Star Wars: Tales from Jabba's Palace

by Kevin J. Anderson

“Sure you haven’t,” Melina said grimly. “You haven’t infiltrated here under false pretenses. Or lied about who and what you are. Or conspired with the Lady Valarian to assassinate Jabba.” She jabbed the blaster muzzle again into Mara’s back. “Have you?”

  Mara blinked. An assassination plot? Here? And without her even noticing? That wasn’t just sloppy, that was embarrassing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she protested, trying one last time. “I have nothing against Jabba. Really.”

  “Sure you haven’t. You just wanted that guard’s blaster as a souvenir.” Melina jabbed again. “In here.”

  It was another tunnel, this one slanting sharply downward before leveling out and bending away out of sight. Loitering just inside the tunnel entrance were a pair of Gamorrean guards, leaning casually on their force pikes and grunting quietly to each other. “What in blazes are you two doing here?” Melina snarled at them. “Straighten up. Now.”

  Slowly, obviously bewildered as to why a lowly dance designer should be giving them orders, they pulled themselves a little more upright. “That’s better,” Melina growled. “But just marginally. Who do you think you are anyway, the Imperial Royal Guard? Get off your rears and take this woman down to the dungeons for me.”

  She gave Mara a shove toward them. “Get going. Be a good girl and maybe I’ll ask Jabba to let you die quickly.”

  “I appreciate it,” Mara said, looking back over her shoulder. She still couldn’t safely snatch the blaster from Melina’s grip. But what she could do …

  Reaching out with the Force, she gave the muzzle a sharp twist to the right. There was a flash as Melina reflexively fired, the blast sounding twice as loud as usual in the confines of the tunnel.

  It was followed by a grunt of pain and rage from the Gamorrean Melina had just shot. The other Gamorrean grunted, too, and the two of them lowered their force pikes and lumbered toward this human who had unreasonably attacked them.

  Melina’s expression at what she’d just done was priceless, but Mara didn’t have time to enjoy it. With her captor’s attention distracted, now was the time to act. Ducking between the Gamorreans, she sprinted down the tunnel.

  “Stop her!” Melina shouted. But the guards paid no attention. A pair of quick shots lit up the tunnel, scattering rock chips and spurts of dust.

  And then it was just the grunts of the slug-brained Gamorreans and Melina’s angry and increasingly frantic shouts. Mara kept running, hoping she could get out of the line of fire before they got things straightened out up there. Near the bottom of the tunnel came her first opportunity: a curved and highly odoriferous cross tunnel that branched off to the left. Throwing a last glance back at the noisy confrontation, she ducked down it.

  It was short—no more than twenty meters—and was almost a dead end. Almost. At the end was a rock wall with a half-meter-square ventilation grating cut into it, a grating that was literally shaking with the growls of something behind it. Cautiously, she stepped up to it and looked in.

  The roaring was coming from probably the largest and ugliest biped creature she’d ever seen. A creature which, judging from the number of bones lying around the stinking filth of the pit, was both carnivorous and ravenous.

  And which at the moment seemed intent on making a snack out of Luke Skywalker.

  Pressing her face against the grating, the stench forgotten, Mara watched as Skywalker scrambled out from beneath a small ledge and dashed between the creature’s legs toward a tunnel-shaped area of the pit she couldn’t see into from her angle. This was perfect. The creature would make short work of Skywalker, in front of the dozens of witnesses she could hear cheering it on, and without a single link Vader could backtrack to either her or the Emperor. And if for some reason the creature needed help, well, she was right here to give it.

  The creature had turned around now and was thudding its way in pursuit. Skywalker himself was out of sight, but from the noise coming from that direction she could tell that Jabba’s people were blocking his escape. It should be over quickly.

  And then, without warning, something small came flying through the air right at the edge of her vision, slamming into a control panel set into the stone wall. There was a flash of sparks—the creak of released machinery—

  And a heavy, serrated-bottom door dropped out of the ceiling, catching the creature across the back of its massive neck and driving it to the floor. It growled one last whimper and lay still.

  Mara stared at the hulk, not believing it. Skywalker had killed it. Alone, unarmed, he’d actually killed it.

  And judging from the tone of the Huttese words rumbling down through the stunned silence from above, Jabba wasn’t at all happy about it.

  Mara took a deep breath of the fetid air. All right. Fine. So the creature hadn’t killed Skywalker; but now Jabba would. Probably viciously too, if even half the stories about the Hutt were true. Served Skywalker right. He had to have been grossly stupid and grossly overconfident both to have come here alone and unarmed this way—

  The stinking air seemed to freeze in her throat, two mental images abruptly superimposing themselves on the scene in front of her. Skywalker running away from the creature; Skywalker delivering his holo message to Jabba.

  His new lightsaber. He hadn’t brought it with him.

  Or rather, he hadn’t brought it himself.

  The Wookiee didn’t have it—he would have nowhere to hide it. The protocol droid didn’t have it. Leia Organa certainly didn’t have it.

  The astromech droid.

  She cursed under her breath. No, it wasn’t Skywalker who was being overconfident. It was Jabba. And suddenly this whole thing was up to her again. Stepping back from the grating, she looked for some kind of opening mechanism—

  Her danger sense triggered a split second before she heard the 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 at Jabba’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 great Jabba the Hutt says you are to leave him now,” the protocol droid said, still gazing forlornly after the departing skiff. “He says a landspeeder 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 Skywalker’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 landspeeder 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. Ortugg 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 Ortugg. “You never have.”

  “Audience chamber?” Gartogg asked hopefully.

  “No! Return to your patrol!”

  Stung, Gartogg watched in disappointment as Ortugg 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.