"First," said Boba Fett," we'll need some concrete proof that you're willing to kill your partners. Some kind of proof that Voss'on't will regard as impressive. You'll never be able to get into his confidences unless we have that."
Why anybody would doubt the murderousness of a Trandoshan was beyond Bossk. His species had conclusively demonstrated its violent tendencies all through the galaxy. And proud of it, he thought. Who wouldn't be?
"What did you have in mind? Unless" -one corner of Bossk's fang-lined mouth lifted in an ugly version of a smile-" you were planning on having me kill you right now." He nodded, as though pleased with the idea." That would probably work."
"I told you-I don't joke around." A laserlike glare seemed to emerge from behind the helmet's dark visor." I'd appreciate it if you took this seriously as well."
"Okay, okay; sorry." Bossk held out both his palms, as though fending off a blow." So what are we going to do?"
"We need proof-real hard proof-that you're serious about betraying your partners. So we need one more partner, just for the purpose of giving us that proof."
"Another partner?" Bossk scowled." I don't feel like cutting in anyone else on this deal."
"We won't be cutting anyone else in. That's already been taken care of." Boba Fett rose from the bench on which he'd been sitting." Come over here. I told you outside that I had something to show you. Something that you'd find interesting."
Bossk followed the other bounty hunter over to the storage lockers at the hold's other side. He watched silently as Boba Fett punched a key sequence into the pad beside one of the square locker doors. A red light flashed and the drawer slid open.
"Take a look at this." Boba Fett grasped the edge of a cloth sheet covering some large, uneven object." This is all the proof you'll need." He pulled the cloth aside, revealing what was underneath.
"What the-" Startled, Bossk gaped at the figure lying face upward in the drawer." Zuckuss!" The insect-like face, with its immense goggling eyes and intertwined breathing tubes, was as familiar to him as his own. Bossk looked over at Boba Fett." What happened to him?"
The sound of Zuckuss's name being spoken aloud hadn't caused the figure in the drawer to stir. The round, glassy eyes continued to stare upward at the hold's metal ceiling.
"Simple," said Fett." It's all part of the plan. We needed a dead bounty hunter, someone that you can tell Trhin Voss'on't was part of our team. So I provided one."
The unemotional coldness of Boba Fett's explanation amazed Bossk. It really is all business with this barve, he thought. No wonder he's on top of the bounty hunter trade." He's dead?" Bossk pointed to the unmoving figure." Really dead?"
"See for yourself."
Bossk leaned down closer to the unmoving object in the drawer. He didn't feel sorry for Zuckuss-pity was another emotion foreign to Trandoshans-but at the same time, there was an odd trace of regret in seeing him like this. There was no sense of friendship or other tender feelings wasted among bounty hunters, but Zuckuss had been part of the team on the Circumtore job. Things had gone badly enough then that Bossk had felt like killing Zuckuss. . . but he hadn't. And to realize that Boba Fett had done so, as a matter of cold and hyperrational business practice, part of his scheme for bringing in this renegade stormtrooper-that didn't sit right with Bossk. To kill in anger was one thing, even a fine and noble thing. But Boba Fett's way of doing it without emotion struck him as essentially. . . evil. That's it, realized Bossk. He had rarely, if ever, meditated so deeply on a moral issue. That's it, exactly. And now here he was, teaming up with Boba Fett. The implications of that were something he didn't want to think about, now or ever.
Automatically, to keep his thoughts safely submerged, Bossk went about verifying Zuckuss's death. Checking the body's neck, where the most visible blood vessels were located, he found no pulse; at the filtered openings of the breathing apparatus, where the exterior tubes looped toward the chest, no signs of respiration were detectable. The latter convinced Bossk more than anything else; one of the more irritating things about Zuckuss, when he'd been alive, had been the slight, constant noise that went with his inhaling and exhaling. Won't have to hear that anymore, thought Bossk.
"He's dead, all right." Bossk straightened up from his examination of the corpse." If what you wanted is evidence to show Voss'on't that bounty hunters are getting killed, then you sure got it." The only problem was that the cover story that went with the corpse had it that Bossk himself had killed Zuckuss. He preferred taking the credit only for his own violence. That raised another question in his mind." How am I supposed to have killed him? He looks in pretty good shape. I mean. . . considering everything. Usually if one of us Trandoshans knocks somebody off, they really show it."
"Tell Voss'on't you suffocated him." Boba Fett pointed down to the corpse's face." With those exterior breathing tubes, it's a relatively easy thing to do."
Bossk glanced over at Boba Fett. That must be, thought Bossk, how he did it. Just like that; cold and effective." And why did I do it? What's the line going to be on that?"
"Just as you said before-you didn't feel like splitting up the credits with any more partners than necessary. I've already started the story in circulation about Zuckuss teaming up with you and me; it's probably already reaching Voss'on't's ears by now. So when we track him down, and you talk to him, you can feed him the rest of the line."
"Which is?"
"That you don't feel like splitting the credits with me, either." Boba Fett punched the bulkhead-mounted control pad again, and the drawer slid back, taking Zuckuss's lifeless body with it." And that you've figured out that you'll do better financially if you sell me out to Voss'on't rather than sticking with me as a partner. After all" -Fett turned back toward Bossk-" I'm not as famous for being trustworthy as I am for other things. Am I?"
It took Bossk a while to figure out whether or not Boba Fett was breaking his ban on joking around while doing business. If it was a joke, it made him as uneasy as seeing Zuckuss laid out dead. I'm in deep here, thought Bossk as he gazed into the dark visor of Boba Fett's helmet. He was beginning to wonder exactly how deep.
"No," said Bossk slowly." I guess you're not. . ."
"Then it's settled." Boba Fett punched a control sequence into the pad on the forearm sleeve of his Mandalorian battle armor. On the other side of the ship's hold, the hatchway irised open." We're partners." Outside, night had filled the dry marine trench of what had once been Gholondreine-B's planet-girdling ocean." And we have a plan. Don't we?"
"Right." Bossk's nod was just as slow." We sure do. . ."
All the way back to his own ship, the Hound's
Tooth, waiting at the other end of the trench, he could feel the yellow eyes of the centipedelike creatures in their bore holes, carved into the cliffs towering in darkness above him. Bossk knew it was only his imagination if he thought he could hear them laughing at him.
11
This is easy, thought Bossk. Almost too easy. . .
As if such a thing were possible. The Trandoshan bounty hunter felt a surge of gloating pleasure, welling up from the depths of his gut, as he sat at the rickety table, his claws wrapped around a chipped stoneware mug. Whatever gratification he felt hadn't come from the mug's contents, a sour inebriant that had briefly numbed the tongue behind his fangs when he had sipped it. This watering hole's drinks were both strong and disgusting.
"We could take him now," growled Bossk under his breath." Why don't we just go ahead and do it?"
He was alone at the table. The voice that answered his question sounded from deep inside his ear. Trandoshans, as a species, lacked external pinnae such as most humanoids had; beyond the small aperture of his ear canal, a cochlear micro-implant device had been precisely inserted with the point of a surgical needle. That piece of equipment had been just one of the preparations for this job.