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Then, she made her way through the reinvigorated party atmosphere to where the bounty hunter Boba Fett stood silent guard. "Excuse me, sir," she said timidly, reaching a hand almost to his shoulder and then stopping, as if she'd been planning to tap him there and had suddenly thought better of it. "My name's Arica-I just came in today. That thing with the bounty hunter-that was pretty scary. Does that sort of thing happen often?" For a long moment he just stared at her, and for that same long moment Mara thought the game was up. Boba Fett had done a fair amount of quiet work for the Empire over the years, and it was entirely possible that he had spotted her at some point in the Emperor's entourage. She reached out with the Force, trying to touch his mind. But his control was excellent, and nothing she could read gave her any clues.

"Nice to meet you, Arica," he said at last, in that flat voice that so terrified his victims and impressed his employers. "Don't worry about Boushh-he might have looked crazy right then, but he's not. And don't worry about anyone else. Jabba knows who can be trusted. No one else gets in." He tapped the blaster rifle at his side. "And I stay around here a lot between jobs."

"I'm glad," Mara breathed. "Thank you-I feel much better."

The bounty hunter moved smoothly and efficiently, with incredible speed. Before they could blink, a thick cable lashed out from a device on Fett's wrist and wrapped itself around Hoole, pinning his arms to his sides. In the same motion, Fett brought his other hand up. A flash of light blinded Zak and Tash, and Zak felt his arms and legs go limp. As he hit the floor, Zak thought he was dying. Then he realized that he could still see he just couldn't move. Boba Fett had hit him with some kind of stun bolt.-Chpt.2 pg.14

The tentacles slashed around him, a sound like a thousand whips cracking, drowning out Fett's voice. He shoved, got his right foot solidly against the ground and pushed upward. The switch in the jet pack's emergency access panel, digging into the soft wall behind him, was pushed down as Boba Fett pushed up.

Flame erupted in the enclosed space around them. The Sarlacc itself shrieked in pain, a sound that echoed away down the tunnels, the hundreds of tentacles around Fett whipping themselves into a frenzy, those that held Fett constricting so tightly that for an instant he could not breathe. The jet pack had never been intended to be run in such tight quarters for any length of time. It exploded. It was his oldest possession; the Mandalorian combat armor that was almost as famous as he was, famous the galaxy wide. It had protected him, down the decades, from blaster fire and slugthrowers, explosions and knives, from all the various insults the universe was apt to throw at a man in his line of work. But not even Mandalorian combat armor, designed by the warriors who had fought, and sometimes defeated, Jedi Knights, had been intended to withstand an exploding jet pack in close quarters.

Fett could not have been unconscious for more than a few seconds; he came back to awareness unable to breathe. The jet pack's fuel had splattered down the length of the corridor, and the corridor was burning, and so was Fett. The flame touched his skin in exposed places, on his arms and legs and stomach, and flames danced on the surface of his combat armor, the armor itself cracked, broken open by the force of the explosion, and everywhere the armor touched him the metal was scaldingly hot.-Chpt.18 pg.382

She lost her footing and jarred her shoulder. Dazed by pain, she would have tumbled helplessly out of the cargo bay but for a cable that whipped about her waist and dragged her back toward the bounty hunter. At the same time, a stubby missile protruding from the top of his jetpack launched itself out into the void. Halfway between the cargo bay and the hanging ship outside, its tip unfolded into a grappling hook that an instant later found solid purchase on the side of the ship. The cable binding Juno brought her within arm's reach of the bounty hunter. Unaffected by the rapidly thinning atmosphere, he slapped a breather across her face and bodily threw himself out of the cargo bay, taking her with him. She kicked and struggled but his grip and the cable combined were impossible to resist.-Chpt.14 pg.190

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"That's impossible," snapped Bossk. "That wall's monocrystal-chained; we'd have heard any blast powerful enough to get through it. Unless..." A sudden suspicion hit him; he glanced over his shoulder to the opposite wall. A sonic dissipator, the dials on its silvery ovoid surface trembling at the overload point, hung overhead by its automatically extruded gripfeet. The indicators slowly backed away from their red zones as the impact of the wall-breaching explosion was converted into a harmless sibilant whisper. The rage inside Bossk leaped up, as though it could blow out another hole, even bigger and hotter. That crossbred spawn of a... The curse died between his gritting fangs. There was only one bounty hunter who used that kind of sophisticated-and expensive-equipment. Either it had been smuggled into the counting room somehow, or-more likely-an access hole just big enough for the device had been drilled through the wall, followed by the explosive charge itself when the dissipator had been activated to soak up the noise.-Chpt.4 pg.38

Fett took one step down the corridor, and something small and hard ricocheted off the back of his helmet. Fett whirled and fired as the small object was still bouncing away in midair. A drinking glass, struck by Fett's blaster bolt, shattered into a thousand pieces. Another drinking glass leaped off a shelf and flew toward the bounty hunter. This time, Fett simply swatted it aside with the back of his hand.-Chpt.2 pg.15

"Spare me your tedious legal analysis." Bossk had locked the concentric rings of the tracker sight onto the distant craft. "If Boba Fett wants to lodge a complaint against me, he'll have to do it from the other side of the grave. If enough of him can be scraped up to put into one." He ignored the rest of Zuckuss's tiresome fretting. His index claw hit the main fire button, and a quick rumble rolled through the Hound's frame. On the screen, a brilliant white tracer shot toward the icon representing Boba Fett's ship. "Got him!" The shot must have caught Fett completely by surprise; he'd taken no evasive action at all. What a fool, thought Bossk with contempt. That's what you get for trusting other bounty hunters.-Chpt.8 pg.77

"Something's wrong," said Zuckuss as he looked about the Slave I's empty hold. "Something's always wrong, as far as you're concerned." This time, though, Bossk wondered whether his partner might be right. A sense of un- ease crawled across his scales; he drew his blaster and slowly scanned across the open hatchways. Zuckuss reached over and poked a gloved finger at one of the bulkheads. The thin material wobbled back and forth; another poke, and Zuckuss's finger went right through it. "It's a decoy." Zuckuss gave a few more exploratory proddings to the hold's confines, with similar results. "That's why there's nothing here-it's just a shell!" He turned toward Bossk. "No wonder your shot went right through. There's no real mass to have taken the hit. It's like shooting through flimsiplast." Rage boiled up inside Bossk, nearly blinding him. "That slimy...” Words failed him. He stomped toward the dummy ship's aft section, shoulders smashing apart the sides of the flimsy hatches. "This is why we got a positive identification." Zuckuss had followed behind, into what would have been the cockpit if they had been aboard a real ship. He pointed to a beacon transmitter mounted to one of the space's curved walls. "Look-you can see that it's been programmed with the Slave I's ID profile." Zuckuss nodded in admiration.

“Setting up something like this takes a lot of work; you have to force through overrides almost down to the subatomic level. And then to build it back up with the false data. . .” He stepped back from the unit. "Fett must have had this decoy already prepared, just keeping it for sometime when he'd need it." Even behind Zuckuss's face mask, there was a hint of amusement as he glanced over at Bossk. "Like when he might be heading into some territory where creatures might have a grudge against him."-Chpt.8 pg.77-78

Bossk charged down the corridor, rifle clutched in both sets of talons, and into the casino's accounting room. Or what was left of it: the smoke from the thermal charges' explosion had lifted enough that the scattered taliputer and vidlink terminals could be seen. Along with the bodies of a half-dozen casino guards-each one had had a laser hole drilled through the chest plate of his uniform with impressive accuracy. "And speed", Bossk managed to note. None of the guards had even managed to get his weapon unslung and up into firing position; whoever had taken them out had done so in a matter of seconds.-Chpt.4 pg.38