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"Very good." The figure lifted its hands, turning. Boba felt his stomach clench as those round, glowing eyes fixed on him.

"There will be many people at the Podraces tonight," the figure said. "That means there will be many vessels parked outside the Arena Citadel. Many guards, but also many unwary soldiers who will have had too much to drink. A shipment of smuggled weapons will be outside the northwest gate. You are to bring them here."

The children whispered, "Yes, Master."

The figure stared straight at Boba. "What does failure mean?" he hissed.

Boba opened his mouth but said nothing. "Failure means destruction," said Master Libkath. "Do not fail."

And with a blinding flash, the figure disappeared.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Boba blinked., It took him a minute to register exactly what he had seen.

Not an actual person at all, but a holo. A virtual sending.

He had never been in any real danger. Master Libkath, whoever he was, had not really been there. He had not seen Boba at all, but Boba had recognized him as a Neimoidian. He'd met Neimoidians before, on Geonosis.

Still, Libkath had been frightening, at least for the others. Even Boba hadn't been able to look at those weird eyes without getting a queasy feeling. For a moment he couldn't speak. The chamber around him, too, was silent. Then, all at once, the children began babbling and talking.

"No time!" shouted Ygabba. She spun on her heel and headed for a jagged opening that had once housed a power generator. "You heard the Master - we have work to do!"

"But I'm hungry," someone whined.

"Me, too," yelled someone else.

"And me!" piped in another.

Ygabba stopped. Her face looked tired and worn, and much older. "I know," she said. "I'm hungry, too. There will be food vendors outside the arena."

"But we have nothing to trade," said a small Tatooine boy.

A grin spread across Ygabba's face. "That never stopped us before!"

she said. The others laughed. Boba walked up beside her.

"So you're all thieves," he said accusingly. He grabbed her arm.

"Well, I'm not. I want my things. Give them to me and I'll go."

Ygabba looked him up and down.

"What do you know about us?" she said at last. "You'd steal, too, if you were starving. Many of us have been separated from our families.

Others watched as their parents were killed by thugs."

Her brilliant blue eyes stared at him. Boba stared back.

"I saw my father killed, too," he said quietly. "I know what it's like to be alone. I know what it's like not to trust." He shook his head.

"But I've never stolen anything in my life. And I won't start now."

The girl looked at him. Her expression softened.

"Your father," she said. "That helmet - it was his?"

Boba nodded.

"And the book?"

"Yes," said Boba.

Ygabba stood there, thinking. Finally she reached into her pocket.

"Here," she said. She handed him his book. "I'm sorry we took it."

Boba slid it into his packet. "What about my helmet?"

"No." She looked behind them, to where the other children milled around. They were waiting for her to lead them out. "What I told you was true. It's safer here. There are many, many thieves in Mos Espa. Bigger ones than us. Scarier ones. I'll give you your helmet back later. I promise."

"That's not good enough. I need it," said Boba. It was not a plea, but a command. "Now."

The girl stared at him for a long time. Finally she nodded.

"All right," she said. She turned and climbed back onto the shelf and opened the storage compartment. A minute later she returned with the helmet.

"Here," she said.

She held it out to Boba. He grasped it, but her hands did not let go.

"You owe me for this," she said, and drew her hands back.

"Owe you?" said Boba hotly. He clutched the helmet to his chest.

"For stealing my helmet?"

"No. For teaching you to be more careful with it."

The girl walked away, gesturing for some of the other children to come with her to find food. Boba watched her, then followed,