"Don't play games with me." With one hand, Boba Fett reached out and grabbed the end of Kud'ar Mub'at's raised forelimb. He pulled the assembler partway out of its nest, bringing the triangular face closer to the dark vi-sor of his helmet. "If I say this is Trhin Voss'on't—then that's all the verification you need." His gloved hand tossed the assembler back onto the deflated subnode. "I didn't go to all the trouble that I did just to bring back the wrong piece of merchandise."
"Of... course ... not..." Kud'ar Mub'at slowly dis-entangled itself from its own unresponsive limbs. The effort caused a tremor to run through the assembler's body, its globular abdomen pulsating visibly.
"Would I doubt you ... my esteemed Boba Fett?" The assembler's head slowly shook back and forth.
"My faculties are not so damaged... as for that... to be possible." The lopsided imitation smile showed once again. "But I am not... the one... who is paying... for this merchandise ..."
"You're supposed to be holding the credits."
"And so ... I am ... but there's another involved ... and he decides when you get paid ..." Kud'ar Mub'at's smile turned even uglier. "And if... you do..."
Those words were not to Boba Fett's liking. His pref-erence was always for straightforward business deals, delivery of merchandise followed by prompt payment of the bounty. This deal had become far more intricate than that—though he already had a notion about who was behind these complications. That's why Prince Xizor showed up, decided Boba Fett. Somehow, it must have been the Falleen's credits, rather than Emperor Palpa-tine's , that got put up for the return of Trhin Voss'on't. And Xizor would rather kill me than pay me.
"It looks like... you're starting ... to figure out a few things ..." The halting words were tinged with Kud'ar Mub'at's sly laughter. The assembler had a knack for knowing what another sentient creature was thinking, even if it had to read those thoughts through the dark vi-sor of a Mandalorian battle-armor helmet. "About. . . what kind of job ... you took on..."
Another possibility occurred to Boba Fett. Maybe, he thought, the Emperor did put up the bounty. Voss'on't had been, after all, a servant of the Empire; the betrayal of his stormtrooper's oath would have been more of an af-front to Palpatine than anyone else. But the bounty that Palpatine had put up for him might very well have tempted even a creature with the vast resources of the Black Sun criminal organization at his command—such as Xizor. Or else Xizor wasn't interested in the credits for bringing back Voss'on't, but was more concerned about currying favor with one of the few beings in the galaxy more pow-erful than he. If Xizor was able to claim that he had tracked down and captured the renegade stormtrooper, his prestige at the Imperial court on the planet of Corus-cant , and his influence with Palpatine, would overshadow that of Lord Vader. Boba Fett was more than aware of the stories of bad blood between Xizor and Vader; there was little possibility of two such rivals for the Emperor's favor being anything other than enemies.
Whether Prince Xizor was after the bounty that had been posted for Voss'on't, or something more intangible and more valuable, made little difference to Boba Fett. If he plans on taking something from me, then he's made a mistake. One he'll regret...
"All I know," said Boba Fett aloud, "is that I've done the job that was put up. I don't care whether it was Em-peror Palpatine or Prince Xizor who was really behind it. I only work for myself. And I just want the bounty that was promised me."
"You poor fool." Kud'ar Mub'at's scorn appeared to reinvigorate the damaged creature. "You have no idea ... for whom you've been working... all along..." The one claw tip extended toward Boba Fett.
"You've been part of Xizor's schemes... and mine... for a long time now..."
From underneath Boba Fett's boot, the stormtrooper Voss'on't turned a sneer upward at his captor.
"How does it feel, bounty hunter? You're not the winner in this game—you're the pawn."
A thrust of the boot flattened and silenced Voss'on't again. "What are you talking about, Kud'ar Mub'at?"
"Very .. . simple ..." The arachnoid assembler fum-bled its sticklike legs tighter around itself. "Our little scheme... yours and mine... to break up the old Bounty Hunters Guild ..." Kud'ar Mub'at shook its narrow head. "That was Prince Xizor's idea ... I only went along with it... because he made it worth my while... but he's the one who wanted to break up the Guild . . . and you did that for him..."
"Then you lied to me." Boba Fett's voice was as emo-tionless as always, but inside him there was a spark of anger.
"A mere matter ... of business . . . my dear Boba Fett." In its crippled fashion, Kud'ar Mub'at imitated a nonchalant humanoid shrug. "That's all..."
"What else did you lie to me about?"
"You'll find out... soon enough..." Kud'ar Mub'at's smile didn't diminish as it gazed at Boba Fett, then turned toward one of the smaller fibrous corridors that branched off the web's central space. Another of the assembler's subnodes, a fully functioning one, scuttled out of the cor-ridor and onto the tip of its parent's feebly extended fore-limb. "Tell me ... my dear little Balancesheet ..." Another forelimb tenderly stroked the subnode's head, a miniature version of Kud'ar Mub'at's own. "Has our other guest... arrived ..."
Boba Fett recognized the subnode creature as the one that had always taken care of the financial details from Kud'ar Mub'at's business dealings. More than once, the tiny scuttling Balancesheet had paid out the bounty that had been held in escrow by its creator. The sharp intelli-gence that had always been discernible in the subnode was still visible there, completely undiminished, as though it had been unaffected by the neural overload resulting from the crash of Slave I into the web. That was a mys-tery, but one that Boba Fett didn't have time to wonder about now.
"The Vendetta is just now docking with us." As though to confirm Balancesheet's statement, a shudder ran through the rough structure around them; some-where in the distance, the sleek mass of Prince Xizor's flagship was linking up with the larger subnodes that al-lowed visitors to transfer over. "I have been in communi-cation with Xizor," said Balancesheet, perched on Kud'ar Mub'at's raised forelimb. "He informs me that he is greatly looking forward to our meeting."
"I imagine ... he is ..." Kud'ar Mub'at's other limbs twitched and its lipless smile widened. "All creatures of business . . . relish the successful conclusion ... of a project..."
"Then he and I have something in common." Boba Fett gave a quick nod. "Let's get this over with." He took his boot from between Trhin Voss'on't's shoulder blades and strode over to the mouth of the corridor leading to the docking area. From its holster, he drew out his blaster pistol.
Head still tilted to one side, Kud'ar Mub'at looked at him with alarm. "What... are you doing ..." In front of the assembler, Voss'on't managed to scrabble into a silting position, also watching Boba Fett. "This is... not necessary..."
"I'll tell you what's necessary and what's not." Care-fully and slowly, Boba Fett pointed the blaster's muzzle at Kud'ar Mub'at and Voss'on't in turn. "If you both want to live a little longer, you'll stay quiet." He raised the blaster up by the side of his helmet. "And not spoil this little surprise for Prince Xizor."
The footsteps against the web's resilient tangle of fibers, from several creatures coming down the corridor, were already audible. Boba Fett flattened himself against the side of the opening, blaster at the ready.
"Watch out—"
He had known that Voss'on't would try to warn Xizor as soon as the Falleen prince appeared. A quick bolt from the blaster pistol, hitting Voss'on't in the shoulder and knocking him back against the base of Kud'ar Mub'at's nest, served both to silence him and distract Xizor's at-tention. That gave Boba Fett the microsecond he needed to get an arm around Xizor's throat and put the muzzle of the blaster against his head.