Though you wind up just as dead, thought Dengar, either way. And if Boba Fett had been lying and playing for time, back when Dengar had found him out there in the Dune Sea's wastes, the quickest way to dissolve any partnership would be to use Neelah as his cat's-paw.
Now I've got two that I've got to watch out for. That was another reason Dengar had wanted the female down here, rather than wandering around on the surface. He had his hands full as it was; he didn't need anyone else hooking up with Neelah, for whatever agenda they might have.
She might as well have read his thoughts. A thin smile appeared as Neelah regarded him. "You trust me?"
"Of course not." On that point, Dengar could afford to be honest with her. "I don't trust anyone." That was almost true; there was always Manaroo. But that was something different. "Nobody survives in this business by going around trusting creatures. Let's just say that I've got an idea of what to expect from you now. And if you're smart enough to play along with me, maybe you'll get what you want."
Neelah signaled her understanding with a quick nod.
"I still want to see him."
"That's easy enough," said Dengar. "But if you were planning on having any kind of talk with Fett, I don't think that's going to happen anytime real soon. He's still unconscious."
"Just as well." The thin smile faded from Nee-lah's face. "I changed my mind about that part. For now. I've begun to see the wisdom of your cautious attitude. Maybe it's better if he doesn't know about me. That I found him out in the Dune Sea, and that I'm here, waiting. As you pointed out ... whatever our connection is, it might not be exactly safe for me."
"Suit yourself." Dengar's caution went up a notch.
She's a fast learner, he thought. All the more reason to be careful. "Come on." He pushed himself away from the wall of the main chamber. "Let's go pay our guest of honor a visit."
The tall medical droid's appendages raised in warning as Dengar and Neelah entered the sub-chamber. "Please observe the necessary hygienic protocols." The chart of vital signs scrolled down the display on SHSl-B's cylindrical torso. "The patient's condition remains very critical-"
"Yeah, right." Dengar pushed the droid aside, away from the pallet in the center of the space. "This barve's survived worse things than your attentions. If you haven't managed to kill him, then nothing will."
Neelah stepped close to the side of the pallet and looked down at the unconscious form. "That's him?" She sounded almost disappointed. "That's Boba Fett?"
"No-" From the pile of gear in the sub-chamber's corner, Dengar picked up a battered helmet, etched with the digestive fluids of the Sarlacc's gullet. He turned the helmet's narrow-visored gaze toward Neelah. "This is Boba Fett."
She shrank back from the empty helmet, a sudden fear showing in her widened eyes. One hand tentatively reached out to touch the pitted metal, then jerked back as though scorched. She slowly nodded. "That's what I saw." Her voice was a barely audible whisper. "And I knew ... I knew it was him. ..."
"That's how everybody knows him." Dengar turned the helmet's blank visage toward himself. He could guess how the female felt; a little apprehensive chill ran down his own spine. "All through the galaxy." He nodded toward the figure on the pallet. "Not very many creatures have seen him like that. Or if they have, they didn't live to tell about it."
For a moment the only sound in the subchamber was the clicking and sighing of the cardiopulmonary assists that the medical droids had set in place. Then Neelah turned a somber gaze toward Dengar. "I did," she said quietly.
Dengar was unable to make a reply. The dark spaces in her eyes, and what might lie beyond them, unnerved him as much as the empty helmet. He turned away, to set it back down on the rest of Boba Fett's gear.
"Remember," said Neelah. "Don't tell him. Don't tell him anything about me."
By the time Dengar turned back around, the female had slipped out of the subchamber. He was alone with the other bounty hunter. The presence of the medical droids barely registered on Dengar's senses.
He stood looking down at Boba Fett for a while longer. The little trace of fear hadn't gone away; it was still there, inching along his spine. Even unconscious, this man was enough to spook ordinary creatures.
There's too much past, thought Dengar. Inside Boba Fett's skull; a whole galaxy full of it. Who could tell what was going on in there as he slept and dreamed his dark dreams?
about it."
For a moment the only sound in the subchamber was the clicking and sighing of the cardiopulmonary assists that the medical droids had set in place. Then Neelah turned a somber gaze toward Dengar. "I did," she said quietly.
Dengar was unable to make a reply. The dark spaces in her eyes, and what might lie beyond them, unnerved him as much as the empty helmet. He turned away, to set it back down on the rest of Boba Fett's gear.
"Remember," said Neelah. "Don't tell him. Don't tell him anything about me."
By the time Dengar turned back around, the female had slipped out of the subchamber. He was alone with the other bounty hunter. The presence of the medical droids barely registered on Dengar's senses.
He stood looking down at Boba Fett for a while longer. The little trace of fear hadn't gone away; it was still there, inching along his spine. Even unconscious, this man was enough to spook ordinary creatures.
There's too much past, thought Dengar. Inside Boba Fett's skull; a whole galaxy full of it. Who could tell what was going on in there as he slept and dreamed his dark dreams?
He couldn't believe his good luck.
"I've got him this time," said Bossk. He had upgraded both the firepower and the tracking abilities of the Hound's Tooth since his last unfortunate encounter with Boba Fett. The other bounty hunter snatching the accountant Nil Posondum away from him had been the final irritant underneath his scales; he had sworn to himself that if he ever got the chance, he would put his rival out of commission for good. And nothing will do that, thought Bossk, savoring the words, like blowing Fett to atoms. "When I get done, there won't be enough of him left to find without an electron microscope."
Beside him, Zuckuss leaned the hoses of his face mask toward the cockpit's target-acquisition screen. "I don't know. ..."
"What, you can't tell that it's Boba Fett ap proaching? Are you blind?" Bossk rapped a claw against the screen, hard enough to leave a permanent mark amid the glowing vector lines. "Of course it's him! There's all the identification data on the Slave I." A tiny column of numbers scrolled down from the triangular icon swiftly moving across the screen. "That's his ship, so he's aboard it."
"Oh, it's Boba Fett, all right." Zuckuss nodded slowly. "There's no doubt about that. I'm just not sure if you should-what's the phrase you always use?-'blow him away' right now."
Bossk angrily glared at the shorter bounty hunter.
"When's there going to be a better time?"
"Well, maybe when he's not traveling under an assurance of safe passage from your father." Zuckuss sounded even more doubtful and nervous. The breath in his air tubes rasped quicker and louder. "Boba Fett already contacted the Guild council-you know that-and Cradossk and the others gave him their word that he could dock at the perimeter station without anyone taking a shot at him."
"They gave him their word." The slits in Bossk's eyes narrowed. "They didn't give him mine."
"Still ..."
You little insect, thought Bossk. When he inherited the leadership of the Bounty Hunters Guild-he had already killed, as was Trandoshan custom, all of his father Cradossk's younger spawn-he intended to review the requirements for membership. A certain amount of guts, he figured, should be a prerequisite. Which meant that this sniveling partner that had been foisted on him would be out the air lock like the gnawed bones of yesterday's lunch.