Chapter Four:
Then, shortly before the events of A New Hope…
The music suddenly went dead, ending with a faltering whine as the last Bith gasped into its instrument. The entire cantina froze and turned slowly towards the door. Then they quite quickly looked away from the menacing figure framed by the night that stood calmly in the entrance. Sand and blood stained the figure, and smoke whispered from a recent burn-hole in its ragged cape. Obviously it had just been accosted by Tatooine's streets, and ought to now be easy pickings for whatever predator chose to finish it off…
But no one would think such a thing of this figure. Not of Boba Fett.
The cantina was dead silent as he stalked through it towards the bar. Everyone was very carefully not looking at Fett, not wanting to catch the hunter's visored eye. Yet every single creature in the cantina was utterly focused on his presence, completely aware of his every move. They were watching him carefully while carefully looking the other way. They were frightened.
Fett ignored them all. He marched to the bar where the slobbish, stained figure of the disfigured human who owned the decrepit watering hole cowered while trying to appear calm. It failed; the reek of its fear-sweat reached Fett's nostrils even through the filter of his helmet. He glared through his opaque visor and speared the creature with his gaze.
Wuher, jowls quivering, nodded and pointed with a trembling hand towards the back of the bar. Fett nodded curtly and placed a coin on the bar as he followed the bartender's gesture. There was a Gotal in the back booth entwined with a blue Twi'lek and a purple-haired human. Fett leveled his cold glare on them. "Move" he said harshly. The girls leapt up and, casting a few wide-eyed glances behind them, scurried away. Fett slid into the booth across from the Gotal. The furred creature was as expressionless as ever; being telepathic among their own species, they had no need for facial expressions. It was one of the few things that Fett could appreciate about the creatures. On the whole, he found them to be too empathic, easily sympathizing with creatures undeserving of consideration. However, they were insightful creatures, and if one could form a proper relationship they made good spies.
Such as this one. Fett held out a gloved hand and the Gotal quickly dug into its jacket pouches. A small tube was quickly placed in his open palm. Fett slipped it carefully into one of his belt pouches and handed the Gotal a small bag. The Gotal jiggled it just enough to hear it clink once, then put the money away. It trusted that Fett would not cheat it; as long as the bounty hunter continued to have need of its services there was no point in such stupidity. And if Fett ever wanted to fire the creature—well, that's what blasters were for.
The bounty hunter nodded, and the Gotal responded in kind. Then Fett stood and, just as calmly, walked back out of the cantina. He could feel the carefully turned-away stares following him out the door. He ignored them. Those were not the creatures whose attention he needed to watch out for.
But they would be coming soon, he was certain.
…………
Bossk grinned. Sometimes, life was wonderful. The Trandoshan fingered his large blaster rifle lovingly as he peered around the corner of the dusty alleyway. Behind him, he could hear the muffled sounds of other creatures checking their own weapons and adjusting their armaments. He almost had a small army behind him, and they would all be taking his orders when the conflict started.
Although Bossk personally preferred the term "hunt."
The Trandoshan was practically salivating at the thought of the particular target. When Black Sun had called and asked if he was interested, Bossk had been hard-pressed not to leap up and howl at the chance. He had a niggling feeling that he could have negotiated a much higher price for this kill, but right now the bounty hunter didn't care. He would have shot this barve for free. It was just a side benefit that he was getting paid at all; did it really matter how high the rate was?
A cold, calculating part of Bossk's mind said, yes, it always mattered what the price was. But that was a very small part of his mind, easily swamped under the hunter's eagerness at the thought of finally getting his sights upon his most hated enemy: Boba Fett.
He couldn't believe his luck. He had been just getting ready to leave Tatooine, having taken care of his business with Jabba a few hours ago, when his comlink had buzzed and a cool voice had informed him that there was a certain bounty hunter on planet that certain factions of Black Sun wanted removed from the gameboard. Bossk had just grinned. So, he thought to himself, the bastard finally upset the wrong people. He had been wondering how it hadn't happened sooner. Fett infuriated him, how could others deal with the armored hunter without feeling that familiar desire to rip his helmeted head off and tear out his throat?
But at last, he was getting his chance. At last, someone else had recognized the need for Fett to die. And at last, the bounty hunter had walked right into Bossk's clutches. The stupid, overconfident fool had made it out of Black Sun's first ambush—hence their call to Bossk—and then made the mistake of showing his visored excuse for a face in the most frequented cantina in all of Mos Eisley. Word had spread quickly, and it hadn't been hard at all to set up a second ambush…this time with Bossk in charge. The flunkies and hit men behind him were all going to be following his orders while he took on—and took out—Boba Fett.
Bossk's toothy grin widened, showing every one of his fangs. Some days, life was good…
The Twi'lek next to him whispered, "we have visual confirmation, boss." Bossk's fingers curled a little tighter around his gun. He would have loved to have leapt out and ripped Fett apart with his claws, but he knew better than to think that he could jump the hunter physically without getting blasted. Maybe he would get lucky, though, and his first shot wouldn't quite kill Fett… Bossk licked his scaly lips. The way his luck looked today, it just might be possible…
"He's almost in position," the Twi'lek breathed. Bossk's muscles tensed and his smile felt like it was about to split his face. It was almost here…he could almost taste Fett's blood on his tongue… A feeling welled up in Bossk's reptilian heart that in another creature might have been mistaken for love. It felt like a warm glow running through his cold blood. The Trandoshan recognized it for murderous rage and long-denied retribution.
The Twi'lek nodded sharply and Bossk threw himself around the street corner as he shouted a command for the others to attack. He squeezed off a row of glowing laser blasts that cut like fingers of shiny blood across the street…
The empty street.
Bossk's gun fell from suddenly nerveless fingers and his fanged mouth gaped open. There was no sign of the bounty hunter at all, no evidence that he had ever been there. The Trandoshan stared, almost feeling tears well up in his eyes. It wasn't fair; Boba Fett was supposed to be dead right now.
It just wasn't fair!
…………
As the Slave I hurtled through the cool black void of space, Fett slipped a small tube from his belt pouch and inserted it into the appropriate slot in the ship's computer. It would take a few time parts to decode the information. He entered the coordinates for a hyperspace jump; hyperspace was the only truly safe place for a bounty hunter. Anywhere else you were perpetually open to attack and had to be constantly on guard. But that was all right; he knew no other way to be. A life without eternal vigilance was a foreign concept to the last of the Mandalorians; it would be like a life without life. Of course, live without such awareness and soon it would be a life without life. You'd be dead.
The Slave slammed into hyperspace and Fett relaxed marginally in the empty silence. He stretched his left arm and decided that the bones had not shifted; they just needed to rest while the compression bandage reformed back to its earlier tightness.
Fett leaned back in the pilot's chair and closed his eyes. Deciding to awake in two standard time parts, the hunter fell into the oblivion that is dreamless sleep. Dreams were for those with regrets or confusion.
Boba Fett suffered from neither.
