Regrets And Ambitions

A'Dakmu carries Boba back to the camp on their shoulders, yelling triumphantly and waving the beast's severed head in their hand. The massiff trots along beside them, happily carrying one of the beast's meat-covered bones in its mouth.

The others gather to greet them, cheering and shouting enthusiastically as A'Dakmu tells them what happened. People reach out and pat Boba on his shoulders or his head, impressed by what he'd done.

Boba's chains are removed, and he's given a pile of folded robes, replacement for his torn-up shirt and pants. That evening, he warms himself by the fire with the Tuskens and eats well, sitting beside A'Dakmu.

"Why are you here?" A'Dakmu asks him, signing.

A few other Tuskens sit around them, listening in curiously. Among them is who Boba assumes is the chieftain, by everyone else's deference to them and their many bead and tooth necklaces.

"I'm looking for my father's armour," he answers.

The Tuskens murmur between themselves.

"Where is it?" one asks.

"I don't know. Nearby." He pauses, then adds the sign for "Jawa."

Exclamations of annoyance erupt from the Tuskens. One makes a particularly violent gesture Boba can only imagine the meaning of. 

When they've settled, A'Dakmu asks, "Where is your father?"

Boba hesitates, glancing at the ground. "Dead."

The Tuskens discuss something together, speaking instead of signing, so Boba can't understand their words. A'Dakmu seems particularly animated, apparently arguing against some of the others.

Boba watches the orange flames and drinks from a black melon. He's starting to get used to the taste.

 After a few minutes, the chieftain asks him, signing,

"What is your name?"

"Boba Fett," he replies.

The chieftain sounds it out, then introduces themself as Orr'krurs. "We will help you," they promise.

Boba can hardly believe it. When he'd been caught, he'd thought he'd be killed for sure, but now the Tuskens were actually going to help him?

"Thank you," he says, bowing his head. They must want something in exchange, though. "What do I need to do?"

Orr'krurs tilts their head. "Sleep."

Boba frowns. "Sleep?" he repeats. What's that supposed to mean?

Orr'krurs says something to A'Dakmu, who stands and motions for Boba to follow them. Boba clambers to his feet and trudges after A'Dakmu, stifling a yawn behind his hand. They stop at a small tent, just big enough for a person, and A'Dakmu holds open the flap for Boba. He pokes his head inside and sees a bed of blankets arranged neatly to one side.

"For me?" he asks, disbelieving.

A'Dakmu nods, and gestures for Boba to go inside. He does, leaving his boots on the bare bantha-hide floor by the open flap. He kneels on the pile of blankets, so soft and welcoming.

"Thank you," he says, smiling at A'Dakmu.

Before they leave, A'Dakmu signs something else Boba doesn't recognize. Maybe "goodnight"? Then they let the flap fall closed. Boba hears them click their tongue and the shadow of a massiff appears, sitting in front of Boba's tent.

Boba changes into his new clothes, loose and comfortable, and slips under the blankets.

It's kind of funny, he thinks to himself. Just a few months ago, I lived on a water-covered planet. Now I'm the furthest I could be from that.

He falls asleep marvelling at how much his life has changed, and how quickly. 

________

In the morning, Boba is raptly watching a small group of Tuskens spar when the two his age walk up to him. The shorter one, dressed in black with long, dark ribbons trailing from their hood, stands slightly behind the taller one, who wears deep red robes.

Boba has put his blue poncho back on, over the new robes A'Dakmu gave him. I'm just used to wearing it, he tells himself, pushing away the memory of Dia's overjoyed grin when he'd first worn it.

"Aargh," the taller Tusken says. Hello. They begin signing, with the occasional grunt, and Boba follows along to the best of his ability. "My name is Shaan. My father is Orr'krurs, the chieftain."

The other Tusken signs, "My name is K'Rai. My uncle is A'Dakmu."

"I'm Boba."

Shaan begins signing again, and Boba misses a few words, but then Shaan points to the sparring Tuskens and asks, "Fight?"

"…You want me to fight you?"

Shaan nods, and beckons K'Rai forward. They're carrying two smaller versions of the stick the adults are fighting with, and they hold one out to Boba.

Standing, Boba takes the stick. "Sure. Let's do it." He's been wanting to try this weapon out.

They trek a little ways from the camp, though still well in sight and earshot.

"Are you a boy, girl, or other?" Shaan asks as they walk.

"Boy," Boba replies. "And you?"

"Boy." He points at K'Rai, and adds, "Girl."

"Hurry up!" K'Rai shouts from ahead.

Walking faster, Boba and Shaan reach her a few moments later. Nearby are the adults already sparring with staves. As the children approach, they pause their round and call out a greeting.

"Can we train here, too?" Shaan asks.

"Of course," one of the adults agrees.

The three return to sparring while Boba, Shaan, and K'Rai sit a distance away and watch. The warriors move quickly, darting closer and spinning away while their staves collide together with echoing cracks and the metal blades glint.

"Those are gaderffi sticks," Shaan says. "When we become warriors, we'll earn the right to wield a gaderffi stick too, and craft it from a branch."

Boba nods, following the fight closely.

Finally, one of the warriors disarms the other. As their staff goes flying, the victor sweeps the loser's legs out from under them, and they tumble to the sand. The loser groans in annoyance, but accepts the victor's helping hand to stand up.

"Let's try," K'Rai orders, standing and tossing a wooden staff to Boba.

The staff isn't bladed, and is much smaller than the proper gaderffi sticks. Boba tests the balance and stands. It's weighted on one side, to serve as a club, while the other end is pointed, for stabbing attacks.

K'Rai stands a few paces away and hefts her staff. "Are you ready?"

Boba nods, and K'Rai sprints at him.

Seconds later, he's on his back, spitting sand out of his mouth. K'Rai looks down at him, her gaderffi stick aimed at his chest. Boba can't see her face, but he's certain she's grinning insufferably.

"You win," he mutters.

She lifts her staff away and holds out her hand. "Let's try again."

Boba hesitates, but takes her hand. She yanks him to his feet and hands his staff back.

"Try the same stance as K'Rai," Shaan advises from the sidelines.

Boba copies K'Rai stance, and they start again.

They spend hours sparring and watching the adults train. K'Rai is the most capable young fighter in the camp, and gives Boba lots of blunt but useful advice. The adults take a break and give them some pointers, too. Boba still ends up in the sand more often than not, but he's a lot more capable than he was even hours earlier.

Around noon, all three of them are called back to the camp by the chieftain, and sit near the unlit campfire.

"Your father's armour," Orr'krurs begins, "how will you find it?"

"Can I have my bag back?" Boba asks.

Orr'krurs murmurs something to another Tusken, who leaves and returns a few moments later with Boba's satchel. It's been mostly looted already, but the map is still folded in one of the pockets. Boba takes out the map and smooths it out on the ground.

He traces a loose circle with his finger around Mos Espa on the map, and signs, "Armour."

Orr'krurs nods, then points to a spot just inside the Jundland Wastes, near the Roiya Rift, signing, "Us."

"I'll travel there," Boba says, pointing at Mos Espa again, "and find the armour."

"When?"

"As soon as I can."

Orr'krurs shakes his head. "You will die."

"What do you mean?" Boba demands.

"You are not ready for the desert. You must train. Stay here, and learn."

"But I have to get the armour back," Boba argues. "I can't lose it!"

"Patience." Orr'krurs places a gentle hand on Boba's head. "You will learn."

Boba wants to argue further, wants to race out into the desert right this second. But he pauses. The Tuskens know better than he does just how dangerous the desert can be. And at least he's not being forced to dig for black melons anymore. Hiding his annoyance, he agrees.

K'Rai drags Boba back to spar again, and she and Shaan teach him more forms until the suns have set.

Soon, Boba thinks to himself at the campfire that night, I'll reclaim buir's armour, and then I'll get my revenge.

He wakes up in tears and a cold sweat that night, visions of Jango's death burned into his eyes. He reaches out blindly for Dia. When his hands close over empty space, he remembers where he is.

Curling into a tight ball, he wishes his friend were here.

"You don't need anyone," Bane's voice echoes in his ears.

"Bane was wrong," Boba realizes.

He's seen how the Tuskens work together. How they're helping him. He's suddenly hit with guilt for brushing Dia off these past few days. All Dia had wanted was to help, and Boba didn't even say a proper goodbye.

"Bane was wrong," he repeats. "Oh, I messed up." 

For a minute, he's tempted to abandon his mission. He wants to sprint all the way back to Mos Eisley, find Dia, and beg him for forgiveness. He even stands up, but sits back down a moment later. 

I can't leave now. I might not get this opportunity again. With a frustrated groan, he lies down again. 

"Ni ceta1, Dia," he whispers. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

If I survive this next month, his mind adds. 

He doesn't sleep well that night.