There are some accomplished hunters in the Guild, with achievements nearly equaling your own. The Guild has been headed for many years now by the Trandoshan Cradossk; he was a legend among the stars when you were first starting out."
"So he was." Fett nodded once. "And now he is old and feeble, if still cunning. His offspring Bossk was one of those who got in my way as I was capturing Nil Posondum.
If the son were one tenth the bounty hunter that the father had been, I might have some competition. But he's not, and I don't. The Bounty Hunters Guild's glory days are long in the past."
"Ah, my dear Fett, I see that your opinions have not changed." Kud'ar Mub'at shook its dust-speckled head.
"You wield them like something that you've taken from that arsenal you carry on your back. I'll have to make it very much worth your while; expensively thus, to entice you into accepting this little job of mine."
Fett kept his helmet's featureless gaze on the as sembler. "Which is?"
"It's really very simple." Kud'ar Mub'at clicked the points of his forelimbs together. "I want you to join the Bounty Hunters Guild."
The assembler's compound eyes were not the only ones watching him. Boba Fett could sense the tiny crablike accountant and all the rest of the web's interconnected nodes, their overlapping vision feeding into the central cortex of their master and parent. They were all watching-and waiting for his answer.
"You're right about one thing," said Boba Fett.
Kud'ar Mub'at's eyes glittered even more brightly.
"Yes? What's that?"
His suspicions hadn't gone away; if anything, they were even sharper and harder. The simple jobs, he said to himself. Those are the ones you get killed on.
"This job of yours..."
"Yes?" The tethered subassemblies crept closer to Kud'ar Mub'at, as though the web itself were narrowing tighter.
Boba Fett gave a slow nod of his helmet. "It'll cost you." bright trail of an interstellar craft, dwindling among the wide-flung stars. A moment later the engine flare blinked out of sight, as the Slave I leaped into hyperspace and was gone.
"Your Excellency-" One of Kud'ar Mub'at's household nodes hesitated, then skittered closer and tugged at the hem of the ornate, heavy robes brushing the observation chamber's matted floor. "Your presence is now desired by your host."
Prince Xizor turned away from the viewport. His cold reptilian glance took in the trembling subassem-bly.
Perhaps, if he were to crush it beneath the sole of his boot, a shock of pain would flash along the web's neurofibers, straight into Kud'ar Mub'at's chitinous skull. It would be an experiment worth making; he had an interest in whatever might produce fear inside any of the galaxy's inhabitants. Someday, Xizor told himself. But not right now. "Tell your master," he said in a smooth, unthreatening voice, "that I'll be there directly."
When he entered the web's main chamber, he saw that Kud'ar Mub'at had settled its globular abdomen back into its padded nest. "Ah, my highly esteemed Xizor!" It used the same obsequious voice that he had overheard it lavishing on the departed bounty hunter. "I so very much hope that you weren't uncomfortable in that wretched space! Great is my mortification, my embarrassment that I should offer such-"
"It was more than adequate," said Xizor. "Don't fret yourself about it." He folded his heavily corded forearms across his chest. "I'm not always surrounded by the luxuries of the Emperor's court. Sometimes ..." He let the corner of his mouth lift in a partial smile.
"Sometimes my accommodations-and my companions-are of a rougher sort."
"Ah." Kud'ar Mub'at nodded quickly. "Just so."
The assembler knew better than to speak anything aloud of what his noble guest had just referred to. Even the two words "Black Sun," in as private a place as this, were forbidden. To make silence a general rule was to ensure that no one would discover the other side of Xizor's double existence. In one universe, he was Emperor Palpatine's loyal servant; in that universe's shadowed twin, he was the leader of a criminal organization whose reach, if not power, was as galaxy spanning as the Empire's.
"He took the job." Xizor said the words as a statement of fact, not a question.
"Yes, of course he did." Kud'ar Mub'at fussed nervously with the pneumatic bladders of his nest. "Boba Fett is a reasonable entity. In his way. Very businesslike; I find that to be of the utmost charm in him."
"When you use the word 'businesslike,' " noted Xizor,
"you mean ... 'can be bought.' "
"What other possible definition is there?" As Kud'ar Mub'at gazed at him, the assembler's eyes filled with innocence. "My so dear Xizor-we're all businessmen. We can all be bought."
"Speak for yourself." The partial smile on his face turned into a full sneer. "I prefer to be the one who's doing the buying."
"Ah, and so happy am I to be one of those whose services you have purchased." Kud'ar Mub'at settled itself more comfortably into its nest. "I hope this grand scheme of yours, of which I am so small yet hopefully an essential part, will turn out exactly as you, in your ineffable wisdom, wish it to."
"It will," said Xizor, "if you perform the rest of your role as well as you did with hoodwinking Boba Fett."
"You flatter me." Kud'ar Mub'at bowed its head low.
"My thespic abilities are regrettably crude, but perhaps they sufficed in this instance."
The assembler had had to be no more than its usual conniving self to set the trap in which the bounty hunter was already ensnared. One of the nodes in the central chamber was a simple auditory unit, a tympanic membrane with legs, tied like all the rest of the nodes into the web's expanded nervous system. From his hiding place, Prince Xizor had been able to listen in, another one of Kud'ar Mub'at's attached offspring whispering into his ear all the words passing between the assembler and Boba Fett. The web surrounding them wasn't the only one that Kud'ar Mub'at could spin. Fett was not aware of it yet, but strands too fine to be detected were already tangling about his boots, drawing him into a trap without escape.
Xizor almost felt sorry for the bounty hunter. The reptilian Falleen species was even more coldblooded than Trandoshans such as the aging Cradossk and his rage- driven offspring Bossk; pity was not an emotion that Xizor had ever experienced. Whether he was operating on behalf of Emperor Palpatine or secretly advancing the Black Sun's criminal agenda, Xizor manipulated all who came into his reach with the same nonemotion he'd display for pieces on a gaming board. They were to be positioned and used as necessity dictated, sacrificed and discarded when strategy required. Still, thought Xizor, an entity such as Boba Fett ... The bounty hunter merited his respect, at least. To look into that helmet's concealing visor was to meet a gaze as ruthless and unsentimental as his own. He'll fight to survive. And he'll fight well...
But that was part of the trap that had already seized hold of Boba Fett. The cruel irony-and one that Xizor savored-was that Fett was now doomed by his own fierce nature. All that had kept him alive before, in so many deadly situations, would now bring about his destruction.
Too bad, thought Prince Xizor to himself. In another game, a piece as powerful as that would have had it uses.
Only a master player would dare a strategic sacrifice such as this. To lose, however necessarily, such an efficient hunter and killer was his only regret.
"Pardon my admittedly clumsy intrusion." Kud'ar Mub'at's high-pitched voice broke into his musing. "But there are some other tiny, almost insignificant matters to be taken care of. To ensure the complete success of your endeavors, which are as always of such brilliance and-"
"Of course." Xizor regarded the assembler sitting in its animate nest. "You want to be paid."