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right. Tomorrow you begin a new job for me, Boba—off-planet!”

CHAPTER THREE
    Off-planet! Yes!
    Boba wanted to punch the air in excitement.
    “When do I leave?” he asked.
    Jabba watched him approvingly. “I am glad to see you are pleased at the prospect,” he boomed. He picked up a squishy, star-shaped glubex, unpeeled its head from its body, and ate it,
slurping loudly. He held out the empty skin to Boba.
    “Uh, no thanks,” said Boba.
    Jabba belched and went on. “Many would be terrified at the very thought of traveling to Xagobah in these troubled times. But I think my instincts about you are correct. You do not seem
afraid.”
    Boba hesitated. “My father taught me that fear can be overcome,” he said at last. He felt a pang at the memory of his father, Jango Fett—the mighty bounty hunter, slain by that
murderous Jedi, Mace Windu. “He always said that a good bounty hunter ought to know his prey as well as he knew himself. Knowledge is power. Fear is energy. And with power and energy, one can
conquer anything. One can defeat any enemy.”
    Jabba stared at him through slitted amber eyes. “Your father taught you well, Boba Fett.”
    “What he did not teach me, O Jabba, I have learned from you.”
    Jabba’s enormous mouth opened in a bubbling laugh. He reached for the withered stalk of Jhordvar’s arm and waved it as though it were a fan. “Hoh hoh! In that case, you have
learned well indeed!”
    Jabba tossed Jhordvar’s arm into the shadows. “But you will need all your knowledge, young Fett,” he said. “And luck wouldn’t hurt—not where I’m sending
you.”
    Boba waited patiently. He knew better than to interrupt Jabba.
    At this point, Jabba’s major-domo took over. “Last week a high-ranking member of the Republic Senate contacted the great Jabba. Completely confidential, of course,” the
obsequious Bib Fortuna said with an evil smirk. “They want it to appear that they are working through the proper channels. They have put a bounty on the heads of many leading Separatists. Our
Lord Jabba had agreed to help them hunt down these scum. Everyone knows his bounty hunters are the best,” Bib Fortuna added, gloating. “Even the Republic!”
    Boba smiled. His hand moved instinctively to the blaster nestled at his hip. “So you want me to hunt them down?”
    “No.” The Twiilek gestured dismissively at the empty hall. “Lord Jabba will let those others do that.”
    Boba glanced at Jabba. The crime lord was watching him closely. Boba kept his expression calm. He waited as Fortuna continued. “Jabba has something much more hazardous in mind for
you.”
    Boba nodded. “Great!”
    “Have you ever heard of a Separatist named Wat Tambor?”
    “No,” said Boba.
    “He is the Separatists’ Techno Union Foreman, as well as a combat engineer. A brilliant strategist. And extremely dangerous—an expert at fighting machines, and a master of
defense technologies. He is also an expert at escape. The Republic captured and detained him at a high-security facility. But several of Tambor’s followers from the Techno Union freed him,
with the assistance of a Clawdite shapeshifter.”
    “A Clawdite,” repeated Boba, scowling. “I have grown to hate Clawdites.”
    He didn’t say why—namely that a young shapeshifter had robbed him while Boba was on Aargau, trying to regain his father’s fortune.
    “Lord Jabba’s sources inform him that Wat Tambor is now on Xagobah,” said Bib Fortuna. “He has taken refuge in his fortress there. Republic troops have laid siege to his
hideout, using a clone army led by a Jedi Master named Glynn-Beti.”
    At the word “Jedi,” Boba’s face grew grim. He didn’t explain that he had actually met Glynn-Beti, back on the assault ship
Candaserri.
She had even shown
kindness to him; she had never learned his real name or parentage. Glynn-Beti was a Bothan, cream-furred and small—less than a meter and a half in height. But she had great presence and