“I want them off my back, Cradossk,” Jango said. “You, too.”
Cradossk shook his head. “I don’t know why, Jango, but I’m afraid you really do misunderstand me. I don’t want you to think I’m on your back. I just want you on my side, that’s all. You and me, working together, it would be the greatest. Who knows? We could even become friends.”
“It would never work,” Jango said.
“Why wouldn’t it work?” Cradossk said. He pointed at Bossk, who was snoring steadily, and said, “You arrive on my doorstep with my own scales and blood, my one and only son, trussed up tighter than a bird on a spit. Am I mad at you? No! Do I want revenge? No! And you know why? Because I admire you, Jango. There, I said it. I like your style. But let’s face it: Style only lasts as long as your legs hold out. Now, I don’t know how old you are under that helmet, but let me tell you, I’m getting old, and my legs are starting to hurt. What I’m trying to say is, a guy like you should be thinking about his future.”
“My future is my business.”
“But what about your son, Jango?” Cradossk said. When Jango didn’t answer, Cradossk continued, “Come on, Jango. I got a good, strong whiff of that boy who was with you on Esseles, and I know he’s your son. So, what about his future? Now, I swear I don’t mean this as a threat, but seriously… what if something were to happen to you? Well, if you were a member of the Bounty Hunters Guild, your son’s future would be secure.”
Jango tilted his helmet slightly in Bossk’s direction and said, “As secure as your son’s future?”
Cradossk’s face flushed to a dull orange, but he recovered and said, “You have me there. I’ve tried everything with Bossk, but he keeps disgracing me. Hey, here’s a proposition for you. What would you say, in the name of keeping the peace, you take on Bossk as, say, an apprentice?”
Jango looked at Bossk, then back to Cradossk and said, “All right. I’ll do it.”
Cradossk couldn’t believe his ears. “Really?”
“Under one condition,” Jango said. “While Bossk is with me, my son stays with you.”
“Agreed!” Cradossk said. “See, we can get along!”
“I’ll get my son now,” Jango said. “He’s on the ship.”
Cradossk waited beside Bossk and Skorr while Jango ascended Slave I’s landing ramp. One minute later, Jango appeared at the top of the landing ramp with a repulsorlift cart that hovered half a meter above the ramp. The cart carried a long plastoid box that looked like a coffin.
Jango pushed the cart down to the bottom the ramp. Cradossk looked at the box, which had a transparent window over one end. Through the window, Cradossk saw what looked like the body of Jango’s son. The boy wasn’t moving.
Cradossk’s jaw fell open. Several seconds later, he said, “He’s dead?”
Jango nodded.
Cradossk asked, “How?”
“On Esseles,” Jango said. “I told him to stay on the ship. He didn’t. He disobeyed my order.”
Cradossk’s eyes went wide. “You mean… You? You did this to him?”
“He knew better than to disobey. Now, tell me Cradossk. You still want me to take on Bossk as an apprentice?”
“I…” Cradossk shook his head. “I’ll think about it.”
“Sure, you will,” Jango said, then he turned and began walking up the ramp.
“Wait!” Cradossk said. “The coffin!”
“Keep it,” Jango said without looking back.
But when Jango returned to Slave I’s cockpit and prepared for lift off, he did glance through the cockpit canopy for one last look at Cradossk. The Trandoshan was still staring at the body inside the coffin. Cradossk had no idea that he was staring at nothing more than a brainless genetic construct, a replica of young Boba that had been specially created for Jango by the Kaminoan cloners for the sole purpose of deceiving Cradossk. Jango could tell from the look on Cradossk’s face that the ploy had worked. Cradossk believed Jango’s son was dead, and as long as Cradossk believed that, Boba was safe from the Bounty Hunters Guild.
Jango launched from the platform, and Trandosha was soon far behind him. He set the nav computer for Kamino, and then steered for the hyperspace portal that would carry him home, but then he reconsidered. He thought, Maybe I should stop off somewhere first and pick up a present for Boba. Isn’t that what a good father would do?
11.6.18.15.14.5-1
Star Wars Adventures 006 - The Warlords of Balmorra Page 6