; while the panicked Geonosians were evacuating the arena in a stampede.

He carried the broken piece of his father's armor through the broken pieces of his world.

Did he think he could put his father back together?

Did he think he could put his life back together?

Boba didn't think anything. He was numb. It was all gone, all shattered.

It had all come to pieces. Pieces lay everywhere. Pieces of droids, body parts, the dead and the dying. Those who were still alive, and some of those who weren't, were firing their blasters wildly.

Boba walked past a spinning droid, its right leg shot off. It was firing around and around as it spun, spraying the upper tiers of the arena and the panicked crowd of Geonosians.

Laser bolts. .h.i.t the ground around him, throwing up geysers of sand.

Boba didn't care. Boba walked on.

Crouching troops in battle armor hurried by, firing as they ran.

One grabbed Boba's arm and threw him to the ground. ”Get down!”

WHARR000MM!.

An explosion ripped through the air where Boba had been. He hit flat on his belly.

W HA R ROOOM M!.

Another explosion - and Boba felt sand stinging his cheeks. He buried his face in his arms, next to the empty helmet. When he opened his eyes and looked up, he saw - Dad! It was his father, Jango Fett, looking down at him! Boba reached up for his father's hand, and - Then, suddenly, Boba saw how wrong he was. It was not his father.

It was the trooper who had saved his life, or one of the others. For they all looked exactly alike beneath the armor. It was his twin, only older.

It was his father, only younger.

It was one of the clones.

As he stumbled to his feet, Boba realized clearly - and with horror - that the troops that had poured out of the guns.h.i.+ps were the clone army that his father had trained on Kamino. Here they were, in action for the first time, on Geonosis. And unbeatable, just as his father had predicted. But they were fighting on the wrong side. Fighting for the hated Jedi!

No! Boba thought, clenching his fists. His disappointment was replaced by feelings of betrayal and rage.

”Just a kid!” the trooper said. ”Thought you were one of us.” He ran with the other clones toward a departing guns.h.i.+p.

”I'm not one of you!” Boba muttered angrily. ”And I never will be.

I am Jango Fett's real son.”

The arena was almost empty. The Archduke was nowhere to be seen.

The Count was nowhere to be seen. The fighting was almost over. The last guns.h.i.+p was leaving, blasting upward through the opening over the arena.

Boba hardly noticed. He was looking down, not up. He didn't care about the clones anymore. He had a job to do. One last job for Jango Fett.

It was getting dark. The rings of Geonosis filled half the sky with an orange glow. With the helmet in his arms, Boba was walking in circles, stumbling through the blood-damp sand. Finally, he found what he was looking for. Stumbled across it, in fact.

It was his father's body, still clothed in the remaining pieces of Mandalorian battle armor, scuffed and bloodied.

Boba placed his father's helmet on his father's chest, then sat down beside him. He was tired and it was time to rest. He noticed a tear slowly making its way down through the gritty sand on his cheek. He wiped it away with his fist.

It was too soon to cry. Boba still had a job to do.

It was dark, or as dark as it gets on the ringed planet. The battle had moved out of the arena and had covered a wide part of the land.

The Geonosians - now under the control of the victorious Jedi - sent in squads of drones to pick up the dead. They were tossed on a fire.