When the serving girl came near, Kregg leaned out to tap her on the shoulder. She dignified with him a fake smile before setting a glass of frothing brown ale before him. He gave it a sniff and then choked it down. Pisswater, some Toydarian junk. They've never got anything from back home. The sound of steel toes clacking across the floor set his nerves to fraying. What kind of trouble did these two slackwits get me into? He closed his eyes.
The butt of a vibrostaff slamming into the floor snapped his eyes open again. Before him stood a Weequay, clad toe to neck in armored plate. His exposed face was brown and wrinkled the same as Kregg's seat. The gilded blade on his staff chewed up the red lights from above and spat them in all directions. Five Nikto flanked him, dressed in a ragged assemblage of boiled leather. The leather neckguards that dangled from their skullcaps never failed to make Kregg laugh. They love their floppy rabbit ears.
"Ah, Ak-Gar, how nice to see you." Kregg forced a smile. "I don't suppose you've come to give me the good news." When the Hutt sends a headsman, is it ever?
The Weequay drew his eyes even tighter. Two of his ritual braids were draped over each shoulder, and a third hung limp at his back. He raised the shaft of his glaive and pounded it into the floor again. "Hutt King speaks, you listen," Ak-Gar said in strained Huttese. His voice was little more than a whispered scream. Kregg had first thought it one of the headsman's quirks. He met enough Weequay on Narsh to learn it was a universal trait.
Kregg snorted. "Let him fekkin' speak then."
The Weequay grabbed a disk from his belt and slid it down the table. Kregg caught it with a finger before it could speed past. It let out a little buzz, then a beep, and then a whir before spewing forth a beam of dull blue light, turned dimmer still by the wash of red from above. It coalesced into an image of the Fat Minister and his attendants in the midst of revelry.
"Ah, my favorite smuggler," the Hutt boomed. "It is good to speak once again, yet I wish it could be face-to-face."
"Yeah, yeah, achuta to you too." Kregg rolled his eyes. And they say the holograph is supposed to make you shed ten kilos. Durgulla looked even larger than Kregg remembered. "Though the chains do get in the way of that, methinks."
"I forget nothing." The Fat Minister laughed so hard the whole of him roiled. "I know you've broken your chains. But you don't leave. Curious." He stuck out a Huttlet-sized arm and pawed at a platter holding a slab of misshapen meat. He ripped it in two, letting half slip down his gullet and foisting the other at a Twi'lek slave Kregg had never seen before. "The great smuggler Marcus Kregg," he said through a full mouth. "Look at what you've been reduced to: a coward who'd rather rot than attempt escape. Where's your sense of adventure gone?" An attendant offered him a pipe, and the Fat Minister let him slip it into his gaping maw. When his lips tightened and he took a puff, the Hutt's eyes rolled back into his head as he groaned in ecstasy.
Well, actually my sense of adventure is rotting somewhere in your slave pens. "What do you want now, really? Ain't your fashion to come sniffing around after me just to shoot the shite."
The Hutt twiddled his fingers across his chest. "What if I let slip that Marcus Kregg cavorts with Jedi? Would more come to my moon, sully my streets? Perhaps if they take your head back to the Core with them, it won't be so bad." Durgulla licked his lips and smiled.
"Now you're talking nonsense, you fat bastard." One of the Nikto grunts smacked Kregg in the back of his head with their blaster. He swore and cradled the wounded spot. "Jedi don't come here, you and I both know it."
"Bah!" He overturned a cauldron full of squirming chuba towards Kregg. "Moonsunder. You know this name."
No, I don't. "That one o' your gals telling stories again?"
"I will have your head!"
At once, three of the Nikto grabbed Kregg and slammed him face-first into the table. He winced as they twisted his arms behind his back. Ak-Gar approached, both hands on his ugly glaive. He leveled it out and brought it down, stopping a hair's breadth away from the nape of Kregg's neck.
The music stopped and all the chatter in the Viridian Slug died. A thousand eyes were looking over at the scene, all waiting with ravenous hunger for a drop of blood.
Me and my stupid fekkin' mouth. "You listen to me, Hutt, I do not know that name." Kregg's eyes bounced from side to side in panic. "Throw me a bone here, help me out. First name? Clothing? Appearance? Anything at all. I don't know no fekkin' Jedi."
The Fat Minister laughed like rolling thunder. The henchmen released Kregg, but he kept his face pressed firm against the metal table. He saw what looked like the glimmer of sadness in Ak-Gar's eyes as the Weequay brought his weapon back to his side. As if nothing ever happened, the Viridian Slug sprang back to life, music blaring and the guests returning to their conversations.
"Blind and old, you've become," the Fat Minister said as a servant presented him with a sampler platter. He snatched up a giant frog, and Kregg heard the thing crunch as the Hutt snapped it up. "How could you not see they are Jedi? They wear the robes. Arvis saw the lightsabers at their belts." He belched and spat up bones. "A woman with golden hair, a boy with hair like yours. She claimed him to be her nephew. Lya Moonsunder, she said her name was. She asked after you in particular."
Well, I never got her name. With the headsman's blade far gone, Kregg straightened himself back up. "See how much easier this is when you give me information?"
"Don't push your luck, smuggler."
What would my life be if I didn't? "Did you ask the boy which of his parents made sweet, tender love with an iriaz?"
The Fat Minister groaned, but Kregg could hear some of his court chuckle. "He was long-faced. So you did speak with these Jedi."
And you're making me regret it. "What did they ask of you?"
"To release you from your obligations." The Fat Minister's massive tongue swept over his mouth. He shouted at a servant, then turned his attention back to Kregg. "I gave them a bargain that only a Jedi would accept."
"She doesn't seem so foolish," Kregg said. Of course, confidence can be deceiving.
"Too damned cautious," the Hutt said. Two servants dragged a heavy cauldron forward and lifted it towards his mouth. The violent sound of his slurping was enough to make Kregg gag. "But her whelp is an insolent brat. He made it too easy."
As young men often are, Kregg thought. He recalled his smuggling days, fleeing the great gunships and galleys of the Republic fleet after stealing from their spice mines. A trio of Jedi had followed him in their interceptor into an asteroid field. He tried hiding on the back of an asteroid, an old trick tha had served him well before. It didn't fool the Jedi, though, and they gave chase. Moments later, a colossal worm shot forth from another asteroid deeper in the field. As it opened its maw, Kregg slammed his ship into lightspeed and heard the squelch of the worm's meaty flesh torn asunder, but not before he heard the smashing of steel amidst mountainous chitin teeth. He never knew how many were caught in the creature's teeth. Might be the other two finally come for revenge.
"Aye, he seemed such," Kregg said. "So they accepted, big deal. What did you tell 'em?"
The Fat Minister's eyes narrowed. "So many questions. I ought have you killed, your head on a spike dangling in my parlor. I think my guests would like that."
"I should start charging you credits every time you say that." I'd have enough to buy a new ship by now.
"Bah." The Fat Minister spat great chunks of spittle and slobber. He laughed, deep and low. "I was truthful, as always. 'Bring me the head of Mandalore to protect our trade routes. Give me a lightsaber as assurance of your fealty.' They refused to hand one over, so instead they will see my menagerie."
And I know damn well they didn't understand a word of that queer fekkin' accent of yours. Ever since Kregg fell into his debt, he had made it a point to understand the Fat Minister's words. Even his own fluency in Huttese hadn't been good enough to spare him from his fate. "The same trick you used to nab me. Very sneaky."
"I told you what would happen." He pulled a chain and beckoned a slave forward. He stuck out his tongue and licked her face.
Kregg grimaced. "The Jedi could be useful to you, yet you'd have them killed. If the other Hutts weren't so scared of blood, you'd already be lying in a pool of it, squandering a resource like that."
The Fat Minister lulled his head back, at least as much as he could. A servant slid the hookah pipe back into his mouth. With a sharp breath, he sucked the smoke in before letting it plume out. "Bad for business," he said as the servant took the pipe away. "My newest pet hungers. I have thrown all manner of food at it for six months, and yet still it wastes away."
Rumor had it - and gossip was rarely without truth on Narsh - that the Fat Minister had a menagerie of beasts, impish and freakish alike, living in the underbelly of his palace. Kregg had been fortunate to never see it, but he was well aware of a beast that lived below the Hutt's throne. Thing can topple a Nagai, I don't think the Jedi stand a much better chance. "Tell me, is it a rancor? I thought you already had one."
"Much more exotic." The Hutt's mouth twisted into a smile. "I'll have the feeding filmed for your pleasure."
Kregg laughed. "No, I don't think so. Is there anything else you needed?" Or are you just here to rub my face in poodoo? He bit his tongue to keep the last part unsaid.
The Fat Minister's nostrils flared. "One more thing. I will speak in the forum tomorrow, to introduce my city to my newest jewel." He pulled a chain towards him, and the Twi'lek girl from earlier stepped back into the frame. The Fat Minister wrapped a meaty arm around her in a grotesque embrace. "I trust I will see you there."
"It ain't a matter of trust. If you're bringing it up, I know I don't got a fekkin' choice." Kregg scratched at his beard and leaned back in his chair. "Gimme a time."
"You will know." The hologram faded out and Ak-Gar snatched up the disk. He secured it to his belt, slammed his glaive into the floor, and led his squad out. Kregg's eyes followed them until they vanished into the hallway. Good riddance, at least for a while. The same serving girl from before came his way again, and he got himself another drink. Same damn pisswater again. He choked it down and shut his eyes.
"Kregg."
He heard a woman's voice from nearby and his eyes shot open. Our little Jedi girl. She came alone this time. Her hood was drawn over her face so that only her mouth was visible. Her lips twisted, curled, and pursed; each movement was a word that remained unsaid.
"Little birdy says you spoke to The Fat Minister," he said with a wry little smile. "Moonsunder." He chuckled. "Silly name, almost as silly as that farce of a bargain he tells me you've made."
She scowled beneath her hood. "Do not make me regret asking you for aid."
"It just so happens you're the only one who even has a chance of setting me free." Many have tried, though none were ever Jedi. "We have a mutual enemy here. Perhaps a mutual goal, too, in the form o' getting off this rock. But if we're gonna work together, I'm gonna need some upfront honesty."
She drew down her hood and shook out her golden hair. Not bad at all to look upon. Her eyes were wracked at the sockets by burgundy splotches. Someone's been having a rough night.
"I need a name, first of all," he said. The tendrils of pity welling up in him were the last thing he needed. The one who deserves all my pity's in the grabbing hands of that Hutt. I don't have enough to go around between two of you.
She chewed on a pursed lip. "Lysara Synder."
"Close enough." She's bluffing, another Jedi alias. The closer he looked at her face, though, the more familiar it seemed. Probably nothing. Kregg smiled. "Funnily enough, I just got done speakin' with the overgrown worm right before you got here. They told me everything about what happened in the palace. You got yourself in a bind, that can't be left unsaid, I'm afraid. But let's see what we can do about it, eh?" He leaned back in his chair and his face scrunched up in thought. His eyes were drawn to the holonews screen just overhead, near the bar. No way in Corellian Hell. "Before we get to the chatter though, might I suggest you turn 'round and watch the news?"
She looked at him like he was stupid, but she turned her head to face the screen regardless. Kregg kicked a lever under the table. Audio crackled to life from a speaker nestled in its leg.
"...now directing your attention to the Mid Rim, reports are showing the formation of a blockade over the jungle of Malastare. Our men on the ground are live from the outskirts of Pixelito, where they've been told by several eyewitnesses that the barony of Jedi Lord Tartha Ix has been razed. Next up, one such eyewitness account."
A Dug appeared on the screen, speaking fast and loose in his own tongue. A deadpan news reader dubbed him over, stripping all the color from his words.
"The Mandalorians fell out of the sky like a meteor shower, landing their hulking war droids behind the walls of the keep. The whole thing went up in smoke, bodies everywhere, fire everywhere. The baroness came out, her laser sword a great green light, and cut her way through the marauders. But then, a great big one in red and yellow came over on his droid, charging at her...
The screen wiped the Dug away and went back to the newsroom, with the newsreader cutting off the narration.
"Unfortunately, the remainder of this eyewitness account has been deemed by the Holonet authority as ill-suited for public broadcast.
"Returning to the Core, the Senate hearing today will focus on a new bill that will determine the Republic's next course of action concerning this Mandalorian menace. The debate is purportedly tearing a rift between the Chancellor's Office and the Jedi Council, whose High Consular Marvis has stated that they will take the war effort into their own hands should the Republic elect not to mobilize. Supreme Chancellor Crix stated in an address before the Senate tonight that any Jedi who goes to war without the explicit permission of the Senate will be stripped of their lands and titles, and branded a traitor. More from our team on Coruscant..."
Kregg kicked the lever again and the audio cut off. Synder turned back to him. "There you have it, they're on Malastare," he said. He clasped his hands together and twiddled his thumbs. "Three days' flight from here if you stick to the lanes. I doubt that Tartha Ix was the only baroness on that planet, so they might linger a while hunting for more to burn."
"I appreciate it," Synder said, getting to her feet.
"Wait a minute," Kregg said. She stopped in her tracks, but didn't turn to face him. "You're already walking into one trap with the Mandos, you sure you want to play this game with the Hutt too?"
"Two wayward Force-attuned and a smuggler." She laughed. "I think we can handle a bloated Hutt. What is the corrupt bargain, anyhow?"
He lost his words. "Never mind me, I'm drunk and rambling. You best get going." Maybe it's better if she doesn't know yet.
Synder shrugged and drew up her hood before walking out. Like I just lifted a weight off her shoulders, he thought as he watched her leave. That's the swagger of a woman on a mission. Like Xira.
Kregg sighed and looked down at the thin link of laser wire that still bound him to his table. He gave it a sharp kick with the toe of his boot. The emitter sputtered, let out a pathetic little whine, and shut off. He stood up at once and walked over to the bartender.
"Got any rum?" Kregg laid his hands across the countertop. The Klatooinian nodded wordlessly and moved to pour a glass. "No, no, don't waste your time. The whole thing. Just stick it on the big guy's tab. I'm his anyhow." That made the bartender chortle. He set an ornate glass bottle in between Kregg's hands.
"Take the cup, anyway," the bartender said. "Ain't worth bringing the cleaning droid back here to scrub up the mess if you try chugging the whole thing."
"I'm a Fondorian, it's like water to me," Kregg said as he took the bottle in his hands. "But I'll sip at it like they do on Byss, just for you."