Star Wars: Tales from Jabba's Palace

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Droopy McCool raised his head slowly and stared at the Gamorrean guard standing in the open doorway to his room. The guard stared back at him.

  “Yes,” Droopy finally said.

  “I thought so,” the guard said. He stared back at Droopy.

  “Why?” Droopy finally said.

  “I saw Kitonaks in the deep desert once,” he said.

  “Oh,” Droopy said.

  The next time he looked up, the Gamorrean had gone away. Still, it was enough to get his slow, slow mind moving.

  Other Kitonaks in the deep desert … interesting.

  Sy Snootles stared at the small fortune on her bed and pondered what to do. At first she had intended to report Lady Valarian’s offer to one of Jabba’s lieutenants in case it had been a test of some kind. But since then, she hadn’t had a moment to herself. Person after person kept knocking on her door making her offers to spy for them. All told, she had sixteen different commissions to work for sixteen different parties. Each had left a “token payment” for her services, ranging from a few dozen credits to a hundred and fifty. Now all sixteen pouches sat in a neat little row on her bed.

  Of course, she’d agreed to spy for everyone.

  It seemed there might be more money than she’d suspected in working for Jabba the Hutt … and from all the wrong sources. At this rate, she’d have enough to get off planet in just a few weeks.

  She sat on a low chair, ignoring the mess on the walls, ignoring the sticky patches on the floor, ignoring the unkempt bedclothes, and waiting for the next knock.

  It came a few seconds later.

  “Come!” she called.

  A humanoid slipped in—a Twi’lek with one of his twin head tentacles wrapped around his neck. Sy had seen him in Jabba’s throne room earlier, she recalled, standing near the Hutt and whispering things to him. She swallowed. This was certainly her most powerful visitor so far.

  He glanced at the bed, at the line of pouches, then looked at her and smiled. It was not a pretty look, Sy thought with a little shiver.

  “You have been busy tonight,” he said. “Sixteen visitors so far. I think you can expect two, possibly three more tonight, and a few others over the next week.”

  “I was going to tell Jabba about it in the morning,” Sy began.

  “No need, my dear.” He moved closer. “I am Bib Fortuna, and one of my jobs is heading up security for Jabba. I want you to take commissions from everyone who offers you one. Inform me as you are contacted. I will let you know what news to pass on.” He drew a small pouch from his belt and handed it to her. “Jabba pays much better than piddling second-raters like these … as you will learn.”

  “Thank you,” Sy said, hardly daring to believe her good luck.

  “Think nothing of it, my dear,” Bib Fortuna said. He took one look around her room, sniffed once, and as he left, added, “The housekeeping staff is located on level three, room 212. I suggest you get the room deloused before you spend the night.”

  3. How the Band Became a Duo

  Jabba’s throne room was really grooving, Max thought. In the months they’d been playing there, things hadn’t been better. The rancor had been fed, which always made Jabba happy, Sy was wailing for all she was worth, her stomach gyrating, and the droids had just served him a pair of small Largess cakes, courtesy of Porcellus the chef.

  “Ooooh-che-nah!” she sang. “I eee-eeee-eat my young!”

  Max upped the power on the amps and went into a quick solo. Nothing like dazzling fingerwork to keep your appetite up, he thought smugly.

  A blaster sounded close by, and Max let the music fade out. What was going on? Jabba didn’t like it when blaster fights broke out. Someone would certainly feed the rancor tonight, he thought.

  A scruffy-looking bounty hunter appeared with a Wookiee in tow. “I have come for the bounty on this Wookiee,” he said.

  Jabba laughed, his whole body shaking. “At last we have the mighty Chewbacca,” he said through his new gold translator droid. “Welcome, bounty hunter. I will gladly pay you the reward of twenty-five thousand.”

  “Fifty thousand!” the bounty hunter chirped. “No less.”

  Jabba hit his droid in anger and snarled, “Why do I have to pay fifty thousand?”

  “Because I’m holding a thermal detonator!” the bounty hunter said. He held out a silver sphere. His thumb touched the button on top and the detonator activated.

  If he let go, the sphere would explode, Max knew, destroying the whole throne room and everyone in it. He covered his face. This was enough to put him off supper!

  “The bounty hunter is my kind of scum, fearless and inventive,” Jabba announced after a good laugh. Max uncovered his face. “I offer the sum of thirty-five,” Jabba said through his droid.

  “Very well,” said the bounty hunter.

  “He agrees!” cried the droid.

  As the Gamorrean guards moved forward and took the Wookiee away, Sy said, “Hit it!”

  Max gave a two-beat lead, then they launched into “Galactic Dance Blast.” It had a rhythm, was easy to play, and Max knew he wouldn’t mess it up even though his hands were trembling. A thermal detonator! At least it hadn’t gone off. He’d have extra helpings at dinner tonight, he thought, to calm his nerves.

  Jabba kept them playing for the next few hours. Something seemed to be up—something big—but Sy was too busy singing to pick up on what it was, though she listened intently.

  When Max finally shut down his organ for the evening, Sy stepped down and started for her room. Bib Fortuna caught her arm.

  “No,” he said to all of them. “Don’t break down yet.”

  “I don’t understand,” Sy said. “It’s dinnertime.”

  “Jabba’s planning a party for later tonight.”

  “But what about dinner?” Max said. “It’s in my contract!”

  “Get it if you want, but bring it back here. You’re going to sleep in the throne room tonight. Jabba’s orders.”

  Sy swallowed. “Of course,” she said, “if that’s what Jabba wants.”

  Max turned to Droopy. “Come on, let’s get some dinner. Take-out!”

  “Take-out,” the Kitonak echoed.

  “Bring me some, too,” Sy said. “And this time don’t eat it on the way back here, Max!”

  Later that evening, behind a curtain that masked the throne room from the display alcove where the smuggler in carbonite hung, Max lay listening intently. First he heard a metallic jangle, then soft footsteps as someone stole rather ineptly into the room. Then came a dull boom. He saw Jabba tense, then lean forward to look out through a small hole in the curtain.

  Suddenly Jabba began to laugh. Those closest to him laughed as well. As the curtain rolled aside, everyone was laughing, so Max joined in. At last he could see what was so funny.

  The bounty hunter who had used the thermal detonator to blackmail Jabba had set the smuggler encased in carbonite free! And beneath the mask, the bounty hunter was a beautiful woman. Her face looked familiar, Max thought. Wasn’t that Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan? But Alderaan had been destroyed years before. Hadn’t the whole royal family died as well?

  Jabba said, “So, I have finally caught up with you again, Solo. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “Hey, Jabba, look, Jabba, I was just on my way to pay you back,” the smuggler said, blinking frantically and rubbing his eyes, “and I got a little sidetracked. It’s not my fault—”

  “It’s too late for that, Solo,” Jabba said. “You may have been a good smuggler, but now you’re bantha fodder.”

  Everyone around him laughed, so Max laughed, too. No sense standing out, he thought. Food jokes were funny.

  “Look—”

  “Take him away.”

  “Jabba, I’ll pay you triple. You’re throwing away a fortune here. Don’t be a fool.”

  The guards seized the smuggler’s arms and hauled him away.

  “Now,” said Jabba, “bring her to me.” By “her” he me
ant Princess Leia.

  Two of the Gamorrean guards took Leia’s arms and led her forward toward the throne.

  “We have powerful friends,” she said as they shoved her up on Jabba’s dais. “You’re going to regret this.”

  “I’m sure,” Jabba said. He pressed his lips close to her and extended his tongue, and Max wondered if he intended to eat her.

  “Play,” Jabba commanded.

  Max dropped his cup and scrambled toward his organ.

  As the band launched into “Ode to a Radioactive Ruin,” two dancing girls stripped off Leia’s clothes and gave her a skimpy gold outfit to wear. She was a scrawny thing underneath the battle armor, Max decided, and definitely malnourished. He’d have to see if he could slip her an extra meal or three to fatten her up properly.

  It took hours for the party to die. When it finally did, everyone just lay down where they were and dozed off.

  Max still had a few small blatberry pies tucked away behind his organ. He picked one out and carried it to Jabba’s dais. There he set it next to Princess Leia, who looked at him with an unhappy expression.

  “In case you get hungry,” he said softly.

  “Thanks,” she whispered.

  He smiled a little, nodded politely, and headed for his room.

  • • •

  When he learned that Jabba planned a day trip out across the Dune Sea, Max had droids carry their instruments out to the sail barge and set them up on the lower deck. It was a beautiful cloudless day, the portals were open, and a warm breeze blew through. They’d have a great view of everyone and everything around them. Nothing like a trip to build your appetite, Max thought.

  As always, Sy showed up late. At least she was dressed and ready for work, so it didn’t really matter. Max tuned his organ while Sy did her vocal warm-up exercises, and they were ready to play. Nothing to do now, he thought, except wait for the crowds to arrive.

  Droids equipped with huge platters of food and drink were already moving into position around the deck, and Max grabbed a handful of chooca nuts as a G4 unit passed. He accepted a goblet of Chagarian ale from an R2 unit and stashed it under his organ for later.

  Toward lunchtime guests began filing aboard. They were all talking about a Jedi Knight—someone named Luke something?—whom Jabba had captured that morning. It seemed the Jedi and his friends were to be thrown to a creature out in the desert.

  Max powered up his organ and played a pleasant little instrumental ditty called “Ode to a Master Chef” which he’d written himself, wringing every nuance from the keyboard. He was in top form today, he thought. Life was great in Jabba’s palace.

  Finally Jabba himself boarded, floating out on his dais. It had repulsorlift coils underneath it, Max saw. So that was how Jabba moved about. This was the first time he’d actually seen the Hutt leave his throne room.

  And Jabba still had the princess with him.

  When Jabba settled into his place in the observation cabin, Max nodded to Sy and let her call out the next number. As the sail barge turned and headed out into the Dune Sea, the party really got going.

  An hour out, the sail barge drew to a stop. Everyone grew still, and Max let his song fade unfinished.

  All the window shutters opened and Jabba’s dais floated forward.

  “Victims of the almighty Sarlacc, His Excellency hopes that you will die honorably,” the gold translator droid said through the sail barge’s speaker system. “But should any of you wish to beg for mercy, the great Jabba the Hutt will now listen to your pleas.”

  Max strained to see what was going on outside, but there were too many people crowded around the windows and he couldn’t see. From the murmurs around him, though, he got the general idea of what was going on. It seemed the prisoners had refused to beg, insulting Jabba horribly in the process.

  Jabba only laughed. After all, Max thought, it wasn’t as if the prisoners could do anything. And he knew from long experience that Jabba didn’t often give in to begging or pleading. He liked watching people die and never showed any mercy.

  “Move him into position,” Jabba said.

  Max hopped up, straining to see, but couldn’t get more than glimpses.

  “Put him in!” Jabba commanded.

  A murmur came from everyone at the viewports, then suddenly people cried out in alarm. Max heard blaster fire and a hum like nothing he’d ever heard before, an almost electric sound that seemed to grow louder and softer in time to the blaster shots.

  Jabba howled in outrage. The window shutters closed and most of the Gamorrean guards on board headed for the top deck. Something had clearly gone wrong, Max thought. He looked at Sy.

  “What should we do?” he asked.

  “Nothing!” she said. “It’s not our problem. We’re just the band.”

  “But—”

  “Do you want to get in trouble with Jabba?” she demanded.

  Max looked around and finally spotted Jabba at the other end of the observation cabin. “No, no, no!” Jabba was shouting, gesturing with his two tiny arms. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to him.

  Suddenly Princess Leia leaped to action. She smashed the sail barge’s environment controls with her chains. The lights failed; a dusky near-darkness dropped over the passenger cabin. Max blinked and let his eyes adapt to the darkness. Princess Leia, he saw, had looped her chain around Jabba’s neck and was pulling with all her strength, bracing her legs against his huge back.

  He looked around. She shouldn’t be doing that. Where were the guards? He took a step toward Jabba, wondering if he should try to help, but Sy put a hand on his arm.

  “She’s killing him!” he said.

  “Let her,” Sy said softly. “Our contract’s with Jabba. We’ll be free once he’s dead.”

  “But it’s murder!”

  “He’s doomed anyway,” she said. “Too many people are out to get him.”

  Max felt torn up inside. His first boss. His first contract. All that food for life. How could he give up security so easily?

  Jabba suddenly lolled forward, his tongue protruding. His eyes were flat and glassy. Dead. So much for decisions, Max thought. He’d waited too long.

  But perhaps they could get a gig with Princess Leia. She was, after all, a princess. Even if she didn’t eat well, she must certainly pay well enough—his needs were modest. Just six or seven meals a day, and snacks to keep him happy.

  “Princess,” he called. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

  She was holding her chain out to one of the droids—the little R2 unit who had been serving drinks earlier. The droid cut through the chains easily.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

  “Probably not a bad idea,” Sy Snootles said in his ear.

  Max hesitated. “What about our equipment?”

  “We can always come back for it.” Sy ran to the opposite side of the observation cabin, the one facing away from the Sarlacc, and pushed open a shutter.

  Outside, Max could see one of the sail barge’s huge steering vanes.

  “Come on, Droopy,” Sy called. “Time to go!”

  Droopy followed. Max hesitated a second, gazing back at his organ, then followed. Sounds of battle still came from outside. He didn’t want to get caught in any fighting, especially if someone tried to storm the observation cabin to get to Jabba.

  A huge explosion suddenly rocked the barge. Sy almost fell out the window as the sail barge shifted. More sounds of blaster fire came from the top deck.

  “Quickly!” Sy called. “Jump!”

  “Are you crazy?” Max demanded.

  Droopy jumped without a second’s hesitation.

  “Come on, Max,” Sy said. “It’s not that far, and you can slide down the steering vane most of the way. There’s sand below. It’ll help break your fall.”

  Turning, she jumped.

  Max pushed open the shutter and looked down. It seemed like an awfully long way. He hesitated. Droopy helped Sy up. They both looked u
nhurt.

  “Jump!” Sy Snootles called. “Max—jump!”

  Something exploded behind Max, and the force of the blast was like a shove in Max’s back. He flew out the viewport, over Sy and Droopy, and hit the sand flat on his back.

  The fall stunned him. His hands and face stung, and a ringing sound filled his ears. He was distantly aware of someone picking him up and carrying him away from the sail barge, which seemed to be burning. He raised his head just in time to see the barge explode in a huge orange fireball.

  So much for their first gig, he thought. So much for their instruments. So much for his great contract.

  “Where are we going?” he managed to ask. He looked over at Sy. She had a little comlink out.

  “We have a new gig,” she said. “Working for the Lady Valarian.”

  “No,” Droopy said.

  “What?” Sy demanded. “For what she’s paying, we can get new instruments.”

  “I’m going into the desert,” Droopy said slowly. “There are brothers out there.”

  “You mean Kitonaks?” Max asked.

  “Yes,” Droopy said. “They are near. I hear them.”

  Max listened as hard as he could, and sure enough as the ringing in his ears and nose faded, he heard a distant wail like Kitonak pipes. But how could there be Kitonaks on Tatooine?

  “It’s probably just the wind,” he said. “That sound can’t be Kitonaks. What would they be doing out here?”

  “Living,” Droopy said. He set Max down, turned, and walked across the dunes without another word.

  “Well,” Sy said. “I guess that makes us a duo.”

  “The Max Rebo Duo,” Max said. He smiled. “It has a nice ring.”

  “This time,” Sy said, “things are going to be different. I’m going to negotiate the contracts.”

  “Okay,” Max said. “As long as there’s plenty of food.”

  “Or plenty of money to buy food,” she said.

  “Agreed!” He stuck out his hand. “Partners?”

  “Partners,” she agreed. Then she activated her comlink. “Lady Valarian wants us there,” she said. “Send a landspeeder to pick us up. Who? Me and my partner, of course.” Then she laughed. “Tonight? It’s a little soon, but if you can get the instruments, we can be ready.”