“But… but look at the chance you’re taking.” The gears of Bossk’s thoughts slowly started moving again. “I don’t have what you’re talking about right here on me. You think I’d carry stuff like that around? No way.” Bossk shook his head vigorously. “I’ve got it well hid, someplace where nobody else would be able to find it.”
“Whatever’s been hidden can be found again.”
“Maybe so,” said Bossk, “but not without a lot of searching. And that would take time. Time that you don’t have right now.” His words started coming faster. “You said yourself, just a couple minutes ago, that you came here to Tatooine in a hurry. That must mean you’ve got to get your hands on that stuff real quick. You kill me now, and that’s not going to happen. You’ll be stuck here in Mos Eisley, rooting through every possible place I could have stashed the goods. And maybe you won’t ever find it. Think about that.” Bossk gave a quick nod, his own fanged muzzle almost brushing that of the blaster being held on him. “Then what’ll you do? You won’t be getting any help from me, if I’m already dead.”
“Good point.” The blaster pistol remained where it was, unwavering in Boba Fett’s grip. “But not good enough. Do the math, Bossk. If I kill you now, I might indeed have only a small chance of finding what I came here for. But all your chances will be over. What’s inconvenient for me will be terminal for you.” Boba Fett’s finger rested upon the trigger, a centimeter away from unleashing its fire. “There’s nothing left to discuss. So what’s it going to be?”
The darkly shining metal in the other bounty hunter’s hand mesmerized Bossk. He had looked straight at death before-in the bounty hunter trade, it was a regular occurrence-but never with as much certainty as now. The pulse in his veins seemed to stop, along with time itself; all the rest of the cantina faded away, along with its whispering voices and watching eyes. The universe seemed to have contracted, down to the width of the booth’s table, holding nothing but himself and the helmeted figure across from him, with the blaster as the pivot of gravity between them.
“All right…” Bossk’s throat had gone as dry as the Dune Sea, somewhere out in that vanished world surrounding the booth. “I’ll…” The next words caught in his throat, as though they were too big to dislodge. “I’ll go ahead and …” His hands drew into fists, claws digging ragged parallel grooves in the table’s surface. For a moment longer, Bossk remained paralyzed, then he found himself slowly shaking his head. “No, I won’t,” he said flatly. “I won’t do it.”
“What did you say?” The blaster didn’t move, but a minute fraction of surprise sounded in Boba Fett’s voice.
“You heard me.” Bossk’s heart was racing now; his vision blurred with the increased pressure for a moment, then he managed to bring Boba Fett’s image into focus again. “I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to give you the stuff I found inside that droid.” He raised his hand from the marks his claws had dug into the table and spread them wide, making an additional target out of his chest. “Go ahead and fire. I don’t care.” A certain exhilaration came with those words; Bossk felt absolutely free for the first time in his existence. “You know … I just realized something. That’s how you always won before,” he marveled aloud. “It was because you didn’t care. Whether you lived or died, or whether you won or lost. So you always wound up surviving, and you always won.” Bossk slowly shook his head, admiring his own sudden insight. “That’s amazing.”
“Spare me.” The dark-visored gaze remained as steady as the blaster in Boba Fett’s hand. “I won because I had more firepower-and brainpower-than you or anyone else did. That’s what matters. Nothing else.”
“Yeah, well, not this time.” Bossk found himself smiling with genuine pleasure, even though he knew he might very well be enjoying the last few seconds of his life. “You know, I really should’ve figured this out before. I’ve been in plenty of tight spots, where I was looking death straight in the face-like when Governor Desnand was planning on peeling my skin right off me-and I always managed to fight or bribe my way out of them. I even managed to steal the Hound’s Tooth back from Tinian and Chenlambec, and that took some doing, believe me. And then to have you steal the Hound away from me …” Bossk slowly shook his head. “Crazy business, huh? Not surprising that I never figured out what it all meant. At least until now.” Bossk gestured at the blaster in Boba Fett’s hand. “So you got the firepower, all right, for all the good it’ll do you. Go ahead. Shoot.”