"The East is a delicate matter," a famous character used to say.
Watching the massive shutter of the entrance to Jabba's Palace slowly rise, I wondered if I should just blow this armored slab out with the Force. It's unlikely the Hutt would lodge a complaint against me at the Temple. But I didn't want to risk it either.
After the grueling trek across the Dune Sea for the sake of Tatooine's crime lord, all this slowness felt like a mockery.
"They aren't very happy to see us," Luminara noted, pointing to the fat swarm of Gamorrean guards pouring out of the gates. The pig-like sentients, in comical medieval harness, carried ridiculous medieval halberds. This in a time when our spaceships traverse the vast expanses of the galaxy…
"It's logical, since we are late. I bet Dooku has already talked the Hutt's ear off about how villainous the Jedi are."
"That sounds like him," Luminara nodded.
Meanwhile, another iconic figure from the original trilogy approached us—the majordomo of the local king of the underworld, Bib Fortuna. Upon closer inspection, the Twi'lek filled me with disgust. I've known representatives of his race (female, granted, but still). Unlike them, Jabba's henchman was clearly hideous. Orange eyes, long lekku that he wrapped around his neck, that vile snide smile, absurd frontal growths… Ugh, one word: Gollum.
The Twi'lek measured us, meanwhile, with an extremely arrogant look. I'm amazed! Did we come to beg for alms, or what?
"Master Jabba wants nothing to do with the Jedi."
"Why the hell not?" I inquired politely. Though I had a pretty good idea of the answer.
Evidently, the Twi'lek had little interaction with sentients suffering from an excess of eloquence in a simple and accessible form. For he completely froze up at my question.
"My friend is interested," Luminara intervened, "why Master Jabba changed his mind?"
"Count Dooku informed him of your involvement in the death of his son," our monochrome friend explained. "Therefore, so as not to spoil relations with the Republic, Master Jabba magnanimously allows you…"
"Shove your magnanimity up your backside," I requested. "We have a night of a walking erotic tour of this freaking planet behind us. If you take the word of a bunch of… same-sex love enthusiasts," I corrected myself in time, remembering that despite being a Jedi, Luminara is 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 henchmen shot down our shuttle with Rotta, then tried to finish us off in the middle of the desert. If Master Jabba has already judged us guilty, then his head is as empty as the sands of the Dune Sea!"
Fortuna absorbed the information with an indifferent 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 hang around in the heat, so, like Luke Skywalker, I used a Jedi suggestion. The majordomo's eyes bulged as he took my instruction: "The news is so important that Master Jabba will be in a rage if he learns that anyone but himself heard it."
Not allowing the Twi'lek to recover, I walked quickly into the palace. The Gamorrean mercenaries, who had tensed up, were immediately stopped by Fortuna himself. Under the influence of the suggestion, he did not dare to make any rash moves that might incur his master's wrath. All the better. "Won't have to slice up the pork thinly," I thought.
Moving through the semi-dark corridors of the Hutt's dwelling, I was surprised to find that the monastery on Teth differed in its architecture from the Hutt's abode. Though I had thought the opposite. It seems the monks didn't standardize their architectural solutions. But what do I care?
Despite the fact that none of the palace residents accompanied us, the mercenaries, slaves, and generally unpleasant sentients we met did not try to stop or detain us. Dozens of wary eyes followed those walking. In the Force, I felt the distrust and suspicion of these beings, but without an order, no one wanted to tangle with the Jedi. Strange behavior, in my opinion. Well, what if the Jedi had come here to kill Jabba?
"Is this wise?" Luminara said in an undertone. "Intruding on the Hutt… This could backfire on us…"
"The main thing is to reach him," I assured her. "And we'll sort everything out on the spot."
The master of this whole establishment met us in a vast hall, packed with various hangers-on. Jabba reclined on a massive dais that only emphasized its owner's status in the eyes of those present. In my opinion, the Hutt was sleeping. However, to my surprise, I saw the figure of Bib Fortuna standing obsequiously beside the Hutt. "Now how did he get to the slug faster than us?"
Seeing me and Luminara, Fortuna began reporting to his master in a loud whisper.
"Master. Rick Dougan is here, the Jedi. The Hero of Christophsis."
The phrase seemed to have no effect whatsoever.
But as soon as we appeared, the overgrown worm threw up his huge head, roaring in a bass voice through the whole area. Those present grew agitated, rapidly retreating to the walls of the room, hiding in arched recesses, leaving Unduli and me space in the center of the room. Glancing at the grated floor, I smirked, giving Luminara a subtle sign to be careful. I don't remember exactly when the rancor was settled in the cave below, but I didn't want to check if that amusing omnivorous beastie was already there or not.
The translator droid, having carefully absorbed the outpourings of the fat slug, turned its shiny head to Fortuna. "Eh, 3PO, is that you?"—a wild thought flashed through my head.
"The 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 hideous Twi'lek insisted. However, the Hutt paid no further attention to his majordomo, pushing the latter into the embrace of guards who had appeared out of nowhere. A pair of grunting Gamorreans hauled Fortuna off by the arms to places where he would evidently learn all the wrath of the Hutt, who meanwhile erupted in a new tirade.
"The great Jabba asks you how you, the killers of his child, dared to appear before his eyes. 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 beings around us raised their blasters… Well, they're excusable. They don't know they are facing more than ordinary Jedi lamer-newbies.
"If we are Rotta's killers," I said patiently, "then why is the child still alive and well?"
The Hutt bellowed something again, narrowing his huge eyes at me.
"The Master wishes to know why you wish to deceive him so low. Count Dooku…"
"Count Dooku is a liar and a traitor," Luminara entered the dialogue. "His subordinates captured your little one, held him, and when an attempt was made to deliver him—they shot down the shuttle with the child on board…"
The Hutt, not waiting for the end of the phrase, bellowed again.
"The mighty Jabba does not believe a single word of yours…"
"I didn't risk my life just so Jabba could doubt me," I think my contempt could be understood even without translation. I stepped forward, causing the thugs to tense even more. The intensity of passion and fear was felt in the Force… Without a word, Luminara stood behind me, ready to activate her new blade if necessary.
"Whatever you have planned," she said quietly, "do it quickly."
Using my armor's computer, I activated the built-in holoprojector under Jabba's watchful gaze.
"Olee?"
"Master!" the girl started as if I had woken her from a nap. "I'm so glad. How are you? You were silent for so long, I began to worry and…"
"I need to see the Hutt."
"What? Oh, I see," for a moment, notes of disappointment flashed on the girl's face, but she immediately regained her composure and disappeared from the lens, only to reappear a moment later with the little one in her arms. "Here he is; what's wrong with him?"
Upon seeing the hologram of his son, the father bellowed so loudly it even made my ears hurt. The little one, hearing the familiar voice, turned his gaze and began to smile and grunt. Or maybe that's just how Hutt babies speak?
The gangster's jubilation lasted for several minutes, during which no one dared to interrupt him. I won't be far from the truth if I assume Desilijic Tiure was questioning the lad about things known only to them to ensure the child truly was his. Though, maybe the Huttlet can't even talk yet?
In any case, five minutes later, after more words from the Hutt, his droid spoke.
"The merciful Jabba forgives the Jedi and demands they hand over to him the one who dared to attempt his son's life. Otherwise, there will be no deal with the Republic."
"Master Jabba," I addressed the Hutt, nodding at the hologram. "I am ready to give you answers to all questions. But first of all, I ask you to send ships to the crash site and bring the little one home."
The Hutt grumbled something, and almost all the mercenaries left the room. Only a few remained—about ten people. Well, seeing a Trandoshan mug, I realized "people" was a bit of an overstatement.
"Master?" the Padawan looked at me with concern. "Is everything alright with us?"
"Yes," I assured. "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 look after my apprentice and the wounded soldiers who, sparing no effort, guarded your son from the Separatists."
The Hutt grunted indifferently and waved a hand. Another couple of mercenaries detached and disappeared into the palace passages. Without turning, I felt in the Force that only three Gamorrean guards remained behind me. Unduli placed a hand on my shoulder, said a silent goodbye, and went after the departing mercenaries.
As soon as she left, the Hutt spoke again. The translator droid listened to his speech for several minutes before delivering:
"The great Jabba believes that you, Jedi Knight, purposefully sent your partner away to speak in private. But he has nothing to talk to Jedi about. He was misled by the Separatists, but both the Republic and the Order failed to fulfill their part of the deal. His son's kidnapper has not been found…"
"I dare to assure you, oh incomparable Jabba," I smirked, turning to my computer again, "that even if the Republic and the Jedi did not fulfill your requirements, then I certainly fulfilled the terms of the agreements. I hope this small formality will help us find a common language with each other?"
Jabba frowned, grumbling several phrases.
"The Master demands proof," the translator decoded. "If you have none, Jedi, you had better leave the palace…"
"Oh, I have it…"
***
Ignoring the acrid smell of burnt flesh that stung her eyes, Shae did not cease her efforts to loosen the interrogated being's tongue. A protocol droid, with its inherent pedantry, recorded everything the prisoner could share.
He had long since stopped threatening with all imaginable or invented punishments and only whimpered and groaned quietly whenever his short arms touched one of the damaged areas of his massive body.
However, the Mandalorian was aware that the information they had obtained in the dungeons was only a small part of what the prisoner could provide. But Mandalore the Avenger possessed enviable patience and cold-bloodedness. Therefore, torture and questions alternated, and the prisoner kept talking and talking… dates, events, people, account numbers, passwords…
Shae thought with a smirk that she hadn't miscalculated in hiring Rivvas Nuodo and his "Company." The guys proved extremely effective in achieving their goals, so the credits spent on them should pay off in full.
But she did not allow the interrogation of the prisoner, despite the Duros's assurance that the "Company" had specialists of such a profile. The necessary information was too valuable.
In the process of cutting a tattooed patch of skin from the prisoner's back, she heard a holocomm beep.
"Don't go anywhere," she requested of the prisoner tied fast to a massive metal slab. He only nodded his head frequently, expressing his agreement. The wounds were still fresh… Or rather, the place where skin used to cover his belly. Now, only a strong muscular frame and a thick layer of fat prevented his insides from falling out. Но подобное положение причиняло невыносимую боль. Which helped loosen the tongue.
"Shae," Dougan greeted her. "That apron suits you."
"I know," the girl smirked. A handmade leather apron was worn over her armor, intended to prevent blood from getting onto parts of the armor. "Made it from the skin of our mutual friend. Can't let good material go to waste."
Hearing the Mandalorian's words, the prisoner shrieked hysterically.
"What is that?" the Jedi inquired.
"Seems he remembered how I sliced the skin off him," Vizla shrugged.
"Someone wants to talk to him. About the kidnapping of Jabba's son."
"He's not exactly ready for…"
"Shae!" the Jedi said with emphasis.
"As you wish," the Mandalorian spread her hands. She moved the portable holoprojector so it stood before the prisoner's face. The hologram of the man was replaced by the image of a hideous Hutt head.
"Ziro?!" Jabba exclaimed.
The uncle of the Tatooine crime boss raised his head, looking into the eyes of the speaker.
"Jabba…" he greeted his nephew quietly. Glancing at the figure of Vizla standing behind the hologram and receiving her permission, the tormented Hutt, licking his parched lips, said: "I must confess something to you…"
***
I waited patiently while the relatives sorted out their relationship. Ziro spoke quietly about his conspiracy with Dooku; Jabba listened silently, occasionally interrupting and asking questions. Ziro spoke in Galactic Basic; Jabba asked questions in Huttese. However, even without a translator, the essence of the conversation was clear.
Ziro detailed 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 little Rotta's fate, who was to become a bargaining chip…
Even from the Tatooine Hutt's minimally expressive face, I could read his contempt for his relative and the full seriousness of the problems that had fallen on his head. Especially when Ziro mentioned he had incriminating data on the Hutt Council hidden on the same planet where the kidnappers had delivered Rotta…
Jabba, drawing air through his massive nostrils with a noise, bellowed a question.
"I gave up the cache'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 say they found it, mighty Jabba," I said. "Everything Ziro collected on the Hutt Council and you in particular—all of it is now in my hands. Including information about your involvement in fabricating evidence for the Jedi by the Governor of Galidraan…"
The Hutt narrowed his eyes and barked several phrases to the translator.
"The great Jabba is certain this is a bluff. Otherwise, the Jedi would have informed the Order…"
"Of course, an ordinary Jedi would have informed them," 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 lot of money from this… Or—die."
The representative of the House of Tiure only laughed at my words. With a wide swing, he struck his tiny (compared to his whole body) hand on a console I hadn't noticed immediately.
With a metallic clang, a small hatch opened before Jabba's throne, which, as I recalled, led to the rancor's dwelling. But I was a meter or so away from that hatch.
"I don't like being underestimated, Jabba," a warning came from under my mask. The lightsaber jumped into my hand by itself. "I'm giving you a chance…"
Jabba roared again, causing a pair of thick Gamorreans behind me to move. Well, what are two idiots against the full power of the Force?
A careless gesture of the hand, and both bodies fall to the floor with a thud, accompanied by heads rolling across the floor.
Pointing the blade toward the Hutt, I inquired politely:
"Will there be more rash moves? Or," I took an information crystal from my pocket and tossed it to the Hutt, "will you take a look at what I have after all?"
***
After listening to Commodore Creeves in silence, Yoda thoughtfully stroked his chin. Then, having said goodbye to the officer, the Grand Master, leaning on his cane, slowly wandered away from the holographic terminal.
"The Hutts' behavior is unusual," came from him after several minutes of silence. "Master Unduli's disappearance first, Master Dougan's luring out now…"
"As is the blockade of our squadron in Tatooine's orbit," Oppo Rancisis reminded him. "These coincidences are not for good."
"Coincidences?" Yoda murmured.
As always, the "teacher of teachers" was right. The Hutts' behavior is too suspicious. This alarming silence, the disappearance of two Jedi. Intelligence spoke of Confederacy ships spotted in the system. And even of Count Dooku's personal starship leaving Tatooine. A thousand questions and not a single answer.
Yoda and Rancisis—those were all the representatives of the Jedi High Council currently on Coruscant. Urgent matters and the difficult situation at the front led the council to the point where most of them had to lead large clone units themselves.
However, at the suggestion of the Chancellor's supporters, volunteers were also being accepted into the Grand Army—so-called militias, auxiliary regiments. The Republic could not afford to maintain a multi-billion-strong army of clones alone even with all its desire—the Kaminoans' services proved exorbitantly expensive. This gave rise to further endless squabbles in the Senate… And it seemed there would be no end to either the war or the bickering in the Senate.
Of course, current Jedi were not like those who had held undisputed sway on 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 Jedi and clone victories and defeats. And there were more and more defeats.
Oppo's calculating mind had long since figured out that the continuation of this flagrant conflict would weaken the Order so much that the Jedi would not be able to regain their former glory for a long time. Too many of them die in battles. And simple calculations are enough to realize—should the war last another few years, it would be continued by yesterday's Padawans who had barely constructed their lightsabers. And economic shocks awaited the Republic against the background of the ever-increasing debt to the Banking Clan. And, as is to be expected, political shocks would not be far behind.
Master Rancisis was no longer at the age to argue with the Council until he was blue in the face about the excessive passivity of the current state of affairs. Turning to historical chronicles, he had more than once or twice contemplated examples of how the Jedi managed to prevent the split of hundreds of states by eliminating only those who consciously acted against the people's interests…
Staring at the night sky of the Galactic capital, Master Oppo, occupied with his thoughts, almost missed the moment the holoprojector lit up, forming a three-dimensional image.
"Master Dougan, Master Unduli!" the Grand Master greeted the Jedi softly, without a shadow of worry, as if he hadn't been thinking about their unknown disappearance a minute ago. "We had begun to worry."
"Small problems with the Separatists," Dougan explained vaguely. As before, he appeared before his interlocutors in ancient armor, with his face hidden by an armored mask. Some Temple servants even compared him to Temple Guards—the Jedi tasked with the sacred duty of protecting the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. However, in Oppo's opinion, there were no similar features—except for the habit of wearing armor and hiding one's face. The silent Unduli only confirmed the truth of his words with a nod of her head. "We are currently guests at Master Jabba's palace."
"Master Dougan," Rancisis intervened. "Did you complete the assignment?"
"Precisely, respected Council members," Unduli joined the conversation. "Jabba's son is delivered safely to his father. The latter, in turn, is ready to conclude an alliance agreement with the Republic. The hyperspace lanes of Hutt Space are open to the Grand Army of the Republic ships even now. But at the same time, the Hutts are ready to receive a Republic representative to conclude an alliance treaty."
Struck by what he heard, Oppo looked at the small Master. Yoda returned a gaze full of bewilderment.
"No one expected the Hutts to follow Jabba's words. We counted on Hutt neutrality, but an alliance…" Rancisis stroked his beard. "It is not logical. The Hutts dislike the Republic and would not 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 looked at the Grand Master once more.
"How did you manage this, my friends?" Yoda asked the obvious question.
"Oh," a smirk came from under Dougan's mask. "I was very persuasive…"
***
"Master Jabba is grateful personally on his own behalf, and on behalf of all the Hutts of his clan, for the service rendered by the Republic and the Jedi," the droid announced monotonously, relaying the quiet, bass phrases of the chief Hutt on Tatooine.
Located on the other side of the holographic projector, I could observe the figures standing before the crime king from the shadows. And, without hesitation, I studied their facial expressions.
The Chancellor, as always restrained and slightly benevolent, with a face of immense burden of responsibility for all and sundry, only nodded in time with the translations. I have no doubt that his heart was sinking. A simple combination had been resoundingly failed. My big black heart was warmed by the fact that I had a hand in it. It's pleasant to kick an enemy from the shadows when they don't suspect you yet. Though Valkorion whispered to go into the shadows for a while and not draw the Sith's attention—to let him believe my destruction of his plans was just blind luck. To lull his vigilance before the next blow to the gut.
The representatives of justice, the Chancellor's cabinet, and the government, whose electronic signatures were required on such a significant document, remained unrecognized by me. However, I didn't particularly want to know them. My business is elsewhere. I knew the main figures of Palpatine's entourage even without this theatricality.
From the Hutts' side, it was simpler—the Hutt Council had given Jabba something like power of attorney to act on their behalf. Well, of course, after his delightful demonstration of Ziro's incriminating data…
Palpatine's hologram smiled politely.
"Excellent, Master Jabba. I am endlessly glad that your child has finally returned home. There is nothing sadder than separating a child from parents. Has the culprit of this terrible atrocity been established?"
Jabba reluctantly grumbled a few phrases, which the translator translated extremely diplomatically, telling the Chancellor that it 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 a common language."
"Master Jabba hopes that the Jedi through whom all this became possible will not be forgotten," the droid translated a new portion of the slug's chatter. "The Lord asks to consider this as a personal wish. A small concession in exchange for the one he obtained from the Hutt Council to allow the Republic army to use the hyperspace routes of Hutt Space before the treaty is concluded."
"Without a doubt, respected Jabba," the Chancellor assured him. "Jedi Masters Dougan and Unduli will receive their due rewards."
The Chancellor was distracted for a moment, then returned his gaze to Jabba's bulk.
"My assistants assure me that our alliance treaty is henceforth entirely legitimate and from now on we are allies. A copy of the treaty is immediately sent to you, highly respected Jabba."
The Hutt took leave of the man grandly, after which, at his gesture, one of the two blue-skinned Twi'lek slave girls turned off the holocomm and nimbly moved it out of sight.
This time we were in the Hutt's private quarters. Unlike the reception hall, it was far more spacious—like a soccer field. The lion's share of the entire room was occupied by the Hutt's bedchamber—it wasn't particularly visible, as the passage there was closed. The slug and I were "hanging out" in the living room. Richly set tables groaned with drinks and delicacies. The floor, covered with long-pile carpets and soft cushions, along with tapestries and canopies hanging on the walls decorating the arched spans.
The smell of incense, which I inhaled through my nostrils, hung in the air.
The Force and bacta had fixed my face, so in a personal, private conversation with the Hutt, I decided to observe the rules of decency and removed the mask.
Jabba reclined on a huge featherbed, exposing himself to the breeze created by the fans of several slave girls. In total, there were five in the quarters—a human woman, two Devaronians, and two blue-skinned Twi'leks who were like two peas in a pod. The Devaronians tended to the master, fed him, massaged his fat body, and did not allow him to be in the heat.
The Twi'leks looked after the table and hovered around me. The woman stood like a Cerberus near the Hutt's bed, watching the events with an attentive gaze. I'd bet my head—a personal bodyguard. Or a concubine. Or perhaps both. In any case, they were all exceedingly sexual, and the light clothing on them only teased the gaze and desire more.
"It has been a long time since I saw a Jedi as close as I see you now," for a reason unclear to me, the droid stopped using the usual manner of presentation and began expressing the Hutt's words in the first person. "And never before has a Jedi been in my private quarters. Not as enemies, not as prisoners, and certainly not as allies."
"It's pleasant to be a pioneer in this matter," to have the opportunity not to answer Jabba's subsequent questions immediately, I pulled a bowl of fruit to myself with the Force and began slowly peeling a tangerine equivalent. Green in color, though. "As in the matter of the alliance with the Hutts," I pointedly tapped my fingers on my datapad.
The Hutt smiled. Evidently, he was amused by the situation.
"I could have expected such treachery from anyone, but not from a Jedi," he noted. "Incriminating data on the entire Hutt Council… I hope Ziro suffered when he told your people his secrets?"
"He is suffering to this day," I noted. "No matter how much he recorded on his crystals—he keeps even more in his head. I will take all of it."
"Should I take that as a threat?" the Hutt smirked. "After all, Ziro acted against me. His most intimate secrets are the secrets of my clan."
"Why would I threaten an ally?" I was feignedly surprised. "Did we conclude a bad agreement, Jabba?"
"Power over the Hutts in exchange for full submission to you?" the Hutt laughed. "What could be good about that, Jedi?"
"At first glance, only 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 themselves control their space and the movement of Republic ships. Which, meanwhile, will appear at the first call to protect the borders of Hutt Space if the CIS invades. Furthermore, economic benefit. The Hutts are rich, but the sphere of your interests is limited only to your territories. Step outside them, and a sector fleet will rush to raze all your endeavors to the ground. The treaty with the Republic will allow you to actually step outside Space openly. Well, who's going to investigate whether your refugee aid camps are not who they claim to be? Furthermore, food quotas for refugees will allow you to receive decent profits from the Republic by feeding those whose planets turn out to be destroyed by war. Well, and the point about liquidating the consequences of military actions? There is a twenty-percent profit there."
"And you will put maximum effort into that?" the Hutt smirked.
***
"Of course," I assured him. "Soon my army will kick the Seps out of most of the worlds they hold. The Republic doesn't care what happens to the Outer worlds. That's where the Hutts come in, who, how was it written in the treaty? 'Cannot remain confined by their interests at an hour when the galaxy stands on the threshold of war and billions of sentients suffer from the outrages of the Confederacy's mechanical armies…'. Strong, right?"
"Couldn't think of anything better," Jabba laughed. "But where is the guarantee that my affairs will remain secret from the Jedi?"
"Afraid of revenge?" I smirked. "That didn't bother you when you commissioned the fabrication of evidence at Galidraan. And when you helped Senator Chom Frey Kaa control drug flows. Even the capture of Quinlan Vos and his apprentice—all that was at the instigation of your clan. Well, and the favorite slave trade… Though personally, I was interested in your active participation in financing the Delegation of 2000, which holds back the growth of the Republic's military machine…"
"Enough," Jabba interrupted. "We both know many details about each other, young Jedi."
"Oh, even so?" I smirked. "And what is known to you?"
"More than you might think," Jabba closed his eyes as if trying to remember. "You boast of your Power but underestimate the power of corruption. I know about your agreements with Incom, Sienar, Rendili, and the Corellians. Your company recruits MY pilots,"—the translator especially emphasized the ownership. "And I wondered—why would a modest Jedi need such complex schemes?"
Continuing to express bored indifference, I meanwhile considered several ways I could quickly finish off the Hutt.
"And what did you conclude?" I inquired.
"Power," Jabba concluded. "I have lived on this earth more than five hundred years and have seen much. You may consider it nostalgia, but I see in you those traits of power-hungry intriguers who step over heads to the top."
"Sounds like an insult."
"Not at all. Power should be in the hands of those who are strong. You understand this—otherwise you wouldn't have given me power over the Hutts. They are ancient fools," Jabba waved a hand to the side, which was meant to symbolize the Hutt Council. "Their ambitions are insignificant; their desires are satiated. They have lost the desire for greater power, content with the crumbs they possess now. And that is not enough for me."
"You want to build your empire?" I smirked.
"And do you not?" the droid echoed. "The Jedi created a clone army that could have subjugated the Republic in the blink of an eye. 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 short-sightedness. Over the years, your Order is becoming weaker. I haven't seen it myself, but my elder kin told me stories of those Jedi who ruled sectors and planets—Jedi Lords, as they were called. And their states flourished."
"An interesting historical excursion," I signaled a slave to pour me a cooling drink. "But you are leading me away from the essence."
"Oh no, young Jedi. It is you who are deceiving everyone. You are preparing to build an entire fleet—enough to hold the entire oversector under your control. Your mercenaries and followers from Christophsis are sufficient cannon fodder to hold back the Republic army. The freighters under construction at Corellia are your transport arteries. Furthermore, all the Hutt forces are with you… When you seize your oversector, they won't be able to answer you—neither the Jedi nor the Separatists. A lightning strike from Christophsis to Ryloth—and there, the planet is under your control. And the Twi'leks will welcome with open arms the one who ruins the life and business of Graxol Kelvyyn. Won't you tell me where you put all those slaves from his convoy that you were supposed to guard?"
"Is it really that important?" I inquired. "Those Twi'leks received a chance for a new life, a new home, a stable job. Unlike their kin, they didn't think of selling themselves into slavery like, for example, them," I pointed to the Twi'leks. "So, I gave them a new life."
"And at the same time—hope for those who are still there, on Ryloth," the Hutt smirked. "But those are all details."
"And a good chance for blackmail," I suggested.
"Why would I blackmail my partner?" Jabba was feignedly surprised. "Besides, I am promised a thirty-percent profit from the restoration works…"
I smirked. The agreement with the Republic provided that the final amount of payments to the Hutt companies engaged in providing for refugees and restoring worlds is determined by the oversector government. As you understand—in the near perspective—it is my oversector.
"Why you fat, slimy, arrogant slug," I delivered…
"My very best qualities, human," the king of the underworld laughed.
***
Taking advantage of the pause during which the palace master consumed simply unthinkable amounts of food, I enjoyed the beauty. Yes, you understood correctly—I admired both Twi'leks.
I don't know what mania it is, but I'm wildly into beautiful alien women in the SW universe.
When I looked at Jabba again, he asked:
"Do you like them, Jedi?"
"Their master has excellent taste," I noted evasively.
Jabba laughed, then gave several commands in Huttese. Both Twi'leks listened to him and moved closer to me. One of them sat behind me and began massaging my neck with her thin but strong fingers. The other continually cast predatory looks at me.
"They are sisters," Jabba noted. "Ann and Tan 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 Phoebus Memorial Race and returned to major racing. Both girls are wonderful masseuses. However, they are submissive and easily trainable."
"You speak 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 so?" Jabba stared at me in surprise, then, chuckling, continued. "This is my gift to you. Both concubines are henceforth yours."
"Oh, even so?" it was my turn to be surprised.
Let me explain for those who are unaware. 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 it; they have a couple. So, slaves are a very expensive commodity, especially ones like these two lovely ladies. And the price for them on the slave market can reach the cost of a good ship.
In some corners of the galaxy, slaves are kept by masters like cattle and perform menial labor. The Hutts, however… they are like magnanimous boyars. Their attitude toward slaves is so widespread among the population that many sentients, like those same Twi'leks and their women, seek to enter slavery to the Hutts. The slugs are protective of their property—including "contracted workers." The latter fulfill clear roles and are always clothed, shod, and fed. For the Hutts, showing their slaves and retinue as sleek and richly dressed means "showing off" before others.
That's why, knowing Jabba's love for surrounding himself with beautiful concubines, I was surprised by his decision to give them to me. This is… a weighty gift from the Hutt. And I have no right to refuse.
Gathering my thoughts, I said:
"Well… This is… an extremely serious gift, Jabba. I am flattered by it and somewhat even bewildered. No one has ever given me anything like this."
"None of them returned his beloved son to him," I felt a bit relieved when the Hutt indicated the reason for such a beautiful gesture. You understand, such an act on his part made me somewhat indebted to him. "The Chancellor, like other humans, can chatter as much as he likes about a reward. A trinket on a ribbon cannot compare in the eyes of my people to such beautiful concubines,"—at the last words, I barely restrained myself from imagining how this thing amused itself with a pair of Twi'leks. And, as it turned out, this did not escape the Hutt.
For the umpteenth time during the meeting, he laughed. Но в этот раз искренне, заливисто. Truly merrily.
"I understand, Jedi. If only you could see your face. But no, they are only a delight to my eyes," he turned his gaze to the lone representative of the human race. "my weakness is your, human women. Many in the galaxy consider such a connection a perversion, but in what time do we live, Jedi?" the Hutt exclaimed. "You yourself drool over aliens. I too am unable to restrain myself as soon as a human concubine appears in my harem. And each of them, wearing an open outfit, demonstrates the beauty of the human body, which the mighty Jabba has already had the chance to enjoy!"
"Grand Jabba," I smiled. "I never even thought of condemning my companion's preferences. You correctly noted—I too have preferences. Well, who are these commoners to tell you and me who to sleep with and why?"
Jabba smiled contentedly. Meanwhile, a thought pierced my head. It seems the thought of strangling Jabba occurred to Princess Leia not at all out of a love for freeing his slaves. It's clear why she dodged Solo for so long afterward—she was waiting, it seems, until her legs could close. Heh.
We were silent for a few minutes. I twice thwarted the girls' attempts to remove my armor, playfully shaking a finger at them. Meanwhile, one of the Devaronians was distracted, receiving a small datapad from one of the servants, which she immediately passed to Jabba.
"What might interest you, Jedi, in the ancient elite residential quarter of Nar Shaddaa?" Jabba inquired lazily.
"So there is information after all," I realized.
Having concluded a personal agreement with Jabba, I gave him control over the Hutts in exchange for keeping his own dark deeds secret, and incidentally expressed a desire to find out what was at the coordinates obtained from the Defender's navicomputer. And, you understand, I was interested in the coordinates of the Tython Hero's fortress on Nar Shaddaa. I don't know what can be found there after all this time, but the defense systems of the fortress on Yavin are working, right?
"I'm thinking of looking for a respectable dwelling for myself," I noted vaguely. "They say one of the best is at these coordinates, and it's been abandoned for a long time."
"Your informants are good," Jabba praised. "But that district hasn't been so significant for a long time, not as much as even a thousand years ago. Once such houses cost millions, and their furnishings a fortune. Now it's a district for the senior wealthy class—mere bohemians, nothing more. Many houses are 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 felt they wanted to cheat me, but exactly where—I couldn't tell. "Where does such money come from?"
"Real estate never falls in price," Jabba laughed. "Especially on Nar Shaddaa. And the re-registration costs…"
"Agreed," why pull the cat by the tail? "The money will be delivered to you on credit chips within a week. Deal?"
Jabba thought for a bit. I didn't rush him, knowing perfectly well that we were playing with fire here. Hutts didn't like messing with real estate—especially when the owner's fate is unknown. No one wanted an owner to appear out of nowhere and claim rights to a home into which you'd sunk a lot of money. But in my case, I suspected with a great deal of certainty that the owner had long since kicked the bucket.
Finally, the Hutt nodded graciously and handed me the datapad.
"I like your openness to business," the gangster evaluated. "I need partners like that."
"There is no need for more partners in our common business," I warned. "We will manage on our own."
Jabba waved his hands disapprovingly.
"I never cease to be amazed at how Hutt pragmatism and calculation, and service to the ideals of your Order, can combine in you, Jedi?"
"Perhaps the reason is that I serve myself and my goals, and the Order is merely a means of achieving them?"
"And isn't the means to an end a bit too massive? For the sake of one oversector…"
Jabba went silent, struck by his guess. I didn't interrupt him—the thought had to mature on its own, without outside influence.
And Jabba did not disappoint.
"You won't limit yourself to one oversector, will you?"
"Shrewd," I noted.
Jabba smirked.
"Hm… I heard that in ancient times one Jedi was able to create his own empire, almost destroying the Republic. But those were chaotic times. You are either insane or heroically brave if you plan such a thing."
"And does one prevent the other?" I had to clarify. "My vision of the galaxy does not coincide with the Order's vision, nor with the Chancellor's views, and certainly not with the CIS's plans. I am the architect of my own happiness. And you yourself know how far I have advanced in terms of implementing my plans. My allies will be rewarded, and enemies will fall. One way or another, I will achieve my goal."
"For some reason, I'm inclined to believe you, Jedi," the Hutt glanced at the tray beside him, on which lay an info-crystal with incriminating data on the Hutt Council. A copy, of course.
The gangster was silent, considering his next move. He didn't need to be explained what was at stake.
"Such extensive ventures never happened without Hutt participation," Jabba declared. "But such help has a corresponding price."
"Can't two partners reach an agreement between themselves?" I smiled good-naturedly.
***
Descending the ramp onto the surface of a new planet for her, Darth Atroxa morosely looked over the dreary, in her opinion, landscape. Trees, green grass, mountains, hills, several streams. A typical residential swamp into which sentients across the galaxy come in search of rest, communion with nature, and other metaphysical idiocy.
Unlike them, she arrived here with a clear goal.
And, surprisingly, the clear goal was coming to her itself.
Gripping lightsaber hilts, three gifted ones in clothes similar to Jedi robes, only in darker tones, approached her.
They were descending from the top of the foothills, a couple of hundred meters from the landing zone. From where she felt a large concentration of Force-sensitives. Well, it was pleasant to realize she had found what she was looking for. Millennia of freezing hadn't damaged her tracking, hunting skills. As before, she is an implacable tool in her master's hands.
"We don't favor guests," one of those who approached declared. "Especially ones like you. We left the war, the Light and Darkness, to find power…"
"Shut your mouth, you pathetic wretch," the Lethan snapped. She had no intention of talking to this trio of frankly weak gifted ones. They were not interesting. Too weak. No wonder they play the role of expendable material.
Almost automatically, she reacted to their heterogeneous attack. With laziness, having parried the clumsy thrusts, the Sith Lady beheaded the renegade Jedi.
Stepping over the bodies of the fallen, she noticed with a squint the curious ones who had poured out of their huts hidden in the foothills. Their eyes were fixed on her blade, waiting for more. The Twi'lek smirked. During the flight, she had yielded to temptation and replaced the crystal, inserting into the blade a crimson synthetic stone she had preserved through thousands of years. It was the one that had been in her blade when the forces of the Eternal Empire invaded Korriban…
After captivity and torture, she received another crystal, becoming a Hand of the Emperor. But the new master won't mind her little stunt. Furthermore, even if he does, she'll find a way to shift his attention to more pleasant moments.
Another pleasant moment was not long in coming.
Thanks to years of training, the climb up the hill passed unnoticed for her. No one dared to come out to meet her, to try to stop her. They only watched her ascent.
In complete silence, she reached the borders of the settlement. Just as silently she walked to the central area, covered with snow-white sand. Graceful, ready for battle. Tense, like a spring about to snap open…
They watched. They were silent, looked at her, and were silent. All as one, dressed in worn Jedi robes. Outcasts. Renegades. Fallen. Jensaarai.
Finally, an elderly Anzat broke through from the back rows opposite her. Sizing her up from head to toe, he listened to the Force and spoke:
"I am Niccos Tyris. And you are a Sith."
"Once I was," she remembered her mission perfectly. And over years of service, she had learned that correctly chosen words cut no worse than a lightsaber. "But that path is in the past."
"But you came here," the former Jedi said. "To us, the 'hidden followers of truth'…"
"Truth?" she said with disdain. "You are like the blind, rushing from one extreme to another. From Light to Darkness, hoping to find in it answers to the questions your inflamed brain birthed."
The crowd whispered. Her words found their audience.
"Our path…"
"A dead end," she said confidently. "Light and Darkness are but facets of the One Force. The same one that gave me the power to finish off those three below. And with its help, I will finish you, Niccos Tyris, and show your followers that my master's teaching is stronger than all that you try to glean from Sith practices."
"This is absurd," the Anzat activated a snow-white blade, taking 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, utterly destroying his ridiculous defense. Shien, which he tried to oppose her with, could have achieved results. But against his strength, she put her experience and agility.
Exchanging blows, parrying and counterattacking, Atroxa laughed mockingly at the fallen Jedi, who almost had his tongue hanging 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.
For all these experiments, experienced instructors and years of training are needed. With the right approach, he could have been a decent rank-and-file militant. Но его смерть должна послужить примером глупого и нерационального подхода к изучению Темной стороны.
One cannot accept the Dark Side just a little. One cannot return to the Light for five minutes. Every ideology, every emanation must be accepted fully. Known, passed through oneself, and controlled. And only then will the mixture of control and rage give you the correct calculation and great power for victory.
To the misfortune of the Anzat, the red-skinned lady possessed this in perfection.
Ducking under the opponent's defense, she delivered a strike with an armored gauntlet to the lower abdomen of the opponent, after which, with a precise shiak thrust to the throat, she severed his spinal cord.
The unconscious body fell onto the sand, dropping the lightsaber. The gathered crowd of Jensaarai watched the body of the dead "teacher" in silence. 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 more," she said. "My master does not restrict himself to the views of Light and Darkness—they are natural for each of us as they are for any sentient being in the galaxy. Your teacher," she pointed with her blade toward the corpse, "believed you only needed to grasp a small part of Sith teaching to become stronger. And now he lies before you."
Atroxa scanned them with a gaze full of triumph. The gaze of a winner.
"I will make you an offer only once," she warned. "Join, and you will find the power due to you by right of birth. Or follow your late leader. It can be no other way. The split of the Force has come to an end."
For a minute she held the silent Jensaarai under her heavy gaze, ready to release streams of the Force and finish those who did not dare to accept her master's magnanimity. But seeing how yesterday's "hidden followers of truth" were one and all kneeling before her, she could not suppress a smile.
The Lord will be pleased.
***
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