Slave Ship (star wars)

by K. W. Jeter

  The close confines of the place and its stale, sweat-smelling air didn't seem to bother Voss'on't. With his elbows planted on the small table at which he sat, the ex-stormtrooper nursed along a mug filled with the same near-lethal concoction that Bossk had tasted. Boba Fett's intelligence reports had described Voss'on't as spending the bulk of his time here. From what Bossk could tell, it didn't seem to be for the purpose of getting drunk. Voss'on't carefully paced his intake so that the drink had no apparent impact on him; either that, or he'd had his liver biochemically enhanced to neutralize the intoxicants in the thick, heavy liquid. His sharply angled face, as hard and expressionless as the masklike full helmet he'd worn when he'd been in the Emperor's service, contained eyes narrowed into a permanent squint, surrounded by skin wrinkled and creased as old, flayed leather. White scars showed through the graying buzz-cut that clung to Voss'on't's skull; some of them undoubtedly dated all the way back to his basic training days.

  Becoming an Imperial stormtrooper was no easy process; few had a chance of enduring the violent hammering-in of the military skills that went with the deathly white armor. Those who didn't make it all the way to the end, whose bodies or minds broke under their drill sergeants' sadistic regimens, washed out of the program as corpses. An unquestioning loyalty and obedience to superior officers went with the training; any resistance to commands, however destructive or fatal they might be, was rooted out like diseased nerve tissue.

  For someone like Voss'on't, who had gone through all that and had then served with distinction in one of the stormtroopers' elite units, to have kept hidden deep inside himself a vestige of another nature, one that could even contemplate treason-that spoke of a dark core that was harder and more determined than all the ranks of the other stormtroopers combined. Voss'on't might have been waiting for years, not divulging his plans to anyone around him, as he watched for the perfect opportunity. And then when it had come at last, he had swung into action without hesitation or remorse, applying all his hard-won storm-trooper skills to the task. And if others had to die in the process, for him to make his escape with the codes that would buy his safety, he wouldn't be likely to even give a second thought about it.

  Not bad. Bossk gave a tiny nod of appreciation as he contemplated the narrow-eyed figure sitting at the distant table in the watering hole's gloom. Trhin Voss'on't was exactly the sort of tough, murderous scum that he could admire. If circumstances had been different, he could have imagined teaming up with the ex-stormtrooper rather than with Boba Fett. Voss'on't would have made a worthwhile addition to the ranks of the Bounty Hunters Guild, once Bossk had succeeded in putting the organization back together again. He supposed it was just one of the ironies of life in this galaxy that the price of re-forming the Guild was going to be paid out of Voss'on't's hide. Once Emperor Palpatine got through with him, after the renegade had been captured and cashed in, there wouldn't be enough left to even make a decent trophy out of him-by all reports, the Emperor wasn't given to the same sentiments about keepsakes as Trandoshans were.

  Boba Fett had broken the comm connection; the cochlear implant in the side of Bossk's head had gone silent. The other bounty hunter, wherever he was at the moment, was presumably busy, setting up the rest of the plans for snaring Voss'on't. He'd better be, thought Bossk grumpily. There wasn't so much traffic in and out of this dump that Bossk's presence here wouldn't be eventually noticed and commented upon. Trhin Voss'on't had given him a suspicious glance when he had come into the gloomy confines of the watering hole, then had looked away, as though satisfied that the newcomer presented no threat to him. Voss'on't might change his mind about that assessment if Bossk hung around much longer, without some other creature joining up with him. The only credible reason for hanging out in a place like this was for the purposes of conducting business, usually far enough on the shady side of the law that any illumination at all would be unwelcome. There wasn't a species in the galaxy so depraved or devolved as to come here for the atmosphere or the quality of the drinks. Bossk was beginning to regret having drank as little of the foul-tasting fluid as he had.

  He also figured that it would be a dead giveaway if he spent too much time keeping watch on Trhin Voss'on't. Creatures in a place like this demanded some measure of privacy, even when they were sitting at a table right out in the open. Minding anyone's business other than your own was a sure route to a blaster bolt through one's gut. And somebody on the run from Emperor Palpatine would likely be even jumpier about being snooped around.

  Voss'on't wasn't even facing in Bossk's direction, but the preternatural awareness he was likely to possess would be the equivalent of having eyes in the back of his head. There were plenty of species in the galaxy like that, with a 360-degree field of view around themselves-but it took a deep level of suspicion for a humanoid to achieve the same effect.

  Holding the stone mug in both his clawed hands, Bossk shifted his gaze over to the other patrons of the watering hole. Most of them seemed to be personnel left over from the planet's brief period as an Imperial mining colony. Stupid barves, thought Bossk dismissively. They had gotten what they deserved, for being either stupid or unlucky enough to have been conscripted for a tour of duty like this. When the colony's mines had been abandoned as unprofitable, they had been left behind like so much discarded machinery, not worth the cost of freighting to any other location. Now they sat hunched over their brain-numbing potions, slowly trickling out the last of their wages for a few moments of thought-dead oblivion. Even if any of them could afford to get off-planet, there was no place for them to go, no world with a need for their marginal skills. Most of the former miners had let themselves be surgically altered, just for the privilege of rooting beneath the planet's rocky crust for whatever the Empire had once deemed valuable. Their skulls were thickened with massive layers of hormonally induced bone growth, as a form of subdermal safety helmet suitable for mining work, extending nearly to the width of their shoulders; their faces were masked with intricate folds of spongy air-filtration ciliae, dangling like pink and white moss over their throats-that was the Imperial bio-modification clinics' idea of protection against silicosis and other lung-fouling diseases. Even their hands had been altered, the fingers replaced with curved sections of durasteel, that meshed with another to form sharp, scooplike appendages, the better for scrabbling in the rocks and loose gravel of the quarry tailings. But not much good for any other use; the former miners had to clumsily grasp the stone mugs in front of them between the edges of their surgically transformed hands, in order to lift the drinks to their hidden mouths. With their labor-hunched spines and dull, sodden eyes, they looked like some enlarged subspecies of Venedlian sandmole, with just enough brains buried in the recesses of their gargantuan crania to be aware of their own degradation. Even as he gazed at the poor creatures, Bossk dismissed them as being of no more importance than the daubs of faded decorative paint on the watering hole's walls. The Empire left victims wherever its reach extended; these were just more of them.

  "You looking for someone?"

  A harsh, flat voice broke into Bossk's thoughts. He turned and looked up. And found himself gazing straight into the face of Trhin Voss'on't.

  The former Imperial stormtrooper stood at the edge of the table bearing Bossk's drink. Voss'on't placed both his hands against the table's surface and brought his face down close to the Trandoshan's. Bossk could see even more clearly the old scars that straggled through the close-cropped hair on Voss'on't's skull.

  "Did you hear me, pal? I asked you a question."

  Bossk's initial impulse was to drop one of his own hands down to the side of his belt, pull out his blaster pistol, and bring its cold muzzle up against the bridge of the ex-stormtrooper's nose. He was stopped from doing so by the sure feeling that it would be a bad idea. Either he wouldn't move fast enough, and he would find himself looking into the business end of Voss'on't's weapon, or he would have to blow away a valuable piece of living merchandise. Either way, his profits or his abil
ity to go on breathing, he would lose out.

  "Why do you care?" Bossk kept any sign of his thoughts or emotions out of his voice. The ex-stormtrooper had caught him off-guard-Voss'on't had moved so stealthily and quietly that Bossk didn't have any warning of his approach." You mind your business, and I'll take care of my own."

  Voss'on't leaned in closer to the Trandoshan." My business," he said softly," is remaining alive. I don't like anyone interfering with it."

  "What makes you think-"

  "Shut up." Voss'on't's expression had started out as one of simmering anger, and that hadn't changed." Keep your hands flat on the table, where I can see them. I get nervous when creatures have both their hands and their weapons where I can't keep an eye on what's going on." The cold eyes narrowed their gaze." Believe me-you don't want me getting nervous."

  Bossk unfolded his claws from around the stone mug and flattened them against the table." There. Satisfied?"

  "Not very. I still want to know what you're doing here." The next words came out as a snarl." Bounty hunter."

  Great, thought Bossk disgustedly. He must've spotted me as soon as I walked into this place. The whole time that Bossk had been sitting and nursing along the revolting drink he'd been served, believing he was pulling off his end of the operation, nobody had been fooled at all. Or at least the target of the job hadn't been.

  "That's a new one," said Bossk with as much mildness as he could summon up." I've been accused of being a lot of different things, on a lot of different worlds, but that's the first time anybody's called me one of those." One corner of his scaly muzzle lifted in an approximation of a smile." Sure you're not just looking for a fight?"

  "I don't fight; I'm a very peaceable kind of person." Voss'on't either didn't bother to smile or was incapable of it." I just kill people. Especially creatures who mess around with me."

  "Good thing I'm not in that category." Where was Boba Fett? Bossk felt the scales across his shoulders tightening with irritation. The whole operation was blowing up in Bossk's face-perhaps literally, if Trhin Voss'on't reached for his own blaster pistol-and the other bounty hunter was nowhere to be found. He's off-planet somewhere, seethed Bossk, and I'm about to be killed by the hard merchandise we came here to collect.

  "You can be in the category of dead, if I don't like your answers." Voss'on't turned his scarred head to one side, peering closer to Bossk." Now, some creatures might think I've done some stupid things. And I could even agree with them; getting on the wrong side of Emperor Palpatine isn't a recipe for longevity."

  Bossk nodded." That's more problems than I've got."

  "I'm the only problem you've got right now. And that's enough. Because one stupid thing I didn't do is

  get myself into a situation where I knew there'd be a bounty placed on my head, without compiling a little personal database of just who was most likely to show up looking for me."

  "Ah. I see." The thoughts inside Bossk's head raced at an even faster clip. Now would have been a real good time for Boba Fett to have turned up." I suppose. . . that would be the smart thing to do."

  "That's right. . . Bossk." The ex-stormtrooper practically spat out the name. Keeping his gaze on the Trandoshan, he reached behind himself, grabbed the chair from an empty table, and pulled it around; he sat down, leaning over the back of the chair." How's things with the Bounty Hunters Guild these days?"

  Bossk managed a shrug." Could be better."

  "That's your name, right?"

  There was no point in lying." You got it."

  "Your old man used to run the Bounty Hunters Guild." A sneer crept into Trhin Voss'on't's words." Guess you're not quite up to that, huh?"

  Bossk's cold reptilian blood went up a couple of degrees." Look-" He was close to not caring about the consequences of reaching for his blaster." Let's just leave Guild politics out of the conversation, okay? That doesn't have anything to do with you."

  "It might," said Voss'on't with a trace of amusement." Especially if it gave somebody like you the desire to score a huge bounty. A bounty like the one Palpatine's got riding on me. You could do a lot with that kind of credits, couldn't you?"

  "What if I could?" Bossk eyed the man with deepening suspicion." Anybody could. That's probably why the Emperor is willing to spend the credits. You know? To motivate creatures, to get them to do what he wants-that's what credits are for."

  "Huh. Believe me, pal-the Emperor has other ways of 'motivating' creatures. I know; I've been motivated plenty of times in the service of the Empire. And those ways aren't all as pleasant as credits in your pocket."

  Bossk shrugged." Those other ways don't work on bounty hunters. Credits are the only thing that motivates us."

  "Good for you." Voss'on't gave a slow nod." I forgot; you're all rough and tough, fearless types."

  "Fearless enough."

  "Let me tell you something else. All the credits in the galaxy won't do you any good, if you're not alive to spend them." Voss'on't's gaze narrowed even farther." And I can arrange that. I've already done it for a couple of others in your line of work, who showed up out here on my doorstep."

  "So I've heard." The reports, from Bossk's subordinates in the Guild Reform Committee, had come to him while he and Boba Fett had still been tracking down Voss'on't's hiding place. At least half a dozen other bounty hunters, all of whom had gotten a jump on making a try to capture Trhin Voss'on't, had gotten this far, to this backwater world and this crummy dive-and no farther. Bossk supposed the bodies had been hauled out and dumped in one of the abandoned quarries at the edge of the slowly disintegrating colony structures. There had never been any concern in Bossk's mind that any of the other bounty hunters might actually collect the bounty posted for Voss'on't. None of them had ever had a chance.

  "Then you're a slow learner," said Voss'on't." You should've paid attention to what happened to those other bounty hunters. Right now, you don't even know what you've walked into. I had a lot of credits to spend, when I got done selling off what I

  stole-and there wasn't anybody I had to split those credits up with, either."

  "No-" Bossk slowly shook his head." Not by the time you got done with them."

  "You would've done the same, if you were in my situation."

  "True." Bossk shrugged. Getting rid of one's partners was all in the course of ordinary business, if you could get away with it." Who wouldn't?"

  "Nobody with any sense," said Voss'on't grimly." And I had sense enough to spend the credits making sure that some top-level bounty hunter such as yourself wouldn't be hauling me back to Coruscant and the Emperor's palace anytime soon."

  That remark puzzled Bossk. If he spent the credits on some kind of defenses-it was the same question that had puzzled Bossk before-then where are they? Either they were well hidden, or Voss'on't had gotten cheated on them.

  He was willing to bet that it wasn't the latter. Those other bounty hunters, the ones that had already come this way, wouldn't have gotten killed so readily if Voss'on't's defenses were illusory.

  Besides. . . it was always wiser to assume that when somebody boasted of their ways of arranging your death, they weren't lying. Especially when it came from a former Imperial stormtrooper.

  Bossk cut short his mulling over of the situation." Now what happens?"

  "It's been nice talking to you." Voss'on't spoke with a distinct lack of emotion." Just like I enjoyed talking to those other bounty hunters that came around here. Your type of scum is close enough to that of my former associates-the kind of work we do-that we had something to talk about. For a while, at least. It made for a little change of pace for me." He tilted his head in the direction of the hunchbacked, molelike miners at the watering hole's far tables, with their shovel hands folded around their drinks." I'm afraid these dirt-grubbers here aren't very stimulating conversationalists. So believe me-it's not without some real regret on my part that I'm going to have to kill you. Just to be on the safe side, you know."

  "Yeah, right." Bossk felt ser
iously annoyed. He knew that things were going to get ugly, real quick-and Boba Fett still hadn't deigned to show up on the scene. Some partnership, groused Bossk to himself. For all he knew, Fett had succumbed to an attack of nerves-it had never happened before, as far as Bossk knew, but it wasn't impossible-and had decided not to tangle with the ex-stormtrooper at all. Fett's ship Slave I, with Fett in the cockpit, might be already hitting hyperspace, heading for remoter and safer planetfalls-and leaving Bossk sitting here, holding the bag. Typical, thought Bossk. Can't depend on anybody-unless they're dead. When he got the Bounty Hunters Guild up and running again, with himself at the top of it, he was going to make sure that he got the respect he had deserved for so long, and had never yet gotten. In the meantime, he was going to have to blow away a prime piece of hard merchandise-the biggest bounty ever posted, as far as Bossk could recall-just to keep from getting killed himself. And even that would take some doing. Unless. . .

  An idea had struck him." Before you do that," said Bossk," could you tell me something? Did you spend all the credits?"

  "What's it matter to you?"

  "Well, the truth is that you've got me wrong." Bossk tapped his chest with a single claw." Sure, I know who you are and what kind of price has been put on your head. Everybody in the galaxy probably knows that by now. But I didn't come here to try and haul you in. Do I look like a complete idiot?"

  Voss'on't peered suspiciously at him." Keep talking."

  "Come on-" Bossk spread both his clawed hands apart." Let's face it. The bounty hunter trade isn't what it used to be. At least, not since the old Guild broke up. So creatures have got to find new ways of making a living. You're not the only scum who wants to survive. And I'm not such a fool that I'm likely to think I've got a chance of bringing in a former stormtrooper-especially one who's gotten himself set up the way you have." Using words like this was a new thing for Bossk; the process made him feel a little dizzy. Always before, he had solved problems and gotten out of sticky situations in the standard Trandoshan manner: enough violence to leave somebody dead on the floor. He had lied before-as recently as when he had talked Boba Fett into going in as partners with him on this job-but never at a moment's notice like this. Even though it had been part of the plan from the beginning, he still hadn't prepared himself for it. Bossk plugged ahead, regardless; he had no option otherwise." So. . . I figured, why not cut myself in on a good thing, just from a different angle?" The sheer recklessness of his words was having more of an intoxicating effect than the nauseating fluid in the stone mug could ever have had on him." There's more than one way to make some credits in this galaxy." He put his hands back down on the table and leaned closer to Voss'on't." Let's face it-there's going to be a lot of bounty hunters coming after you. The kind of price you've got on your head-it's guaranteed. And all it's going to take is for one of them to get lucky, and then you're not an ex-stormtrooper anymore. You'll be hard merchandise, on its way back to the Emperor."