Chapter II:
Then, shortly before then events of A New Hope…
Xixor looked out at his "domain" and felt another welling of impatience within himself for the time when it would truly be his…and no longer Emperor Palpatine's. The old fool! And Darth Vader…Xixor's mood turned darker, more vengeful, as it always did when he though about him. His family's murderer…Xixor's hand clenched into a fist, crumpling the flimsiplast note he'd just received. His spy, Kellarra, had made a…misstep. And now, someone knew. Xixor was as unaware as anyone, yet, of just who knew what—but he knew that someone had first, intercepted the last transmission the spy had been sending him, and then killed her. Now, he had yet to find out who that someone was. Which was the second reason he'd thought of Vader. If the Dark Lord knew Kellarra had been contacting him…then the sun would shortly set on Black Sun. They, their plans, and their lives were all forfeit if Vader had made that last, fatal connection between Black Sun and Prince Xixor, and, more importantly, had proof about those connections.
"My Lord?" Xixor turned his attention to the officer who had tentatively interrupted his revere. With dire consequences—they all knew not to disturb his thoughts! How many times had he…
"Why are you interrupting me?" Xixor's words were hissed, barely above a whisper. The technician's boldness melted into fear as he stared at the Falleen noble with terror. He knew the penalties.
"M-my Lord, you asked to b-be informed—"
"I 'asked' to be left in peace! You have deliberately disobeyed my authority!" The dark prince's violet eyes flashed with irritation, as he stood, towering over the cowering subordinate.
"B-but my Lord! It-its B-Boba Fett! You ask-asked to b-be informed when he ar-arived…" the technician's voice went hoarse, and trailed off, as fear robbed the moisture form his throat.
Xixor's black ponytail fell over his shoulder limply, as he calmed down and sat back upon his throne. "Ah. I did. Very well, show him in." I will have a word with you later! Xixor silently promised the thankful technician.
"Yes my Lord!" relief was audible in the few words. "At once, my Lord."
"Dismissed. Go." Xixor curtly cut off his blubbering.
"Yes, my Lord," the bowing technician hurried from the audience chamber, shutting the door.
That door was opened again, almost immediately. Xixor had barely had enough time to regain his composure when the bounty hunter entered.
"Prince Xixor." Did he imagine a slight, slurring insult of the title? Of course he didn't! Fett would respect him…but Black Sun's ruler wondered still.
"Boba Fett, I am so pleased that you came as promptly as you did in answer to my summons!" Xixor's smooth voice barely showed the anger he felt at having been kept waiting, and the insult of being kept waiting by someone of such rank. No matter that the bounty hunter might have been busy plying his trade, Xixor did not appreciate having to pause his plans for the hunter's convenience. A pause at this stage, especially with this trouble over his spy, Kellarra, could be fatal.
Even with his eyes hidden behind the dark visor of his helmet, Xixor could almost see the bounty hunter rolling his eyes. Xixor's own eyes narrowed to violet slits as he glared at Fett.
"Fine. Glad I didn't keep you waiting," the bounty hunter replied emotionlessly. "You wanted me for something?" Xixor could scarcely believe it—had Fett missed the ridicule and sarcasm in his voice? He could be merely ignoring it. But to what purpose? An apology wouldn't fix anything, no, but an explanation would certainly do so, and either would be welcome. Xixor's cold reptilian blood ran warmer, nearly to a boil, the temperature of his anger. He took a breath and calmed himself. It wouldn't do to let the bounty hunter detect any signs of his anger—or Xixor's further plans for him. They were but musings now, but over time, if other pieces fell into place, if the Bounty Hunter's Guild…ruminations over Fett's future and fate would have to be postponed.
"Yes, I do indeed have a proposition to make to you right now, Fett." Xixor let a suspenseful, expectant pause hang in the air.
"Obviously. Why else would I be here?"
Xixor refused to allow Fett's goading to anger him and even managed to smile thinly. "Shall we worry about the character's name after payment has been discussed?"
"Depends." Xixor knew that Fett preferred not to do business that way where private bounties were concerned, but he did. Especially with such delicate merchandise to be discussed, and especially with this bounty hunter.
"Ah, yes. Credits do seem to be the deciding factor where those such as you are concerned, aren't they?" Again, Xixor let an expectant pause hang in the air for suspense.
"How much?" Fett had a most direct way of doing business; you told him who, how much, where, and how you wanted someone, quickly, and he exchanged them for the credits—quickly. If you tried to take up his time with a lot of talk, he might even stalk out the door and forget about it. Xixor wasn't in the mood to experiment with how long he could keep the bounty hunter today despite the enjoyment it usually garnered. The Falleen Prince had an appointment with the Dark Lord soon. One he couldn't miss.
"Shall we say, eighty-thousand credits, for fast delivery?" Xixor smiled at the armored figure.
"For who?" The bounty hunter was not to be discouraged about that information. Xixor would have preferred keeping Fett from knowing until he had agreed.
"Ah, yes. I would like you to bring me the merchandise known as Larrallna Frrecóusé." Xixor was certain Fett would never have heard of her; it had taken even his spies a disgracefully long time to wrangle that information loose for him, as she was the young daughter of one of his many competitors. A competitor that was getting far too troublesome for Xixor's taste! As a complete unknown, Fett wouldn't ever know who he agreed to locate until he was forced to call Xixor and ask for help—and that, Xixor would pay dearly to see!—in finding her.
Fett was silent for a moment before answering—Xixor thought he heard a muffled whisper, almost as if the bounty hunter were talking over a comm to someone—impossible! Fett had never had a partner before—didn't need one, of course, he was the best at what he did. The Dark Prince must be hearing things. He would have to see Guri about that. For someone in his line of business, hearing things was very good, unless those things proved false. In which case it could be—and often would be—fatal.
"No," the bounty hunter spoke decisively in a tone the brooked no argument.
"'No?!'" Xixor was incredulous—a mere bounty hunter saying "no" to him? He, Prince Xixor, ruler of the Black Sun? He, commander of a hundred fortunes? Utterly unheard of! "No!?" Xixor repeated again, stunned.
"No. And it's final." Fett didn't bother to give a reason why—never did—but that only served to incense Xixor further.
"I…see. You are…quite certain, then?" Xixor's eyes narrowed even further, to the barest slits of violet. "And there are no forms of…persuasion…that might profit you to change your mind?" As time from the initial surprise passed, Xixor recovered enough of his wits to smooth-talk like normal, and…persuade Fett to agree with him. Black Sun had many ways to "persuade" creatures to agree with them, and few were as pleasant as the exchange of credits, as Xixor now delicately warned the bounty hunter.
"No." Fett completely ignored Xixor's veiled threat. Completely! Ignored! Xixor was absolutely infuriated—so much so, in fact, that he couldn't even speak to order Fett not to leave, but watched the bounty hunter walk out.
Xixor. Was. Mad.
This was the last time he would allow the bounty hunter such free reign in his region! Ever…Boba Fett had just signed his death warrant—and Xixor would make sure that sentence was carried out…Fett's death, and the end of his insubordination, couldn't be too long in coming for his tastes…
* * *
Fett stalked out of Xixor's palace and blasted away into clean, cold space. The Prince was a full of himself as ever. Sickeningly so. Thinking he could just order the whole galaxy around to do his bidding for whatever reasons pleased his fancy, and for whatever motivation he felt like dishing out. Still, the amount of credits weren't what had prompted Fett to turn down the job—but neither were any ethical grounds. Fett was not averse to tracking down anyone of any standing; rather, it was that fact that children were so annoying when he captured them. Besides, that often ended up with a bad ending; he'd heard of many bounty hunters he had slightly respected who were…otherwise disposed thanks to the transport of young creatures. Not, Fett amended, every species had problems like that. Humans were one if the worst. Whining, begging, sniveling little brats. They had some way of shutting down and becoming worthless merchandise without their guardians nearby--or at least someone they knew. Also, as such small, agile, tireless creatures there were many means of transport that were out—and if they did get out of their restraints, there was no limit to the damage they could unwarily cause, often accidentally killing themselves—or the hunter. And they were just plain bothersome with their incessant questions and demands. And they all thought they were immortal, or that "mommy" and "daddy" would beat the "bad men" and save their miserable little hides.
And here Xixor was trying to fool him into capturing one? Fett would have sighed, if he were given to expressing his emotions. The Dark Prince must have thought that Fett wouldn't know what he was agreeing to. However, any information once pried loose from its moorings was that much easier for someone else to find. In extremely high security matters, even the most experienced slicers left trails that their equals in that profession could exploit. And it helped to have informers all over the place—including in Black Sun—that were willing to tell you what information had been dug out and passed around recently. Every being added to a secret diluted the secret's effect and increased the chances that someone else would hear about it. Fett plotted in his course trajectory and sat while the ship slammed into hyperspace, then reached for his comm system and began punching in some very private code-numbers. One of his many "eyes and ears" was due for a report…overdue, in point of fact. That could be…unhealthy.
As it could be for Xixor if he pushed too hard on this Larrallna Frrecóusé issue.
The comm came through with a burst of static. No answer…but the spy was still alive. Fett muttered a code to the speaker in his helmet and depressed some tiny buttons on his control board. Boba Fett would have known if his spy were dead—and anyway, no reason to take chances—better to make sure that he was in fact deceased. As he would be, now; in five…four…three…two…one…
* * *
On the small moon of Dffr-Addr, Grrn Mllhr skulked in the shadows outside a cantina. He was "Blian Ceindf" right now. A normal denizen of KKlrk's Cantina…but he was also a spy for someone very important. Especially on a planet like this. Grrn had just figured out whom he was really spying for half a day ago. Amazing! Boba Fett…he, Grrn Mllhr, was a spy for Boba Fett. Now it was time to make money off that. He could sell the frequency to a very rich—and very interested buyer. Bossk only knew that he had information about Boba Fett—not what kind of information. Now it was time to cash in. It had taken Grrn this long to just arrange a meeting with anybody.
Grrn looked down at the commlink in his small, gray, three-fingered hand. It had been 5 Standard Hours since he was last "due" to report in, and Grrn was getting nervous. He would have spread a lie—but how was he to know that Fett wouldn't catch on? Now he could always plead busyness…Heh heh heh, I'm busy all right…busy sellin' him out! Grrn glanced down at the comm in his hand, anxiously. Was it getting warmer? Impossible! He'd de-bugged the comm himself, and it'd had nothing on it! Not a single out-of-the-ordinary little microchip! Just his imagination. Shouldn't let yerself get this jittery, Grrn! Just a matter of money, tha's all. Jus' a matter of money…
* * *
Bossk stalked down the dim, dark alleyway. That little scavenger had said he knew something about Bossk's archenemy. Fett…even the name was enough to get Bossk mad. Stupid, melodramatic, why he couldn't have just told me there…Bossk grumbled to himself, stumbling along in the dark. Suddenly, he tripped over something. Almost before he'd hit the ground Bossk was up again, blaster out, senses alert, trying to spot his assailant.
Bossk sneezed—the Trandoshan version of a sneeze, that is. After standing tensed a few more minutes Bossk let his guard down, and went back to the dark shape he'd tripped over. What in the name of the Eggshells of…Bossk stared at the body. Still warm…only just died…It was the little scavenger he'd been about to deal with…Bossk's vision went red. Why was it that whenever he was about to get a step up on Fett, someone had to go and be so nasty? Why'd the fnarling jerk have to die now? Couldn't the galaxy just have let Bossk take care of him? Blian Ceindf...the little idiot! Bossk managed to make himself investigate further. Blian Ceindf was clutching a small, fused lump of metal. It looked like it might once have been a commlink. A strange smell perfumed the air around Ceindf. Bossk sniffed again, and discovered that it had started from the...commlink? No! Bossk snarled to himself, enraged. Fett! I'll kill him! I'll rip him limb from limb! That slimy little son of a… Bossk jumped away from the body quickly. If it was poison, Bossk himself might be in danger.
The Trandoshan bounty hunter stormed off. Bossk was livid with anger.
All Trandoshans kept long, grudge-filled memories. Every insult was marked off, every abuse was accounted for. Somebody was always blamed. On Bossk's own list, another instance had been added. With the same name as every other one. Boba Fett…
* * *
Guri stood in the doorway of Xixor's private sanctum. Without turning around, Xixor rebuked her, "You know I don't like being disturbed in here." Which, Xixor realized as he spoke, was pretty pointless. Guri knew almost as much about his institution as he did. As much as any creature could claim. "Well?"
Guri didn't bother answering. Instead, she walked forward and handed Xixor a datapad. Xixor glanced at it disdainfully, before starting to toss it away. Then he stopped. It was information about Frrecóusé Co. Inc. The same Frrecóusés he'd been trying to get Boba Fett to kidnap the daughter of. With an effort, Xixor pushed the bounty hunter to the back of his twisted mind. Apparently, they were expanding their operations into Xixor's territory. Apparently they'd been doing so for some time…Xixor's short rush of anger turned cold. His species, the Falleen, were cold, dispassionate, a throwback to their reptilian heritage, and so was Xixor's fury.
"We must see that these…matters are taken care of." Guri nodded silently. Xixor continued, "I want you to go meet with their representatives. Let them know how…displeased we are." Guri nodded again, then turned and left the room.
Xixor tossed the datapad against the far wall, and sank back down in his chair, trying to reachieve the state of calm he'd had previously to Guri's entrance. He couldn't. His mind was buzzing with annoyance. Frrecóusé Inc. had paid off his own spies to keep them from reporting to Xixor. Well. They were going to be sorry. Then Fett had refused to capture—so what if it was more like kidnapping?—Larrallna Frrecóusé, the young daughter of that company. Oh, they were going to be sorry.
They would all be sorry.