[Boba Fett] - 4(18)

It was delicious.

“That’s great!” Boba said thickly through a mouthful.

Gab’borah nodded. “I know. In all the galaxy, I alone have the recipe - another reason Bib Fortuna will never let me come to serious harm.”

“Only you?” Boba licked his lips, savoring the last bit of sweetness.

“Yes.” Gab’borah turned away. His withered face grew sad. “I was going to leave the secret with my only child and heir, but…”

His voice trailed off. In one of the cages, a vrblther gave its weird yodeling roar. Boba rubbed his eyes. It was late. He needed to sleep. But first he had a question for Gab’borah.

“You mentioned a name before. Durge.” Boba made his voice sound casual. “Is he here?”

“Durge?” The old man suppressed a shudder. “A bounty hunter of terrible strength and destructive power.”

He reached to touch Boba’s helmet. “You should be very wary of him. Durge hates Mandalorians almost as much as he hates the Jedi. His body armor is tattooed with the symbols of Mandalorians he has slain.”

“Now I remember,” said Boba, pretending this was all new to him. He felt a chill, despite the hold’s hot, musty air. “He wanted to be the source for the clone army.”

Gab’borah looked at Boba with respect. “That is the rumor,” he said. “How is it you come to know this?”

Boba hesitated. Then he said, “Jango Fett told me.”

Gab’borah’s eyes grew keen. “Then you know that Durge rejoiced when Jango Fett was killed. His only regret was that he was not the one to deal Jango Fett his death blow.”

“Yes,” Boba said. His eyes watered. He fought to keep his voice steady. “I know.”

“You must also know then that your life will be in danger if Durge sees you.”

“I have been hired by Jabba the Hutt to be his bounty hunter,” Boba answered fiercely. “I am under his protection!”

Gab’borah shook his head. “Jabba has also hired Durge as his bounty hunter.”

The chef grasped the side of the berth and stared out at the crowded, stuffy hold. The Gamorrean guards were sprawled on the floor or swung in hammocks, snoring loudly. Two stood as sentries by the ladder that led to the upper deck. Gab’borah looked at them, then turned back to Boba.

“Ah, young warrior,” he said. “When it comes to Jabba the Hutt, there is no protection. There is no safety. There is only cunning and strength, if you are very, very lucky. And if you are not? Then there is only torment.”

The old man stepped from the berth. He crawled into a hammock hanging beside it.

“We will be at the palace before many more hours have passed,” he told Boba. “My advice to you now is to sleep. It is hard to be either cunning or strong if one is not well-rested.”

Sleep! Boba stared at Gab’borah in disbelief. How could anyone sleep in a stinking, crowded place like this?

But in a few minutes, he found he was taking Gab’borah’s advice.

It had been a very, very long day. At last, Boba slept.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Boba woke to a low growling sound. When he opened his eyes, he saw the vrblther staring hungrily at him from inside its cage. Its green eyes glowed balefully. Its long yellow teeth showed between black gums. Boba hastily sat up in his berth. The, vrblther’s mouth opened in a grin as it lowered its head back onto its claws.

Now what? Boba looked around. The hold was quiet, except for the snores of the Gamorrean guards on the floor. Beside the ladder, the two sentries sat with their heads bowed.

Sleeping on the job! I bet Jabba wouldn’t like that, thought Boba.

He glanced to where Gab’borah hung in his hammock, breathing heavily. Then Boba turned sideways in his berth, making sure no one could see him. He lifted his helmet.

Air! He couldn’t really call it fresh air, but it sure beat breathing through the visor. Boba rubbed his eyes. Grit and sand stuck to his fingers. He wiped them on the tunic. Then he carefully removed his book.

He set it on his knees and opened it. Words glowed on the screen-page: For knowledge you must find Jabba.

Boba’s finger hovered above the page. He touched a word.

Jabba.

Immediately the sentence faded and another screen appeared. Words filled it. Boba scanned them quickly, until he found what he was looking for.

Palace.

“Tell me,” Boba whispered. He pressed the

voiceover

command. Immediately his father’s voice began speaking to him. The voice was so low he had to strain to hear it.

“Jabba’s palace is built upon what was once a B’omarr monastery. At all costs, avoid the lower levels. That is where the prisons and dungeons are, and the lairs of pit beasts that have escaped over the centuries. The uppermost level is where Jabba’s most valued guests stay - as long as they are valued. The average guest ends up as a krayt’s dinner. Or a Sarlaacs’ lunch. Bounty hunters usually fare somewhat better, if they are successful. “