The Fight to Survive by Terry Bisson

yes,” said Aia.
    Boba was intrigued.
Money is power
. “You’re talking about a hijacking? A robbery?”
    “An interception,” said Honest Gjon. “Not exactly a robbery, since it isn’t real mmoney, yes. It’s counterfeit credits. They are made on Bogg 2, then sent by
light-air balloons to Bogg 9 when the alignment of the mmoons is just right.”
    “The atmospheres brush together and the balloons pass from world to world,” said Aia. “Like we did, yes.”
    “A smugglers’ trick,” said Honest Gjon. “And if we pick off one balloon on the way, no one will mmiss it.”
    “They will think one just got away, yes,” said Aia. “Of course, catching it on the fly requires a
very
good pilot with a
very
good ship. You may be too young,
yes.”
    “I want a third,” said Boba. “When do we go?”
    “In about ten minutes,” said Aia. He looked at Honest Gjon and winked. “I told you he would do it, yes?”
    From space, Bogg 2 looked like a dry dirt clod, spiked with mountains. Boba cruised over slowly, then put
Slave I
into a slow holding orbit just above the
atmosphere.
    “No lights, no electrics, no radio,” said Honest Gjon. “That way we can’t be seen. The trick is to try to catch the balloon as it rises. If you get close, I will hook it
into the hatch.”
    “We should let the first one go, so they don’t suspect anything, yes,” said Aia. “Then grab the next one.”
    “Sounds like a plan,” said Boba.
    “Look,” said Honest Gjon. “Here comes number one.”
    He handed Boba a viewfinder. Boba saw a red balloon rising out of a mountain valley.
    He handed the viewfinder to Aia. The balloon rose swiftly in the low gravity. It streaked past, into the stormy space between the moons. A gondola hung below it, packed with bales of
credits.
    Money!
thought Boba with a grin.
Money is power!
If only his father could see him now. He knew he would be proud.
    “Here it comes,” said Honest Gjon. The second balloon was on its way. It had an even larger gondola hanging beneath it.
Even more money
, Boba thought.
    Aia tracked it with the viewfinder and then with his naked eye, while Boba operated the ship. “Back up a hair, yes. Now forward. Now up, yes. Whoa!”
    Honest Gjon opened the ramp and pulled in the balloon. “Got it!”
    “Great,” said Boba. “Now let’s close the ramp and get out of here.”
    “One more,” said Aia.
    “I thought two was the plan,” said Boba. “They will see us if we stay too long. They’ll send someone up after us.”
    “One mmore can’t hurt,” said Honest Gjon. He held up a fistful of brand-new credit notes.
    Why not?
thought Boba.
More is better
. If the black book didn’t say that, well, it should!
    He pulled the ship back into place and held it steady, adjusting for the varying gravity of the spinning moons.
    “Number three!” said Aia. Honest Gjon went to open the ramp.
    The red balloon was getting closer and closer. Honest Gjon went down to open the ramp and pull it in. The gondola underneath it was even bigger than the one before.
    More money!
More is better
, Boba thought, with a grin.
    “Oooops,” said Honest Gjon. “Slight problem.”
    “You’re all under arrest for counterfeiting,” said a gruff voice.
    Boba turned and saw Honest Gjon in the doorway. He was not alone. Standing beside him was a trooper in a security uniform, holding a blaster.
    Oh, no!
thought Boba.
    “It’s not our money,” said Aia. “It’s all a mistake, yes. We’ll give it back!”
    “Who cares about the money?” said the trooper, with a cruel smile that was all teeth. “I’m officially confiscating this ship in the name of the law. It’s
contraband.”
    Boba was thinking:
No way!
Give up
Slave I
, his father’s ship? But what could he do with a blaster pointed at his face?
    Then he remembered a trick Jango had taught him.
    “Move over, kid,” said the trooper. “And put your hands up where I can see them. Now!”
    “Yes, sir.” Boba set the power on