What Waits In The Dune Sea

When Boba wakes, his hands are bound in front of him, tied to a wooden post with a long chain.

The suns have set, and he can barely make out his surroundings from the faint firelight a few meters in front him. Half a dozen tents are arranged around the campfire, and a few figures sit talking quietly on the other side.

The Tuskens must have taken me back to their camp, he realizes.

Keeping an eye on the lookouts, Boba twists his wrists, trying to slip out of the cuffs. A low growl interrupts him, and he suddenly notices the sharp-fanged massif lying near his feet, one yellow eye cracked open and staring at him.

He lowers his hands into his lap and swallows thickly. His throat aches from thirst, and his head is still spinning a little.

They took my bag, too, he realizes with annoyance. Great. Just great.

Boba curls up with his back against the wooden post, shivering in the cold night air.

Unable to sleep and unable to free himself, he has no choice but to wait and watch the sunrise, until the camp has woken and two dozen Tuskens are going about their morning chores. They're all covered head-to-toe in cloth, metal grills covering their noses and mouths and goggles over their eyes. Even the youngest ones, just toddlers, are bundled in cloaks and cowls.

Months ago, Dia had mentioned the Tuskens as one of the dangers of Tatooine.

"Who are the Tuskens?" Boba had asked with a frown.

"'Who are the Tuskens'," Dia had scoffed. "They're the natives of Tatooine. They see everyone else as trespassers – which is true. Some of the tribes are more violent than others, so there's a high chance you'll be killed or enslaved. The best thing to do if you run across any of them is to be polite and give them an offering. I'll teach you a few phrases. If you want to say, "I come in peace", you say "Ru rah ru rah." 

"R– Ru rah ru rah," Boba had imitated hesitantly.

"No, more guttural." Dia had repeated the phrase. "And hold your hands out like this."

Over the months, Dia had tutored Boba, and now he had a decent grasp of both the signing and spoken language. Not fluent, but hopefully enough to carry a conversation.

One of the Tuskens, an adult in dark brown robes, trudges over to him and tosses something into his lap. Boba picks it up cautiously: it's some sort of fruit, maybe a melon, with a crackled, black shell. Boba looks up at the Tusken, frowning. With an annoyed grunt, the Tusken motions with their hands, digging their thumbs into an imaginary object.

Hesitantly, Boba copies the motion on the melon, and the shell crackles away, revealing a clear liquid inside. Sighing in relief, Boba lifts the melon to his mouth and drains the liquid. He grimaces at the bitter taste, but he doesn't feel so thirsty.

The Tusken crouches beside Boba, and Boba flinches away before he realizes they're untying him from the post. Tugging the chain still attached to Boba's hands, the Tusken motions for Boba to stand.

He does so, groaning at the soreness in his legs. The Tusken starts to lead him away, but Boba wets his lips and says, "Aargh. Ru rah ru rah." Hello, I come in peace.

Turning back around, the Tusken tilts their head. "You speak our language?"

Boba signs – as best he can with his hands tied – "My name is Boba."

The Tusken tilts their head, then makes the same sign. "A'Dakmu."

"A'Dakmu," Boba repeats. "That's your name?"

The Tusken grunts and continues walking, dragging Boba with them. The massif stands and trots along beside them.

They travel away from the camp, and for a few moments Boba fears he's going to be killed. But then A'Dakmu stops, just barely in view of the camp, and crouches. They shift around some of the sand and uncover something – a black melon, like the one Boba had drunk from.

Standing, A'Dakmu points at the ground, and drops Boba's chain. "Dig," they say.

"You… want me to dig for the melons?" he asks.

A'Dakmu places their hands on their hips.

Boba kneels and begins digging in the rough sand, until he feels something hard under his hands, and scoops up a black melon.

He holds it up to A'Dakmu, who takes it with a grunt, and motions again at the sand.

How long am I gonna have to do this? Boba wonders, beginning to dig again.

Hours pass. The suns have nearly reached their highest point and the heat is unbearable when finally A'Dakmu stands and takes the end of Boba's chain.

Sighing in relief, Boba stands, swaying on his feet. He feels light-headed, and nearly trips as A'Dakmu begins walking back to the camp. Boba stumbles to catch up to A'Dakmu, and calls their name. They pause and look questioningly at Boba.

He cups his hand and lifts it to his mouth. "Something to drink. Please."

A'Dakmu hesitates, then reaches into their bag and produces one of the black melons. Boba grabs it from their hands and drains the disgusting liquid, tilting his head back and sighing in relief.

With a tug of the chain, A'Dakmu leads Boba back to the camp. They tie Boba back to the wooden post, mercifully shadowed from the relentless sun by a nearby tent. Boba sits and watches the camp, with the massif curled up nearby.

He counts twenty-two Tuskens, six of whom are children. Two of them are about Boba's own age; one must be almost an adult; and the other three are toddlers, carried in their parents' arms or waddling about in the sand.

A few of the Tuskens stand a ways from the camp, sparring together. They use carved wooden sticks, one end sharp and the other end rounded. Fascinated, Boba studies their techniques, and finds himself wanting to try it out.

No, no, no. He shakes his head violently. I've got to get out of here. I have to find the armour and get back to Dia.

… Kriff, I wish Dia was here. No! He shuts that thought down viciously. That's stupid. I don't need him. Focus. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. My best bet would be sneaking out at night, when most of them are asleep.

He opens his eyes and surreptitiously shifts the sand around his feet. His heel hits something hard. Under the guise of stretching out his legs, still sitting, he digs deeper into the sand until his hand closes around a rock. He grins triumphantly, but quickly schools his face back to something neutral as he slides his leg over to hide the rock.

I'll dig it up tonight. I might be able to take out the massif and break the chain.

He spends a moment furtively feeling the wooden post, but it's plunged deep into the sand, and he doubts he'd be able to dig it up.

Next time A'Dakmu takes me out to dig up the black melons, he decides, I'll knock them out and run.

The rest of the day passes slowly. With each passing hour, Boba's hunger and thirst worsen, but the Tuskens ignore him entirely. One of the toddlers wanders over, babbling as they reach out curiously, but their parent scoops them up with a reprimand and takes them away.

In the evening, the Tuskens re-light the campfire, and eat around it, talking and laughing. A'Dakmu eventually comes over. They drop a hunk of cooked meat and a black melon into Boba's hands, then toss another piece of meat to the massif.

Boba tears into the meat eagerly. He can't tell if it actually tastes good, or if that's just because he hasn't eaten in so long.

Finally, the Tuskens file off into their bantha-hide tents, and only two are left by the fire, keeping watch. When he's certain they're not looking, Boba digs quickly into the sand and unearths the rock. It's twice the size of his fist, and definitely heavy enough to injure.

He slips it into an inside pocket, then wraps himself in his poncho and tries to sleep.

________

The sun cooks the back of Boba's neck and his hands are close to bleeding as he scoops handfuls of sand, searching for black melons. They're further away from the camp than usual, probably because Boba's dug up all the black melons nearby. It's been three days since he came up with a plan to escape, and he hasn't yet had a chance to enact it.

"Stupid Tusken won't turn away for a second," he mutters, pausing to sit back on his heels and wipe the sweat from his forehead.

Beginning to dig again, he glances over at A'Dakmu, and his heart nearly stops. They're lying back in the sand, one arm over their eyes, and their chest rises and falls steadily.

They're asleep.

Boba can't believe his luck. The massif is still awake, but preoccupied digging in the sand and snuffling around. Carefully, slowly, just in case A'Dakmu isn't really asleep, Boba stands and creeps across the sand, picking up his chain so it won't rattle.

The massiff snarls, and Boba freezes, turning his head to look at the creature. Surprisingly, it's not looking at Boba, but at the sand, hackles raised. A'Dakmu doesn't stir.

Boba begins to walk forward again, but the massiff growls, and snaps its teeth at the sand.

"What the kriff is it doing?" Boba mutters.

Then the ground explodes.

Boba throws his arms up to shield his face from the raining sand, and gapes at the giant beast in front of him. It strikes out with a clawed arm, and Boba barely ducks in time. He rolls over the ground and hops to his feet.

He notices the massiff lying unmoving on the ground and A'Dakmu waking up, but he has no time to think or do anything but dodge as the giant, scaled, beast attacks with a defeaning roar.

Grabbing a handful of sand, he throws it into the beast's eyes. It rears up, blinded and scrabbling at its face. Boba takes the chance and launches himself onto its back, grabbing the other end of his chain and looping it around the beast's neck.

The beast roars and flails, and Boba twists the chain tightly. Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep! he begs silently.

Suddenly he's hitting the sand, shaken off. The beast is above him. Its yellow eyes and spittle-dripping teeth are inches from his face.

Boba fumbles desperately in his pocket, grabbing the rock, and shoves it forwards, into the beast's mouth. At the same time, he curls his legs up and kicks out as hard as he can.

The beast falls backwards, grabbing at its throat, making a horrible choking sound against the rock lodged in its throat. For a few moments, it writhes on the ground. Boba watches, frozen, until it finally stops twitching and lies still.

Releasing a breath, Boba finds himself laughing in relief. He flops onto his back in the sand, shading his eyes from the sun.

"I survived," he chuckles. "That'll be a story to tell Dia."

Before he can regret that thought, someone grabs his shoulders and pulls him into a sitting position. Boba struggles for a moment, until he realizes it's A'Dakmu.

"Are you hurt?" A'Dakmu asks, crouching in front of him.

Boba can't see their facial expression, but they seems concerned. He shakes his head. "No, I'm fine."

A'Dakmu gestures widely at the beast, shouting excitedly in Tusken and signing too quickly for Boba to understand.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Was I not supposed to kill it?"

A'Dakmu grabs Boba's hands and shakes their head. They pull Boba to his feet and tug him over to the beast's corpse.

"Well done!" They pat Boba's back. "Well done!"

"Oh…"

Suddenly he remembers fishing with his dad on Kamino, the first time he caught a fish. It had been bigger than his whole arm, and its wet scales had sparkled in the rare sunlight. Jango had been so proud of him, tossing him up into the air and laughing.

A'Dakmu brushes their fingers under Boba's eyes, and the child realizes he's crying.

"Are you hurt?" A'Dakmu asks again.

Boba shakes his head, wiping the tears away. His chest aches, but for a moment he felt connected to his dad again.

Soon, buir, I'll get revenge for you, he vows.