Shards of Alderaan Page 3

  disbelief.

  A murmur went up from the Jedi trainees, and Tenel Ka turned to see the

  Millennium Falcon making its final approach through the cloudy skies of

  the jungle moon.

  "I think that will be all for now," Master Skywalker said in a concerned

  voice. 'Please return to your activities while I welcome our unexpected

  guests."

  At the teacher's dismissal, Jacen and Jaina took off for the landing

  field at a run, with Lowbacca and Tenel Ka following close behind.

  At first Jaina was too stunned to speak when Han Solo swept her up in a

  quick hug, the n repeated the process with Jacen.

  Lowie and his tall uncle Chewbacca ex changed happy roars.

  Chewie tossed the twins high into the air by turns and caught them

  again, as if they were mere babies, while Han put a hand on Luke's

  shoulder and began talking in a low, urgent voice. Jaina finally

  managed to ask her father what he was doing there. She was almost

  afraid of the answer, since they had been through so many changes, had

  heard so much bad news recently.

  "Hey, you wouldn't want your old dad to become predictable, would you?"

  Han said, flashing a roguish grin. "I've got a few surprises left in

  me. Just finished a trip to GemDiver Station to see Lando on my way

  back from an important trade conference.

  When your mom got some disturbing news, she thought it'd be best if I

  stopped by to deliver it in person."

  Imagining the worst, Jaina felt the blood drain from her face. "What is

  it, Dad?

  what's happened?" In her heart, she feared that it was something else to

  do with Zekk, some other dark thing he had done.

  Han's face looked grim. "I need to talk to a student named Raynar Thul.

  Do you know him?"

  "Of course we know him Jacen said.

  All of a sudden, as if from nowhere, the boy himself appeared out of the

  mist beside Jaina. He had followed the young Jedi Knights in their rush

  to the damp landing field.

  "I am Raynar Thul. You may address me directly."

  Looking at the blond-haired boy, Han sighed. "I'm sorry, kid, but I've

  got some rough news. I'm afraid your father's disappeared. No one's

  heard from him for several days."

  Raynar's normally rosy compleidon paled.

  "My father is too important a man, a former noble of Alderaan. He can't

  just disappear.

  There must be some mistake."

  Han gave Raynar a sympathetic look.

  "Afraid not, kid. Your father and I have been serving on the New

  Republic Trade Council together. We were supposed to meet at a major

  conference on Shumavar, but he never showed."

  Raynar swallowed hard as Han Solo continued quickly. "'Bout a week ago

  your father told me he was starting trade negotiations with a Twi'lek

  woman, Nolaa Tarkona, who's heading some new political movement. He was

  supposed to finalize the details with her during the Shumavar

  conference. Wasn't sure why, but I smelled something rotten in the

  deal. Tried to warn your father, but he wouldn't listen to me."

  Raynar's cheeks flushed deep red. "Bornan Thul always listens to sound

  advice."

  Han shrugged. 'Well, I guess he wasn't too impressed by the advice of a

  former smuggler who managed to marry well. At any rate, your father

  never arrived at the trade conference. Your mother contacted us on

  Coruscant a few days ago, said your father disappeared without a word.

  His brother hasn't heard from him either. Has your dad tried to contact

  you at all?"

  Raynar shook his head, then raised his chin. His eyes flashed. "Has a

  proper team been organized to look for him? We should begin a search

  immediately. I'll lead it myself, if need be. I could-"

  "Just a minute there, kid," Han said,

  holding his palms out. "I got strict orders

  from your family to make sure you stay here with Luke. That's the best

  protection I can imagine. If your father's been kidnapped by some

  unsavory types, your mother and your uncle don't want you out in the

  middle of things. We sure don't want to have to track you down and

  rescue you, too. Best thing you can do for the moment is to lay low and

  let us do the looking."

  Feeling a rush of sympathy for Raynar, Jaina put a hand on the young

  man's arm.

  "I'm sure it'll be all right, Raynar," she said.

  Raynar threw back his shoulders and sent Jaina a frightened look that he

  tried to mask with disdain. "Of course it will be all right," he said.

  "My father's an important man." He looked back at Han Solo.

  "Very well then. I'll stay on Yavin 4. Just see to it that you have

  competent searchers looking for my father."

  -----------------SPACE WAS VAST, an infinite pool in all directions . .

  . whether up and out of the galactic plane, or deeper inward toward the

  Core Systems. The galaxy held countless hiding places: planets,

  asteroid fields, star clusters, gas clouds . . . even these empty

  wastelands without stars.

  It would take the best of bounty hunters to find any quarry under such

  circumstances.

  And Boba Fett was the best.

  He cruised through the wilderness between star systems, all sensors

  alert, scanning for any sign of his prey. He had dropped out of

  hyperspace in his ship, the Slave IV, just long enough to take data. On

  this stop, his sensitive detectors picked up no energy readings, no sign

  of any ship's passage within half a parsec. Nothing had crossed this

  empty no-man's-land in the past decade.

  Grim and persistent, Boba Fett studied readings through the narrow

  T-slit in his Mandalorian helmet. He nodded, but spoke no word into the

  flight recorder. Boman Thul was not here. He would have to search

  elsewhere. The hunt might be long, but in the end no one could elude

  Boba Fett. No one.

  He clutched the Slave IV's modified controls-propulsion systems,

  navigational computers, and acceleration foils that were illegal in many

  systems. But Fett paid no attention to legalities. Mere laws did not

  apply to him. He obeyed his own code of ethics and morality: the Bounty

  Hunter's Creed.

  Launching his ship into hyperspace again, Fett replayed the holomessage

  Nolaa Tarkona had sent to him. His assignment for this hunt. Perhaps

  he might find other clues there. He already knew the message by heart,

  had listened to it eight times on his journey, but he studied it once

  more anyway.

  Boba Fett carefully observed the female Twi'leks face: the folds around

  her pinkish eyes, the greenish cast of her skin, her pointed white

  teeth. Nolaa Tarkona's one green-skinned head-tail dangled from the

  back of her skull and curled around her shoulders. Her voice was deep

  and melodious, not the dry, crisp hiss he might have expected from a

  surreptitious crime lord.

  Tarkona led a growing political movement known as the Diversity

  Alliance. Nothing overtly criminal . . . at least not yet.

  Boba Fett did not care about his employer's politics or her reasons.

  That was not a bounty hunter's business. She had set the bounty, and

  Fett had a job to
do.

  The hologram spoke. "Boba Fett, your fame has spanned decades and

  crossed the galaxy-now I offer you the greatest assignment of your

  career." The Twi'lek woman stroked her head-tail. Her eyes looked like

  disks of rose quartz glowing with internal fire.

  "Find the man named Bornan Thul, an important trade commissioner from

  Coruscant. He was a member of the nobility on Alderaan before that

  planet was destroyed, and he has become a trade negotiator in the New

  Republic government. I sent him as my intermediary to procure a

  valuable cargo containing certain information crucial to the Diversity

  Alliance. He was to deliver that shipment to me at the Shumavar trade

  conference, where I was scheduled to give a speech. But his ship

  vanished en routeand my information disappeared with him.

  Find Boman Thul. I must have that cargo.

  She leaned forward, her mouth opened in a smile that showed off her

  jagged teeth.

  "When Darth Vader hired you to find Han Solo, the bounty was quite

  substantial. I will pay you twice that if you find Boman Thul and bring

  me my cargo. A few other bounty hunters will be searching as wellbut

  you are the best, Boba Fett. I expect results from you."

  Inside his cramped cockpit, Boba Fett switched off the holoprojector and

  swept his gloved hands through the dissolving sparkles of color as the

  three-dimensional image faded. 'You will have results," he muttered,

  his voice loud and raspy in the oppressively silent ship. . . .

  Approaching another solar system in which there were no catalogued

  planets capable of supporting life, Fett dropped out of hyperspace to

  continue his search. His navicomputer had a map of all star systems in

  the sector where the trade negotiator had vanished. His data banks were

  crammed with unusual information and reports, any bit of which might

  give him a clue that would lead to the discovery of his prey.

  Boman Thul had flown alone in his ship, refusing the standard diplomatic

  escort to which he was entitled. Secretly checking through New Republic

  flight records, Fett saw that this was quite an unusual request for

  Thul. The former Alderaan noble, a fair pilot at best, preferred large

  escorts and excessive pomp and ceremony. Flying off alone in a supply

  cruiser seemed highly uncharacteristic for this man.

  Fett wondered if Thul had discovered something unusual about the nature

  of his cargo, or its importance to the Twi'lek political leader's

  movement. Boba Fett himself did not know what information the cargo

  contained. He had only to find it and return it to Nolaa Tarkona.

  Fett approached the bleak, uninhabited system-a small double star with

  three frozen gas planets in distant orbits and two rocky inner planets.

  After a few moments of scanning, the Slave IV's sophisticated sensors

  detected processed metal, faint lubricants, traces of stardrive fuel,

  and spin-sealed Tibanna gas-a strong enough reading to indicate a whole

  ship. The source seemed to be located inside the ragged strands of a

  rocky ring that surrounded the outermost gas planet.

  Boba Fett nodded in respect. A good place to hide, and a good system in

  which to remain hidden. With a bright flare of its sublight engines,

  the Slave I-V horned in on the sensor signal.

  Fett had studied the history and family of Bornan Thul, hoping for

  clues. Understanding his prey was the best way to catch it. The

  Alderaan noble had a wife, Aryn, who remained under heavy security on

  her own fleet of trade ships . . . a brother, @ko, who kept himself

  heavily guarded in his administration facilities on the

  droid-manufacturing world of Mechis III . . . and one heir, his son.

  The young man, Raynar, had attended the best schools, studied under the

  most efficient tutors, and was now enrolled in Skywalker's Jedi academy.

  Obviously, Bornan Thul doted on his son and gave the boy everything he

  desired, with the result that he had worked for nothing in his life.

  In fact, Raynar Thul might make a good hostage-if it came to that.

  But perhaps it would all end here at this out-of-the-way planet.

  Most of Fett's detector readings were indistinct and scattered due to

  ionization and outgassing from the broken rocks and ice chunks in the

  planetary ring. Thul's ship might have crashed into some ring debris,

  scattering wreckage in a broad swath. A low, growling sound came from

  deep within Boba Fett's throat. The bounty would be cut in half if he

  found nothing but the wreckage of Thul's ship. The Twi'lek woman cared

  only about recovering the information from its cargo.

  Fett looked out the Slave I-V's cockpit windowport as he cruised into

  the swirling strip of rocky debris around the blue and white ice world.

  Following the sensor signal, he pulled up close to several long chunks

  of scattered metal: hull plating, blast shields from a space

  vessel-unmistakably, wreckage from a ship. Recent wreckage.

  Fett ran a quick analysis and determined that the hull plating matched

  that of the type of vehicle Thul had been using.

  He allowed himself a grunt of disappointment. Perhaps everything had

  been destroyed, cargo and all, leaving only this debris.

  But if that were true, Fett realized, there should have been more mass .

  . . much more. His sensors had picked up a signal strong enough to

  account for an entire ship, and this debris amounted to no more than a

  hundred kilograms or so. He wondered where the rest could have gone.

  Maybe the cargo and its "crucial' information remained intact after

  allHe reacted with lightning speed as the attacking vessel came around a

  ri-ozen methane asteroid. Another bounty hunter ship, shaped like a

  deadly pinwheel star, its laser cannons already taking aim!

  Boba Fett sent Slave IV into a spin, twirling away from four rapid-fire

  laser bolts. The ambushing bounty hunter did not continue to shoot his

  lasers, powering up an ion cannon instead -which was exactly what Fett

  would have done. An ion cannon blast would neutralize all power systems

  on his ship, leaving him dead in space, where his enemy could dissect

  him at will and strip away his possessions and weapons.

  A bounty hunter, a good bounty hunter, always attempted to make

  efficient use of resources.

  Fett's weapons systems were not engaged. He mentally cursed himself for

  not having considered the danger while he'd approached the suspicious

  debris. If he continued to be so foolish, he deserved to die!

  This fighter had been lying in wait for him. Perhaps the other bounty

  hunter had found the debris himself, or perhaps he had actually placed

  it there as a lure. Or perhaps the enemy had destroyed Boman Thul's

  ship.

  As Boba Fett zipped and dodged, the attacker came on, clearly holding

  the upper hand. Fett tried to accelerate, ducking in and around the

  rocks of the planetary ring, but he knew that was merely a delaying

  tactic. He had no chance of evading pursuit when his attacker was this

  close.

  A message came over his conun system.

  "Boba Fett, I recognize your ship. This is Moorlu-the bounty hunter

  who's go
ing to destroy you." The enemy chuckled, a low phlegmy laugh.

  "I will display your helmet as in trophy!"

  y "I'm not a trophy yet,' Fett muttered.

  Planning the best way to defeat his overconfident opponent, he took a

  desperate gamble.

  Boba Fett allowed himself to be hit.

  The ion blast rippled against the Slave IV's hull, ftying his electrical

  systems, leaving him dead in space, so that he drifted around the

  gaseous planet, apparently helpless.

  Apparently.

  "Got you, Boba Fett! Now I can take care of you, steal everything you

  own-and use it to chase down Bornan Thul."

  Moorlu, you talk too much, Fett thought, as the comm system shut down.

  Dangling in the arms of zero gravity, without ship's power, he waited as

  the other bounty hunter's pinwheel ship approached like a spider-rat to

  disassemble its prey.

  Moorlu didn't notice the pneumatic launcher mounted at the rear weapons

  hatch of Slave I-V.

  Boba Fett cranked the launcher by hand, using mechanical systems only.

  He waited patiently to take his only chance. At least the comm system

  had shut down, so he didn't have to listen to Moorlu's obnoxious