sure it’s something you can handle with your characteristic dispatch.”
Fett’s suspicions were always aroused when a job was described as being out of the ordinary. That usually meant that the danger to him would be greater, or that getting paid would be more difficult, or both. Jabba the Hutt was always coming up with numbers like that, where Fett was expected to risk his life on some flaky errand. “I asked you before,” he growled. “Who’s the client?”
“There isn’t one.” Kud’ar Mub’at seemed delighted to make that announcement. “Or at least, not in the usual sense. I’m not acting on behalf of a third party. This job would be for me.”
The suspicions heightened. Kud’ar Mub’at had always been
the
perfect intermediary, keeping
his
role scrupulously separate from his clients’ interests. That go-between function was valued so highly that even the most ruthless connivers such as Jabba had never tried to cheat the assembler. It was hard to imagine who could have incurred Kud’ar Mub’at’s enmity, to the point of the assembler requiring Fett’s lethal skills.
At the same time, though-Boba Fett’s calculations clicked over inside his helmeted skull-there was no doubt that Kud’ar Mub’at could pay for whatever it wanted. Fett wasn’t in the habit of questioning his various employers’ desires-but just delivering them. Not every job required a living piece of merchandise; leaving a dead body on the blood-soaked soil of a remote planet was also within his range of expertise.
“So just what is it that you want me to do for you?”
Kud’ar Mub’at pointed one of its jointed forelimbs toward him. “Tell me first-or tell me again-what you think of the Guild. You know; the Bounty Hunters Guild.”
“I don’t,” said Fett. He gave a slight shrug. “It’s not worth thinking about. If any of its members were at all proficient, they wouldn’t be in it. An organization like that is for the weak and harmless, who think that by combining their forces they might become deadly. They’re wrong.”
“Harsh words, my dear Fett! Harsh words, indeed! There are some accomplished hunters in the Guild, with achievements nearly equaling your own. The Guild has been headed for many years now by the Trandoshan Cradossk; he was a legend among the stars when you were first starting out.”
“So he was.” Fett nodded once. “And now he is old and feeble, if still cunning. His offspring Bossk was one of those who got in my way as I was capturing Nil Posondum. If the son were one tenth the bounty hunter that the father had been, I might have some competition. But he’s not, and I don’t. The Bounty Hunters Guild’s glory days are long in the past.”
“Ah, my dear Fett, I see that your opinions have not changed.” Kud’ar Mub’at shook its dust-speckled head. “You wield them like something that you’ve taken from that arsenal you carry on your back. I’ll have to make it very much worth your while; expensively thus, to entice you into accepting this little job of mine.”
Fett kept his helmet’s featureless gaze on the as sembler. “Which is?”
“It’s really very simple.” Kud’ar Mub’at clicked the points of his forelimbs together. “I want you to join the Bounty Hunters Guild.”
The assembler’s compound eyes were not the only ones watching him. Boba Fett could sense the tiny crablike accountant and all the rest of the web’s interconnected nodes, their overlapping vision feeding into the central cortex of their master and parent. They were
all watching-and waiting for his answer.
“You’re right about one thing,” said Boba Fett.
Kud’ar Mub’at’s eyes glittered even more brightly. “Yes? What’s that?”
His suspicions hadn’t gone away; if anything, they were even sharper and harder. The simple jobs, he said to himself. Those are the ones you get killed on.
“This job of yours…”
“Yes?” The tethered subassemblies crept closer to Kud’ar Mub’at, as though the web itself were narrowing tighter.
Boba Fett gave a slow nod of his helmet. “It’ll cost you.”
6
From a small viewport embedded in a wall of tangled fibers, a slit-pupiled eye of deep violet hue watched the bright trail of an interstellar craft, dwindling among the wide-flung stars. A moment later the engine flare blinked out of sight, as the Slave I leaped into hyperspace and was gone.
“Your Excellency-” One of Kud’ar Mub’at’s household nodes hesitated, then skittered closer and tugged at the hem of the ornate, heavy robes brushing the observation chamber’s matted floor. “Your presence is now desired by your host.”