Star Wars: Tales of the Bounty Hunters

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Chen bared his teeth and answered evasively. It would’ve been easy to take Bossk down if they could talk him aboard their ship, but obviously Bossk was too intelligent to fall for that.

  “He doesn’t,” Tinian translated. “Neither do I, if it means getting the price on Chewbacca.”

  Bossk finally stretched the lower half of his face in a reptilian smile. “I must warn you: If you tamper with any of my onboard systems, the Hound’s Tooth will retaliate.”

  Of course it would. It was undoubtedly equipped with multiple defenses against Wookiees’ strength.

  He told Tinian to inform Bossk that traveling with him would keep their expenses down, since they were only getting fifteen percent apiece. As she translated, Chen sniffed the air. Bossk smelled as bitter as pain and as foul as death, but he hadn’t become defensive. From that subtle clue, Chen guessed that Bossk already intended treachery. He wouldn’t miss thirty percent of his take because he had no intention of paying it.

  Fair enough. If Chen had his way, Bossk would not collect one limp credit. Chen knew about the Trandoshan religion. Having his jagannath score zeroed would hurt Bossk worse than ambushing and killing him.

  That would be a pleasure.

  To Tinian, Bossk looked impatient: He flexed his claws in rhythm, occasionally darting glances up the corridors. “I also expect you to pay half of my fueling costs,” he said.

  In three years with Chen, Tinian had matured from a spoiled but sincere little rich girl into a seasoned resistance fighter. She sensed that Bossk was testing. “Ten percent,” she countered. “You’d make this trip without us, if you knew where to go.”

  Bossk frowned. “Twenty. Programming my onboard systems to watch you will take time I could spend hunting Chewbacca.”

  “Then don’t program them,” she snapped.

  He curled a lip and hissed.

  She’d heard that Trandoshans found mercy, graciousness, and other weaknesses contemptible. “Ten,” she repeated, “and that’s generous.”

  “Why did you enter the Trade, Human? Your kind generally hasn’t the stomach for it.”

  Tinian narrowed her eyes, an expression Trandoshans understood. “My capacity for kindness died three years ago. Criminals murdered my grandparents and my lover, my home was destroyed, and I put groundside life behind me. I don’t mind risking my life if the stakes are rewarding.”

  Bossk stared, obviously thinking that through. Trandoshans took no lovers. Whenever they came back to Trandosha, they mated with a clutch mother who struck their fancy, then returned to their work.

  But she’d had a lover. A fiance. Tinian tried to keep the image of Daye Azur-Jamin out of her mind’s eye. Daye’s had been a gentle face full of intelligence, with an odd silver streak marking one eyebrow. He’d been sensitive to the Force, a shrewd judge of character. Hard-working, too. And loyal to the death. Daye had sacrificed himself to help her escape the Imperial takeover of her grandparents’ armament factory. Since that day, she had dedicated her life to helping bring down the Empire. The sooner she died, the sooner she’d rejoin Daye.

  Meanwhile, she had a job to attempt.

  “Fifteen percent of fuel.” Bossk thrust out a clawed forearm.

  Tinian sensed that she’d won as much as Bossk was willing to give. She reached out and touched his scales. Bossk swung his arm against a bulkhead, pinning her hand. Chenlambec extended a paw and got the same treatment: Bossk demanded command, two against one … and his ship. Those odds favored Bossk.

  “Now,” said Bossk, “we will evaluate our resources.” He enumerated the Hound’s Tooth’s firepower. Before he finished, Chenlambec tapped the floor with one foot, and even Tinian felt nervous, even though she had practically grown up in her grandparents’ armament factory. Since leaving Druckenwell, she’d become even more competent with weapons, explosives, and armor. Knowledge helped make up for her small size and limited strength. Chenlambec’s contributions to the three-way included his connections among the “criminal” Wookiee network and a reputation even Bossk didn’t question.

  The rest of their planning was simple for the moment. After visiting the Wookiee waypost, they would drift into the Lomabu system, fake the orbit of a rapidly moving planet-crossing asteroid, and keep all systems quiet. They would scout using Bossk’s small landing craft, locate the criminal Wookiee colony, and then draw out and trap Solo and his crew. Specific plans would wait until they found the Lomabu system.

  Tinian didn’t mention their own plans.

  “Until we find Lomabu,” added Bossk, “you will remain in your cabin.”

  Tinian shrugged. She had no intention of remaining anywhere Bossk put her, and Lomabu III was no safe world. “We will be boarding with 300 kilos of gear. Which docking bay is your ship in?”

  Bossk blinked. She could almost see him wonder what they needed with a 300-kilo weight allowance. “Number six,” he gargled.

  “We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” she said.

  Chenlambec led Tinian up the passageway, glad to escape Bossk’s brackish stench. He had been called onto this job by Kashyyyk, not just to help Chewbacca escape, but to doublecross Bossk and end his murderous operation. Chenlambec knew that the Trandoshan pelt baiter’s count numbered in the hundreds. He had lured that boast out of Bossk. The heat in Bossk’s eye had warmed Chenlambec’s blood.

  Once they put several turns of the passage between them and the Trandoshan, Chen slowed to a stroll.

  “Satisfied?” Tinian asked.

  Chenlambec had lost brothers and sisters to Trandoshan pelt baiters. He told her it was a beginning.

  “It was exciting,” she admitted. “For a few minutes, I felt really alive.”

  Chenlambec cuffed the small woman’s shoulder. She understood Wookiee speech and gesture remarkably well, including the soft punch that meant full agreement.

  “I thought you probably did, too,” she answered. She turned a gamine grin on him.

  He counted echoing gray corridors as he strode past them, then turned up a dim side passage. After twenty long strides, he paused in front of a bulkhead. Tinian loosened her blaster in its low holster and took up a guard position.

  Chen crouched in front of a power access point. He extended one claw and pulled off a silver cube that matched the decorations on his bandolier. It would have fit on Tinian’s palm.

  “About time,” it scolded in a high, feminine voice. “I’ve been ready for—”

  Chen closed one paw around the tiny positronic processor, too small to properly call a droid and too personable to call anything else. Concealing Flirt in his grip, he glanced up.

  “Still clear.” Tinian stood like a statue with one hand over her blaster.

  Chen clipped Flirt to her secure perch on his bandolier down near his hip.

  “Lots of good data,” Flirt chirped. “Inside information on the Millennium Falcon, if you want it. You wouldn’t believe—”

  “We’re not going after the Falcon,” said Tinian.

  “Aww,” squeaked Flirt. “I wanted to—”

  Chen growled another warning. Flirt stopped in mid-squeak. When she stayed quiet, she looked like just one more decorative cube. Chen had had the bandolier made specifically to camouflage her.

  He led the way out. They had other luggage to claim before boarding Bossk’s ship.

  Bossk hurried to a different terminal in the Executor’s troop quarters area. Working rapidly, he pulled down all the information on Chenlambec he could find. Unfortunately, the creature’s Hunt certificate was current. His acquisition list, filed under the underworld nickname, “The Raging Wookiee,” was impressive. This would only raise the jagannath score on his pelt.

  Bossk clawed buttons until he’d called up the incomplete human title, “Tinian.” She hadn’t given a second name. The computer hesitated several seconds before spewing two Wanted designations. One fit this human’s description right down to extremities’ body temperature. Few other races noticed that detail. It was one of many fact
ors that made Trandoshans the best Hunters.

  A modest reward for her capture was offered by the Imperial governor of an industrial planet, Druckenwell. Apprenticed to a licensed Hunter, she was temporarily invulnerable—this was one way minor criminals ducked justice—but once Chenlambec lay dead on his skinning table, she would be fair game. Her bounty was too low to make him fear her abilities, but high enough to cover fuel costs for his Hunt.

  He needed only to get them aboard the Hound’s Tooth.

  But his primary target was Chewbacca. He wasn’t forgetting that rich bounty … nor his humiliation at Gandolo IV … for a microsecond.

  He made his way to Docking Bay Six, where the Hound’s Tooth sat under bright lights, guarded by Imperial stormtroopers. Three of the other Hunt ships had already blasted off. The Hound glistened, too new to have collected a patina of scars, pits, and scorch marks. Aware of the staring stormtroopers, he marched stiff-legged to its ramp. “Bossk,” he announced. “Boarding.”

  It took the Hound less than a second to check his voice pattern. “Confirmed,” said a metallic baritone voice. Bossk liked a ship that could speak for itself. He’d paid extra for responsive programming. The Hound’s Tooth dropped its port boarding ramp.

  He hustled up into the cockpit. Hurriedly he checked his security systems, paying particular attention to the port sleeping cabin.

  Satisfied, he strode along a curving passage to one of his aft holds. His passengers would need enough space to store three hundred kilos … of what? Puzzling over the question, he flicked his tongue. Whatever they brought, the Hound soon would identify it, and Bossk soon would own it.

  He took up a position inside the Hound’s Tooth’s main airlock and waited for his boarding party.

  Tinian approached across the Executor’s mirror-bright deck. She steered a repulsor locker with her left hand, keeping her right hand near the blaster that hung from her slouch belt. A black duffel hung over her left shoulder.

  “Welcome aboard the Hound’s Tooth. You and your companion will share the port cabin,” he told her. “I left its hatch open. Walk directly in and stow your gear. I’ll join you later.”

  She steered into the ship’s comfortable dimness.

  He turned his attention to the far more interesting sight of Chenlambec leading two Imperial service droids. Each droid hauled a large storage locker, and the Wookiee hefted a weapons crate over his head.

  “What’s in there?” Bossk addressed a squatty draft droid on two tractor treads.

  Chenlambec growled unintelligibly. Bossk suspected he’d just been cursed. He flicked his tongue in reply, then pushed away from the bulkhead. “Follow me.”

  He led aft out of the brilliant light, past the passenger cabin toward his smaller cargo bay, where he’d cleared a few meters of deck space. “Pile it here. Touch nothing else.”

  Chenlambec hooted at the service droids. They set down their burdens, swiveled on their treads, and squeaked back toward the passage, returning to the Executor’s droid pool.

  Bossk’s huge, red-and-bronze X10-D service droid rolled forward. Chenlambec backed away from it, baring his teeth.

  “ExTen-Dee will secure your objects for flight—” Abruptly Bossk felt a presence behind him. He spun, automatically aiming his blast rifle.

  “Easy, Bossk.” Tinian stalked into the cargo bay with both hands raised. “What is that monster?”

  “I told you to go to your cabin.” Bossk let his rifle dangle again. The X10-D unit was no monster, but to humans and Wookiees, who needed excessive light to see clearly, the droid would look enormous. “That is my draft droid.”

  Tinian walked around the gleaming red unit. Roughly Trandoshan in shape, the X10-D had retractable piston arms that could stretch out three meters, a massive conical torso, and self-propelling roller feet. “I suspected you two would need me to translate before everything was stowed where you wanted it,” she said. Touching X10-D’s glimmering chest, she added, “Maybe you won’t.”

  “I will tell your companion where to stack his lockers, and ExTen-Dee will secure them,” Bossk answered. “On this ship, droids and Wookiees are ordered to listen, not speak.”

  Chenlambec growl-barked.

  “Some of this is delicate equipment,” said Tinian. “Do you have lashing cables?”

  “My draft droid will anchor your gear.”

  Chenlambec hooted.

  “We want to watch,” said Tinian.

  “Watch if you want.”

  It took an hour to secure the pair’s belongings. “Remember our bargain,” Tinian said as X10-D returned to his position along the rear bulkhead. “We don’t search your ship, you don’t touch our equipment.”

  “And you stay out of everything.” Bossk pointed a long claw at her.

  Chenlambec shook a hairy paw and roared.

  She glowered up at the Wookiee. “Of course not, Ng’rhr. Not this time.”

  Bossk crossed his forearms and smiled. Evidently this pair was not perfectly cohesive.

  He could easily promise not to touch their gear. The Hound’s Tooth’s security scanners and its onboard computer were matchless.

  Other than the X10-D unit, he required no crew. The ship’s intelligence also helped overcome a Trandoshan’s one real handicap: other races’ technology was not made for Trandoshan hands, and even the ship’s special fittings were sometimes clumsy.

  He led them back to the Hound’s airlock. As it hissed shut and he sealed the pair on board, he murmured worshipful thanks to the Scorekeeper. He would use these passengers until he no longer needed them.

  Then he would start skinning.

  “We’ll cut cables as soon as you’re ready,” he informed them. “I have acceleration chairs in the larger cargo hold.”

  “I don’t think I trust your acceleration chairs,” answered Tinian.

  Bossk laughed deeply. “If I want your scalp and his pelt, I’ll take them … but not before Lomabu III. We all want Chewbacca and Solo. We’ll capture them together.”

  • • •

  Tinian peered up the narrow passageway. She couldn’t make out much detail. She knew Trandoshans saw in the infrared, but she didn’t have IR goggles. She’d never owned a pair.

  “Where is this waypost?” Bossk clomped up behind her. “I need coordinates now.”

  Chen hooted a series of numbers. Tinian repeated them. She added, “It’s programmed to destroy any non-Wookiee that approaches. From the time we drop out of hyperspace, the Hound’s Tooth must maintain scanner and sensor silence and total shielding, unless Chen is the only one outside your shielded area.”

  “I understand.” Bossk flicked his tongue. “Shall I show you to the acceleration chairs now?”

  “We’ll ride in our bunks.” She adjusted her duffel.

  Bossk shrugged. “Suit yourself. Don’t blame me if you get thrown around.”

  Tinian ducked back into the sleeping cabin. Roughly three meters by four, it was so dark that everything inside looked gray. Chen squeezed in after her, looking like a massive black shadow. Bossk’s scaly back retreated up the main passage.

  She pulled out a luma and shone it around. Bunks, storage compartments … also a small washcabin, comfortably sized for her but cramped for a Trandoshan or a Wookiee.

  Tinian swept her luma up and down a bulkhead, looking for a power point. “Here,” she said. It was at her shoulder level, an easy height for Bossk or Chenlambec to access. Chenlambec stowed his duffel inside a compartment.

  “Goody,” Flirt chirped from her bandolier perch. “Did you get a look at that big droid? What a specimen!”

  A smooth, low thrum began. Tinian looked up at Chen and added ruefully, “Nicely tuned engines.”

  Chen answered shortly. She knew he loved his little saucer-shaped Wroshyr, even though it was growing seedy. He must hate leaving it in the Executor’s storage bay, paying Imperials by the day while they remained on board Bossk’s ship.

  “If this goes well, we’ll be able to pay parki
ng for fifty years. If not, we won’t care. Don’t worry, Ng’rhr.” She gathered a handful of fur in one hand and tugged hard. Wookiee fur felt softer than it looked.

  Chen pulled Flirt off his bandolier. He held her in one massive hand while he ordered her to concentrate on securing their cabin.

  “Right,” added Tinian. “Bossk wants to get to that waypost, but he’s not going to leave us up and around.”

  “So plug me in,” Flirt exclaimed. She emitted a happy squeak as Chen pushed her connector into the power point. Then she hummed tunelessly, her version of electronic contentment.

  Chen had inherited Flirt from a slain hunting companion. The other Wookiee—Chen had never named him to Tinian—had invented the illegal droid and programmed her to seduce an intelligent computer. Flirt could open data streams, shut down security, and substitute her owners’ commands for the operator’s … all without needing to plug into an information outlet. Any power point would do. Inside her titanium shell, the first centimeter was packed with sensor and antenna windings.

  But she wasn’t dependable. Some jobs that sounded easy to Tinian took Flirt hours to accomplish. That was why they’d prepared three contingency plans.…

  “She sounds happy.” Tinian climbed onto the top bunk and strapped in, using heavy webbing that looked black in the dim light If her eyes hadn’t adjusted by now, they probably wouldn’t. This light was too faint for humans. “I hope she hurries.”

  Chen stood beside the two narrow bunks and braced himself against the deck and the upper bulkhead, where he would block Tinian’s fall if she rolled. He wondered aloud if Bossk were operating the Hound’s Tooth alone.

  “If he is, the onboard computer’s got to be more powerful than any we’ve ever seen.” Tinian rolled onto her side and eyed Flirt.

  Chen muttered.

  “And our scaly friend has probably got connections in shipbuilding circles.” He was probably listening, too. She added, “It’s a good-looking ship.”

  Chen grinned, showing teeth. He grunted several insults.

  Tinian grinned back. “He’s probably got a translation program activated.”

  Chen told Bossk what he could do with his translation program. Flirt sat glued like a mynock to her bulkhead, introducing herself to the most powerful onboard computer she had ever encountered. Tinian guessed that the Hound was too intelligent a ship to be easily dazzled.