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The small indicator light on his wrist mounted data screen pulsed brightly, pulling Boba Fett’s attention away from cleaning his blaster rifle. Slave 1 was coming out of hyperspace and he needed to get back to the cockpit. Fett glanced down at the limp body of the Twi’lek lying dead beside the holding cages. He smirked almost ruefully. Hutts always have a way to find you out, spy or not. He set down his rifle on the small bench he was working at beside some other weapons from the arsenal he normally carried around. His boot treads rang on the rungs as he climbed up the ladder leading to the cockpit. He sat down in the pilot’s seat and secured the crash webbing around him. Slave 1 was built for speed and maneuverability, not comfort. The durasteel frame shuddered slightly as the ship entered realspace. Circumtore filled the viewport. The comm unit clicked on and the voice of a Circumtore landing authority spoke. “Welcome to Circumtore. State your name and business.”
“Boba Fett in Slave 1. I have business with Kheefa the Hutt.”
“Landing access granted. Please move on to hanger 12.” Slave 1 descended into the planet’s atmosphere, her frame shuddering slightly. Being as attuned to his ship as a Jedi with their lightsaber, Fett noticed it immediately. The old ship would need some tune ups soon. Fett would go down to meet Kheefa without all his weapons. He’d only take a few things. His more heavier armaments, like his jetpack, would stay on the ship.
Knowing how high up Kheefa was in the Hutt society on Circumtore, the Shell Hutt was more than likely contacted by now of his arrival. He was right up there next to Nullada, the head of the order on the Shell Hutt home planet. Shell Hutts looked almost nothing like regular Hutts except for the wide heads. Their own slug like bodies were encased in cylinder like cases with repulsor beams on the underside to allow the Hutts inside to move freely, suspended about a foot above the ground.
Kheefa was waiting for him in the vacant hanger, the delicate mechanical hands beneath the Hutt’s floating cylinder clasped together in anticipation. Kheefa was a very old Hutt. He had been around when Boba’s father was in the bounty hunting business. His wide mottled face split into a wide grin as Fett came out of Slave 1, Lob’s body over his shoulder. “Ah, Boba Fett! And so you return victorious. This scum has caused so much trouble for my poor sister,” he said cheerfully as the bounty hunter slung the dead Twi’lek to the floor. Fett straightened and put up a defense shield around Slave 1. Kheefa and he were the only ones in the hanger apart from an old repair droid so one would be enough.
“He won’t anymore. Now, about my payment.” Kheefa chuckled deeply, the sound of his laugh echoing through the empty hanger.
“Quick and to the point. Just like your father. It has already been transmitted to your account,” Kheefa replied, prodding the dead form of Lob. Fett looked at the data reading on his account and saw it had increased but was ten thousand short.
“You’re short, Kheefa.”
“Well, I decided that 100,000 was a bit much so I only put in 90,000,” the Hutt said. Fett pulled a light blaster from his belt and aimed it at Kheefa.
“I decided on 100,000 which is too low for my standards in the first place. You will pay me the agreed price or you’ll regret lowering your price,” Fett said, an almost undetectable hint of irritation in his filtered voice. Kheefa looked somewhat shocked as he stared down the muzzle of the blaster.
“As you wish, young Fett.” He spoke into a small comm link that he pulled from the side of his floating cylinder. Boba watched as the numbers in his account were raised by ten thousand. He almost smiled behind his helmet.
“Contact me if you need anyone brought in.” Fett turned on his heel and walked back to his ship. Kheefa watched him. The Hutt doubted he’d ever hire that barve again. He called for a guard to come pick up the Twi’lek and left the hanger, sweating from his close encounter with death.
Fett raised the shield, walked into Slave 1’s hold, and went up the ladder into the cockpit. He moved to start up the ship, but nothing happened. He tried again, thinking he hadn’t done it right but when once more he didn’t get an answer he knew something was wrong. Someone had tampered with his ship. Someone smart enough to get past the shield, interfere with the ship, get out, and then put back up the shield. He got out of the pilot’s seat and was about to see which wires had been cut to deactivate when the muzzle of a blaster pressed on the back of his helmet. “Don’t make a move. Stand up slowly and put all the weapons on your person on the floor,” a low voice demanded from behind him. He did so, placing two light blasters and a thermal detonator on the floor of the cockpit. “Now, put your hands where I can see them and move down into the hold slowly.” He held his hands out and turned around to see who would dare to go after him. Almost to his surprise, he turned to face a woman. She had lavender hair that fell down to a little past shoudler length and fiery dark hazel eyes, her blaster still pointed at his visor. He paused for a second and a small smile spread across her pretty face. Pretty? What was he thinking? “So, this is the great Boba Fett? Pathetic.” Anger surged through him for a moment but he calmed knowing that would only make it worse. “I expected more from the galaxy’s most feared bounty hunter. Now, down into the hold.” He had no choice but to. He climbed slowly down to where the holding cages were. He’d get his chance. She had forgotten about his dart launcher.