by Timothy Zahn
That was all too deep to think about, especially now, when he had allied himself with creatures like Boba Fett and D'harhan. Maybe later, Zuckuss had mused as he'd climbed the ladder to the cockpit. If there was a later.
"I don't get that voice-box device he carries around." Zuckuss nodded toward the ladder and the hold below. "Seems kind of awkward. I would've thought something that left his hands free would be more useful for communicating."
"D'harhan doesn't have a lot of need for com municating." Boba Fett's voice sounded dryly amused. "And before, when there were others like him, they coordinated their actions with their own internal comm network."
"There were others? Like him?" That seemed a dismaying prospect to Zuckuss. "What happened to them?"
Fett made no reply.
Zuckuss tried another question. "What was he like before?" He didn't even feel like saying the other's name aloud. "Before he became ... what he is now?"
"That's none of your business." Boba Fett didn't take his eyes away from the Slave I's controls. "He's been as he is for a long time. If you never knew of D'harhan before, it's because he minds his own business, in regions of the galaxy where such as you never travel."
Fett glanced over his shoulder at Zuckuss. "For which you should be grateful."
The discussion of the final team member was concluded; Zuckuss knew better than to ask any more prying questions. I'll be glad when this fob is over, he thought ruefully. Things had been getting increasingly sticky back at the Bounty Hunters Guild, with its rapidly thickening air of conspiracy and stealth, the various backstabbing alliances forming and dissolving and recoalescing with new partners and enemies on a daily, even hourly basis. Going on this Oph Nar Dinnid job, dangerous as the Shell Hutts' defenses were reputed to be, seemed like a piece of baked confectionery by comparison. But even here, in the starless void of hyperspace, Zuckuss knew he was still in the uncomfortable midst of those dangerous spiderwebs; all it would take would be for Bossk or Boba Fett to find out that he was working from Cradossk's agenda, and he'd be pitched out into vacuum from either the Slave Fs or the Hound's waste chute, boots first. Agreeing to Cradossk's schemes was beginning to look like less of a good deal now that Zuckuss was out here, with nothing to count on but his own smarts and urge to survive.
"Stop fidgeting." Boba Fett spoke without looking around at Zuckuss. "Brace yourself; we're about to drop into sublight space."
Zuckuss was already familiar with the Slave I's abrupt navigational transitions; Fett's working vessel was stripped of any deceleration buffers that might have impaired its speed or fighting abilities. The ship consequently slammed from one transit mode to another with a gut-wrenching impact. Zuckuss grabbed either side of the hatchway and averted his lidless eyes so he wouldn't have to see the stars blur sicken-ingly into focus beyond the cockpit's main viewport.
"There's Bossk."
Opening his eyes, Zuckuss saw the Hound's Tooth floating before them, engines shut off. A signal light flashed, and Boba Fett reached over and pressed the comm button. "Fett here. Have you made contact with the Circumtore landing authorities?"
"Positive on that." IG-88's flat, expressionless voice sounded from the cockpit speaker. "Approach and landing permission has not-I repeat, not-been granted."
"I didn't expect it would be," said Boba Fett dryly.
"When people like us show up, hardly anyone puts out a welcome mat."
"At the conclusion of our last exchange, the Shell Hutts indicated they would be sending out a negotiator."
"What level?"
Bossk's voice broke into the discussion. "The fat slugs said it would be an Alpha Point Zero. What's that mean?"
Boba Fett kept his thumb on the comm button. "That's the Shell Hutts' top authority level. They don't go any higher than that. So it means two things One, we don't have to bother with any small-fry underlings, and two, they're taking our arrival very seriously."
"When this negotiator gets out here, what's our plan?" Bossk sounded hungry for action, as though the journey out from the Bounty Hunters Guild had been an eternity of chafing inaction. "Kill him?"
Typical, thought Zuckuss, slowly shaking his head.
He'd had enough experience with Bossk to know that that was always his Plan A. And there usually wasn't a B.
Fett glanced over his shoulder at Zuckuss. "Don't worry." He turned and pressed the comm button again. "We can be a little more subtle than that. You and IG-88 should transfer over here to the Slave I before the Shell Hutts' negotiator arrives. But remember-I do the talking."
Bossk's ship, the heavily armed Hound's Tooth, was left in autostandby, its alarm systems set to refuse entry to anyone other than its returning master. Zuckuss was aware of the level of Bossk's paranoia, and the number of lethal booby traps he had installed throughout the Hound, all to prevent anyone from invading his base of operations. That was the main reason Zuckuss had gone instead with Boba Fett; his nerves had still been frayed from the last time he had been aboard the Hound's Tooth, when he'd constantly had to be on guard against setting off any of the security devices. Better to let the bounty- hunter droid IG-88 take the risk, even if it meant losing track of Bossk-the main reason Zuckuss was on the team for this job-for the duration of the journey.
He went down into the Slave J's holding area to open the transfer hatch between the two ships. The hunched shape of the partially shut-down D'harhan filled one corner of the area; he could feel the laser cannon's standby optics registering his presence, lifting the weapon's barrel slightly and turning it in his direction, as he stepped from the bottom rung of the ladder.
From the small viewport beside the hatch, Zuck-uss could see the Hound's Tooth being maneuvered into docking position. When it had connected with the Slave I, Zuckuss hit the hatch release controls; a sharp hiss sounded as the two ships equalized their internal atmospheric pressures. The hatch irised open, and Bossk and IG-88 stepped aboard. Bossk pressed a button on the remote cockpit control at his waist, and the Hound disengaged and drew into a parallel orbit above the surface of Circumtore.
"Where's Fett?" Bossk scanned the Slave I's holding area. Though it was the largest open space aboard the ship, it was already cramped with the three bounty hunters in it. Boba Fett's ship was built for speed and destruction, not comfort.
Zuckuss pointed to the ladder leading to the cockpit.
"He's still up there. I think he's getting ready for the arrival of the Shell Hutts' negotiator."
His guess was proved correct when Boba Fett's voice crackled from a speaker mounted on the bulkhead. "We'll need to make room," said Fett over the ship's internal comm system. "I've just been informed that the negotiator is one of the Shell Hutts; they didn't send one of their pet intermediaries. If we're going to get one of those tanks aboard here, we'll need all the space we can get."
"I don't see how ..." Zuckuss turned, looking around the Slave I's holding area. "The only room down here is in the cages."
"So?" Boba Fett's voice spoke again. "What's the problem?"
Bossk glared at the cages where Boba Fett kept his captured pieces of merchandise, en route to collecting the bounty on them. "I'm not going in there," he growled.
"You're the biggest one here," Zuckuss pointed out helpfully. "Except, of course-" He pointed to D'harhan's massive bulk, the laser cannon's barrel protruding slightly above the drawn-up knees and encircled metal tail. "For him."
The three bounty hunters looked over at D'harhan.
"I don't know," said Bossk. Even he seemed in timidated by the presence of a fully charged laser cannon in their midst. "Maybe it's not a good idea to wake him up." too late. One of D'harhan's hands tapped out another message on the silenced voice box and turned its glowing screen toward them, I hear ... EVERYTHING YOU SAY.
Zuckuss and the other two bounty hunters stepped back, spines against the bulkhead, as the roused D'harhan slowly stood up, the segmented metal tail drawing around behind him. The housing of the laser cannon mounted onto D'harha
n's chest and shoulders reached above even Bossk's head. The massive weapon's tracking systems regarded the bounty hunters in silence for a moment.
"Watch out!" Zuckuss's cry was involuntary, triggered by the sight of the indicator lights on the laser cannon suddenly surging to red. He dived to the floor as Bossk and IG-88 scattered to either side of the cramped holding area.
On the gridded floor, with his arms pulled over his head, Zuckuss heard the quick, sharp sizzle of a laser bolt, then another; their glare lit up the space, stinging his eyes. In the quiet that followed, he could smell ozone and scorched metal.
Lifting his head, Zuckuss saw the lights on the side of the animate laser cannon dwindling back down to yellow and safety. Flanking the holding area, Bossk and IG-88 looked first toward D'harhan, then toward the target of his ramped-down laser bolts. The impacts had been precisely calculated and aimed, shattering the hinges of the main merchandise cage; fragments of molten durasteel, scattered across the floor, glowed a dull red. Wisps of acrid smoke rose from the edge of the cage door as it fell with a resounding clang.
"there," spoke D'harhan's voice box aloud.
"NOW YOU SHOULD HAVE ... NO OBJECTIONS."
"Your point is valid." IG-88's circuitry had re covered completely from the sudden burst of laser fire.
The droid stepped over the bars of the fallen door and into what was left of the cage, then turned around.
Bossk regarded D'harhan for a moment longer, his slitted eyes looking up at the cooling laser cannon with something like envy, then followed the other bounty hunter into the area's adjoining space, now incapable of being shut and locked.
That'll take some fixing, thought Zuckuss. Con sidering the proprietary attitude that Boba Fett natu rally took toward the Slave I and its fittings, he was more than relieved that D'harhan had blown the holding cage hinges and not him.
At that moment Boba Fett appeared on the ladder coming down from the cockpit. The bounty hunters watched as Fett's visored gaze turned toward the cage in which he transported his merchandise, then down to the barred door lying in front of it.
"That's coming out of your share," Fett told D'harhan.
The black-gloved hand moved across the voice box's keyboard. "no, it's not."
For a moment longer they stood facing each other-one masked behind the visored helmet, the other faceless except for the muzzle of the laser cannon-before Boba Fett finally gave a slow nod. "We'll talk."
"There's a ship approaching." Zuckuss pointed to the viewport. "It must be the Shell Hutts' negotiator."
In the viewport, a spherical craft moved closer to the Slave I; a simple off-planet shuttle, it displayed tortoise insignia of the Shell Hutts and a diplomatic emblazon showing its unarmed status. The shuttle's forward hatch had already deployed its docking arms, ready to hook up with the Slave I's transfer hatch.
A few moments later, as Zuckuss manned the hatch's controls, a broad face with a slit gash of a mouth appeared floating before the bounty hunters. The elongated, tapering cylinder of the Shell Hutt negotiator moved with ponderous grace into the holding area, its underside repulsor beams pushing invisibly against the floor grids. As the end of the tanklike casing made it through the transfer hatch, Zuckuss hit the button and irised the hatch closed again.
"Ah, Boba Fett!" The casing, studded with rivets and various maintenance ports, swung about in the holding area, past the other bounty hunters and toward the figure standing near the metal ladder. A leering smile formed on the Shell Hutt's face. Tiny mechanical hands dangled beneath a gleaming chromium collar, sealed tight around the wattled gray flesh of its neck; the claws, delicate as a scuttling sea crab's, clicked happily against each other. "How pleasant to see you again."
Fett's response was dry and emotionless. "My feelings, Gheeta, are the same as the last time we met."
Bossk spoke from the holding cage. "You know this creature?"
"We've had ... business dealings." Fett didn't look back at the Trandoshan. "A couple times before."
"And very profitable they were, too." The cylinder with the Shell Hutt inside bobbed slightly as it turned toward Bossk. "At least ... for some people." The smile on Gheeta's face soured. "I hope," he said to Boba Fett,
"that you're not expecting the same degree of trust that you found previously on Circumtore." The little crablike hands snapped their metal claws together, hard enough to produce sparks. "After that last affair of yours, Fett, you're not going to be greeted with open arms."
"I don't need to be." Boba Fett stood face-to-face with the Shell Hutt. "You're a business creature, Gheeta, and so am I. Warm sentiments have nothing to do with it.
If you're ready to do business, then we have something to talk about. If you're not ready, then we don't."
"The same old Boba Fett." The Shell Hutt's head, its jowly neck bound by the floating cylinder's collar, managed an appreciative nod. "It's good to know that some things in this universe never cliange. Just what business is it you've come to Circumtore to discuss?"
"I think you've got a pretty good idea of that."
Gheeta's expression turned sly, the lids over his large eyes drawing halfway down. "It wouldn't be something to do with a certain Oph Nar Dinnid, would it?"
"Stop wasting time!" Bossk's angry shout broke in.
"You know damn well that's what we're here for!"
An amused glance from the corner of one eye, then Gheeta looked back at Fett. "Your associate has a charming directness about him."
Fett nodded. "Among other virtues."
"The others must be well concealed," said Gheeta dryly. One of the metal hands reached up to scratch between the wattles at the side of his neck. "You realize, of course, that the party under discussion-this Dinnid person-is a guest on Circumtore. You know how all Hutts are about hospitality. The happiness of a guest is a sacred obligation with our species."
Spare me, thought Zuckuss, watching the exchange between Boba Fett and the Shell Hutt. Throughout the galaxy, the treachery and outright malice that Hutts showed toward any who found themselves in one of their windowless palaces was proverbial. Zuckuss had heard things about how the infamous Jabba, the preeminent Huttese crime lord, went through so-called guests and the more disposable type of servants that made his flesh crawl. That was the difference, Zuckuss supposed, between Boba Fett and a creature like this Gheeta. Fett didn't go out of his way to hurt or even kill anyone-if it hap pened, it happened-whereas Hutts in general took an active delight in other creatures' suffering.
"There are some," said Boba Fett, "who would take an interest in Dinnid's happiness equal to your own."
"Ah, yes." The massive head at the forward end of the repulsor-borne cylinder nodded. "Dinnid's former employers. I take it that you're here on their behalf?"
"I'm here on no one's behalf but my own."
"But of course." Gheeta's smile expanded enough to reveal his wet, flickering tongue. "I really expected nothing else. Altruism is in short supply among the practitioners of your trade. I imagine it's the same for your friends here." One of the little crablike hands raised and gestured at the others in the Slave J's holding area. "Rather an intimidating crew, don't you think, Fett? It makes the heart inside my casing tremble just to look at them." Gheeta peered more closely at Bossk. "Let's see ... you're Cradossk's son, aren't you?"
Bossk's eyes were two razor slits, his voke a low snarl. "What's that matter to you?" "You really are his son." Gheeta widened his eyes in mock fright. "Give the old reptile my best regards the next time you see him. "Which shouldn't be too long from now." The Shell Hutt rotated himself back toward Boba Fett. "Because if you think I'm going to let an obviously vicious bunch like this come sailing down to Circumtore, then you've got a few circuits blown inside that helmet of yours, Fett."
The remark produced no reaction in its target. "We can hardly discuss the matter out here," said Boba Fett.
"I make it a rule to talk business only when the merchandise is on the table, so to speak."
&
nbsp; "I have to warn you." The claws of the little mechanical hands clicked against each other again. "This is very expensive merchandise we're talking about."
"That makes it all the more profitable, then." Fett indicated the other bounty hunters. "And that's. why we've come here."
"I can believe that, well enough." Gheeta used one of the claws to scratch the almost boneless flesh of his chin. "I just don't know if you've really changed your ways, my dear Fett, regarding just how you acquire your profitable merchandise. I had heard, naturally, about your having joined the Bounty Hunters Guild-and I must admit that all of my clan on Circumtore were surprised by the news. Getting old and tired, are we, Fett?"
"Not tired." Boba Fett gave a slow shake of his head.
"Just smart."
"Smart for you, no doubt." The Shell Hutt broadcast his sly, insinuating smile around at the others. "I wonder, though ... just what your new-found friends here get out of the deal."
Zuckuss found himself gazing straight into the Shell Hutt's eyes as the floating cylinder turned his way. The same sensation came over him as when he had felt the tracking systems of D'harhan's laser cannon locking onto him, calculating the precise angle and force necessary for his destruction. The pupils of Gheeta's eyes were like narrow windows into a realm of avarice, the slow and certain calculus of insatiable appetites. Getting blown away-literally, into disconnected atoms-by a laser bolt would be mercifully quick by comparison.
Another feeling, even more disquieting, moved inside Zuckuss that the dark pupils regarding him with such amused contempt were not windows, but mirrors into his own heart. Little creature, he could hear Gheeta speaking inside his head, I am what you would like to be. All mouth and gut and hunger. In this cold galaxy, the commandment of Eat or Be Eaten prevailed, from the throne of Emperor Palpatine all the way down to the smallest carnivore, a Tatooinian womp rat, scuttling across an empty desert.
