“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 Ortugg’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!” Ortugg 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 Fortuna lasted only a few seconds. Then Jabba’s majordomo 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 gaffi-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, and 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 bar 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 turned 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 Lady’s attempts at getting a gambling license, so these days it wasn’t much but a dining room, deserted at that hour.
Once it had been a classy place with a holographic star display on the ceiling and exotic fish in porthole aquariums on the outside walls. But the display was shut down and most of the tanks were lifeless now, and the empty tables with their threadbare tablecloths looked pretty forlorn in the half-light.
I went through the door in one wall and into a little office. Venutton, Valarian’s scrawny and strung-tight human assistant, ushered me right on through into her office.
It was a stark place. No useless decoration for that Lady. The boss herself sat behind a big desk in the room’s center.
Lady Valarian was a pretty young Whiphid—hell, a pretty young anything!—to be running so big an operation. But when you saw her, you weren’t surprised. Her presence was considerable. Her massive bulk filled up the chair, dominating the room. Her tusked face and glaring gaze were fierce.
Yeah, she had a pretty big face, maybe a little like mine. Maybe it’s why she’d taken kind of a shine to me. But her big interest was in my connections.
“Well, Lady V,” I greeted. “How’s it going?”
“Lousy, as usual,” she said in a deep growl of a voice. “Look, let’s neither of us waste time in pleasantries. Have you thought any more?”
“There wasn’t a need to,” I said flatly. “You know what I think.”
“I can’t believe you can stay loyal to that rotting pile of fodder after what I’ve offered you!”
“Sorry. That’s how it is.”
“I’ll tell you how it is!” she snarled, rising. She moved out toward me, body taut with anger. “The Hutt blocks me at every move. He wrecks my operation with sabotage, sics the law hounds on me, steals my business, sucks me dry with payoffs.” She came up almost toe to toe with me, meeting my eye threateningly. Since she’s as tall as me and a lot bigger built, she made a pretty good threat. “So here I’ve got a chance at getting someone on my side, and he turns me down. I don’t like that, Mon!”
I stood my ground and answered coolly: “I was hoping not to fight you, Valarian. I thought we were friends.”
Seeing I couldn’t be intimidated, she sighed and stepped back, dropping the tough act.
“Okay, you’re right,” she said resignedly. “I won’t try muscling you. But look,” she tried more reasonably, “he will fall soon. You can’t deny that. If not from my pushing, then from someone else’s.”
“Don’t you think I know?” I told her. “I’ve alrea
dy got an idea Tessek’s up to something, with Ree-Yees and a few others helping, too. And I’m pretty sure Talmont’s been cut in on the deal. I try to warn Jabba of plots when I find ’em, but I can’t find them all.”
“Then why not leave him?” she cajoled, putting a hand on my shoulder. “We could have a beautiful deal together, you and I. We’re alike, aren’t we? Both fighting our way up from nothing.”
“Maybe for you it was nothing,” I answered. “For me it was different.” Somehow her words had pulled up a memory again and I was seeing the sunlit, wide grasslands of a planet far away. “It was something all right. I had something. Simple maybe, but clean, open, and honest. Funny, but I haven’t thought about it for a lot of years. But, twice today—”
“What?” she asked, dropping her hand and stepping back to eye me questioningly.
Realizing I’d slipped off into a weird reverie, I jerked myself back. “Oh … nothing,” I said sharply. “But look, please just believe me, Valarian. There’s a knot tying me to Jabba that no money or promises are gonna cut.”
She looked hard into my eyes and nodded acceptance. “Okay.” She smiled. “I should call you my enemy, but I can’t. No hard feelings.”
I smiled, too. “None. Well, I’d better get back now. Been gone an hour already.” I turned to the door.
“Just remember,” she called to me as I went out, “if you do survive the fall, you can still come work for me.”
When I went back through the lobby, the dead-meat squad was coming in to scrape up the stiffs. Talmont was there, and his squinty gaze followed me out. He was worried now.
Both suns were high in the sky when I got back to the palace. I came into the throne room to find the place in an uproar. Seemed I’d missed quite a party!
I’d already gotten part of the story from Barada in the garage. All about how that guy in black had been in cahoots with that other bunch out to rescue Han Solo. How he’d claimed to be a Jedi named Skywalker and had threatened the Hutt with being destroyed. How he’d killed Malakili’s pet rancor in the pit. And how he was now cooling his heels in the dungeon along with Solo and that Wookiee we’d caught before. Soon they would all climb aboard the sail barge and head out for the Great Pit of Carkoon.
Star Wars: Tales from Jabba's Palace Page 15