“Flatter me some other time, why don’t you? After we’ve taken over the Bounty Hunters Guild.” The fanged smile returned to Bossk’s face. “When I slice up my father’s carcass, I’ll save you one of the best pieces.”
“Don’t bother,” said Fett. “I’ll be pleased enough knowing that I’ve accomplished what I came here for.” Whether Bossk would be as happy about it remained to be seen.
“I’m glad-really glad-that we’re in agreement about this.” Bossk stood up from the damp stone. He stepped close to Boba Fett, bringing his face to where it almost touched the visor of the helmet. “Because otherwise I would have had to kill you.”
“Perhaps.” Fett didn’t draw away. “Though I think you’re actually the lucky one. Look down here.”
Bossk’s slit-pupiled eyes widened when they glanced down and saw the muzzle of a blaster pressed against his abdomen. Fett rested his thumb on the weapon’s firing stud.
“Let’s get one thing straight.” Boba Fett kept his voice level, stripped of emotion. “We can be partners. But we’re not going to be friends. I need those even less.”
Bossk regarded the weapon for a moment longer, then lifted his head and barked a raw-edged laugh. “That’s good! I like that.” All the points of his fangs showed as he glared fiercely into the dark visor.
“You watch out for yourself, and I’ll watch out for me. That’s just the way I like it.”
“Good.” Fett slipped the blaster back into
its holster. “We can do business.”
As he stepped out into the corridor Bossk stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “And of course,” he said slyly, “this is all a private arrangement, isn’t it? Between you and me.”
“Of course.” Boba Fett hadn’t moved from the center of the space. “It’ll work better that way.”
For
me, thought Fett, after the Trandoshan had stridden away, past the flickering torches. For you, it’s another matter.
The Twi’lek majordomo had other household duties as well. Chief among which was spying.
“Your son has just concluded a long conversation with Boba Fett.” All the comings and goings in the Bounty Hunters Guild headquarters were observed by Ob Fortuna. “From what I could tell, your son seemed rather pleased with the results.”
“I’m not surprised.” Cradossk’s blunt claws fumbled with the catches of his ceremonial robes. The heavy fabric,
with embroidery that depicted his species’ ancient battles and triumphs, was stained with the wine that had been spilled at the banquet. “Bossk gets his eloquence
from
me.” He shrugged off
the
robes. “Persuasiveness is a specialty of his.”
“But aren’t you concerned?” The Twi’lek’s tapering head tails swung forward as he gathered up the robes. “About what the two of them found to talk about?” He spread the robes out on a lacquered rack at the side of Cradossk’s sitting room. “Your son has … shall we say”-the Twi’lek’s smile was a combination of nerves and obsequiousness-“a bit of a conspiratorial streak.”
“Of course he does! He wouldn’t be my son, oth erwise.” Cradossk sat down on the edge of a canopied pallet and stuck his legs out. His claws ached from all the standing he’d had to do, giving toasts and welcoming the famous Boba Fett into the brotherhood of bounty hunters. “I don’t expect him to take over the leadership of the Guild someday merely because he has a talent for killing sentient creatures.”
The Twi’lek knelt down to unfasten the metal-studded straps laced between Cradossk’s claws. “I think,” he said softly, “that your son is rather eager to assume that leadership. Perhaps even … impatient …”
“Good for him. Keeps him hungry.” Cradossk leaned back against a mound of pillows. “I know just what my son wants. The same thing I did when I was his age. Blood leaking through my fangs, and a pile of credits in my hand.”
“Oh!” Ob Fortuna’s eyes glittered at any mention of credits. “But perhaps … it would be better for you to be careful.”
“Better for me to be smart, you mean. I don’t intend to wind up on my son’s dinner plate. That’s why I’m on his side in all this.”
The head tails rolled across the Twi’lek’s shoulders as he looked up. “I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t. You’re not a sneaky enough barve. It takes a Trandoshan to understand the subtleties of these kinds of maneuvers. We’re born with it, like scales. Do you really think I’m such an idiot that I’d let Boba Fett walk in here and become a member of the Bounty Hunters Guild, and just take everything he has to say on trust?” Cradossk had no anxiety about revealing his thoughts and schemes to his majordomo; Twi’leks were too cowardly to act upon anything they heard. “The man’s a scoundrel. Of course, that’s nothing I hold against him; he’s just not our scoundrel. He’s still looking out for himself-and why shouldn’t he? But in the meantime I’m not fooled by all his talk of some grand alliance between himself and the Bounty Hunters Guild. And if he was taken in by all my rhapsodizing about brotherhood between us, then I really am disappointed in the great Boba Fett.” He reached down and scratched between the exposed claws of his feet. “That’s why I sent my son Bossk in there to talk with him. Bossk may be a bit of a hothead-that’s another way he resembles me when I was that age-but he’s smart enough to follow through on a good, underhanded plan.”