Star Wars - Tales From The Mos Eisley Cantina

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Star Wars - Tales From The Mos Eisley Cantina Page 6

by Kevin J. Anderson


  way to kill him is to vaporize the whole assembly."

  Dyyz Nataz groaned. "Why didn't ya tell me that, Goa? I would

  have finished him. Now we got to worry about him hittin' us for

  the credits we owe him!"

  "Take it easy, Dyyz. Jodo Kastjust told mejabba gave Gorm the

  sweetest hit on the wanted list - fifty thousand credits to bring

  in Zardra."

  "You're kiddin'. Zardra's a bounty hunter. What's Jabba got

  against her?"

  The three were sitting in the smoky shadows of the Mos Eisley

  Cantina, sipping green Pica Thundercloud and watching the bounty

  hunters drift in from around the galaxy Weequays, Aqualish,

  Arcona, Defels, Kauronians, Fneebs, Quill-heads, Bomodons,

  Alpheridians - and the inevitable Ganks. Greedo even saw a couple

  of Rodians. They nodded in his direction, but he didn't return the

  greeting. He'd learned long ago that unknown Rodians could be

  dangerous.

  A cocky Corellian and a big Wookiee entered and stood on the

  lobby steps for a minute, surveying the crowd. Greedo recognized

  the smugglers he'd come up against in Ninx's repair barn on Nar

  Shaddaa. He felt hatred roil up inside him at the sight of the

  two.

  Then the Corellian turned and left the cantina, and the Wookiee

  followed him. Dyyz Nataz snorted "Right, Solo. You're in the

  wrong place, buddy."

  "Han Solo? Is he here?" Warhog Goa swung around in his chair

  and looked around the room.

  "Yeah. Solo and his Wookiee pal Chewbacca came in and looked

  around and left. Solo's on Jabba's list, ya know. If I was him,

  I'd make like a space frog and hop to some other galaxy!" Dyyz

  took a deep swallow of Thundercloud. "Now, what's this about

  Zardra? What did she ever do to be worth fifty to of Jabba?"

  Goa turned back to his two companions and hoisted his glass.

  For a bone-dry planet, Tatooine sure brewed some of the best

  beverages in the galaxy-expensive, but very tasty. "Here's to

  Zardra," he said, and he drank, then wiped his mouth with his

  gloved hand.

  "Zardra and Jodo Kast were on a hunt in the Sten-ness System,

  lookin' for a pair o' spicejackers named the Thig Brothers. The

  Thigs were armed to the gills with Imperial blasters they'd stole

  from a military supply depot. Jodo says to Zardra, 'Why don't we

  split up? I'll put the word around the ports that I'm following

  the Thigs . . . and you stay out of sight. The Thigs will be

  itchin' for a fight-I know those guys. They'll come lookin' for

  me, I'll stage a little face-off, and you sting 'em from the

  shadows. Just stun 'em, you know. We'll take 'em alive.'

  "Jodo knew he could count on Zardra. She's as fearless as they

  come-and a crack shot with a stun-laser."

  "Yeah. I've seen her in action. The best. So then what

  happened?"

  All this time Greedo wasn't saying anything. He was savoring

  Dyyz's remark that Solo was on Jabba's list. Half-formed images of

  revenge flickered through his mind. He was content to sit and

  listen to his friends and watch the crowd of bounty hunters. I'm

  one of them, he thought. I'm a bounty hunter. Spurch is going to

  take me to meet Jabba . . . Jabba needs good hunters right now . .

  . lots of 'em. Jabba needs me.

  Just then Gorm the Dissolver stood up at his table and scanned

  the room with his electronic red eyes. Greedo ducked and shielded

  his face with his hand. Squinting between two suckered fingers, he

  watched the big bounty hunter turn and swagger toward the lobby.

  "There goes Gorm," said Greedo, alerting his friends.

  "Oh . . . yeah? Good riddance, I say. He'll be on his way to

  find Zardra. I hope she melts him ta slag!"

  "Maybe we ought to warn her, Warhog."

  "Don't worry, she knows. She's got a lot of friends in our line

  of work. I'll wager a good krayt steak Jodo's already told her."

  "You're probably right . . . So what's the rest of the story?

  Why is Jabba the Hutt payin' Gorm fifty thousand to Mil Zardra?"

  "Easy. She killed a Hutt, that's why! When the Thig Brothers

  came lookin' forjodo, they found him waitin" in the Red

  Shadow-that's a bistro on Taboon, a slag heap of a planet where

  nobody but 'Nessies would ever live. Trouble was, a Hutt named

  Mageye was passin' through, on his way ta cut a deal with ol'

  BolBol, another Hutt who practically owns the Stenness System."

  "Oh, I get it. Mageye gets caught in the crossfire?" Dyyz made

  a yawning noise under his blastmask.

  "Worse. Mageye is carried into the bistro on a palanquin, ya

  see, by these five strong Weequays. The excitement starts, the

  Thigs are shootin' at everything that moves, two Weequays get hit,

  they drop the palanquin, and the worm rolls off . . . right on top

  of Zardra!"

  "Hah! Poor Zardra!"

  "Poor Mageye. Zardra's wearin' full armor, but she's still

  gettin' crushed and the slime and stench is about to suffocate her

  ... So she pulls a gauge-six thermal detonator out of her pocket

  and pops it into the Hurt's mouth!"

  Goa paused for effect, letting his listeners form an image of

  what happened next. Greedo made a soft hooting noise. Dyyz emitted

  a choking sound. Goa picked up his Thundercloud and swallowed.

  "It took 'em a month to clean up the mess, boys." Goa swigged

  more Thundercloud, and his foam-covered beak made a satisfied

  clacking noise.

  "Uh . . . great. Good story, Warhog," said Dyyz, laughing. "So

  when's our turn to meet with Jabba?"

  Goa looked at his chronometer. "Actually, we're late," he said.

  "Let's get moving."

  9. Jabba

  Jabba the Hutt, gangster preeminent, was receiving petitioners

  at his Mos Eisley town house, a short walk from the cantina.

  A violent windstorm brewed in the surrounding desert, whipping

  clouds of grit over Mos Eisley, The narrow streets of the

  spaceport were dust-choked and dim. The three bounty hunters

  pulled protective cloaks across their faces as they hurried to

  their audience with the notorious Hutt.

  "Don't know how they can keep droids functioning on a place

  like this," said Dyyz. "My visor's already got three centimeters

  of sand under it."

  "Moisture farmers use up a lot of droids," said Goa. "S and

  seizes joints and clogs cooling fins, and the 'ironies burn out.

  Half the population thrives off the junk that's the main product

  of this hot and dusty planet."

  Two stout Gamorrean tuskers blocked the heavy iron grid that

  protected the courtyard of Jabba's town house. The piglike brutes

  made threatening grunts and brandished battle-axes as the bounty

  hunters appeared out of the darkening streets. But Warhog Goa

  didn't hesitate, roaring out the password he'd been given earlier.

  The Gamorreans immediately stepped back.

  The spear-tipped gate rose with the grinding of hidden gears,

  and Goa sauntered under the menacing points with a cocksure gait.

  Dyyz and Greedo held back, waiting to see what happened to their

  friend. Goa turned and cackled. "What's th
e matter, Dyyz? You

  afraid of ol' Jabba? He's the hunter's friend! C'mon, Greedo, I'll

  show you how to get rich!"

  Suddenly four vicious-looking Nikto emerged from the shadows of

  the courtyard and leveled blaster-prods at Goa. "Nudd chaa!

  Kichawa joto!" one of them shouted.

  "What do you know - we're just in time! Jabba's ready to see

  us!" Goa ignored the prods and strode fearlessly toward the

  glowing aperture of Jabba's domicile. The Nikto lowered their

  weapons and snarled something unintelligible.

  Dyyz and Greedo followed, cautiously.

  The raucous babble of the galactic riffraff that crowded

  Jabba's audience chamber was deafening. Alien and human, a hundred

  different species, faces contorted with greed and depravity,

  wearing a motley assortment of spacers' costumes and military

  gear.

  All eyes turned to the three newcomers. Greedo surveyed the

  grotesque gathering and wondered-it seemed as if he recognized

  only a few species from his years on Nar Shaddaa. "Are these all

  bounty hunters?" he shouted to Goa.

  "Nah. Maybe about half of 'em. The rest are just the slimy

  bottom feeders that enjoy being around Jabba's stench and

  corruption."

  Goa wasn't just kidding. Greedo noticed a rancid odor permeated

  the room, and in a few seconds he guessed its source the great

  worm himself, Jabba the Hutt, ensconced on a platform to his

  right, puffing on a convoluted water pipe.

  Greedo had seen many Hutts in the streets of Nar Shaddaa. But

  he had never been in a closed space with one. His stomach churned

  and twisted at the sight and smell of the miasmic mass of the

  great gangster, fawned over by unctuous Twi'leks and Squidheads

  and... Rodians. Yes, the two Rodians they'd seen in the cantina

  were before the great Jabba, bowing slavishly, like supplicants in

  the palace of a Paladian Prince. A silver protocol droid was

  translating their groveling remarks for malodorous Jabba.

  "Maybe they're bending over to throw up," said Dyyz, reading

  Greedo's thoughts.

  "How would a Rodian know the difference?" said Goa. "The green

  goons stink almost as bad as Jabba."

  Greedo gave Goa a startled look. Why did he say that? Am I just

  a "green goon" to him? He decided Goa was trying to make a crude

  joke.

  As the two Rodians faded back into the crowd, ma-jordomo Bib

  Fortuna cast a suspicious eye toward the new visitors. With an

  almost imperceptible nod, he signaled for Goa, Dyyz, and Greedo to

  step forward.

  The rabble quieted as the three hunters moved to position in

  front of the great worm. Everyone wanted to see if a death

  sentence was about to be executed. When it became apparent that

  these were just another team of rapacious bounty hunters, the

  hubbub resumed.

  "Vifaa karibu uta chuba Jabba!" began Goa, speaking perfect

  Huttese. He knew that Jabba himself spoke many languages fluently,

  and used his protocol droid for the several million other forms of

  communication. But he wished to honor the crimelord in every way

  possible.

  "Mojajpo chakula cha asubuhi!" rumbled the Hutt, apparently

  pleased to be treated with respect by scum.

  "What did he say?" said Dyyz. "What did you say?"

  "I told 'im he's the most disgustin' pile o' swamp sludge in

  the galaxy. He thanked me for groveling before his bloated slimy

  putrid body."

  "R-really," whispered Greedo. "You said that?"

  "Goa's pullin' yer snout, kid. We'd be rancor bait if he'd said

  any of that stuff."

  Goa turned his full attention to the Hutt, hoping Jabba hadn't

  heard the whispered exchange.

  If he had heard it, Jabba gave no sign. He proceeded to laugh

  quite jovially and popped a squirming sand maggot into his mouth.

  Greedo almost retched at the sight of the swollen tongue, dripping

  with slaver. At this distance, of not more than a meter and a

  half, the malignant smell of Jabba's breath was overpowering.

  The Hull's lardaceous body seemed to periodically release a

  greasy discharge, sending fresh waves of rolten stench lo Greedo's

  sensitive nostrils.

  "Ne subul Greedo, pombo gek fultrh badda wanga!" Goa put one

  hand on Greedo's shoulder as he introduced his protege to the

  illustrious gangster. Greedo bowed nervously, as the huge eyes

  turned on him and reduced him to space dust.

  Jabba and Goa exchanged a few more phrases, and then Jabba

  proceeded to deliver a long soliloquy that ended with the words

  "... kwa bo noodta du dedbeeta Han Solo?"

  Goa turned to Greedo and Dyyz. "The worm has seen fit to offer

  us the opportunity of hunting one of his most notorious

  debtors-that pirate Han Solo. Solo claims he lost a load of spice

  when he got boarded by Imps. But Jabba thinks Solo sold the spice

  and kept the money. This is a collection job-Jabba wants that

  money."

  "I ain't messin' with Solo," said Dyyz. "He's got too many ways

  of gettin' revenge . . . even after he's dead."

  "I can handle him," said Greedo. "He's just a smalltime

  Corellian spicerunner who thinks he's big stuff. He stole a rancor-

  skin jacket off me. I'll take Solo."

  Warhog Goa looked at Greedo for a moment and then slapped him

  on the back. "Okay, kid. That's what I like to hear! This'll be a

  good assignment to cut your baby teeth on, 'cause Solo's on

  Tatooine! We saw him today in the cantina, remember? I'll even be

  able to give ya some backup. If he's got the money on him, you'll

  get it easy."

  Dyyz snorted. "Great-you help the kid. I don't want nothin' to

  do with it ... Now what about us? You gonna set up a couple of

  deals for us, or you gonna waste the whole trip on the kid?"

  "Right. I got that covered." Goa exchanged a few more words

  with Jabba, and then Fortuna handed the bounty hunters three

  scrolls, the official contracts assigning them exclusive "hunting

  rights" for the period of two Tatooine months. The Solo scroll was

  for a much shorter period, due to the fact that Jabba was .anxious

  to clean up a debt that had remained uncol-lected far too long.

  On a signal from Fortuna, the three bounty hunters bowed

  ceremoniously and moved back to make room for the next team of job

  applicants-an unsavory human named Dace Bonearm and his IG-model

  assassin droid.

  Greedo found himself separated from Goa and Dyyz, as they were

  swallowed up in the crowded audience chamber. Greedo made his way

  to an open spot in a corner, next to the bar. Without being asked,

  the Aqualish bartender slid a brimming glass his way. Greedo felt

  proud of himself as he leaned back against the wall and sipped the

  syrupy Tatooine Sunburn.

  Across the room he could see Dyyz, standing next to a hunter

  named Dengar that Greedo remembered from Nar Shaddaa. They were

  both examining their scrolls and comparing notes.

  Warhog Goa was deep in conversation with one of the Rodians.

  Greedo felt a twinge of jealousy, seeing his mentor talking to

>   another Rodian bounty hunter.

  I'm a bounty hunter, he thought. I'm going to stalk my prey and

  I'm going to collect the reward and I'm going to start building a

  rep. I'm going to be the toughest Rodian bounty hunter that ever

  was.

  I wonder what that Rodian and Goa are talking about? He saw Goa

  look toward him and then the Rodian's eyes met his, and Greedo

  realized they were talking about him. At first.he felt uneasy

  being noticed by the strange Rodian. Then Goa waved and the Rodian

  held up his hand, suckers out, in a gesture of brotherhood.

  Greedo beamed with pride. Okay, they're talkin' about me-Greedo

  the Bounty Hunter.

  10. Solo

  "RRUUARRRNN!'"The Wookiee slammed a shaggy fist down on the

  Millennium Falcon's shield generator and pushed back his welding

  mask.

  "Take it easy, Chewie. I wanna get off this dirtball as much as

  you do. But without deflectors we're easy game for spicejackers

  and nosy Imps."

  "Hwuarrn? Nnrruahhnm?"

  "Right. Jabba's throwing the biggest bounty-hunting bash in the

  sector - and you just know our names are gettin' bandied around

  over dessert. That's another reason to blow this joint. But like I

  say, if the ship had been undercover during the sandstorm, we

  wouldn't be in this mess."

  Han Solo finished vacuuming sand out of the alluvial dampers

  and wiped his brow on his sleeve. Why does a free and unfettered

  guy like me always end up on wasted planets like this, when he

  could be basking in the oceanside breezes of any gambling resort

  in the universe?

  Because I'm not very good at sabacc, he thought. Lucky

  sometimes, yeah. Rut not that lucky. Unlike some people I know, I

  gotta work for a living.

  Chewbacca made a soft warning growl and Solo raised his head

  and looked around. Two bulbous faceted eyes were staring at him

  out of spiny green balls of flesh. The leather-garbed humanoid

  body beneath the head held a blaster in multisuckered fingers.

  "Han Solo?" The voice from the long green snout spoke through

  an electronic translator.

  "Who wants to know?" Han knew who wanted to know. A Rodian with

  a blaster is always a bounty hunter ... or a bill collector.

  "Greedo. I work for Jabba the Hutt."

  "Greedo ... oh yeah, I remember you - the kid who tried to

  steal my power couplings. Okay, good for you, so now you're

 

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