Tales From Jabba's Palace

by Kevin J. Anderson

  shuffling behind her on the tunnel floor. She spun around, dropping

  into combat stance.

  The Gamorrean guards she'd left at the top of the tunnel had caught up

  with her. And they'd brought a half-dozen friends with them.

  Two by two, blocking her exit with their bulk, they started toward her.

  Mara didn't have time for this, and she wasn't in the mood for it

  anyway. Reaching Out with the Force, she jabbed hard at the minds of

  the first two guards. They stopped short, quivered for a moment on

  their thick legs, their long force pikes dropping with a clatter from

  limp hands. Then, to the obvious consternation of those behind them,

  they collapsed.

  Mara had one of the force pikes in her hands before they hit the floor.

  Swinging it expertly around in the confines of the tunnel, she feinted

  past the weapons of the second row of guards and slashed the deadly

  power tip across their faces. They staggered, clutching their wounds,

  and fell back against the third row. Jumping up on the backs of the

  first downed Gamorreans, Mara again jabbed past the momentary tangle to

  cut into the next row.

  A brief minute later, it was over.

  Breathing heavily, she turned back to the grating.

  The force pike's vibroblade made a fair racket as it cut through the

  metal, but there was probably enough of a ruckus coming down from

  Jabba's throne room to cover it. Pitching the force pike through the

  opening, she squirmed her way into the pit.

  The place was even more disgusting than it had looked from the outside.

  The door that had killed the creature was blocking any exit in that

  direction, but there was a small round hatchway partway up the opposite

  wall. The force pike made quick work of the hatchway, revealing a steep

  but climbable slide behind it. Probably the end of the route that

  started atJabba's trapdoor. Grabbing a nearby bone that was slightly

  longer than the slide's width, she wedged it into the opening and pulled

  herself inside. Alternating her bracing between the bone and her own

  leg, she started up.

  She came out a couple of meters short, the section directly beneath the

  trapdoor turning out to be a wide, straight drop that funneled the

  victim into the slide. Wedging the bone against the slide opening, she

  eased her way up to a precarious standing position. A small connection

  box was set into the wall; a careful prodding of the right connector,

  and the two sections of the trapdoor dropped open above her.

  No one fell through or peered down at her. In fact, what conversation

  she could hear sounded distant.

  Grimacing to herself, hoping she wasn't too late, she got a grip on the

  edge of one of the trapdoors and started climbing.

  The throne room was empty as she pulled herself over the edge, but the

  rapidly fading noise showed her which way they'd all gone.

  Following the sounds, watching for guards who may have been alerted

  about her, she headed in pursuit. Skywalker was out there somewhere;

  with luck and the Force--maybe she could still catch up with him.

  Beyond the milling crowd in the vast vehicle hangar was a large sail

  barge, busily taking on passengers. To one side a pair of skiffs were

  similarly being loaded.

  Guards were everywhere: human, Gamorrean, a half-dozen other species; on

  the skiffs, on the sail barge, roughly controlling the crowd as they

  weeded out those apparently not invited to go along.

  Wherever Skywalker was in all that--assuming he was there at all --Mara

  couldn't spot him.

  But she could see Jabba. He was on his float, surrounded by guards and

  lackeys, being maneuvered toward the sail barge's lift.

  Pushing through the crowd, she hurried toward him.

  The guards were watching as she approached, but she couldn't read

  anything but normal caution in their faces and stances. Apparently,

  word of her alleged involvement with this Lady Valarian hadn't gotten to

  them yet. "Your Exaltedness?" she called, stopping just short of the

  warning ring of weapons.

  "Your Exaltedness? Please?"

  Jabba turned his head toward her. "I'm Arica, Your Exaltedness," she

  called. "One of your dancers.

  Could I please come along with you?"

  The Hutt rumbled something and gestured to one of the guards, who in

  turn prodded the C-3PO protocol droid. "Oh--ah--the great Jabba the

  Hutt says no," the droid translated distractedly, not even looking at

  Mara. She followed his gaze to one of the skiffs Just in time to catch

  a fleeting glimpse of Skywalker, standing proud and straight, as the

  skiff took off through the hangar door.

  And he was getting away. "Please, Your Exaltedness?"

  Mara begged, putting all the strength of her most powerful Force

  mind-control technique behind the words.

  She might as well have spat at a stone wall. The Hutt chuckled, his

  eyes swiveling to face her, and spoke again. "The greatJabba the Hutt

  says you are to leave him now," the protocol droid said, still gazing

  forlornly after the departing skiff. "He says a land-speeder will be

  placed at your disposal, and that you are not to be seen here again."

  For a moment Mara locked eyes with the Hutt, trying futilely to read

  that impenetrable alien mind. Did he have some idea of who she was,

  perhaps even of why she was here? Or did he merely suspect, as Melina

  had, that she was part of a conspiracy and was hoping she would lead him

  to his enemies?

  It didn't really matter. She couldn't catch Sky-walker's skiff with a

  landspeeder, and she couldn't fight all of them. One way or the other,

  it was time to go.. "I thank Your Exaltedness for his kindness," she

  said, matching ambiguity with ambiguity. "May you live forever."

  So you have failed, the Emperor's thoughts said, the chill of his anger

  sending a shiver through Mara despite the blazing heat of Tatooine's

  twin suns. I am disappointed, Mara Jade. Disappointed, indeed.

  I know, Mara answered, the bitter taste of defeat mixing with the grit

  of sand in her mouth as the land-speeder skimmed across the desert. But

  perhaps Jabba can deal.with him.

  His anger had made her shiver. His contempt now made her ache.

  Do you seriously believe that?

  She sighed. No.

  For a moment he was silent, and Mara could sense him reaching deeply

  into the Force. Searching into the future . . . Skywalker is of no

  immediate importance, he said at last. Continue on to Svivren.

  We will discuss this when you return.

  The image and sense faded, and he was gone.

  With a sigh, Mara returned her full attention to the desert landscape

  before her. So she had failed. Her first true failure since the

  Emperor had designated her his Hand. It hurt. Terribly.

  But it was all right. She would make it all right.

  Skywalker might escape now, but he couldn't avoid her forever.

  Eventually, somewhere, she'd catch up with him.

  And then he would die. And Then There Were Some: The Gamorrean Guard's

  Tale

  by William F. Wu

  GartOgg the Gamorrean guard was waddling through the dimly lit
corridor

  of Jabba the Hutt's palace toward the servants' quarters on his assigned

  patrol when he heard a disturbance behind him. The main entry slammed

  shut and chains rattled; he paused, snorting thoughtfully. At the sound

  of a Wookiee roaring in protest, Gartogg hurried back toward the main

  entry, anxious to prove his worth to Ortugg, leader of the nine porcine

  Gamorreans working here for Jabba.

  "Ortugg," he gurgled. "Wait."

  The Wookiee roared again as a bounty hunter pulled his prisoner by his

  chains down the steps to the main audience chamber. Gartogg lumbered

  after them, hoping to get in a good shove or two, but he was too

  late--as usual. Ortugg and Rogua, the other Gamorrean posted at the

  main entry with the chief, followed the bounty hunter and the Wookiee.

  "Prisoner?" Gartogg came up behind Ortugg.

  "Shut up," said Ortugg.

  "Yeah, shut up." Rogua shouldered Gartogg back out of the way.

  Gartogg said nothing as he stumbled backward. Or-tugg always treated

  him this way, but Gartogg knew he deserved it. He had never really

  earned his chief's respect. Members of other species here always joked

  and complained about how stupid the Gamorreans were, but Gartogg didn't

  believe that; to him, Ortugg, Rogua, and their other fellow guards

  seemed as intelligent as the rest of Jabba's followers.

  Jabba dickered with the bounty hunter as the crowd watched carefully.

  "Boba Fett?" Gartogg asked, trying to shove between Ortugg and Rogua

  again.

  "Of course not," Ortugg muttered impatiently.

  "Boba Fett's over there." He pointed through the crowd with a thick

  green arm. "This bounty hunter's called Boushh."

  "And the others call us stupid." Rogua shook his head.

  Jabba spoke to the visiting bounty hunter.

  "He agrees!" one of the new droids interpreting for Jabba announced

  from Jabba's dais.

  Jabba signaled for the Gamorrean guards to haul the Wookiee down to the

  dungeon.

  Ortugg and Rogua stepped forward to take the Wookiee's chains.

  "Me, too." Gartogg lumbered after them.

  Ortugg put a big green hand on his chest. "No. Go back to your

  patrol."

  "Sail barge," Gartogg grunted frantically.

  "What?"

  "Sail barge?"

  "Speak plainly, you idiot. What about it?"

  "Want to go. Next time."

  "The rest of us Gamorreans speak in complete sentences!"

  Rogua whacked Gartogg on the side of his head with his open hand.

  "Why can't you?"

  Gartogg blinked dizzily from the blow, snuffling.

  "Huh?"

  "You want to be assigned to the sail barge next time Jabba takes it

  out?" Ortugg demanded.

  Gartogg snorted in the affirmative.

  Rogua snorted contemptuously.

  "You must earn that kind of assignment," said Or-tugg.

  "You never have."

  "Audience chamber?" Gartogg asked hopefully.

  "No! Return to your patrol!"

  Stung, Gartogg watched in disappointment as Or-tugg and Rogua grabbed

  the Wookiee's chains and dragged him away to the dungeon. As the band

  struck up their, music, and the crowd in the audience chamber resumed

  their party, Gartogg plodded away. He never had any fun.

  As he wandered the dark, empty corridors alone as usual, he snuffled and

  muttered to himself. Ortugg always ordered him to sentry duty at places

  where nothing ever happened. When off duty, Gartogg wandered Jabba's

  palace in the hope of finding something important to do. Even his

  fellow Gamorrean guards didn't want his company. Every time they had a

  special assignment, like protecting Jabba the Hutt on an excursion in

  his sail barge, they left Gartogg behind.

  Footsteps up ahead told him someone was coming this way Eagerly hoping

  for company, he looked up and saw two familiar humans, a pale, slender,

  brown-haired woman and a stocky man with-black hair and slanted eyes.

  Gartogg had heard they were a couple of thieves hiding out with Jabba.

  "Good evening," he snorted enthusiastically.

  Both humans flinched in surprise and stared at him.

  "What did he say?" Quivering, the woman whispered without taking her

  eyes off Gartogg. "Ah Kwan, did you understand him?"

  "Sorry, Quella," said Ah Kwan. "I can't tell what language that was."

  "Good evening," Gartogg snorted, more loudly.

  Both humans drew back.

  "What do you want?" Ah Kwan rested one hand on the handle of a long

  knife at his belt. "What did you say?"

  "Good evening!" Gartogg roared in frustration, raising his clawed

  fists.

  The man and woman whirled and ran up the hall; in a moment, they

  vanished around a corner.

  Gartogg sighed. No one liked him. Alone, he trudged up the corridor.

  It was always the same.

  Earlier that day, as Gartogg had plodded alone through the shadowed,

  empty corridors of the palace, he kept the peace by his very presence.

  After all, nearly everyone he met, even the other Gamorrean guards,

  hurried away when they saw him coming.

  Gartogg heard a couple of loud footsteps, as though someone had tripped,

  echoing in the corridor leading down to the servants' quarters. He

  hurried to investigate, still longing for some special accomplishment he

  could show his fellows, a contribution that Ortugg would respect. Maybe

  then Ortugg would let him go the next time Jabba journeyed out on the

  sail barge.

  As fast as his thick, muscular legs could move, Gartogg thumped down the

  corridor and turned a corner, hefting his ax optimistically.

  He saw Porcellus, the human chef, kneeling over someone on the floor.

  The chef was a very thin, jittery man with receding, dark blond hair; as

  usual, he wore his white chef's uniform, perpetually smeared with all

  sorts of ingredients with interesting aromas.

  Gartogg liked Porcellus. The chef always had plenty of food lying

  around the kitchen. All the Gamorrean guards went snorting and

  snuffling around there for snacks. Last week, Gartogg had found four of

  his fellow Gamorreans fighting in the kitchen over who could lick out

  the bowl from a dessert. Delighted to join in the fun, Gartogg had

  almost chopped off Porcellus's head with his ax by accident, but the

  chef didn't seem to hold it against him. He was a good fellow.

  Now Porcellus knelt over Ak-Buz, the commander of Jabba's sail barge.

  Ak-Buz, a Weequay, lay motionless, sprawled on his back with his arms

  outstretched and his eyes staring vacantly.

  This was Gartogg's chance to think out the situation on his own.

  He studied the scene. In his opinion, Ak-Buz did not look well.

  "Hey!" Gartogg snorted. "What's happened here?"

  Porcellus leaped to his feet, quivering. "What?"

  Gartogg walked up to Ak-Buz and frowned down at him. "He's dead?"

  "He isn't dead," Porcellus said quickly, his face shiny with sweat.

  "He's asleep. He's resting. He said he was tired and he was going back

  to take a nap. He must have . . . he must have fallen asleep right

  here in the hall."

  Gartogg studied Ak-Buz's unmoving face. Those staring eyes did not

  move. Gart
ogg snuffled thoughtfully.

  "Looks dead."

  "Have you ever seen a Weequay sleep?"

  "Uh . . . no."

  "Well, there you are." Porcellus crouched and lifted Ak-Buz, tugging

  one of the commander's arms around his shoulders. "Now I'm going to get

  him to his quarters---er--before he wakes up."

  Gartogg nodded. That would be good; Weequays shouldn't sleep in the

  hallway. Someone could trip over him. "Want help?"

  "Thank you," the chef said, smiling. "I'm fine."

  Gartogg sighed. For a moment, he thought he had found something

  important, like a corpse, but he was mistaken. Now he had been left

  alone again, with nothing much to do.

  Snorting in disappointment, he had plodded back upstairs.

  Late that evening, Gartogg was wearily climbing the stairs up to the

  guest quarters when he heard a single set of footsteps behind him.

  Hoping something horrible might happen so he could catch the guilty