Part 12 (1/2)

CRUNCH!.

Slave I was tipped over on its side. Boba tried to right it, but it wouldn't move. According to his damage control panel, he had bent one of the landing struts.

At least no one was watching. The landing pad seemed deserted. Boba got out of the c.o.c.kpit to survey the damage.

He felt dizzy. It looked bad. Two struts were good but the third was bent almost double.

He had no idea how to fix it. He got the flight bag down from the c.o.c.kpit and looked through it for a repair manual. But there was only the black book his father had left him.

Boba pulled the black book out of the flight bag. Maybe there would be something in it that he could use. If he ever needed it, it was now!

The book opened easily. On the screen inside were two lines, looking like something out of Jango Fett's code: Never tell the whole truth in a trade. A favor is an investment.

Darn! Nothing about landing gear, Boba thought, closing the book.

He was putting it back into the flight bag when he heard a high-pitched voice behind him: ”Whose s.h.i.+p?”

Boba turned.

A small humanoid was approaching. He had beady eyes, a long snout, and narrow, hooved legs. Boba recognized him by his chin beard and purple turban as a H'drachi from the planet M'Haeli. But modified: His right arm had been replaced with a multipurpose tool extension.

He wore coveralls with words st.i.tched over the pocket: HONEST GJON STARs.h.i.+P SERVICE.

”we will warp you”

”My s.h.i.+p,” Boba said. Then he remembered that he was just ten, and looked it. ”I mean - it's my father's.”

”And where mmight this father of yours be?” asked the H'drachi.

”Unavailable at the moment,” said Boba. ”But you can talk to me.”

”Honest Gjon at your service,” said the H'drachi. ”This is mmy landing pad. Which mmeans you owe me a landing fee. And it looks like you mmay need repairs as well.”

”Looks like it,” Boba admitted. Still feeling dizzy, he checked in his pocket for the credits Whrr had given him. He had planned to spend them on food and fuel. But now...

”How much to fix a strut?” he asked.

”How mmuch you got?” asked Honest Gjon. Boba was just about to say two hundred and fifty credits, when he remembered the black book: Never tell the whole truth in a trade. ”Two hundred credits,” he said.

Honest Gjon smiled at him. ”Mmy mmy, what a coincidence. That's exactly how mmuch it costs.” So maybe the book helps with repairs after all, Boba thought as he gave Honest Gjon two hundred credits. He still had fifty for himself.

Plus, as a courtesy, the H'drachi agreed to waive the landing fee.

Boba gave Honest Gjon the access codes to Slave 1 and headed toward the lights of the little town. As soon as he started walking, he understood why the landing had been so difficult. Something was shaking Bogg 4. He had hardly gone ten steps before he ended up in a ditch.

He scrambled to his feet - then fell to his knees again. He felt dizzier than ever. It was as if the ground were rocking under his feet - and yet everything looked stable.

The rocks stayed stationary. The ground didn't move.

Boba stood up again, carefully. He took a step, then another. So far so good. The dizziness came and went, and, finally, Boba realized what it was that felt so strange.

It was the gravity itself! It was strong one moment, weak the next; now tilting him forward, now back. It came and went in waves.

Boba started off again, uneasily, holding onto a stone wall that ran along the road. By the time he got to the edge of the town, he was walking in a more or less straight line.

Or so he thought.

”I see you're a newcomer,” said a voice from behind him. ”A newcomer, yes.”

Boba turned and saw a skinny male in a long black coat. He looked almost human except that he had white feathers instead of hair on his head, and his long fingers were slightly webbed. His face had a pinched, worried look, as if it had been shrunk.

”I can tell by your walk,” said the being in the long black coat.

”By your walk, yes.”

”So what?” Boba said. The dizziness was making him sick to his stomach, and he wasn't feeling too friendly. ”And why does the gravity here come and go like the wind?”

”Why, you have it exactly,” said the man, or whatever he was. ”It's the moons crisscrossing, now cancelling one another, now doubling their pull. It makes walking hard. That's why we locals prefer to soar, yes.”

Boba looked for wings under the long coat, but he didn't see any.

”You are a native, then, of this world?”

”Bogg 4? No. Of all the moons, of all the moons, yes. Say, you're pretty good, kid. Pretty good, yes.”

”Huh?”

”At the walking. You've almost got it down, yes.”

They introduced themselves to each other and walked together into the town.

Aia (for that was his name) explained to Boba that the moons of Bogden were a kind of outlaw heaven, where no warrants were served and no questions were asked.

”What does that mean?” Boba asked.

”It means that no one wonders why a ten-year-old boy is wandering around on his own. No one, yes.”

And it was true. Boba was even more invisible here on Bogg 4 than he had been on Kamino or Geonosis. The streets in the town were crowded with creatures from every corner of the galaxy, all walking with the same rolling gait, and none paying the slightest attention to Boba and his companion.

The gravity came and went in waves as the moons overhead (and unseen ”below”) slid in and out and around one another, sometimes dark, sometimes bright. Boba was still dizzy. But he was getting used to it.

”So tell me,” said Aia. ”Why are you here, yes?”

”A short visit,” said Boba cautiously. He wasn't sure who he could trust and who he couldn't. ”I'm looking for a certain man who hired a certain bounty hunter.”

”Lots of bounty hunters on Bogg 4,” said Aia.

”Dangerous characters, yes. They come here to hang out and trade info. To get new jobs. They usually only a.s.sociate with one another, yes.