[Bounty Hunter Wars] - 01(85)

“Why not?” Zuckuss spoke up. “I don’t get it. The other members of your clan wouldn’t have sent you out here if you didn’t have some kind of authority to speak for them. If they’d just wanted to send us some message, they could’ve comm’d it out here or sent some flunky of a different species, like a Twi’lek or something. So why mess around? If you’re willing to talk about Dinnid at all, why not do it here?”



The smile on the broad, jowly face turned into a sneer. “Your colleague Boba Fett wouldn’t ask such a stupid question. A question which has an equally simple answer. We’re all aboard the Slave I right now, aren’t we? The Slave I is Boba Fett’s ship; he controls it. So as long as we’re here, he controls the discussion as well. There have been times when discussions with Boba Fett have gotten … a little ugly. Things start out nice and friendly, and then they just … change somehow.” Gheeta feigned mulling over that statement. “Probably because the parties involved couldn’t come

to

an agreement about the value and price of the merchandise being discussed.” He glanced over at Fett. “You always like to get things as cheaply as possible, don’t you?”



Boba Fett made no reply.



“Cheaply,” continued Gheeta, “as far as credits are concerned. When it comes to violence … well, that’s another story, isn’t it?” The floating cylinder turned, bringing the Shell Hutt’s face back toward Zuckuss. “That’s when your colleague has rather a free hand. Especially when other creatures’ skins are involved. And the blood-that can also get a little thick to wade through, when Boba Fett’s around.” Another shift in angle brought Gheeta’s face toward the bounty hunters in general. “So if you think I’m going to remain here, in the heart of Fett’s traveling circus of destruction, surrounded by his friends-or if not his friends, then creatures with whom he’s come to a certain business arrangement-and talk about the merchandise in question, let alone actually bring that merchandise here …” Gheeta’s jowls wobbled against the cylinder’s gleaming collar as he shook his head. “Then it’s not just Boba Fett who’s gone a little insane. You’re all not in sync with reality if you think that’s going to happen.”



A low growl came from the doorless holding cage. “You’ve said your piece?” Bossk folded his arms across his chest.



Gheeta looked over at the Trandoshan. “Yes, I have.”



“And now you’re going to be on your way?”



“As charming as your company is, I see no reason for wasting any more of your time or mine.”



“What makes you think we’re going to let you leave?”



A weary sigh escaped from the Shell Hutt as he rolled his eyes toward the top of the holding area, “I really expected better from any companions of yours, Fett. Do you want to tell him or should I?”



“He leaves when he wants to,” said Boba Fett. He turned the hard gaze of his visored helmet toward the holding cage. “First of all, the merchandise we came here for is still down on Circumtore. Anything unpleasant we do to the negotiator that the Shell Hutts sent out will just make it harder to accomplish anything later, when we actually go on-planet.”



Bossk laid his hand on the grip of his blaster. “Maybe we should just worry about that when we get down there. I don’t see any big difference between taking care of one canned Hutt and a whole world full of them.”



“There’s more inside that can than one Hutt. I’ve dealt with their negotiators before. They never send one out that isn’t packed with high-thermal explosives.”



“You

see?” One of the mechanical hands beneath Gheeta’s floating cylinder gestured theatrically toward Boba Fett. “That’s why he’s at the top of the bounty-hunter profession. It’s why he’s lasted so long, while others have met tragically untimely deaths. Because he’s learned that other creatures can be just as clever … and violent, if need be.” The thin metal arm telescoped outward so that the crablike hand could reach up to an access hatch at the midpoint of the cylinder’s tapered length. One claw pried open the hatch, revealing a ticking mechanism wired into several flat bricks of a dull gray substance.



From where he stood, Zuckuss could see the emblem and coding symbols of one of the Imperial Navy’s main armaments dumps. The explosive charges had obviously been stolen,



or

smuggled

out

by

some