Maze of Deception

by Elizabeth Hand

  “Stop!” the Bimm said. “Wait—”

  The figure drew up beside them and halted, panting. It was a fur-covered Bothan, her pointy ears pressed back against her head in fear. “Nuri!” she exclaimed.

  Nuri stared up at her in concern. “What is it, Hev’sin?” he asked.

  “I have been searching for you!” She turned and looked at Boba. Her blaster was still pointed at him.

  “Who is he?” she asked Nuri in a low, accusing voice.

  Boba stared at his feet. Nuri glanced at him, then shook his head. “Only a boy,” he said to the Bothan quietly. “You will not need your weapon with him. Tell me, Hev’sin—what is wrong?”

  The Bothan hesitated. Then she slipped her blaster back into her belt. She stepped next to Nuri, and the two of them turned away slightly. It was obvious they were not worried about Boba overhearing them.

  After all, Boba thought, I’m only a boy. Not a serious threat.

  Or so you think.

  Boba knew about Bothans. They were the greatest spies in the galaxy. They left their homeworld, Bothawai, and traveled everywhere. And everywhere they went, they found work—at undercover jobs, as independent operatives, or part of the Bothan Spynet.

  And what was it Nuri had just said?

  The single most valuable thing is information.

  Boba pretended to stare at the alley nearby. But in fact he was listening to what the Bothan was saying.

  Boba was spying.

  Two can play this game, he thought. And maybe only one can win—but that one will be me.

  He could hear Hev’sin talking, in a low, urgent voice. “They say he has come here to raise currency for the Separatists. That is why he is down in the Undercity. He is pretending to make a standard visit to the Banking Clan offices on Level Four, but his real business is down here. He doesn’t want to draw the attention of members of the Republic.”

  “Are you sure of this, Hev’sin?” asked Nuri. He looked extremely interested, but not too alarmed.

  “Positive,” hissed the Bothan. “I saw him with my own eyes. He is surrounded by clone troopers—he never travels anywhere without a full guard now. Besides, I would know San Hill anywhere.”

  San Hill! Boba remembered—he had seen San Hill just a little while ago, up on Level Two—the man who was skinny and ugly as a stick insect. The Head of the InterGalactic Banking Clan.

  San Hill was a Separatist. Boba learned this when he was on Geonosis, and he had seen San Hill meeting with Count Dooku. Boba wondered if San Hill knew that Dooku was the same person as Tyranus—Tyranus, who had created the clone troopers that were now attacking San Hill’s allies!

  I’ll bet he doesn’t know, thought Boba.

  And then he had another thought.

  Maybe he’d like to know…for a price.

  Information was very valuable here on Aargau.

  “Where did you see him?” Nuri was asking Bothan.

  “Near the Hutts’ gambling palace. You can be certain San Hill is up to no good, if he is doing business with the Hutts.”

  Nuri nodded. “That is so.”

  Boba’s eyes widened. The Hutts! He knew who they were—one of the most notorious clans in the galaxy! They ran smuggling and gambling houses all through Hutt Space, and beyond. Now it seemed that they had some sort of operation here on Aargau. An illegal one, too, since it was in the Undercity.

  Boba’s father, Jango, had done business with Jabba, the Hutt clan’s ruler.

  “The Hutts value a good bounty hunter,” Jango had told his son. “They pay well, too—better than almost anyone.”

  For knowledge you must find Jabba, his father’s book had said. Could Jabba the Hutt be here on Aargau?

  Boba glanced over at Nuri and the Bothan, then quickly turned his head again.

  “I must go now.” The Bothan looked over her shoulder. She stared right past Boba. It was as though he was invisible to her. Another advantage of being young! “I knew you would want to know this, Nuri.”

  The Bimm nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

  He handed her a coin. The Bothan looked at it, disappointed. For a moment Boba thought she was going to argue—but then Boba remembered.

  Bimms were expert hagglers.

  And this Bothan didn’t have time to waste on haggling. She gave Nuri a farewell that was more of a snarl, then turned and walked quickly away.

  “Interesting,” Nuri said, more to himself than Boba. “Most interesting.”

  He looked up, and it was as though he saw Boba for the first time. A small smile crossed the Bimm’s face.

  “Well, my young visitor,” said Nuri. He gestured to the alley behind him. “Shall we go and get your money?”

  Boba said nothing. He didn’t move. Something about the Bimm seemed different. Maybe it was that smile. Maybe it was just that Boba was tired and hungry. He waited, and finally nodded.

  “Okay,” he said.

  He followed Nuri into the alley. It was dim, but not too dark. It curved slightly, though, so Boba couldn’t quite see what was ahead of him. A few more space pirates passed them, laughing loudly. Boba tried to stand as tall as he could when they walked by him. He’d give anything to be back on Slave I! He’d give anything to be off this planet, and on his own.…

  “Here we are,” said Nuri suddenly. He stopped in front of a metal door. There was a small window in the door, with bars in it. At the bottom was a narrow opening. Behind the barred window stood a very old, worn-out Admin droid.

  “Can I help you?” it asked in a grating voice.

  Nuri turned to Boba. “May I have your card, please?”

  Boba thought for a moment. If the Bimm had meant to rob him, he could have done it before now. After a moment he shrugged. He pulled the card from his pocket and handed it to Nuri. The Bimm would still need Boba’s DNA to get the credits.

  Or would he?

  “I’d like to have my fee deducted from this young man’s account,” said Nuri. He slid the card through the opening in the barred window. “Six hundred thousand mesarcs should do it.”

  The droid picked up the card. “As you wish,” it said. It swiped the card across a shining red screen.

  Boba watched the droid suspiciously. It hadn’t bothered to question Boba at all. It hadn’t even looked at him. And suddenly the words of the security attendant on Level One came back to him.

  You must also be sure not to exchange your money from anyone who is not a licensed member of the Banking Clan. There are black-market money changers on Aargau.

  This was an illegal banking machine.

  “Hey!” yelled Boba. “What are you doing? That’s my money!”

  He lunged for the banking machine, jamming his hand through the narrow opening, reaching for the card and hitting at buttons to stop the transaction. He managed to halt things—but it was already too late.

  “Five hundred thousand mesarcs have been taken from your account,” the droid said in its rusty voice. It dropped the card back into the opening. “Have a nice day.”

  Boba grabbed the card. He turned furiously to Nuri.

  “You!” Boba began to shout. But then he stopped.

  Nuri was morphing. His face went from yellow fur to silver to green. He grew taller, his arms grew longer, until he towered above Boba.

  He wasn’t a Bimm at all.

  “You’re a shapeshifter!” gasped Boba.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “You’re a clever young man,” the Clawdite shapeshifter said. It was a young shapeshifter, with a menacing, oozing voice. Its body seemed to melt and re-form before Boba’s eyes. Its body took on muscle, sinew, strength. Its head grew dark thick hair. Its eyes grew dark as well.

  “But not quite clever enough,” it said.

  Boba stared at it in amazement. “But—”

  “Consider yourself lucky, young sir,” said the shapeshifter that had been Nuri. “I could have taken your precious card and kept it all for myself. I could have killed you.”

  The
shapeshifter smiled—the same unpleasant smile Boba had last seen on the Bimm’s face.

  “But I admire your courage,” the Clawdite went on. “You’re young and learning, just like me. And I hate Aurra Sing. She is my rival. It seems you and I have that in common. I could have left you up on Level Two. She would have found you there, very soon. But finding you would have pleased Aurra Sing. I hate her far too much for that.”

  Boba stared furiously at the Clawdite. “You have no right to claim what’s mine!”

  The Clawdite laughed. “Well, you did take the card out before I could get everything. If you can somehow find your way back to the Upper Levels, you will find there is enough money left for you to buy a way to get off-planet. But only if you are clever enough, Boba. You will have to avoid being found by Aurra Sing. You will have to find a way to the Upper Levels. And then you will have to find your way to what’s left of your inheritance.”

  The Clawdite tilted his head. “I said that the Undercity is part of any bounty hunter’s education. I know it’s a big part of mine. I hope you have enjoyed your lesson, Boba.”

  And with a mocking bow, the Clawdite turned and hurried down the alley.

  Boba stared after him. How could I have been so careless? he thought angrily. I forgot the number one rule of bounty hunters—

  Trust no one.

  The Bimm—no, the Clawdite—had betrayed him. Still, the shapeshifter was right. Boba had learned an important lesson. Next time he wouldn’t be so quick to accept help.

  If there was a next time.

  But what to do now? Boba turned and looked at the droid behind its barred window. Hmmm. Nuri had been able to get money from Boba’s account. Why not Boba himself? He walked over to the window.

  “I’d like to get the rest of my money,” he said. He slipped the card through the opening.

  The droid looked at him with its unblinking eyes. It took the card and slid it into a slot in its arm. “Sorry,” it said. “You do not have permission to use this terminal.”

  It slipped the card back to Boba. Clearly, the Clawdite had known an access code that Boba couldn’t even guess at.

  “What?” Boba said angrily. “You mean—”

  “Sorry,” said the droid. “Shall I call security to assist you?”

  “No,” Boba said hastily. He began to walk away.

  Then he stopped. Before, when the Clawdite had given Boba’s card to the droid, the robot had said something—something about a bank.

  Boba still had the card. If he knew exactly where his money was, he could get it himself—without Aurra Sing!

  He went quickly back to the window. “What bank did you say that money was in?”

  The droid tilted its shining chromium head. “InterGalacticBank of Kuat. Level Two. Shall I call security to assist you?”

  “No!” Boba said quickly. “I mean, no thanks!”

  Nuri had been right—information was valuable!

  But he had no time to celebrate his good luck. Behind him came the sound of footsteps and more harsh laughter. Boba looked back and saw several tall, heavily armed figures. More pirates, no doubt.

  Time to get out of here! He turned and ran soundlessly down the alley.

  It ended on another street. This was one was even busier and more crowded than those he’d been on earlier, with Nuri. Boba stood for a minute, catching his breath. He felt no fear whatsoever. He felt anger, and excitement, and determination. He wasn’t too worried about Aurra Sing down here. What were the odds of her finding him in all this chaos?

  Still, where should he go?

  He looked up and down the street. As far as he could see in every direction, there were shops. Some were brightly lit and filled with bustling service droids and well-dressed humanoids and aliens. Others were dim, with only one or two grim figures standing guard by the entrance. Some were in buildings that were little more than piles of rubble. All seemed to be gambling dens of some sort. Many had signs that blinked or scrolled messages in brilliant green or gold or silver letters.

  ALL CURRENCIES CHANGED HERE

  ALL COIN ACCEPTED

  NO SUM TOO SMALL!

  Boba began to walk. Excited, noisy crowds spilled from doorways into the street around him. Robo-hacks—airborne taxis—hovered in front of gambling houses, waiting to take new customers away to spend the riches they had just won. Evil-looking figures lurked in alleyways, waiting to pounce on unsuspecting passersby. High above, the air was crisscrossed with glowing tubes. Shining capsules sped up and down between the Undercity and the Upper Levels. In between, swoop bikes and airspeeders flashed.

  That’s what I’m going to get! Boba thought as he watched a swoop bike whoosh by. Once he figured out how to get his money, maybe he could hire one to take him back to Slave I—although flying one himself would be better!

  “Pagh! Human scum! Out of my way!” a voice snarled.

  Boba looked up, startled. A figure blocked the street before him. It was tall, with orange eyes in a pale fungoid-looking face, and a long trunklike appendage wrapped around its throat. A Twi’lek.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” the Twi’lek repeated fiercely. Its hand moved threateningly beneath its robes.

  “Sorry,” Boba said hastily. He stepped aside. The Twi’lek gave him a sneering look, then pushed him aside and strode past him. Boba watched him go, thinking.

  “Wait a minute,” he said softly to himself.

  He had an idea!

  His father had told him once about a Twi’lek named Bib Fortuna. The grub-faced alien had served as Jabba the Hutt’s right hand, helping run his gambling operations on Tatooine and other places across the galaxy. Here on Aargau there was a Hutt gambling palace. Was there a chance that this Twi’lek was the one his father meant?

  Boba stared after the retreating figure. If it was Bib Fortuna, he might be heading toward the Hutt’s den.

  Boba knew the odds were against it—but then, everyone in the Undercity seemed willing to gamble. He’d take a chance.

  Boba began to hurry after the Twi’lek. He was careful to stay out of sight and to always keep him in his view. Sometimes this was hard, as the alien ducked in and out of narrow alleys and tunnels. Still, Boba followed him tirelessly through the maze that was the Undercity.

  Check this out, Boba thought with a grin. He was stalking his prey through incredibly dangerous terrain—just like a bounty hunter!

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The Twi’lek had reached the end of a long, narrow winding street. He halted in front of a large building with a rounded roof that had spikes on it. The building was shaped like the head of a gigantic krayt dragon. The dragon’s open mouth was the door. Inside, Boba could see a bustling throng of aliens, humans, and droids. Between the krayt dragon’s teeth, a shimmering holosign flashed green-and-gold Huttese letters.

  The Twi’lek walked up to the sign. Without hesitating, it went inside.

  Boba watched him go. His heart was beating hard now. He had seen a lot of people, a lot of aliens, and a lot of droids since he’d been in the Undercity. But there was one thing he hadn’t seen.

  He hadn’t seen a single kid. He hadn’t seen a single person his own age.

  The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself. Silence and stealth were a bounty hunter’s greatest weapons.

  But there was no way he could sneak through that krayt’s mouth and into the gambling palace unnoticed. A bunch of burly guards stood just inside the entrance—Gamorrean boars, by the look of them. Boba watched as the Twi’lek strode right past them. They bowed to him slightly, but otherwise paid him no notice. Yet when two Wookiees approached moments later, the Gamorrean guards frisked them before waving them inside.

  How could Boba get past them?

  Boba glanced behind him, down the winding street. He could see two more groups of people heading toward the Hutts’ gambling palace. If he remained where he was, he’d be seen. At best he’d be told to leave. At worst—

  He couldn’t
afford to think of that now. A few yards away, a pile of rubble loomed. Quickly, before the approaching groups could see him, Boba ran and ducked beside it.

  The first group grew nearer. Boba could see them clearly now: half a dozen small Jawa scavengers. All wore the Jawas’ distinctive hooded robes. All spoke to one another in the Jawas’ usual babble. As they passed, their eyes glowed from within their hoods like tiny torches.

  “Hey,” whispered Boba to himself.

  He had another idea—a good one.

  He turned and quickly began searching through the rubble. Bricks, broken glass, shreds of leather. A melted ruin that had once been a blaster. Broken spear-points. Exploded grenades. Something that looked alarmingly like a human hand.

  The Hutts’ gambling palace was a popular place. But it probably wasn’t a good idea to stick around it too long.

  Suddenly, Boba found what he was looking for. He bit his lip to keep from crying aloud in triumph. It was only a rag—a long, grayish-yellow piece of cloth, dirty and full of holes.

  But it was good enough for him. Boba glanced back to make sure no one had sighted him. The Jawas were just approaching the entrance now. One of them appeared to be talking to the Gammorean guards. Swiftly, Boba pulled the cloth over his head. It smelled bad—it stank, as a matter of fact—but he gritted his teeth and tried to arrange it properly.

  He pulled part of it over his face. He tugged it forward, till it covered his face like a hood. The cloth fell to just below his knees. He removed his belt from his tunic and tied it loosely around his waist. That was better. He was a little taller than the Jawas, so he bent his knees. It was hard to walk that way, but once he was inside, maybe no one would notice if he straightened up.

  He peered around the pile of rubble. Another group was nearing the gambling palace. They were too far away for him to see clearly, but they were tall, and vaguely humanoid.

  And there were a lot of them.

  I’d better get inside, fast.

  Boba looked down at the gambling palace. The Gammorean guards were nodding and waving the Jawas inside. Boba waited until the last Jawa had disappeared into the krayt dragon’s mouth. Then he took a deep breath, and began to hurry toward the entrance.