"You don't need me to kill you, either. But I'd be happy to do it." Boba Fett had donned his usual arsenal before crossing over from his ship. He didn't bother drawing his blaster or reaching over his shoulder for any of the higher-powered weapons; their mere presence, silent and intimidating, was enough." And believe me-it would be just business. Nothing personal."
The kid didn't make a reply. A weapons belt, with a standard-issue Imperial Navy blaster pistol in its holster, was slung from a protruding angle of the Z-95's structural frame. It was within easy reach of Suhlak, but he continued to stand with his arms folded across his chest, chin lowered, and eyes glaring.
Good, thought Boba Fett. That shows he's not completely stupid.
"And as long as we are talking business. . ." The bounty hunter turned toward the other sentient creature in the Z-95's cockpit. The Twi'lek Ob Fortuna cowered back against the bulkhead, his hands raised toward his face in cringing supplication." You and I have some unfinished matters to take care of."
"I. . . I don't know what you mean." Ob Fortuna's hands crawled over each other like blind, hairless animals." I am but dirt beneath your boot soles, Boba Fett. Nothing but a poor-and currently unemployed-servant to those with real power. Ever since the esteemed Cradossk died-"
"Correction. Cradossk didn't die; his son Bossk killed him. And then he took care of the remains the way Trandoshans do those things."
A visible shudder ran through the Twi'lek. Even the scowling Suhlak appeared a little sick at the men tion of Trandoshan dynastic practices. By now, the late Cradossk's bones, complete with gnawed tooth marks, were treasured items in Bossk's personal trophy chamber.
"Well, then. . ." What was meant to be an ingratiating smile appeared on Ob Fortuna's face. He lifted his empty hands, palms upward; his shrug raised the pendulous weights of his head-tails." You can hardly blame me for wanting to seek other employment. I had been Cradossk's major domo for a long time; it would have been too traumatic for me to have undertaken those same services for his son Bossk."
"Seems reasonable to me." N'dru Suhlak's shrug wasn't as encumbered." Give the guy a break, why don't you?"
The gaze from the helmet's T-shaped visor was as cold and hard as the half-forgotten legends described the Mandalorian warriors, long vanquished by the Jedi Knights, as being. Boba Fett was well aware of the effect that dark gaze had on other creatures; it was as much a weapon as any other slung behind his back." I've already given you a break," he said quietly to the hunt saboteur." You're not dead. Yet."
Suhlak leaned back against the pilot's chair. He glanced over at Ob Fortuna, then slowly shook his head." That was my best shot."
"But. . ." Panic obliterated every other emotion in the Twi'lek's eyes as he looked back toward Boba Fett." You have to understand. . ."
"I understand a great deal," said Boba Fett." That's not the problem. And neither is your not wanting to work for Bossk. I don't even care to work with a creature like that. The problem is who else you were working for when you were in Cradossk's employ."
The skin of Ob Fortuna's head-tails took on a sweating translucency, as any remaining color drained from his face." But that. . . that's insane. It's a lie!" His desperate gaze swept in the hunt saboteur, as though an ally could be found there." I was completely loyal to Cradossk! I swear it!"
"Loyal in your way. As loyal as any Twi'lek is." Boba Fett didn't need to step forward from the transfer hatchway to keep Ob Fortuna pushed against the Z-95's bulkhead." And that's just about as much loyalty as credits can buy. Anybody's credits." He turned his visored gaze toward Suhlak." How much were you getting paid for safe delivery of this merchandise?" He used the bounty hunter terminology, even though it was technically incorrect in this case; no bounty had been posted for Ob Fortuna.
Suhlak looked back coolly at him." Enough."
This time, Boba Fett did step forward. He dug into a small, belt-mounted pouch and extracted a few credits, then slapped them into Suhlak's palm." There," he said." Consider it delivered."
The hunt saboteur inspected the credits." Looks a little short." He glanced up." Know what I mean?"
A few seconds passed before Boba Fett answered." You've got an excess of nerve," he said slowly." That's not a bad thing, given how you're trying to make a living. I can even admire that. But let me give you some advice." Fett had returned to the transfer hatchway that led back to the waiting Slave I." Don't try it on me-"
"No!" A shrill cry cut across Boba Fett's words. The few scraps of control remaining to Ob Fortuna had suddenly evaporated; his face distorted and mottled by fear, he flung himself across the cramped space of the Z-95's cockpit area. The weight of the Twi'lek's head-tails lifted clear of his robed shoulders. His clawing hands reached out, not for Boba Fett's throat, but for the holstered blaster hanging near the pilot's chair. Ob Fortuna's rushing flight propelled him into Suhlak's chest, sending them both sprawling across the cockpit's metal-grated floor. The bounty hunter kicked himself free of Ob Fortuna, then scrambled as far away as possible, shielding his face with an upraised arm.
Ob Fortuna got to his knees, fumbling with the unfamiliar blaster. Both his long-fingered hands wrapped around its grip; the barrel wavered, pointing wildly in all directions. Before he could find the weapon's trigger stud, a sharp hissing sound hit against the bulkheads, followed by the Twi'lek's gasp of pain as the blaster was torn from his grasp.
The blaster was snared in the thin line of mono-linked filament running from the wrist of Boba Fett's battle armor to the small, nonexplosive projectile he had fired. He drew back his outstretched arm, at the same time retracting the line to its source reel; the blaster flew as rapidly as Ob Fortuna's panicked rush. Boba Fett deftly grabbed hold of the weapon.
"Not a smart move," said Fett. Though from the way the Twi'lek had been sweating and twitching, it was exactly what he had expected. He pulled the blaster free of the line's tangle, then slung it toward Suhlak. The hunt saboteur had uncoiled himself into a sitting position, and now caught the blaster with both hands." Hold on to that," instructed Boba Fett. He knew that Suhlak was at least smart enough to sit tight and not provoke any further demonstration of his skills.
Crouched into a whimpering ball, Ob Fortuna cowered back against the cockpit's farthest bulkhead. His pallid face was luminous with sweat, the head-tails drawing damp, sluglike trails across the front of his robe. He shrieked and tried futilely to compress himself into an even smaller mass as Boba Fett stepped forward and reached down. Grabbing hold of the robe's collar, he pulled the unresisting Twi'lek upright.
"Let's go," said Boba Fett. He stepped back toward the transfer hatchway, dragging Ob Fortuna along with him.
"Where. . ." Ob Fortuna's hands clung to his captor's forearm." Where are we going. . ."
"That's not really your concern anymore." He turned and shoved the Twi'lek into the hatchway, toward the other ship waiting at the other end of the connecting passage. Ob Fortuna stumbled and landed on his hands and knees.
"Hold it."
Boba Fett heard the simple command from behind him. He brought his dark-visored gaze around, looking back over his shoulder. He saw N'dru Suhlak standing in the middle of the Z-95's cockpit area, the blaster held unwavering toward the transfer hatchway. The weapon was aimed directly at Fett.
"Now what?" Boba Fett held himself motionless.
"Isn't it obvious?" Suhlak's lopsided smile appeared." You screwed up. Now you're going to do what I say."
"Oh? Why should I?"
"Because-" The smile showed how much pleasure Suhlak took in the explanation." If you don't, I'm going to drill a smoke-lined hole right through your gut."