“Thank you anyway,” she managed. “I’m not thirsty.”
“Of course you are,” the Anomid said. “I care nothing for your pitiful Resistance secrets.” He shoved his vocalizer-mask aside and took a long drink. “The water is safe,” he said, holding it back out.
Bria blinked at him, then her thirst won out. She drank deeply as the Anomid helped her. He pushed his vocalizer-mask back into place. As
Bria leaned back against the armchair, she said, “You’re not an Anomid.
They can’t speak without their vocalizer-masks. You’re obviously a bounty hunter in disguise. Who are you?”
The Anomid regarded her from featureless silver-blue eyes. “Observant, Bria Tharen. I am pleased by your reaction. Hysteria is wearing and useless. As to my identity … you would know me perhaps by my adopted name. Boba Fett.”
Boba Fett? Bria sagged back against the armchair, eyes wide, fighting the fear that even the casual mention of that name brought. She found herself praying to childhood gods for the first time in years.
After a moment, she wet her lips. “Boba Fett …” she managed. “I do know that name. I didn’t think you bothered with dinky Imperial bounties.
The one the Imps have on me isn’t worth your time.”
The bounty hunter nodded. “True. Besadii clan’s bounty is a hundred times that.”
“Teroenza …” Bria whispered. “It has to be. Last I heard, it was fifty thousand, not a hundred.”
“Following your capture of Helot’s Shackle, Besadii doubled that.”
Bria tried to smile. “It’s so nice to be popular,” she managed.
“Helot’s Shackle was a slave ship. I had to stop them. I have no regrets.”
“Good,” he said. “That should make our short association as pleasant as possible. Would you like more water?”
Bria nodded, and Fett got another glass. This time she took a drink without being asked. Bria was trying to remember her training in what to do if captured. She wasn’t in uniform, and thus had no lullaby available to end her suffering. Besides, she was a long way from Nal Hutta or Ylesia ˇ . . a lot could happen between here and there. She decided to bide her time and keep Fett talking, if she could. All her instructions said that the more captors came to regard a prisoner as a real person, the easier captivity became, and the greater the chance that someone would get careless.
Bria was also aware that the chance of Boba Fett slipping up was incredibly unlikely. Still, she had nothing else to do at the moment, did she?
She tried not to look at the sheet-covered bodies in the corner.
“You know,” she said, “I’ve heard a lot about you. Makes me wonder if all the things they say about you are true.”
“Such as?”
“That you have your own moral code. You are the consummate hunter, but no bully. You take no pleasure in inflicting pain.”
“True,” he said. “I am a moral person.”
“What do you think of the Empire?” she asked, as he began checking the heavy case he’d lugged into the room. She caught a glimpse of his famous helmet.
“I believe that the Empire, though morally corrupt in some ways, is the lawful government. I obey its laws.”
“Morally corrupt?” she asked, cocking her head, “how so?” “Several ways.”
“Name one.”
He gave her a glance, and she wondered if he’d tell her to shut up, but after a moment, answered, “Slavery. It is a morally corrupt institution, degrading to all parties.”
“Really!” she exclaimed. “Then we have something in common. I don’t like slavery much either.”
“I know.”
“I was a slave,” she said. “It was horrible.”
“I know.”
“You know a lot about me, I guess.”
“Yes.”
Bria wet her lips. “You know that Teroenza and whoever is running Besadii these days are planning to kill me in some protracted, hideous fashion, right?”
“Yes. Unfortunate for you, profitable for me.”
Bria nodded, and fixed him with an appealing gaze. “Since you know so much about me, you know that I have a father, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe … I know this seems unusual, but under the circumstances .
. . perhaps you wouldn’t mind …” Bria trailed off, fighting for control. It was really sinking in now that she was done for, that she wasn’t going to be able to get out of this.
“What?”
She took a deep breath. “I haven’t seen my dad in years. We were always close. My mom and brother aren’t worth much, but my dad …”