[Bounty Hunter Wars] - 03(43)

“I’ve got a better idea,” said Fett. With a swift horizontal arc of his forearm, he clouted Voss’on’t across the face, sending him slamming back against the edge of Slave I, then sprawling among the twitching, dying subnodes that littered the space’s floor. Blood streamed from Voss’on’t’s nose as Fett looked down at him. “Let’s leave you tied up just the way you are, and you can forget about any more escape attempts.” Reaching down, he grabbed the rags of Voss’on’t’s jacket and hauled him upright again. “They’re not going to do you any good now. And I’ve started to find them annoying.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Voss’on’t sneered at him. His bound hands squeezed into white-knuckled fists, as though he were imagining them around Boba Fett’s neck.

The stormtrooper had been on the losing end of every exchange with Fett, going right back to the distant colonial mining world where Fett and his temporary partner Bossk had tracked him down. Yet he still displayed a deeply ingrained will to fight. It won’t do him much good, thought Boba Fett. There would be little difference in the outcome whether Voss’on’t continued to struggle and scheme, or whether he finally gave up and accepted his fate. That being the case, Boba Fett didn’t care which the stormtrooper wound up doing. It was just a matter of convenience.

A darker, more venomous expression settled across Voss’on’t’s face. “You might be able to get paid, bounty hunter. You managed to get your merchandise this far, so anything’s possible. But what are you going to do when Prince Xizor shows up here?” Voss’on’t had seen the image of Xizor’s ship on Slave I’s cockpit viewport, and had been able to identify it just as readily as Fett had. “And that’s going to be any minute now.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll deal with him then.” A length of loose cord dangled from the knot around Voss’on’t’s wrists; Boba Fett used that to pull him along, twisted partway around and barely able to walk. As they progressed toward the interior tunnel that would lead them to Kud’ar Mub’at itself, Fett glanced over his shoulder at his captive. “You didn’t appear surprised by Xizor being in this sector of space, waiting for us. It seems a reasonable assumption that you knew he’d be here.”

“Assume whatever you want.” Voss’on’t leaned back from the tug of the line around his wrists. “You’ll find out what the deal is soon enough. And you want to know something? It’s going to be a real surprise.”

Boba Fett maintained his own silence. And kept a hand on the butt of the blaster pistol strapped at his side.

“Ah … my inimitable associate… the esteemed … Boba Fett …” A halting voice, squeaking like rusted metal, greeted them as they emerged from the web’s central tunnel. “How charmed … I am … to see you once more…”

Standing in the center of the web’s main chamber, with the stormtrooper tethered a few steps behind him, Boba Fett gazed upon the arachnoid assembler. Or upon the crippled shell of what Kud’ar Mub’at had been; Slave I’s crashing into the web had obviously had an effect for the worse upon its master as well.

“You’re not looking too good, Kud’ar Mub’at.” It was a statement of plain fact; Boba Fett felt no great sympathy for the assembler. I’d better get my credits, thought Fett, before it dies.

“How … kind of you … to show such concern …” The pneumatic subnode that had formed Kud’ar Mub’at’s cushioned throne was apparently dead, its deflated and flaccid membrane extending around the assembler like a grey, waxen puddle. Kud’ar Mub’at itself was hunched down in the thicket of its spidery black legs, the inverted triangular face lowered and tilted to one side. Most of the compound eyes studding its visage appeared lifeless, the sentient spark gone out behind them, as though a gust of wind had blown out the guttering flame inside a lantern. Only the two largest eyes at the front seemed able to focus upon the web’s untimely visitors. “To be honest with you… there’ve been times… I’ve felt better…”

“Face it, ” Boba Fett said bluntly. “You’re dying.”

“Oh, no … not at all…” The triangular head raised itself a bit, displaying a shakily lopsided imitation of a humanoid smile. “I’ll survive this … as I’ve survived other things …” A twiglike forelimb lifted, its end claw twitching and pointing to Kud’ar Mub’at’s head. “This is no more … than the results of … a neural feedback surge … from the crash … that’s all …” The claw tapped against the black shell of the assembler’s skull with a dry little clicking noise. “Your sudden entry … into my humble abode … most unfortunate …” Kud’ar Mub’at tried to raise itself a little higher in its deflated nest, but failed, collapsing once more into the broken tangle of its arms. “But you shall see … all things can be mended …” A crazed light shone in the largest of the assembler’s eyes. “I’ve had so much practice … creating additions to myself … outside my body … that I can create a new cortex inside here …” The raised claw tip dug harder at the skull behind the triangular face, as though already getting down to the repair job. “To replace the one… that the circumstances … of your arrival … damaged.”