“But of course.” Bowing, the majordomo backed away toward the rough-hewn door. “I await Your Fearsomeness’s commands.”
“Fine. Do it at a distance.” Boba Fett kicked the bottom of the door to swing it shut. “That’s all I need from you right now.”
He could hear the majordomo’s steps running down the corridor, the sounds fading away until the space was silent except for a slow drip of water in one corner. A native insect, bristling with antennae and eyestalks-a miniature version of the council member that spoke in nothing but questions-had been aroused by the presence of humanoid body heat. It tried to escape as Boba Fett reached
over with his armor-gloved hand, but
his forefinger cracked the bug’s chitinous shell and left the tiny carcass smeared on the damp rock. Fett watched as a swarm of smaller creatures scurried away. Vermin and cold didn’t bother him. He’d been in worse places.
This one had the advantage as well of being easily scoured for other bugs, the kind that would report one’s words to Cradossk and his advisers. Fett hadn’t even found it necessary to do a scan on the first room to which the Twi’lek had taken him, to know that the wall hangings had been studded with microscopic listening and observation devices. The old Trandoshan’s
welcoming party, complete with drunk act, hadn’t fooled him. They know something’s up, thought Fett. The Bounty Hunters Guild had been a tougher organization in the past; Cradossk hadn’t become its leader by being a complete idiot.
Fett hadn’t survived on his own by being one, either. Cradossk would doubtlessly have expected him to reject the luxury quarters, and have an alternative already prepared. An alternative that would meet Cradossk’s requirements. Boba Fett snapped on the scanning sweeps mounted in his helmet; a precisely calibrated grid snapped into view in the narrow visor.
What do we have here? Just as he’d expected: turning slowly on his boot heel, Fett saw the pulsing red spark in the grid that indicated a miniaturized spy module. He completed his scan, finding two more at varying heights on the opposite stone wall. It would have been easy to have extracted them from their niches and crushed them between his fingertips, the way he had the living bug. Instead, he took from one of his belt pouches a trio of audio drones, already set by him to reproduce the nearly subliminal traces of his breath and other homeostatic functions. He tapped the drones into place, directly on top of the bugs. No other sound would get past them; a signal in his gear would switch them off when he left the space, producing perfect silence.
He didn’t anticipate spending much time here; he’d really only wanted to give Cradossk a chance to display his hospitality. And subterfuge. Any sleep or meals that Boba Fett required, he would take aboard the Slave I, safely docked and secured at the edge of the Guild’s main compound. I’ve got enough enemies here, he’d decided. There was no sense in making it any easier for them to get at him.
Though if they wanted to talk with him, face-to- face-this dank little room was sufficient for that.
Just as he’d anticipated, he didn’t have long to wait. A knock sounded on the splintered planks of the door, then the rusting hinges bolted into the stone creaked as a hand with claws and scales pushed it open.
“So we are to be brothers.” Bossk stood in the doorway, his slit-pupiled eyes showing both resentment and a primitive guile. “How pleasant that shall be for both of us.”
Boba Fett looked over his shoulder at the younger Trandoshan. “That matters little to me. I take my pleasure in my work. And in getting paid for it.”
“You’re famous for that.” Bossk entered the space, his wavering shadow cast ahead by the torches mounted along the corridor. He sat down heavily on the bench carved out of one wall. “I’d find my pleasures the same way-if it weren’t for you.”
“You speak of the past.” Fett stood in the center of the damp stone floor, his arms folded across his chest. “Have you forgotten already what your father said?” The banquet had still been in progress as the Twi’lek majordomo had led Boba Fett to his quarters. “A new time has begun for us. For all bounty hunters.”
“Ah, yes; my father.” Shaking his head in disgust, Bossk leaned back against the wall. “My father speaks of great and noble things; he always has. It’s one of the reasons I despise him. The day will come when I sharpen my teeth on the shards of his bones.”
“Family
matters don’t interest me.”
Boba
Fett shrugged. It had been obvious to him for a long time before this why Trandoshans were not a numerous species. “Deal with the old creature as you feel best. If you think you’re capable of it.”