That Jedi Knight got thrown to the rancor, but he survived."
"Jedi came here?" Gartogg had missed something else good.
"Yeah, and he killed the rancor."
Gartogg.grunted in shock. "Killed rancor?"
"It was a great fight," said Quella.
"Not so loud," Ah Kwan whispered. "Someone might think we like that
Jedi."
"Jedi killed rancor?" Gartogg repeated.
"Yeah, but Jabba's taking him with the smuggler and the Wookiee to the
Great Pit of Carkoon."
Gartogg snuffled thoughtfully.
The two humans nodded politely and walked away arm in arm.
Gartogg studied the rotting kitchen boy, then turned to the monk's
immobile face. "That it? Eh?
Mm!"
Grunting and snuffling sternly, he shifted his burdens slightly and
headed for the sail-barge docking area. It would be a good place to sit
down with his two companions. The' mystery would require more thought
and he didn't have much time.
Thumping footsteps woke Gartogg in the docking area. He had dozed off
for a few minutes, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall
between the other two; they too sat propped on each side of him.
As Ortugg stopped in front of him, Gartogg struggled to his feet.
"Gartogg!" Ortugg glowered at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Solved mystery!" Gartogg gurgled sleepily.
"Yeah? Well, make it quick. I sent Rogua and the other guards down to
the dungeon to drag the prisoners up here." Ortugg pointed to the
motionless monk.
"You got another one? So who killed them?"
"Not killed--meditating."
"Speak in complete sentences, you idiot!"
"Conspiracy!" Gartogg drew himself up proudly.
"Eh?" Ortugg cocked his porcine head, eyeing Gartogg with more regard
than usual. "You uncovered a conspiracy?"
"Aha!" Gartogg shouted. "You wanted to kill Ak-Buz the Weequay
sail-barge captain, because he might have invited me on board himself!"
"What?" Ortugg blinked blankly.
"But you didn't kill him. Instead, Porcellus the cook put him to sleep
with special sleeping recipes in the plastifoam appetizer!"
"Plastifoam? That's packing material, not an appetizer.
Why--"
"Not finished!" Gartogg declared, holding his head high.
He nodded toward Phlegmin. "Kitchen boy was friend of Ephant Mon!"
"Yeah, so?"
"I know because he was found near Ephant Mon's quarters!"
"But what about it?"
"Ree-Yees said so!"
"What does that have to do with anything?" Ortugg demanded.
"Conspiracy!"
"Go on, get to the point!" Ortugg glared angrily.
"So, Malakili the rancor keeper needs no extra rancor food!"
"Gartogg, you bag of rancor droppings! What is your point?"
"Point?"
"Who killed these people you're carrying?"
"This one meditating, not dead." Gartogg jiggled the monk again.
"Testing himself, before friends remove his brain from his chest."
"What?" Ortugg screamed in frustration.
"What, what? What's wrong?" Gartogg searched Or-tugg's face in
puzzlement.
"Who's behind this conspiracy?"
"Oh---process of elimination. All dead killed by snot vampire!"
Gartogg smiled triumphantly.
"Who?"
"Snot vampire!" Gartogg shouted.
Ortugg's voice dropped to a cautious whisper.
"Dannik Jerriko?"
"Aha!" Gartogg yelled again. "Um, go sail barge now?"
Ortugg glared in mystified silence at Gartogg.
"Go sail barge?" Gartogg repeated hopefully.
"And why do you think Dannik Jerriko killed this kitchen boy?"
"No evidence!"
"There is no evidence?"
"And snot vampire never leaves evidence--so he must be guilty!"
Ortugg's shoulders sagged. "Gartogg, get out of here before I cut your
head off for the sand inside it!"
"Snot vampire not guilty?" Gartogg whimpered.
"No! And when I come back--you'll be ground up and sent to Porcellus to
cook for Jabba's dinner!" Or-tugg shoved him out of the way and stomped
angrily to the sail barge, leaving Gartogg alone with his companions.
"No sail barge?" Gartogg snuffled sadly. "Ground pork?"
From the dungeon, the roar of the Wookiee and the rattling of chains
reached him distantly. The other guards would drag the prisoners onto
the sail barge and go out for a trip. As usual, Gartogg would be left
behind.
On the other hand, he was no longer alone. Now he had friends, even if
they weren't exactly talkative. He squatted down facing the two seated
figures.
Gartogg looked from the kitchen boy to the monk and back, making sure he
spoke in a complete sentence.
"What do you guys want to do now?"
Old Friends: Ephant Mon's Tale by Kenneth C. Flint I saw Skywalker the
first time right after he came into Jabba's palace.
He was just a black figure then, wrapped in a big cloak, face hidden by
a cowl. Still, there was something about him that raised the hackles on
me.
That old merc instinct made me duck into the cover of a pile of
crates--not so easy for a guy over two meters tall--to scan the stranger
like a scared range dog.
At the moment he was being confronted by Jabba's head boy Bib Fortuna
while a couple of drooling Gamorrean guards stood by.
I stared at him real hard. There was something about him that made a
funny ripple run through me.
All kinds of things were stirring, and I couldn't peg 'em down.
Fear? Naw, not for me. But confusion and wonder? Yeah, them for sure.
Anyway, the little discussion between him and For-tuna lasted only a few
seconds. Then Jabba's major-domo turned and led him right on in like
he'd bought the place. They headed along the corridor toward Jabba's
throne room, the guards falling in behind.
I ducked back further behind the crates, some impulse still wanting to
keep me well hidden. It worked, but.only for Fortuna and the trailing
guards. None of them noticed me as they went past. But that one in
black, he turned his head as he walked by to flash me a straight look.
When his gaze met mine, I felt some kind of . . .
of... Well . . . a power hit me like a gaffing-stick butt right between
the eyes. I felt an explosion of white energy shoot through me,
lighting my insides right to the very core.
It riled up things way deep down in my skull. They rose from the black
depths like a ripe corpse from a swamp. There was some ugly stuff
there, memories of some things better left submerged. But one bright
vision gleamed amongst the slime: the green-gold recollection of a land
of trees and sun.
And that gave me a pang for something lost I suddenly knew I'd loved.
I shook my head to clear it of the crazy feeling and blinked a few
times. When I looked again, they'd all disappeared around the
corridor's bend.
It was too many late nights carousing with Jabba, I
told myself. Nothing more. And, even though I had a nagging urge to go
after them and see if there was more, I shoved it away. I had an
appointment, a
nd I was already late. I took off for the garage at my
best trot.
I found Barada there, as usual, head buried in the engine compartment of
one of his pet vehicles, as usual. He always seemed to be working on
one craft or another of Jabba's big repulsorpool. I think it helped him
forget what a trap his life was.
The poor Klatooinan was indentured to the Hutt forever, I guessed.
He was too valuable to Jabba. The Bloated One was never letting this
poor sucker buy his way out. But the guy was still dead loyal to his
boss, and dead honest, too. And he was one of the few there I really
liked.
"How's it going, chief?" I saluted, slapping him on the back.
"Got a machine for me?"
He waved around without pulling his head from the craft's guts.
"Take any skiff you want."
There were a number of the little utility vehicles
parked around us. But they weren't good enough.
"I need something faster. I'm in a hurry, pal."
He pulled his head out this time and turned toward me. His face was set
in a scowl, but it was always that way. The personality behind it was
very earnest and mostly good-natured.
"For you, Mon, okay. Take that XP-38A there." He pointed out a low,
sleek-bodied landspeeder. "It's as hot as I have. But, watch it!
Steering's real loose."
Its steering was as advertised, but so was its speed.
I'd made up my lost time when I sailed into Mos Eisley spaceport and
pulled up in front of the Lucky Despot hotel.
I climbed out and looked around, taking in the place. Sure, the
sprawling spaceport was pretty much a dump for the refuse of the galaxy,
but I still liked getting in there once in a while. I'd come from a
planet of all open space and light. The closed-in feel of Jabba's pile
got to me pretty fast. I took any chance to stretch my legs, such as
they were.
I walked toward the hotel. The old place wasn't really a building. It
had been converted from a beat-up cargo hauler by some investors with
more credits than brains. It had never been successful and was open now
only as a front for Lady Valarian's operations.
Now that Whiphid dame was one gutsy customer, trying at big odds to
carve out a piece of Jabba's pie right under his . . . uh . . .
chins. It seemed to me she might just do it too.
I went up the steep outside ramp to the top level where the hotel lounge
and casino were. Those too-pretty, too-smooth humanoid twins Sturn and
Anton were at the front desk and waved gaily at me as I passed through
the lobby. They made my skin crawl--and that's a lot of skin.
Beyond them, on the left, was the hotel's lounge. I turned in there,
hoping for a quick drink before my meet.
It had a shabby look, like the whole place did. The rich fittings and
fancy furniture had long since worn to third-hand junk, and the lady
hadn't spent one thin credit on restoring things.
There were a few score assorted beings drinking there. I gave them a
casual glanceover as I headed for the bar. The only one of note was
that weasel-faced Prefect Talmont, the Empire's local stooge.
Ineffectual by breeding. Slimy by birth. Untrustworthy by nature.
He sat drinking at a table with some of his officers, taking a rare
moment for a laugh.
But he sucked that up sharp to stare at me when I came in.
I made the bay next to a pair of humanoid-type boys. They were big,
beefy, and riding pretty low on the forehead. Manual workers, I
guessed, but not from Tatooine. A little too clean for that. And no
local smell.
The bulb-headed Bith tending bar approached.
"Good seeing you, Mon," he greeted. "Here to see the lady?"
I nodded. "Let her know I'm here, will ya? But first, give me an ale.
Usual brand."
"Better put it in a bucket, barkeep, for a mouth like that," said one of
the humanoids, and they both guffawed.
"Yeah," said the other. And to me, "Hey, face-guy, how d'ya even get a
drink to your mouth with those arms?"
I ignored them both. Waiting for my drink, I gazed across the bar's top
at my reflection in the dirty mirror behind. I suppose that to these
oddly built humanoid types I did seem mostly a long face set on two
stubby trunks of legs. And maybe my thick arms didn't seem capable of
reaching to my mouth. But for a Chevin I'm considered a decent
specimen. Or, I was. Admittedly I've put a few more wrinkles on the
old snout.
But it's seen a lot of hard wear over the years, being shoved into
places it likely shouldn't have been.
Besides, beauty's relative in the galaxy, and most seasoned travelers
respect that. These two jokers must have been greener than a moisture
boy as well as bad-mannered.
"Hey, ugly," one of the two persisted, giving me a shove, "we're talkin'
to you."
This time I turned around to him. "You bantha fodder looking for
trouble?"
"You're sure not gonna give it to us, face," he sneered.
"You're asking to buy the Depp, boy," the barkeep warned him.
"That's Ephant Mon. He--" The other broke in. "He's a big talking head
with too much face! Watch me carve him a bigger nose!"
I saw the broad knife flash into his hand. I .jerked forward, slamming
my forehead down on the top of his skull.
A Chevin's topknot is like iron. A humanoid's skull isn't. It cracked
like an egg and he went down hard.
The other idiot still charged in, dragging a blaster out from under his
coat. My vibroblade was faster. I had it out and into his chest before
his gun cleared holster. He'd made the final jump before he hit the
booze-stained floor.
The officers with Talmont stood as one, hands going to their guns.
But the Prefect waved them down.
He got up and strode casually over to me, looking at the bodies sprawled
together on the floor.
"Well, well, my dear Ephant Mon, you've freed two more tormented souls,
I see."
"Speaking of seeing, I'm surprised you recognized me," I told him,
slipping my blade away.
"Can't mistake your style," he said, peering squintily at me. He was
pretty shortsighted.
"No complaints?"
"For ridding me of some riffraff?" he said lightly.
"Certainly not. We've no place for them." He eyed me more curiously.
"But what about you? Come here on some business?"
"Just a drink."
"Really? Surprised your boss Jabba let you off the leash."
"No one tells me when to go or when to come.
Including Jabba!" I said sharply. "I'm a free agent."
"So I've heard." He sounded skeptical. "Nobody understands why."
"Too bad," I said bluntly.
"Most intriguing," he mused on. "Someone like that would be in a
position to take great advantage of the Hutt."
"I don't take advantage of my loyalties, Talmont."
He colored at that shot, but before he could answer the barkeep
approached.
"Ephant, Valarian says to go on back," he announced.
He gestured to the dead bodies. "I'll take care of things here."
"Thanks." I turn
ed to go.
"Seeing Valarian, eh?" Talmont called after me.
"Did you mean what you said about loyalties? She is Jabba's rival."
"If you're so interested in intrigues," I tossed back to him, "why don't
you talk to Tessek?"
I didn't even have to look around to know I'd scored with that one. I
could hear his surprised gasp.
A short corridor from the bar led into the casino.
Of course, it was only that in name now. Jabba had blocked all the
Tales From Jabba's Palace Page 18