Brow creased, Xizor turned back to the viewport. He saw immediately what the comm specialist was referring to, even before the other man could manage an explanation.
“You see, Your Excellency… Boba Fett has maneuvered his ship so that it’s directly between ourselves and the web of Kud’ar Mub’at…”
The situation would have been obvious to any eye, let alone one as skilled in strategic matters as Prince Xizor’s. Beyond the image of the ship Slave I in the viewport, the larger mass of the arachnoid assembler’s drifting, self-constructed home and place of business could be seen, like a shabby, elongated artificial asteroid.
“To fire off any laser-cannon bolts now, Your Excellency, would be highly inadvisable.” The comm specialist had summoned up his last reserves of courage; his voice sounded a little less shaky. “Any evasive maneuvers on Boba Fett’s part might result in the bolts striking Kud’ar Mub’at’s web instead.” The comm specialist shrugged and spread his hands, palms upward. “Of course, that would be up to you to decide, as to whether to risk it or not. But given the ongoing business relations between Black Sun and the assembler-“
“Yes, yes; refrain from explanation.” Xizor irritably waved off the underling. “You don’t need to remind me about all that.” Sending a few laser-cannon bolts through Kud’ar Mub’at itself, and not
just
the assembler’s messily conglomerated web, would not have been any cause for grief; Xizor had already decided upon the elimination of this business associate, whose entangling concerns had grown so inconvenient. But to do so in this way, with all the repercussions that would follow from it becoming known throughout the galaxy that Black Sun had a short and fatal way with those that served them, would cripple Xizor’s further plans. Beyond that, the new ally that Xizor had slated to replace Kud’ar Mub’at was also inside the assembler’s web-Xizor had no intention of losing so potentially valuable a creature as Balancesheet, the crafty little accountant subnode that had declared its independence from it creator. “Hold your fire,”
Xizor instructed the weapons systems techs behind him.
The comm specialist had put one hand to his ear, listening to a subaudible message being patched through the cochlear implant inside his skull. “Your Excellency-” he said, looking up at Xizor. “Kud’ar Mub’at has made direct contact with us. He wishes to have a word with you.”
All I need, thought Xizor irritably. “Very well-put it through.”
He listened to Kud’ar Mub’at’s high-pitched, nerve-grating voice through the speaker mounted above the bridge’s central control panel. “My so-esteemed Prince Xizor,” came the assembler’s voice. “Of course, as always, boundless is my trust in your wisdom and abilities. Never would I doubt the propriety of any action that was initiated by your spotless hands-“
“Get on with it,” growled Xizor. The panel microphone picked up his words and relayed them on a tight-beam connection to the web drifting in the distance, beyond Boba Fett’s ship. “I’ve got more urgent things to take care of than listening to you.” He kept an eye on the viewport and the image of Boba Fett’s ship, still gathering speed.
“Very well,” sniffed the assembler. Xizor could imagine it on its nest in the web, folding multiple jointed limbs more tightly around its pallid, wobbling abdomen. “Your display of temperament is perhaps understandable, but it does not diminish the admiration I-“
“Either say what you want of me or be silent.”
The tone of the assembler’s voice turned sour and sulky. “As you wish, Xizor. How is this for bluntness: you must be an idiot to have begun firing upon Boba Fett in open space. Do Falleens have no capacity for discretion? This entire sector is under constant observation because of the presence of my web here. Must I remind you that others are very likely watching? Some of those watchers are business associates of mine, or those with whom I might wish to do business at some time. I realize that your reputation would be enhanced by publicly eliminating the so-esteemed Boba Fett-but what about my reputation?” Kud’ar Mub’at’s voice grew louder from the panel speaker. “I certainly would prefer to have creatures killed rather than pay the money I owe them-don’t mistake me about that-but I would prefer if it didn’t become widely known that this sort of thing happens to them. Pray tell, who’s going to do business with me if they think they’re going to wind up dead?”
“Don’t worry about it,” replied Prince Xizor. Only a portion of his attention was given to the conversation with the absent assembler. “You can tell anyone you want that Boba Fett’s death had nothing to do with you.”