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command despite her diminutive size—the power and authority of a Jedi.
    And nothing could change Boba’s mind about that.
    He said, “I hate the Jedi, too.”
    But not Ulu Ulix, Glynn-Beti’s Padawan,
Boba thought. Ulu was the one Padawan he genuinely liked.
    Jabba nodded. Fortuna continued, “I know. And the Separatists supporting Wat Tambor have assembled a huge counterforce—hailfires, spider droids, the most technologically advanced
battle droids anyone has ever seen. To reach Wat Tambor you will first have to get through Republic and Separatist lines—no member of the Republic forces on Xagobah must know you have this
assignment.”
    “I understand,” said Boba.
    “Do you?” Jabba’s mouth suddenly split into a cold smile.
    Fortuna resumed speaking. “Once you have breached the Separatists’ forces—if you can—you still have to enter the Citadel. Wat Tambor designed it himself. He focused all
of his technological knowledge to one end: to make that fortress invincible. No one has ever penetrated its defenses. No one—not even a Jedi. And even if they did, inside, there are traps
everywhere. Hidden doors. And there’s a rumor that Tambor is protected by something more terrible still!”
    Jabba leaned forward. His huge girth shifted on his throne, like a mud slide in slow motion. “You saw those other bounty hunters, Boba. Every one of them wanted this job. Some of them
would be willing to kill for it! Are you?”

CHAPTER FOUR
    “When do I leave?” asked Boba. He tried not to look impatient.
    “Almost immediately.”
    Jabba turned and spoke to Fortuna in a low voice. The Twi’lek listened, glancing at Boba, then gave a nod, bowed, and left.
    “I have commanded that your ship be refueled and supplied,” said Jabba. “The other hunters have already received their assignments from Bib Fortuna. They will be departing soon
as well. But only you will be going to Xagobah.”
    Jabba reached into a vivarium. He plucked a single wuorl from the mass of froglike creatures squirming inside the tank, plopped it into his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully.
    Ugh!
thought Boba. He quickly looked down, adjusted the relay on his blaster, and waited for Jabba to finish.
    “There is a small matter we still need to discuss,” Jabba said. He gave another hearty belch. “Your fee.”
    “My fee?” Boba pretended to mull this over.
    He knew he must choose his words very carefully. He did not want to appear too anxious, like those other bounty hunters. He must be clever, and sly. Even more clever than Jabba
himself—only Jabba must never know that.
    “It is a very difficult bounty,” Boba said at last. “The most perilous I have ever heard of. I have been working for you for several years now, O Most Humongous of Hutts. You,
more than anyone, know how loyal I am to you. And how grateful I am that you have considered me for this task, knowing that I am still young.”
    Boba lowered his head. His voice was respectful; but not even Jabba the Hutt could see the determined look in the young bounty hunter’s eyes. “Lord Jabba! I will accept whatever fee
you feel is appropriate.”
    Jabba’s vast body seemed to balloon with delight. “Once again, a good answer! You alone show appreciation for my care! You alone I can always depend on. Therefore I will split the
fee the Republic has promised me. I will keep seventy percent. The rest is yours, Boba.”
    Only thirty percent! Others might laugh, or argue, but Boba knew better than that—Jabba usually kept ninety percent.
    Boba bowed. “Thank you, Most Generous of Gangsters. As you say, I am still young, and learning. And when I return from this mission, I will continue to work for you. By then my
apprenticeship will be over. My fee will be higher. But my loyalty will remain the same.”
    Boba’s heart beat fast as he spoke these last words. He was taking a chance, and he knew it.
    But being the best bounty hunter in the galaxy was all about chance. He stared