[Boba Fett] - 3(23)

“Why is your uncle not here?” asked San Hill in a soothing but irritated tone. He looked angry and impatient. “I wish to do business with Jabba himself, not some underling!”

“Gorga is not an underling!” boomed the Hutt. His tiny arms beat against his vast slimy chest. “My uncle is busy tending to our interests on Tatooine. If you desire, you may visit him there. But I would advise against it,” Gorga added with a long, rolling laugh.

Boba grimaced. So this was Jabba’s nephew! He had a hard time imagining something more repulsive than Gorga. But it seemed like he would have to, until he could see Jabba himself.

Boba felt a stab of disappointment and nervousness. He had hoped that Jabba would be here, to give him the advice - the knowledge - that his father had said the old crimelord possessed.

But Jabba was not here. He was on Tatooine.

I have to get to Slave I, Boba thought grimly. I have to get to Tatooine.

He had wasted enough time here in the Undercity. He had the information he needed about his father’s fortune. It was in the Kuat Bank vaults on Level Two. He had his card. Slave l was waiting for him, back on Level One. All he had to do was get to the bank, get his credits, and he would have enough to get off of Aargau, and on to Tatooine.

Just the thought of flying again made Boba feel better. He would trace his way back through the tunnel, back to the trapdoor. He’d figure out a way to open it again and climb out. Then he’d figure out how to get back to Level Two. He’d come this far on his own, right?

He could do it.

As silent as a shook, Boba began to inch away from the grill. Then he turned and started running back up the tunnel. It curved and curved, and once more Boba saw all those side passages, black and yawning like huge mouths.

Don’t look at them. Keep your eyes on the tunnel!

Ahead he could just make out the sliver of light that fell from the trapdoor. He began to run even faster

And suddenly, he stopped.

“No!” he whispered.

In the middle of the passage, something was crawling toward him. It was more than a half-meter long, with many black, jointed legs and a long, jointed body. Two long, clacking pincers were raised above its mandibles. Its small beady red eyes were fixed on Boba, and its jaws clashed together as it skittered toward him.

A kretch!

Boba kicked at it. He heard its claws clack, then felt them brush against his leg as it lunged for him. He jumped to one side, but the kretch was too fast - it followed, brushing up against his boot.

Boba kicked it again. This time he felt a satisfying thump as his foot connected with the scorpionlike creature. The kretch went flying, and with a loud crack struck the tunnel wall.

But now Boba heard more sounds - other small, clacking creatures skittering up the passage.

He turned to race toward the trapdoor

And ran right into a tall figure. It was a man, wearing the same drab gray uniform as the guards he had seen surrounding San Hill in Gorga’s hideaway.

But this man was no guard or underling. He wore the dress uniform of a high-ranking official in San Hill’s employ, a broad decorative belt, and an expression that was equal parts suspicion and command. He smiled grimly down at Boba.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.





CHAPTER NINETEEN


Boba stared at the official in dismay. Behind him the kretch insects chattered and clacked. He glanced down at them. Then he grabbed Boba by the arm, turned, and pressed his own hand against the wall. Immediately, a hidden door opened. The official pulled Boba after him. The door closed as the kretch insects hissed and chittered, furious at losing their prey.

“So.” The man gazed down thoughtfully at Boba. “It seems we do have a spy in our midst. But not a very careful one. Let’s get a look at you.”

He shone a torch into Boba’s face. The boy shaded his eyes with his hand as the man stooped to stare at Boba intently. He had long, reddish hair, a rugged face. A jagged scar ran from below one eye, across his cheek and to his chin.

“Who are you?” Boba ventured.

“Vice-chair Kos of galactic accounts,” the official replied. He held Boba’s Chin in his hand. Boba stared back at him defiantly, saying nothing. The man continued to look at him. Finally Kos shook his head. His eyes narrowed, as his expression changed.

“I know what you are,” he said. “You’re that Clawdite spy we heard about.” A slight, almost admiring, smile creased his face. “Disguised as a boy - very clever.”

Boba began to shake his head no. Then he stopped.

A Clawdite shapeshifter could look like anyone, or anything his size. The vice-chair thought he was Nuri!

“That’s right,” said Boba slowly. He looked warily up at the official.