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[Bounty Hunter Wars] - 03(9)



Zuckuss mulled the other’s words over. “It’s possible,” he said after a moment, “that it could’ve been just luck. Real good luck.”

“If that’s the case,” replied 4-LOM drily, “then it wasn’t good luck for our merchandise at all. It was bad luck-the worst kind, in fact, since it brought him to the attention of Emperor Palpatine. Now he’s going to have a lot of explaining to do. It won’t be a pleasant process.”

Probably not, thought Zuckuss as he left the ship’s cockpit area. Even if Drawmas Sma’Da rolled over on any informants he might have had among the Emperor’s minions, the techniques that would be used to ensure that the former gambler was telling the truth would leave him a squeezed-out rag. He wouldn’t be so fat and jolly when all that was over.

The brief excitement that Zuckuss had felt during the job, when he had pulled out the live blaster and fired it off, shutting off all the onlookers’ laughter like flipping a switch, had already faded. He sat down with his back against one of the ship’s weapons lockers and defocused his large, insectlike eyes. He couldn’t help feeling that even if his bounty hunter career was going better now that he had hooked up with 4-LOM, it somehow wasn’t quite as much … fun, for lack of a better word. Granted, that kind of amusement had nearly gotten him killed, and on more than one occasion. Still…

His thoughts turned to memories as he leaned his head back against the locker. He remembered two other partners in particular; one of them, Boba Fett, could be anywhere in the galaxy now. There was no stopping Fett, or apparently even slowing him down. The last glimpse of Boba Fett that Zuckuss remembered had been through the narrow hatch of an emergency escape pod, just prior to being jettisoned from another ship similar to this one.

There had been another bounty hunter in that escape pod, one that had fumed with a murderous anger the whole time that the pod had been hurtling through space, toward some yet-unknown destination. That had been Bossk; both murder and anger were things that came naturally to Trandoshans. But it had made for cramped quarters inside the little durasteel sphere. Tempers had flared, both his and Bossk’s, and they had kept from killing each other only by agreeing, once the escape pod came to rest on the nearest planet, that they would go their separate ways. And so they had.

He was both glad and somehow sorry that his partnership with the cold-blooded, fiery-tempered reptilian Bossk was long over. There was no amount of fun that was worth the risks that came with an association with a creature like that.

Zuckuss shook his head. At least I’m still alive, he thought. That has to count for something.

He wondered where Bossk was now …





2


He didn’t need to kill him… but he did. Bossk thought it was a good idea, not just to stay in practice for the bounty hunter trade, but also to make sure that no one in the Mos Eisley spaceport knew the circumstances of his arrival.

The broken-down old transport pilot, a shambling wreck with a spine bent nearly double by too many high-g landings, had come gimping up to Bossk, obviously looking for a handout. “Wait a minute,” the old man had rasped, digging a yellow-nailed paw through the grey wisps of his beard as his rheumy eyes had peered closer at the figure in front of him. “I know you-“

“You’re mistaken.” Bossk had taken passage aboard a number of local system freighters, all under assumed names, to reach the remote planet of Tatooine. There had been plenty of times in the past when he had flown his ship Hound’s Tooth directly here and had made no attempt at concealing his identity. Right now, circumstances were different for him. “Get out of my way.” He shoved past the beggar, heading for the perimeter of the spaceport’s landing field and the low shapes of the buildings beyond. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I sure do!” The beggar, dragging one foot-twisted leg behind himself, tagged after Bossk. They crossed the landing field, streaked with blackened char marks from thruster engines. “Bumped into ya out in the Osmani system; that was a long while back.” He struggled to keep up with the Trandoshan’s quick strides. “I was piloting a shuttle between planets-that was the cheapest gig I ever worked-and you lifted one of my passengers right off the ship.” The beggar emitted a phlegm-rich, cackling laugh. “Gave me a damn good excuse for blowing my schedule, it did! I owe ya one!”

Bossk halted and turned on his clawed heel. From the corner of his eye, he spotted some of the other passengers that had disembarked with him, now glancing over in this direction as though wondering what the raised voices were all about. “You don’t owe me anything,” hissed Bossk. “Except a little peace and quiet. Here-” He dug into a belt pouch and pulled out a decicredit coin, then flipped it into the dust beside the beggar’s rag-shod feet. “Now you’ve made a profit on our little encounter. Take my advice as well,” growled Bossk, “and try to keep it that way.”