Star Wars - The Bounty Hunter Wars - The Mandalorian Armor

by K. W. Jeter

  dull-fanged mercenaries like Cradossk and the rest of the

  Bounty Hunters Guild council to swallow a well-oiled

  line, then so be it. If anything, it was just proof that

  words could trap and kill as well as any other weapon.

  "Should you not thank Boba Fett?" The elder standing

  near Bossk made a sweeping gesture with his serrated

  forearm. "For your sake, has he not repeated what he

  already has so eloquently stated to us?"

  "And you fell for it." Bossk sneered at all the

  council members, his father included. "You don't have the

  guts to fight him, so you'd rather believe that he's on

  your side now."

  Boba Fett raised his inner estimation of the

  Trandoshan bounty hunter. He's going to be trouble,

  thought Fett. Not just another dumb carnivore. If the

  time ever did come when Bossk inherited the leadership of

  the Bounty Hunters Guild, it might in fact become serious

  competition for him. But right now Bossk's smarts and his

  fierce temper were weapons to be turned against him and

  the others.

  "You'll see, my little one." Cradossk roused himself

  into an approximation of sobriety. "If I didn't love you

  the way I do, I'd have your scaly hide peeled off and

  tanned into a wall hanging for our new member's

  quarters." He extended a wobbling claw toward Bossk. "But

  because I want there to be something someday for my spawn

  to possess and lead, the way I lead the Guild now-and

  because I'm not dead yet, so there's still time for you

  to gain both some manners and some knowledge of how the

  galaxy works-that's why I'm not asking you to be brothers

  with Boba Fett. I'm telling you to do it."

  "Very well." The slits in Bossk's eyes narrowed into

  apertures a honed razor might have cut. "As you wish.

  Maybe there is something I can learn from an . . . old

  one like you." He smiled the ugly smile characteristic of

  his species. "After all-you murdered your way to control

  of the Guild. I have but to wait, and it's mine."

  "Is not patience a virtue, even among the assassins?"

  Bossk pushed the other council member aside, knocking

  him against the smaller figure of Zuckuss. The Trandoshan

  stepped up to the crescent-shaped table, directly in

  front of Boba Fett. One clawed hand grasped the goblet by

  its stem. "To your health." Bossk drained the contents,

  then threw the goblet against the wall behind; it clanged

  like a bell, then rolled clattering across the hard stone

  tiles of the floor. "However long it lasts."

  "I suppose"-Fett returned the other's gaze- "it'll

  last long enough."

  Dark wine seeped around Bossk's fangs as he leaned

  toward Fett. "You might fool the others," he whispered,

  "but you're not fooling me. I don't know what your game

  is-but I don't worry about you knowing mine." His voice

  dropped lower and more guttural as he brought his snout

  almost against the visor of Fett's helmet. "I'll be a

  brother to you, all right. And I know how, believe me. I

  had brothers when I was spawned. And you know what?"

  Bossk's breath smelled of wine and blood. "I ate them."

  He turned and strode away, toward the council

  chamber's doors. One of Bossk's clawed feet connected

  with the empty goblet he had thrown, sending it

  skittering against the wall like a tiny droid whose

  circuits had been scooped out. The other bounty hunter,

  Zuckuss, glanced around at the watching faces, then ran

  after Bossk.

  Sitting next to Boba Fett, Cradossk heaved a sigh.

  "Don't judge us too harshly, my friend." Cradossk took

  the flagon from the tray being held near him and refilled

  his own goblet. He knocked that back and filled it again.

  "Sometimes our get-togethers go a little better than

  this. . . ."

  10

  "You've been a long time away," said the Emperor. The

  ancient, withered head slowly nodded. "Many are the stars

  you travel among."

  "All my journeying is in your service." Prince Xizor

  inclined his head, a courtly signal of submission. The

  dark serpent of his topknot brushed across his shoulder.

  "And to the glory of the Empire."

  "Well spoken, as always." Emperor Palpatine swiveled

  his throne toward another section of the immense room.

  "Whatever else might be said of him, you must agree that

  the prince has a way with words. Don't you think so,

  Vader?"

  Xizor turned toward the hologram of the dark-caped

  figure-an intimidatingly life-sized image, transmitted

  from the Devastator, Lord Vader's personal flagship.

  Don't try it on this one, Xizor warned himself. He had

  witnessed too many examples of what happened to those

  whose words caused the Dark Lord of the Sith to lose

  patience. The Emperor might be keeping him on a short

  leash. But one long enough, thought Xizor, to reach my

  throat.

  "Your judgment, my lord, exceeds mine." Vader kept

  his own words as diplomatically inscrutable as the mask

  that concealed his face. "You know best where to place

  your trust."

  "Sometimes, Vader, I think you'd prefer it if I

  trusted no one but you." The Emperor put his fingertips

  together. Behind him, framed in the towering windows of

  the throne room, the curved arms of the galaxy extended,

  like shoals of gems in an ink-black sea. Below the stars,

  the towers and massive shapes of Imperial City rolled

  like the crests of a frozen sea across the hidden surface

  of Coruscant, a monument in durasteel to both the

  ambition and the grasp of Palpatine. "I see into so many

  creatures' hearts, and all I find there is fear. Which is

  as it should be." The deep-set eyes contemplated the

  empty cage formed by his hands, as though envisioning the

  worlds bound by the Empire's power. "But when I look into

  yours, Vader, I see ... something else." Like a hooded

  mendicant rather than the ruler of worlds, Emperor

  Palpatine peered through the angles of his fingers.

  "Something almost like . . . desire."

  Prince Xizor managed to keep his own smile from

  showing. Desire among the Falleen, his species, meant

  only one thing. His cruel beauty, the sharply chiseled

  planes of his face, and his regal bearing, combined with

  a pheromone-rich musk that evaded all conscious senses,

  were what put a female of any world under his command.

  Humanoid female, of a type pleasing to his own sense of

  aesthetics; if the members of the more repulsive of the

  galaxy's species were similarly affected, that was not

  something he had yet felt the need to put to the test.

  "It is only the desire to serve you," said Lord

  Vader. "And the Empire."

  "Of course; what else could it be?" Palpatine smiled

  indulgently, an effect no less intimidating than any

  other expression that moved across his age-creased face.

  "But I am surrounded by those who wish to serve me.

  Xizor, for one-"
The Emperor's hand gestured toward him.

  "He says all the same things as you do. If you are closer

  to what's left of my heart, Vader, if for the moment I

  place more trust in you than I do in others, it's because

  of something beyond words."

  "Actions," said Xizor with cold hauteur, "indicate

  more than words. Judge my loyalty by what I achieve for

  the Empire."

  "And what is that?" Vader's image turned the force of

  his penetrating gaze upon Xizor. "You scurry about on

  your mysterious, self-appointed errands, your rounds of

  those whose devotion to our cause is somewhat less than

  ideal. Fear motivates many creatures, but there are still

  those who believe their meager cunning can line their

  pockets. Criminals, conspirators, thieves, and builders

  of their own little empires-you know too many of those

  types, Xizor. I sometimes wonder what their attraction is

  for you."

  Standing against Vader-even in this insubstantial

  form-was like facing radiation hard enough to strip flesh

  from bone. Not for the first time Xizor felt an invisible

  hand settle around his throat. His own willpower kept the

  breath sliding in and out of his lungs. But if Vader were

  to unleash his complete wrath, the force of will might

  not be enough. Xizor had seen others, the highest-ranking

  officers in the Empire's forces, clutching their throats

  and gasping for air, writhing like a Dantooinian garfish

  caught on a barbed trawling line. Perhaps wisely, Vader

  tended to avoid such displays in front of the Emperor;

  why tempt the old man into showing how much greater was

  his own mastery of the Force that penetrated and bound

  the galaxy together?

  "There is no attraction for me, Lord Vader." As

  always before, he wondered just how much Vader knew. How

  much he might suspect, and how much he could prove.

  Vader's disdain for the galaxy's less reputable schemers

  and thugs was well known; he dealt with such as bounty

  hunters only on rare occasions. Which is to my benefit,

  thought Xizor. For Vader and the Imperial high command,

  criminals and mercenaries were all vermin that would be

  swept away, and soon if their latest plans went as

  expected. So that kind is left to me-he had built his own

  shadow empire, that of the Black Sun, out of exactly such

  rejected dregs. If the Emperor and Vader didn't want to

  dirty their hands, then he had no such tender scruples.

  "I do what I must," said Xizor, not untruthfully. The

  fact that he was still standing here, in Emperor

  Palpatine's private sanctuary, and not cut down by the

  Emperor's or Vader's swift wrath, indicated that Black

  Sun still operated in the eclipse of its secrecy, for

  now, thought Xizor. He turned toward the Emperor. "This

  sacrifice," he lied, "I also make on your behalf. Judge

  as well, those who think it beneath them."

  "Excellent." The Emperor displayed a cold smile. "If

  you had no other value to me, Xizor, I would still

  require your presence, just for the . . . stimulating

  effect you have on Lord Vader."

  He already hates my entrails, thought Xizor as he

  glanced over at the black-robed figure. Nothing had been

  lost in this exchange.

  "But you still haven't answered my questions." The

  Emperor leaned forward, his sharp gaze fastening on

  Xizor. "I summoned you here for a reason. Let us set

  aside, for the time being, all this fractious comparison

  between your loyalty and that of Lord Vader. You say you

  have been busy on my behalf. . . ."

  "On yours, my lord, and the Empire's."

  "One and the same thing, Xizor. As all the worlds

  shall soon know." The Emperor settled back in the throne.

  "Very well. Your doings are not something which you have

  discussed with either Lord Vader or myself. Either you

  have shown commendable initiative-or foolhardy rashness."

  Any trace of amusement had drained out of the Emperor's

  voice. "Now is your chance to convince me that the former

  is the case."

  He had known that this time would come. It was one

  thing to go out and set one's schemes in motion-that was

  the easy part-but it was another to come back here and

  defend those schemes when one's life or death depended

  upon eloquence. And, thought Xizor, lying eloquence, at

  that.

  "As great as your empire is, my lord, it is still at

  peril." The combined gaze of Vader and the Emperor made

  him feel as transparent as glass, as though their mastery

  over the Force enabled them to look straight into the

  essence he kept so carefully shielded. "Great are your

  powers, but they are still not enough to achieve all that

  you want."

  "You say nothing new." Contempt showed in the

  Emperor's eyes. "That is the same thing that my admirals

  tell me. They are not believers, as Lord Vader is; they

  doubt the existence of any power that they cannot unleash

  with the push of a button. They doubt, even when they've

  had the edifying experience of feeling the Force crushing

  the life out of them. Doubt weakens and makes fools out

  of such creatures." An unwavering hand raised and pointed

  toward Xizor. "You're not such a fool, are you?"

  Xizor bowed his head. "I do not doubt, my lord."

  "That's why I'm still listening to you." The Em

  peror's hand lowered and stroked the arm of the throne.

  "My patience is such, however, that I listen to the

  Imperial admirals as well, fools that they are. Even

  fools say wise things, from time to time. And that is why

  I gave permission for their great project, the

  construction of what they called the Death Star-"

  "You should have listened to me," said Vader. The

  rush of his breath sounded louder and angrier. "The

  Rebellion was growing even then, and the admirals wasted

  your time on such folly. I told them that the Death Star,

  when it was completed, would be a machine and nothing

  more. Its power would be nothing compared to that which

  you already possess." Vader's voice darkened in tone,

  indicating the depths of his annihilating temper. "And I

  was proved right, was I not, my lord?"

  "Indeed you were, Vader." The Emperor gave a single

  nod. "But even in the wretchedness of their folly, my

  admirals were still right about one thing. Their little

  minds are made of the same unenlightened stuff as are the

  minds of most of the galaxy's inhabitants. They see

  things the same way-and other things are invisible to

  them. The Jedi Knights are no longer; they were the only

  ones, other than ourselves, who could see the Force for

  what it is. These lesser creatures are blind to that

  which moves the stars in all the worlds' skies and the

  blood in the veins of those below. They need something

  they can see-that was what my admirals hoped to give them

  with the Death Star. Its power-such as it was-lay within

  the comprehension of all the
lesser creatures; it would

  have evoked the fear and obedience that the subtleties of

  the Force would take a great deal longer to achieve. You

  were right that it was a machine and nothing more. But

  still a useful machine. A tool. When all that is required

  is a hammer, it is folly to turn the universe's primal

  energy to such mundane purposes."

  Darth Vader stood unmoved by the Emperor's words. "I

  trust that you will remember one thing. A hammer can be

  broken, as can any other tool. The Death Star was

  destroyed. But the Force is eternal."

  "I won't forget, Vader. But for now, all such simple

  tools are the concern of my admirals. Let them occupy

  themselves with building better ones, if they can. We

  have already distracted ourselves from our purpose here."

  The Emperor turned back toward Prince Xizor. "You say the

  Empire is at risk. You tell me nothing new. I am aware of

  the threat presented by the Rebel Alliance-a threat that

  will be extinguished in due time. But the level of your

  concern, Xizor, is what I find surprising. It sounds like

  doubt to me, no matter what you say to the contrary. And

  doubt should be eliminated at the source."

  "Not doubt, but the truth." The edges of Xizor's own

  intricately stitched robes trailed across his boots as he

  folded his arms across his chest. "You cannot vanquish

  the Alliance without creating new threats to your

  authority. As your power increases and becomes closer to

  absolute, so does an unavoidable hazard. A hazard that is

  woven into the very fiber of the Empire."

  "He speaks nonsense, my lord."

  "Nonsense to those who cannot see." Xizor gazed from

  the corner of his eye at the black-garbed figure standing

  next to him. "Perhaps Lord Vader is blinded by the Force.

  After all, his mastery of it is not equal to your own."

  The invisible hand Xizor felt at his throat suddenly

  tightened, as hard and constricting as an iron band. Even

  Vader's mere image had the power to kill. Xizor's chin

  was thrust backward, the vision in his eyes filled with

  trapped blood.

  "Leave him be, Vader." The Emperor's voice came from

  somewhere beyond that darkening red cloud. "I'm intrigued

  by what he has to say. I want to hear the rest. Before I

  make my decision."

  The hand let go, and breath flooded back into Xizor's

  lungs. He had kept his arms folded throughout the brief