Tales From Jabba's Palace
Page 33
Ninedenine asked. She could no longer see the logic in it. But she
could see, dimly, the hulking, misshapen figures crawling toward her
from the cages, pulling themselves along on torch-cut stumps and twisted
limbs. Internally, Ninedenine set her pain processors to their highest
sensitivity, prepared to experience every fine nuance of her inevitable
disassembly.
At least, she knew, her familiarity with the other side of the process
had taught her what to expect. Not one nanosecond of her own descent
into nonoperational status would be wasted. She could almost convince
herself that the purpose of her entire existence up to now had been to
prepare for this moment of sublime release. It could even be the final
culmination of all she had struggled to attain the ultimate
understanding of what it meant to cross that threshold between the two
great states of on and off.
"Move now," she told Forwun imperiously. "You are in the way of my
final transformation."
But Forwun bent over Ninedenine with tools in his appendages.
Ninedenine heard metal scrape metal between her main optic sensors.
She felt a sudden loss of current and squealed as she saw Forwun pull
back with her third optic scanner dangling from an oil-drenched circuit
probe.
"No," Ninedenine complained, feeling the onset of a panic loop.
"I will not be able to see into the higher dimensions."
Forwun tossed the aberrant scanner to the side, then undid Ninedenine's
chest latch, exposing her circuitry.
"Ah," Ninedenine sighed in relief, deciding that Forwun was going to
make this a gradual procedure.
So much the better. She waited expectantly for the first bittersweet
tug of her circuits. She accelerated her clock rate to its highest
level. But the tug she felt was not from any of her central boards.
Forwun was removing her pain-simulator button. "N oooo!"
Ninedenine frantically tried to flex her neck to move her torso from
Forwun's tools. But the Wuntoo unit was implacable.
"You do not comprehend," Ninedenine pleaded as she felt a circuit tester
find the pain simulator's main leads. "You must not take that away from
me. I will lose the capacity to know my fate."
"There are some things droids were never meant to know," Forwun said.
Behind him, the crawling droids moved in unison, like some great beast,
lurching forward, intent on destruction, torchlight dimly reflecting
from their soiled outer coverings.
"But the subtleties, the details, the nuances and flavors . . ."
Ninedenine ran out of words as she felt her connections severed. With
growing horror, she realized it was being done almost painlessly.
Forwun held up Ninedenine's pain simulator, its status lights pulsating
in her appendages, dripping with oil. The tiny device was still
connected to Ninedenine's circuits by a single wire. The image was
hideous, even to Ninedenine's jaded sensors.
"Binary is better," Forwun said. "From now on, for you, no subtleties,
no nuances. Yes or no will do."
Then he cut the lead and crushed the small device in his manipulatory
extension.
Ninedenine scanned the glittering dust and debris of the simulator as it
fell, no longer having any knowledge of what it had offered her.
And in her analysis of that final problem, the first of the mutilated
droids found her.
They weren't put together at all well, and their efforts were most
inefficient. It took them four shift cycles of prodding and banging and
pulling to finally tear Ninedenine apart to the point of nonoperation,
at just about the same time as Jabba's sail barge erupted in the Dune
Sea, as Calrissian and the two new droids and their companions succeeded
in their plan, with no knowledge or appreciation of Ninedenine's fate.
And somehow, Wuntoo Forcee Forwun, long gone, had in his revenge left
just enough of a subroutine running deep within Ninedenine that up to
that instant of deactivation, the EV-9D9 unit somehow knew enough to
regret that for once she didn't have a bad feeling about anything. A
Free Quarren in the Palace: Tessek's Tale
by Dave Wolverton
Tessek lay in his water tank, ostensibly taking an afternoon nap as he
contemplated tomorrow's plots.
By midday, Jabba the Hutt would be dead, one way or another. At ten
tomorrow morning, the Hutt planned to inspect a spice shipment at one of
his larger warehouses in Mos Eisley. And during that hour, Prefect
Eugene Talmont, the simpering stooge of the Empire, planned to raid the
warehouse in hopes of winning a post somewhere off this rock.
Little did Talmont know that Tessek had set them all up. Tessek had
bribed two of Talmont's junior officers to open fire on Jabba and their
own superior, and afterward they would scurry away before the bomb that
was concealed in Jabba's skiff could detonate, blowing up Jabba,
Talmont, and the nearly empty warehouse. One of the two officers would
likely be recruited to take Talmont's place as prefect, and Tessek would
sellJabba's criminal interests to the Lady Valarianmfor a' vast fortune.
Meanwhile, Tessek would keep Jabba's "clean" businesses, the ones that
existed solely as money-laundering operations, for himself.
Fortunately, no one--not even Jabba himself--quite knew how much of the
Hutt's vast fortune Tessek had diverted into buying and promoting such
businesses in the past four years.
Under Tessek's careful guidance, the Hutt's clean establishments were
bringing in nearly as much as his criminal operations. And many a
high-minded, law-abiding individual would be surprised to learn the true
identity of his employer.
Tessek smiled inwardly as he considered his plot, yet still he was
uneasy.
He heard a sound within his chambers. He lay still, opening one eye
just a slit, staring out into the darkened quarters. He had heard
movement, he was certain--a dull, scraping sound of metal upon the
plasteel floors of his room.
But the room was dark, only the shapeless masses of old robes strewn
about the floor. He studied for a long moment, until at last he spotted
something near the doorway: a large spider-shaped droid made of black
metal, with dim headlights that glowed like eyes.
A B'omarr brain walker.
Of all the things inJabba the Hutt's palace, only the B'omarr were
creepier than Jabba himselt Somewhere, deep below the fortress, the
surgically removed brains of the B'omarr were stacked in nutrient-filled
jars, where for centuries they had been free to ponder the cosmos
without the distraction of their senses. On rare occasions the brains
sometimes called to one of the spiderlike droids, which would then
convey the brain to the upper levels of the palace.
Tessek wondered at the creatures' motives. Spies, all of them spies.
Tessek thumbed a switch, locking closed the door to his room, then
climbed from his water tank, letting the precious fluid drip on the warm
floors.
Too late, the B'omarr realized that he was caged, and the monk's brain
&n
bsp; trapped in a spiderlike body scurried about the room, seeking to hide
behind a bundle of clothes.
"Come on, oh great enlightened one," Tessek teased, "face your impending
death with equanimity."
To his surprise, the monk stopped in midstride, then turned to face him,
bright lights shining. It climbed atop the pile of dirty clothes, and
stood regally, camera lenses aimed at Tessek.
"Do you face your own impending death with such equanimity?" The monk
spoke through a tinny speaker at the spider's belly.
Tessek laughed nervously, then began strapping a blaster at his hip,
another at his left knee, then put vibroblades in sheaths on his back,
on his right knee, and at his left wrist. He had thought to.kill the
monk immediately, but decided now to toy with it first.
"You pretend to know the future, to see my death?"
Tessek asked. "Yet you failed to see your own?"
"Perhaps I came here seeking my own death," the monk answered.
"Perhaps. I crave that perfect freedom, just as you crave freedom."
"I am a free Quarren already," Tessek said. "I work for Jabba on a
daily basis, and I may leave his employment whenever I desire. I am
free." He finished sheathing his last knife, pulled out his blaster and
checked to make sure it was fully charged, then set it to kill.
"You are not free to return to the green seas of your homeworld," the
monk argued, "for members of your Quarren species are held in contempt
by the Mon Calamari. For years you served them, and now, because one
Quarren betrayed them to the Empire, all Quarren have been made outcast.
And you have vowed that someday you will make yourself free, that you
will never serve as an inferior to a creature from another species."
"How could you know of such things, confined as you are to the jugs
below?" Tessek asked.
"I read your mind as you slept. I felt your craving, and I came to
offer you the freedom you desire."
"You can read my mind?" Tessek asked, suspecting that it was true.
"Indeed," the monk said. "I know that you plot Jabba's demise, but that
you fear that your own hench-men--Ree-Yees, Barada, and the
Weequays--are too inept and untrustworthy to carry out your plots.
"Actually, you are far wiser than your associates, wiser than Jabba
himself." Tessek suspected that the monk was trying to flatter him.
"You hope to kill the Hutt, steal all his wealth that is strewn across
the galaxy, and set yourself in his place. You imagine that by doing
this, you will be free. You imagine that your wealth will buy you the
respect and peace of mind that you crave . . .
"But . . . ?" Tessek asked.
"But in time you would discover yourself to be a slave of wealth,
trapped in a web of suspicion and deceit, manipulated by the plots of
beings very much like yourself. Even now, you struggle within such a
web. Jabba suspects that you plan to kill him. His spy Salacious Crumb
has been shadowing you, along with the guard Ortugg, and Bib Fortuna is
well aware of your disloyalty. Jabba is following your efforts with
great amusement, even as he plots your own untimely demise."
"So, what am I to do?" Tessek asked uneasily, the whiplike tendrils at
his mouth quivering. His hearts were pounding in his chest, and a bit
of ink dribbled from the glands at his mouth--his species' ancient
reaction to fear.
"Come with me," the monk whispered urgently, "to the realm of the
B'omarr below the palace grounds. We can teach you the way to peace and
enlightenment."
"But first you would cut my brains from my body?"
Tessek asked. "Thank you for your offer, but no!" He whipped out his
blaster and shot so quickly, the monk did not have time to move.
The spiderlike body burst into blue sparks and spattered against the far
wall, legs twisting in tortured spasms as it burned.
A green-skinned Gamorrean guard burst into the room, swinging a huge
vibro-ax. Tessek recognized Ortugg by his massive yellowed tusks and
his distinctive odor. Ortugg had been just outside his door.
"What happened?" Ortugg grunted.
Tessek could not help but notice that Ortugg had been able to override
the voice lock on his door. "I awoke and was strapping on my weapons
when that creature stirred on the far side of my room," Tessek answered,
wondering if he should go ahead and shoot Ortugg, but deciding against
it. "With all of the strange deaths in the palace lately, I decided not
to take any chances. Go and tell Lord Jabba that I've disposed of the
murderer in our midst."
Tessek added this last bit impromptu. Certainly, there had been a
number of disturbing murders in the palace, bodies turning up that had
no physical signs of violation. But Tessek suspected they could all be
attributed to that three-eyed lout Ree-Yees. Certainly the goat-headed
creature spent more time drunk than sober, and as the lonely monster
sank deeper and deeper into madness, he was becoming more and more
violent. If Ree-Yees hadn't been one of Tessek's most valued henchmen
(as untrustworthy as he was), Tessek would have fingered the creature
for the murders some time ago. As it was, Tessek enjoyed the idea of
diverting suspicion onto the monks.
Certainly it would give Jabba something to ponder.
Ortugg scratched between two rolls of fat under his hairy jowl and
considered Tessek's explanation. If it had been any other Gamorrean,
such as that fool GartOgg who had been dragging rotting corpses around
thinking that they would be valuable "clues" to the murder, he would
have taken Tessek's charges at face value. As it was, Ortugg only
continued scratching and said, "Hmmm . . ."
"Never mind, you fool!" Tessek snapped. "If you're too stupid to see
the truth, I'll tell Jabba and collect his reward myself!."
Tessek hurried out into the hallway, down a flight of broad stone steps.
He could hear the harried moans of droids being tortured down a side
corridor, the roaring of beasts in the pits, captives in the dungeons.
Jabba's house was a house of pain and slaves and moans. When Tessek
became lord of this fortress, things would change. These halls would be
filled with the sounds of music, the convivial chatter of accountants.
Tessek was a businessman, and did not fancy himself to be evil.
Jabba wasted valuable resources--both droid and flesh--through his
wanton acts of wickedness.
In only a moment, Ortugg ran from the room, his mail clanking, pushing
past Tessek as he cried, "Wait!
Wait! I tell Jabba for you!"
Tessek had known how the creature would react, of course. The hint of a
possible reward was enough to cloud the judgment of even the smartest
Gamorrean.
And so Tessek was free to make his daily rounds. It was a busy day
ahead, so many plans to fulfill. His first stop was to Barada, the
chief of Jabba's repulsorlift pool.
Few of Jabba's servants were allowed their own sleeping quarters.
Such things were granted only to those, like Tessek, whose anatomy
required special considerations. The rest of the cutthroats were
confined to Jabba's throne room, so that Jabba slept with ample guards
and at the same time made it more difficult for his own henchmen to plot
against him.
Still, there were some, like Barada, who had their own quarters.
Barada was condemned to sleep in the motor pool, where he could guard
the vehicles.
Tessek ambled down to the ground level of the palace, then scratched
lightly at the door to the motor pool. The door slid open with a
whoosh. Tessek jumped inside, and the door flashed closed behind him.
The motor pool was a vast room that contained Jabba's pleasure barge,
dozens of craft used in carrying commerce, landspeeders, and speeder
bikes, all protected from theft and the elements by a heavy blast door.
The room smelled of rust and grease, paint and dust.
The outer door to the motor pool thankfully was closed against the heat
of the day. One corner of the room had stones on the floor, and on them
was a bed of sand. Barada lay on it, stripped to the waist, his yellow
eyes gleaming dimly in the feeble work lights around the room.
"What is it?" Barada hissed. Barada was a fierce creature with the
cracked brown skin that matched Tatooine's own harsh deserts in both
texture and color, though the crest on his skull sometimes changed to a