by neetha Napew
Nodding slowly and thoughtfully, Bossk mulled over the details of the plan." How am I going to convince him that I can do that? That I can stop you from catching him?"
" That's the simplest part of all." Boba Fett spread his gloved hands apart." You'll kill me."
" What?" Bossk stared at the bounty hunter sitting across from him." Is that some kind of a joke?"
" I don't tell jokes," said Boba Fett," even when I'm not working. That's the plan. You're going to take care of Trhin Voss'on't's number-one problem for him. You're going to eliminate me-or at least that's what he's going to believe. And that's when he'll relax; that's when his guard will go down. And then he's vulnerable. He'll be an easy pick-off, then."
Bossk drew back from the helmeted figure, as though in an instinctive reaction to have wandered too close to a gaping precipice. His spine pressed against the cold durasteel of the bulkhead behind him, as deep and ominous suspicions formed inside his mind. What does he know? The brain inside the Mandalorian armor's helmet, and all of its cunning, intricate workings, was as hidden from him as though it had been concealed on the other side of this barren planet. Yet at the same time, he could feel Boba Fett's gaze penetrating him, inspecting each of his secrets, one by one.
With a force of will, he shook off the feeling. You're being paranoid, Bossk told himself. There's no way that Boba Fett would have been able to determine what Bossk's own agenda was. He's an ordinary, mortal creature like yourself. Like turning the key in a hidden lock, Bossk reached down into the core of his being and let his innate Trandoshan anger emerge. His father, Cradossk, if he were still alive, would have been embarrassed to see his own spawn being intimidated by any other living thing, including the notorious Boba Fett. The slitted pupils of Bossk's eyes narrowed even farther as the hormones of his anger seeped through his veins, tightening the heavy muscles they surrounded. It didn't matter, decided Bossk, whether Boba Fett knew anything about his real plans, about his intentions after the matter of pulling in Trhin Voss'on't was taken care of. When that time came, he would have a few surprises for Boba Fett. The other bounty hunter might think he was smart, but this time, Bossk was sure that he had finally gotten ahead of him.
" So how do we start?" The surge of anger brought along an equal amount of impatience. Bossk was tired of talk; he wanted action." How are we going to prove all this stuff to Voss'on't?"
" First," said Boba Fett," we'll need some concrete proof that you're willing to kill your partners. Some kind of proof that Voss'on't will regard as impressive. You'll never be able to get into his confidences unless we have that."
Why anybody would doubt the murderousness of a Trandoshan was beyond Bossk. His species had conclusively demonstrated its violent tendencies all through the galaxy. And proud of it, he thought. Who wouldn't be?
" What did you have in mind? Unless" -one corner of Bossk's fang-lined mouth lifted in an ugly version of a smile-" you were planning on having me kill you right now." He nodded, as though pleased with the idea." That would probably work."
" I told you-I don't joke around." A laserlike glare seemed to emerge from behind the helmet's dark visor." I'd appreciate it if you took this seriously as well."
" Okay, okay; sorry." Bossk held out both his palms, as though fending off a blow." So what are we going to do?"
" We need proof-real hard proof-that you're serious about betraying your partners. So we need one more partner, just for the purpose of giving us that proof."
" Another partner?" Bossk scowled." I don't feel like cutting in anyone else on this deal."
" We won't be cutting anyone else in. That's already been taken care of." Boba Fett rose from the bench on which he'd been sitting." Come over here. I told you outside that I had something to show you. Something that you'd find interesting."
Bossk followed the other bounty hunter over to the storage lockers at the hold's other side. He watched silently as Boba Fett punched a key sequence into the pad beside one of the square locker doors. A red light flashed and the drawer slid open.
" Take a look at this." Boba Fett grasped the edge of a cloth sheet covering some large, uneven object." This is all the proof you'll need." He pulled the cloth aside, revealing what was underneath.
" What the-" Startled, Bossk gaped at the figure lying face upward in the drawer." Zuckuss!" The insect-like face, with its immense goggling eyes and intertwined breathing tubes, was as familiar to him as his own. Bossk looked over at Boba Fett." What happened to him?"
The sound of Zuckuss's name being spoken aloud hadn't caused the figure in the drawer to stir. The round, glassy eyes continued to stare upward at the hold's metal ceiling.
" Simple," said Fett." It's all part of the plan. We needed a dead bounty hunter, someone that you can tell Trhin Voss'on't was part of our team. So I provided one."
The unemotional coldness of Boba Fett's explanation amazed Bossk. It really is all business with this barve, he thought. No wonder he's on top of the bounty hunter trade." He's dead?" Bossk pointed to the unmoving figure." Really dead?"
" See for yourself."
Bossk leaned down closer to the unmoving object in the drawer. He didn't feel sorry for Zuckuss-pity was another emotion foreign to Trandoshans-but at the same time, there was an odd trace of regret in seeing him like this. There was no sense of friendship or other tender feelings wasted among bounty hunters, but Zuckuss had been part of the team on the Circumtore job. Things had gone badly enough then that Bossk had felt like killing Zuckuss. . . but he hadn't. And to realize that Boba Fett had done so, as a matter of cold and hyperrational business practice, part of his scheme for bringing in this renegade stormtrooper- that didn't sit right with Bossk. To kill in anger was one thing, even a fine and noble thing. But Boba Fett's way of doing it without emotion struck him as essentially. . . evil. That's it, realized Bossk. He had rarely, if ever, meditated so deeply on a moral issue. That's it, exactly. And now here he was, teaming up with Boba Fett. The implications of that were something he didn't want to think about, now or ever.
Automatically, to keep his thoughts safely submerged, Bossk went about verifying Zuckuss's death. Checking the body's neck, where the most visible blood vessels were located, he found no pulse; at the filtered openings of the breathing apparatus, where the exterior tubes looped toward the chest, no signs of respiration were detectable. The latter convinced Bossk more than anything else; one of the more irritating things about Zuckuss, when he'd been alive, had been the slight, constant noise that went with his inhaling and exhaling. Won't have to hear that anymore, thought Bossk.
" He's dead, all right." Bossk straightened up from his examination of the corpse." If what you wanted is evidence to show Voss'on't that bounty hunters are getting killed, then you sure got it." The only problem was that the cover story that went with the corpse had it that Bossk himself had killed Zuckuss. He preferred taking the credit only for his own violence. That raised another question in his mind." How am I supposed to have killed him? He looks in pretty good shape. I mean. . . considering everything. Usually if one of us Trandoshans knocks somebody off, they really show it."
" Tell Voss'on't you suffocated him." Boba Fett pointed down to the corpse's face." With those exterior breathing tubes, it's a relatively easy thing to do."
Bossk glanced over at Boba Fett. That must be, thought Bossk, how he did it. Just like that; cold and effective." And why did I do it? What's the line going to be on that?"
" Just as you said before-you didn't feel like splitting up the credits with any more partners than necessary. I've already started the story in circulation about Zuckuss teaming up with you and me; it's probably already reaching Voss'on't's ears by now. So when we track him down, and you talk to him, you can feed him the rest of the line."
" Which is?"
" That you don't feel like splitting the credits with me, either." Boba Fett punched the bulkhead-mounted control pad again, and the drawer slid back, taking Zuckuss's lifeless body with it." And that y
ou've figured out that you'll do better financially if you sell me out to Voss'on't rather than sticking with me as a partner. After all" -Fett turned back toward Bossk-" I'm not as famous for being trustworthy as I am for other things. Am I?"
It took Bossk a while to figure out whether or not Boba Fett was breaking his ban on joking around while doing business. If it was a joke, it made him as uneasy as seeing Zuckuss laid out dead. I'm in deep here, thought Bossk as he gazed into the dark visor of Boba Fett's helmet. He was beginning to wonder exactly how deep.
" No," said Bossk slowly." I guess you're not. . ."
" Then it's settled." Boba Fett punched a control sequence into the pad on the forearm sleeve of his Mandalorian battle armor. On the other side of the ship's hold, the hatchway irised open." We're partners." Outside, night had filled the dry marine trench of what had once been Gholondreine-B's planet-girdling ocean." And we have a plan. Don't we?"
" Right." Bossk's nod was just as slow." We sure do. . ."
All the way back to his own ship, the Hound's
Tooth, waiting at the other end of the trench, he could feel the yellow eyes of the centipedelike creatures in their bore holes, carved into the cliffs towering in darkness above him. Bossk knew it was only his imagination if he thought he could hear them laughing at him.
11
This is easy, thought Bossk. Almost too easy. . .
As if such a thing were possible. The Trandoshan bounty hunter felt a surge of gloating pleasure, welling up from the depths of his gut, as he sat at the rickety table, his claws wrapped around a chipped stoneware mug. Whatever gratification he felt hadn't come from the mug's contents, a sour inebriant that had briefly numbed the tongue behind his fangs when he had sipped it. This watering hole's drinks were both strong and disgusting.
" We could take him now," growled Bossk under his breath." Why don't we just go ahead and do it?"
He was alone at the table. The voice that answered his question sounded from deep inside his ear. Trandoshans, as a species, lacked external pinnae such as most humanoids had; beyond the small aperture of his ear canal, a cochlear micro-implant device had been precisely inserted with the point of a surgical needle. That piece of equipment had been just one of the preparations for this job.
" Not as simple as that," said Boba Fett's voice, both near-right inside Bossk's head-and distant. The other bounty hunter was currently located somewhere far from this ratty watering hole; Fett might
still be aboard Slave I, out past this backwater world's atmosphere, for all Bossk knew." Do you really think our target doesn't have some kind of defenses in place? He's not a complete fool, you know."
A snarl of glowering impatience settled on Bossk's face. He resisted the urge to scratch with his heavy claws at the implanted device itching inside his head, like some kind of burrowing parasite above the hinge of his jaw. He didn't want to do anything that might give him away, even though this dump was so poorly lit as to seem like some underground cavern. The slit pupils of Bossk's eyes were dilated as wide as possible, and there were still shadowy figures, hunched over their drinks at other wobbly tables, whose features his normally sharp eyesight couldn't make out at all.
Trhin Voss'on't, though, he'd been able to spot right off, as soon as he'd descended the worn stone steps into the watering hole. The renegade Imperial stormtrooper-ex-stormtrooper, Bossk reminded himself-was right where Boba Fett's information sources had said he'd be. Bossk had to admit that when it came to tracking down hard merchandise anywhere in the galaxy, Fett had a network of contacts second to none. It was no wonder that Boba Fett had always been able to get a jump on any of the members of the old Bounty Hunters Guild, for scooping up a prize bit of merchandise and delivering it before most of the others in the business had any idea of what was going on. And when Fett had put the word out to his virtual eyes and ears, stationed on every inhabited planet, that he was looking for this former stormtrooper, it hadn't been very many Standard Time Parts before the necessary info had come back to him.
" What's our target doing?"
" Drinking," growled Bossk." What else is there to do in a dive like this?" He was able to keep his muttered responses down low enough that the miniaturized throat mike could pick them up, yet not be overheard by any of the other patrons of the establishment. And Trandoshan faces were not so expressive that anyone glancing his way, in these shadows, would be able to detect the speech motions of his scaly muzzle. He would have preferred the auditory cover of a jizz-wailer band like Figrin D'an and the Modal Nodes, back at the Mos Eisley spaceport on Tatooine- that combo created such a racket, you could blow somebody away in one of the cantina booths with hardly anyone noticing. This world's hangouts were entirely too quiet for Bossk's tastes.
" I'd be drinking, too," said Bossk," if I could stomach their well hooch."
A burst of solar flare static rasped inside Bossk's head, like a swarm of Nimgorrhean saber-wasps, and loud enough that he couldn't stop himself from pressing the butt of his palm against his ear opening. That didn't do any good; Bossk winced and ground his fangs together until the noise from the implanted device faded away. It proved at least that Boba Fett and his Slave I ship were off-planet. This unattractive and remote world-Bossk had already forgotten its name-had an unstable sun, with emission bands wide enough to play havoc with all sorts of comm systems, even the expensive narrow-beam equipment that Boba Fett could afford to use. The two of them would have a hard time coordinating this operation if another flare broke the link between them at some crucial point.
" . . . stay low." Boba Fett's unnaturally calm voice faded back in." Try not to draw any attention to yourself."
" I'm already doing that," snarled Bossk. Those
were the same instructions that Boba Fett had given him when he'd told him of this new plan, before he'd stuffed himself into a one-way, single-passenger drop ship and had piloted away from Fett's Slave I. The drop ship was now out in the wastelands beyond the encircling slag heaps of what had once been an Imperial mining-and-refinery colony; the fact that the mines had been abandoned as worthless didn't surprise Bossk. As he had made his way on foot, past enormous, scavenger-ready drill units, gross tonnage excavators, up-ended conveyor lines, and surrounding slag heaps, then into the midst of the shabby plastoid buildings that had become by default the planet's only inhabited zone, it had struck him that even the dirt and rocks here were of an inferior quality." So when are we going to make our move?"
" Soon enough," replied Fett." There's still a few things that have to be checked out." The voice of the distant bounty hunter spoke with infuriating patience and logic." We can't allow ourselves any mistakes. We're only going to get one shot at this guy. If we spook him and he dives into whatever escape route he's got lined up-and he's sure to have one-we won't be able to track him down again. We'll have lost him."
That possibility made Bossk's blood run even colder than its normal homeostatic temperature level. He had everything riding on this job, on bringing in Trhin Voss'on't and delivering the renegade storm-trooper to Emperor Palpatine. Whatever would happen to Voss'on't at that point, it was no concern of Bossk's; he imagined it wouldn't be pretty. The Emperor wasn't known for looking kindly upon mere failure among his ranks; actual treachery was sure to merit treatment way beyond harshness. A shudder
moved across the scales of Bossk's shoulders and spine. As ruthless, and inured to ruthlessness, as all Trandoshans were, he had nevertheless made a personal vow-long ago, at the beginning of his career as a bounty hunter-never to cross the Emperor. That way, Bossk reminded himself, lies a serious amount of grief. Let those high-minded Rebels take the beating that was so surely coming to them.
And let me, thought Bossk, collect the bounty for this piece of hard merchandise. All his plans, for freezing out the True Guild faction and re-forming the old Bounty Hunters Guild, with himself at its head, depended upon raking in that mountain of credits that Palpatine had put up for Trhin Voss'on't's hide-and the return of the
codes that Voss'on't had absconded with. From long experience, and from looking inside his own reptilian heart, Bossk knew how bounty hunters' minds worked. That amount of credits could buy a lot of loyalty. There was no point in being a bounty hunter unless your nobler instincts were up for sale to the highest bidder.
Though, of course, there were high bidders. . . and then even higher bidders. Bossk took another sip of the acrid fluid in the mug before him, not even tasting the stuff as he mulled over his weighty concerns. Depends on just how many credits you have. He nodded slowly to himself. You can never have too many. Even with the enormous bounty on Trhin Voss'on't's head, there was no denying that a half share of those credits wasn't the same as getting all of it. From the beginning of this job, it had struck him as a shame that Boba Fett-who didn't have anywhere close to the need for the credits that Bossk did-was going to get such a hefty slice of the bounty. A real shame, thought Bossk. Especially considering that he was down here doing all the work and taking all the risks, within spitting distance of a dangerous ex-stormtrooper, while Boba Fett wasn't even on the planet's surface, but out beyond its atmosphere somewhere.
The contents of the mug had ignited a wet, smoldering fire in his gut; he ignored it. He had a lot to think about.
Bossk let those interwoven thoughts stew at the back of his mind, while he kept a surreptitious eye on Trhin Voss'on't. Whatever else could be said about Boba Fett, the man was right about one thing: the renegade stormtrooper must have some kind of defenses in place. It would be suicidal otherwise for Voss'on't to be sitting out here in the open like this. Bossk imagined he could feel the sloping, crudely plastered walls and the low, smoke-darkened ceiling of the watering hole pressing in on him, as though they were the disguised machinery of some Trandoshan-sized trap.
