Star Wars - The Han Solo Trilogy - Hutt Gambit, page 4
Knowing that Tagta meant Huttese, Hah nodded and said, in Basic, Yes, Lord Tagta, I understand it. I cannot speak it well, though.
The Hutt waved a plump little hand and blinked his bulbous eyes in surprise. That is much to your credit, then, Captain Solo. I understand your primitive Basic, so we will not require an interpreter to converse. He waved at the Wookiee. And your companion?
My friend and first mate does not speak the language of your exalted people, Lord Tagta, Hah said. He hated hav-ing to stick flattery into each sentence, but he was highly motivated to stay on this Hutts good side. When dealing with Hutts, that was generally the best policy-and Han didnt forget that he wanted this particular Hutt to do him a favor.
Very well, Captain Solo, Tagta said. Have you brought my ship, as you were hired to do?
Yes I have, Your Excellency, Han replied. It is docked in berth number thirty-eight, Starport Complex Q-7. Nar Hekka boasted a huge starport, since it was the main crossroads of trade into and out of the Hurt systems.
Excellent, Captain, Tagta said. You have done well.
He waved a dismissal. You have our leave to go.
Hah didnt budge. Uh, Lord Tagta, I am still owed half my payment.
Tagta reared back slightly in surprise. What? You came expecting payment from me?
Hah took a deep breath. One part of him wanted to just beat a quick retreat. Angering a powerful Hutt Lord proba-bly wasnt worth it. But he held his ground, forcing himself to remain outwardly calm. He had a feeling he was being tested. Yes, Your Excellency, I was promised the second half of the payment when I successfully delivered the ship to Nar Hekka having managed to avoid any Imperial ves-sels that might be interested in the ship . . . or its cargo. I was told that you would furnish the other half of my pay-ment when I saw you.
Tagta huffed indignantly. How dare you imply that I would make such a ridiculous bargain? Leave me immedi-ately, human!
Han was getting mad now. Crossing his arms on his chest, he planted his feet and shook his head. No way, Your Excellency. I know what I was promised. Pay up. You dare to demand payment of me?
When it comes to credits, I dare quite a lot of things, Han said imperturbably.
Hrrrrrmmmmmph! Tagta was full of disdain. This is your last chance, Corellian, he warned. Leave, or I will summon my guards!
You think me and Chewie cant handle a bunch of Gamorreans? Han said scornfully. Think again?
Tagta gazed at the Corellian balefully, but did not sum-mon the guards.
Listen, Your Excellency, you want me to tell every other pilot I meet that Tagta the Hutt welshes on his debts? Han added with a curl of his lip. Youll have a tough time gettin anyone to work for you, when Fm fin-ished.
The Hutt Ird rumbled deep in his chest, a sort of hrrrrrmmmmmmmmpppppphhhhhhh! sound that made Hans mouth go dry. Ha d he pushed his luck too far?
Seconds ticked by in Hans head as he waited, forcing himself to remain immobile and silent.
Then Tagta actually chuckled, a deep but unmistakable sound. Captain Solo, you are a brave sentient indeed! I admire courageF He fumbled amid the welter of items scattered among the squirming foodstuffs, and tossed Han a pouch. There, I believe the amount is correct.
The old villain] Hah thought half admiringly. He had it ready all the time/He WAS just testing me . . .
With the realization came a surge of confidence. Han bowed. Please accept our thanks, lord Tagta. And I wish to ask a favor, Your Excellency . . .
A favor? the Hutt boomed, blinking his bulbous eyes rapidly. You are indeed a bold sentient! What is this favor?
I understand that you know Lord Jiliac, sir?
The huge, slit-pupiled eyes blinked again. Yes, I do business with Jiliac. We belong to the same clan. What of it?
Well, I hear that theres work for good pilots to be had on Nar Shaddaa. And that Lord Jiliac owns or controls a lot of the Smugglers Moon. Im a good pilot, sir, I really am. If you could, Id appreciate a recommendation to Lord Jiliac. Chewie and I would like to work for him.
Ahhhhh . . . The deep voice boomed in the massive chest. I see. What shall I tell my clan lord? Shall I tell him that you are brazen and greedy, Captain Solo?
Han grinned, suddenly daring. He was learning that Hutts had a sense of humor-twisted, but definitely a sense of humor. If you think it would help, lord Tagta.
Ho-HO! the Hutt leader boomed a mighty shout of laughter. Well, let me tell you, Captain Solo, there are not many humans with the intelligence to claim those qualities as virtues. But among my people-they are, indeed, ster-ling attributes.
As you Say, sir, murmured tlan, not quite sure what to reply to this.
The Hurt lord bellowed, Scribe! in Huttese, and a bipedal droid came scuttling from behind the drapes in the cavernous room. Yes, Your Impressiveness?
Tagta waved a hand at the droid and gave it an order in Huttese so rapid that Hah had trouble following it. Some-thing about seals and messages.
Moments later the droid reappeared with a small, palm-sized holocube. After handing it to the Hurt, it stood back respectfully. Tagta took the little holocube, perused the message it contained, and grunted with satisfaction. Then, quite deliberately, the Hutt licked one side of it, leaving a green smear.
After holding the cube for a moment, Tagta activated the side of it, and a clear film slid down to cover the green-ish smear. Here, Captain Solo, the Hutt said, handing Han the holocube. By this lord Jiliac will know that I sent you. He is indeed in need of good pilots. Work hard for him, and you will be rewarded. We Hutts are known for our generosity and beneficence to lower life-forms who serve us ably.
Han took the cube rather gingerly, but it was no longer wet. He looked at the greenish smear, realizing that Jiliac would be able to do a sensor analysis and verify that the holocube had indeed come from his relative. Clever, even if it is disgusting, he thought.
He bowed deeply, and nudged Chewbacca, who also bowed. Thank you, Your Excellency!
Then, clutching his holocube, Han left the Hutt overlord behind. As they were walking down the ramp outside the Hutt mansion, Han insisted on divvying up the credits from the voyage. Just in case one of us gets robbed, he ex-plained, to quiet Chewbaccas protests. That way one of us is sure to have some money.
Once back out on the street, Han suggested that they get some food before heading to the shuttleport to catch the next ship for Nat Shaddaa. Stopping by a fiower-sellers booth, Han asked the proprietor, a spindly humanoid with long, wiry whiskers and tufted ears, whether there was a good restaurant in the vicinity. The sentient directed him to the Starfarer Diner, a few blocks away.
They were halfway there, strolling casually and chatting, when Han suddenly stopped in midsentence and swung around, alarmed-and not even sure why. Out of the cor-ner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a pale-skinned hu-manoid with two long fleshy tails instead of hair. The Twilek was just stepping out of a doorway behind him. There was a drawn blatster in his hand. As Han turned, the Twilek shouted, in accented but understandable Basic, Halt, both of you, or I shoot you now!
Hah knew instinctively that if he obeyed the command to stop, hed wind up dead, sooner or later. He didnt hesi-tate for even a second. With an earsplitting yell, the Corel-lian threw himself to the side, hit the ground, rolled, and came up on one knee, blaster in hand.
The Twileks weapon spat a blue-green burst. Han dodged.
Stun blast/
Han aimed, fired, and the reddish beam struck his at-tacker mid-torso. He went down, dead or incapacitated.
The Corellian made sure the Twilek wasnt getting up any-
time soon, then he turned to look for Chewbacca. The
Wookiee was leaning heavily against a parked speeder,
dazed. Hed evidently been grazed by the stun beam. Hah
ran over to him, his heart pounding from the rush of adren-
aline. Did he get you bad, palP
With a muffled growl, Chewbacca assured his partner that hed be fine. Han peered up into the Wookiees furry face, saw that his eyes were clear, the pupils even. Only then did he draw a long breath of relief. He hadnt realized until that moment that he was getting used to having the big hairy lug around. If anything had happened to Chewie . . .
Going over to the Twilek, Han knelt down. One glance at the huge blaster wound that had turned the Twileks chest to blackened slag was enough to tell him the being was dead. Han experienced a quick pang-hed killed be-fore, but he didnt like doing it.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to search the dead sentient. There was a vibroblade strapped to the inside of a sleeve, another on the calf. On the inside of the other wrist the Twilek wore a wrist vac, a device that when triggered would send small, deadly blades flying into an opponents vitals.
Shoved into his belt, covered by his tunic, was a sleep-inducer. A short-range weapon, but very effective. The Twilek could have simply walked up behind Han, stuck the sleep-inducer in his back, then pulled the trigger to send the Corellian off to dreamland.
Han stared at the weapon, his mouth dry. A bounty
hunter. Great. Why am I not surprised? This must be Ter-
oenzas doing. Hes found out Im alive, and he wants
If not for instinct and fast reflexes, Han knew, at this very moment hed be out cold and on his way back to Ylesia to face a terrible vengeance . . .
He heard Chewbaeea make an anxious sound, glanced up, only to find that the encounter had drawn a crowd.
Abandoning the Twilek where he lay, Han stood up, blaster still ostentatiously held in his right hand. The crowd backed away, muttering. The Corellian moved sideways with a dancers grace, never turning his back on the crowd, until he and Chewbacca were side by side. He knew some-one mustve summoned planetary security, but he also knew that since the Twilek was a bounty hunter, he was more or less outside planetary law. A bounty hunter was presumed able to take care of himself. If the intended prey fought back . . . well, tough luck.
Moving slowly, step by step, Hah and the Wookiee backed away from the crowd until they reached the closest alley. Then, moving like a single entity with one mind, they leaped sideways, and ran.
No one followed them.
Teroenza, High Priest and unofficial master of the steamy world of Ylesia, a world that produced drugs and slaves in impressive amounts, lounged in his sling-seat in his sumptuous apartments while his Zisian majordomo, Ganar Tos, massaged his massive shoulders.
The tlanda Til were enormous creatures, standing nearly as tall as a human male on their four tree-trnnklike legs. With their barrel-shaped bodies, tiny arms, and huge heads that somewhat resembled those of their distant cous-ins, the Hutts-except for the enormous horn protruding from the middle of their faces-the tlanda Til considered themselves the handsomest sentients in the galaxy. The vast majority of other sentients would not have agreed with their assessment.
Teroenza raised one of his small, almost dainty forearms, and used his fingers to smooth a soothing oil into his leath-ery skin. He rubbed gently around his bulbous eyes. The sun on Ylesia was frequently sheathed in clouds, but it had enough strength to cause his skin to dry out unless he took care of it. Frequent mud baths helped, as did this expensive emollient. He began rubbing the oil into his horn, remem-bering the last time hed been home, on Nal Hutta. Hed attracted a mate, Tilenrta, and theyd spent hours together, rubbing each other with oils . . .
The High Priest sighed. Doing his duty to his homeworld and the clan of Hutts his family served called for sacrifices. One of them was that only male priests were needed on Ylesia, to provide the Exultation, so no female tlanda Til were here. No mates, no potentid mates . . .
Harder, Ganar Tos, Teroenza murmured, in his own language. I have been working too hard these days. Too much work, too much stress. I must learn to slow down, relax more . . .
Teroenza glanced longingly at the huge door in his apartments that led next door, to his treasure collection. The High Priest was an avid collector of the rare, the un-usual, the beautiful. He bought and acquired rarities and art objects from all over the galaxy. His collection was his one pleasure on this steamy, backwater world that was populated mostly by slaves and inferiors.
It had taken him nearly four years to restore the collec-tion after that vile, despicable excuse for a sentient, Vykk Draygo, had ransacked the place and stolen many of the rarest and most valuable pieces. Several days ago Teroenza had discovered that Vykk Draygo was still alive. A check of the Devaronian Port Authority records had shown that the Corellian scoundrels real name was Hah Solo.
Remembering the terrible night when his collection had been violated, Teroenzas small hands clenched involun-tarily into fists, and his head lowered with the longing to impale a victim on his horn. Ganar Toss fingers dug into suddenly taut clumps of muscle, causing the tlanda Til to wince and curse in his own language. Solo had fired blasters in the treasure room, causing irreparable damage to some of Teroenzas finest pieces. The white jade fountain had been repaired by the best sculptor in the galaxy, but it would never be the same . . .
Teroenza was distracted from his memories when the front door to his apartments opened, and Kibbick the Hutt undulated in. The young Hutt was far from being old or corpulent enough to require an anti-gray sled-he got around fine under his own power, propelling himself for-ward in a series of glides by contracting his powerful lower body and tail muscles.
Teroenza knew he should rise from his lounge-sling, and greet his nominal master with deference, but he didnt. Kibbick was a young Hutt, barely past the age of full Hurt accountability, and he didnt want to be here on Ylesia. He was the nephew of the dead Zavval, Teroenzas former Hutt overseer. Zavvals sibling, the powerful Hutt clan leader, Lord Aruk, was his uncle.
The High Priest raised a hand and nodded politely enough, though. He certainly didnt want to alienate Kib-bick. Greetings, Your Excellency. How are you today?
The young Hutt glided up to the High Priest and then stopped. He was still young enough to be a uniform light tan in color, lacking the greenish pigmentation on the spine and down the tail that older, nonmobile Hutts frequently acquired. Since he was not fat, as Hutts went, Kibbicks eyes were not hidden in leathery folds of skin, but instead protruded slightly, giving him a rather pop-eyed, inquisitive air. Teroenza had good reason to know, however, that that wide-eyed, curious stare was misleading.
The nala-tree frogs you promised me, Kibbick began in Huttese. Lacking the huge chest of older Hutts, his words were deep, but not particularly resonant. The ship-ment hasnt arrived, Teroenza! I was particularly looking forward to a repast of nala-tree frogs tonight. He gave a theatrical sigh. There is so little to look forward to on this benighted world! Can you see about it, Teroenza?
The High Priest made soothing gestures with his tiny hands. Of course, Your Excellency. You shall have your nala-tree frogs, never fear. I do not relish them myself, but I know that Zavval did. I shall order an expedition of guards to collect some today.
Kibbick relaxed visibly. Thats much better, he said. Oh, and, Teroenza, I require a new bath slave. The old one hurt her back when she was lifting my tail to oil it, and I ordered her back to the factories. Her whimpering was getting on my nerves . . . and I have very delicate nerves, as you know.
Yes, Im aware of that, Teroenza said soothingly. In-wardly the High Priest gritted his bite-plates. I have to rennember that Kibbick, although a whining nuisance, al-lows me complete autonomy. If I must have a Hutt over-lord, he is the best choice . . . I shall see to it right away.
Privately, Teroenza knew that he could run the Ylesian spice and slave operation with no Hutt involvement. In the year following Zavvals untimely death at the hands of Han Solo, this had become clear to the High Priest. But the Besadii criminal enterprise, the kajidic, was ruled by a pow-erful old Hutt named Aruk, who clung to tradition. If a Besadii undertaking was to prosper, a Hutt from their own kin, the Besadii clan, must be in charge.
Thus, Teroenza found himself saddled with Kibbick. He repressed a sigh. It would not be wise to let his impatience show. Will there be anything else, Your Excellency? he asked, forcing himself to assume a servile, almost obsequi-ous demeanor.
Kibbick thought hard for a moment. Yes, come to think of it. I spoke with Uncle Aruk this morning, and he was checking last weeks accounts. He wanted to know what is this five-thousand-credit bounty youve placed on this hu-man, Hah Solo?
Teroenza rubbed his small, delicate hands together. In-form Lord Aruk that only a few days ago I discovered that Vykk Draygo, Zavvals murderer, whom we had presumed to be dead for the past five years, has resurfaced! His real name is Han Solo, and he was drummed out of the Impe-rial Navy just two months ago. Teroenzas protuberant eyes were suddenly moist and glittering with anticipation. By offering a sizable bounty and specifying no disintegra-tions, that will ensure that theyll bring this Hutt-slaying monster back here to Ylesia, so he may pay for his crimes.
I see, Kibbick said. I shall explain that to Aruk, but I dont believe hell go along with paying the extra credits for a no disintegrations bounty. Thats not necessary, under the circumstances, really. Simple proof that its indeed Solos body-genetic material, for example-would suffice, wouldnt it?
Teroenza lurched up out of his lounge-sling with an awk-ward, fierce movement. He began to pace his spacious, sumptuous apartment, his long, whippy tail slashing the air. You fail to understand the nature of Solos crime, Your Excellency! If only you had been here, to see what Solo did to your uncle! His death agonies were horrible! His moans! His spasms of agony! And all because of that wretched little human!
The High Priest took a deep breath, realizing he was shaking with anger. An example must be made, an exam-ple that will be remembered down through the ages by anyone of an inferior species who even contemplates harm-ing a Hutt! Solo must die, die in agony, die screaming for mercy!
Teroenza halted in the middle of his room, panting with fury, little hands balled into fists. Ask Ganar Tos! he cried passionately, knowing he was making a spectacle of himself in front of Kibbick, but unable to stop. Ask him about Solos audacity, his arrogance! He deserves to die, doesnt he?
