by K. W. Jeter
the credits into two piles, one of which went back into
the pouch, and then inside Dengar's jacket again. "That's
a regrettably standard arrangement. But I can live with
it." The talons picked up the rest of the credits and
drew it someplace under the cloak-like wings. "So-what's
the message you want to send?"
Dengar hesitated. He'd known how far he could trust
Codeq Santhananan-he'd dealt with him before-but this
Q'nithian was an unknown quantity. Still . . . right now
there was no alternative. And if the Q'nithian wanted the
other half of the payment for his services, there was a
limit to any double-dealing he might be contemplating.
"All right." Dengar leaned even farther across the
table, until he could see himself reflected in the
Q'nithian's darkly shining eyes. "Just four words."
"Which are?"
" 'Boba Fett,' " said Dengar, " 'is alive.' "
Both of the Q'nithian's feathered brows rose. "That's
the message? That's it?" The wings lifted and fell in a
rudimentary shrug. "Seems to me . . . that you're
spending an awful lot of credits ... on some odd kind of
hoax." The Q'nithian studied Den-gar through the lens.
"Not that anyone is going to believe it, anyway.
Everybody knows . . . that Boba Fett got eaten by the
Sarlacc. Some of Jabba the Hutt's ex-employees . . . came
right here into the cantina . . . and told all about it."
"Good for them. I hope somebody bought 'em a drink."
"You appear to be ... a serious person. And you're
paying . . . serious credits." The eye behind the
magnifying lens blinked. "Are you telling me . . . that
the renowned Boba Fett is alive?"
"That's none of your business," said Dengar. "I'm
just paying you to get the message to where it needs to
go."
"As you wish," replied the Q'nithian. "And just where
is that?"
"The planet Kuat. I want Kuat of Kuat to receive it."
"Well, well." The Q'nithian's feathers rustled as he
shifted position on the seat opposite Dengar. "Now, that
is interesting. What makes you think a creature as
important as the CEO of Kuat Drive Yards . . . would be
interested ... in hearing something like that? Whether
it's true or not."
"I told you already." Dengar spoke between gritted
teeth. He was about ready to reach over and crush the
magnifying lens in his fist. "That's not your business."
"Ah. But I think ... it is." The beak opened in a
crude simulation of a humanoid smile. "We are something
like partners now . . . you and I. If Boba Fett is alive
. . . there are others who would be interested in knowing
that . . . rather intriguing fact."
Dengar glared at the Q'nithian. "When Santhananan ran
this business, he knew that his customers weren't just
buying a message being transmitted. They were also buying
him keeping his mouth shut."
"You're not dealing . . . with Santhananan now." The
bright gaze behind the magnifying lens was unperturbed.
"You're dealing with me. And my backers; I'm not a
completely independent agent the way Santhananan was . .
. but then, that may be why he's dead and I'm not. Let's
just say . . . that I have certain additional expenses .
. . that I need to cover." The tip of the lens pointed
toward Dengar. "For which you should be grateful."
"Yeah, I'm grateful, all right." Dengar shook his
head in disgust. That was the problem with doing business
in Mos Eisley; there were always payoffs that had to be
made, bribes in either the form of credits or
information. And disregarding what he was holding back
for the on-delivery payment for the message, he was
effectively tapped out of credits. That left only one
thing to barter. "You want to know why Kuat would be
interested? I'll tell you. It's because he just made one
hell of an effort to make sure that Boba Fett was dead.
Did word of that bombing raid out on the Dune Sea reach
here?"
"Of course it did," said the Q'nithian. "The seismic
shocks had structural beams cracking ... all over Mos
Eisley. Really-the Imperial Navy cannot engage in a
routine practice operation such as that . . . and not
have sentient creatures notice it."
"It wasn't the Imperial Navy. It was a private
operation."
"Oh? And what proof do you have of that?"
Dengar reached inside his jacket, past the drawstring
pouch with the rest of the credits and to the larger,
heavier object he'd found when digging up the damaged
swoop. Back there, he'd brushed the sand off the device,
a dully gleaming sphere that had filled his hand with its
weight and potentiality, and had read the words and
serial numbers incised upon its thick, armored shell.
Reading those words, and realizing what they meant, had
changed all his plans in an instant; they were why he was
here in the Mos Eisley cantina, talking to a message
expediter like this Q'nithian. That hadn't been part of
Boba Fett's plans for this little errand into the
spaceport. Dengar was operating on his own now.
He handed the sphere, with its two off-enter cy
lindrical protrusions, to the Q'nithian. "Take a look."
The sphere was cradled in the taloned hand before the
Q'nithian realized what it was. He almost dropped it,
then his twin claws gripped it desperately tighter and
kept it from bouncing on the tabletop. A dismayed,
wordless squawk sounded from deep within the feather-
wrapped body as he thrust it back toward Dengar.
"What's the matter?" Dengar let his own smile turn
cruel, savoring the other creature's discomfiture.
"Something frighten you?"
"Are you mad?" The Q'nithian gaped at him without
benefit of the magnifying lens. "Do you know what this
is?"
"Sure," answered Dengar easily. "It's an atmospheric
phase-change detonator for an Imperial-class M-12 sweep
bomb. If it's the same as the others I've come across,
it'd be set to ignite an attached charge at a perceived
twenty-millibar differential." His smile widened. "Good
thing it's not hooked up to one, huh?"
"You idiot!" The sphere trembled in the
Q'nithian's talons. "There's still enough explosive in
this fuse to take out half of Mos Eisley!"
"Relax." Dengar took the sphere back from the
Q'nithian. "It's cold. Safely inert. Look-" He turned the
object so a thumbnail-sized data readout showed. "Do you
see those three illuminated red LEDs?"
The Q'nithian shook his head. "No." He raised the
magnifying lens and peered closer. "I don't see any
lights at all."
"Exactly." Dengar set the sphere down between them.
"This one's a dud. These particular detonation devices
have a failure rate in the field approaching almost ten
percent. That's why the Imperial Navy doesn't use them
anymore; they've upgraded to a more reliable
gravity-wave
system that's integrated into the main explosive's
casing. It's not removable like this thing. That
should've been your first clue that it wasn't the Empire
doing a practice bombing run out there in the desert."
"Hmm." The Q'nithian's ruffled feathers smoothed back
down. "You seem to possess ... an unusual degree of
expertise in these matters."
"I've worked at other things besides bounty hunting."
"I admire your versatility," said the Q'nithian.
"That's a useful trait in a sentient creature." He gin
gerly prodded the sphere with the tip of the magnifying
lens. "I'll grant you . . . for the sake of your
exposition . . . that this is not an Imperial device. But
I fail to see the connection between it and Kuat of
Kuat."
"Check it out." Dengar held the sphere up to the
lens. "Serial numbers. All these devices were manu
factured at one armory subcontractor, which has ties to
the Kuat Drive Yards engineering facilities on the planet
Kuat. The devices were numbered sequentiall y, in
production runs of a quarter million. All the ones
numbered below the twelve-million mark were reserved for
KDY's own use, for designing and testing the munitions
storage chambers aboard the heavy cruisers and destroyers
that were being built for the Imperial fleet." Dengar
tapped the tiny incised number with his fingertip. "This
is one of those devices. Obviously, KDY decided there
would be a use someday for some major bombing action-the
company didn't get to be the leading shipbuilder for the
Empire by just underbidding its competition, you know. So
it held some bombs and fuses back, after f all the
testing on the Imperial ships was finished. If this one
had gone off like the others, nobody would have known who
had made that bombing run out on the Dune Sea."
"Interesting." The Q'nithian's beady gaze flicked
from the sphere to Dengar's face. "Perhaps there is
reason to believe that Kuat of Kuat wishes Boba Fett
dead-if Fett is alive at all. But that leaves many other
questions unanswered."
"They'll have to remain unasked, too. For the time
being." Dengar leaned back on his side of the booth,
tucking the metal sphere back inside his jacket. "I don't
have time to give you a full rundown on everything that's
happened out there. Some things you're just going to have
to take on trust,"
"Trust?" The gray feathers rose again in a shrug.
"That ... is a variable commodity, my friend. Like so
many other things. And it has its price."
"Which I've already paid," said Dengar. "With more to
come into your pocket. If everything goes as planned. You
can puzzle over the answers to your unasked questions
later, if you'd rather do that than count your credits."
"Counting my credits," said the Q'nithian, "is a
favorite avocation of mine. But there's one question that
I still must ask now. You wish to inform the rich and
powerful Kuat of Kuat that, despite all his efforts to
the contrary, Boba Fett yet lives. When Kuat comes and
finds you, as he undoubtedly will . . . and as I presume
is your intention that he should . . . then what?"
Dengar remained silent. That's a good question, he
thought to himself. One that he'd been working on during
the whole long ride from the Dune Sea into Mos Eisley. A
dangerous question as well, since he was now sneaking
around behind the back of one of the deadliest
individuals in the galaxy. If Boba Fett were to find out
that he was being two-timed-which was what contacting
Kuat of Kuat amounted to- then Dengar's life wasn't worth
the smallest coin in the pouch inside his jacket. Still,
mused Dengar, I've got to look out for myself. If not for
his own sake, then for that of Manaroo as well; he was
still betrothed to her. His decision to send her away, to
keep her at a safe distance from this unsavory business
into which he had fallen, was something that still
produced mixed feelings in his heart. Dengar missed her
terribly, as though a living part of himself had been
excised without the benefit of anesthesia, a wound that
could never heal. But I had to do it, Dengar told himself
again. Getting involved with the fate of Boba Fett in any
way was too dangerous- and the life expectancy of those
who had put their trust in him was on the short side.
Fett's offer of a partnership between the two of them
still worried Dengar. Now that Boba Fett had just about
recovered completely from his time in the Sarlacc's gut-
and had gotten nearly all of his old strength and skills
back-how long would he have any use for another bounty
hunter cutting in on his action? He's always been a lone
operator-the suspicion that that hadn't changed for Boba
Fett was sharp and nettlesome in Dengar's mind. Fett
could be playing him for a fool, the way he had done to
others; a lot of those had survived only long enough to
regret trusting a barve like that, and then they'd been
the merchandise that Boba Fett dealt in. Or ashes, or
even less.
None of those were fates that Dengar wanted for
himself. So it's all a matter, he told himself again, of
who sells out the other first. And as a purchaser,
somebody as rich and powerful as Kuat of Kuat had some
definite advantages. Not only in terms of the price that
could be paid, but also in the protection he could give.
It had only been a fluke that the bombing raid hadn't
reduced Boba Fett to dust and disconnected atoms; the
next effort that Kuat made would be even more severe. I
could get the credits, though Dengar, and there would be
nothing that Boba Fett could do about it. Because he'd be
dead.
The shining bead eyes of the Q'nithian seemed to have
read his thoughts. "It's a dangerous game you're
playing," the Q'nithian remarked.
"I know that." Dengar slowly nodded his head. "But
it's the only one I've got."
There were a few more details to settle, and he and
the Q'nithian took care of them. Dengar knew that Boba
Fett was planning on getting off Tatooine; that would
make it difficult, if not impossible, for Kuat of Kuat to
get back in touch with the sender of the message about
Fett's still being alive. So the Q'nithian would also act
as the contact point; that meant he would also get a cut
of whatever payment Kuat made for the necessary
information of Boba Fett's whereabouts.
"So when will you be sending off the messenger pod?"
Dengar worked at securing the fastenings of his gear.
Even from inside the windowless cantina, he knew that
night had settled in on the Dune Sea. It would be a long
cold journey on the exposed saddle of the swoop to get
back to where he had left Boba Fett and the girl Neelah.
"The sooner you send it, the better."
"Don't worry," soo
thed the Q'nithian. He folded his
bifurcate talons on top of each other, with the
magnifying lens laid flat on the table. "It will be on
its way to Kuat, both the planet and the man himself,
within a matter of hours."
"Great." Dengar slid out from the booth. "I'll be
checking to make sure that it gets there."
He stopped inside the same arched doorway by which he
had entered the cantina. The place was packed now; it had
taken some effort to squeeze his way among the various
off-planet anatomies that frequented this dive. At the
side of the cantina's central area, the jizz-wailer band
had set up on the little stage they always used; their
clattering, wailing racket had already added another
layer of noise above the mingled conversations. Nobody
ever actually listened to the music, but it provided a
useful acoustic cover for the various business dealings
that the cantina's patrons wished to keep private.
Dengar moved up the short flight of steps that led to
the street level outside. From the doorway's arch, he
could see across the heads of the crowd, all the way back
to the booth where he had left the Q'nithian. Even if he
hadn't been in shadow, the Q'nithian's weak eyesight
would have ruled out his being spotted as he watched and
waited. Several minutes passed, and he didn't see the
Q'nithian get up from the booth, and none of the other
creatures in the cantina joined him there, either. Dengar
figured that was a good sign; if the Q'nithian was going
to sell him out, stab him in the back by passing on the
information about Boba Fett to some other interested
party in the cantina, the creature would have done so
immediately. That way, some bunch of thugs could have
jumped him before he'd had a chance to get out of Mos
Eisley, then painfully extracted the other bounty
hunter's location from him.
He was jostled a few times by other creatures
entering the cantina before he finally decided that the
Q'nithian was staying on the up-and-up with him- or at
least as much as he could reasonably expect from one of
Mos Eisley's shadier denizens. Dengar turned and headed
up the rest of the steps. A few seconds later he was
threading his way through the spaceport's dark alleys. He
had one more errand to take care of-the one on which Boba
Fett had sent him here-before he could return to the
hills on Mos Eisley's outskirts, where he had left the
