Star Wars_ Tales of the Bounty Hunters - Kevin J. Anderson [65]
Bossk let his blast rifle dangle. “Chadra-Fan, I will talk with this team instead of shooting them. Leave us.”
Tutti backed around the corner. Tinian almost envied him. At least five of the six bounty hunters would finish the Millennium Falcon job with empty pockets, and she and Chen might fail in their own mission, but Tutti Snibit had just accumulated enough credits to enjoy himself for three or four weeks—maybe even the rest of his life, if he didn’t spend quickly.
Bossk waved at his terminal to hibernate it, then leaned against the bulkhead. He was less back-blind than Wookiees or Humans, but he didn’t trust this pair. “Well?” he grunted. “Make your proposal. Remember, I owe you nothing for approaching me.”
The Wookiee, deep brown with a gloss of silver at the tips of his fur, wore a black bandolier of small-scaled hide. Maybe the Wookiee had chosen to wear reptile skin as a deliberate affront. To Trandoshans, most of a prey animal’s value lay in its skin. Bossk would no more wear reptile skin than eat reptilian flesh. The fact that Wookiees—and humans—ate other mammals’ flesh proved their bestiality.
Chenlambec backed against the opposite bulkhead, leaving the small human vulnerable between them. Bossk smelled no fear on her.
Chenlambec hooted like a cloud ape. After several verses, his apprentice held up a hand and quieted him. “My Ng’rhr has connections among spacefaring Wookiees,” she began.
Bossk snapped, “I don’t trust criminals for information. The fact that you know their language marks you as an accomplice. It is their place to listen, not speak.”
Tinian balled her fists and planted them against her thin hips. “My family kept Wookiees as slaves. The best way to control them was to learn their language. Do we understand each other?”
He refused to let her impress him. “You call him your master now.”
“Excuse me,” she said, “but I am translating. Chenlambec asks me to say that he has connections among spacefaring Wookiees.” She swept a hank of fur behind her left ear, exposing its peculiar pink folds. “One of them suggested a probable destination along the Millennium Falcon’s last known course.”
A current sighting? Information from the Wookiee network? Bossk attended more closely. He would offer the Scorekeeper his left arm for a chance to crack that network (maybe even both arms, since he could regenerate them). Cracking the Wookiees’ network could make him both wealthy and eternally secure. “Go on,” he said. “Where are they headed?”
The big silvertip hootled again.
“He says,” Tinian translated, “that the best way to catch a star captain who’ll sign on a Wookiee copilot is to employ another Wookiee.”
Bossk kept his voice low-pitched, concealing his eagerness. “Where are they headed?”
“First, we discuss forming a partnership.”
“If you help me hunt down Chewbacca and his keeper, I will consider giving you twenty percent of my profit.”
The human narrowed her eyes. “Obviously you think we are amateurs. Fifty percent is traditional. It would still leave you more than you would earn without our help.”
She dared to haggle?
Still, he saw ways of hedging this long shot. Chenlambec’s shimmering pelt was worth easily as much as Chewbacca’s. The silvertip gene was recessive and rare.
And this was the kind of lead he’d been looking for, not old data. He led them to believe he would give thirty percent of his take if they brought him to Chewbacca. Then he asked Tinian quietly, “How did the mighty Chewbacca earn enmity from another Wookiee?”
Chenlambec laid back his head and oop-ooped mournfully. “His crime was unspeakable,” Tinian answered, then she added, “Chen doesn’t discuss his past. Not with me. Certainly not with you.”
The past didn’t matter. Whether or not Bossk located the Falcon, once he lured Chenlambec on board his own ship he was guaranteed a profit.
The human was probably wanted somewhere, too. If not, slavers occasionally took spirited young