Star Wars Adventures 005 - The Shape-Shifter Strikes

by Ryder Windham

  Still in Jango’s arms, the woman’s facial muscles shifted, and her hair lightened to a reddish bronze. Then Zam Wesell asked, “Think you could ever really shoot me?”

  “Only if I had to,” Jango said, as he gently put her down.

  “You say the sweetest things,” Zam said. She pulled off her tunic and then removed the armored vest that Jango had let her borrow. As she peeled the bandage off her throat, she said, “All right, so now you know that Holowan is on Kuat, and that she’s protected because she’s the daughter of some wealthy guy. You’re all set on Holowan.”

  Jango removed his helmet and said, “Not quite. Given the situation with Cradossk, I want to get Boba back to Kamino, where he’ll be safe. But I don’t want to lose Holowan, either.”

  “Sounds like you need help,” Zam said.

  “Not help,” Jango said. “Assistance. I want to hire you to capture Holowan for me. It won’t be easy. Cradossk hinted that someone has hired him to hunt Rodd, Holowan, and Groodo as well. But, Cradossk seems less interested in the bounty than in having me join the Bounty Hunters Guild.”

  “I’ll deal with Cradossk, if I have to,” Zam said.

  “Holowan probably has guard droids, possibly Razor Eaters,” Jango said.

  “Razor Eaters?” Zam repeated. “Like the one that nearly killed you on Balmorra?”

  “I wasn’t ready that time,” Jango said. “Groodo’s orbital starship yard and fortress were protected by Razor Eaters. But I dealt with them. They really aren’t invincible.”

  “If that’s the case, why don’t I return Boba to Kamino, and you go to Kuat?”

  “Because there’s something else I have to do on Kamino. If you deliver Holowan alive, I’ll pay you one hundred thousand credits.”

  Zam raised her eyebrows. “One hundred thousand Republic credits?”

  “That’s right,” Jango said. “That was the fee I accepted. You bring in Holowan, and the money’s yours. Agreed?”

  “For one hundred thousand Republic credits,” Zam said, “I’ll bring Holowan anywhere you want.”

  Jango and Zam resolved to rendezvous in orbit of Commenor, a planet that was a short hyperspace jump from Kuat. After Zam left Slave I, Jango went to his comm console and entered an encrypted HoloNet transmission to the planet Geonosis. Less than a minute later, the holographic image of Tyranus appeared above Jango’s holocomm projector.

  “Progress report?” asked Tyranus.

  Jango didn’t waste any words. “I have Senator Rodd, but there have been unexpected problems. I require one hundred thousand credits in advance of delivery.”

  “Since you already have the Senator, that seems in order,” Tyranus said. “The credits will be transferred to your account immediately. Any other problems?”

  “The head of the Bounty Hunters Guild was also hired to hunt Rodd, Holowan, and Groodo.”

  “That is an unfortunate development,” Tyranus said with a small frown. “Was he hired to capture, or kill the trio?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  Tyranus said, “I will learn who hired him, then make certain the bounty is dropped. Anything else?”

  “That’s all for now.”

  Tyranus broke the connection, and his hologram vanished. Jango had no idea how Tyranus would accomplish his goals, but he had to trust that Tyranus would get things done, for the simple reason that Tyranus was extremely capable at getting things done.

  Jango left the comm console and went to Boba’s bunk. Boba’s eyes were closed, but Jango could tell his son wasn’t sleeping. Jango nudged Boba’s shoulder, and Boba opened his eyes. Jango said, “Time to leave. I’m taking you back to Kamino. Want to fly us out of this spaceport?”

  “Yes, sir,” Boba said. He climbed down from his bunk and said, “I’m sorry I disappointed you, Father.”

  “You didn’t disappoint me, Boba. Not at Fondor, when you planted the tracker on Senator Rodd’s starship. And not today, when you faced down the head of the Bounty Hunters Guild. But we both learned that you’re not ready for this line of work, and I learned that I’m not willing to risk your life. But you… you’ll be ready soon enough. And when you are, we’ll take on the galaxy together.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Boba said. “I’ll make you proud. I promise.”

  Jango and Boba settled into their seats in the cockpit, then launched away from Esseles. In Slave I’s prisoner hold, Senator Rodd felt the ship take off and wondered if his nightmare would ever end.

  Bossk woke up in the office of Docking Bay 32 with a throbbing headache. He grunted as he felt the back of his head, then pushed himself up from the floor and looked around. His father was no longer behind the desk, and the dark-haired boy was gone. Bossk was about to take a step for the door when he felt something scrape against his left ankle. He looked down to see a recording rod taped to his leg.

  Bossk tore the tape off and examined the recording rod. He’d never used one before, but he’d seen his father use the device to make two-dimensional video recordings. He thumbed a switch on the side of the rod, and then watched the small playback screen flicker to life. On the playback screen, he saw a recorded video image of his father.

  “Hello, Bossk,” Cradossk said from the recording rod. He appeared to be sitting in the chair behind the desk in the very office where Bossk was now standing. Bossk looked away from the recording rod to the empty chair behind the desk, then looked back at the recorded image of his father.

  “Where are you?” Bossk snarled. “Say something!”

  Cradossk’s image smiled and said, “If you’re as stupid as I know you are, son, you’ve probably already forgotten that you’re holding a recording device, not a comm unit, and you’ve probably asked me a question.”

  “I’m not stupid!” Bossk hissed at the image of his father. “You’re the stupid one!”

  Cradossk continued, “And by now, you’re probably saying that I’m the stupid one, but then I’m not the fool who got shot in the back of the head again. And if you don’t believe me, here, see for yourself.” The image on the playback screen shifted and Bossk viewed himself lying facedown on the office floor. Bossk roared.

  “Easy, son,” Cradossk’s voice came from the recording, and the playback screen shifted back to focus on the head of the Bounty Hunters Guild. “Don’t go breaking the recording rod, because I have a very important message for you. I found out that the bounty hunter who shot you might be heading for Kuat. See, while you were knocked out, I placed a call to an information broker, who told me that Hurlo Holowan has a wealthy, powerful father on Kuat. My guess is the hunter who shot you is going after Holowan, also. Seems to me you might be able to kill two nerfs with one stone, so to speak—get your mystery attacker and also capture Holowan.”

  “Yeah?” Bossk said, forgetting once again that he was reviewing a recording.

  “And just to give you the chance to really show your stuff, son, I’ll have already left Esseles by the time you hear this, so you’re on your own. If you can’t find Kuat, you know the way home.”

  Bossk howled in anger and brought his arm back, preparing to hurl the recording rod across the office, when his father’s voice continued, “Oh, and one more thing. I’m guessing that right about now, you’re ready to smash the recording rod, so I should probably warn you that I’m inserting a powerful explosive into the rod’s handle.”

  “Explosive?” Bossk hissed. He brought the recording rod back in front of his eyes and glared at the playback screen. On the screen, Cradossk’s claws obscured the video image as he made an adjustment to the rod.

  “That about does it,” said Cradossk’s recorded voice. “The explosive is set. And just so this message doesn’t fall into the wrong hands, this rod will self-destruct in three seconds.”

  Bossk dropped the rod onto the desk and nearly tripped over his own feet, as he launched himself through the doorway and out of the office. He hit the ground, rolled, covered his head, and waited for the explosion.

  Nothing happe
ned.

  Bossk waited a full thirty seconds, then heard someone laughing from inside the docking bay office. He picked himself up, ignoring the stares of curious pedestrians, and walked back to the open doorway. Standing there, he realized he was listening to his father’s recorded laughter.

  “Bwah-haw-haw!” Cradossk chuckled. “I sure wish I could’ve seen your face, Bossk. Sorry for the false alarm. Here’s the real three-second warning. Three… two…”

  “Yeah, right,” Bossk said.

  The recording rod exploded. The blast knocked Bossk off his feet, and carried him halfway across the street, where he landed in a heap.

  Bossk sat up and spat at the ground. At moments like this, he truly, truly hated his father.

  He stood up and stole the first starship he found.

  One hundred thousand Republic credits, Zam Wesell muttered to herself as she watched the spectacle of hyperspace shimmer and warp past her viewport. She was sitting in the cockpit of a sleek, late-model Subpro Corporation StarNailer-class fighter, which she had stolen from among the many ships in the mass-transport docking bay at Curamel Intergalactic Spaceport. There were three reasons why Zam had selected the StarNailer. First, it had a Class-Two hyperdrive, which would get her from Esseles to Kuat faster than most civilian crafts. Second, it was a rare and expensive ship, so its theft would almost certainly be reported on the HoloNet. And third, anyone who left a StarNailer in a mass-transport docking bay—instead of a secure hangar—deserved to have it stolen.

  The second reason was the trickiest. Zam was counting on the StarNailer’s theft being posted with every planetary law enforcement agency in the regions of the Core Worlds and Colonies, if not the galaxy. With any luck, she would be arrested within a few minutes of her arrival in the Kuat system.

  One hundred thousand Republic credits, Zam repeated. She wondered who would offer a bounty for that much money just for Hurlo Holowan—then she decided she didn’t really want to know. Clients with that much money could pay for worse things than having others captured or killed, and Zam preferred to deal with such clients indirectly.

  A light winked above the StarNailer’s nav computer, signaling that the fighter was about to drop out of hyperspace. Twenty seconds later, hyperspace unfolded around the StarNailer, and the ship entered realspace in the Kuat system.

  Kuat was home to the corporation Kuat Drive Yards, which manufactured starships. The planet was a world of densely forested land masses but it was literally obscured by the many space stations in its orbit. Zam knew that Kuat was heavily defended, and that her chances of reaching the planet directly on her own would have been extremely slim, if not impossible. Which was why she wanted to be captured.

  As Zam steered toward Kuat, the StarNailer’s transponder silently announced the ship’s arrival in the area. Zam was still heading for the planet when two Kuat patrol ships raced away from Kuat Passenger Port, one of Kuat’s more colossal space stations, and drew up alongside the StarNailer.

  Zam felt the StarNailer shudder as the two patrol ships locked onto her ship with tractor beams. She flipped on the StarNailer’s comm to hear a Kuati pilot order, “You are under arrest for piloting a stolen ship. Surrender at once!”

  “I surrender,” Zam said in a deliberately quavering voice, then killed the StarNailer’s engine, allowing the patrol ships to easily tow the StarNailer to a docking bay at Kuat Passenger Port. By the time Zam’s ship had been hauled into the docking bay, she had transformed her face and body to match the voice she had used. When she emerged from the StarNailer and shuffled onto the docking bay deck, the Kuati security guards did not see Zam Wesell, but a lean, timid-looking old man in a dark, form-fitting bodysuit.

  While three security guards aimed blaster rifles at Zam, two more guards removed her weapons: a KYD-21 blaster pistol and a universal key that was held in a sheath against her left thigh. After her belongings were placed in a satchel, one of the guards looked her square in the eye and—seeing a man before him—said, “Got any identification?”

  Zam shook her head, then nervously stuttered, “N-n-no, sir.”

  Zam saw a flicker of sympathy in the guard’s expression and knew her disguise was a success. To the guards, Zam was a harmless, feeble simpleton.

  The guard said, “State your name and homeworld.”

  Zam stuttered, “Muh-Muh-Marby Welcus of Corellia.”

  “What were you doing with the StarNailer, Welcus?”

  “Stuh-Stuh-StarNailer?”

  “The ship, sir. Why did you take the ship from Esseles?”

  Twisting her own expression into one of desperate sadness, Zam said, “I duh-duh-don’t know.”

  “Come with us, Welcus.”

  As the security guards escorted Zam across the docking bay, two more patrol ships entered through the docking portal with their tractor beams locked onto a battered old starfighter. Zam had a clear view of the pilot inside the starfighters cockpit. The pilot was a Trandoshan, and he didn’t look happy—not that a Trandoshan ever really did. Especially a Trandoshan named Bossk.

  “You can’t arrest me!” Bossk snarled at the twelve Kuati security guards who surrounded him on the docking bay deck. He swatted at one guard’s raised blaster rifle and growled, “Don’t you point that at me!”

  A captain of the Kuat Space Patrol stepped in and said, “Sir, you were piloting a stolen starship.”

  Bossk gaped. “Don’t you know who I am? Bossk! Son of Cradossk, Head of the Bounty Hunters Guild!”

  “So you’ve told us,” said the captain, who then turned to another guard and whispered, “Do we have restraints that will hold this guy?”

  “I’m on assignment!” Bossk growled. “You gotta respect that! Interfering with a licensed bounty hunter is a criminal offensive!”

  “Offensive?” said the captain. “Don’t you mean an offense?”

  “That’s what I said!” Bossk snapped. “Now let me go immediately!”

  The captain took a cautious step back and said, “Bossk, there are presently a dozen blaster rifles aimed directly at your head. If you do not hand over your weapon immediately, and allow us to escort you to a detention cell, I will personally deliver your corpse to your father.”

  Bossk hawked and spat at the captain’s boots and said, “I’d like to see you try!”

  The captain frowned, and Bossk heard the sound of twelve blaster-rifle energy switches being thumbed from STUN to KILL power.

  Bossk laughed, throwing his weapon down. “Want my weapon? Here! Take it!”

  Zam Wesell was escorted by two guards to a chamber where a sentry sat at a console across from a row of ten lockers. She watched as a guard removed a key from a ring on his belt and opened one of the lockers. After the guard deposited the satchel that contained Zam’s weapons into the locker, he secured the locker door and then returned the key to his ring. The sentry glanced at Zam and saw what the others saw: a sad-looking old man.

  The two guards led Zam to a cell and locked her inside. It was a small cell, but it was equipped with sanitation facilities and a narrow bunk made of metal. There were no windows, and Zam wondered whether the cell was soundproof. Seconds later, she knew the cell was not soundproof—she could hear Bossk shout as he was brought into the detention area.

  Bossk roared, “You think these restraints can hold me? Huh? Just wait’ll I get my claws on you, shorty!”

  Zam heard Bossk being thrown into a neighboring cell and the receding footsteps of the guards who had delivered Bossk to the detention area. Figuring that the cell would contain the Trandoshan for at least a short while, she decided it was time to proceed with her mission to capture Hurlo Holowan.

  At this point, you must decide whether to continue reading this adventure, or to play your own adventure in the Star Wars Adventures The Shape-Shifter Strikes Game Book.

  To play your own adventure, turn to the first page of the Game Book and follow the directions you find there.

  To continue reading this adventure, turn the p
age!

  Although the Kuat Passenger Port security guards believed they had taken all of “Marby Welcus’s” weapons, they failed to notice a layer of fake skin on Zam’s left arm; concealed under the layer was a narrow strip of explosive polymer, a special material designed by Zam. The thing she liked best about it was that for all the damage it could do, it didn’t make a lot of noise.

  Zam peeled off the fake layer of skin, removed the explosive strip, and stuck it to the cell door. She pulled a plastic tab from the end of the strip, then rolled under the metal bunk and covered her head. A moment later, the strip exploded, and there was a muffled pop that blew the door straight out of the wall.

  Smoke and dust were still pouring out from the cell’s shattered doorway when Zam leaped out to confront her two guards. Both guards had been knocked down by the explosion and were attempting to rise when Zam let loose with a well-placed kick that instantly rendered the closest guard unconscious. She used her fist to club the other guard on the back of the head.

  “Hey!” Bossk shouted from within his cell. “What’s going on out there?”

  Ignoring Bossk, Zam stepped over the defeated guards’ bodies. One was about Zam’s size. She examined his face, then manipulated her own to resemble his, feeling her facial muscles contort with the effort. She quickly removed the guard’s uniform and pulled it over her own bodysuit. Attached to the guard’s belt was a stun baton and the ring of keys for the lockers in the outer chamber.

  Wearing the guard’s uniform, Zam left the detention area and headed down a corridor that led to the chamber with the lockers. When she saw the sentry seated behind a security console across from the lockers, she kept her head down and said in a low tone, “We need your help with the Trandoshan.”

  “Something wrong with your voice?” the sentry asked, as he looked up at the guard. He never saw the stun baton coming. Zam hit the sentry once, catching him just below his left ear, and the man’s body spasmed, then slipped out of his seat and slumped unconscious to the floor.