A few days later, something quite unexpected happened to Peli Motto: a protocol droid stopped by her shop, and hand-delivered her an invitation to a dinner party. The thing even had instructions to wait for an answer.
In Peli's world, when you wanted to have guests over, you gave them a shout about half an hour before. That level of formality was unheard of.
The invitation came from the new — well, quite uncontested now — daimyo, Boba Fett. From what little she had seen of him, such sociability surprised her but then, you can't take the lord out of the crime lord, she guessed. She also guessed that he took a fairly wide definition of reward your allies. Never one to scorn free food, she answered favourably to the droid. Besides, she might get a glimpse of the cybernetic enhancements worn by that young crowd on the flashy — but very nice — speeders. Call it professional interest.
When Peli parked her speeder in Boba Fett's palace, she was barely recognizable. Her clothes were clean, she had removed most of the grime under her nails, and she had even combed her hair. A daimyo was a daimyo; who knew what interesting ships she might fix if she got onto his retainer list? Peli Motto wasn't ambitious, in the sense that she wouldn't blow up her neighbour's hangar to boost her own business (the port authorities would object to that level of commercial negotiations), but her curiosity about any thing mechanical, and subsequent drive to improve them, was insatiable.
It wasn't, however, a mechanical piece that caught her eye when she walked into Boba Fett's throne room, but a man. He had the air of a silver desert fox about him, and carried himself with a countenance that put him beyond any other in the room. Cobb Vanth was the man's name, and Peli was the happy woman by whom he finally seated himself; and the agreeable manner in which he immediately fell into conversation, though it was only on its being a windy night, and on the probability of a dust storm, made her feel that the commonest, dullest, most threadbare topic might be rendered interesting by the skill of the speaker.
Allowing for the common demands of a full table of guests, Cobb Vanth was quite at leisure to talk to Peli, and she was very willing to hear him. She was told of his acquaintance to her Mandalorian friend when, as marshal of Freetown, they both battled a krayt dragon.
"I'm the one who sent him there," she cried. "He was looking for another Mandalorian, was that you?"
"Nah. I only had the armour." The marshal sipped his drink and made a sign of the chin towards their host. "The one he's wearing now. He wears it well, but I could have done with beskar not that long ago."
With an interrogative peep barely strangled by the pie she was stuffing in her mouth, Peli asked for more precisions. The man was more than willing to tell of the ordeal he had suffered — shot in the back by a bounty hunter as he refused to bend the neck to his demands. Still, he said, Boba Fett's generosity had been great, and he owed his life to the daimyo. With a conspirator's glance, Cobb Vanth grinned at Peli and discreetly lifted his shirt, revealing cybernetic implants.
"I'd never have been able to pay for that," he added in a low voice, tucking everything back into place. "But enough about me. How have you come to meet our host?"
With her usual gusto, Peli launched herself into an account of the battle for Mos Espa, and her — barely embellished — part in it. Her eyes shone with tremendous fire when she recalled being chased by the Scorpenek, as well as the thrill of being caught under the fire of the Pyke Syndicate. Of great interest to Cobb Vanth, however, was her meeting with the Twi'lek Kopecz Baaa-cap. He inquired as to his whereabouts since the battle; and after receiving her answer, asked in an hesitating manner how long Baaa-cap had been staying with her.
"About a month," said Peli; and then, unwilling to let the subject drop, added, "why d'you ask? You know him?"
"Yes," replied Vanth, "he comes from a good family, I think. We've had our running ins through the years."
Peli could not but look surprised.
"You're right to be surprised. Did he tell you much of what he did for the mayor of Mos Espa?"
When she didn't answer, Cobb Vanth smiled and said that he wasn't surprised.
"My word, ma'am, I've had trouble in Freetown with those damn Red Key Raiders, and much of it would've been avoided if the powers that be in Mos Espa hadn't aided them. Murderers and crooks, the whole lot of them, and his boss was more than willing to let them dock at his spaceport and give them the run of Tatooine as long as he kept his own seat. Your Twi'lek friend did all the negotiations, and really carved himself a reputation of a yellow-bellied ass-kisser."
"He's not my friend," cried Peli warmly. "I only take rent money from him, and he's so very disagreeable."
"I won't say if he's agreeable or not," said Cobb Vanth, shaking his head. "I've known him too long to be a fair judge. But I won't say I'm sorry he's not your friend. Folks are often blinded by his high manners, and see him just like he wants to be seen."
Glad to receive the praise of such a man, Peli poured him a drink and hit his glass with hers. Now that one had the bestgossip and she was going to milk that source for all it had.
"I've heard he has a sister," she said. "Is she the same?"
"Adoptive only," corrected Cobb Vanth. "Much younger. She lives off-world. You've never heard of the Baaa-cap family?"
Peli shrugged. Her neighbour explained. "They used to be respectable. The girl's parents died on Alderaan; that generation was the last that didn't do business with slave traders and their ilk. But he, he's squandered all his good education and standing, all for money, and the mayor of Mos Espa payed well. I saw the girl once. Your tenant had her dance in one of these parlours down town, when she was so young, too — you know what happens in those places. I heard she was able to leave and get to the Core, thankfully."
The information made Peli shudder. The other guests, who were laughing and enjoying themselves, could not guess the dark news the marshal had just disclosed to her. The man had kept his cool though and, not to be less dignified than him, Peli plastered a huge smile to her face. She allowed that he had given a very rational account of her tenant's disposition, and they continued talking together with mutual satisfaction till cards were produced and people scattered in smaller groups. There could then be no conversation in the noise of Boba Fett's party, but Cobb Vanth's manners recommended him to everybody. Whatever he said, was said well; and whatever he did, done gracefully. Peli went away with her head full of him. She could think of nothing but the grey-haired Marshall and of what he had told her, all the way home.
The stark beauty of the Tatooine night she saw not. The harsh freedom of the wind that pushed against her speeder she felt not as she was reminded of her long-gone youth, and when she laid down to sleep she stared at the wall until a pale dawn crept along.
As soon, the next day, as was not inconvenient, Peli rushed to her friend Galeste Lukas and related her what had passed between the Marshall and herself. Galeste listened with astonishment and concern; she knew not how to believe that the Twi'lek could be so unworthy of anyone's regard; and yet, it was not in her nature to question the veracity of a man of such good repute as Cobb Vanth. The possibility of Kopecz Baaa-cap being such an immoral creature was shocking to her tender feelings; and nothing therefore remained to be done, but to hope for some mistake in the recounting.
"Maybe the Marshall's wrong," said she, "and doesn't even know it."
"Don't be daft," scoffed Peli. "We knew Baaa-cap's ashamed of his past, and now we know why. His own sister! I can't get over it!"
"It's distressing. I don't know what to think of it."
"I beg your pardon; I know exactly what to think."
Boonta Eve, however, was close at hand, and Peli soon had other things on her mind. Although the holiday had become less popular since the death of Jabba the Hutt — it was, after all, a time for Hutt slaves to renew their vows of obedience — the Tatooine inhabitants had kept the best parts of the festival, namely the podrace and the feasts. Such was the mind of the local populace, ever pragmatic and ready to reclaim whatever suited their fancy from its unsavoury roots. Of course, the New Republic had outlawed the races, citing their death-rate as justification. It didn't deter the hardcore fans, however, who thought that a race where you didn't risk to splatter against a rock for a split-second bad decision would be boring. The only safety podracers allowed was in the perfection of their vehicles and the craft of their mechanics.
Peli Motto's renown made her a very sought-after engineer, who thus had her pick of racers. None were human — although she remembered, when she was a teen, that a young boy had not only taken part, but won the whole thing. She wondered what he had become. This year, however, she had chosen to work with an Iktotchi racer and, if she said so herself, that pod she had made for her was a thing of beauty. Test runs had been more than promising; should the pilot end up scattered over several miles, it would be her own bloody fault instead of mechanical failure. No one could shave down command lag like Peli.
Till Peli entered the racetrack of Mos Espa, and looked in vain for Cobb Vanth's tall silhouette, a doubt of his being present had never occurred to her: the Boonta Eve Classic was the event of the season. The certainty of meeting him had not been checked by the rational thought that a crowd several thousand strong could hide a man like the dunes hid dead bodies — that is, extremely well, until the worst possible moment. Peli had dressed with more than usual care with her best maroon overalls, and prepared her droids in the highest spirits for the race. But in an instant arose the dreadful suspicion of the Marshall being purposefully absent, on account of the illegality of the race, and his being an official, after all. Boba Fett, however, was there, shadowed by the vulpine Fennec Shand, and saluted her. He replied to her enquiry that the Marshall had been obliged to leave on business the day before, and was not yet returned; adding, his rough features immovable: "I don't think he would have refused my invitation to the stands, if he hadn't wished to avoid a Twi'lek you know."
Indeed, a bit further on, Peli caught a glimpse of pink headtails towering over the crowd. Every feeling of displeasure against Kopecz Baaa-cap was so sharpened by immediate disappointment, that she could hardly reply with civility to the ornate greetings he saluted her with when he reached the daimyo's side. Before she could excuse herself, Fennec Shand addressed her suddenly, asking if they could join her later on by the pit, to get a better view of the race, and Peli Motto was so taken by surprise that, without knowing what she did, she accepted. Peli therefore soon left for the pit, where her racer and her pod awaited, with a degree of ill humour that sharpened her tongue to lightsaber bite.
But Peli was not formed for ill-humour, and she quickly put the handsome Marshall (as well as the daimyo's companions) out of her mind as she gave a final tune to the podracer.
Nineteen participants, as tradition had it, were to take their place on the starting line. They heralded from various parts of the Galaxy; they all had had their podracers adjusted to the rough Tatooine conditions, and boasted skill beyond average. Peli Motto's Iktotchi wasn't a favourite, but she liked the woman's attitude, whose thick horns and flat forehead showed great determination. The Iktotchi had also smuggled a blaster — in case of a Tusken attack, of course — and Peli admired such foresight.
Just before the race started, Peli's personal space was breached by that unlikely trio headed by Boba Fett. While Kopecz Baaa-cap gingerly stood back, seemingly afraid to get too close to the track, Fett and his lieutenant approached. While Peli had never been one to be impressed by authority, she had to admit that having the daimyo in her pit was a honour — one that was bound to bring her a fair amount of credits, if she hustled right.
Podracers were, one by one, turned on. The deep hum of the engines rumbled into one's bones, and the pungent smell of exhaust fumes started to rise. It had always been the daimyo's privilege to start the race; the great lodge might be empty, but Boba Fett wouldn't relinquish the occasion. He lifted a blaster from his side, aimed with one eye closed, and shot at the gong, high on the other side of the grandstands. The crowd cheered, in a deafening roar that nearly drowned out the podracers. A mere second later, all were gone, faster than the wind.
The set up had been improved since Jabba's days: huge holoscreens, raised on the middle of the stands, enabled spectators to follow the race beyond the customary live comment. This allowed all to witness the first podracer to explode after it had hit a rocky outcrop. Not even the Jawas would be able to salvage a thing from the wreck. A flying scrap of burning metal then got caught in another's engine, shutting down the precarious energy binder's link and leaving a small Rodian pilot stranded as his craft spiraled away from course and one of his engines crashed against a cliff. Peli hollered: two down, sixteen to go. Her own Iktotchi was going carefully about this first lap, and Peli relaxed. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Kopecz Baaa-cap, who appeared to be the only forlorn soul within a radius of twenty miles, and her cheeky nature got the best of her resolve.
"Why the long face, Kopecz," she shouted. "Were you a fan of the Rodian? At least he ain't dead!"
He tried to smile, and assured her that the Rodian was none of his friends, before tentatively saying he had no clue Peli would be there.
"You're no telepath, what a surprise. That's something we got in common then."
He made no answer at first, which Peli thought uncharacteristic, until he remarked the daimyo had truly distinguished her by choosing to watch the race from her pit stand.
"Quality knows quality," she retorted with a snarky grin. "He's only got the best around him. Why weren't you invited at his fancy party, I thought it was for all those who fought in Mos Espa that day? Dank farrik, I even spoke with that pretty Marshall from Freetown who wasn't even there! He knew you!"
A deeper shade of chagrin overspread Baaa-cap's features, but he said not a word, and Peli, though blaming herself for her own weakness, could not go on. At length he spoke, and in a constrained manner said: "The daimyo is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends — whether his new entourage is entirely savoury, is less certain."
The Twi'lek made no further answer; Peli was spared from the necessity of changing the subject by the first wave of podracers screaming their way through the end of the first lap. Her Iktotchi pulled up; she was fourth, and one of her engines made a hiccupy noise. While Peli quickly checked the parameters, a nimble droid pulled out a sand rat, burnt to a crisp, from an exhaust vent. That seemed to make it; Peli barely had time to jump away before the podracer's acceleration left nothing but a potent trail of ozone behind.
At that moment Bobba Fett appeared close to them, meaning to take a stroll through the pits and congratulate the other teams; but on perceiving Kopecz Baaa-cap he stopped with a nod to ask him if he enjoyed the race.
"I have been most highly gratified indeed by your invitation, lord Fett. Such very superior sport is not often seen. It is evident that you shall bring Tatooine to the first circles."
Boba Fett chuckled. Perhaps he knew not how to respond, for he called Fennec Shand with a raised hand, and walked away. The woman, however, had other things in mind, and accosted Peli with civil disdain as the Twi'lek retreated to the shade.
"So, mistress Motto, I hear you were quite delighted with Cobb Vanth. Some friendly advice: don't believe a word that comes out of his pretty mouth. He's playing his own game there, but I'm playing mine, and none of these are your business."
"Boba Fett must trust him," said Peli angrily, "to pay for the implants that saved his life. Are you going against your boss?"
"I beg your pardon," replied Fennec Shand. "I didn't know you were into politics. Excuse my interference: it was kindly meant."
With a huff, Peli sat down on a crate to watch the race as the former bounty hunter left. She chewed on some interesting insults until the third, and then second, contestants suffered tragic mechanical failure that could have come from a strategically placed blaster shot. It would have needed to be fired in one of those very few parts of the track where no drone could film anything — which would be nigh impossible. Fate therefore so willed Peli's Iktotchi to climb up to the second place, where she hang for dear life as another racer tried to push her off track in the third, and last, lap. Alas, too busy was he that he never saw the cliff, and crashed, too. Victory was long gone — Peli would need to get her hands on the winner's engines, as she was dying of curiosity about his fuel injectors — but the Iktotchi got a very honorable second place on the podium. Of the nineteen contestants, only ten finished the race, and five were left for dead: a grand year, in the general view. As the stands emptied, Peli saw no more trace of Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, or Kopecz Baaa-cap. Still, she hoped to find him home in the morrow, for rent would be due.