Star Wars_ Tales of the Bounty Hunters - Kevin J. Anderson [13]
His skill and strength were obvious, his morals nonexistent. IG-88 was an assassin for hire, plain and simple, and he knew he would find an assignment.
His first choice was the backwater planet Peridon’s Folly, a little-known world that received few visitors from out of the sector. The Empire would wonder why IG-88 had chosen such a minor, irrelevant place, but he had another target to meet there if he found no legitimate work.
Peridon’s Folly was an obsolete weapons depot run by black marketeers who sold antique arms to smugglers and crime lords. Though the weapons were far too outmoded and inefficient for regular Imperial use, the black marketeers dealt in a brisk trade.
The planet had been carved into territories by various weapons runners, its surface a patchwork pattern of embattled commercial sectors laced with high-tech docking gear, communications systems, and defense outposts. On the fringes lay desolate “testing” zones where rediscovered weapons or uncertain designs from the stockpile were detonated to impress customers or warn rival weapons runners.
Within a day IG-88 was hired, escorted off by two thugs working for a petty dictator named Grlubb, who was embroiled in a feud with another weapons runner.
The thugs were brawny Abyssin cyclops creatures with green-tan skin and arms that hung down to their knees. IG-88 wasn’t sure if Grlubb was attempting to intimidate or impress him, though the assassin droid could have slaughtered both of the one-eyed monsters in less than a second. He decided that the brutes were merely bodyguard escorts. The Abyssin no doubt intimidated everyone else in the cantina, and now all the gunrunners on Peridon’s Folly knew that IG-88 had been hired by Grlubb.
The petty dictator was a small, rodent-faced creature with a scarred nose and stubby feline whiskers that had been burned off in a recent duel. Grlubb surrounded himself with dozens of monstrous guards armed to the teeth, sometimes including teeth.
“One of my rivals,” the rodent-faced dictator said, “has begun to develop unethical weapons. I simply cannot tolerate such behavior, especially from an inferior.”
“What weapon can be unethical?” IG-88 asked, curious as to what this weasely creature considered beyond the pale of possibilities.
“Biological weapons, insidious nerve gases—you know, things that don’t make a bang. That takes most of the fun out of it.”
Grlubb slid a datadisk across his desktop, and IG-88 reached forward to pick it up in one powerful metal hand. As he moved, a dozen weapons suddenly cocked and trained themselves on the assassin droid, as if daring IG-88 to make a move against Grlubb. Because IG-88’s metal framework body could show no expressions, the other bodyguards had no idea how amused he was that they believed they could protect this dictator should IG-88 actually want to kill him.
For his own amusement IG-88 ran a target map and calculated that he could probably kill every one of the guards in less than five seconds while sustaining minimal damage to himself. It might be enjoyable, he thought, but not true to his programming—certainly not if he hoped to sell his services as a bounty hunter to other clients. This first mission must go off perfectly.
IG-88 fed the datadisk into his input reader, summarized the information. “It shall be done,” he said. “Give me until this afternoon.”
Grlubb cackled and rubbed his clawed hands together. “Thank you! Thank you very much.”
• • •
IG-88 chose to use brute force rather than finesse. Blatant destruction would leave a much clearer calling card.
He marched across a blasted wasteland that had been used for testing projectile weapons and detonating explosives that spread clouds of caustic gases. IG-88’s bulk left cratered footprints on the lifeless hardpan as he headed directly toward the target stronghold dug