Star Wars - The Bounty Hunter Wars - The Mandalorian Armor

by K. W. Jeter

  their yellow standby mode.

  It had taken a few moments for Zuckuss to realize

  that this intimidating and unfamiliar entity was only

  partially conscious at that moment. The square, heavily

  armored box mounted beneath the laser cannon's curved

  forward support, resembling a thick breastplate with rows

  of input sockets and flickering LEDs, was the repository

  of all of D'harhan's cerebral functions, surgically

  encased and transferred there from the emptied skull,

  discarded like an empty combat-rations container when the

  massive weapon's base had been drilled into the

  collarbones and vertebral column. What Boba Fett had

  described of the operation had been enough to set

  Zuckuss's spine crawling. It was one thing to augment

  oneself with weapons and detection systems-Zuckuss

  frankly envied Fett's impressive array of sensor and

  destructive devices; the man was a walking armory- but to

  go beyond that, to have whole major sections of one's

  anatomy cut away and replaced with dura-steel and attack-

  level charge batteries, to actually turn oneself into a

  weapon rather than just a bearer of weapons ... a sick

  feeling had moved inside Zuckuss's gut as he'd spied upon

  the sleeping D'harhan. That's where it ends up, he'd

  thought gloomily. If you go all the way. The segmented

  metal tail, the third leg of the laser cannon's tripod

  support, curled around D'harhan like a defensive barrier

  separating him from contact with the universe of living

  things. . . .

  Zuckuss had taken a cautious step closer in the Slave

  I's hold. He'd known that D'harhan wasn't so much asleep

  as just partially shut down, conserving energy for the

  ever-alert weapon above his torso, its glowing lights a

  simple constellation in the darkness. A residual circuit

  was triggered by Zuckuss's approach; one of the black-

  gloved hands turned the illuminated screen of the

  keyboard voice box outward. do not disturb me, read the

  screen, its audio function switched off. leave me be.

  Like a sleeping dragon in a cave, the fiery destruction

  of its breath only smoldering ...

  The silent warning had been enough; Zuckuss had been

  only too happy to retreat to the ladder leading back to

  the Slave Fs cockpit. The dark, somnolent, yet

  threatening form of the creature who had turned himself

  into a weapon aroused mingled dread and nausea inside

  Zuckuss. Once, before he'd decided to become a bounty

  hunter himself, he'd caught a fleeting glimpse of Darth

  Vader, the Dark Lord of the Sith, commanding a punitive

  sweep of Imperial stormtroopers across the capital city

  of a world that had been slow to pay obeisance to the

  distant Emperor Palpatine. The thought had struck him

  then, as it did again now, that there were some paths one

  could follow, where even if one wound up powerful beyond

  one's dreams, one also became somehow diminished, as

  though the essence hidden inside the armor were

  progressively stripped away and replaced with unfeeling

  metal and circuitry.

  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'harhan'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