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"I ... I don't know what you're talking about. . . ."
Cradossk grabbed the other's wrist, in a futile attempt
to ease his hold and get another breath into his own lungs. "The Guild... the
Guild is for all of us. ..."
"I'm talking about the same thing you were talking about, just now." With his
other hand, Bossk pointed a clawed thumb back toward the unlit depths of the
bone chamber behind him. "I was in there the whole time the two of you have
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been blabbing away. And I heard everything you said. All that stuff about
clearing out the undesirables from the Bounty Hunters Guild. And you know
what?" Bossk tightened his hold, his fist at
Cradossk's throat lifting the older Trandoshan up onto the claws of his toes.
"I agree with you about all that.
You're absolutely right The Guild is going to be a lot smaller. Real soon.'"
"Don't... don't be an idiot...." Cradossk managed to summon up a reserve of
courage. "You can't kill me ...
and get away with it...." His claws dug deeper into
Bossk's wrist, enough to let a trickle of blood seep down his son's forearm.
"I've got . . . connections . . .
friends. . . ." His voice became weaker and more fragmented as the hold at
this throat constricted tighter. "All the . . . council of elders..."
"Those old fools?" Bossk sneered at his father. "I'm afraid you're a little
behind the times; there have been things happening already that you just don't
know about.
Maybe if you didn't waste so many hours in here, mumbling and fondling your
moldy reminders of past glories, these things wouldn't have sneaked up on you
quite so fast."
Still holding Cradossk upright, he turned and slammed the older reptilian
against the table outside the bone chamber's entrance; the impact against his
spine visibly dazed Cradossk. "Some of your old friends, your beloved elders,
have already seen the light; they've come over to my side. In fact, some of
them have been on my side for quite a while, just waiting for the right moment
to-shall we say?-force your retirement. One way or another." The elaborate
wording, so much different from Bossk's usual blunt speech, was a cruel way of
toying with his father.
"Of course, some of the elders weren't so smart; they per sisted in their
folly. Right up to the end."
"What . . ." Cradossk could barely squeeze any words out at all. "What do you
mean . . . ?"
"Oh, come on. What do you think I mean?" Bossk looked disgusted. "Let's just
say there are going to be some fresh acquisitions in my little trophy chamber.
The skulls of some of your old friends will look very nice mounted on its
walls-"
"Watch out!" Zuckuss shouted a warning to Bossk.
As Cradossk had fallen back against the table one of his hands had reached
back and grasped an ornate ceremonial dagger; the gems embedded in its hilt
flashed
as he swung his arm around, the point of the blade aiming straight for Bossk's
throat.
There was no way for Bossk to avoid the blade; if he had leaned back, the
movement would only have presented a wider target for the blade to slash
across. Instead, he lowered his head, catching the razor-sharp edge with the
corner of his brow. The impact of flesh and bone against metal was enough to
knock the weapon out of his father's hand and send it spinning off into a far
corner of the room.
Ta king a hand from his father's throat, Bossk wiped away the blood seeping
down through his face scales and into his eyes. "Now that," he said with eerie
self-
possession, "didn't hurt at all." With a shake of his head, he sent blood
spattering across Cradossk's face, as though sealing the bright ideogram of a
death sentence there. "But I promise you- this will."
From the doorway, Zuckuss could hear shouts and blaster fire coming from
somewhere else in the Guild compound. That didn't surprise him; it had been
pretty much what he'd been expecting since the Twi'lek majordomo had gone off
to notify the others in the breakaway faction.
He turned back toward Cradossk's private quarters and watched the rest of what
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happened in there. For as long as he could. Then he stepped out into the
corridor, shaking his head.
Bossk was certainly right about one thing, he had to admit. It did take a lot
to kill a Trandoshan.
The sound of the breakaway faction's weapons was heard even farther away.
Not literally; the news was reported secondhand to
Kud'ar Mub'at. "Ah," the assembler purred, "that is most excellent!"
Identifier had relayed all the details to him as they had come in from the
listener nodes embedded in the web's fibrous exterior. "Isn't it pleasant,"
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