Star Wars: Darksaber

by Kevin J. Anderson

  “We can’t be sure quite what a Hutt means by hospitality,” Han said quietly. “As I recall, I’ve experienced a little of it myself.”

  Korrda made a hissing, sizzling sound that Leia identified as a strained laugh. “Ah yes, Han Solo—I am aware of your dealings with the defeated Jabba, may his name be spoken with scorn. He is a worthless worm. No Hutt respects the memory of one whose empire has fallen. You will be pleased to note that the Hutts have lifted the bounty on both of you as an initial overture of peace.”

  “How very … heartening,” Leia said with an acid-sweet smile. “Now, should we climb aboard that sailbarge, or were you planning to keep us standing here, shouting at each other in the rain all day?”

  “Ah, certainly!” Korrda reared back, gesturing with his sinewy hands as a wide ramp extended to the ground.

  They climbed up the ramp onto the barge. Their stoic-looking New Republic escorts remained as stony-faced as the sailbarge guards. Korrda did his best to be obsequious, and simpered as the sailbarge raised itself up, drifting away from the spaceport and across the open spaces toward the palace.

  Spiders and gnats swarmed around the spiky grasses below. Roughly circular, shallow pools dotted the landscape, covered with a greenish scum. Overhead in the thin rain, flocks of large, clumsy birds squawked as they flew along, chased by rowdy henchmen on swoops who shot them with long-range blaster rifles. Smoking bird carcasses tumbled out of the sky and plopped into the bog.

  Durga’s palace rose taller as they approached, a nightmare of towers and crenelations with large jawed gates—plus an underground network of dungeons so vast it had achieved galactic renown.

  “Ah, I don’t know how long it will take for Durga to return,” Korrda said as the sailbarge docked in the cavernous hangar bay, “but since I’m responsible for amusing you, would you like a tour of our dungeon levels? You’ll find them most fascinating.”

  “No dungeons,” Leia said. “Thanks anyway.”

  “Not interested,” Han concurred. “We’ve seen enough dungeons to last us for the next century or so.”

  “Oh,” Korrda said, obviously disappointed and at a loss for what to do as a backup plan.

  Leia had been unable to sense anything from the opaque mind of Durga the Hutt. Korrda was much weaker, but all she could sense was flustered uncertainty and a nervous frustration, no deception. Korrda honestly didn’t know what was going on, but he was afraid his neck was on the line.

  Leia’s Jedi powers also brought her many bad impressions from the palace itself, lingering echoes of pain and imprisonment, thoughts of murder and betrayal that seemed to ooze from the stones. It overwhelmed her, and she quickly shut her senses down again.

  “Ah, perhaps we should dine instead,” Korrda suggested. “We always have freshly slaughtered meats and succulent delicacies. There will be other members of Durga’s family in attendance. It might be good to meet them.”

  “That would be acceptable,” Leia said, inclining her head in a regal nod.

  Han muttered, “I don’t know … having dinner with a bunch of Hutts doesn’t sound much more pleasant than touring torture chambers.”

  Inside the dining hall, carrion birds sat perched on stone lintels, glaring down to spot any morsel dropped to the flagstones, ready to swoop and capture any portion of the meal that attempted to escape before it could be shoveled into a cavernous Hutt mouth.

  The other guests, Durga’s adolescent cousins, were like wide-mouthed eels, lean and muscular, some already beginning to build up layers of flab in preparation for midlife obesity. Their thick lips contorted and their yellow eyes darted around—but these Hutts were obviously healthy, while Korrda was emaciated by some sort of sickness. The whiplike Huttlings were boisterous and insulting, barely able to speak a coherent sentence in Basic and uninterested in the work of Durga.

  Korrda played the servitor, bringing dishes of gelatinous food: stewed insects; parasites drizzled with warm honey; and roasted grain maggots, most of which lay in crispy husks on their plates, while others still squirmed about in a struggle to survive.

  Leia did her best to be appreciative, though neither she nor Han found they had much of an appetite. She pushed the food around on her dish, enduring the meal as best she could. Han did the same beside her, the cords in his neck tightening as he clenched his jaw. Only Threepio was not at a loss for words, attempting to decipher the origin of the meal’s components.

  Korrda suffered more than Han and Leia, however. The larval Hutts proved excessively rude, slapping him whenever he came within reach. Korrda did not eat from a plate of his own, but scraped leftovers from discarded dishes into his mouth. He looked at Han and Leia with the utmost gratitude, perhaps believing they had not eaten their meals so that he could wolf down the untouched food.

  “Excuse me,” Leia said in a low voice when Korrda came to gather their dishes, “why don’t you sit and eat with us, since you are Durga’s designated assistant?”

  “No, I am his lowliest servant,” Korrda said. “Look at me.” He gestured to his ribbon-thin body and sickly skin. “I deserve only slop. I am despised because I have a rare wasting disease. As an underweight Hutt, I am the target of all scorn. How could anyone respect such a wasted and worthless worm as I?”

  “Why does Durga keep you around then?” Han asked. “You seem to be in an important position while he’s gone.”

  “Ah, Durga detests me,” Korrda said, blinking bloodshot eyes and bobbing his narrow head. “He keeps me because I am so despicable. He shames me by placing me in situations where I must appear to be important, though it is obvious to anyone with eyes that I am worthless. This makes me feel even more downtrodden—which keeps Durga happy, and therefore, I am content.” Leia’s mind spun with the tangled logic, but she didn’t try to argue.

  From their perches, the carrion birds watched Korrda himself, as if he might be their next meal. The creatures squawked as a large lumpy worrt, a long-tongued froglike creature, hopped into the dining hall from one of the outer corridors. Frills stood up around its eyes, and it bobbed obediently as it sat waiting, clasping a message placard in its wide toothless mouth.

  Korrda rushed over to snatch the placard from the creature, then patted its warty head as he scanned the message on the screen. He reared up in delight, his mottled skin growing darker. “Ah, good news indeed!” he said. “My master, Lord Durga, is on his way and should be here shortly. He insists that I show you the pleasure of his private bathhouses while you wait. I’m sure you’ll find them most enjoyable.”

  The concept of a Hutt bathhouse made Leia’s stomach churn, but she forced a smile. Han raised an eyebrow skeptically, and clasped her hand under the table. “It’s for the New Republic,” she said in a martyred tone.

  Korrda beamed with pride as he gestured at the enclosed labyrinth beneath the palace, holding acres and acres of sluggish, steaming water. The walls were covered with mold and bulbous fungus. Dim light filtered from narrow slits in the walls, giving everything a grainy, tarnished appearance.

  “This bathhouse is Lord Durga’s pride and joy,” Korrda said.

  “Doesn’t surprise me a bit,” Han murmured, trying to sound polite.

  The maze of canals was an underground catacomb with vaulted ceilings and algae-covered support pillars dipping into the shallow water. Things splashed and swam in the twisted channels, lost in the faint mist.

  “This fresh water is pumped in directly from the bogs,” Korrda said, as if confiding a great trade secret. “Lumps and all.”

  The canals bubbled, and hairy green weed drifted along the top. Leia hugged herself in the clinging robe Korrda had provided for her. “You expect us to swim in this?” she said.

  “Oh, no!” Korrda flinched backward in horror, whipping his sinuous spine back and forth. “These canals are for Lord Durga and other Hutts. We could not allow a … human to pollute the water.”

  “We certainly wouldn’t want to offend Durga,” Han said with relief.

&nb
sp; “Ah, no—we have a species-segregated section for some of our honored visitors. I’m sorry we cannot be fully accommodating; this section, alas, has only pure water, with none of the special additives that give Hutt skin such a pleasurable texture.” Korrda led them to a warm, crystal-clear pool with rough stone steps leading down into it so they could immerse themselves to shoulder level in the bubbling water.

  “This will do just fine, thank you,” Leia said, her gratitude genuine.

  “As long as we’ve checked it for traps,” Han suggested.

  “Oh, indeed, sir. I have been most vigilant throughout this entire mission,” Threepio said. “And I detect no treachery here. I assure you, you may bathe without fear. I’ll remain on guard.”

  “Oh good,” Han said sarcastically, “then I can relax.”

  Leia slowly lowered herself into the warm, fizzy water and sighed as the liquid heat swirled around her aching joints. “In spite of myself, I might enjoy this,” she said.

  “Please relax,” Korrda said. “I must attend to my Lord Durga’s arrival.”

  “You go right ahead,” Han said, waving in dismissal. “Threepio will be here to stand guard, and our New Republic escort is just out in the corridor.”

  As Korrda slithered away, Han and Leia sank into the pool, listening to the simmering sounds of other creatures moving in the canals reserved for Hutt bathing. The labyrinth was so vast that they could feel alone in their little corner, although numerous Hutt visitors and the reckless Huttlings swam in other sections.

  “Should we talk?” Han whispered.

  Leia slipped an arm around his waist. “No,” she said. “We have nothing important to discuss at the moment, and there’s no telling whether Durga’s listening in. Let’s just enjoy a moment of relaxation—for a change.”

  Leia grew drowsy, though she remained on guard, half-watching the canals filled with sludgy bog water. Gradually she became aware of ripples stirring the hairy green seaweed; something large moved beneath the surface, easing toward them. She sat up straighter, stiffening.

  “Oh, dear,” Threepio cried. “I do believe something’s approaching.” He pointed with a golden hand just as a large bulk heaved itself out of the bog water near the canal divider opposite Han and Leia.

  The sloping mound, dripping with water and seaweed, blinked two huge copper-red eyes. “Hoo-hoo-hoo,” a Hutt voice boomed. “Welcome, Leia Organa Solo. I am pleased to see you again so soon.”

  Leia recoiled, but managed to mask her shock. She sat back in the pool, maintaining her cool diplomatic composure as she recognized the dark birthmark on the Hutt’s wet face. “Lord Durga, welcome home.”

  “Your visit comes as such a surprise,” Durga said, heaving himself higher so that the seaweed sloughed off his sloping head and dripped back into the steaming canals. “I did not expect you to come so soon. Does this mean you are anxious now to form an alliance with the Hutt syndicate?”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” Han said.

  “Let me handle this, Han.” Leia squeezed his arm. “Our visit is a gesture of good faith on our part, Lord Durga. I’m sure you know how quickly the New Republic can work, once it has made a decision.” Han snorted beside her, because she had complained so often about how interminably long even simple processes took. Durga wouldn’t know that, however, “If we decide that an agreement with the Hutts is advisable, you can bet we’ll move quickly,” she said in as businesslike a tone as she could muster. “No sense postponing profit.”

  Durga, though, seemed surprised and uneasy. “We need not rush a decision as important as this,” he said. “We must take great pains to ensure that all are satisfied with our alliance.”

  Leia pursed her lips. “I see,” she said, realizing that Durga was just stalling to keep them off balance. His initial overture to her on Coruscant had merely been a ruse to gain access to the Imperial Information Center for the Death Star plans. It was clear now that he didn’t want an agreement; he just wanted to keep them chasing false leads while the Hutt superweapon was under construction. Leia was determined to learn the site of the secret project and how far along they had managed to get.

  “I noticed your battle fleet near our system, Madam President,” Durga continued. “I can’t help but express my concern—”

  Leia raised her hand out of the water with a splash, and trickles ran down her wrist. “Oh, don’t worry, they’re just engaged in routine military exercises. They could train anywhere, I suppose, but they wanted to accompany me. You know how overprotective bodyguards can get.” She sighed. “Nothing to be concerned about—we’re going to be allies, remember? If we can work out a deal, of course. I wouldn’t let a little thing like a few warships engaged in simulated combat bother you.”

  Durga chuckled again and raised his stubby hands out of the bog water. “Bother me? No, you misunderstand. I merely thought there must be some crucial political brushfires on recalcitrant worlds in your New Republic. I’m surprised you have excess warships that can be wasted on games.”

  “We haven’t had any problems with the Empire at large for a couple of years,” Leia said. “Even so, our fleet needs to keep in practice.”

  Durga widened his eyes and laughed. “Hoo, the Empire may be doing more than you think.” His voice boomed in the enclosed catacombs. “To show you my good intentions, let me offer you a service, something for which the Hutts are justly famous.”

  “And what is that?” Leia asked, not particularly interested.

  “Our network has many good sources of information—certain data that could be valuable to your New Republic. While you’re here on Nal Hutta, allow me to offer you the services of one of my information brokers. I’ll instruct him to check up on what the Empire has been up to recently. I think you may be surprised.”

  Han grew suddenly tense and alert beside Leia; under the water his hands clenched into fists. Although she assumed the entire offer was merely another diversion, a ploy to distract them from other lines of inquiry, Leia clasped one of Han’s hands and nodded. “I gratefully accept your offer, Lord Durga. The galaxy functions on the basis of accurate intelligence.”

  She stood up, dripping in the water. “For now, though, I think I’ve been in the bath too long,” Leia said.

  Threepio bustled off to get towels.

  CHAPTER 25

  As night fell outside the opulent palace of Durga the Hutt, the other inhabitants of the bog planet went about their desperate lives. Disguised in tatters, with dirt and weariness smeared across his bearded face—just like any other downtrodden victim of Nal Hutta—General Crix Madine slipped through the gathering gloom with his destination firmly in mind.

  With liquid movements he had developed during years of covert operations, Madine worked his way through the dim streets between rundown prefab shacks in a squatters’ village. Locked-down warehouses shone like military bunkers under the wan moonlight and harsh security beams around the heavily guarded spaceport.

  Distribution centers busily processed the raw materials torn from Nal Hutta’s surface and shipped the supplies to the moon Nar Shaddaa. Madine watched chains of light, the trails of regular supply ships, lifting through the cloud-strewn skies to the Smugglers’ Moon and returning with cargo holds filled with black-market goods that were purchased and laundered on the moon itself.

  The Hutt race had the habit of usurping a world, then using it up, squeezing it dry of resources and polluting the environment. When they eventually destroyed their stolen home planet, the Hutts would move someplace else—and their crime empire was currently in the process of digesting Nal Hutta.

  Slum entertainment centers stood on rickety durasteel stilts in the glimmering wet marshland. The entertainment complex seemed like an afterthought to provide hopeless amusement for those trapped on Nal Hutta. Even from a distance Madine could hear the loud music and louder screams.

  On the other side of the spaceport Durga’s palace was lit up with blue-white spotlights that played across its outer w
alls. The structure rose like a giant ivory edifice, towering and aloof in the midst of the other inhabitants.

  Carrying a partially concealed glowlantern, Madine made his way to the wire-mesh fence that blocked access to the spaceport landing field. Under the security lights Durga’s private ship rested, a custom-designed hyperspace yacht, long and vermiform, its smooth iron gray hull adorned with fins and stabilizers for atmospheric travel.

  As he crept to the barrier Madine saw other furtive figures huddling near the fence, staring longingly at the ships parked there, tantalizing reminders of a way to escape this world … but all the strangers ran away when Madine approached. He wished he could call after them, offer them some hope, promise to rescue them when all this was over—but he could not.

  He reached the fence and held the thin, unbreakable wires like any other dejected dreamer. Armed Weequay guards stood in a tight perimeter around Durga’s ship; their wrinkled, leathery faces were stony, and they waited like unflinching statues. Madine knew the Weequays were not terribly intelligent, but they were loyal and vicious—there would be no chance to get close to the ship. But he didn’t need to.

  Madine squatted at the base of the fence and pulled the glowlantern from the billows of his ragged cloak. He found the hidden catch and opened the compartment behind the lantern. Madine reached inside and withdrew the small fluttering creature, a moon moth with powder-blue gossamer wings that beat gently as it tried to fly.

  “Not yet,” Madine said. “Pause.”

  The moth froze in midmotion. Other nocturnal insects buzzed around the brilliant security lights guarding the spaceport landing pad. This moth was a perfect replica of a common insect, crafted by Mechis III’s finest droid specialists. The moth machine had limited computer memory—but it knew to follow commands, and it knew its own mission.

  Madine held the moth in the palm of his hand and pointed it toward Durga’s well-lit hyperspace yacht. “Acquire target,” he said. The moth’s antennae gyrated and its wings trembled in affirmation. Madine waited just a moment to make sure, then he commanded, “Launch!”