Tales From Jabba's Palace

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Fortuna lifted his head and looked atJabba, so close to his own public

  bed. He could smell Jabba's alien, musky sweat in the heat of the

  night, and he wrinkled his nose and began a ritual that often calmed him

  so he could sleep. Of the day annoyances, these, Fortuna counted

  silently. That Jabba still lives. That was the chief and foremost of

  every day's list of annoyances.

  But Jabba would die soon.

  Fortuna's preparations were nearly complete: securing the final sets of

  codes to Jabba's scattered bank accounts, testing the loyalty of the

  last few he needed to stand by him during the coup. He had little left

  to do. But besides his own plot, Fortuna knew of fourteen others

  against Jabba's life, plots he would not stop now. It was always wise

  to make contingency plans, and he had fourteen sets of plotters doing

  just that for him. He would simply watch them, and guide them where

  possible. He hoped he would beat the others and actually have the

  pleasure of murdering Jabba, but it did not much matter to him, as long

  as it got done at roughly the correct time.

  However Jabba's death came about, Fortuna would end up in charge.

  He would control the bulk of the fortune.

  Some plots were quite entertaining: the Anzati assassin, for instance,

  in the pay of both Lady Valarian and Eugene Talmont, the Imperial

  prefectwan amusing confusion of patrons for that assassin.

  There was Tessek, a fussy little Quarren Jabba wanted killed, who

  himself plotted to kill Jabba. A simple plot Fortuna favored was that

  of a kitchen boy who had planned to poison Jabba because several years

  earlier Jabba had fed his brother to the rancor after a sauce failed.

  So many here hated Jabba, and Jabba relished their hatred--one of his

  many great mistakes, Fortuna thought. Jabba believed his acts of

  cruelty made beings everywhere fear him, and he thought fear protected

  him. But fear endured for days and months and years turns to hatred.

  Hatred spawns plots for revenge.

  Fortuna planned to run things differently.

  He lay back and smiled to himself. Fourteen assassination plotsand

  beyond that, sixty-eight plots to rob the palace. There was no end to

  the plotting.

  Of the day's other annoyances, these, he continued.

  That he had found it necessary to watch Nat's body be destroyed.

  That he had had to threaten the monks to get them to remove Nat's brain.

  That the delivery of two-headed effrikim worms Jabba favored on hot

  mornings--and whose endorphins induced hours of drowsinesswhad not come

  in, again, thus making the constant supply of other diversions

  necessary: dancers, liquor, spice. Annoyances, all of them--a day of

  annoyances.

  But of them all, the greatest--the chief annoyance --was that Jabba

  still lived.

  The rancor roared in the pit and banged against the walls of its cage.

  No one stirred.

  Those were common sounds.

  The surgeons assured Fortuna that "brain swapping" was possible but

  rarely tried--and then only when the galaxy needed an embodied spiritual

  guide and there hadn't been time for one to be born and raised up. In

  those times, the monks would choose a healthy acolyte and one of the

  enlightened, and surgeons would swap the brains.

  Fortuna felt confident that he could force the monks to perform the

  procedure for Nat.

  Fortuna talked to Nat's brain every day, sometimes twice a day, and

  after two weeks, some lights glowed green and blue. But at least one

  always glowed bright red: panic was always there in Nat, and it had

  probably been there too long. The brain was unstable. The monks

  thought Nat partially insane: he would imagine, for days at a time, that

  he was blindfolded, his body tied down, and that Fortuna and the monks

  wouldn't let him up--that he was still in his body. For-tuna once asked

  him why, if he were just tied down, he couldn't feel his body--and all

  the lights suddenly glowed red.

  "Fit him in a brain walker," he told the monks.

  "Maybe if he can walk around he will become more sane."

  It took Nat days to learn to make the walker move, and his walker was

  forever stumbling into walls or For-tuna or the monks. Fortuna was

  afraid he would break his brain jar open, but the monks assured him the

  jar would not break easily. Nat tried to follow Fortuna wherever he

  went, and the monks would have to hold Nat back from following Fortuna

  up to Jabba.

  "Don't let it come looking for me!" he ordered the monks. He did not

  want Nat stumbling around, saying things he shouldn't amongst people who

  thought the rancor had eaten all of him.

  But one day, when the monks were too busy with Spring Equinox ceremonies

  to watch Nat as closely as Fortuna ordered, Nat did come up to the

  throne room. His brain walker stumbled down the steps and scraped

  itself against the stone wall. No one paid it any attention.

  But it suddenly lurched out toward the center of the room, perilously

  close to the grille in the floor. Fortuna realized that if two or three

  of its legs fell through and it couldn't extricate itself, the guards

  would have to lift it up. Jabba might decide to send it down to the

  rancor instead. He had never sent a brain walker to the rancor, and

  Fortuna did not want Jabba to get the idea now.

  Jabba had a new protocol droid, a certain C-3PO--a gift from some human

  egotist who claimed to be a Jedi night. Fortuna quickly motioned the

  golden droid to his side. "Keep that brain walker away from the

  grille," he said. "Guide it around the perimeter of the room and back

  down to the monks as soon as possible."

  "At once, Master Fortuna," C-3PO said.

  But C-3PO soon tapped Fortuna on the shoulder.

  "The enlightened one wishes to speak with you," he said. "He absolutely

  refused to return to the monks until he had. I can't imagine what could

  be so important that he--"

  "That's enough," Fortuna said. "I will speak with it.

  Leave us."

  The droid arched its back and walked stiffly away.

  "What is it?" Fortuna asked Nat.

  "I have found a body--a holding body. You said I could have a body--"

  "Yes, yes. Whose is it?"

  "I don't remember its name, but it looks like a strong body, and I need

  a strong body--"

  "Where is it, then? Is it in this room?"

  Fortuna did not like carrying on this conversation in Jabba's throne

  room. He did not want anyone to overhear. Two or three were already

  looking at them.

  "Tell me now," Fortuna demanded. "Then you must return to the monks."

  "The body in the carbonite--it's doing no one any good. Give me the

  body in the carbonite!"

  Fortuna had to smile. "Han Solo?" he said. The idea was delicious to

  him. Fortuna had many reasons to hate Corellians--Bidlo Kwerve, his

  rival for the post of majordomo, had been a Corellian.

  Using Han's body in this way would be a fine revenge on Corellians in

  general. He looked at the body of Han Solo, frozen in carbonite,

  hibernating perfectly. Han's head looked roughly the same size as Nat's


  had been.

  "Of course," he told Nat. "You shall have that body. Soon." He did

  not have to add: when I am in control here. Such an experiment would

  probably have amused Jabba, but Fortuna could not have explained

  Nat's--or his own--part in it.

  Business took Fortuna into Mos Eisley. He was glad to get away from the

  palace for the afternoon, but it would be a busy time--arranging for new

  purveyors to ship the still awaited effrikim to the palace; checking the

  progress of the reconstruction of Jabba's town house after the fire.

  Perhaps the most interesting of his duties, however, would be meeting

  with the human, Luke Skywalker, who claimed to be a Jedi Knight and who

  had sent droids to Jabba as gifts. The human wanted to bargain for Han

  Solo, and Fortuna invited him to the town house to hear his offer. This

  sudden burst of interest in the frozen Corellian amused For-tuna.

  Perhaps there were ways to make Solo turn a profit yet.

  "It would be to your master's advantage to simply let Han go," Skywalker

  said.

  Fortuna laughed. He had expected arrogance from someone claiming to be

  a Jedi Knight, and he was not disappointed.

  "Han Solo cost Jabba dearly, young Jedi," Fortuna said. "How would

  simply letting him go work to my master's advantage? Besides, I'm

  certain the Empire would not want Solo wandering about again."

  "The government will change," was all Skywalker said in reply.

  And suddenly the mists clouding Fortuna's intuition cleared. He

  identified an astonishing plot afoot in the palace. The Rebellion

  wanted Han Solo. This human sitting in front of him was a

  representative of the Rebellion--and others were already in the palace:

  a guard, the droids, at least those--all part of a grand plot to free

  Han Solo, for reasons he could not imagine.

  What would the Rebellion want with a smuggler?

  Much of the plot was just probability--key figures were not in place

  yet, Fortuna could sense that. But his interest was piqued.

  This would be an interesting scenario to watch. Fortuna said nothing of

  all this to Skywalker. He brought the conversation back to money.

  "Solo costJabba dearly, as I said. He would expect payment for the

  shipment of spice Solo dumped if he ever let him go."

  "I will pay whatever Han costJabba, plus interest, if that is the only

  deal we can make," Skywalker said.

  "But you do not want money. You want to help your people, though your

  plans will hurt them more than ever. Free Han, and after you overthrow

  Jabba--join the Rebellion. The New Republic will put Ryloth under its

  protection. Ryloth will not be destroyed, as it will be under the

  Empire, and you will accomplish your goals."

  Fortuna could not speak for a moment. The intuitive powers of this

  young human were strong indeed.

  Luke's conviction and honesty touched Fortuna's heart. For a brief

  moment, Fortuna saw a bright future in which people would not have to

  plot and scheme and connive as he had done all his life. But the moment

  passed. Fortuna felt the heavy weight of the Empire and its ways settle

  back down around his mind.

  The Empire would not be overthrown. He could not entrust the fate of

  the Twi'lek people to the idealistic dreams of the pitiable Rebellion.

  Fortuna believed his own plans were, after all, the best.

  "Your words move me," he told Skywalker, finally, and he could not

  resist saying something about his coming overthrow of Jabba. "Some of

  what you foretold will take place within days. Your friend is best left

  frozen till then. He will be utterly safe in the carbonite during the

  troubles that come. But you are wrong about money. I will need great

  quantities of it to fulfill my dreams. Jabba will not accept your offer

  of payment with interest for Solo, though I will convey it to him. Rest

  assured, however, that when the day comes, I will accept."

  Skywalker quickly stood and bowed as if the meeting were over, though

  Fortuna had not had time to offer him a glass of spiced water or finish

  his other duties as host. This brusqueness was unexpected, and Fortuna

  wondered if the human was in a hurry to leave because he realized

  Fortuna knew the truth about him and his plot. That plot would change

  now, Fortuna was certain of it. He did not stand or return Skywalker's

  bow.

  "I will yet have Solo," Skywalker said, and Fortuna detected no

  arrogance in what he said, no boasting.

  His words were a simple statement of what he believed fact.

  "You will indeed have your friend after you bring your money to me. You

  will know when to come," Fortuna said. Skywalker turned and walked

  away.

  Fortuna did not tell the bright-eyed young human exactly how he meant to

  keep his word. He would sell him what Han Solo would have been reduced

  to by then: his brain. That was what the guards would deliver to this

  "Jedi" after they had his money. Such a deal would gain the attention

  of the Empire and improve Fortuna's standing in it.

  Jabba rejected the Jedi's offer and ordered Fortuna not to admit

  Skywalker--just as Fortuna had predicted.

  In the time that followed, Fortuna watched those the Rebellion had

  planted in the palace. The droids, the guard served with excellence.

  Then even more representatives of the Rebellion were planted, so to

  speak taken, even, to Jabba's bosom: a human woman, Leia Organa,

  one-time princess and Imperial senator--now a dancing slave, after she

  foolishly unmasked herself and saved Fortuna the trouble of bringing Han

  Solo out of the carbonite; and the Wookiee, Chewbacca, whom she brought

  to complete her failed disguise and who was promptly imprisoned, now

  with his old friend Solo. This plot did not look to be going very

  well--with key players in it seemingly happy in their employ, others

  imprisoned or made slaves. Fortuna believed he was right not to put any

  stock in the Rebellion, if this was the best it could do to rescue

  someone. He put more stock in the cook's plan to poison Jabba.

  But the former princess had managed to do one good thing, as far as

  Fortuna was concerned: she had brought a thermal detonator into the

  palace, and For-tuna now had it--after stealing it from a Whiphid guard

  who had stolen it from the princess during the commotion after her

  unmasking. No one ever asked what became of it. It alone made a

  marvelous contingency plan.

  Then one morning, Fortuna woke suddenly, before all the others.

  Something was not right in the palace: someone was in it who should not

  be, and he-was walking toward the throne room. Fortuna sat up and

  arranged his robes, and his intuition told him who was coming: Luke

  Skywalker. Fortuna moved quietly and quickly across the throne room and

  met Skywalker at the top of the steps.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked. "You know Jabba has not accepted

  your offer, and he will not speak to you. You must wait for me."

  "You will take me toJabba now," Skywalker said. No explanation.

  Typical arrogance.

  "I will take you to Jabba now," he answered Skywalker.

 
For a brief moment, Fortuna paused to consider whether the Jedi's tricks

  could have influenced his mind, but he quickly lost that thought. Surely

  it could not be so.

  Fortuna started back down the stairs and looked at Jabba. Waking him in

  the morning was a task not lightly undertaken, but he would do it. The

  incompetent guards were at last stirring and looking in his direction.

  The human followed Fortuna down the steps and mumbled some nonsense at

  his back about serving his master well and being rewarded.

  Fortuna could not repress a smile. He spoke in Jabba's ear: "Luke

  Skywalker, the Jedi, has come to speak to you."

  Jabba was angry at once, and Fortuna braced himself.

  "I told you not to admit him," Jabba grumbled.

  "I must be allowed to speak," Skywalker said. He tried to use his

  anything-but-subtle mind-manipulation trick on everyone in the room.

  "He must be allowed to speak," Fortuna said--but Jabba threw Fortuna

  against the wall. "You weak-minded fool!" he shouted at him.

  Fortuna took his time getting up and straightening his robes. No one

  would look at him. Fortuna felt shamed in front of his supporters.

  It was a precarious moment. Fortuna had planned to launch his coup

  within two days; he knew now that it would have to come within hours.