by K. W. Jeter
dull-fanged mercenaries like Cradossk and the rest of the
Bounty Hunters Guild council to swallow a well-oiled
line, then so be it. If anything, it was just proof that
words could trap and kill as well as any other weapon.
"Should you not thank Boba Fett?" The elder standing
near Bossk made a sweeping gesture with his serrated
forearm. "For your sake, has he not repeated what he
already has so eloquently stated to us?"
"And you fell for it." Bossk sneered at all the
council members, his father included. "You don't have the
guts to fight him, so you'd rather believe that he's on
your side now."
Boba Fett raised his inner estimation of the
Trandoshan bounty hunter. He's going to be trouble,
thought Fett. Not just another dumb carnivore. If the
time ever did come when Bossk inherited the leadership of
the Bounty Hunters Guild, it might in fact become serious
competition for him. But right now Bossk's smarts and his
fierce temper were weapons to be turned against him and
the others.
"You'll see, my little one." Cradossk roused himself
into an approximation of sobriety. "If I didn't love you
the way I do, I'd have your scaly hide peeled off and
tanned into a wall hanging for our new member's
quarters." He extended a wobbling claw toward Bossk. "But
because I want there to be something someday for my spawn
to possess and lead, the way I lead the Guild now-and
because I'm not dead yet, so there's still time for you
to gain both some manners and some knowledge of how the
galaxy works-that's why I'm not asking you to be brothers
with Boba Fett. I'm telling you to do it."
"Very well." The slits in Bossk's eyes narrowed into
apertures a honed razor might have cut. "As you wish.
Maybe there is something I can learn from an . . . old
one like you." He smiled the ugly smile characteristic of
his species. "After all-you murdered your way to control
of the Guild. I have but to wait, and it's mine."
"Is not patience a virtue, even among the assassins?"
Bossk pushed the other council member aside, knocking
him against the smaller figure of Zuckuss. The Trandoshan
stepped up to the crescent-shaped table, directly in
front of Boba Fett. One clawed hand grasped the goblet by
its stem. "To your health." Bossk drained the contents,
then threw the goblet against the wall behind; it clanged
like a bell, then rolled clattering across the hard stone
tiles of the floor. "However long it lasts."
"I suppose"-Fett returned the other's gaze- "it'll
last long enough."
Dark wine seeped around Bossk's fangs as he leaned
toward Fett. "You might fool the others," he whispered,
"but you're not fooling me. I don't know what your game
is-but I don't worry about you knowing mine." His voice
dropped lower and more guttural as he brought his snout
almost against the visor of Fett's helmet. "I'll be a
brother to you, all right. And I know how, believe me. I
had brothers when I was spawned. And you know what?"
Bossk's breath smelled of wine and blood. "I ate them."
He turned and strode away, toward the council
chamber's doors. One of Bossk's clawed feet connected
with the empty goblet he had thrown, sending it
skittering against the wall like a tiny droid whose
circuits had been scooped out. The other bounty hunter,
Zuckuss, glanced around at the watching faces, then ran
after Bossk.
Sitting next to Boba Fett, Cradossk heaved a sigh.
"Don't judge us too harshly, my friend." Cradossk took
the flagon from the tray being held near him and refilled
his own goblet. He knocked that back and filled it again.
"Sometimes our get-togethers go a little better than
this. . . ."
10
"You've been a long time away," said the Emperor. The
ancient, withered head slowly nodded. "Many are the stars
you travel among."
"All my journeying is in your service." Prince Xizor
inclined his head, a courtly signal of submission. The
dark serpent of his topknot brushed across his shoulder.
"And to the glory of the Empire."
"Well spoken, as always." Emperor Palpatine swiveled
his throne toward another section of the immense room.
"Whatever else might be said of him, you must agree that
the prince has a way with words. Don't you think so,
Vader?"
Xizor turned toward the hologram of the dark-caped
figure-an intimidatingly life-sized image, transmitted
from the Devastator, Lord Vader's personal flagship.
Don't try it on this one, Xizor warned himself. He had
witnessed too many examples of what happened to those
whose words caused the Dark Lord of the Sith to lose
patience. The Emperor might be keeping him on a short
leash. But one long enough, thought Xizor, to reach my
throat.
"Your judgment, my lord, exceeds mine." Vader kept
his own words as diplomatically inscrutable as the mask
that concealed his face. "You know best where to place
your trust."
"Sometimes, Vader, I think you'd prefer it if I
trusted no one but you." The Emperor put his fingertips
together. Behind him, framed in the towering windows of
the throne room, the curved arms of the galaxy extended,
like shoals of gems in an ink-black sea. Below the stars,
the towers and massive shapes of Imperial City rolled
like the crests of a frozen sea across the hidden surface
of Coruscant, a monument in durasteel to both the
ambition and the grasp of Palpatine. "I see into so many
creatures' hearts, and all I find there is fear. Which is
as it should be." The deep-set eyes contemplated the
empty cage formed by his hands, as though envisioning the
worlds bound by the Empire's power. "But when I look into
yours, Vader, I see ... something else." Like a hooded
mendicant rather than the ruler of worlds, Emperor
Palpatine peered through the angles of his fingers.
"Something almost like . . . desire."
Prince Xizor managed to keep his own smile from
showing. Desire among the Falleen, his species, meant
only one thing. His cruel beauty, the sharply chiseled
planes of his face, and his regal bearing, combined with
a pheromone-rich musk that evaded all conscious senses,
were what put a female of any world under his command.
Humanoid female, of a type pleasing to his own sense of
aesthetics; if the members of the more repulsive of the
galaxy's species were similarly affected, that was not
something he had yet felt the need to put to the test.
"It is only the desire to serve you," said Lord
Vader. "And the Empire."
"Of course; what else could it be?" Palpatine smiled
indulgently, an effect no less intimidating than any
other expression that moved across his age-creased face.
"But I am surrounded by those who wish to serve me.
Xizor, for one-"
The Emperor's hand gestured toward him.
"He says all the same things as you do. If you are closer
to what's left of my heart, Vader, if for the moment I
place more trust in you than I do in others, it's because
of something beyond words."
"Actions," said Xizor with cold hauteur, "indicate
more than words. Judge my loyalty by what I achieve for
the Empire."
"And what is that?" Vader's image turned the force of
his penetrating gaze upon Xizor. "You scurry about on
your mysterious, self-appointed errands, your rounds of
those whose devotion to our cause is somewhat less than
ideal. Fear motivates many creatures, but there are still
those who believe their meager cunning can line their
pockets. Criminals, conspirators, thieves, and builders
of their own little empires-you know too many of those
types, Xizor. I sometimes wonder what their attraction is
for you."
Standing against Vader-even in this insubstantial
form-was like facing radiation hard enough to strip flesh
from bone. Not for the first time Xizor felt an invisible
hand settle around his throat. His own willpower kept the
breath sliding in and out of his lungs. But if Vader were
to unleash his complete wrath, the force of will might
not be enough. Xizor had seen others, the highest-ranking
officers in the Empire's forces, clutching their throats
and gasping for air, writhing like a Dantooinian garfish
caught on a barbed trawling line. Perhaps wisely, Vader
tended to avoid such displays in front of the Emperor;
why tempt the old man into showing how much greater was
his own mastery of the Force that penetrated and bound
the galaxy together?
"There is no attraction for me, Lord Vader." As
always before, he wondered just how much Vader knew. How
much he might suspect, and how much he could prove.
Vader's disdain for the galaxy's less reputable schemers
and thugs was well known; he dealt with such as bounty
hunters only on rare occasions. Which is to my benefit,
thought Xizor. For Vader and the Imperial high command,
criminals and mercenaries were all vermin that would be
swept away, and soon if their latest plans went as
expected. So that kind is left to me-he had built his own
shadow empire, that of the Black Sun, out of exactly such
rejected dregs. If the Emperor and Vader didn't want to
dirty their hands, then he had no such tender scruples.
"I do what I must," said Xizor, not untruthfully. The
fact that he was still standing here, in Emperor
Palpatine's private sanctuary, and not cut down by the
Emperor's or Vader's swift wrath, indicated that Black
Sun still operated in the eclipse of its secrecy, for
now, thought Xizor. He turned toward the Emperor. "This
sacrifice," he lied, "I also make on your behalf. Judge
as well, those who think it beneath them."
"Excellent." The Emperor displayed a cold smile. "If
you had no other value to me, Xizor, I would still
require your presence, just for the . . . stimulating
effect you have on Lord Vader."
He already hates my entrails, thought Xizor as he
glanced over at the black-robed figure. Nothing had been
lost in this exchange.
"But you still haven't answered my questions." The
Emperor leaned forward, his sharp gaze fastening on
Xizor. "I summoned you here for a reason. Let us set
aside, for the time being, all this fractious comparison
between your loyalty and that of Lord Vader. You say you
have been busy on my behalf. . . ."
"On yours, my lord, and the Empire's."
"One and the same thing, Xizor. As all the worlds
shall soon know." The Emperor settled back in the throne.
"Very well. Your doings are not something which you have
discussed with either Lord Vader or myself. Either you
have shown commendable initiative-or foolhardy rashness."
Any trace of amusement had drained out of the Emperor's
voice. "Now is your chance to convince me that the former
is the case."
He had known that this time would come. It was one
thing to go out and set one's schemes in motion-that was
the easy part-but it was another to come back here and
defend those schemes when one's life or death depended
upon eloquence. And, thought Xizor, lying eloquence, at
that.
"As great as your empire is, my lord, it is still at
peril." The combined gaze of Vader and the Emperor made
him feel as transparent as glass, as though their mastery
over the Force enabled them to look straight into the
essence he kept so carefully shielded. "Great are your
powers, but they are still not enough to achieve all that
you want."
"You say nothing new." Contempt showed in the
Emperor's eyes. "That is the same thing that my admirals
tell me. They are not believers, as Lord Vader is; they
doubt the existence of any power that they cannot unleash
with the push of a button. They doubt, even when they've
had the edifying experience of feeling the Force crushing
the life out of them. Doubt weakens and makes fools out
of such creatures." An unwavering hand raised and pointed
toward Xizor. "You're not such a fool, are you?"
Xizor bowed his head. "I do not doubt, my lord."
"That's why I'm still listening to you." The Em
peror's hand lowered and stroked the arm of the throne.
"My patience is such, however, that I listen to the
Imperial admirals as well, fools that they are. Even
fools say wise things, from time to time. And that is why
I gave permission for their great project, the
construction of what they called the Death Star-"
"You should have listened to me," said Vader. The
rush of his breath sounded louder and angrier. "The
Rebellion was growing even then, and the admirals wasted
your time on such folly. I told them that the Death Star,
when it was completed, would be a machine and nothing
more. Its power would be nothing compared to that which
you already possess." Vader's voice darkened in tone,
indicating the depths of his annihilating temper. "And I
was proved right, was I not, my lord?"
"Indeed you were, Vader." The Emperor gave a single
nod. "But even in the wretchedness of their folly, my
admirals were still right about one thing. Their little
minds are made of the same unenlightened stuff as are the
minds of most of the galaxy's inhabitants. They see
things the same way-and other things are invisible to
them. The Jedi Knights are no longer; they were the only
ones, other than ourselves, who could see the Force for
what it is. These lesser creatures are blind to that
which moves the stars in all the worlds' skies and the
blood in the veins of those below. They need something
they can see-that was what my admirals hoped to give them
with the Death Star. Its power-such as it was-lay within
the comprehension of all the
lesser creatures; it would
have evoked the fear and obedience that the subtleties of
the Force would take a great deal longer to achieve. You
were right that it was a machine and nothing more. But
still a useful machine. A tool. When all that is required
is a hammer, it is folly to turn the universe's primal
energy to such mundane purposes."
Darth Vader stood unmoved by the Emperor's words. "I
trust that you will remember one thing. A hammer can be
broken, as can any other tool. The Death Star was
destroyed. But the Force is eternal."
"I won't forget, Vader. But for now, all such simple
tools are the concern of my admirals. Let them occupy
themselves with building better ones, if they can. We
have already distracted ourselves from our purpose here."
The Emperor turned back toward Prince Xizor. "You say the
Empire is at risk. You tell me nothing new. I am aware of
the threat presented by the Rebel Alliance-a threat that
will be extinguished in due time. But the level of your
concern, Xizor, is what I find surprising. It sounds like
doubt to me, no matter what you say to the contrary. And
doubt should be eliminated at the source."
"Not doubt, but the truth." The edges of Xizor's own
intricately stitched robes trailed across his boots as he
folded his arms across his chest. "You cannot vanquish
the Alliance without creating new threats to your
authority. As your power increases and becomes closer to
absolute, so does an unavoidable hazard. A hazard that is
woven into the very fiber of the Empire."
"He speaks nonsense, my lord."
"Nonsense to those who cannot see." Xizor gazed from
the corner of his eye at the black-garbed figure standing
next to him. "Perhaps Lord Vader is blinded by the Force.
After all, his mastery of it is not equal to your own."
The invisible hand Xizor felt at his throat suddenly
tightened, as hard and constricting as an iron band. Even
Vader's mere image had the power to kill. Xizor's chin
was thrust backward, the vision in his eyes filled with
trapped blood.
"Leave him be, Vader." The Emperor's voice came from
somewhere beyond that darkening red cloud. "I'm intrigued
by what he has to say. I want to hear the rest. Before I
make my decision."
The hand let go, and breath flooded back into Xizor's
lungs. He had kept his arms folded throughout the brief