The planet made his blood boil.
He realized it would be no vacation as soon as he got off the liner. The star was on its way to becoming a supernova, and the planet had first-row seats. If not for the shield of heavy beige clouds, not even mammals would survive this.
The heat seemed scorching inside the terminal, but Amasr underestimated Kunjagi I. He stepped outside, and it got worse.
Taste of the things to come, no doubt.
Modosh had been waiting for him — in the safety of an AC-fitted hovercar.
"How do you like the weather?" he asked as Amasr got in.
"Makes me want to kill myself."
"Wait till you meet Fardalla."
Modosh had changed. Grown old and pale of scale. Amasr knew he was doing no better.
The hovercar drove down the two-sided ramp connecting the spaceport and the ground level. Potted palms decorated the balustrade, brown and desaturated like the air itself.
Modosh's squinting at him didn't escape Amasr's attention.
"You've grown slow," Amasr told him.
"Still fast enough to kill you, brother."
"You should've done it way back in the nest, then. This heat isn't good for you."
"It'll get to you too."
The ritual being done, Amasr returned to sightseeing. Kunjagi I offered little in terms of that. Just a few clicks away from the spaceport, it started showing what it had, what it really had: growths upon growths of ugly little hovels covering the crater side as far as the eye could see in every direction.
And Amasr's eye still could see far.
"What a sad little place," he said.
"It will get livelier when the Cup starts."
"Don't tell me you're a fan now."
"No. Never. Nothing but podracing for me."
"When are they starting?"
"In four standard days. There," Modosh nodded at an egg-shaped building on the horizon.
"I see where all the money went."
"Money? There wasn't any to begin with. Kunjagi is a shithole. The only money here comes when the Hutt comes. Well, the Hutt and his friends."
"He's been treating you well, this Fardalla?"
"He's been paying me enough for me not to leave and talking with enough respect for me not to measure how thick his layer of fat is."
"A shame."
"What? To end my career like this?"
Modosh was grinning, but it hit closer to home than Amasr cared to admit. His brother might be two years older, but he'd be fifty in less than a year, too. And he could feel it already: he could not lift as much as he used to and his joints ached every time there was going to be a rain.
He was in luck, though. Rains were unlikely on Kunjagi I. If those clouds were to give birth to anything, it'd be a toxic vapor that burned as good as it suffocated.
"We were the terror of Kashyyyk," Amasr said. Them, and another half-thousand groups of hunters. "Only for it to come to this."
"Well, it had to come to something." Modosh shrugged. The hovercar swerved. "Now, be straight: our times are incompatible with dying in battle. I mean, legendary-like. If you die in battle now, you don't end up in a song. You end up in a news bulletin. That's if you're lucky."
"So you decided to die here?" In truth, the ritual was never done.
"I decided to live here. For now. I hit sixty, I go back to Hsskhor."
"And die there."
"Damn right I will. Not before seeing you kick it, though."
"The only thing you'll see me kick will be your empty skull."
Modosh cackled. An unpleasant sound. How could Amasr forget? "The only time you'll have enough courage to kick it will be when it's empty. What about you? What's your plan?"
"To get paid for whatever nonsense you got me into and leave this hellhole."
"That's the spirit."
The hotel downtown Modosh drove them to carried signs of long gone grandeur. It must be a right glamorous place back when the hovels hadn't metastasized.
All Amasr cared about was a cold bath, though. He took it as his brother watched.
"I'd rather go without clothes in this climate," he complained from the tub.
"Fardalla won't care, since he's a Hutt, but Fardalla's partners will, and so Fardalla will care. Put on your overalls and don't make a scene."
"His partners? Aren't they all Hutts or Hutt-lickers?"
"The Cup organizers aren't. They are an Imperial company, imagine that."
"No shit?" Amasr pulled himself up with a splash.
"What did you think they fought the war over?"
"What, smashball?"
"Money. And on Kunjagi, money follows smashball."
"I thought you said it followed the Hutts."
"It's a circle. Money follows smashball so Hutts follow smashball so they get the money."
"That's not what a circle means, you hotbrain."
"Get out before you freeze your brain off. We got places to be."
The coolness granted by the bath dissipated the moment Amasr was out of the water. He did put his overalls on, causing another cackle.
"You live here?" he asked his brother as they rode the elevator down.
"Most of the time, no. I'm always welcome in Fardalla's compound."
"And you're eager to take him up on the offer? Sad."
Modosh cackled some more. "You haven't forgotten me. No, of course I don't live with the fat slug. I have another place east of the stadium, in the old town."
Fardalla's compound was another landmark. Perched high upon the northern slope of the crater, it was the usual Huttese mess of tube-like buildings. In the sea of hovels, it was a more pleasant sight than Amasr wanted to admit.
A Nikto guard waved them through. The hovercar struggled with the angle, and Amasr got an extra second to look at the toy the Nikto was packing.
"Some serious heat," he said. "As if the weather's not enough."
"Ah, that? That's how you cope with running the smallest Besadii syndicate."
"They have this sort of firepower, what do they need us for?"
"I'll let Fardalla do the talking."
Smallest or not, Fardalla's syndicate ruled Kunjagi I — and had no second thought about flaunting it. The hall another guard took them through was so golden Amasr's eyes started to hurt. It was just a warmup before the audience chamber, however.
Fardalla lied on a cushioned dais, two slaves fanning him furiously. He was a small Hutt by the standards of the species — if Modosh committed to measuring the thickness of his fat, he'd be disappointed, no doubt.
"The great Fardalla welcomes you," he said in Huttese. "We are most pleased with your visit, fearsome hunter."
His voice was flat and nothing like the proper Hutt rumble.
Amasr's bow was exactly as low as the situation demanded. "I'm honored to stand in front of you."
"A refreshment, perhaps?"
"Of course."
The slave took a minute to bring a cart with cocktails and awfully made sandwiches, and all the while Fardalla remained silent, eyeing Amasr with his small golden eyes. Amasr's head was beginning to hurt now, too.
"Your brother has told us about you," the Hutt continued when Amasr picked up a glass. The straw was too long for it, but Amasr kept it to himself.
"There is a lot to tell," he agreed.
"Your exploits in the Clone Wars have greatly amused us. We know what a fearsome hunter you are."
Amasr's bow was more genuine this time.
"They call you the Cannibal," Fardalla stated.
"I never ate no Trandoshan."
The Hutt licked his lips. "As you know, we are to hold the grandest event in this part of the Outer Rim. The 84th Slice League Smashball Championship. Do not let those cheap bastards from Gyndine fool you. This is the real Slice League. The stadium cost the planet more than two billion credits in Imperial money."
Amasr was sure a good part of it had ended up in this very palace.
"They thought they could pressure the great Fardalla into concessions now that they are an Empire. Har! We showed them what Kunjagi is worth! Now they have to make concessions to us. We do not care if it is the Republic or the Empire."
"Most commendable."
"We will hold the Championship no matter what. And they will see it! Yes, they will. The Deputy Overseer of Mimban is coming. He is the next in line to be promoted to the sectoral governor, by all accounts. Retired athletes — from all kinds of leagues. Movie stars. Very important people — with very refined tastes."
Amasr was done with his cocktail in just two swallows, but the cart slave had left taking the cart with him, so he could not get another drink nor place his glass anywhere but on the floor. He decided against that.
"This is why we are bringing Teso Submakiri in." Fardalla paused, visibly proud of himself.
Amasr could do nothing more than a slight bow.
"He is with the Pykes," Modosh explained. "Their agent when we're talking about… sizable parties."
"Very sizable!" the Hutt bellowed.
"It's him you need me to protect?" Amasr asked.
"Officially. But in truth… we cannot help but fear what he might do. He's got quite a reputation."
"Seldom thinks before acting," said Modosh.
Amasr nodded. "The most dangerous type of man."
"My point exactly. We need him safe, yes… but we also need him under control. He will be selling his produce to a lot of powerful and rich people. Some of them are very volatile — just like he is."
"I see."
"The Championship will take forty-eight standard days. I'm willing to pay, based on your reputation, two thousand credits per day without an incident."
"If he is so volatile, it's going to be higher than that."
"Higher?"
"Five thousand a day."
Fardalla threw his little arms up. "Five thousand is outrageous. Others will do it cheaper."
"Do as you will." Amasr shrugged. The prospect of spending this night — this night already — out of this hell was very calming.
He half-turned to leave when the Hutt coughed.
"Maybe… out of respect to your brother… we could arrive at another sum?"
Modosh stepped closer. "I'm sure there's an agreement to be found."
"Well," Amasr turned back to the Hutt, "out of respect to you, I'm willing to listen to another offer."
"Three thousand?"
Amasr wanted to reject it, but something made him bite his tongue. He imagined almost two months here. He imagined Modosh's quips if he'd made the trip only to go right back. Both made his head hurt even more.
Just keeping a Pyke on a leash didn't sound that bad. He bet most of the time they'd be in air-conditioned buildings, though the hotel had been a poor sign.
"Three thousand a day is good money," he said.
Fardalla offered him to stay at the compound, but Amasr declined. Modosh drove him back to the hotel. Kunjagi I had gotten no cooler.
The next day — days were much shorter than standard here, driving him insane — two of Fadralla's henchmen brought him a blaster. They handed it over to him with such precaution as if it was a nuclear detonator. Still, it was a SC-15, a custom job to suit a Trandoshan hand. It made Amasr feel much better.
They cooked alright at the hotel. Nothing fancy, but he liked some of the local eggs. "From the other side of the crater," the droid dispenser told him.
He went out a day later — a real day. The street his hotel stood in was in a good enough shape, but slums started no more than meters away from it. Ramshackle houses climbed the crater slope, pushing each other with the same homebrew hate the locals did to get in your face and sell you their trinkets, magic potions, or children.
What they didn't sell was their damn balls. Everyone in the city owned one by the looks of things and ten by the sounds. Bam bam bam BAMM — there was no more getting away from their incessant dribbling than from the heat. Amasr would very much like to shoot some of them, preferably all — but Fadralla had only given him one spare clip. Still, it was fun to imagine things.
Fun? Maybe, but the more he thought about it, the sadder he got. He, whose roar Wookiees had feared at least within a forty kilometer radius from Sarwaaro, reduced to fantasizing about shooting unwashed scum and their smashballs.
There was some solace to find in the fact Modosh lived here, Amasr supposed.
His brother called him the evening before the Championship opened. "Meet me at my place." He named the address.
The outside was stupefyingly hot — as always — but seeing his brother was at least something to do. Kunjagi I was nothing if not burning except for, perhaps, maddeningly boring.
Modosh's apartment building sat in what passed for an avenue here. In truth, it was a dirty street like any other. The building itself, though no less dirty, had the same charm of a powdered corpse the hotel did.
Modosh was waiting for him on the rooftop. Behind the low orange clouds, the sun was preparing to set. It promised another stuffy night that would flow into another boiling day.
"Enjoying the view?" Amasr asked.
"I enjoy many things. Views aren't one of them."
Amasr walked to the edge and leaned on the parapet. "Annoying me is. What do you want?"
"Yet you came at my first whistle."
"We're brothers, aren't we?"
Modosh grinned. "That we are. That's why I called you." Amasr said nothing, and so he continued: "Did you like Fardalla's offer?"
"Well enough to stay, as you see."
"That's what, hundred and fifty thousand?"
"A bit less. If there are no incidents."
"Exactly. How about there's a little incident and your pay rises?"
"How much?"
"Maybe twelve mil."
Amasr wanted to laugh, but the very thought of Modosh joining him made him cringe. "And what kind of incident?" he asked.
"Fardalla keeps several kilos of electrum in his panic room. I happen to know a guy who knows the codes. When the Cup starts, Fardalla's going to spend most of his time there." Modosh pointed at the ovum of the stadium. "Most of his guard, too. A prestige thing."
"I agreed to work for him. So did you."
"My agreement's worth less than twelve million. Yours?"
"What, we just waltz in and steal it?"
"More or less."
"Less. It's always less."
"That's why I need you." Modosh rested the small of his back against the parapet.
"I mean, we could do it."
"And we should."
Amasr pronged a piece of meat stuck between his teeth with his claw. "When I'm done with the contract. Once the smashball ends—"
"No. Five days, tops. The electrum isn't going to sit in the vault forever."
Amasr didn't reply.
"Think about it," Modosh said. "That's a lot of money. If you don't need it, think of our sister's hatchlings."
"You always said they should make their own way like we did."
"That's why they won't see a decicred out of my share. You are free to do as you please with yours."
Amasr clicked his teeth. "Why did you get me to take the Hutt's proposition first?"
"Since when does a Hutt matter more to you than your own brood brother?"
"I don't give a marrowless bone about the Hutt. What I care about is my word."
"On this planet, it makes you the only one. Hell, in the Slice even." Modosh kept looking at him, waiting for Amasr to give in, but then sighed out of the pause. "You're making a big mistake."
"No. You are. If you do it, they'll get me, and I won't stay silent."
"That what your word is worth?"
"That's what my life is worth."
For a moment, it seemed as if his brother would leap at him, but the fire in Modosh's eyes subsided.
The heat persisted.
"You're a damn fool," Modosh said. "You're stripping us both of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." He started walking towards the roof access. "Hope you enjoy your hundred and fifty thousand… or a bit less."