New Threat (2 page)

“That’s because the boy has failed!” hissed a voice from the shadows. Boba glanced aside. He saw another bounty hunter, a bulbous-eyed, snout-nosed Aqualish, staring at him
hungrily.

“Failed?” Jabba reached for a basket of squirming white worms. He grabbed a fistful of the repellent grubs. “Is this so?”

Boba shot a cold look at the gloating Aqualish. “It is not, O Most Heinous of Hutts,” Boba said. He swung his pack from his shoulder and stepped toward the throne. “I did as
you commanded, Lord Jabba. I gave the assassin Jhordvar the choice of returning with me, or—”

“Or getting away!” cried the Aqualish.

Rough laughter came from the other bounty hunters. Boba ignored them.

“Or accepting his own death,” Boba continued cooly. “He chose the latter. Unfortunately for him. But not, O Mighty Jabba, for you.”

With a flourish, Boba lifted his pack and turned it over. Jhordvar’s remains fell to the floor. The withered hands curled upward, as though trying—too late—to escape. Gasps
echoed through the throne room, followed by excited murmurs.

Jabba looked at his major-domo.

With a bow, Bib Fortuna moved quickly toward the trophies. He stooped and grasped one skeletal hand. Then he turned it so that Jabba could see the gold-green amaralite ring glittering on a
mummified finger.

“It is indeed Jhordvar,” said Bib Fortuna. He flashed Boba an admiring look. Then the Twi’lek yanked the ring from the assassin’s bony hand, and returned to hold it up to
Jabba.

“Hmmmm,” mused Jabba. He had Fortuna hold the ring up to the light and inspected it. He looked at Boba. Very slowly, Jabba’s lipless mouth parted in a smile. “Hoh hoh
hoh! Come—”

Boba let his breath out in a silent whistle of relief. He took the steps toward Jabba at a near run, stopping before the throne.

“Your hand,” commanded Jabba. Boba extended his palm, and Jabba dropped the ring into it. “You will receive your usual fee, young Fett. This is a bonus. Amaralite is worth much
in some parts of the galaxy.”

But not on Tatooine
, brooded Boba, while making sure he only looked back calmly at his employer.

“Thank you, Lord Jabba,” he said. “I will take good care of it.”

Jabba stared at him as though he could read the young man’s thoughts. The Hutt’s flaccid tongue flicked at the corner of his mouth as he reached for more grubs. “You may find
it useful, young Boba,” he boomed. “On your next adventure…”

Boba stared at him, trying not to let his confusion show. In the hall behind him he could hear the assembled bounty hunters whispering angrily among themselves.

“My next…?” he started.

“Yes.” Jabba gestured disdainfully at the other hunters. “You see them? Jackals! Arrak snakes! They are predators. They are good hunters—but they are not great ones. They
lack vision. They lack endurance,” his voice boomed. “They lack the will to succeed.”

Boba allowed himself a small, grim smile. “Endurance I can understand,” he said.

“I know,” said Jabba. “That is why I have waited for your return. I have an important job for you. It will take many bounty hunters—but only one will be given the most
rewarding task.”

“This I understand, too,” said Boba.

“These bounty hunters,” Jabba went on, pointing at the others, “they have been here for a week. Some did not have the patience to wait. They left. They will not
return.”

Boba shivered at Jabba’s tone. The crime lord’s voice rose as he cried out so that all in the hall could hear him. “Return in one hour! You will receive your orders then. There
will be glory for all of you—and blood for all,” he finished, his wide mouth curling in a smile. Throughout the cavernous room, the other bounty hunters cursed. Some laughed. The rest
made threatening gestures and stalked away angrily.

After a few minutes only a few remained, looking hopefully at Jabba. One of them was the Aqualish.

“What are you waiting for?” Jabba bellowed at them. He turned to Bib Fortuna. “These guests do not know their manners! Perhaps they would enjoy sharing a meal with my pit
beasts?”

“By all means, master,” said the Twi’lek with a nasty smile.

Boba looked over. The remaining bounty hunters hurried toward the arched doorway. The last to leave was the Aqualish. He glared back at Boba, then followed the others.

“Now,” thundered Jabba from his throne. He leaned forward, his tail twitching slightly, and beckoned Boba toward him. “You have done well for a young bounty hunter.”

“Thank you, Lord Jabba,” said Boba.

“So well, in fact, that I have no more use for you here,” Jabba continued.

Boba looked at him, startled. “But you just said…?” he asked. “No more use for me?”

He swallowed, trying not to let his alarm show.
But all I want is to be a bounty hunter
, he thought.
The very best—and only the very best work for Jabba!

“That is not what I said.” Jabba’s voice was calm, with an edge of menace. “I said I had no more use for you
here
, on Tatooine.”

Boba stared at him, hardly daring to believe his ears.

Jabba nodded. “That is right. Tomorrow you begin a new job for me, Boba—off-planet!”

Off-planet! Yes!

Boba wanted to punch the air in excitement.

“When do I leave?” he asked.

Jabba watched him approvingly. “I am glad to see you are pleased at the prospect,” he boomed. He picked up a squishy, star-shaped glubex, unpeeled its head from its body, and ate it,
slurping loudly. He held out the empty skin to Boba.

“Uh, no thanks,” said Boba.

Jabba belched and went on. “Many would be terrified at the very thought of traveling to Xagobah in these troubled times. But I think my instincts about you are correct. You do not seem
afraid.”

Boba hesitated. “My father taught me that fear can be overcome,” he said at last. He felt a pang at the memory of his father, Jango Fett—the mighty bounty hunter, slain by that
murderous Jedi, Mace Windu. “He always said that a good bounty hunter ought to know his prey as well as he knew himself. Knowledge is power. Fear is energy. And with power and energy, one can
conquer anything. One can defeat any enemy.”

Jabba stared at him through slitted amber eyes. “Your father taught you well, Boba Fett.”

“What he did not teach me, O Jabba, I have learned from you.”

Jabba’s enormous mouth opened in a bubbling laugh. He reached for the withered stalk of Jhordvar’s arm and waved it as though it were a fan. “Hoh hoh! In that case, you have
learned well indeed!”

Jabba tossed Jhordvar’s arm into the shadows. “But you will need all your knowledge, young Fett,” he said. “And luck wouldn’t hurt—not where I’m sending
you.”

Boba waited patiently. He knew better than to interrupt Jabba.

At this point, Jabba’s major-domo took over. “Last week a high-ranking member of the Republic Senate contacted the great Jabba. Completely confidential, of course,” the
obsequious Bib Fortuna said with an evil smirk. “They want it to appear that they are working through the proper channels. They have put a bounty on the heads of many leading Separatists. Our
Lord Jabba had agreed to help them hunt down these scum. Everyone knows his bounty hunters are the best,” Bib Fortuna added, gloating. “Even the Republic!”

Boba smiled. His hand moved instinctively to the blaster nestled at his hip. “So you want me to hunt them down?”

“No.” The Twiilek gestured dismissively at the empty hall. “Lord Jabba will let those others do that.”

Boba glanced at Jabba. The crime lord was watching him closely. Boba kept his expression calm. He waited as Fortuna continued. “Jabba has something much more hazardous in mind for
you.”

Boba nodded. “Great!”

“Have you ever heard of a Separatist named Wat Tambor?”

“No,” said Boba.

“He is the Separatists’ Techno Union Foreman, as well as a combat engineer. A brilliant strategist. And extremely dangerous—an expert at fighting machines, and a master of
defense technologies. He is also an expert at escape. The Republic captured and detained him at a high-security facility. But several of Tambor’s followers from the Techno Union freed him,
with the assistance of a Clawdite shapeshifter.”

“A Clawdite,” repeated Boba, scowling. “I have grown to hate Clawdites.”

He didn’t say why—namely that a young shapeshifter had robbed him while Boba was on Aargau, trying to regain his father’s fortune.

“Lord Jabba’s sources inform him that Wat Tambor is now on Xagobah,” said Bib Fortuna. “He has taken refuge in his fortress there. Republic troops have laid siege to his
hideout, using a clone army led by a Jedi Master named Glynn-Beti.”

At the word “Jedi,” Boba’s face grew grim. He didn’t explain that he had actually met Glynn-Beti, back on the assault ship
Candaserri.
She had even shown
kindness to him; she had never learned his real name or parentage. Glynn-Beti was a Bothan, cream-furred and small—less than a meter and a half in height. But she had great presence and
command despite her diminutive size—the power and authority of a Jedi.

And nothing could change Boba’s mind about that.

He said, “I hate the Jedi, too.”

But not Ulu Ulix, Glynn-Beti’s Padawan,
Boba thought. Ulu was the one Padawan he genuinely liked.

Jabba nodded. Fortuna continued, “I know. And the Separatists supporting Wat Tambor have assembled a huge counterforce—hailfires, spider droids, the most technologically advanced
battle droids anyone has ever seen. To reach Wat Tambor you will first have to get through Republic and Separatist lines—no member of the Republic forces on Xagobah must know you have this
assignment.”

“I understand,” said Boba.

“Do you?” Jabba’s mouth suddenly split into a cold smile.

Fortuna resumed speaking. “Once you have breached the Separatists’ forces—if you can—you still have to enter the Citadel. Wat Tambor designed it himself. He focused all
of his technological knowledge to one end: to make that fortress invincible. No one has ever penetrated its defenses. No one—not even a Jedi. And even if they did, inside, there are traps
everywhere. Hidden doors. And there’s a rumor that Tambor is protected by something more terrible still!”

Jabba leaned forward. His huge girth shifted on his throne, like a mud slide in slow motion. “You saw those other bounty hunters, Boba. Every one of them wanted this job. Some of them
would be willing to kill for it! Are you?”

“When do I leave?” asked Boba. He tried not to look impatient.

“Almost immediately.”

Jabba turned and spoke to Fortuna in a low voice. The Twi’lek listened, glancing at Boba, then gave a nod, bowed, and left.

“I have commanded that your ship be refueled and supplied,” said Jabba. “The other hunters have already received their assignments from Bib Fortuna. They will be departing soon
as well. But only you will be going to Xagobah.”

Jabba reached into a vivarium. He plucked a single wuorl from the mass of froglike creatures squirming inside the tank, plopped it into his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully.

Ugh!
thought Boba. He quickly looked down, adjusted the relay on his blaster, and waited for Jabba to finish.

“There is a small matter we still need to discuss,” Jabba said. He gave another hearty belch. “Your fee.”

“My fee?” Boba pretended to mull this over.

He knew he must choose his words very carefully. He did not want to appear too anxious, like those other bounty hunters. He must be clever, and sly. Even more clever than Jabba
himself—only Jabba must never know that.

“It is a very difficult bounty,” Boba said at last. “The most perilous I have ever heard of. I have been working for you for several years now, O Most Humongous of Hutts. You,
more than anyone, know how loyal I am to you. And how grateful I am that you have considered me for this task, knowing that I am still young.”

Boba lowered his head. His voice was respectful; but not even Jabba the Hutt could see the determined look in the young bounty hunter’s eyes. “Lord Jabba! I will accept whatever fee
you feel is appropriate.”

Jabba’s vast body seemed to balloon with delight. “Once again, a good answer! You alone show appreciation for my care! You alone I can always depend on. Therefore I will split the
fee the Republic has promised me. I will keep seventy percent. The rest is yours, Boba.”

Only thirty percent! Others might laugh, or argue, but Boba knew better than that—Jabba usually kept ninety percent.

Boba bowed. “Thank you, Most Generous of Gangsters. As you say, I am still young, and learning. And when I return from this mission, I will continue to work for you. By then my
apprenticeship will be over. My fee will be higher. But my loyalty will remain the same.”

Boba’s heart beat fast as he spoke these last words. He was taking a chance, and he knew it.

But being the best bounty hunter in the galaxy was all about chance. He stared unflinching at Jabba and waited for his reply.

For a moment Jabba was silent. His yellow eyes blazed.

“When you return?
When you return?
” he said at last. His body began to shake with laughter. “Hoh hoh! Don’t you mean
if
you return?” Jabba drew
back upon his throne. “Go—now! Ready yourself for your adventure!
If
you return, we will discuss this further!”

“Yes, Lord Jabba,” Boba replied. With a small bow he turned and very quickly left the throne room.

That was a close one!
he thought.

Jabba’s tone and the angry look in his eyes told Boba that he had gone perhaps too far this time!

Boba went to his quarters, a small set of rooms in the easternmost tower of Jabba’s sprawling palace. When he got there, he hesitated and stood before the door.

It had been several months since he had been back. He was never here for more than a few days or weeks at a time, between jobs. Still, these rooms were the closest thing he had to a home.

He knew what he would find inside. His quarters were simple, almost spartan. The rooms of a warrior, with no frills besides a small stack of holobooks at his bedside. Books on strategy,
navigation, Mandalorian weaponry techniques, scouting, and hunting; ancient texts on war.