All great deeds and all great thoughts have a ridiculous beginning.
Great works are often born
on a street corner or in a restaurant's revolving door.
(Albert Camus)
***
Although outwardly Palpatine remained perfectly calm—which cost him nothing, given his experience—deep within, he was surprised, to say the least. Yes, the epithet shocked described the situation with remarkable precision.
Who would have thought… And what is happening cannot simply be dismissed as luck. Once—no problem. Twice… perhaps. But an entire chain of coincidences following a single man… And are they even coincidences at all?
Apparently, the Jedi, too, had wavered in their composure. Only Yoda seemed indifferent to what was taking place. Palpatine smirked: the old Grand Master had chosen, like himself, to calmly contemplate the situation. And there was much to consider—why events had unfolded this way, how to turn them to one's advantage, and why no one had foreseen such a development.
One had to admit, the incident… resembled a position in Moebius chess, when an insignificant piece, a pawn, suddenly breaks through every line and comes to rest at the center of the board, shattering the carefully calculated strategies of all opponents. Perhaps the next move would be its last—yet for that brief moment, the pawn becomes master of the game, dictating the next moves of its adversaries, forcing them to reckon with it.
Palpatine smiled inwardly.
At present, all of this bore not a philosophical but a strictly practical form. How, what, and why. The past is the foundation of the present, which in turn supports the future. In the same way, any game is built upon similar fundamental principles. There are pieces, and there are players who move those pieces. Their tactics and strategy are nothing more than an open book to one who knows where to look. Not all players, however, understand this and imagine themselves invincible. Naive fools! No matter how brilliant a player may be, there is always a way to defeat him or neutralize his strategy with one's own. And yet players sometimes fail to account for pawns—and that is a mistake. Such an approach is, at the very least, foolish and wasteful.
Well then… For now, everything is proceeding according to plan. Still, it will be quite amusing to observe how events develop further. Will the pawn be able to continue the game?
***
No, really—how does this even happen? What the hell?!…
While I continued, in my thoughts, to curse everyone in turn—the Jedi, the Chancellor, and Jabba himself—events moved along their inevitable course.
"Hmmm," Yoda's ear twitched thoughtfully. "If such is your wish, Knight Vikt will conduct negotiations with you."
Jabba gave a satisfied nod.
"Knight Vikt," Windu said, finally recovering his voice, "the Council wishes to hear your report and provide you with the appropriate instructions."
I did my best not to show my disappointment to those present. Ah, and here I was, naively hoping they'd let me off the hook… I really don't want to wade into this bantha poodoo. And the responsibility… truly of state importance... Mikore, you've landed yourself in a real pickle.
"As soon as I return to the ship, I will contact you immediately," I replied firmly. Windu nodded silently, and the holograms faded.
Turning to Jabba, I asked in Huttese:
"When would it please you to meet for negotiations?"
Jabba beckoned to his majordomo, Bib Fortuna, and murmured something quietly to him. The Twi'lek bowed and left the hall.
"We will conduct negotiations… tomorrow. This evening, however, you are invited to a celebration. My son has returned home thanks to you. That means you are my guests," Jabba announced briefly.
"It is a great honor for us," I said with a bow. Yeah… as if I could have refused. "Then please excuse me—I must settle a few matters."
The Hutt waved a hand, indicating we could depart.
"Let's go, Ahsoka. Puck. Lucky."
We headed toward the exit of the palace's "throne room."
"Master?" the girl walked beside me.
"What is it?"
"Uh… I take it we're not flying home?" the Togruta asked.
"For now… no. I'll be… conducting negotiations with Jabba."
"Oooh," she groaned, "bo-o-oring… Master, can I stay on the ship?"
"Yeah," I sighed heavily. "By the way, we're invited to a celebration this evening. And there's no wriggling out of that."
"Well, that's definitely more fun than all those 'talks,'" my Padawan said, flicking her lekku…
At the foot of the frigate's ramp, beside which a squad of clones stood at full combat readiness, O'Connor met us.
"General!" the Zeltron looked concerned. "Lich—First Lieutenant Cerri reports that ships have entered orbit: six Dreadnaughts and forty Gozanti cruisers. All bearing Hutt insignia. Sir?.."
"Well, Jabba is concerned about security," I explained, catching Grace's wary expression. "Everything's fine. At least we won't be fighting right now. Tell Lichtendahl to stay alert—but no targeting locks on our hosts. That would be impolite, to say the least."
"Yes, sir," the girl exhaled in relief.
Once aboard, I gave my orders:
"So… I've been given the 'honor' of conducting negotiations with Jabba. So… That means we'll be staying here for two or three days. And yes, patch me through to Coruscant—I'll be in the wardroom. Ahsoka, come on."
"I'll issue the appropriate orders," O'Connor replied with a crisp salute.