“Thul met with Fonterrat on the ancient world of Kuar. They presumably made the exchange and went their separate ways—but Bornan Thul never delivered the navicomputer to me. He must have figured out what he had been given, what the module contained, and so he chose to disappear. Thul never arrived at the Shumavar trade conference where we were to have consummated our deal.”
Nolaa folded her hands together, wearing a perplexed expression. “Oddly, he hasn’t gone to the New Republic either. Perhaps he assumes that the Diversity Alliance has infiltrated the government on Coruscant. And of course we have.”
She tapped her other fingers on the opposite arm of her chair. “Unfortunately, since Fonterrat didn’t trust me enough to make the deal directly, and since my human go-between betrayed me, I still haven’t retrieved the information I paid for. I had my joke on Fonterrat, though. In the sealed locker containing his fee, I placed one of his plague samples. As soon as he unsealed the time-locked box to study his reward, a device secretly cracked open the vial. Since Fonterrat was immune to the disease, he didn’t even know that his ship was full of the plague organism when he landed on the isolated human colony of Gammalin.”
Nolaa smiled, looking up at Hovrak with her rose-quartz eyes. “Everyone on Gammalin is now dead. Unfortunately, no one managed to leave the colony to spread the virus. The plague organism doesn’t survive long in open air without a host, and so Gammalin did not prove to be a proper flash point for the plague. Regrettable …”
The three spectators now came forward, eyes gleaming. The Trandoshan scooped up a few broken shards from the plague vial. He brought them to his blunt nose and sniffed with great interest.
“So how are we to obtain an adequate stockpile of this weapon to aid us in our fight against oppression?” Kambrea asked, brushing a hand across her smooth horns. “This was your last sample, and Bornan Thul has disappeared with the knowledge of where the rest is stored.”
“It is merely a setback,” Nolaa said. “I have offered a large enough reward that every bounty hunter in the galaxy is trying to bring Thul to me. He won’t be able to move anywhere without someone capturing him.”
She stroked her tattooed head-tail, feeling the tingle of response from her sensitive nerve endings. “It’s only a matter of time.”
10
In flight, Zekk spent days studying the Bounty Hunter’s Creed, memorizing its rules and practices as he wrestled with conflicting thoughts. He had so many questions, and so much to learn.
It seemed impossible to reconcile the desire to capture Bornan Thul with the fact that he had accepted an assignment from him, regardless of the fact that Thul had been disguised at the time. Zekk also remembered that in the rubble field of Alderaan he had promised to give Jaina any news of the missing man who was Raynar’s father….
Of all the hunters in the galaxy—Dengar and Boba Fett and a thousand others who were scouring the starlanes—he alone knew where Bornan Thul could be found. He had a meeting scheduled with his mysterious employer in less than a week, to tell him of his progress. At that rendezvous, Zekk could easily set a trap, deliver Thul to Nolaa Tarkona, and reap the fame and extravagant reward. How could he pass up such an opportunity?
But betraying his own employer would forever blacklist Zekk among bounty hunters. No one would trust him for the rest of his life. Jaina and Jacen would be angry with him, too. His situation seemed untenable.
He pondered the question while mulling over where to begin searching for Tyko Thul, the other half of the assignment he had accepted. Could he somehow take both bounty hunting assignments— find and bring back both brothers? Or would he have to make a choice? No matter how long he drifted in the Lightning Rod, he wouldn’t resolve his dilemma by himself.
He remembered hearing that Boba Fett had recently turned up on Tatooine in his own relentless search for Bornan Thul, and came to a decision. Since he was in the same sector, Zekk would go to meet the fearsome hunter who had proved an uneasy ally on the plague-ridden colony of Gammalin….
Fighting thermal updrafts, Zekk cruised under the harsh double suns down to the broiling city of Mos Eisley, the hub of civilization (such as it was) on this backwater world. Below him, the spaceport’s towers and low adobe structures shimmered in the afternoon haze.
Zekk requested clearance and transferred credits for a temporary berth in one of the low-rent docking stalls in the busy traders’ district. After he landed, he shut down his ship’s systems and activated the theft-prevention devices old Peckhum had installed … though the best deterrent had always been the Lightning Rod’s own battered appearance, which did not speak well for the fortunes of its owner.
Zekk stepped out of the dock only to slam into a wall of heat rising from the dusty streets. He tied his dark hair back in a sweaty ponytail and kept to the shadows of low buildings, seeking relief from the harsh sunlight as he staggered along. He breathed through his sleeve to filter out the worst dust as he looked for the infamous cantina.
The other creatures stirring in Mos Eisley’s afternoon seemed either stunned and lethargic or hurried and anxious to get into the shaded coolness indoors. Zekk, his green eyes stinging, wanted to do the same.
After making his way down narrow back alleys, he entered the noise and smells and blessed air-conditioning of the spaceport bar. The Mos Eisley cantina had a long history and quite a reputation, but little cleanliness or fresh air. In this dark and seedy bar, Luke Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi had first hired Han Solo and Chewbacca for their legendary run to Alderaan.
Boba Fett himself had come here in search of clues to help him ferret out Bornan Thul.
Behind the bar stood a grizzled old Wookiee named Chalmun, who owned the cantina. Other bartenders often took care of the actual work so that Chalmun would not have to mingle with his own disreputable clientele.
Zekk strode up to the bar, trying to look surly and tough, just like everyone else in the place. The old Wookiee snorted, seeing right through the young man’s act, as if he had witnessed these shows of bravado so many times that they no longer impressed him.
Zekk ordered a cold fizzy drink, then lowered his voice. “I’m looking for Boba Fett.”
The furry bartender chuffed with surly laughter. Zekk didn’t understand the Wookiee language very well, and Chalmun gestured toward a small hairy creature propped up on one of the stools.
The creature blinked its huge black eyes and spoke in a squeaking voice. “He laughs at your request,” the creature said. “Boba Fett always looks for other people. No one looks for him.”
“He and I have met before. I need to speak with him, and in return”—Zekk swallowed hard—“I can provide information that may assist him in his current assignment.”
“Boba Fett will be here,” the furry creature said. “Just drink and wait.” The creature took a long snort from a foaming green beaker, swallowed noisily, and said, “But you’d better keep drinking or Chalmun may throw you out into the streets. Hot out there.”
Eavesdropping, the Wookiee laughed and went off to serve other customers….
Zekk waited. The hours passed at a crawl, and he drank as slowly as he could get away with, ordering another beverage only when he saw the old Wookiee scowling at him.
On the bandstand a group of soft-skinned amphibious musicians with multicolored neck frills auditioned for a job. The song sounded like echoing belches made into a sensitive microphone, while “musicians” jangled high-pitched bells at random. On the cramped and dirty dance floor, two aliens that looked like sea urchins with far too many eyes rolled around locked in an embrace—whether dancing or brawling, Zekk couldn’t decide.