ally, yet he dared speak only with discretion. "Great Jabba," he began.
Jabba regarded Tessek with narrowed eyes. "I am afraid that I will be
no good to you if I dehydrate further. May I retire to the kitchens for
a quick sponge bath?"
Jabba ogled him with obscene interest, relishing Tessek's suffering.
"Stay here beside me," Jabba said.
"Prove your loyalty."
"Oh, Master, you can be assured of my loyalty: if trouble comes, I will
take the place of honor--guarding your back!"
"Ho, ho, ho, ho," Jabba chuckled quietly, then drew a long breath from
his hookah, closing his eyes in ecstasy. In that moment, Tessek looked
deep into Leia's eyes, trying to bore his traitorous intent into her.
Surprisingly, her eyes suddenly widened, as if she understood
completely. She nodded her chin, then turned away.
In another hour, Tessek felt frail as they reached the Great Pit of
Carkoon. The suns of Tatooine beat down mercilessly. Tessek's breath
came shallow, and as Jabba eagerly leaned forward to watch the execution
of Luke Skywalker, Tessek surreptitiously reached into one of the
henchmen's drinks and rubbed the ice over his face.
Jabba's protocol droid read the death sentence to Luke Skywalker and the
Rebel heroes, then asked for any last words. Han Solo retorted with
curses designed to be especially offensive to those of Huttese descent,
while Skywalker simply offered Jabba one last chance to surrender.
Tessek scanned the larboard horizon, certain that a phalanx of Rebel
fighters must be screaming toward them. Confused, he turned and looked
out the starboard side of the sail barge, then he looked up at
Tatooine's blinding double suns. Still no sign of enemy craft.
"Throw them in!" Jabba shouted, and his men pushed Luke Skywalker into
the pit. But the young Jedi used the plank as a springboard--twisting
in midair to land back on the vehicle, and someone on the sail barge
tossed him a weapon. Within seconds, the Jedi was chopping up Jabba's
men.
"Get him! Get him!" Jabba shouted, and several henchmen began shooting
at the Rebel heroes despite the fact that stray shots were as likely to
hit their own comrades. They knew that Jabba would well reward the one
who brought the Jedi down.
For one slim moment, Tessek had to wonder when the Alliance aid would
come. Han Solo and the heroes of the Rebel Alliance were fighting the
best they could, but most of them seemed to be nothing more than a bunch
of bunglers. One of them fell to the edge of the Great Pit of Carkoon,
and the others rushed to his aid, leaving only the young Jedi to
withstand the might of all of Jabba's forces.
Tessek pulled out his own blaster, and stood at Jabba's back. All of
Jabba's henchmen were rushing to the larboard side of the ship, trying
to shoot Luke Skywalker and the other Rebels. Tessek suddenly had a
clean shot to Jabba's head.
But even as he considered whether to shoot, Leia jumped up and wrapped
her chains around Jabba's throat, strangling him. Tessek could no
longer get a clean shot atJabba's head, so he faded back two paces into
the shadows, watching to see ifJabba's henchmen would notice Leia's
move, wondering at the balance of this battle: would the Rebel Alliance
come soon?
Would Jabba's men shoot the Rebel heroes down?
One of the Weequays--Tessek's own henchman--turned and saw Leia, began
to raise a shout. Tessek fired into the man's throat. In all of the
commotion, no one seemed to notice.
Within seconds, one of the skiffs exploded his own bomb, he supposed and
half of Jabba's men were dead. Leia finished off the Hutt, and Tessek,
who had kept waiting for the Rebel attack, suddenly realized that there
would be no phalanx of fighters. These --apparently bungling--Rebels
were tearing Jabba's trained mercenaries apart. Their Wookiee fired a
cannonade into the sail barge--causing it to list and whine complaining
under Tessek's feet--then the Wookiee tried to rescue Han Solo.
snagging a jug of water as he ran, found his swoop, unlatched an escape
panel, and shot out over the sands at top speed.
As he cleared the sail barge, a mushroom cloud rose up behind, a fiery
testimonial to the end of Jabba's reign.
Tessek drank deeply and poured the water over his skin, then wrapped his
cloaks tightly about him as he headed home, considering how he might
consolidate his forces at what once was Jabba's palace.
He felt dry. The desert wind burned his face, sucked the moisture from
him. He hated how he felt so dry, hated the hot knives of wind that
sliced away at him, paring him down to the bone. But as the swoop
soared over sand hills, dipped into shallows, Tessek realized that he
felt light. For the first time in his life, he felt light and free .
. .
"I'm free. I'm free!" Tessek began gibbering. He dreamed of Jabba's
wealth, lying about in unprotected heaps, and of the greater wealth
carefully concealed in numbered accounts and prudently invested in
businesses throughout the galaxy.
Tessek reached Jabba's stronghold at nightfall, when the lights normally
shone from the guard towers and the worrts in the pools around the
palace croaked out in terrible song.
The palace was dark, empty, and Tessek feared that he would be left
stranded outside to die in the darkness.
Yet as his swoop drew near, whining across the still-hot sand like some
flying insect, Tessek noticed burning torches at the front gate.
"I'd better alert them that Jabba's dead and I'm now in command."
After he delivered his dire news, though, he fled the chaos to someplace
dark, quiet, safe. He took the swoop around back to the motor pool. As
he approached, the plasteel door slid open.
Barada. Good, faithful Barada, Tessek thought. He glided into the
motor pool, and immediately knew that something was wrong. At the very
least, maintenance droids should have been working, lighting the bay
with their glowing eyes.
But the motor pool was silent, dark as a tomb. The doors slid closed
behind him, and Tessek let himself drop from the swoop, too weary and
ill to walk.
"Barada? Barada? Bring me water, please . . ." he cried. Then he
remembered. Barada was dead, killed on the sail barge. He wouldn't
bring water, and it couldn't have been he who opened the doors.
Tessek looked about the dark, empty rooms, wondering who had let him in.
Tessek hated his body, his frail body that could not take the desert
heat of Tatooine, that constantly threatened to blow away like sand. He
cursed silently when no one answered his call.
He crawled to a nearby sink in Barada's quarters, watered his skin and
drank heartily, then staggered into the palace to tell the others that
Jabba was dead.
His news caused no small stir, and Tessek hurried to his upper rooms to
pack water and food while he plotted how to remove as much of Jabba's
wealth as possible.
The corridors of the
palace were dark, cloistered, with all of Jabba's
soldiers gone. In some ways, the place seemed darker, more sinister,
than at any time when Jabba had reigned here.
After he had thrown together his belongings, Tessek left his quarters,
realizing with relief that he would never have to come back.
He heard a snickety sound from the far wall of the corridor, and the
clicking sound of an approaching droid as it scrabbled across the dark
floor, its footsteps echoing dully.
Tessek looked down the hall. A great black spider-like brain walker
crawled toward him, twin lights shining like dull eyes in the darkness.
Behind it marched another, and another--coming toward him through the
hallways in all directions. The B'omarr monks.
"Greetings, Acolyte Tessek," the first of the monks whispered.
"Go away," Tessek pleaded, and in his' weakened state, he leaned his
back against a wall and slid down, collapsing in fear and weariness.
Then he heard the squeaking of the cart's wheels, and saw the laser
scalpels neatly laid out upon it.
Six months later, Tessek leftJabba's palace for the first time.
He felt rested and secure as his spidery mechanical body climbed up to
the highest turrets atop the towers with ease.
There, Tessek sat out on a parapet, looked down at the evening suns
setting crimson and purple above the yawning white desert. A gust of
wind blew across the desert, raising a cloud of dust. Whether the wind
was hot or cool, wet or dry, Tessek no longer cared.
It was the first time in six months that he'd left his brain jar, using
his newly developed powers to psychically will one of the mechanical
bodies to himself.
There was wealth still heaped below him in the palace, free for the
taking, if anyone dared to enter. But after the first few meager
attempts by cutthroats and thieves from Mos Eisley, volunteers for the
job were somehow lacking.
Tessek set his brains on the ledge of a wall, splayed his spider legs
out wide. At one time, he would have been afraid of falling. At one
time, he would have felt as if he were perched on the top of the world.
But now, Tessek shut down his eyes and explored the world with his mind.
Below him, in the deepest cells of Jabba's haunted palace, the newest
B'omarr monks practiced their meditations.
In the desert, the predators hunted those things that still had flesh on
their bones. Jawas and the Sand People fought their battles and
scrambled for water.
In Mos Eisley, the Lady Valarian was bringing new style and class to the
underworld. And in the heavens above, the Rebel Alliance still fought
for what . . . ?
Freedom.
Tessek let his mind soar, far between the stars, lightly touching the
minds of people he had once met and felt some kinship for. Luke, Leia,
Han, the Wookiee.
Simultaneously, each of the Alliance heroes suddenly had the same odd,
compelling thought: If ever you return to Jabba's fortress, you will
find a free Quarren in the palace.
And one by one, each of the heroes shook their heads to clear the odd
thought from their minds.
As the suns dipped below the horizon, Tessek got up and trundled down a
dark corridor that led to the lowest levels of Jabba's palace.
There, among the nutrient-filled brain jars, he would find rest. · ·
Tongue-tied: Bubo's Tale
by Daryl F. MAllett
Thheuwp.
A long, prehensile tongue quietly snaked out from a warty mouth,
slurping up forgotten. tidbits and dropped crumbs. But while the
tongue was active, so were the bulbous purple eyes atop the green head.
From the shadowy alcove where he crouched beneath the still-warm ovens,
Bubo observed the goings-on in the kitchen.
Throughout his long career as a spy and assassin, and in dozens of
places not unlike this one, he had seen similar occurrences. Gartogg,
one of the huge security guards, was questioning Ree-Yees. A body lay
at their feet. A thrill of glee ran through Bubo's tongue, tickling the
roof of his mouth, as he contemplated the Gamorrean guard clubbing the
Gran over the head and hauling him off to the dungeons to await the
Hutt's punishment.
Bubo didn't like working with the Grannish operative.
The three-eyed being was too unprofessional, too unbalanced, too
emotional. He relied heavily upon other people rather than on his own
abilities. And when he got nervous, he consumed large quantities of
inebriants.
And besides that, Ree-Yees just tasted wrong.
Bubo's tongue curled in disgust as the three-eyed idiot managed to
convince the dim-witted guard of his innocence.
Someday, you'll get yours, he thought as he turned and shambled off into
the ventilation shaft behind the ovens.
As he made his way through the stone-and-metal shafts, all the while
searching for a delicious Jawa or perhaps catching Salacious Crumb
alone, he reflected on the current contract. While only a minor player
this time, Bubo was concerned about being exposed by his colleague's
seemingly endless ineptitudes. And the Hutt's rage was something to be
feared.
Bubo knew he was being used by Ree-Yees and several others. They, along
with most of the universe, looked upon his kind as nothing more than
drooling, mindless, bug-eating frog-dogs . . . a reputation which the
species did nothing to correct. In reality, they were some of the most
mentally competent beings in existence. At least Bubo thought so.
Thus, when he had arrived on this sand-and-lizard-infested planet
several years ago, Bubo had taken great delight in discovering the
B'omarr monks encysted in this very citadel. It was to them he would
turn now, as he did always, in his need for enlightenment.
And if that failed, he had one last card to play to insure that Ree-Yees
would take the fall.
The air was cooler below ground level, and a hint of moisture tinged the
air. Approaching footsteps caused Bubo to withdraw into the shadows and
shield his mind. Because everyone thought him a dumb animal, he
normally didn't need to hide; he could merely shamble along with no
fear. But he identified the distinctively soft tread as Bib Fortuna's.
Jabba's majordomo was always lurking in the lower depths of the palace,
mining what information he could from the humanitarian B'omarr.
And the Twi'lek's mental control was incredible. Not quite the level of
the B'omarr or the Jedi, but enough to frighten Bubo into erecting
shields. He knew the Twi'lek was up to something. He suspected Fortuna
was blackmailing the monks into doing his bidding but, while he
respected the monks, Bubo wanted no part of any of it.
When the Hutt's chief lieutenant had passed, Bubo continued down the
corridors, easily avoiding the many mechanical spiders containing the
disembodied brains of the monks.
He went directly to a small cavern off the beaten track and entered the
darkness, feeling his way to the waiting area. A dim light slowly
illuminated him as he sat down. After a few moments of waiting, another
shaft showed a large brain encased in a jar of nutrients.
"Welcome, Buboicullaar." The brain used Bubo's formal name and spoke
directly into his mind without flashing lights or sparkles, as Bubo had
seen in several cheap holos. The deep, cheerful voice resonated
throughout his body, reassuring and relaxing him.
Greetings, Evilo Nailati, Bubo responded, a bit awed, as always, by the
disembodied voice.
What may I tell you, little one? asked the enlightened B'omarr.
Bubo decided on a roundabout approach. How may I control my feelings
and accomplish my task ?
Killing Jabba, you mean?
Bubo involuntarily let a mental gasp escape. So much for the roundabout
approach. The monk's brain laughed as Bubo asked, You know?
We live within a den of thieves, little one . . . The voice paused a
moment. Why do you want this?
Bubo croaked aloud in his own laughter7For the money, of course But what
do you really want, Buboicullaar? I seek to learn. Unlike most of my
brethren, I do not seek such abstract concepts as "truth" and
"enlightenment." I am looking to amass as much information as I can;
something I would be unable to do in my body, for it would die after
less than a century. This way, I can remain alive for millennia,
learning and growing mentally, and then be returned to a corporeal