by K. W. Jeter
"That's true, I guess." Zuckuss's anxiety level now seemed genuinely lowered. "Except for Boba Fett. He always seems to win."
"Even Boba Fett." One of Cradossk's hands made a grand, all-encompassing gesture. "You wouldn't know it just by his reputation, but he and I go back a long way, and I can tell you that he's had his share of times when he's come up empty. Don't let that general aura of invincibility fool you."
"Well…it's hard not to be impressed. The things that are said about him…"
Cradossk leaned forward in the campaign chair and jabbed a claw into Zuckuss's chest. "I've been in the bounty-hunter trade a long time, boy, and I'm telling you now, you're every bit as tough a barve as the great Boba Fett."
"I am?"
"Sure you are." In a Gamorrean's eye, thought Cradossk to himself. He continued with the pitch. "I can tell. There are certain-shall we say?-ineffable characteristics of the born bounty hunter. Someone with the appetite and the skills for succeeding in this trade. I can smell 'em. That's why I'm the head of the Bounty Hunters Guild, just because of my being such a keen judge of character." He tapped the side of his snout with one claw. "And my instincts tell me that those are exactly the skills you have."
"Well." Zuckuss slowly shook his head in amazement.
"I'm…flattered."
It's too easy, thought Cradossk. Telling creatures what they wanted to hear, down in however many hearts they carried around inside themselves, was the quickest and surest way to get them ready for sticking the knife in. Their defenses went down like so many security shields with surge-blown power fuses.
"Don't be." He had this Zuckuss exactly where he wanted him; time to spring the rest of the trap. "The truth in this matter is important to both of us. Because there's something I need you to do for me. Something important."
"Anything," Zuckuss said quickly. He spread his gloved hands apart. "I'd be honored-"
"That's fine." With his own upraised hand, Cradossk cut off the young bounty hunter. "I understand. Loyalty is another one of those characteristics, so important in our trade, that I discern in you." He tilted his head to one side, displaying an uneven, insinuating smile. "But we have to choose our loyalties, don't we?"
"I'm not sure I know what you mean …."
"You've worked with my son Bossk on a couple of jobs. So you're loyal to him, aren't you?"
There was no hesitation before Zuckuss spoke. "Of course. Absolutely."
"Well, get over it." The partial smile disappeared as Cradossk slouched back in the campaign chair. "Your loyalty is to me. And that's for a very simple reason. There's some rough times coming around here-as a matter of fact, they've already started. Some creatures aren't going to come out the other end of those times; there'll still be a Bounty Hunters Guild, but it's going to be a lot smaller. You want to be one of those that survive the shakeout, because the alternative is death." He peered closer at Zuckuss, seeing himself reflected and magnified in the other's eyes. "Am I making myself clear?" Zuckuss gave a rapid nod. "Perfectly clear."
"Good," said Cradossk. "I like you-that's why I'm making you this kind of offer." In truth, it was a Trandoshan characteristic to despise all other lifeforms, and he wasn't making any exception in this case.
"You stick with me, and there's a good chance you'll make it. I'm not just talking about survival, but really getting somewhere in this organization. Loyalty-to the right creatures, that is-has its rewards."
"What…what is it you want me to do?"
"First off, keep your vocal apparatus muted, concerning what we're talking about right now. The first part of loyalty is being able to keep a secret. Any bounty hunter who can't keep his mouth shut isn't long for this galaxy, at least not in any organization that I'm running."
Another fast nod. "I can keep quiet."
"I figured as much." Cradossk let his smile reappear.
"We're all scoundrels here, but some of us are better scoundrels than others." He leaned farther forward this time, close enough that the breath from his flared nostrils formed momentary clouds on Zuckuss's eyes.
"Here's the deal. You've heard about the Oph Nar Dinnid job?"
"Of course. Everybody in the Guild is talking about it."
"Including my son Bossk, I take it?" Zuckuss nodded. "He's the one I heard it from."
"I knew he'd jump on it." Cradossk got some satisfaction from that; his spawn was at least ambitious, if not overly smart. "He likes the big jobs, with the big payoffs. This Dinnid job is just the kind of thing to get him salivating. Did he say anything about putting together a team to go for it?"
"Not to me."
"He will," said Cradossk. "I'll see to that per sonally. My son may show some initial reluctance to having you on the team, but I'll make it worth his while to take you along. There's some equipment to which I can provide access, some inside information sources I'm sure he'd find valuable-that sort of thing. More than enough to make up for whatever share he and the others would have to cut you in on for being part of the operation."
"That's very…kind of you." Suspicion was discernible behind the curved lenses of Zuckuss's eyes.
"But why would you do something like that?" There was hope for this creature yet; he wasn't a complete idiot. "It's very simple," said Cradossk qui etly. "I do something for you"-he tapped his claw against the top of the other's face mask-"and you ... do something ... for me." With the last word, the point of Cradossk's claw tapped against his own chest. "Now, that's not too hard to understand, is it?" Zuckuss nodded slowly, as though the claw in front of his face had hypnotized him. "What is it…that you want me to do?"
"Now, that's simple as well." Cradossk rested both his hands on the bony arms of the campaign chair. "You're going to go out with the team that my son Bossk is putting together to snag this particular piece of merchandise named Oph Nar Dinnid. The difference between you and Bossk, however, is that you'll be coming back." It took a few seconds, but illumination finally struck Zuckuss. "Oh…" The nod was even slower this time. "I see …."
"I'm glad you do." Cradossk gestured toward the door.
"We'll talk some more. Later."
When Zuckuss had scurried out of the chamber, Cradossk allowed himself a few moments of self-satisfied musing. There was lots more to do, strings to pull, words to be whispered in the appropriate ears. But for now, he had to admit to himself that he actually did like this Zuckuss creature. To a degree, thought Cradossk. Just smart enough to be useful, but not smart enough to realize how he was being used-at least, until it was too late. He might even feel some regret when it came time to eliminate Zuckuss as well.
But such, Cradossk knew, were the burdens of leadership.
It had taken some doing, plus prying and digging with various tools improvised from stiff, sharp-pointed pieces of wire. But those were the sorts of skills that Twi'lek males were born with. The result, after nearly a year of surreptitious work on the part of the majordomo, was a tiny, undetectable listening hole, up near the ceiling of the anteroom to Cradossk's private chamber. Better than any electronic snooping device; those could always be de tected with a basic security scan-sweep. The majordomo, even as he was listening to the conversation between Cradossk and the young bounty hunter Zuckuss, congratulated himself on his cleverness. One had to be clever to survive working for carnivores like these. Using a combination of toeholds between the wall's massive stones and an ornamental wall hanging depicting the Guild's past glories, Ob Fortuna clambered down from his eavesdropping post. He had heard Cradossk dismissing Zuckuss, their secretive discussion over for the time being. Past experience enabled the majordomo to calculate precisely how long it would take for someone to turn from in front of the bench in which the Guild leader always sat, and walk the few meters to the chamber door. It was just long enough for the majordomo to get back down and brush the dust and cobweb fragments from himself, as though he had been standing there all along, waiting like a good and faithful-and non-conspiratorial-servant.
"I trust y
our talk was pleasant?" The majordomo escorted Zuckuss to the next door, leading out of the anteroom to the corridors of the Bounty Hunters Guild headquarters. "And that you found inspiration in it?" Zuckuss seeme d distracted; it took a moment for him to respond. "Yes…" He gave a nod as he walked. "Very…inspiring. That's the word, all right." Idiot, thought the majordomo. He had heard every syllable that-had passed between this creature and Cradossk. Whether Cradossk was aware of it or not, there were no secrets around here. Not as far as I'm concerned.
"Excellent." The majordomo smiled, showing all of his own sharp-pointed teeth. He held open the anteroom door, using his other hand to keep his head tail from falling across his shoulder as he gave a precisely calculated bow. "I trust we will have the pleasure of your company again."
"What?" Standing in the corridor, Zuckuss gazed at him as though puzzled by those simple words. "Oh…yes, of course. I imagine you will." He turned and walked away, like one weighted by a new and unforeseen responsibility.
The majordomo watched him go. He was more familiar with the various shades of meaning attached to Cradossk's utterances. Nothing was ever as it seemed on the surface. The poor bounty hunter didn't have a clue as to what kind of lethal mess he was getting into.
But Ob Fortuna did. He glanced behind him, across the length of the anteroom, to make sure that the door to Cradossk's chambers was still closed. Then he hurried down toward the opposite end of the corridor, to where the others who would be interested in this conversation would be waiting. With his hands tucked inside the folds of his long-skirted robes, he was already calculating the profits that would come from another piece of information bro-kering.
15
"What are we waiting for?" Bossk gnashed his fangs in impatient fury. "We should have been on our way by now!"
"Patience," counseled Boba Fett. "In this case, it is not so much a virtue as a necessity. That is, if you want to pull off this job and live to tell about it." He watched the Trandoshan resume cursing and muttering under his breath, pacing back and forth in one of the landing docks farthest from the Bounty Hunters Guild complex. It struck Fett that he wouldn't have to do anything at all in order to ensure Bossk's destruction; eventually, the reptilian would explode from the rage bottled up inside him. Or at the least, he thought, that much anger will cause a fatal mistake somewhere along the line. Boba Fett's own survival was predicated on both violence and the cold, emotionless precision of his strategies and actions. Without the former, all the plan ning and scheming in the galaxy would be impotent; that was something that the Empire, from Darth Va-der's underlings all the way up to Palpatine himself, understood completely. What a creature like Bossk didn't comprehend was that violence, however necessary, was a bomb nestled against one's own heart, in the absence of meticulous calculation. He'll find out, thought Fett. Soon enough.
The smaller bounty hunter, Zuckuss, glanced nervously from Boba Fett over to Bossk, then back again. "Maybe," he said, "an advance party could head out toward the Shell Hutts. Do some reconnaissance so that when the rest of our team shows up there, we'll be ready to go right in."
"Don't be stupid." Boba Fett shook his head. "The only thing that would accomplish would be to warn the Shell Hutts of our intentions. It's going to be hard enough keeping any element of surprise, without sending them a message like that."
"But the ships are ready to go!" Bossk whirled about on the clawed heel of his foot. "If we wait any longer, the other Guild members will put together teams for taking on this Dinnid job. They'll beat us to it!" Boba Fett didn't look up from the data readout in his hands; he continued checking the Slave I's armaments list. "It would be no great tragedy if anyone did that. Since they would have no chance off success, our merchandise would still be safely in the hands of the Shell Hutts, waiting for us. And it might actually facilitate our own plans, once we put them into motion. The Shell Hutts would see the difference between us and some crude pack trying to blast their way into the stronghold."
"You keep telling us about these great plans you've made." Bossk aimed a venomous stare at Fett. "When are you going to let us know exactly what they are?"
"As I said before." Unflinchingly, Boba Fett returned the other's hard gaze. "You need to cultivate patience." Bossk turned away again, his grumbling even louder than before.
The other team member was there with them in the landing dock. IG-88, a droid that had managed to become one of the Bounty Hunters Guild's more respected members-in fact, one of the few that Boba Fett would even consider to be a serious rival-brought his optical scanners around in Fett's direction. "There is patience," said IG-88 in a harshly synthesized voice, "and then there is hesitation. The latter comes from fear and indecision. We decided upon you as the leader of this team's operations because we assumed that such were not your qualities. Our disappointment would be great if we found out otherwise."
"If you think you can pull off this job without me"-Fett lowered the data readout in his hands-"then go ahead."
IG-88 regarded him for a moment longer, then gave a single nod of its head. "You remain our leader. But I warn you Don't exhaust what patience we do have."
"Mine's already gone." Bossk had obviously continued stewing; the look in his slitted eyes had gone from murderous to annihilating. One hand hovered dangerously close to the blaster slung at his hip. "I've changed my mind. This whole team notion was a stupid idea-"
"Um, Bossk…" Zuckuss raised his voice. "It was your idea."
"If I started it, then I can put an end to it as well." His gaze slowly moved across the three other bounty hunters. "You lot can do whatever you want. But I'm out of this. I'm going out after Oph Nar Dinnid by myself."
"I'm afraid you don't have that option." Boba Fett tucked the readout inside one of his armor's storage pouches. His voice seemed even more level and emotionless, compared with Bossk's boiling anger. "You know too much about this operation for you to be on the outside of it. When you come in with me on a job, you stay until it's over. There's really only one way for you to quit."
"Yeah?" Bossk sneered. "What's that?" IG-88 remained standing as before, his equally cold droid emotions-or the lack of them-observing the confrontation. Zuckuss drew back, ready to duck behind the fuselage of one of the ships in the landing dock as Boba Fett dropped his hand to the curved grip of his own blaster.
"Go ahead," said Boba Fett, "and try walking out on us. And you'll find out."
The atmosphere tensed, as though filling with subphotonic discharge from a battle cruiser's venting ports. In the taut silence, Boba Fett gave a silent com mand to the heavily armed figure standing in front of him. Go ahead, he thought. It'll save us all a lot of time ….
"There's someone coming!" Zuckuss's voice broke through the adrenaline-frozen moment. He pointed to the distant high arch that formed the entrance to the landing dock; beyond it, a streak of fiery light cut a crescent past the stars. "Another ship-"
Bossk held his gaze tight on Boba Fett's for a moment longer, then glanced over his shoulder. The approaching light had grown brighter, its docking jets flaring into a sudden corona. He looked back at Fett. "Is this who we've been waiting for?"
"It could be." Boba Fett didn't take his hand from the grip of his blaster.
"Lucky for you."
"That's right," said Fett. "If I had killed you, I would have needed to find another person for the team." His hand moved away from the smallest of his weapons. "I find personnel changes to be aggravating." Zuckuss peered past them at the approaching ship. "I don't recognize this one." It was close enough that its outlines could be seen a featureless ovoid, barely larger than a TIE fighter, trailing a metallic seine, a stiffly interlinked net, behind its flaring engines. "How did it get clearance-"
"I arranged for that." Boba Fett stepped past Zuckuss and the others, walking toward the pad that the approaching craft had locked upon. "But it wouldn't have made any difference if I had or not."
"What do you mean?" Zuckuss scurried after Fett.
&n
bsp; "Believe me-this barve goes where he wants to." The ovoid could be seen more clearly now as it slid into the landing dock, thrust engines shut down and repulsors on. Its rounded surfaces were pitted and scored with the impact marks of high-intensity armaments, including one large scorch mark where the metal had actually melted and fused back together. As it hovered above the pad its trailing mesh shifted and drew forward, one part curling above like a scorpion's tail, the other forming a reticulated cradle beneath, onto which the craft slowly sank and was still.
"Look at this thing." Fascinated, Zuckuss had walked right up to the ovoid, his boots stepping onto the mesh. He laid a gloved hand on the battered and corrosionmarked surface. "It looks like it's been in every battle since the Clone Wars-"
"Watch out," said Boba Fett. But the warning was already too late.
A microscopic hairline fissure around the top of the ovoid widened, with a hiss of inrush ing air. An elliptical section separated from the rest, tilting up ward on previously hidden internal hinges. For a moment nothing further showed from inside the craft. ... As though released by a high-compression spring, the barrel of a close-range laser cannon rose up, with its power sources and recoil housing mounted directly behind. The gleaming surfaces of black metal shone like the coils of an aroused serpent, intricate and deadly. A faint, shrill electronic whir sounded as the massive weapon's range-sighting devices locked onto Zuckuss, swinging the point of the muzzle down within a meter of the bounty hunter's chest. Another series of sharp, concussive noises sounded within the machinery as the indicator lights' glow shifted from yellow to a hot red, charged and ready to fire. That was followed by silence; Zuckuss froze where he stood, as though hypnotized by the black hole almost within touching distance of his hand, and its lethal potential even closer than that. There would be only a haze of disconnected atoms floating above the scorched remains of his boots after one shot from the weapon.
"Back up," said Boba Fett quietly. "Do it slow, and you probably won't get hurt."
