Star Wars_ Tales of the Bounty Hunters - Kevin J. Anderson [23]
Boba Fett had found Han Solo.
Fett’s ship, the Slave I, was currently en route to Bespin, where Solo was heading toward a gas-mining metropolis known as Cloud City.
“We must intercept him,” IG-88 said. “We are bound by our programming.”
IG-88B departed from Mechis III, soaring into space in the sleek IG-2000.
Despite its aerodynamic shape, the IG-2000 created a ripple of sonic booms as it screamed through Bespin’s atmosphere, distorting the cloud tops. As he arrowed toward his destination, the automated defenses of Cloud City sent out a query, taking care of the initial inspection before alerting any human guards to the assassin droid’s approach.
IG-88 transmitted command codes and a breakdown in programming, squelching the normal routines of Cloud City’s defense network. As a result, the alarm sensors left him alone, and the human observers in Kerros Tower did not see even a blip on their traffic grid.
Piloting precisely, IG-88 cruised to the outer landing platforms, using his scanners to detect and analyze the various parked ships. He finally spotted Boba Fett’s Slave I in the mid levels of the city rarely traveled by tourists. Fett’s ship lay like a discarded household appliance on the docking plates as the clouds of Bespin swirled in the background, tinted orange with airborne algae in the coming sunset.
IG-88 landed his own ship on a nearby empty platform, sending a brief covert signal for one of his infiltrated droids to meet him and disseminate information. IG-88 extricated his metal bulk from the cabin of the IG-2000 and plodded toward the dark inner corridors of Cloud City. The breezes on the landing pad whistled through gaps in his body core.
Inside, a silvery 3P0 protocol droid met him—one of the new and insidious reprogrammed droids from Mechis III. This droid, though, seemed to have an attitude problem—acting surly and discourteous, particularly rude to other droids they passed. IG-88 knew this was a result of the new sentience programming, but the droid’s governing routines must be malfunctioning. Although modified droids from Mechis III were indeed far superior to biologicals or even other droids, IG-88’s secret must be kept quiet. No one should suspect that anything untoward had been done to the droid minds.
In a rapid burst of file transmission, IG-88 described why he had come to Cloud City, who he was looking for. The protocol droid stopped and pondered, then uploaded a computer blueprint showing the full display of all levels of the floating metropolis. “Boba Fett has gone to the garbage recycling level. Han Solo has not yet arrived, although moments ago our perimeter scanners reported a ship matching the description of the Millennium Falcon entering the system. It appears to have some hyperdrive damage.”
“Good,” IG-88 said. “If Boba Fett has gone to the lower levels, he must be establishing some sort of ambush for Solo.” He looked at the Threepio droid, flashing his red optical sensors. “Continue your work here,” he said. “Watch for Solo and his party. They are mine.”
The protocol droid gruffly acknowledged, then strutted off.
Inside his mind, IG-88 studied the computer map and plotted a path to where Boba Fett was secretly preparing an ambush. IG-88 would kill the bounty hunter and then wait for Han Solo. The mission would be straightforward—and then he could get back to his real calling on Mechis III.
Cloud City’s dim, industrial levels were cluttered with discarded equipment and locked-down supply cases. From the temperature and the low illumination, IG-88 knew that humans would find this environment uncomfortable. Ahead, in a chamber lit by orange glows and fiery flickers, he heard the clank of a conveyor belt, chittering creatures—biologicals known as Ugnaughts, according to his species files.
IG-88 powered up his weapons, prepared for anything. His heavy metal feet sounded like struck gongs on