Star Wars - The Bounty Hunter Wars - The Mandalorian Armor

by K. W. Jeter

  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."

  "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.

  His heart dwindled within himself, from that moment

  of recognition in the Shell Hutt's eyes. There had been

  others who had lived and fought, their struggles guided

  by a different code; there had been a time when even he

  had listened to tales of the Jedi Knights defending the

  old Republic. But those are fust stories now, Zuckuss

  told himself. Those days, and the brave creatures that

  had lived in them, were never coming back. And without

  them, the Rebels fighting against the Empire were poor,

  pathetic foo
ls, doomed to failure. Their bones would be

  picked clean and discarded on the battlefields of worlds

  without names. The hungry ones, with their greed and lust

  for dominion, would always win. . . .

  Bleak, wordless meditation ended as the Shell Hutt's

  knowing, judging smile moved away from him. Pull yourself

  together, Zuckuss told himself. He had made his pact with

  the universe he'd found himself in; he was a bounty

  hunter now, and had been so long enough to be traveling

  in league with some of the toughest ones in the galaxy.

  If he showed any signs of weakness at this point, he

  knew, he wouldn't have to worry about Emperor Palpatine

  or any of the Shell Hutts; his own colleagues would tear

  him apart. A carnivore like Bossk would very likely con

  sume him, in the exact and literal sense of the word.

  That thought made Zuckuss feel at least a little better

  about having become part of old Cradossk's intricate

  scheming. Better you than me, he thought, glancing over

  at Bossk.

  "Don't worry about us." That was Bossk's voice,

  giving a snarling reply to Gheeta. "We can take care of

  ourselves."

  "I'm sure you can." The Shell Hutt didn't stop

  smiling. "After all ... you're learning from the master,

  aren't you? Boba Fett has always done very well for

  himself."

  "I would be doing even better," said Fett, "if we

  could limit our discussion to that which we came here

  for. Specifically, that merchandise known as Oph Nar

  Dinnid."

  "But that merchandise isn't on the table right now,

  is it?" Gheeta's large eyes emitted a spark of anger.

  "And it's not going to be. Not out here, at least. You

  want to discuss the fate of our guest, you will indeed

  have to come down to Circumtore to do it-just as you

  wish. I'm only here to explain how things are in that

  regard. I'm giving you the conditions, not cutting the

  deal."

  "Why not?" Zuckuss spoke up. "I don't get it. The

  other members of your clan wouldn't have sent you out

  here if you didn't have some kind of authority to speak

  for them. If they'd just wanted to send us some message,

  they could've comm'd it out here or sent some flunky of a

  different species, like a Twi'lek or something. So why

  mess around? If you're willing to talk about Dinnid at

  all, why not do it here?"

  The smile on the broad, jowly face turned into a

  sneer. "Your colleague Boba Fett wouldn't ask such a

  stupid question. A question which has an equally simple

  answer. We're all aboard the Slave I right now, aren't

  we? The Slave I is Boba Fett's ship; he controls it. So

  as long as we're here, he controls the discussion as

  well. There have been times when discussions with Boba

  Fett have gotten ... a little ugly. Things start out nice

  and friendly, and then they just . . . change somehow."

  Gheeta feigned mulling over that statement. "Probably

  because the parties involved couldn't come to an

  agreement about the value and price of the merchandise

  being discussed." He glanced over at Fett. "You always

  like to get things as cheaply as possible, don't you?"

  Boba Fett made no reply.

  "Cheaply," continued Gheeta, "as far as credits are

  concerned. When it comes to violence . . . well, that's

  another story, isn't it?" The floating cylinder turned,

  bringing the Shell Hutt's face back toward Zuckuss.

  "That's when your colleague has rather a free hand.

  Especially when other creatures' skins are involved. And

  the blood-that can also get a little thick to wade

  through, when Boba Fett's around." Another shift in angle

  brought Gheeta's face toward the bounty hunters in

  general. "So if you think I'm going to remain here, in

  the heart of Fett's traveling circus of destruction,

  surrounded by his friends-or if not his friends, then

  creatures with whom he's come to a certain business

  arrangement-and talk about the merchandise in question,

  let alone actually bring that merchandise here . . ."

  Gheeta's jowls wobbled against the cylinder's gleaming

  collar as he shook his head. "Then it's not just Boba

  Fett who's gone a little insane. You're all not in sync

  with reality if you think that's going to happen."

  A low growl came from the doorless holding cage.

  "You've said your piece?" Bossk folded his arms across

  his chest.

  Gheeta looked over at the Trandoshan. "Yes, I have."

  "And now you're going to be on your way?"

  "As charming as your company is, I see no reason for

  wasting any more of your time or mine."

  "What makes you think we're going to let you leave?"

  A weary sigh escaped from the Shell Hutt as he rolled

  his eyes toward the top of the holding area, "I really

  expected better from any companions of yours, Fett. Do

  you want to tell him or should I?"

  "He leaves when he wants to," said Boba Fett. He

  turned the hard gaze of his visored helmet toward the

  holding cage. "First of all, the merchandise we came here

  for is still down on Circumtore. Anything unpleasant we

  do to the negotiator that the Shell Hutts sent out will

  just make it harder to accomplish anything later, when we

  actually go on-planet."

  Bossk laid his hand on the grip of his blaster.

  "Maybe we should just worry about that when we get down

  there. I don't see any big difference between taking care

  of one canned Hutt and a whole world full of them."

  "There's more inside that can than one Hutt. I've

  dealt with their negotiators before. They never send one

  out that isn't packed with high-thermal explosives."

  "You see?" One of the mechanical hands beneath

  Gheeta's floating cylinder gestured theatrically toward

  Boba Fett. "That's why he's at the top of the bounty-

  hunter profession. It's why he's lasted so long, while

  others have met tragically untimely deaths. Because he's

  learned that other creatures can be just as clever . . .

  and violent, if need be." The thin metal arm telescoped

  outward so that the crab-like hand could reach up to an

  access hatch at the midpoint of the cylinder's tapered

  length. One claw pried open the hatch, revealing a

  ticking mechanism wired into several flat bricks of a

  dull gray substance.

  From where he stood, Zuckuss could see the emblem and

  coding symbols of one of the Imperial Navy's main

  armaments dumps. The explosive charges had obviously been

  stolen, or smuggled out by some enterprising

  accomplice-but they were still more than lethal. Just

  looking at that much destructive force made Zuckuss's

  breath catch in the tubes dangling from his face mask.

  IG-88 had also scanned the explosives, from where it

  stood next to Bossk. "It would be advisable," announced

  the droid, "if no one made an attempt to forcibly defuse

  the triggering mechanism. It has obviously been wired

  with a detect-and-dest
ruct subsystem to prevent just such

  an occurrence."

  "Of course." Gheeta looked pleased with himself. "As

  Fett indicated to you, Shell Hutt negotiators don't come

  into this kind of situation unprepared. If any of you

  were so foolish as to lay a finger on me, or this little

  present I came with, then the consequences would be of

  astronomical significance." His lipless smile broadened.

  "A glowing cloud of radioactive dust . . . perhaps they'd

  even be able to see it back at the Bounty Hunters Guild.

  So at least your friends would know what had become of

  you."

  "I think ... we can all be reasonable about this."

  Zuckuss hastened to spe ak; on the other side of the

  holding area, Bossk looked furious enough to fling

  himself at the Shell Hutt and start pulling wires on the

  explosives, no matter what the consequences might be.

  "Nobody's going to prevent you from leaving whenever you

  want."

  "Good." Gheeta gave an appreciative nod to Zuckuss.

  "You, at least, show some intelligence. Keep it up, and

  someday you might reach the same lofty pinnacle in your

  trade that Boba Fett has." The crablike hand folded the

  little hatch back down and sealed it in place. "This

  thing itches abominably. I'll be glad to be rid of it."

  The hand scratched at the metal door. "I'll take my

  departure now. Though I imagine it won't be very long

  until we all see each other again-down on Circumtore, of

  course."

  The Shell Hutt's tapered casing rotated 180 degrees

  so that it was facing the transfer hatchway. Without

  being bidden, Zuckuss hurried to the controls at the

  side.

  As the hatch irised open, Gheeta turned the floating

  cylinder just enough", that he could look back at Boba

  Fett and the other bounty hunters. "Of course," he said

  blandly, "that's up to you. About whether we do business

  or not. Because I have to tell you-we take a very dim

  view of creatures coming to visit us if they bring along

  the kind of firepower that you like to carry around."

  The cylinder moved through the fully open hatchway.

  It sealed shut with a hiss; a few seconds later the

  mechanical noises of the negotiator's ship disengaging

  were audible. In the small viewport, the craft could be

  seen as it began traveling back down to Circumtore.

  Bossk, looking as angry as before, stepped out of the

  doorless holding cage. "What was that last bit supposed