“But he told us,” said Zuckuss. “When he first arrived. Because of all the changes, with the Empire and everything else-“
“And you believed him?” Cradossk shook his head. “Time for another lesson, child. There is no one you can trust-least of all someone who trades in the deaths and defeats of others. You can trust Boba Fett now, if you wish, but I promise you: The day will come when you’ll regret it.”
A chill ran through Zuckuss’s spirit, or whatever was left of it after having become a bounty hunter. Part of him knew that the old Trandoshan had spoken truly; another part hoped that the day he had foretold was still a long way off.
“Well … I better be going.” Zuckuss gestured toward the door of the private quarters. “There’s still a lot I have to take care of.” He was pretty sure that the Twi’lek majordomo would have had enough time by now to contact everyone that needed to be. “You know … since coming back from the job …”
“Of course.” Cradossk bent down and picked up the pieces of the shattered rib bone. “I’ve got to learn to control my temper.” Clutching the white splinters in one clawed hand, he smiled at Zuckuss. “Or do you think it’s just too late for that?”
Zuckuss had stepped back toward the door. “To be truthful …” He reached behind himself and grasped the door’s edge. “It’s too late.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Cradossk looked suddenly older, as though weighed down with the burdens of leadership. Carrying the broken trophy from his younger days, he shuffled toward the entrance of the bone chamber, the repository of all his precious memories. “It’s always too late… .”
The door to the private quarters creaked as Zuckuss pulled it farther open, but he didn’t step out to the corridor beyond. He stayed where he was so he could watch what he knew was about to happen.
Which took place within seconds: Cradossk found his way
blocked
by his offspring Bossk. The
younger Traridoshan stood with his arms folded across his chest; a wide smile split his face as he gazed down into his father’s startled eyes.
“But …” Cradossk gaped at his son. “You … you’re supposed to be dead. …”
“I know that was the plan,” said Bossk, with feigned mildness. “But I made some changes to it.”
Cradossk whirled about, looking back toward
the private-quarters door and Zuckuss. “You lied!”
“Not entirely.” Zuckuss gave a small shrug. “Just the bit about him not getting up again after he was shot.”
With a single foreclaw, Bossk pointed to the sterile bandage running diagonally across his chest, from one shoulder and under the opposite arm. “It really hurt,” he said, still smiling. “But it didn’t kill me. You should know how hard our species is to get rid of. And also-whatever doesn’t destroy one of us just makes us that much more pissed off.”
A look of panic appeared in Cradossk’s yellowed eyes; he took a step backward from the figure looming in front of him. “Now wait a minute… .” The bone shards fell on the floor as he raised his scaly hands, palms outward. “I think you might be making some … rash assumptions here… .”
One of Bossk’s hands shot out, grabbing his father by the throat. “No, I’m not.” The smile was gone from his face. On the other side of the private quarters, Zuckuss could see the red anger tingeing the younger Trandoshan’s eyes. “I’m making the same assumption I made a long time ago, before I ever left for Circumtore. And you know what that is? It’s that there isn’t room in the Bounty Hunters Guild for both you and me.”
“I … I don’t know what you’re talking about… .” Cradossk grabbed the other’s wrist, in a futile attempt to ease his hold and get another breath into his own lungs. “The Guild… the Guild is for all of us. …”
“I’m talking about the same thing you were talking about, just now.” With his other hand, Bossk pointed a clawed thumb back toward the unlit depths of the bone chamber behind him. “I was in there the whole time the two
of you have been blabbing away. And I heard everything you said. All that stuff about clearing out the undesirables from the Bounty Hunters Guild. And you know what?” Bossk tightened his hold, his fist at Cradossk’s throat lifting the older Trandoshan up onto the claws of his toes. “I agree with you about all that. You’re absolutely right: The Guild is going to be a lot smaller. Real soon.’”