as it whipped itself around Bossk's ankle. Before it could sink the points of its fangs into his shin, he had clubbed it off himself with the butt of the blaster rifle. Another blow snapped the creature in two; the separate halves spattered a greenish-black ichor across the trench floor as they spun about in knotting contortions." Pleasant little things, huh? They're not even good to eat. Taste like recycled flange oil."
No reply came from Boba Fett. He had turned the gaze of his dark-visored helmet up toward the cliff face. What had been still and seemingly lifeless before now shimmered in the sunlight's flat glare with intertwining motion, like maggots in rotting flesh. The bolt from the blaster rifle had roused nests full of the many-legged creatures, exuding from holes chewed into the soft, crumbling stone. The sonic impact had been enough to startle the creatures on the other side of the trench as well; for a moment, the walls on either side of Bossk and Boba Fett crawled with coiling insectoid forms and hungry yellow eyes.
"Standard operating procedure for the Empire." Boba Fett displayed no signs of unease as the small shadows of the creatures wavered in the glare reflected from his helmet's visor." Especially when the Emperor's in his punitive mode. These things aren't native to this planet; they're a laboratory hybrid from an Ithorian root-source, genetically enhanced for a zero-moisture environment."
The dead creature had left a black smear on Bossk's boot. He bent down and wiped it off with his thumb-claw." The Empire seeded them here?" He straightened, looking up at the churning stone above him." What good are they?"
"They're not any 'good' at all," said Boba Fett." They exude bio-toxins with a molecular breakdown rate that can be measured in centuries. The levels eventually get high enough to kill them off as well. But by then the entire surface crust of this planet will be riddled with their poison-filled bore holes. There're some refugee colonies of Gholondreine-B natives on the surrounding system worlds, but they won't be coming back to their homeworld for a long time. Palpatine's seen to that."
Bossk felt slightly ill; he figured it was from the effects of having taken an exploratory bite of one of the centipede creatures. That'll teach me, he thought glumly. The thought of anyone deliberately concocting an unpalatable life-form irritated him; in Trandoshan philosophy, eating other creatures, including one's own species, was the whole point of existence, at least one worth living. Cold vindictiveness, such as the kind in which the Emperor indulged himself, didn't sit well with Bossk, either. Even reptiles had more of a capacity for hot-blooded, noble, and annihilating anger.
"You still want to talk business?" Boba Fett sounded amused by Bossk's apparent nausea." You look like you're about ready to lose your lunch."
"Don't worry about me," snarled Bossk." I sent for you to come here for a reason. We got a chance to make some major credits. Big-time stuff."
He hadn't seen Boba Fett in the flesh since they had both been back at the old Bounty Hunters Guild headquarters. The Guild had just started its process of falling apart, right after Bossk had killed his own father, Cradossk. He had been too busy since then, keeping his own faction of younger bounty hunters, the Guild Reform Committee, from splintering any further, to have paid much attention to Boba Fett's comings and goings. Even so, his suspicions had been aroused when Fett had vanished from the old Guild's headquarters, just as if he had finished the job he had been sent there to do. Bossk had heard a lot of rumors since then. The whispered accounts had it that Boba Fett had actually been responsible-intentionally so-for breaking up the Bounty Hunters Guild. Bossk couldn't quite figure out why Boba Fett would have wanted to do that. But if he had, Bossk decided, then he did me a favor. His father, Cradossk, would still be alive and running the show otherwise, and he'd still be waiting for his chance.
"What 'we' are you talking about?" Boba Fett folded his arms across his chest." I've already worked with you once. That's more than I'm in the habit of doing."
Boba Fett's lone-wolf reputation was well deserved; it was the main reason that Bossk had been so amazed and distrustful when Fett had shown up at the Bounty Hunters Guild headquarters and had applied for admission to the organization. But Boba Fett had gone in with Bossk and a couple of the other Guild members-Zuckuss and the droid IG-88-on a team operation. Fett had even brought in one more creature on the operation, the walking animate laser cannon called D'harhan. That had been some genuinely hard merchandise, out on the Shell Hutt world of Circumtore; most of the team had been lucky to get out alive.
As it was, for D'harhan it had been the end of the line. Which proved that teaming up with Boba Fett was not necessarily a good idea; Bossk had vowed to himself to never even consider it again. There were some situations that Boba Fett was willing to walk into, only because that barve was confident that he'd walk back out of them eventually. And if that meant the death of an associate from long ago, like D'harhan, then for Boba Fett that was a price he was more than willing to pay.
Time-and greed-had eroded Bossk's resolution, though. Just too many credits to pass up, he'd told himself. He'd learned his lesson about going in with Boba Fett on an operation like this: Watch your back. That would be easier, Bossk had figured, with just the two of them, instead of a whole team.
"Come on," said Bossk." Why don't we try to talk on a friendly basis?" The scaly muzzles of Trandoshan faces weren't designed for any kind of smiles, let alone ingratiating ones. In expressing positive emotions, Bossk was as handicapped as if he'd been wearing Boba Fett's dark-visored helmet." Things worked out pretty well the last time."
"You didn't think so then." Fett's voice was flat and emotionless." The way you carried on during that whole Circumtore job, I would have thought you had the last of any team operations."
"I changed my mind." Trying to talk another creature into something was way out of Bossk's line; he preferred threats and/or violence. But the chances of either one of those working with Boba Fett were well below zero." Besides-some jobs are just too big for one bounty hunter."
"Speak for yourself."
He had a good idea that Boba Fett knew what he was referring to. The word about this particular piece of hard merchandise had gone through the bounty hunter grapevine at close to hyperspace velocities.
"All right," said Bossk. He decided to drop any pretense of friendliness. That approach was obviously not working. Should've known, he thought grimly. This guy has always been durasteel-plated." Let's just approach it as a business deal. I got a good idea that you and me can pull this one off-if we work it together. Or we can go solo, and both wind up dead."
"As I said before-" Boba Fett didn't even bother giving a shrug." Speak for yourself."
Bossk could feel his own eyes narrowing into slits as his spine tensed with anger. The impulse to launch himself at the other bounty hunter, with his clawed hands going for Boba Fett's throat, was almost overwhelming. The only thing that stopped him was the certainty that while he was still in the air between them, he would already have a hole burnt by Fett's blaster rifle through his chest and out his back. He'd land at Fett's boots as a corpse.
"That does it." Why did I even bother? thought Bossk. This whole meeting was a waste of time. Boba Fett followed no creature's rules but his own." You go your way and I'll go mine. We'll see who gets killed first."
He turned on his heel and started back toward the waiting Hound's Tooth. Shadow had started to fill the dry marine trench, as Gholondreine-B's pallid sun shifted from its overhead zenith. On the trench's darkened wall, the yellow eyes of the centipedelike creatures glinted from their bore holes.
"Wait a minute." Boba Fett's voice called after him.