Tales From Jabba's Palace

by Kevin J. Anderson

  ally, yet he dared speak only with discretion. "Great Jabba," he began.

  Jabba regarded Tessek with narrowed eyes. "I am afraid that I will be

  no good to you if I dehydrate further. May I retire to the kitchens for

  a quick sponge bath?"

  Jabba ogled him with obscene interest, relishing Tessek's suffering.

  "Stay here beside me," Jabba said.

  "Prove your loyalty."

  "Oh, Master, you can be assured of my loyalty: if trouble comes, I will

  take the place of honor--guarding your back!"

  "Ho, ho, ho, ho," Jabba chuckled quietly, then drew a long breath from

  his hookah, closing his eyes in ecstasy. In that moment, Tessek looked

  deep into Leia's eyes, trying to bore his traitorous intent into her.

  Surprisingly, her eyes suddenly widened, as if she understood

  completely. She nodded her chin, then turned away.

  In another hour, Tessek felt frail as they reached the Great Pit of

  Carkoon. The suns of Tatooine beat down mercilessly. Tessek's breath

  came shallow, and as Jabba eagerly leaned forward to watch the execution

  of Luke Skywalker, Tessek surreptitiously reached into one of the

  henchmen's drinks and rubbed the ice over his face.

  Jabba's protocol droid read the death sentence to Luke Skywalker and the

  Rebel heroes, then asked for any last words. Han Solo retorted with

  curses designed to be especially offensive to those of Huttese descent,

  while Skywalker simply offered Jabba one last chance to surrender.

  Tessek scanned the larboard horizon, certain that a phalanx of Rebel

  fighters must be screaming toward them. Confused, he turned and looked

  out the starboard side of the sail barge, then he looked up at

  Tatooine's blinding double suns. Still no sign of enemy craft.

  "Throw them in!" Jabba shouted, and his men pushed Luke Skywalker into

  the pit. But the young Jedi used the plank as a springboard--twisting

  in midair to land back on the vehicle, and someone on the sail barge

  tossed him a weapon. Within seconds, the Jedi was chopping up Jabba's

  men.

  "Get him! Get him!" Jabba shouted, and several henchmen began shooting

  at the Rebel heroes despite the fact that stray shots were as likely to

  hit their own comrades. They knew that Jabba would well reward the one

  who brought the Jedi down.

  For one slim moment, Tessek had to wonder when the Alliance aid would

  come. Han Solo and the heroes of the Rebel Alliance were fighting the

  best they could, but most of them seemed to be nothing more than a bunch

  of bunglers. One of them fell to the edge of the Great Pit of Carkoon,

  and the others rushed to his aid, leaving only the young Jedi to

  withstand the might of all of Jabba's forces.

  Tessek pulled out his own blaster, and stood at Jabba's back. All of

  Jabba's henchmen were rushing to the larboard side of the ship, trying

  to shoot Luke Skywalker and the other Rebels. Tessek suddenly had a

  clean shot to Jabba's head.

  But even as he considered whether to shoot, Leia jumped up and wrapped

  her chains around Jabba's throat, strangling him. Tessek could no

  longer get a clean shot atJabba's head, so he faded back two paces into

  the shadows, watching to see ifJabba's henchmen would notice Leia's

  move, wondering at the balance of this battle: would the Rebel Alliance

  come soon?

  Would Jabba's men shoot the Rebel heroes down?

  One of the Weequays--Tessek's own henchman--turned and saw Leia, began

  to raise a shout. Tessek fired into the man's throat. In all of the

  commotion, no one seemed to notice.

  Within seconds, one of the skiffs exploded his own bomb, he supposed and

  half of Jabba's men were dead. Leia finished off the Hutt, and Tessek,

  who had kept waiting for the Rebel attack, suddenly realized that there

  would be no phalanx of fighters. These --apparently bungling--Rebels

  were tearing Jabba's trained mercenaries apart. Their Wookiee fired a

  cannonade into the sail barge--causing it to list and whine complaining

  under Tessek's feet--then the Wookiee tried to rescue Han Solo.

  Tessek turned and fled for his life. He leaped through the kitchens,

  snagging a jug of water as he ran, found his swoop, unlatched an escape

  panel, and shot out over the sands at top speed.

  As he cleared the sail barge, a mushroom cloud rose up behind, a fiery

  testimonial to the end of Jabba's reign.

  Tessek drank deeply and poured the water over his skin, then wrapped his

  cloaks tightly about him as he headed home, considering how he might

  consolidate his forces at what once was Jabba's palace.

  He felt dry. The desert wind burned his face, sucked the moisture from

  him. He hated how he felt so dry, hated the hot knives of wind that

  sliced away at him, paring him down to the bone. But as the swoop

  soared over sand hills, dipped into shallows, Tessek realized that he

  felt light. For the first time in his life, he felt light and free .

  . .

  "I'm free. I'm free!" Tessek began gibbering. He dreamed of Jabba's

  wealth, lying about in unprotected heaps, and of the greater wealth

  carefully concealed in numbered accounts and prudently invested in

  businesses throughout the galaxy.

  Tessek reached Jabba's stronghold at nightfall, when the lights normally

  shone from the guard towers and the worrts in the pools around the

  palace croaked out in terrible song.

  The palace was dark, empty, and Tessek feared that he would be left

  stranded outside to die in the darkness.

  Yet as his swoop drew near, whining across the still-hot sand like some

  flying insect, Tessek noticed burning torches at the front gate.

  "I'd better alert them that Jabba's dead and I'm now in command."

  After he delivered his dire news, though, he fled the chaos to someplace

  dark, quiet, safe. He took the swoop around back to the motor pool. As

  he approached, the plasteel door slid open.

  Barada. Good, faithful Barada, Tessek thought. He glided into the

  motor pool, and immediately knew that something was wrong. At the very

  least, maintenance droids should have been working, lighting the bay

  with their glowing eyes.

  But the motor pool was silent, dark as a tomb. The doors slid closed

  behind him, and Tessek let himself drop from the swoop, too weary and

  ill to walk.

  "Barada? Barada? Bring me water, please . . ." he cried. Then he

  remembered. Barada was dead, killed on the sail barge. He wouldn't

  bring water, and it couldn't have been he who opened the doors.

  Tessek looked about the dark, empty rooms, wondering who had let him in.

  Tessek hated his body, his frail body that could not take the desert

  heat of Tatooine, that constantly threatened to blow away like sand. He

  cursed silently when no one answered his call.

  He crawled to a nearby sink in Barada's quarters, watered his skin and

  drank heartily, then staggered into the palace to tell the others that

  Jabba was dead.

  His news caused no small stir, and Tessek hurried to his upper rooms to

  pack water and food while he plotted how to remove as much of Jabba's

  wealth as possible.

  The corridors of the
palace were dark, cloistered, with all of Jabba's

  soldiers gone. In some ways, the place seemed darker, more sinister,

  than at any time when Jabba had reigned here.

  After he had thrown together his belongings, Tessek left his quarters,

  realizing with relief that he would never have to come back.

  He heard a snickety sound from the far wall of the corridor, and the

  clicking sound of an approaching droid as it scrabbled across the dark

  floor, its footsteps echoing dully.

  Tessek looked down the hall. A great black spider-like brain walker

  crawled toward him, twin lights shining like dull eyes in the darkness.

  Behind it marched another, and another--coming toward him through the

  hallways in all directions. The B'omarr monks.

  "Greetings, Acolyte Tessek," the first of the monks whispered.

  "Go away," Tessek pleaded, and in his' weakened state, he leaned his

  back against a wall and slid down, collapsing in fear and weariness.

  Then he heard the squeaking of the cart's wheels, and saw the laser

  scalpels neatly laid out upon it.

  Six months later, Tessek leftJabba's palace for the first time.

  He felt rested and secure as his spidery mechanical body climbed up to

  the highest turrets atop the towers with ease.

  There, Tessek sat out on a parapet, looked down at the evening suns

  setting crimson and purple above the yawning white desert. A gust of

  wind blew across the desert, raising a cloud of dust. Whether the wind

  was hot or cool, wet or dry, Tessek no longer cared.

  It was the first time in six months that he'd left his brain jar, using

  his newly developed powers to psychically will one of the mechanical

  bodies to himself.

  There was wealth still heaped below him in the palace, free for the

  taking, if anyone dared to enter. But after the first few meager

  attempts by cutthroats and thieves from Mos Eisley, volunteers for the

  job were somehow lacking.

  Tessek set his brains on the ledge of a wall, splayed his spider legs

  out wide. At one time, he would have been afraid of falling. At one

  time, he would have felt as if he were perched on the top of the world.

  But now, Tessek shut down his eyes and explored the world with his mind.

  Below him, in the deepest cells of Jabba's haunted palace, the newest

  B'omarr monks practiced their meditations.

  In the desert, the predators hunted those things that still had flesh on

  their bones. Jawas and the Sand People fought their battles and

  scrambled for water.

  In Mos Eisley, the Lady Valarian was bringing new style and class to the

  underworld. And in the heavens above, the Rebel Alliance still fought

  for what . . . ?

  Freedom.

  Tessek let his mind soar, far between the stars, lightly touching the

  minds of people he had once met and felt some kinship for. Luke, Leia,

  Han, the Wookiee.

  Simultaneously, each of the Alliance heroes suddenly had the same odd,

  compelling thought: If ever you return to Jabba's fortress, you will

  find a free Quarren in the palace.

  And one by one, each of the heroes shook their heads to clear the odd

  thought from their minds.

  As the suns dipped below the horizon, Tessek got up and trundled down a

  dark corridor that led to the lowest levels of Jabba's palace.

  There, among the nutrient-filled brain jars, he would find rest. · ·

  Tongue-tied: Bubo's Tale

  by Daryl F. MAllett

  Thheuwp.

  A long, prehensile tongue quietly snaked out from a warty mouth,

  slurping up forgotten. tidbits and dropped crumbs. But while the

  tongue was active, so were the bulbous purple eyes atop the green head.

  From the shadowy alcove where he crouched beneath the still-warm ovens,

  Bubo observed the goings-on in the kitchen.

  Throughout his long career as a spy and assassin, and in dozens of

  places not unlike this one, he had seen similar occurrences. Gartogg,

  one of the huge security guards, was questioning Ree-Yees. A body lay

  at their feet. A thrill of glee ran through Bubo's tongue, tickling the

  roof of his mouth, as he contemplated the Gamorrean guard clubbing the

  Gran over the head and hauling him off to the dungeons to await the

  Hutt's punishment.

  Bubo didn't like working with the Grannish operative.

  The three-eyed being was too unprofessional, too unbalanced, too

  emotional. He relied heavily upon other people rather than on his own

  abilities. And when he got nervous, he consumed large quantities of

  inebriants.

  And besides that, Ree-Yees just tasted wrong.

  Bubo's tongue curled in disgust as the three-eyed idiot managed to

  convince the dim-witted guard of his innocence.

  Someday, you'll get yours, he thought as he turned and shambled off into

  the ventilation shaft behind the ovens.

  As he made his way through the stone-and-metal shafts, all the while

  searching for a delicious Jawa or perhaps catching Salacious Crumb

  alone, he reflected on the current contract. While only a minor player

  this time, Bubo was concerned about being exposed by his colleague's

  seemingly endless ineptitudes. And the Hutt's rage was something to be

  feared.

  Bubo knew he was being used by Ree-Yees and several others. They, along

  with most of the universe, looked upon his kind as nothing more than

  drooling, mindless, bug-eating frog-dogs . . . a reputation which the

  species did nothing to correct. In reality, they were some of the most

  mentally competent beings in existence. At least Bubo thought so.

  Thus, when he had arrived on this sand-and-lizard-infested planet

  several years ago, Bubo had taken great delight in discovering the

  B'omarr monks encysted in this very citadel. It was to them he would

  turn now, as he did always, in his need for enlightenment.

  And if that failed, he had one last card to play to insure that Ree-Yees

  would take the fall.

  The air was cooler below ground level, and a hint of moisture tinged the

  air. Approaching footsteps caused Bubo to withdraw into the shadows and

  shield his mind. Because everyone thought him a dumb animal, he

  normally didn't need to hide; he could merely shamble along with no

  fear. But he identified the distinctively soft tread as Bib Fortuna's.

  Jabba's majordomo was always lurking in the lower depths of the palace,

  mining what information he could from the humanitarian B'omarr.

  And the Twi'lek's mental control was incredible. Not quite the level of

  the B'omarr or the Jedi, but enough to frighten Bubo into erecting

  shields. He knew the Twi'lek was up to something. He suspected Fortuna

  was blackmailing the monks into doing his bidding but, while he

  respected the monks, Bubo wanted no part of any of it.

  When the Hutt's chief lieutenant had passed, Bubo continued down the

  corridors, easily avoiding the many mechanical spiders containing the

  disembodied brains of the monks.

  He went directly to a small cavern off the beaten track and entered the

  darkness, feeling his way to the waiting area. A dim light slowly

  illuminated him as he sat down. After a few moments of waiting, another
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  shaft showed a large brain encased in a jar of nutrients.

  "Welcome, Buboicullaar." The brain used Bubo's formal name and spoke

  directly into his mind without flashing lights or sparkles, as Bubo had

  seen in several cheap holos. The deep, cheerful voice resonated

  throughout his body, reassuring and relaxing him.

  Greetings, Evilo Nailati, Bubo responded, a bit awed, as always, by the

  disembodied voice.

  What may I tell you, little one? asked the enlightened B'omarr.

  Bubo decided on a roundabout approach. How may I control my feelings

  and accomplish my task ?

  Killing Jabba, you mean?

  Bubo involuntarily let a mental gasp escape. So much for the roundabout

  approach. The monk's brain laughed as Bubo asked, You know?

  We live within a den of thieves, little one . . . The voice paused a

  moment. Why do you want this?

  Bubo croaked aloud in his own laughter7For the money, of course But what

  do you really want, Buboicullaar? I seek to learn. Unlike most of my

  brethren, I do not seek such abstract concepts as "truth" and

  "enlightenment." I am looking to amass as much information as I can;

  something I would be unable to do in my body, for it would die after

  less than a century. This way, I can remain alive for millennia,

  learning and growing mentally, and then be returned to a corporeal