Star Wars: Scourge (6 page)

This one’s head seemed to be narrower and taller than most as well, looking more like a spear point than a flattened triangle. She continued, speaking in the sibilant tongue of Huttese.

“And you are the previous Jedi’s replacement in the negotiations?” translated the droid, an H-series 3PO unit. The Hutt’s lackadaisical manner indicated that she didn’t care if he was or not.

“I was his teacher,” said Mander. “And I came to finish the task he was assigned.”

The factotum punched a few toggles on her pad, then adjusted her data goggles up over her eyes. The goggles’ oversized lenses made her eyes look huge, even for a Hutt. Surprisingly, the next time she spoke, it was in Basic, albeit in a halting fashion that communicated nothing so much as distaste for doing so, as if the words were bitter in her mouth. “I am Vago Gejalli. I am mighty Popara’s … chief adviser, majordomo, and factotum. Benevolent Popara is … very busy, so most of your dealing will be with me. Treat me with the respect … that wise Popara has earned.”

“Of course,” said Mander, and the Hutt turned and slithered toward the shuttle. Mander turned to the others, and was struck by the scowls they both wore.

“You can still stay behind,” he suggested.

“I would not miss this for all the spice on Ryloth,” said Reen.

“Just remember, let me do the talking,” Mander said. “Later I will ask about your impressions.”

They boarded the ship, and Mander watched the jade-green 3PO unit organizing the stowage of supplies: rantweed clusters, pickled zog, norrick loaves, and many kegs of Kashyyyk ale. The last was interesting, even in the larder of a Hutt epicure.

The shuttle lifted off smoothly from the spaceport, the ship helmed by a team of Gluss’sa’Nikto. The Pale Nikto spoke to one another in a low, atonal language but reported to Vago in Huttese. Mander did not doubt for a moment that the factotum was fluent in Nikto as well as in Basic, and did not doubt that she would rather sprain
her tongue than speak it. The Hutt settled herself onto a great cushion along the back wall of the ship and busied herself with her datapad and goggles. It was as if Mander Zuma and his entourage had ceased to exist, having no more importance than the ale kegs.

Mander watched the sprawl of the Tract, the unlimited graveyard of Maken Te, extend out to the horizon as the shuttle rose. To Vago he said, “We appreciate benevolent Popara’s willingness to continue negotiations in this matter even after Toro Irana’s passing.”

Vago responded without looking up from her pad, the droid translating. “You may thank efficient and diligent Vago for that kindness. Most of the negotiations were through her offices. The previous Jedi was fairly effective, and the offer tendered through him remains sufficient, regardless of who offers it.”

Reen looked at the Hutt. “Then you knew my … I mean, you knew the previous Jedi.”

Vago looked up at Reen and blinked, her eyes magnified beneath the data goggles. She looked at Mander as if expecting him to cuff an insolent subordinate for speaking out of turn. When the older Jedi did not, she huffed and muttered a reply in Huttese, the droid translating.

“He dealt through our agents, and I believe he met both of Popara’s spawn at one time or another. He never met gentle and wise Popara, if that is what you are getting at. He was fairly effective, as I said.” She then returned to whatever she had on her datapad, the Pale Nikto crew droning in their native languages as the ground dropped away beneath them. Eddey remained quiet, taking everything in. Reen and Mander watched the sky darken beyond the viewports and the tomb-dotted horizon turn into a planetary curve.

There was a sparkle about the edge of the curve, which grew as they approached from a solitary pip of light into
the dagger-shape of an Ubrikkian space yacht. The long, tapered bow cut like a knife blade among the stars, and the navigation spars bracketed the four rear engines. This was an air-breathing craft, and could land on a planet, should Popara Anjiliac ever deign to put common dirt beneath his belly. Even so, the ship was buffed to a reflective brilliance.

Mander did not doubt that there were at least half a dozen turbo-blasters concealed along the length of the bow, and that the shuttle was being tracked in the yacht’s crosshairs as they approached.

Vago snapped off her datapad and readjusted her goggles.
“Imru Ootmian,”
she said, then translated in Basic: “The
Wandering Outlander
.” Then she barked an order in Huttese and the shuttle nestled itself at the belly of the yacht. The hissing of seals confirmed the docking, and Vago led the group to the lift tube, the green droid fussing among the Pale Nikto behind them, readying the cargo for transfer.

The lift tube itself was opulent, with mirrored walls, mosaic crystal floors, and door irises made of muskwood. Vago seemed supremely disinterested in both her surroundings and her companions. The door hissed to a stop and spiraled open.

The hatch revealed the hulking form of a Wookiee, who pushed his way into the tube without waiting for the others to depart. Reen and Mander stepped back, but Eddey held his ground, and the Wookiee was brought up short, towering over the smaller Bothan. The two locked eyes, and for that long moment it looked like the Wookiee would attack. Mander could smell the alcohol on the Wookiee’s breath, and realized that this was why they were bringing on more ale from Kashyyyk. Finally, the Bothan stepped away and let the Wookiee shamble in, away from the Hutt. For her part, Vago slipped past
the drunken Wookiee and shepherded the others down the hall.

“One of young Zonnos’s companions,” she said, without further explanation, biting off the words in Huttese. “There will be others on board.”

The end of the hallway was another great door of muskwood, this one with settings of silver. Another green 3PO unit, this one a bit more dented and battered, stood by the door. Apparently, thought Mander, it hadn’t gotten out of the Wookiee’s way in time.

“Announce us,” Vago said in Huttese, and the protocol droid snapped to attention and hand-palmed the lock, the hatch irising silently outward. In Basic, the droid crackled, “His most mighty and powerful lord, his most wise and generous master, his most understanding and thoughtful leader, Popara Anjiliac, Popara the Hutt.”

The room was dark in the manner that Hutts preferred, and wafted with the smells of smoke and slightly spoiled meat. The room itself was Hutt-sized, with three great alcoves along the other walls. All three were sumptuously furnished with rich tapestries and thick cushions. Mander noted briefly that the one on their left was empty, but the one on their right held a large young Hutt laughing with a trio of Wookiees. Empty kegs and used hokuum pipes were scattered about. But he had scant time to take that in, for Popara the Hutt occupied the central alcove.

Mander knew that Popara was old—nine centuries if the data disks had been correct—and had the wiliness of one who’d had to fight to survive every year. Hutts grew continuously throughout their entire lives, and Popara was enormous, his flesh marked with gray patches and old whitened scars of earlier conflicts. His eyes, though, were as brilliant as a morning on Yavin 4. Three green-hued Twi’lek females in long, diaphanous robes dabbed him with perfumed sponges, and one of them broke
from her ministries as the massive Hutt let out a low, almost animal growl.

“Chowbaso, Jeedai,”
said the old Hutt, and the floor itself vibrated from the deepness of his voice.

“Wise Popara bids you welcome,” said the Twi’lek, flashing sharpened teeth as she spoke.

“Dobra grandio Ma Lorda Popara Anjiliac,”
said Mander Zuma, wrapping his tongue around the difficult glottal stops of the Huttese. I am honored, my lord Popara Anjiliac.

The great Hutt made a deep rumbling comment, and the Twi’lek handmaidens giggled. The tallest one said, “He says that your accent is horrible. He understands your language, and it is apparent you understand his. Shall I continue to translate for you and spare you further embarrassment?”

“Please,” said Mander, “for the sake of my companions, if not just clarity for me.”

Another flash of sharpened teeth, and the Hutt made another deep comment. “Puissant Popara declares that the offer the new Jedi Order has made for the coordinates of the Indrexu Spiral is sufficient.”

“I am pleased that it is so, and appreciate Popara’s willingness to part with it.” Mander nodded.

Another deep rumble, which the Twi’lek translated as “Knowledge is like water—hard to contain once it has been unleashed. Though he notes that if you have a Bothan in your party, such knowledge will not be kept secret long.” She looked daggers at Eddey, who merely held up both palms in that
Who, me?
response that Mander had already become accustomed to.

Mander started to say that the coordinates would help many, but the ancient Hutt let out a string of belches. “Sage Popara would, however, like to expand the deal we have agreed to. Mighty Popara bids you serve his family.”

“Here it comes,” said Reen under her breath.

Mander ignored her. “Please continue.”

A long string of Huttese followed, sounding like a hot spring covered with mud. The Twi’lek’s forehead creased as she sought to remember it all. “Concerned Popara notes that there is a plague on the planet Endregaad, on the far side of the Indrexu Spiral. The world is close to the Corporate Sector Authority, and the CSA has placed it under quarantine, interdicting all ships in and out. The plight of the Endregaadi has touched beneficent Popara’s heart, and he wishes to make a gift of medicinal spice to the world. The CSA will have nothing to do with dealing with Hutts, and Popara regrets that their lack of appreciation may cause greater suffering. You will be provided a ship carrying the spice with the coordinates already locked into the computer.”

Mander shot Reen a look at the mention of spice, and the spacer’s eyes were wide. She started to say something, but was drowned out by the return of the Wookiee from the lift tube, the huge creature bearing a keg of ale underneath each burly arm and shouting a welcoming cry. The other Wookiees in the smaller Hutt’s alcove responded in kind, and Mander took the opportunity to touch Reen on the shoulder and shake his head. The factotum Vago might tolerate such an interruption, the shake said, but it would be unlikely that Popara would, despite his stated benevolence.

For his part, the older Hutt unleashed a caustic tirade of abusive gutturals at the Wookiees and the younger Hutt. While the Twi’lek did not translate any of the exchange, Mander did not need to know Huttese to understand a parent berating a misbehaving child. The younger Hutt looked wounded, and he and the Wookiees settled into muttering, the new returnee pointing at Eddey in particular.

Addressing the Twi’lek, Mander said, “On behalf of
the Jedi and all caring and concerned peoples of the galaxy, we thank Popara for his generosity, but question his interest in but one planet, and inquire if there is not something else he needs us to be aware of.”

The Twi’lek took a short, insulted intake of breath, but the ancient Hutt let out a deep sigh and spoke in a low tone to his translator, who then addressed Mander. “Mighty Popara has seen two of his spawn grow to maturity. Zonnos, here, is the elder of the two.” She made an almost imperceptible head-nod toward the Hutt and his Wookiee entourage. “His youngest child is Mika. Mika Anjiliac was on Endregaad when the plague hit, and the CSA interdicted the world. There has been no word of him since then, and Popara, a caring parent, is concerned. The child is … impetuous.”

Mander nodded and said, “I understand his concern for one of a younger generation. We will be glad to see delivery of the medical supplies and determine what happened to your son.”

“We keep the ship,” Reen interrupted.

Mander shot her a sudden, shocked look, but the older Hutt merely chortled. “Of course,” said the Twi’lek. “When gracious Popara expanded the deal, he meant to expand both the risk and the reward. The ship will be more than sufficient payment for this favor.”

Popara the Hutt shifted forward on his cushions, his great girth hanging over the sides, towering over Mander and the others like an avalanche of flesh. His eyes softened, and for a moment he looked very, very old and alone. In a quiet voice, he said, in Basic, “Bring me back my son.” Then he settled back, and it was as if the moment had not happened. He was no longer a concerned father, merely a Hutt employer. Two of the robed Twi’leks dabbed at him with scented fluids, and the third asked, “Are you amenable to this addendum?”

“We will do our best,” said Mander.

“Vago Gejalli will see to your needs,” said the Twi’lek, and the great Hutt closed his eyes to mere slits—a sign that the audience was at an end.

“Bargon u noa-a-uyat,”
Popara said, by way of benediction: You will be rewarded.

“Your thanks, the coordinates, and the ship are reward enough,” said Mander. He turned, leading the two others through the muskwood doors.

In the hallway, the H-3PO unit directed them down to a meeting room. Reen leaned in close to Mander and said, “I told you that you need to drive a hard bargain with the Hutts.”

“And I told
you
,” said Mander, “to let me do the talking.”

The briefing room was better lit but equally sumptuous, with raised ramps along one wall and a table and chairs more suitable for hominids in the center. Tasteful but opulent statues stood in niches along one wall. Reen examined one made of a rose-colored mineral depicting an incongruous Hutt emerging from a sweeping fountain of water. Reen reached out to touch a finger to the delicately carved foam.

Vago, behind them, spat out a string of Huttese. The slightly dented green H-3PO unit trailed after her like a moon in the Hutt’s tidal wake. The droid said, “That statue was presented to mighty Popara to commemorate the successful birth of his youngest child Mika. It is carved of a single emradite crystal. Such statuary would often be protected by virulent contact poisons, but that one has been detoxified.” Despite the nontoxic assurance, Reen pulled back her hand.

Vago ignored her and moved over to the table, toggling a switch. A holodisplay illuminated the schematics of a ship in the center of the table. It was shaped like a blunted arrowhead.