"An eastern affair is a delicate thing," a certain famous character used to say.
Watching the massive blast door of Jabba's palace entrance slowly rise, I wondered if I should just blast this armored panel with the Force? It was unlikely the Hutt would file a complaint against me with the Temple. But I didn't want to take the risk either.
After the exhausting trek across the Dune Sea, for the benefit of Tatooine's crime lord, all this slowness felt like a mockery.
"They're not exactly happy to see us," Luminara remarked, pointing to a fat gaggle of Gamorrean guards pouring out of the gates. Pig-like sentients, in comical medieval harnesses, carrying absurd medieval halberds. In this day and age, when our spaceships plied the vast expanses of the galaxy...
"That's logical, since we're late. I'll bet Dooku has already been buzzing in the Hutt's ear about what villains the Jedi are."
"That sounds like him," Luminara nodded.
Meanwhile, another iconic figure from the original trilogy approached us — the butler of the local crime king, Bib Fortuna. Upon closer inspection, the Twi'lek disgusted me. I'd known members of his race (female ones, admittedly). Unlike them, Jabba's servant was clearly ugly. Orange eyes, long lekku he wrapped around his neck, that nasty, smirking grin, ridiculous forehead growths... Ugh, in a word, Gollum.
The Twi'lek, meanwhile, sized us up with an extremely haughty look. I was amazed! Did we come here to beg for alms, or what?
"Lord Jabba wants nothing to do with the Jedi."
"The fuck you say?" I inquired politely. Though I had a pretty good idea of the answer.
Apparently, the Twi'lek hadn't had much contact with sentients suffering from an excess of eloquence in a simple and accessible form. Because my question completely stumped him.
"My friend is asking," Luminara intervened, "why Lord Jabba changed his mind?"
"Count Dooku informed him of your involvement in the death of his son," our monochrome friend explained. "Therefore, to avoid straining relations with the Republic, Lord Jabba graciously allows you to..."
"Shove your graciousness up your ass," I requested. "We've got a night of a romantic walking tour across this fucking planet behind us. If you take the word of a bunch of pi... lovers of same-sex love" I corrected myself just in time, remembering that Jedi or not, Luminara was still a woman — "then I have news for you. Rotta is alive and waiting for his daddy to deign to move his fat ass and bring him home. Because," I raised my voice, cutting off Bib who had started to speak, "Dooku's servants shot down our shuttle with Rotta on board, then tried to kill us in the middle of the desert. If Lord Jabba has already decided we're guilty, then his head is as empty as the sands of the Dune Sea!"
Fortuna absorbed the information with a blank face, then, tilting his head to the side, said, "I must inform the master of this..."
"I think I'll tell him myself." I had no desire to stand around in the heat, so, like Luke Skywalker, I used Jedi persuasion. The butler's eyes bulged as he received the suggestion from me, like one of Kashpirovsky's patients: "The news is so important that Lord Jabba will be furious if he learns that anyone other than himself heard it."
Not letting the Twi'lek recover, I quickly walked inside the palace. The Gamorrean mercenaries, who had tensed up, were immediately stopped by Fortuna himself. Under the influence of the suggestion, he didn't dare do anything rash that might incur his master's wrath. All the better. "Won't have to slice the pork thinly," I thought.
Moving through the dim corridors of the Hutt's dwelling, I was surprised to find that the monastery on Teta differed in architecture from the Hutt's home. Though I had thought the opposite. It seemed the monks hadn't standardized their architectural solutions. Not that it mattered to me.
Despite the fact that no one from the palace inhabitants was accompanying us, the mercenaries, slaves, and generally unpleasant sentients we met along the way didn't try to stop or detain us. Dozens of wary eyes followed us. In the Force, I felt the distrust and suspicion of these beings, but without an order, no one wanted to mess with Jedi. Strange behavior, if you ask me. What if the Jedi had come to kill Jabba?
"Is this wise?" Luminara said quietly. "Barging in on a Hutt... This could backfire on us..."
"The main thing is to get to him," I assured her. "And we'll sort everything out on the spot."
The master of this entire establishment met us in a vast hall, packed to the brim with various hangers-on. Jabba reclined on a massive dais, which only emphasized the status of its owner in the eyes of those present. In my opinion, the Hutt was asleep. However, to my surprise, I saw the figure of Bib Fortuna standing obsequiously next to the Hutt. "How the hell did he get to the slug faster than us?"
Spotting me and Luminara, Fortuna began reporting to his master in a loud whisper.
"Master. Rick Dougan is here, a Jedi. Hero of Christophsis."
The phrase seemed to have no effect whatsoever.
But as soon as we appeared, the oversized worm raised his huge head, roaring a bass note that filled the entire area. Those present stirred, rapidly retreating to the walls of the room, disappearing into arched alcoves, leaving me and Unduli in the center of the room. Glancing at the grated floor, I smirked, giving Luminara a barely perceptible signal to be careful. I didn't remember exactly when they put the rancor in the pit below, but I didn't want to check if that amusing omnivorous beast was already there or not.
The translator droid, having carefully absorbed the fat slug's outpourings, turned its shiny head towards Fortuna. "Ah, 3PO, is that you?" a crazy thought, like an empress, flashed through my mind.
"Mighty Jabba declares that you are a fool, Bib Fortuna. He ordered you not to let the Jedi in here."
"But I had to let him speak with you, Jabba!" the ugly Twi'lek insisted. However, the Hutt paid no more attention to his butler, pushing him into the arms of guards who had appeared from nowhere. A pair of grunting Gamorreans dragged Fortuna away under the arms to a place where he would apparently learn the full extent of the Hutt's wrath, who meanwhile launched into a new tirade.
"Great Jabba asks how you, the murderers of his child, dare to show yourselves before him. Jabba does not forgive the use of old Jedi tricks on his people. Death awaits you..."
At the translator's last words, a good dozen sentients around us raised their blasters... Well, it was forgivable. They didn't know they were dealing with your average lame-Jedi.
"If we are Rotta's murderers," I said patiently, "then why is the child still alive and well?"
The Hutt bellowed something again, squinting his huge eyes at me.
"The master wishes to know why you would stoop so low as to deceive him. Count Dooku..."
"Count Dooku is a liar and a traitor," Luminara entered the conversation. "His subordinates captured your little one, held him, and when we tried to deliver him, they shot down the shuttle with the child on board..."
The Hutt, not waiting for the end of the sentence, started bellowing again.
"Mighty Jabba does not believe a single word you say..."
"I didn't risk my life so that Jabba could doubt me." I think my contempt was understandable even without translation. I stepped forward, causing the thugs to tense up even more. The Force was thick with tension and fear... Luminara, without a word, stood behind me, ready to activate her new blade if necessary.
"Whatever you're planning," she said quietly, "do it quickly."
Using the armor's computer, under Jabba's watchful gaze, I activated the built-in holoprojector.
"Oli?"
"Teacher!" The girl perked up, as if I had roused her from a nap. "I'm so glad. How are you? You were silent for so long, I started to worry and..."
"I need to see the Hutt."
"What? Oh, I understand." For a moment, a hint of disappointment flickered across the girl's face, but she instantly pulled herself together and disappeared from the lens, only to reappear the next moment with the little one in her arms. "Here he is, what's wrong with him?"
Seeing the hologram of his son, the father began to bellow loudly, making my ears ache. The little one, hearing the familiar voice, turned his gaze and started smiling and cooing. Or maybe that was just baby Hutt language?
The gangster's jubilation lasted for several minutes, during which no one dared to interrupt him. I wouldn't be far from the truth if I thought that Desilijic Tiure was asking the little one about things only he would know, to make sure the kid was really his. Though, maybe Huttlets couldn't even talk yet?
Either way, about five minutes later, after another round of the Hutt's words, his droid spoke.
"Merciful Jabba forgives the Jedi and demands that they hand over the one who dared to attempt the life of his son. Otherwise, there will be no deal with the Republic."
"Lord Jabba," I addressed the Hutt, nodding at the hologram. "I am ready to give you answers to all your questions. But first, I ask you to send ships to the crash site and bring the little one home."
The Hutt grumbled something, and practically all the mercenaries left the room. Only a handful remained — about ten people. Well, seeing a Trandoshan face, I realized I was a bit hasty with the "people" part.
"Teacher?" my Padawan looked at me worriedly. "Is everything okay with us?"
"Yes," I assured her. "Help will arrive soon. Master Unduli will be among them."
"Good, but I think..."
"We'll talk later," I unceremoniously cut the connection.
"Mighty Jabba," I addressed the Hutt. "Allow my friend — the Jedi Master — to go with your people and take care of my student and the wounded soldiers who, sparing no effort, guarded your son from the Separatists."
The Hutt grunted indifferently and waved his hand. Another couple of mercenaries separated and disappeared into the palace passages. Without turning around, I felt in the Force that only three Gamorrean guards remained behind me. Unduli placed her hand on my shoulder, silently said goodbye, and followed the departed mercenaries.
As soon as she left, the Hutt spoke again. The translation droid listened to his speech for several minutes, then announced:
"The Great Jabba believes that you, Jedi Knight, deliberately sent your partner away to speak in private. But he has nothing to discuss with Jedi. He was misled by the Separatists, but both the Republic and the Order failed to hold up their end of the deal. The kidnapper of his son has not been found..."
"I dare to assure you, O incomparable Jabba," I grinned, turning back to my computer, "that even if the Republic and the Jedi did not fulfill your demands, I personally have certainly met the terms of our agreement. I hope this small formality will help us find common ground?"
Jabba frowned and grunted a few phrases.
"The master demands proof," the translator interpreted. "If you don't have it, Jedi, you'd better leave the palace..."
"Oh, but I do have it..."
* * *
Ignoring the acrid stench of burnt flesh that stung her eyes, Shea continued her efforts to loosen the prisoner's tongue. The protocol droid, with its characteristic pedantry, recorded everything the captive could share.
He had long since stopped threatening every imaginable or invented punishment, and only whimpered and moaned softly when his short arms brushed against one of the damaged areas of his massive body.
Still, the Mandalorian was aware that the information they had extracted in the dungeon was only a small part of what the prisoner could reveal. But Mandalore the Avenger possessed enviable patience and composure. So torture and questions alternated, and the captive kept talking, talking... dates, events, people, account numbers, passwords...
Shea smirked, thinking she hadn't made a mistake by hiring Rivas Nuodo and his "Company." The guys had proven extremely effective at achieving their goals, so the credits spent on them would pay off handsomely.
But despite the Duros's assurance that the "Company" had specialists of this profile, she hadn't allowed them to interrogate the prisoner. The information needed was too valuable.
While slicing a tattooed patch of skin from the captive's back, she heard the holocomm beep.
"Don't go anywhere," she asked the prisoner, who was tied firmly to a massive metal slab. He just nodded his head rapidly in agreement. The wounds were still fresh... Or rather, the area where skin had once covered his belly. Now, only a strong muscular frame and a thick layer of fat kept his insides from spilling out. But this position caused unbearable pain. Which helped loosen his tongue.
"Shea," Dougan greeted her. "That apron suits you."
"I know," the girl grinned. Over her armor, she wore a handmade leather apron, designed to keep blood off the armor plates. "Sewn it from the skin of our mutual friend. Waste not, want not."
Hearing the Mandalorian's words, the prisoner shrieked hysterically.
"What's that?" the Jedi inquired.
"Looks like he remembered me cutting his skin off," Vizsla shrugged.
"They want to talk to him. About the kidnapping of Jabba's son."
"He's not quite ready for..."
"Shea!" the Jedi said with emphasis.
"Whatever you say," the Mandalorian spread her hands. She moved the portable holoprojector so it stood before the prisoner's face. The human hologram changed to the image of an ugly Hutt head.
"Ziro?!" Jabba exclaimed.
The uncle of the Tatooine crime lord raised his head, meeting the speaker's eyes.
"Jabba..." he greeted his nephew quietly. Glancing at Vizsla's figure standing behind the hologram, and receiving her permission, the tormented Hutt licked his dry lips and said, "I have a confession to make..."
* * *
I waited patiently while the relatives sorted things out. Ziro quietly recounted his collusion with Dooku; Jabba listened in silence, occasionally interrupting with questions. Ziro spoke in Galactic Basic, while Jabba asked questions in Huttese. Still, even without a translator, the gist of the conversation was clear.
Ziro described in detail how he planned to oust his nephew, how he wanted to seize power in the Hutt Council. About Count Dooku's involvement and the agreements with the Confederacy. About the fate of little Rotta, who was meant to be a bargaining chip...
Even from the inexpressive face of the Tatooine Hutt, I could read his contempt for his relative and the full gravity of the problems that had fallen on his head. Especially when Ziro mentioned that he had compromising material on the Hutt Council, hidden on the same planet where the kidnappers had taken Rotta...
Jabba, noisily drawing air through his massive nostrils, rumbled a question.
"I gave up the hiding place's location when I was captured," Ziro admitted. "I don't know if they found it..."
At that, I cut the holographic connection.
The Hutt looked at me disapprovingly.
"I dare to assure you, they did find it, mighty Jabba," I said. "Everything Ziro had collected on the Hutt Council and on you specifically — it's all in my hands now. Including information about your involvement in fabricating evidence for the Jedi by the Governor of Galidraan..."
The Hutt squinted, muttered a few phrases to the translator.
"The Great Jabba is certain this is a bluff. Otherwise, the Jedi would have reported it to the Order..."
"Of course, an ordinary Jedi would have," I assured the Hutt. "But not in my case. I believe that between us, mighty Jabba, there can be excellent partnership relations. Beneficial for us both. You can make a good profit from this... Or you can die."
The representative of the Tiure clan just laughed at my words. He slammed his tiny (compared to his whole body) hand down on a control panel I hadn't noticed at first.
With a metallic clang, a small hatch opened before Jabba's throne, which, as I recalled, led to the rancor's lair. But the hatch was a meter or so away from me.
"I don't like being underestimated, Jabba," a warning came from under my mask. The lightsaber leaped into my hand. "I'm giving you a chance..."
Jabba roared again, causing a pair of thick Gamorreans behind me to stir. What are two morons against the full power of the Force?
A casual wave of my hand, and both bodies hit the floor with a dull thud, accompanied by the sound of heads rolling across the floor.
Pointing the blade at the Hutt, I politely inquired:
"Any more rash actions? Or," I pulled an information crystal from my pocket and tossed it to the Hutt, "will you take a look at what I have?"
* * *
After silently listening to Commodore Kreeves, Yoda thoughtfully stroked his chin. Then, bidding the officer farewell, the Grand Master, leaning on his cane, slowly shuffled away from the holographic terminal.
"The Hutt's behavior is unusual," came from his side after several minutes of silence. "First Master Unduli's disappearance, now Master Dougan's luring out..."
"As well as the blockade of our squadron in orbit of Tatooine," Oppo Rancisis reminded him. "These coincidences bode no good."
"Are they coincidences?" Yoda murmured.
As always, the "teacher of teachers" was right. The Hutt's behavior was too suspicious. That alarming silence, the disappearance of two Jedi. Intelligence reported Confederacy ships spotted in the system. And even — Count Dooku's personal starship, which had left Tatooine. A thousand questions, and not the slightest answer.
Yoda and Rancisis — these were all the representatives of the Jedi High Council currently on Coruscant. Urgent matters and the dire situation at the front had forced most of them to personally lead large clone units.
However, at the instigation of the Chancellor's supporters, volunteers had also begun to be accepted into the Grand Army — so-called militias, auxiliary regiments. The Republic simply couldn't afford to maintain a multi-billion army of clones alone, no matter how much it wanted to — the Kaminoans' services proved exorbitantly expensive. This spawned endless new squabbles in the Senate... And it seemed there would be no end to either the war or the infighting in the Senate.
Of course, the current Jedi were nothing like those who had dominated the battlefields thousands of years before the Clone Wars. Oppo understood this better than anyone — as the Order's best strategist, he was the first to learn of the Jedi and clones' victories and defeats. And defeats were becoming more frequent.
Oppo's calculating mind had long since figured out that continuing this blatant conflict would weaken the Order so much that the Jedi wouldn't regain their former glory for a long time. Too many were dying in battle. And the simplest calculations were enough to understand — if the war lasted a few more years, it would be fought by yesterday's Padawans who had barely constructed their lightsabers. Meanwhile, the Republic faced economic turmoil against the backdrop of an ever-increasing debt to the Banking Clan. And, as one might expect, political turmoil would soon follow.
Master Rancisis was no longer at an age to foam at the mouth trying to prove to the Council the excessive passivity of the current state of affairs. Consulting historical chronicles, he had more than once observed examples of how the Jedi had managed to prevent the fragmentation of hundreds of states by merely eliminating those who consciously acted against the people's interests...
Gazing at the night sky of the Galactic capital, lost in thought, Master Oppo almost missed the moment when the holoprojector lit up, forming a three-dimensional image.
"Master Dougan, Master Unduli!" the Grand Master greeted the Jedi softly, without a trace of concern, as if he hadn't been worrying about their mysterious disappearance a minute ago. "We were beginning to worry."
"Minor issues with the Separatists," Dougan explained vaguely. As before, he appeared before his interlocutors in ancient armor, his face hidden behind an armored mask. Some Temple servants even compared him to the Temple Guards — Jedi charged with the sacred duty of protecting the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. However, in Oppo's opinion, there were no similarities — except perhaps the habit of wearing armor and hiding one's face. The silent Unduli merely nodded to confirm his words. "We are currently guests at Lord Jabba's palace."
"Master Dougan," Rancisis interjected. "Did you complete the mission?"
"Precisely, esteemed Council members," Unduli joined the conversation. "Jabba's son has been safely returned to his father. The latter, in turn, is ready to conclude an alliance agreement with the Republic. The hyperspace routes of Hutt Space are already open to the Grand Army of the Republic's ships. However, at the same time, the Hutts are prepared to receive a Republic representative to finalize the alliance treaty."
Stunned by what he heard, Oppo looked at the small master. Yoda returned a look of utter bewilderment.
"No one expected the Hutts to follow Jabba's lead. We were counting on Hutt neutrality, but an alliance..." Rancisis stroked his beard. "This is illogical. The Hutts dislike the Republic and wouldn't restrict themselves with an alliance treaty..."
"But, at the same time," Luminara said, "it is so. The Hutts are ready to send their draft agreement immediately..."
Rancisis exchanged another glance with the Grand Master.
"How did you manage this, my friends?" Yoda asked the obvious question.
"Oh," a chuckle came from under Dougan's mask. "I was very persuasive..."
* * *
"Lord Jabba expresses his personal gratitude, and the gratitude of all Hutts of his clan, for the service rendered by the Republic and the Jedi," the droid monotonously intoned, relaying the quiet, bassy phrases of the chief Hutt on Tatooine.
Positioned on the other side of the holographic projector, I could observe from the shadows the figures standing before the crime king. And I unabashedly studied their facial expressions.
The Chancellor, as always restrained and slightly benevolent, with an expression of immense responsibility for everyone and everything, merely nodded in time with the translations. I had no doubt that cats were scratching at his soul. The simple combination had been a resounding failure. My big black heart was warmed by the fact that I had a hand in it. It was pleasant to kick an enemy from the shadows who didn't even suspect you yet. Although, Valkorion whispered, it was time to fade into the shadows and not get in the Sith's way — let him believe that my disruption of his plans was just blind luck. Lull his vigilance before the next blow to the gut.
The representatives of the judiciary, the Chancellor's office, the government — whose electronic signatures were required on such a significant document — remained unrecognized by me. Not that I really wanted to know. My business was on the sidelines. I knew the main figures of Palpatine's entourage without this theatrical display.
On the Hutt side, it was simpler — the Hutt Council had given Jabba something like a power of attorney to act on their behalf. Well, of course, after his delightful demonstration of Ziro's compromising material...
Palpatine's hologram smiled politely.
"Excellent, Lord Jabba. I am endlessly glad that your child has finally returned home. There is nothing sadder than separating a child from its parents. Were you able to identify the culprit of this terrible crime?"
Jabba reluctantly grumbled a few phrases, which the translator rendered extremely diplomatically, informing the Chancellor that this was an internal Hutt matter.
"This day will go down in galactic history," Palpatine promised. "For the first time in many years, the Republic and the Hutts have found common ground."
"Master Jabba hopes that the Jedi who made all this possible will not be forgotten," the droid translated another portion of the slug's chatter. "The Lord asks that this be considered a personal wish. A small concession in return for the one he obtained from the Hutt Council — allowing the Republic Army to use the hyperspace routes of Hutt Space before the treaty is signed."
"Without a doubt, esteemed Jabba," the Chancellor assured him. "Master Jedi Dougan and Unduli will receive the rewards they deserve."
The Chancellor was distracted for a moment, then returned his gaze to Jabba's bulk.
"My assistants assure me that our alliance treaty is now fully legitimate, and from now on we are allies. A copy of the treaty has been immediately sent to you, most respected Jabba."
The Hutt languidly bid farewell to the man, and then, at his gesture, one of the two blue-skinned Twi'lek slave girls turned off the holocommunicator and swiftly removed it from sight.
This time we were in the Hutt's private chambers. Unlike the reception hall, it was much more spacious here — like a football field. The lion's share of the room was taken up by the Hutt's bedchamber — I couldn't see it well, as the passage was closed. The slug and I were "hanging out" in the living room. Richly laden tables groaned with drinks and delicacies. The floor, covered with long-pile carpets and soft cushions, along with tapestries hanging on the walls and canopies decorating the arched spans.
The air was thick with the scent of incense, which I inhaled through my nostrils.
The Force and bacta had fixed my face, so in a private, confidential conversation with the Hutt, I decided to observe the rules of decency and removed my mask.
Jabba was sprawled on a huge featherbed, exposing himself to the breezes created by the fans of several slave girls. There were five of them in the chambers — a human woman, two Devaronians, and two blue-skinned Twi'leks who looked like two peas in a pod. The Devaronians attended to their master, feeding him, massaging his thick body, and keeping him from getting stuffy.
The Twi'leks looked after the table and hovered around me. The woman, like a Cerberus, stood not far from the Hutt's bed, watching everything with a keen eye. I'd bet my head — a personal bodyguard. Or a concubine. Or maybe both. In any case, they were all excessively sexual, and their light clothing only teased the eye and stirred desire.
"It's been a long time since I've seen a Jedi as close as I see you now," for some reason unknown to me, the droid stopped using its usual manner of speech and began relaying the Hutt's words in the first person. "And never before have Jedi been in my private chambers. Not as enemies, not as prisoners, and certainly not as allies."
"It's a pleasure to be a pioneer in this matter," to avoid having to answer Jabba's subsequent questions immediately, I used the Force to pull a bowl of fruit towards me and began leisurely peeling the skin off a green mandarin analogue. "As in the matter of an alliance with the Hutts," I tapped my fingers meaningfully on my datapad.
The Hutt smiled. Apparently, the situation amused him.
"I could have expected such treachery from anyone, but not from a Jedi," he remarked. "Compromising material on the entire Hutt Council... I hope Ziro suffered when he told your people his secrets?"
"He is still suffering," I noted. "No matter how much he recorded on his crystals — he keeps even more in his head. I will take it all."
"Should I take that as a threat?" the Hutt snorted. "Ziro was acting against me. His most intimate secrets are the secrets of my clan."
"Why would I threaten an ally?" I feigned surprise. "Did we make a bad deal, Jabba?"
"Power over the Hutts in exchange for complete submission to you?" the Hutt laughed. "What could be good about that, Jedi?"
"At first glance, nothing but problems," I nodded. "But look at both treaties — with me and with the Republic — more broadly. Republic interference in your internal affairs is unacceptable. The Hutts control their own space and the movement of Republic ships. The Republic, meanwhile, will come at the first call to defend the borders of Hutt Space if the CIS invades. Plus, there's the economic benefit. The Hutts are rich, but your sphere of interest is limited to your own territories. Step outside it, and a sector fleet will come to raze all your endeavors to the ground. The treaty with the Republic will allow you to effectively operate openly outside Hutt Space. Who's going to check that your refugee aid camps aren't what they claim to be? Besides, food quotas for refugees will let you make a tidy profit from the Republic, feeding those whose planets have been destroyed by war. And what about the clause on post-war reconstruction? That's a twenty percent profit margin."
"And you will put your maximum effort into this?" the Hutt smirked.
"Of course," I assured him. "Soon my army will kick the Separatists out of most of the worlds they hold. The Republic doesn't care what happens to the Outer Rim. That's where the Hutts come in, who, as it was written in the treaty, 'cannot remain bound by their own interests in the hour when the galaxy stands on the brink of war and billions of beings suffer from the atrocities of the Confederacy's mechanical armies...' Powerful, isn't it?"
"Couldn't have put it better myself," Jabba chuckled. "But what guarantee is there that my affairs will remain secret from the Jedi?"
"Afraid of revenge?" I grinned. "It didn't bother you when you ordered the fabrication of evidence on Galidraan. Or when you helped Senator Orn Free Taa control drug flows. Even the capture of Quinlan Vos and his apprentice — all at your clan's instigation. And then there's your favorite slave trade... Although, personally, I'm more interested in your active role in financing the Loyalist Committee, which is holding back the growth of the Republic's war machine..."
"Enough," Jabba interrupted. "We both know many details about each other, young Jedi."
"Oh, really?" I grinned. "And what do you know about me?"
"More than you might think," Jabba squinted, as if trying to remember. "You flaunt your Force, but you underestimate the power of corruption. I know about your deals with Incom, Sienar, the Rendili, and the Corellians. Your company is recruiting MY pilots," the translator emphasized the ownership. "And I asked myself — why would a humble Jedi need such complex schemes?"
Maintaining an air of bored indifference, I was meanwhile calculating several ways to quickly kill the Hutt.
"And what conclusion did you reach?" I inquired.
"Power," Jabba concluded. "I have lived in this world for over five hundred years and seen much. Call it nostalgia if you like, but I see in you those traits of power-hungry schemers who walk over heads to reach the top."
"That sounds like an insult."
"Not at all. Power should be in the hands of the strong. You understand this — otherwise, you wouldn't have given me power over the Hutts. They are ancient fools," Jabba waved his hand in a direction meant to symbolize the Hutt Council. "Their ambitions are insignificant, their desires are sated. They have lost the desire for greater power, content with the crumbs they possess now. But that's not enough for me."
"You want to build your own empire?" I grinned.
"And don't you?" the droid echoed me. "The Jedi created a clone army that could have subjugated the Republic in an instant. But you gave the army to politicians. To those who don't know what to do with it. This proves the Jedi's blindness, their shortsightedness. Over the years, your Order grows weaker. I didn't see it myself, but my older relatives told me stories about those Jedi who ruled sectors and planets — the Jedi Lords, as they were called. And their states flourished."
"An interesting history lesson," I gestured for a slave girl to pour me a cool drink. "But you're getting away from the point."
"Oh no, young Jedi. You are the one deceiving everyone. You have an entire fleet being prepared for construction — enough to hold an entire oversector under your control. Your mercenaries and followers from Christophsis are enough cannon fodder to hold off the Republic's army. The freighters being built on Corellia are your transport arteries. And on top of that, you have all the forces of the Hutts... When you seize your oversector, neither the Jedi nor the Separatists will be able to respond. A lightning strike from Christophsis to Ryloth — and the planet is under your control. And the Twi'leks will welcome with open arms the one who makes life and business difficult for Graxol Kelvyn. Won't you tell me what you did with all those slaves from his convoy that you were supposed to guard?"
"Is that really important?" I inquired. "Those Twi'leks got a chance at a new life, a new home, stable work. Unlike their kin, they weren't thinking of selling themselves into slavery, like, for example, them," I pointed at the Twi'leks. "So I gave them a new life."
"And along with it, hope for those still there, on Ryloth," the Hutt snorted. "But these are all details."
"And a good opportunity for blackmail," I suggested.
"Why would I blackmail my partner?" Jabba feigned surprise. "Especially since I've been promised a thirty percent profit from the reconstruction work..."
I smirked. The agreement with the Republic stipulated that the final amount of payments to Hutt companies involved in refugee support and world reconstruction would be determined by the oversector government. As you might guess — in the near future, that's my oversector.
"You fat, slippery, impudent slug," I said...
"My very best qualities, human," the crime king laughed.
* * *
Taking advantage of the pause during which the palace master consumed an unimaginable amount of food, I enjoyed the finer things. Yes, you understood correctly — I was admiring both Twi'leks.
I don't know what this mania is, but I'm wildly into beautiful alien women in this galaxy far, far away.
When I looked back at Jabba, he asked:
"Do you like them, Jedi?"
"Their master has excellent taste," I remarked evasively.
Jabba laughed, then gave several commands in Huttese. Both Twi'leks listened and moved closer to me. One sat behind me and began massaging my neck with her thin but strong fingers. The other kept giving me hungry looks.
"They are sisters," Jabba noted. "Ann and Tann Gella. Former slaves of the local champion — the Dug Sebulba. He bought them from me a little over ten years ago," the Hutt sighed. "I took them back when he left Tatooine after winning the Memorial Race of Phebos and returned to the big leagues. Both girls are excellent masseuses. They are also obedient and easily trained."
"You talk as if we're at a slave market," I smiled. I don't know about the second one, but the first is definitely a wonderful masseuse.
"Why would I?" Jabba stared at me in surprise, then chuckled and continued. "This is my gift to you. Both concubines are now yours."
"Oh, is that so?" Now it was my turn to be surprised.
Let me explain for those who don't know. The slave trade in the galaxy is a very, very profitable business. So much so that entire planets can be in voluntary slavery — the Hutts will confirm this, they have a couple. So, slaves are a very expensive commodity, especially ones like these two lovely ladies. And their price on the slave market can reach the cost of a good ship.
In some corners of the galaxy, slaves are kept by their owners like cattle and do menial labor. The Hutts, though... they're like magnanimous boyars. Their attitude towards slaves is so widespread among the population that many beings, like those same Twi'leks and their women, strive to become slaves of the Hutts. The slugs are very protective of their property — including their "contracted workers." The latter perform specific roles, are always clothed, shod, and fed. For the Hutts, showing off their slaves and retinue as well-groomed and richly dressed is a way to show off to others.
So, knowing Jabba's love for surrounding himself with beautiful concubines, I was surprised by his decision to give them to me. This is... a substantial gift from the Hutt. And I have no right to refuse.
Gathering my thoughts, I spoke.
"What... This... an extremely serious gift, Jabba the Hutt. I am flattered and even somewhat bewildered. No one has ever given me anything like this."
"You never returned his beloved son to any of them," I felt a bit relieved when the Hutt stated the reason for such a beautiful gesture. You understand, such an outburst on his part made me somewhat indebted to him. "The Chancellor, like other people, can talk as much as he wants about a reward. A trinket on a ribbon cannot compare in the eyes of my people with such beautiful concubines." At the last words I barely restrained myself, from imagining how that thing amused itself with a couple of Twi'leks. And, as it turned out, this did not escape the Hutt.
For the umpteenth time during the meeting, he burst out laughing. But this time sincerely, heartily. Truly cheerful.
"I understand that, Jedi. You should have seen your face. But no, they are merely a delight to my eyes." He shifted his gaze to the lone representative of the human race. "My weakness is your human women. Many in the galaxy consider such a relationship perversion, but what times do we live in, Jedi?" the Hutt exclaimed. "You yourself drool over aliens. I too cannot control myself as soon as a human concubine appears in my harem. And each of them, wearing revealing attire, demonstrates the beauty of the human body that the mighty Jabba the Hutt has already enjoyed!"
"Majestic Jabba the Hutt," I smiled. "I never even thought of judging my companion's preferences. You rightly noted — I too have preferences. Well, who are these commoners to tell you and me who to sleep with and why?"
Jabba the Hutt smiled contentedly. Meanwhile, a thought pierced my head. It seems the idea of strangling Jabba the Hutt visited Princess Leia not out of love for freeing his slaves. Understandable why she then gave Solo the runaround for so long — she was apparently waiting until her legs could come together. Heh.
We were silent for a few minutes. Twice I stopped the girls' attempts to take off my armor, playfully shaking my finger at them. Meanwhile, one of the Devaronians got distracted, accepting a small datapad from one of the servants, which she immediately handed to Jabba the Hutt.
"What could interest you, Jedi, in the ancient elite residential quarter of Nar Shaddaa?" Jabba the Hutt inquired lazily.
"So there is information after all," I realized.
Having concluded a personal agreement with Jabba the Hutt, I gave him control over the Hutts, in exchange for keeping his own dark dealings secret, and casually expressed a desire to find out what was at the coordinates obtained from the navicomputer of the Protector. And, you understand, I was interested in the coordinates of the fortress of the Hero of Tython on Nar Shaddaa. I don't know what can be found there after so much time, but the defensive systems of the fortress on Yavin are working, right?
"I'm thinking of finding myself a respectable residence," I remarked vaguely. "They say that at these coordinates is one of the best, and it has long been abandoned."
"Your informants are good," praised Jabba the Hutt. "But this district hasn't been as significant as it was a thousand years ago for a long time. Once such houses cost millions, and their furnishings were a fortune. Now it's a district for the upper wealthy class — ordinary bohemia, nothing more. Many houses stand empty, like yours. My people have taken care of everything — no one has seen the owner for hundreds of years, so for a symbolic ten million credits, it's yours."
"I thought you said it was old ruins," I can sense they want to cheat me, but I don't understand where exactly. "Where does that kind of money come from?"
"Real estate never falls in price," chuckled Jabba the Hutt. "Especially on Nar Shaddaa. And the costs for re-registration..."
"Agreed," why beat around the bush? "The money will be delivered to you on credit chips within a week. Deal?"
Jabba the Hutt thought for a moment. I didn't rush him, fully understanding that we were playing with fire here. Hutts didn't like fussing with real estate — especially when the fate of the owner was unknown. No one wanted an owner to appear out of nowhere who would claim rights to the property you had sunk a lot of money into. But in my case, I suspected with a high degree of confidence that the owner had long since kicked the bucket.
Finally, the Hutt nodded benevolently and handed me the datapad.
"I like your openness to business," the gangster appreciated. "I need partners like that."
"In our common cause, no more partners are needed," I warned. "We'll manage on our own."
Jabba the Hutt waved his hands in displeasure.
"I never cease to be amazed at how, in you, Jedi, Hutt pragmatism and calculation can be combined with service to the ideals of your Order?"
"Perhaps the reason is that I serve myself and my goals, and the Order is merely a means to achieve them?"
"And isn't the means to achieve the goal too massive? For the sake of one oversector..."
Jabba the Hutt fell silent, struck by his own guess. I didn't interrupt him — the thought had to mature on its own, without outside influence.
And Jabba the Hutt did not disappoint.
"You're not going to limit yourself to one oversector, are you?"
"Perceptive," I noted.
Jabba the Hutt smirked.
"Hmm... I heard that in ancient times one Jedi managed to create his own empire, almost destroying the Republic. But those were chaotic times. You are either mad or brilliantly daring if you plan something like that."
"And does one exclude the other?" I had to clarify. "My vision of the galaxy does not coincide with the vision of the Order, nor with the views of the Chancellor, and certainly not with the plans of the CIS. I am the blacksmith of my own happiness. And you yourself know how far I have advanced in implementing my plans. My allies will be rewarded, and my enemies will fall. One way or another, I will achieve my goal."
"For some reason I am inclined to believe you, Jedi," the Hutt glanced at the tray standing next to him, on which lay an infocrystal with kompromat on the Hutt Council. A copy, of course.
The gangster was silent, thinking over his next move. He didn't need to be told what was at stake.
"Such extensive ventures have never happened without the participation of the Hutts," declared Jabba the Hutt. "But such help has a corresponding price."
"Can't two partners come to an agreement between themselves?" I smiled good-naturedly.
* * *
Having descended the ramp onto the surface of a planet new to her, Darth Atroxa gloomily surveyed what she considered a dreary landscape. Trees, green grass, mountains, hills, several streams. An average everyday swamp that beings from all over the galaxy visit in search of rest, unity with nature, and other metaphysical idiocy.
Unlike them, she had arrived here with a clear purpose.
And, surprisingly, the clear purpose was coming to her on its own.
Gripping the hilts of their lightsabers, three Force-sensitives approached her, wearing robes similar to Jedi robes, only in darker shades.
They were descending from the top of the foothills, a couple of hundred meters from the landing zone. From where she sensed a large concentration of Force-sensitive beings. Well, it was pleasant to realize that she had found what she was looking for. Millennia of cryo-stasis had not damaged her search and hunting skills. As before, she was an implacable weapon in the hands of her master.
"We do not welcome guests," declared one of the newcomers. "Especially ones like you. We left the war, left the Light and the Dark, to find strength..."
"Shut your mouth, miserable wretch," the Lethan snarled. She had no intention of talking to this trio of obviously weak Force-sensitives. They were not interesting. Too weak. No wonder they served as expendable material.
Almost on autopilot, she reacted to their motley attack. Lazily parrying their clumsy thrusts, the Lady Sith decapitated the renegade Jedi.
Stepping over the bodies of the fallen, she squinted and noticed curious onlookers pouring out of their huts hidden in the foothills. They fixed their eyes on her blade, waiting for what would happen next. The Twi'lek smirked. During the flight, she had given in to temptation and replaced the crystal, inserting into the blade a crimson synthetic stone she had preserved through thousands of years. It was the same one that had been in her blade when the forces of the Eternal Empire invaded Korriban...
After captivity and torture, she had received a different crystal, becoming the Emperor's Hand. But the new master would not mind her little stunt. However, even if he did, she would find a way to redirect his attention to more pleasant moments.
Another pleasant moment was not long in coming.
Thanks to years of training, the climb uphill went unnoticed by her. No one dared to come out to meet her, try to stop her. They only watched her ascent.
In complete silence, she reached the boundaries of the settlement. Also silently, she walked onto the central square covered with snow-white sand. Graceful, ready for battle. Coiled like a spring, ready to uncoil at any moment...
They watched. Silent, they looked at her, and were silent. All as one, dressed in worn Jedi robes. Outcasts. Renegades. Fallen. Jensaarai.
Finally, from the far rows, a no longer young Anzat made his way to face her. Measuring her from head to toe, he listened to the Force and spoke.
"I am Niccos Tyrius. And you are a Sith."
"I once was," she remembered her mission perfectly. And over years of service, she had learned that well-chosen words cut no worse than a lightsaber. "But that path is in the past."
"But you came here," said the former Jedi. "To us, to the 'hidden followers of truth'..."
"Truth?" she said disdainfully. "You are like the blind, rushing from one extreme to another. From Light to Dark, hoping to find answers to the questions that your fevered minds have conceived."
The crowd began to whisper. Her words had found their audience.
"Our path..."
"A dead end," she said confidently. "Light and Dark are merely facets of the One Force. The very Force that gave me the power to kill those three down below. And with its help, I will kill you, Niccos Tyrius, and show your followers that my master's teachings are stronger than anything you try to glean from Sith practices."
"That's absurd," the Anzat activated a snow-white blade, assuming a defensive stance. "You cannot defeat me, I am stronger than any Jedi or Sith..."
"And I am neither," scooping up sand with the Force, she threw it into the alien's eyes, instantly picking up the pace.
Rapidly closing with the opponent, she delivered a quick series of strikes, completely shattering his pathetic defense. The Shien he tried to oppose her with might have achieved results. But against his strength, she pitted her experience and agility.
Exchanging blows, parrying and counterattacking, Atroxa laughed mockingly at the fallen Jedi, who had almost stuck his tongue out from effort and concentration. He cautiously drew strength from the Light, but tried to reinforce it with the rage of the Dark Side. An interesting but destructive symbiosis.
All these experiments require experienced instructors and years of training. With the right approach, he could have become a decent rank-and-file fighter. But his death should serve as an example of a stupid and irrational approach to studying the Dark Side.
You cannot accept the Dark Side a little. You cannot return to the Light for five minutes. Every ideology, every emanation must be accepted fully. Know them, let them pass through you, and control them. And only then will the mixture of control and rage give you the right calculation and great power for victory.
Unfortunately for the Anzat, the red-skinned lady mastered this perfectly.
Diving under the opponent's guard, she struck with her armored gauntlet into the lower part of his abdomen, then with a precise shiak thrust to the throat, she severed his spinal cord.
The lifeless body fell onto the sand, dropping the lightsaber. The gathered crowd of Jensaarai silently watched the body of the dead 'teacher'. Shock and confusion reigned in their ranks. Of course. He had promised them power that no Jedi had ever dreamed of...
"Each of you can become something greater," she said. "My master does not limit himself to the views of Light and Dark — they are natural for each of us, just as for any sentient being in the galaxy. Your teacher," she pointed her blade at the corpse, "believed that you only needed to grasp a small part of Sith teachings to become stronger. And now he lies before you."
Atroxa swept her gaze over them, full of triumph. The gaze of a victor.
"I will make you an offer only once," she warned. "Join, and you will gain the power that is your birthright. Or follow your deceased leader. There can be no other way. The division of the Force is over."
For a minute she held the silent Jensaarai under her heavy gaze, ready to unleash streams of the Force upon them and kill those who dared not accept her master's generosity. But seeing how the erstwhile 'hidden followers of truth' universally knelt before her, she could not suppress a smile.
The Master will be pleased.