by K. W. Jeter
"That may not be what you want at all. Especially when you do find out." Fett lifted his shoulders in a minimal shrug." It might not be to your liking."
"Those chances," said Neelah," I'd rather take. Instead of not finding out."
"Don't worry about it. You'll find out soon enough."
Neelah's voice turned ominously quiet." I'd rather not wait."
She managed to take him by surprise. Boba Fett had reached out across the controls, to access the navicomputer display positioned awkwardly high on the cockpit panel. He felt a slight, almost imperceptible tug at the equipment belt of his Mandalorian battle armor. That alone was enough of a signal to trigger his turning sharply about in the pilot's chair to face Neelah.
But the female had already darted back to the cockpit's hatchway. Neelah raised the blaster pistol that she had managed to lift from its holster at Boba Fett's waist. Holding the weapon in both hands, she aimed it directly at the center of Fett's dark-visored helmet.
"I wasn't joking," said Neelah. The thin smile at the corner of her mouth was a grim indicator of her intent." When I said I'd like to crack your head open. I wonder. . . just how many bolts from this thing do you think it'll take?"
Boba Fett leaned back in the pilot's chair." Congratulations," he said. He had stowed most of his weaponry for safekeeping, to avoid the various pieces of his portable arsenal from interfering with his activities in the cockpit. The small blaster pistol had been the only weapon he had kept with him. He gestured toward it, as it stayed unwavering in Neelah's grasp." Not many creatures have pulled off a trick like that. Getting the drop on me is a pretty rare occurrence."
A sneer twisted the corner of Neelah's mouth." It was easy."
He had to admit that she had gotten the weapon away from him with a surprising show of deftness. Or perhaps not so surprising; with what he knew of her background, her identity before she had wound up as a memory-wiped dancing girl in Jabba the Hutt's palace, skills like this were more common than not. She was far more than a mere child of aristocracy; if he failed to remember that, it was at his own peril.
"Perhaps so," said Boba Fett." That doesn't mean it was a good idea. You may have some pretty fast moves, but trust me-they're nothing compared to mine. Before you could press the firing stud on that piece, I'd be out of this chair, and my forearm would be against your throat. And after that, things would get even more unpleasant for you."
"I'm willing to risk it." Neelah shrugged." What have I got to lose? You're not telling me what I want to know. What I need to know. At least this way, if I get off one good shot, I'll have the satisfaction of getting a good reason for you clamming up on me. Think of it this way: being dead is the perfect excuse."
Boba Fett had already calculated the precise distance between himself and the female, the exact angle, speed, and direction of the moves necessary to get the weapon away from her. He could do it without even getting winged by the one blaster bolt she would be able to fire in that microsecond interval. Better, he told himself, if I don't have to do that. For one simple reason: a wild shot inside the confines of the ship's cockpit could have some serious consequences. Even now, the Hound's Tooth wasn't in the operational shape he would have preferred; its previous owner's sloppiness had seen to that. He would be able to repair any structural damage the bolt would cause-the weapon didn't have enough power to pierce the hull-but if it took out any of the control panel, tracing and patching the unfamiliar circuits would take time. And time was a commodity that was in short supply at the moment. There was business to take care of, a long way from here.
"I've been close enough to dead," said Boba Fett," that I'm not eager to repeat the experience."
Neelah raised the blaster a little higher, sighting
over its barrel at her target." Then you better start talking."
"No-" Boba Fett gave a single shake of his head." I don't think so."
"What?" The female's brow creased." What do you mean?"
"It's simple." Boba Fett gestured toward her." You've got as much to lose as I have. Kill me, and you'll never find out what you want to know."
Tilting her head to one side, she peered closer at him." Maybe with you out of the way, I'll be able to find out the truth from someone else."
"Maybe." Boba Fett gave another shrug." But if you guess wrong about that-if I'm the only one that knows the score about who you really are-then you'll have knocked off the only person with the answers. Sure that's a risk you want to take?"
For a few seconds more, Neelah seemed to be considering her options. Then she lowered the blaster." I suppose not." Her angry expression hadn't faded." Looks like you talked your way out of this one."
"You'll thank me for it later." He held out his hand." I'll take the piece back, if you don't mind."
Neelah shook her head." I've still got a use for it."
He watched her as she turned in the hatchway. With the weapon at her side, she started back down the ladder to the ship's main hold.
At least, thought Fett, she knows what she wants. Getting it was the only problem.
He swung the pilot's chair back toward the controls. He had his own concerns to take care of.
A boot in his ribs woke Dengar up. He blinked, then came swiftly to full, startled consciousness as he
found himself looking into the business end of a blaster pistol.
"Time to start talking," said Neelah. She had the weapon aimed straight at his forehead." I want to hear the rest of the story."
10
THEN
"You gotta admit," said Bossk," it's a nice place for a meeting."
He enjoyed his own grim humor. Keeping the claws of one hand resting on the grip of his holstered blaster, Bossk watched as Boba Fett looked around the moldering crevices and dry cliff faces of the ancient sea trench. The oceans of Gholondreine-B had been sucked down to the last molecule of saline liquid, then transported by a fleet of massive Imperial freighters to an orbital catalysis plant near Coruscant. Economy hadn't been the motivating factor-it was more expensive to ship that amount of water than to synthesize it-but punishment had been. The coastal and inland democracies on the planet's land masses had been irritatingly slow, in the eyes of Emperor Palpatine, to divest themselves of the last vestiges of allegiance to the old Republic. Now, beneath the flat glare of cloud-purged skies, dust wound through the cracked and empty streets of the deserted cities. Neighboring worlds in this sector had received a valuable object lesson in how to respond to the Emperor's commands.
The shell of some long-dead marine animal crunched beneath Boba Fett's boot sole. His ship, Slave I, stood several meters away, the rounded dome of its cockpit transparisteel glinting in the angle of light that managed to penetrate the sea trench. The cleft in the planet's desiccated surface was deep enough that in less than a Standard Time Unit, it would be cast into near-total darkness. That was all right with Bossk; the business that he had to transact with his rival Boba Fett wouldn't take long.
"It's all right." Boba Fett had completed his visual survey of the site, in tandem with the various data readouts on one forearm of his Mandalorian battle armor. The indicator lights had gradually shifted from red to yellow, then finally to green as Slave I's multi-sensor threat-alert systems had finished scanning the area for hidden traps and ambush devices. Bossk had left his own ship in a lowered standby condition at the other end of the trench, so its onboard weaponry wouldn't trigger the other bounty hunter's suspicions." Though it's not quite as private as you might think," said Fett. One gloved hand pointed toward the surrounding cliffs, their crumbling faces towering above the humanoid figures below." I'm picking up signs of quite a few organic life-forms up there."
Bossk emitted a short, harsh laugh." I don't think we have to worry about them." He slung his blaster rifle from behind his back; bracing the weapon against his hip, he fired a maximum-power bolt into the cliff directly above where he and Boba Fett stood. The bolt shattered the dry stone, sending a rain of powdery white du
st and shards down to the trench floor." Check it out," said Bossk. Using the toe of his own boot, he poked through the rubble. A hissing noise came from the needle-fanged mouth of a centipedelike creature, writhing and uncoiling to nearly a meter in length; its yellow eyes blazed with a ferocious malice
as it whipped itself around Bossk's ankle. Before it could sink the points of its fangs into his shin, he had clubbed it off himself with the butt of the blaster rifle. Another blow snapped the creature in two; the separate halves spattered a greenish-black ichor across the trench floor as they spun about in knotting contortions." Pleasant little things, huh? They're not even good to eat. Taste like recycled flange oil."
No reply came from Boba Fett. He had turned the gaze of his dark-visored helmet up toward the cliff face. What had been still and seemingly lifeless before now shimmered in the sunlight's flat glare with intertwining motion, like maggots in rotting flesh. The bolt from the blaster rifle had roused nests full of the many-legged creatures, exuding from holes chewed into the soft, crumbling stone. The sonic impact had been enough to startle the creatures on the other side of the trench as well; for a moment, the walls on either side of Bossk and Boba Fett crawled with coiling insectoid forms and hungry yellow eyes.
"Standard operating procedure for the Empire." Boba Fett displayed no signs of unease as the small shadows of the creatures wavered in the glare reflected from his helmet's visor." Especially when the Emperor's in his punitive mode. These things aren't native to this planet; they're a laboratory hybrid from an Ithorian root-source, genetically enhanced for a zero-moisture environment."
The dead creature had left a black smear on Bossk's boot. He bent down and wiped it off with his thumb-claw." The Empire seeded them here?" He straightened, looking up at the churning stone above him." What good are they?"
"They're not any 'good' at all," said Boba Fett." They exude bio-toxins with a molecular breakdown rate that can be measured in centuries. The levels eventually get high enough to kill them off as well. But by then the entire surface crust of this planet will be riddled with their poison-filled bore holes. There're some refugee colonies of Gholondreine-B natives on the surrounding system worlds, but they won't be coming back to their homeworld for a long time. Palpatine's seen to that."
Bossk felt slightly ill; he figured it was from the effects of having taken an exploratory bite of one of the centipede creatures. That'll teach me, he thought glumly. The thought of anyone deliberately concocting an unpalatable life-form irritated him; in Trandoshan philosophy, eating other creatures, including one's own species, was the whole point of existence, at least one worth living. Cold vindictiveness, such as the kind in which the Emperor indulged himself, didn't sit well with Bossk, either. Even reptiles had more of a capacity for hot-blooded, noble, and annihilating anger.
"You still want to talk business?" Boba Fett sounded amused by Bossk's apparent nausea." You look like you're about ready to lose your lunch."
"Don't worry about me," snarled Bossk." I sent for you to come here for a reason. We got a chance to make some major credits. Big-time stuff."
He hadn't seen Boba Fett in the flesh since they had both been back at the old Bounty Hunters Guild headquarters. The Guild had just started its process of falling apart, right after Bossk had killed his own father, Cradossk. He had been too busy since then, keeping his own faction of younger bounty hunters, the Guild Reform Committee, from splintering any further, to have paid much attention to Boba Fett's comings and goings. Even so, his suspicions had been aroused when Fett had vanished from the old Guild's headquarters, just as if he had finished the job he had been sent there to do. Bossk had heard a lot of rumors since then. The whispered accounts had it that Boba Fett had actually been responsible-intentionally so-for breaking up the Bounty Hunters Guild. Bossk couldn't quite figure out why Boba Fett would have wanted to do that. But if he had, Bossk decided, then he did me a favor. His father, Cradossk, would still be alive and running the show otherwise, and he'd still be waiting for his chance.
"What 'we' are you talking about?" Boba Fett folded his arms across his chest." I've already worked with you once. That's more than I'm in the habit of doing."
Boba Fett's lone-wolf reputation was well deserved; it was the main reason that Bossk had been so amazed and distrustful when Fett had shown up at the Bounty Hunters Guild headquarters and had applied for admission to the organization. But Boba Fett had gone in with Bossk and a couple of the other Guild members-Zuckuss and the droid IG-88-on a team operation. Fett had even brought in one more creature on the operation, the walking animate laser cannon called D'harhan. That had been some genuinely hard merchandise, out on the Shell Hutt world of Circumtore; most of the team had been lucky to get out alive.
As it was, for D'harhan it had been the end of the line. Which proved that teaming up with Boba Fett was not necessarily a good idea; Bossk had vowed to himself to never even consider it again. There were some situations that Boba Fett was willing to walk into, only because that barve was confident that he'd walk back out of them eventually. And if that meant the death of an associate from long ago, like D'harhan, then for Boba Fett that was a price he was more than willing to pay.
Time-and greed-had eroded Bossk's resolution, though. Just too many credits to pass up, he'd told himself. He'd learned his lesson about going in with Boba Fett on an operation like this: Watch your back. That would be easier, Bossk had figured, with just the two of them, instead of a whole team.
"Come on," said Bossk." Why don't we try to talk on a friendly basis?" The scaly muzzles of Trandoshan faces weren't designed for any kind of smiles, let alone ingratiating ones. In expressing positive emotions, Bossk was as handicapped as if he'd been wearing Boba Fett's dark-visored helmet." Things worked out pretty well the last time."
"You didn't think so then." Fett's voice was flat and emotionless." The way you carried on during that whole Circumtore job, I would have thought you had the last of any team operations."
"I changed my mind." Trying to talk another creature into something was way out of Bossk's line; he preferred threats and/or violence. But the chances of either one of those working with Boba Fett were well below zero." Besides-some jobs are just too big for one bounty hunter."
"Speak for yourself."
He had a good idea that Boba Fett knew what he was referring to. The word about this particular piece of hard merchandise had gone through the bounty hunter grapevine at close to hyperspace velocities.
"All right," said Bossk. He decided to drop any pretense of friendliness. That approach was obviously not working. Should've known, he thought grimly. This guy has always been durasteel-plated." Let's just approach it as a business deal. I got a good idea that you and me can pull this one off-if we work it together. Or we can go solo, and both wind up dead."
"As I said before-" Boba Fett didn't even bother giving a shrug." Speak for yourself."
Bossk could feel his own eyes narrowing into slits as his spine tensed with anger. The impulse to launch himself at the other bounty hunter, with his clawed hands going for Boba Fett's throat, was almost overwhelming. The only thing that stopped him was the certainty that while he was still in the air between them, he would already have a hole burnt by Fett's blaster rifle through his chest and out his back. He'd land at Fett's boots as a corpse.
"That does it." Why did I even bother? thought Bossk. This whole meeting was a waste of time. Boba Fett followed no creature's rules but his own." You go your way and I'll go mine. We'll see who gets killed first."
He turned on his heel and started back toward the waiting Hound's Tooth. Shadow had started to fill the dry marine trench, as Gholondreine-B's pallid sun shifted from its overhead zenith. On the trench's darkened wall, the yellow eyes of the centipedelike creatures glinted from their bore holes.
"Wait a minute." Boba Fett's voice called after him.
Bossk glanced over his shoulder, glaring at the other bounty hunter." What?"
"I didn't say I wouldn
't go in with you on this one." The razor-edged shade cut diagonally across Boba Fett. He stood unmoving among the dead and hollowed-out shells of the vanished ocean's inhabitants." I was just giving you the facts about the arrangement."
A cold wind had started to roll down the length of the trench, cutting through the scales of Bossk's flesh and into the bones beneath.
The other bounty hunter's words evoked a slow nod from Bossk." We better settle the rest of it, then." He nodded toward the Hound's Tooth." Might as well talk about it aboard my ship."
Boba Fett shook his head." That's not a good idea."
"What's the matter?" The refusal of his invitation offended Bossk." I'm not trying to set a trap for you. I just want to talk business."
"Oh, I trust you all right." Boba Fett had already started walking back toward his own ship." Just not enough. Besides" -he stopped and turned the visored gaze of his helmet over his shoulder-" I've got something to show you. That you'll find interesting."
Whatever, thought Bossk. He followed after Boba Fett. Dealing with him was a continual, unneeded education in hostility.
The interior of Slave I was exactly as Bossk remembered it from the team operation on Circumtore. He glanced around the bulkheads and holding cages with visceral distaste; Boba Fett kept his ship in a state of maintenance that Bossk personally found offensive. It was like paying a visit to the surgical ward of an Imperial Navy medical crew, with every surface stripped to bare metal and sterilized. As far as Bossk was concerned, a bounty hunter's ship should be an extension of his personality, with every aspect of his spirit having seeped into the structure, right down to the engine ports and the cockpit controls. He was proud that walking around inside the Hound's Tooth was like walking inside the bone limits of his own skull.
Then again, thought Bossk with a sneer, maybe this is Boba Fett's personality. All business-credits and merchandise-and no passion, no actual enjoyment of the violence and terror that came with the bounty hunter trade. What a waste. . .