Hard Merchandise

by K. W. Jeter

  "I wish we had been able to do that." Dengar shook his head, too. "I could have done without that last encounter."

  "Alas," said Balancesheet, "while my journey through the late assembler's memories might have been more pleasant than yours, it was to little more avail. There were many mysteries, various matters of unfinished busi­ ness, that it would have been most advantageous for me to have cleared up—including the arrangements that Kud'ar Mub'at had made with Nil Posondum and Ree Duptom. Anyone who was behind both the fabricating of evidence against Prince Xizor and this mysterious ab­ duction of an unidentified but seemingly important hu­man female—that unknown party was obviously after something big in his plans. And as we both know, Boba Fett, those kinds of schemes can often have a great deal of credits tied up with them. Sometimes to carry them out... and sometimes to keep silent about them."

  Boba Fett's shielded gaze held the small assembler without moving. "And which one of those are you inter­ ested in, Balancesheet?"

  "I don't really have a choice—since, as I said, I did not find the answers to those questions in what I could re­ cover of Kud'ar Mub'at's personal memories. If I'm to get any share of profits out of this situation, I have to join forces with you, and assist you with your quest for those answers."

  "Opening fire on us with your laser cannons didn't seem like much assistance."

  "Oh, that." Balancesheet made a dismissive gesture with one upraised claw tip. I told you before. I didn't know that it was you, putting the web back together and—I had to assume—reviving the dead Kud'ar Mub'at inside it. You have to consider my position, after all. I have taken over my predecessor's business; I've estab­ lished myself with a select list of clients that had previ­ ously been associated with Kud'ar Mub'at. At the same time, I was aware that Kud'ar Mub'at could be at least partially restored to life. Quite frankly, I don't need the competition from it, especially considering the hostility I could expect him to bear toward me. And of course, many of my clients might consider it advantageous to have the two of us operating simultaneously, so that we would be forced to undercut each other's prices. No—" Balancesheet shook his head emphatically. "I really couldn't allow anyone to set about bringing old Kud'ar Mub'at back from the dead. It had been mere sentimen­ tality on my part, and perhaps a notion of generating a profit from them in the future, not to have already de­ stroyed its carcass and the remainders of his web. I've al­ ready made a mental note to finish that process once our little conference is finished."

  "All right," said Boba Fett. "I'm going to give you a break this time. Basically, because I need to do some business with you. But if you try firing a laser cannon at me again, you're going to find yourself looking down the barrel of one. And there won't be any pieces for some­ body else to glue back together."

  "I'll keep that in mind." The small assembler spread both of its raised forelimbs apart. "Now let's get down to that business you were talking about. You want to find out who it was at the beginning of the chain that led through Nil Posondum and Kud'ar Mub'at to Ree Dup­ tom; you want to know who it was that thought it so im­ portant to plant fabricated evidence against Prince Xizor, and do the kidnap and memory-wipe job on Neelah here. That seems reasonable enough. So, for a piece of the ac­ tion, I'm willing to help you out on that quest."

  "How?" Neelah broke into the exchange between the assembler and the bounty hunter. After all, she had told herself, it's me they're talking about. "You already said you hadn't found out any more than we did!"

  "Calm yourself," said Balancesheet. "It's true: you didn't find anything here, and neither did I. But all of you have made a faulty assumption from that fact. You sim­ ply believe there's nowhere else to look, and that's not the case."

  "So where else is there?" Boba Fett's voice sounded

  neither impressed nor amused. "Everybody in the chain leading to Neelah is dead now."

  "Yes, but certain evidence they left behind still ex­ ists." One of Balancesheet's tiny claw tips pointed straight toward Boba Fett. "You've stated that you found the fabricated evidence against Prince Xizor inside a cargo droid that had been transformed to a spy device. Where is that droid now?"

  "That's your idea of a lead?" Boba Fett shook his head in disgust. "That droid—if it still exists at all—is completely unavailable to us. Once I pulled the data records out of the droid's memory unit and stored them on my ship's computer, I didn't do anything more with the droid itself. When I took over Bossk's ship Hound's Tooth, the one that brought us here, I transferred that in­formation over to its computer. But the original cargo droid was still left aboard Slave I—and that ship is in the hands of the Rebel Alliance now. A Rebel patrol found and confiscated it, where I had abandoned it in orbit above Tatooine." Fett recited the events in his customary emotionless tone, though Neelah knew how great the at­tachment was between him and his own ship. "Whatever contacts I've still got inside the Alliance, they're preoccu­pied right now with other things, like what's shaping up to happen out near Endor. They're not likely to go root­ing around through their storage units for some anti­quated cargo droid found onboard an empty ship. Why should they? They wouldn't know that it might have any value, except as scrap."

  "So you have a record of the fabricated evidence against Prince Xizor—an incomplete copy, as it were—but not the fabricated evidence itself. That is a pity." Balance- sheet smiled. "Because if you had the actual evidence, the original that was inside the modified cargo droid, then you might be able to examine and analyze it further, for clues that you didn't have time to find before."

  "As I said," growled Boba Fett. "The cargo droid is gone. Lost. It might as well not exist, for all the good it does us."

  "Perhaps so. But that doesn't mean that the original of the fabricated evidence, from which you took the information you possess, is lost." The jagged smile on the assembler's triangular face grew wider. "In fact, I know where it is. And it's not in the hands of the Rebel Alliance."

  For the first time, Neelah saw something take Boba Fett by surprise. The bounty hunter stepped back as if from a blow, then he peered closer and harder at Balancesheet.

  "What're you talking about? It has to be still inside the droid. That's where I left it."

  "Let me tell you something more," said the smiling as­ sembler. "You and your associates here are not the only ones who are interested in it. Some very powerful forces are searching for that same fabricated evidence."

  "Who?" Boba Fett's hand shot toward the smaller creature, as though he were about to seize Balancesheet within his fist. "Who else is looking for it?"

  "While you've been making your way here, I've been in contact with my own information sources; that's what I do. I hear all sorts of interesting and potentially prof­itable things. Only this time, I was approached directly by the other party involved; a representative from one of the most powerful men in the galaxy searched me out, to inquire whether I knew the whereabouts of that fab­ ricated evidence against the late Prince Xizor, the same evidence that you found aboard Ree Duptom's ship Venesectrix."

  "It must have been somebody from Black Sun, then. From whoever took over that organization after Xizor's death—"

  "Not at all." Balancesheet gave a slow shake of his head. "From what I've been able to find out, neither Xi­zor nor Black Sun ever knew anything about whatever plot had been cooked up with this fabricated evidence. Besides, even if somebody in Black Sun found out about it now, why would they care? Prince Xizor is dead. Tying him to an Imperial stormtrooper raid on the planet Ta­ tooine doesn't mean anything now."

  "Then who—"

  "Oh, but it gets even more interesting." On the metal ledge, Balancesheet seemed to vibrate with the pleasure of telling so many secrets. "The person who sent their representative here, looking for information about the fabricated evidence's whereabouts, seems to bear a con­ siderable hostility toward you, Boba Fett. Or else he sim­ply doesn't want to risk the possibility of you finding that fabricated evidence before he does. Be
cause he's the one who ordered the bombing raid on the Dune Sea, back on Tatooine. The bombing raid in which you yourself came very close to being blown to atoms. You managed to escape—obviously—but I wouldn't say that this very powerful individual has ceased wishing you were dead. And he'd be happy to make that come about, given the op­ portunity." Balancesheet, multiple eyes glittering, leaned forward from its perch. "So you should appreciate the fact that I'm betting a lot on our doing business together, Fett. Because I could sell the information about your whereabouts to that other party, for a handsome pile of credits indeed."

  "That'd be more efficient, at least," Dengar spoke up. "If all Balancesheet wanted was to eliminate us, it'd be easier to do it that way rather than firing off its own laser cannons." He shrugged. "Maybe the little guy's got a point."

  "Maybe." Boba Fett appeared to mull it over for a second. "It all depends upon who this other person is, who not only tried to kill all of us, but is also looking for the same thing we are."

  "Fine," said Balancesheet. "I'll tell you, and then you can make your own determination about what to do. The person in question is Kuat of Kuat, the head of Kuat Drive Yards."

  Neelah was unable to stifle a gasp of surprise. I know him —the thought jumped unbidden into her mind, com­ plete with an image of the powerful Kuat. That faded away as quickly as it came; she blinked and saw Boba

  Fett glancing in her direction. He said nothing, but turned back toward the assembler on the metal ledge.

  "How do you know it was Kuat of Kuat who did all that?" Boba Fett's voice was tinged with suspicion. "Why would the head of one of the largest engineering firms in the galaxy be interested in fabricated evidence against the late Prince Xizor? And why would he want me dead?"

  "Questions, questions, questions." Balancesheet shook its head in mock despair. "They wouldn't be necessary if you trusted me more."

  "I haven't stayed alive as long as I have in this busi­ ness by trusting other creatures. So just answer them."

  "Very well; I know it was Kuat of Kuat who ordered the bombing raid on the Dune Sea, because his represen­ tative told me so, on his instructions. Kuat wanted me to be assured of his desire to have you dead, so that I would be confident of getting paid in case I came across any news of your whereabouts. And as to why he'd want you dead, and why he'd be interested in this fabricated evi­ dence against the late Prince Xizor—" Balancesheet spread his raised claw tips apart. "Of that, I have not the slightest notion. But it does confirm in my mind that if we had what he was looking for, and given the vast wealth of Kuat Drive Yards at his disposal, we'd be able to force him to pay a substantial sum for it. And let's face it: you and I have considerable experience at bargaining for that kind of thing."

  "Then the only problem," said Dengar, "is getting our hands on what he wants."

  And what I want, thought Neelah to herself.

  "How fortunate then that the fabricated evidence isn't with the Rebel Alliance, but someplace where it can be gotten at instead." Balancesheet's jagged smile almost seemed to split its triangular face in half. "And also, that your new business associate—myself—knows where it is." The assembler looked back over toward Boba Fett. "We are in business together, aren't we?"

  "All right," answered Boba Fett. "We'll work out the split later. After we get hold of the fabricated evidence and figure out the best way to cash in on it."

  Balancesheet laughed, a sound like tiny, mistuned bells.

  "What's so amusing?"

  "It's so paradoxical." One of the claw tips wiped at the largest of the multiple eyes, in another parody of hu­manoid emotional gestures. "You've come all this way, looking for the answers you want, and the only means of getting those answers now is to find this phony evidence against the dead Xizor—and it's back on Tatooine!"

  Neelah and both bounty hunters were stunned into si­ lence for a moment. She found her voice first. "Tatooine? How ... how did it get there?"

  "Simple." Balancesheet wrapped its forelimbs around itself, the better to contain its growing mirth. "It's been there for quite a while now. You see, when our associate Boba Fett here"—the assembler gestured toward the hel­meted bounty hunter—"managed, through his impressive personal skills, to chase Bossk off Slave I, the fabricated evidence went with him, inside the emergency escape pod he used to get away."

  "And how do you know this?" Boba Fett regarded the assembler with skepticism.

  "My friend, you've been out of the loop, this whole time that you've been making the journey to this remote sector. If you were in contact with your own information sources, the way I am with mine, you might have heard an interesting piece of news that's been circulating through some of the seedier watering holes and meeting places of the galaxy. It seems that your fellow bounty hunter is holed up in the Mos Eisley spaceport back on Tatooine, and he has a certain ... item to sell. And he's looking for the right buyer for it. The item is rather unique, as I'm sure you'll appreciate; it's the fabricated evidence against the late Prince Xizor that supposedly linked him to the Imperial stormtrooper raid on a certain moisture farm on that planet. Of course, Bossk's attempts to unload these goods are complicated by the fact that he doesn't

  know the phony evidence's significance, its real value, or that Kuat of Kuat is in fact trying to locate it. If Bossk knew that, he could sell it in a heartbeat, for a very good price. But alas ... he doesn't know." The assembler's voice filled with a mocking sympathy for the absent bounty hunter. "That's what happens when you try to do things yourself, for which you should have contacted an expert like me."

  "Advertise on your own time," said Boba Fett irrita­ bly. "So Bossk has got it..." He nodded slowly, mulling over the information. "He must have found the cargo droid when he was aboard Slave I, before I called it down to the Dune Sea to pick us up. And he discovered the fabricated evidence about Xizor inside the droid and removed it, without knowing its significance but hoping that he'd be able to find some way of cashing in on it. I didn't have time to check the storage areas inside Slave I before abandoning it. So it seems I finally underestimated Bossk; I wouldn't have thought he had the native intelli­gence to have discerned any value in that cargo droid's contents."

  "And then he must have shoved it inside the emer­ gency escape pod." Dengar had managed to keep up with the others' explanations. "Right when you were coming down on him. Either he got lucky with what he decided to grab and take with him, or he's gotten a lot smarter than any of us would've ever have taken him for."

  "What does it matter?" With growing exasperation, Neelah looked from one bounty hunter to the other. "The only thing that's important is that this fabricated evidence still exists. And if we can get our hands on it—" The possibilities had already leapt up in her mind, of finding the answers to the remaining questions about her own past. "Then we might be able to figure out who cre­ated it in the first place, and why they did it, and ..."

  "And that person's connection to you, of course." Boba Fett glanced over at her. "Don't worry; that mys­tery might not have the same personal significance for

  me that it does for you, but it still represents a potential source of profit. That makes it important enough to me."

  "So it's back to Tatooine," said Dengar. The notion seemed to cheer him; Neelah figured that was because he would be able to see his betrothed, Manaroo, once again.

  "If only it were as easy as all that." The jagged smile had vanished from Balancesheet's face. "But I'm afraid it's not. My poor lumbering freighter, as comfortable a home and place of business as it provides for me, would never reach Tatooine before Bossk found a buyer for the item he's trying to sell."

  "So what's the problem? The Hound's Tooth is plenty fast enough—"

  "Yes," interrupted Balancesheet, "and it's a marked ship. It's the one vessel in which it would be a dead cer­ tainty you'd never be able to reach Tatooine. Or, at least, not alive. Bossk has apparently kept silent about losing his ship to his enemy Boba Fett, but Kuat of Kuat hasn't. After the
bombing raid he ordered didn't succeed at kill­ ing you off, and after his information sources had let him know that the Rebel Alliance had confiscated the aban­ doned Slave I, Kuat was able to figure out that you must be aboard the Hound. So Kuat has put out the word that he wants the Hound's Tooth found and intercepted— and if that means killing whoever's aboard it, so much the better. Which means that there are a lot of bounty hunters looking for it. Given that a great many of them still bear a grudge against you, for what you did to break up the old Bounty Hunters Guild, this is their perfect op­ portunity to get paid a substantial pile of credits and get their revenge, all at the same time." The assembler's tri­ angular head tilted to one side, regarding Fett. "Ironic, isn't it? You've been the hunter for so long ... and now you're the hunted."

  "If I still had Slave I," said Boba Fett, "none of them would have a chance of stopping me."

  "But you don't. And Bossk's ship is nowhere near the equivalent of your own, even if you were completely at ease with its weapons systems. The other bounty hunters

  would pick you off long before you got anywhere near Tatooine. There's probably not much time remaining be­fore one of them finds you here in this remote sector. So it's no longer just a matter of realizing profits, or discov­ ering the secrets of some stolen past." Balancesheet's glit­ tering eyes took in the others, one by one. "For all of you, it's a matter of survival now."