[Bounty Hunter Wars] - 03(84)

“Yeah-” Dengar scowled in annoyance as he wiped some of the dried blood from his face. “Even bounty hunters don’t do that.”

“Very well,” said the high-pitched voice from the comm speaker. “I agree that I owe you an explanation for these otherwise inexplicable actions. And it’s in my best interests to give you one; I’d just as soon stay in your good graces, Boba Fett-or at least as far as that is possible for any creature to do-plus I’d regret acquiring a reputation for being, as you might say, trigger-happy. So please, by all means, let us have a conference, as it were. But not like this, over a comm unit; it’s so … impersonal.”

“Right,” Dengar muttered to Neelah. “Like unloading a few laser-cannon bolts on us was so warm and caring.”

“Actually,” continued Balancesheet’s voice from the speaker, “it would give me great pleasure if you would accept my hospitality here aboard my ship. I am in fact the only living creature aboard it, so I confess to experiencing bouts of loneliness when I’m between business meetings.”

“You’ll have to bring your ship alongside,” said Boba Fett. “Our transfer hatch suffered considerable damage during this little fracas.”

“Wait but a moment. And then we’ll talk.”

Fett reached over and broke the comm unit connection. “Let’s get ready to make our visit.”

“What?” Neelah stared at him in amazement. “You trust this creature?”

“About as much as I trust anyone. You included.”

The last comment caught her by surprise. It wasn’t the first time that Neelah had felt his penetrating glance, hidden by the dark visor of his helmet, penetrate to some remote part of her spirit. She wondered if he could somehow discern her thoughts, her secrets-was he aware that she had learned so much of her own past while he and Den-gar had been over in the reconstructed web? There’s just no hiding from him, thought Neelah. In any way…

“But we didn’t find the answers we were looking for,” continued Boba Fett. “We could bring the dead-or at least one of them-back to life, but Kud’ar Mub’at didn’t know anything. Or if it did, there’s no point in trying to find out now; that assembler is gone for good. It was gone before the laser-cannon bolts hit.”

“So you think this former subnode of Kud’ar Mub’at knows something?” Dengar pointed with a thumb toward the slowly approaching freighter, visible in the viewport. “That the old assembler didn’t?”

“Balancesheet wouldn’t be hanging around in this sector if it wasn’t important to him. And the only thing that’s here is the past, in the form of Kud’ar Mub’at’s web, or what was left of it.”

“Not much of that now,” said Neelah.

“So Balancesheet is our only lead.” Boba Fett headed for the cockpit’s hatchway. “So we talk to it.”

By the time Neelah had descended the ladder to the Hound’s cargo hold, following after the two bounty hunters, the freighter’s transfer hatch had sealed onto the exterior hull. She noticed, as they left the Hound, that Boba Fett hadn’t armed himself with anything more than he had already been carrying. Then again, she thought, that’s quite a bit.

The air inside the freighter smelled sterile and

scrubbed

by high-filtration recyclers, in contrast to the fetid Trandoshan odors that lingered about the Hound’s Tooth. All of the spaces were less cramped as well; stepping from the transfer hatch, Neelah was able to tilt her head back and look up at the curve of the main container area’s upper limit, far above her. Whatever interior bulkheads the freighter had once possessed, they had apparently been stripped out to make one large enclosed space, spanned with retrofitted control circuits. In that much emptiness, even the brace of laser cannons-Balancesheet must have picked them up from one of the Empire’s military hardware suppliers-looked small.

And Balancesheet itself looked minuscule. The tiny arachnoid assembler scuttled across the freighter’s interior girders and taut wiring networks, its multiple eyes glittering and largest forelimbs raised in greeting. “How delighted I am to see you here!” Balancesheet halted and perched on an eye-level metal ledge near where Boba Fett stood. “Really-it’s been too long.”

“Not long enough,” growled Boba Fett. “I have a real good memory for creatures who steal credits from me.”

“Oh, that.” The assembler dismissed the comment with a wave of a tiny claw tip. “A different time-and a different situation, my dear Fett. Given the exigencies of your present situation, I’d hardly think it wise of you to go on brooding about such matters.”