Hard Merchandise Page 23

  Instinctively, she grabbed for the navigational con­ trols on the panel in front of her. Piloting the ship, even a cumbersomely fitted-out one such as the Hound's Tooth, was within her abilities; manning its weaponry and firing back at the attacking ship were impossible, though.

  She shoved forward the main thruster engine control; its responding force shoved her back into the pilot's chair. Another few quick adjustments brought the Hound about, away from the web and the unknown ship, still firing its laser cannon as it rocketed closer. Through the

  ship's frame, Neelah had heard the conducted noise of the transfer hatch ripping away from where it had been sealed to the web.

  Another push on the thruster control would send the Hound's Tooth on a full-power, blazing arc away from this sector of space. An emergency escape vector was al­ ready programmed into the hyperspace navicomputer; she would only have to punch a couple of buttons to reach safety.

  And then what? Neelah sat frozen at the ship's con­ trols, mind racing. Maybe I've found out enough, she told herself. Her name, her true name; there had been many times, all the way back to the palace of Jabba the Hurt, that she had despaired of ever discovering even that much. She should be satisfied with that...

  More words escaped her lips that came from the past and the memories she had found within herself. They were a string of expletives in one of the planet Kuat's an­cient, pre-Basic tongues.

  She slammed on the Hound's side jets, and was imme­ diately swiveled about in the pilot's chair as the ship swung back toward the web and its attacker.

  This is just like the story I told, thought Dengar. About all those things that happened back then...

  He struggled to remain conscious, knowing that death was on the other side of the blackness threatening to engulf him. The swirling dark spots that signaled ter­minal oxygen starvation had coalesced into one annihi­ lating wave, roaring down the length of the web's central tunnel. Any further drop in atmospheric pressure would be enough to kill both him and Boba Fett; the murderous vacuum of space would boil the blood right out of their ruptured flesh and viscera. Dragging in as much fiery breath as he could, Dengar saw the web clear and partly come into focus; once more, he saw the image from the story he had related to Neelah, of the Black Sun cleanup

  crew tearing apart the living web of Kud'ar Mub'at. Only this time, there weren't any henchmen of Prince Xizor going about their destructive business; the web seemed almost to be ripping itself apart before his red- misted eyes.

  Then the image changed. Now that, he thought deliri­ ously, wasn't in the story. The prow of a bounty hunter ship, the one called Hound's Tooth, tore through the exterior of the web. Great tangles of structural fibers rolled across the curve of the cockpit's forward viewport; through the mired transparisteel, Dengar just barely rec­ognized Neelah at the control panel. Braking jets spat flame, slowing the ship down before it could barrel over him and crush his form to the web's tangled floor.

  It's too late. That was his last thought as the blackness exploded from inside his skull. I'll never—

  Something grabbed him around his bursting chest, picking him up bodily and diving with him toward the hull of the Hound's Tooth. But he didn't strike the ship's exterior; instead, he felt himself land skidding across the level flooring of the ship's open airlock.

  A rush of oxygen filled his aching lungs, and he was able to see a blurred vision of Boba Fett standing just in­ side the airlock door, smashing his gloved fist upon the small control pad at its edge. The door sealed shut and the enclosed space repressurized itself.

  Dengar pushed himself up onto his knees and col­ lapsed against the curved metal behind him. He wiped a trembling hand across his face, then looked at his palm and saw it reddened with the blood leaking from his nose and mouth.

  The airlock's interior door hissed open. Boba Fett didn't bother to reach down and help Dengar stand upright, but instead just stumbled into the ship's cargo hold. Even weaker, Dengar crawled after the other bounty hunter, then used the bars of one of the empty cages to pull him­self to his feet. He stood clutching the bars as his heart slowly stopped hammering in his chest.

  "All right..." Dengar managed to wheeze out a few painful words. "Now... we're even..."

  Boba Fett didn't seem to hear him. As Dengar watched, the other bounty hunter started climbing the ladder up to the ship's cockpit.

  11

  The thruster engine controls were under Neelah's palm, ready for her to shove them forward and send the Hound's Tooth bursting out of the remains of the entangling web. Before she could move, she heard something from the hatchway behind her; she turned and saw Boba Fett stand­ ing there. The only time she had seen him looking worse had been back on Tatooine when he had been lying on the desert sands, half-dead from the Sarlacc's digestive secretions.

  Strands of Kud'ar Mub'at's extruded neural fibers were draped and twisted about Boba Fett's battle armor as he pushed himself from the hatchway and shoved Nee­lah away from the control panel. Pressing herself back into the pilot's chair, keeping out of his way, she watched as he slapped row after row of weapons systems controls; their bright red lights pulsed on like bright, fiery jewels.

  Once the Hound's own laser cannons had all been brought operational, Boba Fett hit the thruster control on which Neelah's hand had been poised only a few sec­ onds before. One quick flare from the main thruster en­ gines, and the tattered fragments of the web broke apart and swirled away from the ship's forward viewport. He quickly hit the braking jets, slamming the Hound to a dead stop in empty space. The attacking vessel was cen­tered in the cannon's targeting systems.

  Fett snapped on the comm unit. "You can fire or you can try to run." The indicator light on the control panel showed that the ship he had hailed was receiving the transmission. "Either one won't do you much good."

  Leaning past him, Neelah peered through the view­ port. From this close, the other ship didn't appear to be much of a threat. Instead of the sleek, threatening lines of a fighting craft, it looked more like a slow and bulky freighter vessel.

  "What a surprise," came the voice over the comm unit speaker. It sounded amused rather than angry—or fright­ ened. "I did not know it was you, Boba Fett. Believe me, if I had, I wouldn't have fired upon you."

  "Wait a minute." Neelah looked up at the comm unit in amazement, then over to Boba Fett. "This creature ... knows you}"

  Boba Fett gave an acknowledging nod. "We go back a bit, with each other. And you already know about it."

  That last remark puzzled her even more. "Who is it? And does everybody who knows you just open fire when they see you?"

  "It happens often enough." He shrugged. "Just an oc­cupational hazard. Especially in this line of business." Turning from her, Boba Fett hit the comm unit button again. "Balancesheet—I could blow you away right now, and I'd be justified in doing that."

  "How fortunate for me then that you're so capable of controlling your wrath."

  Another sound came from the cockpit hatchway. Nee­lah turned and saw Dengar—looking even worse for his experiences aboard the reconstructed web—standing there.

  "Balancesheet?" Dengar stared up at the comm unit speaker, then glanced over at Neelah. "You mean the lit­ tle assembler that used to be Kud'ar Mub'at's accountant subnode? That's who fired on us?"

  "I guess so," replied Neelah. "I mean—how would I know for sure? You're the one who told me about it."

  "That doesn't mean I know it personally." Dengar stepped closer and peered at the viewport. "I was just re­ peating the stuff Fett told me. But that must be the freighter that Prince Xizor gave to it, after the web was destroyed the first time. So ..."

  "It's Balancesheet, all right." Boba Fett turned away from the comm unit. "I've heard its squeaky little voice enough times to recognize it." He pressed the transmit button again. "You've got some explaining to do, As­ sembler. So presumably there's some accounting for what you're doing in this sector—since there's not a lot of your kind of busi
ness going on here at the moment—and why you're so prepared to fire on other creatures before you even know who they are."

  "Yeah—" Dengar scowled in annoyance as he wiped some of the dried blood from his face. "Even bounty hunters don't do that."

  "Very well," said the high-pitched voice from the comm speaker. "I agree that I owe you an explanation for these otherwise inexplicable actions. And it's in my best interests to give you one; I'd just as soon stay in your good graces, Boba Fett—or at least as far as that is possi­ ble for any creature to do—plus I'd regret acquiring a reputation for being, as you might say, trigger-happy. So please, by all means, let us have a conference, as it were. But not like this, over a comm unit; it's so ... impersonal."

  "Right," Dengar muttered to Neelah. "Like unloading a few laser-cannon bolts on us was so warm and caring."

  "Actually," continued Balancesheet's voice from the speaker, "it would give me great pleasure if you would ac­ cept my hospitality here aboard my ship. I am in fact the only living creature aboard it, so I confess to experiencing bouts of loneliness when I'm between business meetings."

  "You'll have to bring your ship alongside," said Boba Fett. "Our transfer hatch suffered considerable damage during this little fracas."

  "Wait but a moment. And then we'll talk."

  Fett reached over and broke the comm unit connec­tion. "Let's get ready to make our visit."

  "What?" Neelah stared at him in amazement. "You trust this creature?"

  "About as much as I trust anyone. You included."

  The last comment caught her by surprise. It wasn't the first time that Neelah had felt his penetrating glance, hid­den by the dark visor of his helmet, penetrate to some re­ mote part of her spirit. She wondered if he could somehow discern her thoughts, her secrets—was he aware that she had learned so much of her own past while he and Den- gar had been over in the reconstructed web? There's just no hiding from him, thought Neelah. In any way...

  "But we didn't find the answers we were looking for," continued Boba Fett. "We could bring the dead—or at least one of them—back to life, but Kud'ar Mub'at didn't know anything. Or if it did, there's no point in trying to find out now; that assembler is gone for good. It was gone before the laser-cannon bolts hit."

  "So you think this former subnode of Kud'ar Mub'at knows something?" Dengar pointed with a thumb toward the slowly approaching freighter, visible in the viewport. "That the old assembler didn't?"

  "Balancesheet wouldn't be hanging around in this sector if it wasn't important to him. And the only thing that's here is the past, in the form of Kud'ar Mub'at's web, or what was left of it."

  "Not much of that now," said Neelah.

  "So Balancesheet is our only lead." Boba Fett headed for the cockpit's hatchway. "So we talk to it."

  By the time Neelah had descended the ladder to the Hound's cargo hold, following after the two bounty hunters, the freighter's transfer hatch had sealed onto the exterior hull. She noticed, as they left the Hound, that Boba Fett hadn't armed himself with anything more than he had already been carrying. Then again, she thought, that's quite a bit.

  The air inside the freighter smelled sterile and scrubbed by high-filtration recyclers, in contrast to the fetid Tran­doshan odors that lingered about the Hound's Tooth. All of the spaces were less cramped as well; stepping from the transfer hatch, Neelah was able to tilt her head back and look up at the curve of the main container area's up­ per limit, far above her. Whatever interior bulkheads the freighter had once possessed, they had apparently been stripped out to make one large enclosed space, spanned with retrofitted control circuits. In that much emptiness, even the brace of laser cannons—Balancesheet must have picked them up from one of the Empire's military hard­ ware suppliers—looked small.

  And Balancesheet itself looked minuscule. The tiny arachnoid assembler scuttled across the freighter's inte­ rior girders and taut wiring networks, its multiple eyes glittering and largest forelimbs raised in greeting. "How delighted I am to see you here!" Balancesheet halted and perched on an eye-level metal ledge near where Boba Fett stood. "Really—it's been too long."

  "Not long enough," growled Boba Fett. "I have a real good memory for creatures who steal credits from me."

  "Oh, that." The assembler dismissed the comment with a wave of a tiny claw tip. "A different time—and a different situation, my dear Fett. Given the exigencies of your present situation, I'd hardly think it wise of you to go on brooding about such matters."

  Neelah glanced over at Boba Fett. Even through the dark visor of the bounty hunter's helmet, the fierce radia­ tion of the glare directed at Balancesheet was discernible.

  "Especially since you brought more company with you!" Balancesheet tapped its claws together. "Let's not spoil the occasion for them."

  It was the first time that Neelah had seen one of the creatures that had been described to her by Dengar. The repulsiveness of its spiderlike form was mitigated for her by its relatively small size; she could have picked it up and held it in the palm of her hand. Well, thought Neelah,

  maybe both hands. At any rate, there had been uglier— and more immediately dangerous—creatures back in Jabba the Hutt's palace.

  "Let me think for a moment..." Balancesheet pointed one of its claw tips at Dengar. "I remember you; one of my predecessor's customers, I believe."

  Dengar nodded. "Yeah, I did a couple of jobs that'd been arranged through Kud'ar Mub'at."

  "And you survived—that's a credit to your skills. Not everybody in your position did."

  "Yeah, well ..." Dengar shrugged. "I didn't get rich from them, either."

  "Nobody did," said Balancesheet. "Kud'ar Mub'at was a fool in many ways. You can't do business with creatures as dangerous as bounty hunters and the like, and just keep shortchanging them the way it did. Eventu­ally, all that catches up with you."

  Dengar glanced back through a small viewport beside the transfer hatch. Through it, some of the remaining fragments of Kud'ar Mub'at's web were visible, drifting in space. "You could say that, all right."

  "You, however ..." Balancesheet turned his bright multiple gaze toward Neelah. "I haven't met you before. But you might be surprised at how much I know about you."

  "Maybe not," replied Neelah coldly. "Depends upon how much you know about Nil Posondum. And Ree Duptom. And whoever it was that used your predecessor to hire Duptom to kidnap me and have my memory wiped."

  "I see." Balancesheet nodded its small triangular head. "You're a very clever young human female, Neelah— that's what you're called, isn't that correct?"

  She hesitated a moment, then nodded in agreement. She had decided to keep a few of her secrets awhile longer, until there was a way of knowing how much the small assembler knew.

  "You've come to some interesting conclusions." Balancesheet continued to regard her. "But it might or

  might not have been the late Ree Duptom who did all those unfortunate things to you." A tiny smile showed on the assembler's face. "Doesn't really matter, though, does it? The effect is largely the same, my esteemed guest."

  She made no reply.

  "It must be genetic," said Boba Fett. "You've gotten as bad as Kud'ar Mub'at ever was, with all the cheap pleasantries."

  "I was unable to speak as I wished while I was still part of old Kud'ar Mub'at. My rhetorical skills have greatly increased since then."

  "Why don't we dispense with them and get down to the reason we came here."

  "But of course." Balancesheet turned its jagged smile toward the helmeted bounty hunter. "And surely that reason is that you're looking for answers. But I don't think you've found any so far, have you?"

  "Not the ones we wanted."

  "Or any at all, I imagine." The narrow triangular head gave a small shake. "I could have told you that your search would be pointless. Because, believe me, I've al­ ready tried. That's why I'm here in this sector, with this ship that's become such a home to me. I had heard about your previous inquiries into the possibili
ties presented by the nature of arachnoid assembler physiology, Boba Fett; I didn't think you would be interested in the subject un­ less there might be a use for that knowledge someday. And so I found out a few things on my own. Enough to go rummaging through the scraps of Kud'ar Mub'at's old web—my previous home, in its way—and through the memories of my predecessor. Of course, I didn't need to go through as elaborate a procedure as you and your partner were forced to; but then, I am of the same species as the late Kud'ar Mub'at. I was able to merely integrate the various pieces of the web, and even that withered husk that its spirit and mind once resided in, into an ex­trusion of my own cerebro-nervous system, and I could access all of its residual memories without even bringing Kud'ar Mub'at back to momentary consciousness."