And there's going to be a lot of buyers."
This Trandoshan also deserved credit, Boba Fett had to admit. Bossk might be a fool, and a particularly crass and bloodthirsty one, but he was sharp enough to discern at least one important thing about the nature of evil.
Which was that it always bred more of the same. More business for us, thought Fett. He felt no emotion about that, one way or the other.
"It's a simple matter, then, isn't it?" Boba Fett spoke his next thoughts aloud. "Of just making sure we get paid the price we want."
"You got that right. And that's why you came walking in here and asked to become a member of the Bounty Hunters Guild, isn't it? Not because things are changing out there"-Bossk waved his clawed and scaled hand, indicating the reaches beyond the mold-encrusted stone ceiling-"but because the Guild is changing. Or it's just about to. You've had it pretty easy for a long time, haven't you? Even when my father still had sharp fangs, he was never your equal in the bounty-hunter trade. None of those old creatures were. And as they got older all they really managed to do was get in the way of me and the other young hunters-the ones who would've given you a run for your credits, Fett. So you've really had the field all to yourself, haven't you? Must've been nice."
Fett gave a small shrug. "It hasn't been exactly easy."
"Yeah, but it would've been a lot harder if you'd had to deal with me." Bossk's eyes flashed angry fire as he jabbed the point of one claw into his chest. "If I'd been able to go up against you on some of those jobs, the way I really wanted to. You wouldn't have been raking in those big bounties, the kind that Jabba and the rest of the Hutts put up, if you'd had some real competition for them."
"Yes," said Fett. "If I'd had some real competition, it might have been different."
Bossk didn't pick up on the irony concealed in Fett's words. "That's all coming to an end, though, isn't it?
That's the real reason you're here. You know that my father and the rest of the Guild council is just about ready to have their bones picked clean. And that somebody else will be taking over. Somebody a lot harder and tougher, who isn't just going to let you walk off with all the easy credits."
"And that someone would be you, I suppose."
"Don't suppose with me, Fett. It's time for you and me to work some things out. You didn't come here just because you wanted membership in the Bounty Hunters Guild. You're here because you know it isn't going to be long before I'm running things. I can tell how your mind works."
"Is that so?"
Bossk nodded. " 'Cause it's so much like mine. You and me, we want the same things. Top price, and nobody getting in our way. But we've got to deal with each other." The last of the Trandoshan's smile faded. "As equals."
You idiot. "Negotiations between equals can sometimes be profitable. Or fatal."
"Let's go for a profitable one. Here's the deal, Fett." One claw raised, Bossk leaned forward on the stone bench. "There's no point in us tearing out each other's throats. Even if it would be fun. That just lets the old ones like my father stay in power for a while longer. And they've had their turn long enough. I don't feel like waiting any longer than I have to, just to get my chance."
"What do you want me to do about it?"
"It's not just what I want; it's what you want as well. Better you should get on my good side now, Fett, than have me for an enemy later on." The claw tip pointed to each of them in turn. "Let's be partners, you and me.
I know that's what you came here for."
"I see that I was correct when I said that you were a clever creature." Just not clever enough, thought Fett.
"Flatter me some other time, why don't you? After we've taken over the Bounty Hunters Guild." The fanged smile returned to Bossk's face. "When I slice up my father's carcass, I'll save you one of the best pieces."
"Don't bother," said Fett. "I'll be pleased enough knowing that I've accomplished what I came here for."
Whether Bossk would be as happy about it remained to be seen.
"I'm glad-really glad-that we're in agreement about this." Bossk stood up from the damp stone. He stepped close to Boba Fett, bringing his face to where it almost touched the visor of the helmet. "Because otherwise I would have had to kill you."
"Perhaps." Fett didn't draw away. "Though I think you're actually the lucky one. Look down here."
Bossk's slit-pupiled eyes widened when they glanced down and saw the muzzle of a blaster pressed against his abdomen. Fett rested his thumb on the weapon's firing stud.
"Let's get one thing straight." Boba Fett kept his voice level, stripped of emotion. "We can be partners.
But we're not going to be friends. I need those even less."
Bossk regarded the weapon for a moment longer, then lifted his head and barked a raw-edged laugh. "That's good! I like that." All the points of his fangs showed as he glared fiercely into the dark visor.
"You watch out for yourself, and I'll watch out for me. That's just the way I like it."
"Good." Fett slipped the blaster back into its holster. "We can do business."
As he stepped out into the corridor Bossk stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "And of course," he said slyly, "this is all a private arrangement, isn't it?
Between you and me."
"Of course." Boba Fett hadn't moved from the center of the space. "It'll work better that wa y."
For me, thought Fett, after the Trandoshan had stridden away, past the flickering torches. For you, it's another matter. The Twi'lek majordomo had other household duties as well. Chief among which was spying.
"Your son has just concluded a long conversation with Boba Fett." All the comings and goings in the Bounty Hunters Guild headquarters were observed by Ob Fortuna.
"From what I could tell, your son seemed rather pleased with the results."
"I'm not surprised." Cradossk's blunt claws fumbled with the catches of his ceremonial robes. The heavy fabric, with embroidery that depicted his species'
ancient battles and triumphs, was stained with the wine that had been spilled at the banquet. "Bossk gets his eloquence from me." He shrugged off the robes.
"Persuasiveness is a specialty of his."
"But aren't you concerned?" The Twi'lek's tapering head tails swung forward as he gathered up the robes.
"About what the two of them found to talk about?" He spread the robes out on a lacquered rack at the side of Cradossk's sitting room. "Your son has ... shall we say"-the Twi'lek's smile was a combination of nerves and obsequiousness-"a bit of a conspiratorial streak."
"Of course he does! He wouldn't be my son, oth erwise." Cradossk sat down on the edge of a canopied pallet and stuck his legs out. His claws ached from all the standing he'd had to do, giving toasts and welcoming the famous Boba Fett into the brotherhood of bounty hunters. "I don't expect him to take over the leadership of the Guild someday merely because he has a talent for killing sentient creatures."
The Twi'lek knelt down to unfasten the metal-studded straps laced between Cradossk's claws. "I think," he said softly, "that your son is rather eager to assume that leadership. Perhaps even ... impatient ..."
"Good for him. Keeps him hungry." Cradossk leaned back against a mound of pillows. "I know just what my son wants. The same thing I did when I was his age. Blood leaking through my fangs, and a pile of credits in my hand."