Hard Merchandise (star wars) Read online

  "Perhaps you can." Boba Fett shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me, though."

  "And what... precisely ... does matter to you?"

  "Getting paid."

  "Ah..." The assembler's head twisted about, as though trying to force its visitor into focus. "You, at least .

  . . have not changed ..." The raised claw tip shook as it pointed toward Boba Fett. "But you know the rules... to be paid... one must first deliver... the merchandise..."

  Boba Fett stepped to one side, at the same time yanking the end of the cord tied around the renegade stormtrooper's wrists. Trhin Voss'on't fell forward, his head almost striking the soft edge of the assembler's thronelike nest. Before he could rise up onto his knees, Boba Fett put his boot between the man's shoulder blades and shoved him back down.

  "There you go," said Fett. "Good enough?"

  "How could ... I ever... have doubted you?" Kud'ar Mub'at's gaze rested upon the bounty hunter for a mo-ment, then lowered again to the merchandise sprawled in front of him. The one leg's clawed tip reached down and caught the point of Voss'on't's chin, raising the storm-trooper's bruised and scowling face toward it. "Seems ... very much . . . like the desired object ..." The claw tip pushed at one side of Voss'on't's face, displaying its profile. "Though of course... verification... will be needed..."

  "Don't play games with me." With one hand, Boba Fett reached out and grabbed the end of Kud'ar Mub'at's raised forelimb. He pulled the assembler partway out of its nest, bringing the triangular face closer to the dark vi-sor of his helmet. "If I say this is Trhin Voss'on't—then that's all the verification you need." His gloved hand tossed the assembler back onto the deflated subnode. "I didn't go to all the trouble that I did just to bring back the wrong piece of merchandise."

  "Of... course ... not..." Kud'ar Mub'at slowly dis-entangled itself from its own unresponsive limbs. The effort caused a tremor to run through the assembler's body, its globular abdomen pulsating visibly.

  "Would I doubt you ... my esteemed Boba Fett?" The assembler's head slowly shook back and forth.

  "My faculties are not so damaged... as for that... to be possible." The lopsided imitation smile showed once again. "But I am not... the one... who is paying... for this merchandise ..."

  "You're supposed to be holding the credits."

  "And so ... I am ... but there's another involved ... and he decides when you get paid ..." Kud'ar Mub'at's smile turned even uglier. "And if... you do..."

  Those words were not to Boba Fett's liking. His pref-erence was always for straightforward business deals, delivery of merchandise followed by prompt payment of the bounty. This deal had become far more intricate than that—though he already had a notion about who was behind these complications. That's why Prince Xizor showed up, decided Boba Fett. Somehow, it must have been the Falleen's credits, rather than Emperor Palpa-tine's , that got put up for the return of Trhin Voss'on't. And Xizor would rather kill me than pay me.

  "It looks like... you're starting ... to figure out a few things ..." The halting words were tinged with Kud'ar Mub'at's sly laughter. The assembler had a knack for knowing what another sentient creature was thinking, even if it had to read those thoughts through the dark vi-sor of a Mandalorian battle-armor helmet. "About. . . what kind of job ... you took on..."

  Another possibility occurred to Boba Fett. Maybe, he thought, the Emperor did put up the bounty. Voss'on't had been, after all, a servant of the Empire; the betrayal of his stormtrooper's oath would have been more of an af-front to Palpatine than anyone else. But the bounty that Palpatine had put up for him might very well have tempted even a creature with the vast resources of the Black Sun criminal organization at his command—such as Xizor. Or else Xizor wasn't interested in the credits for bringing back Voss'on't, but was more concerned about currying favor with one of the few beings in the galaxy more pow-erful than he. If Xizor was able to claim that he had tracked down and captured the renegade stormtrooper, his prestige at the Imperial court on the planet of Corus-cant , and his influence with Palpatine, would overshadow that of Lord Vader. Boba Fett was more than aware of the stories of bad blood between Xizor and Vader; there was little possibility of two such rivals for the Emperor's favor being anything other than enemies.

  Whether Prince Xizor was after the bounty that had been posted for Voss'on't, or something more intangible and more valuable, made little difference to Boba Fett. If he plans on taking something from me, then he's made a mistake. One he'll regret...

  "All I know," said Boba Fett aloud, "is that I've done the job that was put up. I don't care whether it was Em-peror Palpatine or Prince Xizor who was really behind it. I only work for myself. And I just want the bounty that was promised me."

  "You poor fool." Kud'ar Mub'at's scorn appeared to reinvigorate the damaged creature. "You have no idea ... for whom you've been working... all along..." The one claw tip extended toward Boba Fett.

  "You've been part of Xizor's schemes... and mine... for a long time now..."

  From underneath Boba Fett's boot, the stormtrooper Voss'on't turned a sneer upward at his captor.

  "How does it feel, bounty hunter? You're not the winner in this game—you're the pawn."

  A thrust of the boot flattened and silenced Voss'on't again. "What are you talking about, Kud'ar Mub'at?"

  "Very .. . simple ..." The arachnoid assembler fum-bled its sticklike legs tighter around itself. "Our little scheme... yours and mine... to break up the old Bounty Hunters Guild ..." Kud'ar Mub'at shook its narrow head. "That was Prince Xizor's idea ... I only went along with it... because he made it worth my while... but he's the one who wanted to break up the Guild . . . and you did that for him..."

  "Then you lied to me." Boba Fett's voice was as emo-tionless as always, but inside him there was a spark of anger.

  "A mere matter ... of business . . . my dear Boba Fett." In its crippled fashion, Kud'ar Mub'at imitated a nonchalant humanoid shrug. "That's all..."

  "What else did you lie to me about?"

  "You'll find out... soon enough..." Kud'ar Mub'at's smile didn't diminish as it gazed at Boba Fett, then turned toward one of the smaller fibrous corridors that branched off the web's central space. Another of the assembler's subnodes, a fully functioning one, scuttled out of the cor-ridor and onto the tip of its parent's feebly extended fore-limb. "Tell me ... my dear little Balancesheet ..." Another forelimb tenderly stroked the subnode's head, a miniature version of Kud'ar Mub'at's own. "Has our other guest... arrived ..."

  Boba Fett recognized the subnode creature as the one that had always taken care of the financial details from Kud'ar Mub'at's business dealings. More than once, the tiny scuttling Balancesheet had paid out the bounty that had been held in escrow by its creator. The sharp intelli-gence that had always been discernible in the subnode was still visible there, completely undiminished, as though it had been unaffected by the neural overload resulting from the crash of Slave I into the web. That was a mys-tery, but one that Boba Fett didn't have time to wonder about now.

  "The Vendetta is just now docking with us." As though to confirm Balancesheet's statement, a shudder ran through the rough structure around them; some-where in the distance, the sleek mass of Prince Xizor's flagship was linking up with the larger subnodes that al-lowed visitors to transfer over. "I have been in communi-cation with Xizor," said Balancesheet, perched on Kud'ar Mub'at's raised forelimb. "He informs me that he is greatly looking forward to our meeting."

  "I imagine ... he is ..." Kud'ar Mub'at's other limbs twitched and its lipless smile widened. "All creatures of business . . . relish the successful conclusion ... of a project..."

  "Then he and I have something in common." Boba Fett gave a quick nod. "Let's get this over with." He took his boot from between Trhin Voss'on't's shoulder blades and strode over to the mouth of the corridor leading to the docking area. From its holster, he drew out his blaster pistol.

  Head still tilted to one side, Kud'ar Mub'at looked at him with alarm. "What... are you doing ..
." In front of the assembler, Voss'on't managed to scrabble into a silting position, also watching Boba Fett. "This is... not necessary..."

  "I'll tell you what's necessary and what's not." Care-fully and slowly, Boba Fett pointed the blaster's muzzle at Kud'ar Mub'at and Voss'on't in turn. "If you both want to live a little longer, you'll stay quiet." He raised the blaster up by the side of his helmet. "And not spoil this little surprise for Prince Xizor."

  The footsteps against the web's resilient tangle of fibers, from several creatures coming down the corridor, were already audible. Boba Fett flattened himself against the side of the opening, blaster at the ready.

  "Watch out—"

  He had known that Voss'on't would try to warn Xizor as soon as the Falleen prince appeared. A quick bolt from the blaster pistol, hitting Voss'on't in the shoulder and knocking him back against the base of Kud'ar Mub'at's nest, served both to silence him and distract Xizor's at-tention. That gave Boba Fett the microsecond he needed to get an arm around Xizor's throat and put the muzzle of the blaster against his head.

  "Tell your men to back off." Boba Fett used Xizor as a shield, putting the Falleen between himself and the two Black Sun guards that had been just behind in the web's corridor. "I want their blasters on the floor—now."

  Xizor seemed more amused than surprised by what had happened. "Very well," he said calmly. "Do as the bounty hunter says." The two scowling guards lowered the blaster pistols they had so quickly unholstered, then tossed them into the center of the space. "You know—" Xizor turned his head, looking back at Boba Fett. "The guards are only a formality. I could kill you in a second. And I'd hardly have to move at all."

  "You don't have a second." Boba Fett kept the blaster aimed straight at the prince's skull. "If you want to test your speed against mine, go ahead. But right now you've got a lot more to lose than I do."

  "True enough," replied Xizor almost cordially, but still maintaining his haughty nobility. "I regret having backed you into this corner, Boba Fett. Desperate crea-tures seek desperate remedies for their situations. Which is a shame in this case, as you and I have more interests in common than you might otherwise suspect."

  The Falleen prince's smooth words didn't impress Fett. With a shove against Xizor's back, Boba Fett pushed him toward Kud'ar Mub'at and the stormtrooper still bound hand and foot on the central space's floor. Boba Fett took a step backward, to where his blaster pistol had an angle on the others, including the two Black Sun guards at the mouth of the corridor.

  "There's no need for that." Prince Xizor's cold half smile almost made it seem as if he were somehow in charge of the situation. "We can discuss these business dealings like civilized creatures. Here—" He gestured in command toward the two guards. "Return to the Ven-detta. Your presence is no longer necessary here."

  "But—" one of the guards protested.

  "Your presence was hardly of any value before; why should it be now?" Xizor repeated the gesture.

  "Go. Leave us." As the Black Sun guards turned and disap-peared down the corridor, Xizor spread his empty hands apart. "You see, Fett? I intend you no harm. Quite the contrary, in fact. You are a valuable entity to me."

  "Difficult to believe. "Boba Fett didn't lower the blaster pistol in his hand. "Given that you were so recently trying to blast me into atoms with your ship's laser cannons."

  "A misunderstanding," said Xizor soothingly. "These things sometimes happen in the course of business. Just as it sometimes happens that a person such as myself might change his mind about what needs to be done. And who needs to be eliminated."

  "Glad to hear it," said Fett. "But I don't buy it."

  "You have a right to be skeptical. I'm sure our mutual friend and associate here has been telling you some inter-esting things. Information that might not reflect too well upon me ..."

  "My most esteemed ... Prince Xizor ..." The arach-noid assembler's forelimbs quivered. "You mistake .

  . . my intentions..." Kud'ar Mub'at's words stumbled out, as though the Falleen were holding the blaster on him. "I would never..."

  "Don't waste our time," Xizor said coldly. "There are matters that you need to be informed of as well, Kud'ar Mub'at." The edge of anger in Prince Xizor's voice made his attitude of command even more apparent. "You de-ceive yourself if you assume that I have any continued need for your services."

  "But..."

  "Silence!"

  Boba Fett broke into the exchange between the two other creatures. "I'll say when anybody should talk or not." He aimed the blaster pistol straight toward Xizor. "All right?"

  Xizor gave a thin smile and a nod. "As you wish. For now."

  "The assembler said you were behind the plot to break up the old Bounty Hunters Guild. Is that true?"

  "Does it matter?" Xizor looked at him almost pity-ingly. "If there was something that I wished to achieve through destroying the Guild—and I'll admit there was— that doesn't negate its value for you. Let's face it: many times, in its own crude, bumbling way, the Bounty Hunt-ers Guild got in your way. As an organization it was a ri-val for those very same pieces of hard merchandise that you wished to procure for their bounties. Now the Guild is no more, and you face any other bounty hunter as an individual, on his own, without anyone to back him up. Thus your work is made that much easier and more profitable." Xizor's cruelly smiling gaze seemed to penetrate the visor of Boba Fett's helmet. "So what is there for you to complain of?"

  "Being taken for a fool. That's what." Boba Fett used the blaster pistol in his hand to point toward Kud'ar Mub'at. "If there was something you wanted done—by me—then that's who you should've come to. Instead of bringing in a go-between like this."

  "Perhaps you're right." Xizor gave a judicious nod. "Perhaps I underestimated you, bounty hunter. There might be even more in common between us than I at first suspected. I'll remember that—for our future business dealings."

  "Assuming you have a future." The blaster pistol swung back toward the Falleen. "I haven't decided about that," said Boba Fett. "If I wasn't in the loop on this little scheme of yours, there must've been a reason. The same reason that you had your ship's laser cannons fire on Slave I as soon as I came out of hyperspace. You didn't want me to still be alive after all your plotting and scheming was finished." Fett raised the blaster higher, sighting down the length of its barrel toward Xizor. "Why is that?"

  "Do you want the truth?" Xizor shrugged. "You're a dangerous individual, bounty hunter. You have a habit of coming out on top, no matter what kind of situation you find yourself in. That can be inconvenient for other creatures. And very inconvenient for Black Sun. We're engaged in our own war with the Empire, regardless of whether that fool Palpatine knows who is on his side and who isn't. But I intend to win that war, bounty hunter, no matter what." The Falleen's voice hardened. "The situation has already been complicated by this doomed Rebellion, even though it's to Black Sun's advantage that the Emperor's attention is diverted by it." Xizor slowly shook his head. "But there can only be one win-ner at this game, however many players are sitting at the board."

  "And you thought it would be better for you—and for Black Sun—if there was one less."

  "Precisely," said Xizor. "I admire the precision of your analysis. And you can believe this, if nothing else that I tell you. If I had continued to want you dead, now that you've accomplished the job I had for you—the real one, that of smashing the Bounty Hunters Guild—then all your vaunted survival skills would have done you no good at all. Crashing into the web here was a clever move, but it was the only one left to you. How much time do you think it would have bought you if I hadn't changed my mind about the desirability of your death?" The cor-ner of Xizor's mouth curled into a sneer. "The life of some scheming assembler and his assortment of scuttling little subnodes wouldn't have stopped me from turning my laser cannons on this web and blowing it into tat-tered shreds drifting in space."

  "Wuh-what..." Xizor's words brought a startled re-action from Kud'ar Mub'at. Even in its crippled con
di-tion, it managed to draw itself up higher in the flaccid nest. "You can't. . . mean that..." Then the assembler visibly relaxed, even managing a smile of relief. "Of course ... you're only joking, my dear Xizor ... if that were true . . . then you would have gone ahead . . . and destroyed my humble ... abode..." The narrow trian-gular head shook back and forth. "But... you didn't..."

  "I didn't refrain from blowing away this floating garbage pile because of any concern for you." Xizor turned his head to give the assembler a cold merciless gaze. "Your value to me has long been marginal, Kud'ar Mub'at. And now it's zero."

  A hissing shriek sounded from the assembler; its fore-limbs flailed in rage. "You think so... do you, Xizor..." Rage was enough to bring the larger compound eyes into focus. "After all ... I've done for you ..." Kud'ar Mub'at's head shook back and forth. "And all ... I con-tinue to do ... for you and Black Sun ..." One claw tip trembled as it pointed at Xizor. "You survive ... only as long ... as your affairs remain secret..." With the same claw, the assembler pointed at itself. "I am the one . . . who keeps those secrets for you ... I am the one ... who acts as your go-between... everywhere in the galaxy..." The narrow face contorted with withering anger. "How will you keep Palpatine in the dark ... without me ... to do your dirty work for you ..."

  "Simple enough," replied Xizor evenly. "I have an-other business associate who will take your place. One who has all your contacts, all your connections; one who knows your business better than you do."

  "Impossible!" All of Kud'ar Mub'at's spidery limbs thrashed the stale air in the chamber. The accountant subnode called Balancesheet had already scurried onto the nearest wall for safety. "There is .... no such crea ture ..." The assembler's reedy voice spiraled into a high-pitched, fragmented scream. "Anywhere ... in the galaxy..."

  With the blaster pistol still covering the others before him, Boba Fett watched the small drama play out be-tween the Falleen prince and the arachnoid assembler. He already had an idea what the final act was going to be.

  One of Prince Xizor's hands reached out, languid and graceful, yet possessed of untrembling power. He held his open palm upward, and the subnode Balancesheet scuttled onto it. The miniature version of its parent turned around in the small space and set its multilensed gaze upon Kud'ar Mub'at.