He hadn't wasted any thought on the mysteries that had been so tantalizingly uncovered to him. If the rich and powerful Kuat of Kuat was interested in Boba Fett being alive or dead, so be it; Bossk might still be able to cash in by confirming it to the owner of Kuat Drive Yards. And if there was some connection between Prince Xizor, the Black Sun's hidden ruler, and the raid on the moisture farm at the Dune Sea's edge…the answers about that weren't going to come from Boba Fett. Bossk would make sure of that.
There had been just enough time to haul a sufficient quantity of high-thermal explosives over from the Hound's Tooth, conceal them in the holding cages of Fett's ship, and rig the remote triggering device. Then Bossk had sealed the entrance hatchway of Slave I, disconnected his own ship, and watched from his cockpit viewport as the other craft had sped planet-ward.
Now that ship was heading back into space, bearing its helmeted master. The speck of light had grown larger; another second, and Bossk would have waited too long. All regret was expunged from his heart. He pressed the button on the cockpit's control panel. Instantaneously, the ominous light was transformed into a ball of churning flame, surrounded by extinguishing vacuum. Radiant sparks, bits of heated metal no bigger than a human's hand, drifted away from the core of the explosion, the dust and atoms of the other ship.
Bossk leaned back in the pilot's chair, feeling ex hausted as the tension began to drain from his coiled muscles. That does it, he thought with relief. Boba Fett's dead now. For good…
No regrets; he knew it had to be done.
But one thing still puzzled Bossk as he gazed out at the emptiness between the stars.
Why did he still feel afraid?