She lowered the blaster, her finger loosening upon the trigger. "You win," she said.
"Of course." No more emotion sounded in Boba Fett's voice now than before. "There was little doubt of that. You might not know who you really are—and I might not know, either. That's something you haven't de-termined. But I still know more about you; I know how your mind works." A gloved forefinger tapped the side of his helmet. "You have to win here—" Shifting for-ward in the pilot's chair, Fett reached out and set the same fingertip lightly on Neelah's brow. "And here, be-fore you have a chance of winning anywhere else. Or even surviving."
"That's why the others lost, I suppose." As Boba Fett had drawn his hand away, Neelah gave a slow nod of her head. "Like Bossk. You were able to take his ship away from him, just because of what you were able to do in-side his head."
"Exactly," said Fett. He reached out again, taking the blaster pistol from Neelah's hand. It rested on his palm, an inert object. "Something like this ..." The shoulders of his Mandalorian battle armor lifted in a shrug. "It just makes things final. Sometimes. But by then, the battle is already over."
There was a certain wisdom in Boba Fett's words; Neelah knew that these were true as well, like the other things he had told her. "Why do you bother?" She peered toward the gaze hidden behind the dark visor. "Nobody ever said you were a creature of words; someone who would explain the reasons why he would do anything." Back in Jabba's palace, there had been henchmen of the Hutt who had claimed that Boba Fett was a creature of silence; they had never heard him speak even a single word. She didn't know if those thugs had been stupid or lucky. When somebody finally did hear Boba Fett speak, there was usually a reason for it, and one that was rarely to the listener's advantage. "So why are you telling me all this?"
"You're a reasonable creature," said Fett. "There are few such in the galaxy. In this, you and I are more similar than different in nature. Most sentient creatures are only partly so; they think a little, but then are governed by their emotions. The emotions I seek to produce in them are fear and helplessness. Then they're easier to deal with. But you, on the other hand ..." He gave a slow nod, as though carefully weighing his words. "It's differ-ent with one of your kind. First there is emotion—anger, frustration, the desire for revenge—all those things that you have yet to learn to control. But then your reasoning ability, your capacity for logic kicks in. Cold and analyti-cal, even about the things that matter the most to you. Even about your own lost identity. To be cold about other creatures' fates—that comes easily to most worlds' denizens. But to be cold about one's own self ..." His nod this time was more approving. "That's something I recognize. And that I have to treat differently from the other creatures I encounter."
Neelah wondered if this was more of his mind-gaming, another attempt to control her from within. "What hap-pens if you don't? Treat it differently, I mean."
"Then the possibility is raised of my losing the bat-tle." Boba Fett's hidden gaze stayed locked upon her face. "Though not the war, of course."
"What do you mean?"
"Simple," replied Fett. "You're valuable enough to me that I prefer to keep you alive. And . . . cooperative. It's easier to get that from you outside of a cage. But at the same time, I know the dangers of letting you keep a measure of freedom." He handed the blaster pistol back to her. "If those dangers were to become too great—then I'd have to eliminate you. As quickly, and as definitely, as possible."
Neelah regarded the blaster pistol in her hand for a moment, then finally tucked it back in her belt. When she raised her eyes, she looked past Boba Fett, to the star-filled viewport of the cockpit. Somewhere out there was the world from which she had come, that was now lost to her along with so much else. Perhaps, she mused, per-haps they've forgotten my name was well...
And if that was true . .. then she had nowhere else to go. The ship that surrounded her might be the only world she had left.
She brought her gaze around again to Boba Fett. "You'll have to forgive me," said Neelah. She managed a thin smile. "For being a little concerned about this mys-terious destination of ours. But you were the one who told me about all the big events shaping up—out there." One hand pointed toward the viewport.
"About the Im-perial forces gathering . . . some place named Endor." Even the name of the moon seemed fraught with dire portent. "You said it might be a decisive battle; maybe the one that ends the Rebel Alliance." She shook her head. "I came close enough to that struggle between the Empire and the Rebels, back on Tatooine." Bit by bit, Neelah had pieced out the significance of Luke Sky-walker and Princess Leia Organa having been on that remote backwater world. She had seen them both in Jabba's palace, along with their companion Han Solo— first frozen in a block of carbonite, then released and brought to life again. They had been responsible for the death of Jabba, she knew, which she also figured had been a stroke of good luck for herself; escaping from Jabba's clutches and staying free were two different things, at least as long as the Hutt had still been alive. She might owe them, and all the rest of the Rebels, her sur-vival—but that wasn't enough to get her involved with any of them again. "I don't," said Neelah decisively, "want to get near them. They've got their war; I've got mine."
"Don't worry." Boba Fett glanced over his shoulder at the viewport, then back to her again. "That's something else we've got in common. Rebellions are for fools; I deal with the universe as it is. So we're not going anywhere near Endor." He slowly shook his head. "Let them battle it out. And whoever wins . .
. it'll make no difference. Not to creatures like us."
She found a measure of comfort in his words. Though not without sensing the irony of accepting the wisdom of someone who would kill her, or cash her in to the highest bidder, if it suited him. It's all business, thought Neelah. Nothing more than that.
"Leave me," said Boba Fett. He swiveled the pilot's chair back toward the cockpit controls. "I have other things to take care of."
Neelah realized she had nothing more to say. He had won again. Before she'd even had a chance to make a move.
She turned away, stepping through the hatch and then starting down the ladder to the ship's cargo hold.
He smiled when she saw Neelah coming down the lad-der. "Sounds like we've got something in common also," said Dengar. "You didn't have any luck with him, either."
The resulting scowl on the female's face amused him. "What do you know about it?"
"Come on." From where he sat against one of the hold's bulkheads, Dengar pointed to the open panel and the same comm lines that Neelah had tapped into. "More than one can play that kind of game. I heard everything both you and Boba Fett said up there."
"Good for you," Neelah said sourly. She sat down with her back against the opposite bulkhead.
"Congratu-lations—now you know as much as I do. Which isn't much."
"Actually... I do know a little more than you."
Neelah's brow creased in puzzlement. "You found out something? About where we're going?"
"Of course not." Dengar shook his head. "If Boba Fett wants to keep quiet about his intentions, at least I'm not stupid enough to pry into them. But that's the future; that's what is going to happen, and right now we don't have any say about that. I guess that's just how things are when you accept a partnership with Boba Fett." Leaning back against the bulkhead behind him, Dengar spread his hands apart. "The past, though—that's another thing. Now that, I do know something about."