by K. W. Jeter
taunted to madness by its captors. The optics of the
cannon's tracking systems pulsed red through the clouds
of hissing steam emitted from the apertures of the black
metal housing; as the reptilelike balancing tail thrashed
behind him D'harhan's arms spread wide, black-gloved
hands clawing into themselves, trembling with their
thwarted desire for destruction. A keening, wordless howl
sounded from deep within the machinery curving into the
creature's heart.
The visor of Boba Fett's helmet cleared as he looked
back down at the container trapped in the dais's
wreckage. Another tug, putting all of his weight and
force into it, and the metal tube finally scraped through
the debris, shedding flakes of rust. A dot of green light
beside the handle told Fett that the container's seal was
still intact, the object inside still as primed and ready
to go as it had been when first hidden here, during the
construction of the great reception hall.
With a last dragging rasp of metal against metal, the
tubular container came free. Boba Fett caught himself
from toppling backward, then cradled the heavy object in
his arms. As he turned he saw Zuckuss pulling himself
upright, a few meters away. The disorienting effects of
the explosion had obviously faded from inside the smaller
bounty hunter's head; Fett could see the enlightenment
behind the other's insectoid eyes, the sudden
understanding of all that Zuckuss had been told before.
Surrounded by the nois e and quick glare of laser bolts,
he even managed a slight nod of acknowledgment, to show
that he had just now realized what Boba Fett had meant
when he had told him those few fragments of the deal that
had been struck between a bounty hunter and an architect.
An investment, that pays off later. In a big way . . .
"Here!" That was Bossk's shout, from a few meters
away. Another mercenary, braver or stupider than the
rest, had come charging head down toward the Trandoshan,
and had actually gotten close enough that Bossk had taken
him out with a single blow to the chin, swinging the butt
of the blaster rifle around in an upward arc. Another jab
of the rifle butt, right between the mercenary's eyes,
had made sure he'd be no further trouble. "Get busy!"
Bossk had reached down and grabbed a blaster pistol from
the holster slung at the fallen mercenary's hip, and now
tossed it underhand to Zuckuss. "We could use a little
help!"
Zuckuss caught the blaster in both hands and
continued holding it that way as he pressed the trigger
stud, sending a wild spray of fire across the reception
hall as he rolled onto his shoulder, dodging the bolt
that dug a molten gash through the floor where he had
been kneeling.
The added fire gave Boba Fett enough cover that he
could turn with the durasteel tube in his arms and sprint
toward D'harhan, still howling in impotent rage at the
glaring blaster streaks that laced through the reddened
clouds of steam. Before he had taken more than a couple
of steps away from the dais wreckage, a pair of thin
mechanical arms wrapped themselves around Boba Fett's
neck, their crablike claws scrabbling at the visor of his
helmet.
Eyes starting from their fat-swaddled sockets, the
Shell Hutt Gheeta squealed in maddened rage; blood webbed
his broad face as the force of his encasing cylinder's
repulsors knocked Boba Fett off balance. Fett managed to
remain standing; for a split second he was lifted almost
clear of the red-spattered floor as Gheeta dragged him
upward by the neck. Then he twisted around in the Shell
Hutt's sharp-edged grasp and swung the length of the tube-
shaped container around into the side of Gheeta's skull.
The impact left a trenchlike dent in the gray, wobbling
flesh; Gheeta's eyes went unfocused as the crablike me
chanical hands flopped apart, dropping Boba Fett.
There wasn't time, as much as Fett might have wanted,
to finish off Gheeta. From the other side of the great
reception hall, beyond the erect, howling figure of
D'harhan, a volley of blaster fire singed past Fett. With
the container tucked under one arm, he grabbed the bolted
seams of Gheeta's floating cylinder, gloved fingertips
digging a hold on to the metal. Gheeta's dazed eyes
rolled as Boba Fett shoved the cylinder ahead of himself
as a shield. A frightened scream escaped from the Shell
Hutt's mouth as the mercenaries' laser bolts stung and
sparked against the cylinder's curved flank.
When he reached D'harhan, he shoved Gheeta aside;
with enough force to send him bobbing and twisting into
the cross fire that filled the center of the reception
hall. The immense form of D'harhan reared above Boba
Fett, the inert laser cannon shrouded by hissing steam,
the heavy arms crucified against the glare of the
mercenaries' rifle fire. Above the cannon's barrel, the
optics of D'harhan's tracking systems focused upon the
helmeted figure stepping within range of the tearing
hands.
Boba Fett halted; with one quick motion, he unscrewed
the end cap of the tube-shaped container. The seal
hissed, higher-pitched than the steam escaping from the
laser cannon's black metal housing, as air rushed into
the vacuum. Tilting the container, Fett slid out a fully
charged reactor core. He lifted one end of the core in
his hands as though he were aiming a rifle, then stepped
forward and thrust it into the gaping hole of the
receptor site in D'harhan's chest.
When they had been aboard the Slave I, D'harhan had
howled with the pain of an essence-deep violation as Boba
Fett had drawn out a core just like this one. Now a sharp
intake of breath sounded inside the throat hidden beneath
the laser cannon's barrel; D'harhan's back arched, his
segmented tail thrashing convulsively across the broken
rubble around him. Every neuron and sinew of D'harhan's
frame tensed and surged in sync with his accelerating
pulse as the bounty hunter's fist turned inside the
exposed chest, locking the reactor core into place.
The pulse of D'harhan's blood seemed to shatter the
barrier between flesh and machine as the indicator lights
along the laser cannon's housing flashed in a microsecond
from yellow to a fiery red. As Boba Fett slammed the
locking armature into its socket, then spun and dived for
the floor, the cannon barrel swung down from nearly
vertical to aiming level. The heat from D'harhan's first
shot scorched Fett's spine and shoulder blades as he used
the corpse of another dead mercenary to pull himself to a
safe distance.
He found the mercenary's blaster rifle and held it to
his chest as he rolled onto his back. Pushing himself up
with one hand, Fett saw another cannon bolt, a hundred
times wider and more d
estructive than the other shots
cutting across the great reception hall's space, enough
to rip a hole through the light armor of an Imperial
cruiser. And more than enough to reduce one entire wing
of the building to charred splinters. Through the rising
dust of fractured stone, Boba Fett could hear the screams
and shouts of the Shell Hutts and their hired thugs as
one pillar and then another toppled into the center of
the hall, bringing down a section of roof and exposing
the dark sky of Circumtore.
D'harhan turned where he stood, segmented metal tail
bracing himself against the recoil of the laser cannon
borne by his shoulders and torso. The cannon's barrel
rocked back in its housing as another white-hot bolt
coursed across the hall, scattering a knot of
mercenaries. The screams of the Shell Hutts actually
diminished, their panic having increased to the point
where all notion of escape had been abandoned.
Tortoiselike, each one drew his head back into the safety
of his floating cylinder; when the last throat wattle was
past the circular metal collar at the front of the
cylinder, a ring of crescent blades irised toward the
opening's center, sealing off the Shell Hutt inside. The
blind cylinders bobbed and collided with each other,
pushed and spun by the blaster fire striking their
riveted plates.
A few meters away from Boba Fett, a blaster shot went
straight toward the reception hall's ceiling; a quick
glance to the side showed him that a shot from one of the
mercenaries had struck Bossk at one side of his chest,
knocking the Trandoshan off his feet and sending him
splayed out on the dais's smoldering rubble. Fett
swiveled the rifle in his hands and blew away the
mercenary, a broken corpse even before he hit the floor.
Another one of the mercenaries had taken command of
the remaining dark-uniformed figures; Boba Fett could see
the man at the hall's perimeter, signaling to the others
and directing their fire. The aim of their blaster rifles
turned away from Fett, as well as IG-88 and Zuckuss. A
concentrated volley singed the air past the three bounty
hunters. Crouching down, Boba Fett turned and saw
D'harhan standing in the middle of the fusillade, like a
watchtower braced against the onslaught of a storm; the
blaster fire sowed hot sparks across the black metal, as
though each hit was a lightning strike seen through
illuminated clouds.
D'harhan managed to get off one more shot of his own
before he was cut down. The laser cannon roared, its
massive bolt ripping open another section of the flame-
scorched walls and scattering one wing of the
mercenaries. Metal could have stood up to their fire even
longer, but D'harhan's flesh was weaker than that; the
torso beneath the laser cannon's housing was now wrapped
in bloodied rags. His knees slowly gave way, and he
toppled forward. The cannon's barrel struck the floor as
though it had been one of the roof pillars giving way,
gouging out a meter-long trench.
He was still alive; Boba Fett could see the laboring
of D'harhan's heart and lungs, the rise of the blood-
smeared chest forcing itself against the curved mount of
the laser-cannon housing. The black-gloved hands rose and
tore feebly at the wounds, as though death were something
that could be plucked from the torn flesh and exposed
fragments of breastbone and rib.
The cannon was alive as well; the indicators along
the barrel showed an unblinking red, bright through the
hissing steam. All it needed was a hand on the triggering
mechanism, and the will to fire. ...
Boba Fett threw away the blaster rifle he had taken
from one of the dead mercenaries. Ducking beneath the
fiery bolts crisscrossing the reception hall, he stepped
behind the massive bulk of the fallen D'harhan; with his
own adrenaline-charged strength, he gripped the
semiconscious figure beneath the arms and half dragged,
half lifted him up against the base of a broken pillar. A
sudden gasp sounded from within the other's body as Fett
grabbed and yanked loose the thick neural-feed cables
that had been connected to D'harhan's spine, the hard-
spliced socket just between his shoulder blades. The
laser cannon's aiming systems automatically went into
manual override status; Boba Fett crouched behind the
black metal housing as the barrel swung upward.
And into firing position. A small screen tucked
underneath the rear of the housing lit up, with a
crosshair grid zeroing in on the mercenaries positioned
at the far side of the great reception hall. The barrel
turned slightly as Boba Fett's hand jabbed at the
controls, seeking a specific target; the grid's lines
narrowed in and locked on the one dark-uniformed figure
who had taken command of the others. Long-range thermal
sensors in the laser cannon's tracking systems gave a
clear outline of the mercenary behind a shield of bent
and torn plastoid construction material. Enough to hide
behind . . . but not enough to protect him. Fett hit the
cannon's firing stud. The weapon's recoil trembled the
black metal housing, its shock traveling all the way up
his arms and into his own chest.
The single bolt from the laser cannon took out most
of the remaining mercenaries. When Boba Fett raised his
head from behind the housing, he sighted through the
clouds of steam, hissing louder now to dissipate the heat
from the metal. The far side of the hall was gone now;
the violet-tinged light of Circum-tore's skies was framed
by twisted structural beams, their ends glowing molten.
Across the open plaza beyond the reception hall, the
bodies of the mercenary commander and the ones who had
died with him were scattered like broken toys. Inside the
hall, the few that were left alive had ceased firing,
pointing the muzzles of their weapons up toward the
ceiling; the brutal effectiveness of the laser cannon had
set them to reconsidering their ill-paid devotion to the
cause for which Gheeta had hired them. A couple of the
mercenaries-the smartest of them, Boba Fett figured-made
a show of tossing their blaster rifles onto the debris-
covered floor in front of them, then raising their hands
above their heads.
"Cowards! Traitors!" A hysterical cry came from
behind Boba Fett. With his hands still on the controls of
the laser cannon, he turned his head and saw the repulsor-
borne cylinder of the Shell Hutt Gheeta come darting
forward into the center of the reception hall's ruins. "I
paid you for results," shouted Gheeta, "not for you to
run away and hide!" The crablike mechanical arms shook in
impotent fury. "Get him! Now!" The floating cylinder
turned as Gheeta jabbed a claw in Boba Fett's direction.
"I order you
Ghee
ta's words broke off as he saw the laser cannon's
barrel swiveling toward him. His eyes widened in their
fat-heavy sockets as the indicator lights glowed an even
brighter red, as though they were points of blood
squeezed out by Boba Fett's hands tightening on the black
metal.
"No..." Gheeta moaned in sudden fright. The crablike
arms fluttered in front of him as the cylinder started to
back away. "Don't..." He pulled his head back inside the
cylinder's collar, which then began to iris shut.
But not fast enough. Boba Fett pushed forward on the
laser cannon's housing; steam hissed between his gloved
fingers as he lowered his shoulder and put his weight
into the thrust. Dragging the still-breathing body of
D'harhan along, the weapon's barrel lurched forward. The
black metal muzzle, shimmering with residual heat,
slammed into the vacated collar of Gheeta's floating
cylinder just as the curved blades of the seal mechanism
locked down tight upon it.
Boba Fett shifted his weight, now pushing down upon
the rear of the laser-cannon housing. The barrel angled
upward, with the Shell Hutt's cylinder attached like a
ripe gourdfruit. When the barrel had reached its maximum
elevation, Fett struck the firing stud with his fist.
All eyes in the great reception hall-those of the
other bounty hunters, the mercenaries left alive, even
the other Shell Hutts who were brave enough to unseal the
fronts of their cylinders when the fighting had
quieted-turned toward the tapered metal shape that for a
moment stood aloft on the black stem of the laser cannon.
A few of the observers flinched, but continued watching
as the weapon sounded its snarling roar, only slightly
muffled by the object clamped onto the barrel's muzzle.
The sound of the laser cannon's bolt echoed through
the great reception hall, then faded like the last
thunder of a storm broken by daylight. Lightning had
flashed, contained with the cylinder caught at the end of
the cannon's barrel; it had burst through the seams of
the bolted durasteel plates, sending a rain of white-hot
rivets arcing across the space and landing like sizzling
hail on the rubble left by the battle. When the light of
the laser-cannon bolt was gone, as quickly as it had
flashed into being, the plates of the Shell Hutt's
cylinder were singed around their edges; they rattled
dully against each other as the cylinder contracted