[Boba Fett] - 4(28)
“You sure came in handy,” he said. “Remind me that I owe Gab’borah for this.”
He lifted his helmet and wiped the sweat from his face. He was filthy, hot, and tired.
He was also very, very happy. He glanced up and down the alley to make sure no one saw him. He looked up.
No sign of Durge.
For now.
He turned. There was the doorway where he’d chased Ygabba. He took a deep breath. Then he pushed it open and went inside.
Darkness covered him like a cloak. Darkness, and cool air. Boba tapped his helmet, activating his infrared vision. Immediately, he could see.
Before him was a long tunnel. Eerie scarlet light glowed between the blackest shadows he had ever seen. He walked forward carefully. The floor was strewn with broken rubble. Bricks, empty water containers, remnants of food. Boba stopped and nudged something with his foot. He stooped to pick it up.
It was a label. The image of a fat Huttese face leered above a slogan.
GORGAL SPRINGS GENUINE PURE WATER
BESTINE’S FINEST
Ygabba had said the weapons shipment was hidden. It was inside a shipment from a moisture farm near Bestine.
It seemed ages ago, but he had only met Ygabba late yesterday. That was when she and the others had stolen the weapons. They would barely have had time to bring them here.
There would have been no time yet for Gilramos to claim his stolen goods.
He’s here, Boba thought. Right now - I can sense him.
His neck prickled with fear. He began to walk very slowly through the red-lit room. When he reached the tunnel entrance he stopped.
He listened.
He could hear voices. One voice was anxious and pleading. The other was low and sly. It was a voice Boba would know anywhere. It was a voice he wouldn’t trust for a nanosecond.
It was Gilramos Libkath.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
As silent as a breath, Boba entered the passage. As he walked the voices grew louder, until he could understand them.
“Master, we grabbed all we could. Then the guards saw him. I had no choice but to stop.
That voice was Ygabba’s. She sounded desperate… and afraid.
“That is not good enough,” someone hissed. Gilramos - the Neimoidian the children called Master. “There are very important people waiting for these illegal weapons - they aren’t sold anywhere but the black market, and the buyers are relying on me to fill the order. You know what happens when you fail.”
There was a sharp cry. Not Ygabba’s voice. It was the little boy, Murzz.
“Please don’t hurt me!” he whimpered.
Boba’s stomach tightened. Ahead of him a bright patch blazed - the entrance to the central chamber. He switched off his infrared vision so he could see better. He crept forward.
“You know the agreement we made,” Gilramos went on in his smooth, sickly voice.
Boba reached the opening. He crouched safely in the shadows. He stared inside.
In the center of the room stood the tall Neimoidian. His elaborate robes glowed purple and deep blue. His reptilian face was split by a sneer. At his feet sprawled a small figure - Murzz. Ygabba stood protectively beside him.
“Please, Master,” she begged.
Boba shaded his eyes, squinting.
Was this another virtual image of Gilramos Libkath? Or was it really him?
The Neimoidian leaned forward. He grasped Murzz’s shoulder. The boy cried out in fear and pain.
Boba’s fists clenched angrily.
It was truly Gilramos, all right.
The Neimoidian’s clawed hand tightened. His other hand gestured angrily.
“You have failed me! There are supposed to be seventeen cartons of weapons here! And how many do I see? Sixteen!”
Boba leaned forward to get a better look. Many crates were stacked around the perimeter of the room. Each had the same bright label.
GORGAL SPRINGS GENUINE PURE WATER
But some of the crates were open. And they did not contain water.
They were filled with weapons. Small missiles made with technology banned by the Republic.
Enough to outfit an army. And not an army of children, either. From the corner of his eye, Boba saw several battle droids, their armor gleaming in the shadows.
Boba jumped as Gilramos’s voice rang out commandingly. “Who am I, children?” he demanded.
In the room around him, numerous small figures stood. Each raised a hand. In each hand an eye glowed.
“You are our Master, Libkath,” the children said as one.
Gilramos nodded. “That is so. Who cares for you, children?”
“You do, Master.”
The eyes glowed brighter. In the darkness, the battle droids moved, raising their arms menacingly.
Some of the children whimpered. Murzz kicked angrily at Gilramos.
“Let me go!” he shouted.
Gilramos only clutched him tighter.
“Who gives you refuge?” he said.
“You do, Master,” repeated the children.