Right. Probably better if we hadn't flown off that planet, seriously. There's a girl, there's food, even a drinking buddy, but no. Eh...
I hadn't even managed to return to duty before a pile of business fell on my head. There Yuri asks for a contract for familiarization, plus bringing him up to speed. Here Derick demands to finally register the transport company, otherwise selling ore through the TF is very expensive. Though, looking at the profit received, I couldn't believe my eyes. Who did Trik manage to foist our goods on?! Ah, doesn't matter.
On top of what's already there, the Jawas are also causing a stir, gathering more and more ships from all over the desert. We need to deal with this, and here I am... I don't know myself. Either call repairmen, or for smelting, or sell to museums... Oh! Nerra! Stop, where are you turning, come here. Yes, come here. Here's a task for you—they've organized a ship warehouse there, take some guys and go see what the Jawas have dug up and where it's better to place it! Don't make that face, or I'll send you to help Talia sort papers! There, that's better...
So, what else? Aha... The recruitment companies hired earlier have written messages with possible candidates... whom I simply have no time to deal with, because Mandalorians are crowding in from Concord Dawn. Literally crowding, in the literal sense of that word. When I saw my office, I was twice stunned. First by its size, and then by the number of those wishing to join our PMC right now. Ours, like true Mandalorians, assembled Basilisks from delivered parts on the first day, took photos against their background, and sent them home. Ye-e-eah... I think further comments will be simply superfluous.
And I'll note that at the moment we simply physically don't have such an organization as the "Private Military Company—RAVEN." We have documents, but no headquarters, no supply, no equipment, absolutely no-thing. We also don't have normal supply for the Mandalorians working for TNC. Or rather, we do, but on the principle: "everything you buy, we'll pay for." But that's it!
Plagueis also remembered me. The Muun warned me to be more careful, as the porridge I'm brewing is beginning to attract more and more attention. Thanks, as if I hadn't noticed!
I don't even want to remember the fact that some strange and murky individuals who know more about my past than the entire Jedi and Sith orders combined were looking for a meeting with me. Talia, my Sweetheart, looking at all this, with her hand on her heart... cleared out. Since we f*cking need to open new firms, and sort through staff for them, Talia took pity and took that matter upon herself. I need to urgently deal with RAVEN, decide on a headquarters, set up logistics, and so on and so forth... because an uncontrolled crowd of Mandalorians is truly scary and it's better to place them somewhere immediately. And I even know where!
The Pykes have just expressed a desire to meet with me. A personal invitation directly to the palace on their home planet—Oba Diah. In the invitation itself was one small catch. In case of refusal, they promised me heavenly punishments and a return visit of courtesy, so to speak, to point out my place, because, you see, we've blocked an entire trade route for them. Well, well.
While there is no visit, I've temporarily placed the Mandalorians in the city on the rights of police. Vainly. Very vainly. Just f*cking terrible. Because after that Warren, along with his sister, immediately took their comrades in hand and explained the local party policy to them. They told them that RAVEN doesn't take just anyone, that they need to show, or better prove, that they are not only a worthy warrior but also champion our cause. For starters, they could show their disposition by performing service on the city streets. Never on the streets of Mos Eisley, Mos Espa, Mos Enta, and Mos Gamos had it been so quiet and peaceful! Seriously, even smugglers started shying away from us, it turns out.
And to hell with the smugglers, but the Mandalorians have gotten it into their heads that RAVEN is the new Mandalore, or something like that. Like, through this movement their home and people as a whole will gain new strength, etc. No, they're right, I'm trying for that, but fck me, I'm not going to hand out trials for joining the organization! I vainly, apparently, blurted out an "trial" back at the ship boarding... It came back to haunt me, fck! So now there is a whole crowd of those thirsting to pass the trial and join our movement, and Warren, the bastard, also adds fuel to the fire. Well, wait until I get him!
But there's no ill without good. Tron, sent for information, was able to explain what's going on with the Hutts, namely: the Hutt Council has long set its sights on Tatooine, as the planet has a strategic location in the Outer Rim and sits on a quite large trade route. After we occupied the planet, the slugs first laughed. When business went uphill, they stopped laughing, but became worried. Now the Hutts are seriously looking askance at the business going on in our garden. Interestingly, their concern isn't even that they can't protect us—the Mandalorians are excellent at beating back that desire. And not that they can't control space, collecting duties from passersby. But that we can easily block the smuggling channels. Through our space, for a second, at least five to seven thousand ships pass in a day, a quarter of which are traders, two quarters are smugglers, and another quarter are all the rest, including pirates.
Only now it has dawned on me that if we cut off the Hutts from the Corellian Trade Spine, they'll have simply prohibitive losses, calculated in billions. Naturally, I don't intend to do that, not for now anyway, but the Hutts don't know that! And so they decided to send their slug to me to clarify this question in advance, because, as Tron said: "The slugs are really sitting on their asses." For reference, the Pykes have already been cut off from the Corellian trade route; all passing ships are already checked for who they are, where they're flying from, and what they're carrying, and woe to him who decides to evade, because the Mandalorians and mercenaries we've harnessed are not the types who will be polite. At best—they'll try to board, or even just shoot. Well, what? Essentially, we haven't touched anyone but the Pykes yet; everyone else flies freely.
Against this background, a certain Jabba the Hutt busied himself. This slug expressed a desire to speak on behalf of the Hutt Council and, only after receiving permission, quickly gathered his things and headed to visit us. As soon as the ship appeared in our space, I was warned as expected, buuuuut... whatever. Honestly, whatever, I'm not up for him specifically right now, and certainly not the Hutts in general.
So, when the Hutt arrived, he really didn't understand where he'd ended up. As the technicians working in the spaceport reported to me, it was visible in his bewildered gaze. Well yeah, such a respected and serious personality, a whole ambassador, and... no one meets him. In the sense—at all.
Since transport within the city limits isn't all that good, the Hutt had to reach my office on his own, surrounded by guards. Jabba didn't skimp on mercenaries: twenty serious mugs in good armor and with weapons led their employer in a reliable box, though why? There didn't seem to be that many armed individuals on the streets, if you don't count the Mandalorians... right.
Reaching my office, the Hutt was stunned again. Throwing the doors open before their master, the mercenaries entered the first floor, and just stood there when forty Mandalorian mugs turned to them. Although the building is built, it required equipping, and since the first floor is entirely dedicated to security, plus the first level of the basement, they are equipping it for themselves. Because of this, a surreal picture opened to the Hutt of how Mandalorians are arranging furniture, nailing something, setting up mannequins, and so on.
While the guests were coming to their senses, more Mandalorians flocked to the main hall, thus their number doubled abruptly.
"Turnak kilya al Aero, nak ol Hutt," the Hutt spoke, and the droid standing nearby immediately translated:
"My master Jabba the Hutt has arrived for negotiations with Mr. Aero, on behalf of the great Hutt Council."
"Nak't ol va, nal'onn, kilya nutra."
"My master, Jabba the Hutt, expresses respect to the noble warriors, and asks how to pass to your employer?"
In response, the Mandalorians silently stepped aside, organizing a corridor to the elevator. Surveying one side and then the other, Jabba was about to crawl between the rows of Mandalorians when his path was blocked.
"The guards remain here," a Black Mandalorian said clearly and slowly. The Hutt didn't argue and with a gesture of his hand left the guards at the entrance, while he himself along with the droid crawled into the elevator.
Descending to me underground, the Hutt crawled between workers and engineers, straight to my office, where I was already meeting him. Sitting at the desk and sorting through papers, I look up to see the Hutt. Right... specific guys, and they smell to match.
"Note for the future—never receive a Hutt in a living room," I mentally set a point, glancing at the trail left by the slug.
A thick, well-fed worm crawled inside and stopped.
"Hayn nabuki, ki'likanya otu, Aero," the slug said, spreading his arms like "hugs."
"My master, Jabba the Hutt, greets you, Mr. Aero, and wishes you well," the droid translated immediately.
"Hello, Jabba," I lean back in my chair, putting the tablet away. "And what wind brought you to us?"
"Mokichisa kri's tonrat ol Hutt, orr natu," first placing a paw on his belly, the Hutt then pointed his palm at me.
"My master has arrived as a representative of the Hutt Council, and of his own will, in order to extend a gesture of goodwill to you."
"Goodwill?"
"Tuuuuu, ter nak vao nak vit," with that, the Hutt added a "money" gesture with his fingers.
"My master, Jabba the Hutt, says that he has something to offer you."
"I'm listening."
"Let choda, ter nabuka vottu ol'nar tenerra toppoki ato," Jabba said, folding his paws on his belly.
"My master, Jabba the Hutt, says that first he would like to clarify your intentions toward the Hutts."
"Tipko at choda, vott terr ot Hutt?" the Hutt added immediately.
"My master, Jabba the Hutt, asks—what are you going to undertake? Will there be any actions regarding Hutt space?"
"No. There won't be. Unless the Hutts cross my path, as the Pykes did."
"Ha... ha-ha-ha-ha, buda nat kvista, Hutt ol tur!"
"My master, Jabba the Hutt, is admired by your insolence. He assures you, the Hutts will refrain from any actions toward this sector if there are no obstacles to their activity."
"On that I can consider the conflict resolved. You don't touch me, and I don't touch you. Fair?"
"Tu," the Hutt nodded. "Nok all rott Hutt, veron tppa ookutta."
"My master, Jabba the Hutt, will pass your words to the Hutt Council."
"Is that all?"
"Rep ot Tatooine, oppato ti'k or. Tappchi, oti Gardulla, vop tenn okit. Farat topp'pik aton."
"No. My master, Jabba the Hutt, wants to warn you. Before your appearance, Tatooine was divided by two sides. My master Jabba the Hutt, and Gardulla the Hutt. Jabba is ready to cede the planet to you, he does not want war, but Gardulla will not go for it. She also intends to visit Tatooine, but with a different proposal."
"I can guess which one. Thanks for the warning, Jabba, but I'll deal with the problems myself."
"Takkichi otappu fot?"
"My master, Jabba the Hutt, wants to know how you will solve problems in case they arise?"
"Radically," I shrug.
"Hm..." the Hutt sized me up thoughtfully. "Cherk ato opparo ot Hutt, tot onut. Karito to parot. Aes, kachoki kavavoki. Vonan kechu, pott anain. Yonapan, chenareta. Uanki chissa, toki unaka."
"My master, Jabba the Hutt, just wanted to warn you; he believes in both your strength and your prudence. Now to business. My master sees a special potential in this planet and wants to found a smuggler port here. You get a stable income as the planet's owners, plus discounts on the services of my master's smugglers. You'll have your own exit to the Hutt market, and the black market."
"Jabba, is this your proposal, or the Council's?" I ask immediately.
"Tork oppa nakito."
"This is my master's proposal."
"Then listen," I lean forward. "On my planet, compliance with the laws is mandatory. My laws," I emphasize. "I will allocate territory where you can organize everything you need, and I can even finance that matter. But! No trading in drugs or slaves here. Carrying them? Go ahead. But if I see distribution of the goods, I'll be talking to you."
"Hmmm..."
"Further—no creating disorder. If your smugglers create problems, no one will be polite with them."
"Takjidaa ot'ok."
"My master, Jabba the Hutt understands this, and agrees with your terms."
"That's not all. All ships are mandatory for inspection, no exceptions. Regarding protection, you can have some defensive forces here, but not too large. In return—I'll talk to the Mandalorians and a special price list for mercenary services will open for you personally."
"Ooooooo! Tura naroota. Mandalore otu varrochi?"
"My master, Jabba the Hutt, is very glad to hear such a proposal. But my master asks if it will be possible to enter the Mandalorian arms market?"
"I don't promise, but I'll try to reach an agreement," I nod.
"Ha-ha-ha-ha, baaa, darchto tu'nat!"
"My master is completely satisfied with all the terms of the deal. My master suggests discussing the details and signing the agreement."
"Let's."
So, having reached an agreement with Jabba, I temporarily closed the issue with the Hutts. Of course, we'll return to it; being friends with slugs is a dubious business... that's putting it mildly, but now the pros outweigh the cons. Stable income, a point for selling goods, plus an exit to their markets—it's worth it.
Having drafted a contract with the Hutt and allocated land near the B'omarr Monastery for rent, I send a small group of Mandalorians to look after him. Well, just in case someone decides to offend my new partner? And here, such reliable protection. By the way, looking at the contract, I laugh at the Hutt's resourcefulness myself. Essentially, this slippery, and very smart, cunning slug like a parasite is making himself a cozy nest under our wing. Having such protection as Mandalorians, plus an exit to their weapons, plus a strategic location... He wants to set himself up well, the bastard! I'll have to raise his percentages so he doesn't relax too much. But that's for later.
Now it's RAVEN's turn. Oh... how many problems there are with it, if only anyone knew. The defense station, where I originally planned to house the PMC, showed upon new assessment that it doesn't have all the necessary things a full-fledged large PMC needs. A branch can still be stuffed in, but no more.
So I'll have to move them from heaven to earth. Though, sand is also such a place, everything needs to be carefully equipped... Oh!
"Warren! Stop, f*cker, where are you running," I stop the Mandalorian in the corridor who tried to make a run for it. Well yeah, whoever I see, I immediately put to work. That's why everyone but the guards runs away from me, though droids are already appearing in that same guard.
"Yes, Shade?"
"To my office!"
Sighing, the Mandalorian followed me. Returning to the office and sitting down, I began the interrogation:
"Tell me, whose bright idea was it to take a photo against the background of Basilisks?"
"Mine..."
"And what the f*ck for?"
"Well, to lift the spirit, call in additional forces..."
"In the future, first think about where you'll put all that crowd, and only then call, alright?"
"We aren't picky, we'll sit on a mat," he spread his arms.
"I'm talking about occupation. Anyway, to hell with that, how many Basilisks arrived?"
"At the moment five machines. The day after tomorrow another ten will come."
"Good... Have you activated them already?"
"No. After activation a Basilisk remembers the one it sees before it and thereafter follows only the master's commands... or those the master designates, but the master is still the priority."
"Then like this. You, Kaut, Zer, Tron, and Nerra. You each take a machine."
"And Dis?"
"He doesn't need one; as soon as something is clarified with the institute I'll direct him there. You guys test the equipment, learn. And yeah, kick the others so they don't relax; we have a big event coming up."
"How big?"
"Big enough that I want to convene a council of clans and ask for help."
"That's serious already. Should I pass it to my father?"
"Yes."
"What else?"
"Another complex was being built on our territory, similar to this one but larger. I thought of setting it aside for other needs, but since everything turned out this way, the building will go to the PMC. Choose someone of yours, let them handle the equipping. The building is already commissioned, only needs furnishing."
"Understood. What can be taken?"
"Everything you consider necessary. Spare parts, weapons, armor, the complex goes entirely to your needs. Dis brought a 3D printer to my CIM; put a couple for yourselves for various needs. Though, what am I saying, you know better than I what you need for life," Warren nodded.
"And who to pass the next batch of Basilisks to?"
"To whoever you want, the main thing—already repainted," I tap my friend's bracer. "Since we've started pushing this line, we have to follow through. Do we have those who've distinguished themselves?" a nod. "Then give them to them. And yeah, come to me tonight; I'll issue a set of instructions."
"Alright."
"Further. I'm concerned about ground vehicles. Or rather—the lack thereof."
"I don't think they'll be useful to us..."
"A good APC or heavy-caliber artillery will always come in handy! Since you've dodged leading RAVEN, you'll be my assistant. Dis will be free now; tell him to look on the market for suitable options for us to acquire. We don't need much, just some basics," taking the tablet, I quickly search for long-left notes. "Zero, where are my notes on armored vehicles?"
"Beep-beep," the droid responded, immediately opening the necessary file on the tablet.
"Thanks. Here, look, I've indicated the bare minimum, independent of the model purchased: ten armored personnel carriers, a dozen siege tanks or similar droids. Artillery—twenty machines, real artillery, not those pea-shooters Bactoid produces!"
"I know."
"Military trucks, both wheeled and on cushions—about sixty. Usage is intended for more than just military purposes. Military cleaning equipment, minelayers and sapper machines, a bridge-laying machine..."
"Just pass me the file."
"Here."
"Hm... and where did you pull the names of all this equipment from?"
"Where, where, made them up myself. What's the problem?"
"I don't know half of these machines in principle."
"Seriously?!"
"Yes."
"A pity. Military equipment is very useful both in everyday life and in war, especially construction equipment."
"So, who controls space controls the planet."
"Really? And if there is planetary defense on the planet? Under a shield. What then?"
"Argument."
"There you go."
"But where did you get all this? A third of this is just an archaism!" he looked at me. "Ah, right... anyway, question withdrawn."
"Since the question is withdrawn, you're free. Zero, dial Yuri."
The door hadn't managed to close behind Warren before the hologram of the man about to resign from the Judicial Department appeared before me.
"Shade."
"Yuri," greeting with a nod, I inquired: "Have you familiarized yourself with the contract?"
"Yes. The terms are more than acceptable... I'd even say—dubious."
"I try to look after my employees, especially if they deserve it."
"I'll check personally," the man smirked. "Shade, I've already written that I can leave no earlier than in two weeks."
"I'm not calling because of that. I have another question for you."
"I'm listening."
"It so happened that my ship was subjected to a hacker attack while parked at the Judicial Department parking lot."
"What?!"
"Yes, you heard right. And before you leave, I'd very much like to know how that happened?"
"Shade, are you sure?"
"I'm sure. Because immediately after that my ship suffered a crash on a not-so-safe planet. Actually, that accounts for my absence."
"Hm..."
"Please check who had access to the service droids at that time. In particular, I very much ask you to check one Jedi Master—a certain Reynar. I can't help with the surname, but you might have seen him at the time of my departure—he's a Devaronian. I don't exactly suspect him, it's not very Jedi-like after all, but nevertheless, I'd like to check, as I have no faith in the Order."
"Understood. I'll try to find out the circumstances of this incident and report on the results."
"Thank you. That's all from me. All the best, Yuri."
"All the best."
Cutting the connection, I pull the already cooled drink into my hand. Eh...
"Zero, what kind of life is this? You get into trouble, try to get out. And you get out—and realize you'd better have stayed there. Hm?"
"No data for an answer," the droid responded, blinking its sensor, sitting on the ceiling.
"Eh. Alright, call Derick."
The droid obediently dialed Derick, with whom a discussion began of his developments and immediate plans for TNC development. As soon as the man received additional financing, he gripped the business like a hungry cat a fish. Now we have resources, a base, equipment, but no free hands. As the man expressed it, never in his memory on Tatooine has the question of workers stood as sharply as now. Derick also lamented the ore, saying it's sort of good, but sort of not. Should go and look at it.
So, gathering my things, I had to personally tour all the already launched mining points. As the Force showed, the guys just hadn't dug deep enough. Go a bit deeper—and we get what's needed, but as it is—there are still too many impurities in the metal. Nevertheless, it's not that slag that lies on the surface anymore. Ideally, you can not bother and drill right to the core, everything is clean there, but that's long and for now simply not needed. The factories aren't there yet, after all.
Passing the data to Derick, I switch to the Institute. Talia has filtered some of the candidates according to my requirements; now all that remains is to talk to them. Giving the green light for the bright minds to visit us, all that remains is to wait.
After the institute, RAVEN returned to me like a boomerang. Something was needed to occupy the Mandalorians. Right now. But what? Not thinking of anything smarter—I arranged a Krayt dragon hunting season; let them have fun. Besides, a live dragon is worth many times more than a dead one; such a thing can be sold to collectors as a curiosity for a couple of million, or even more. Especially since some have Basilisks which they VERY much want to test.
Oooooh, Basilisks are a separate headache. Those who received them were not even in the seventh or eighth heaven of happiness. They simply caught such an ecstasy from their beasts that I only had to twirl my finger at my temple. And what they didn't do with their metal "beasts." Despite the fact that the painting for everyone should be uniform, the people highlighted themselves anyway, drawing teeth, wings, tails, fangs, blood, eyes, and other elements on their "beasts." I forbade touching the beasts' armament flatly! With the replacement of armament the battle tactics also change, and I need normal squads, not separate independent units.
Those who didn't have Basilisks looked at their brothers with open envy. Those who managed to join the TNC defense forces and repaint their armor silently waited for their beast, knowing they would get it. The rest... well, what can I say, we'll soon run out of Krayt dragons.
Companies from the Corporate Sector made themselves known. In particular, they sent us residential modules, modules for expanding the garden, and seed material. Distributing the cargo into two unequal parts, I give the command for sowing. Strangely, but here the Mandalorians joined the work. And I forgot that they are not only warriors but also engineers and farmers and pilots all in one... how convenient.
Now remains to take the second and larger half, take the unpacked drilling rigs, and with all this gear fly to Concord Dawn, and at the same time convene a council of clans. At my request Warren has already warned his people; they aren't against it, all that remains is to coordinate the date...
"Shade, here," suddenly, a mug is placed on my desk. Lifting my eyes, I see my Sweetheart.
"Ah... Talia. Hi-hi," taking the drink with the Force, I set the container aside and return to the tablet.
"Eh... Still sitting?"
"What can you do, until Yuri arrives, I have to clear it out. Later it'll become easier," I rub the bridge of my nose tiredly.
"There's this, Gardulla has arrived."
"Who?"
"Gardulla the Hutt."
"Pity it's not Yuri... Wait! What? Another slug?! Jabba visited us yesterday! Or the day before?" I lift my eyes to the ceiling.
"That was eight days ago," Talia answered condescendingly, with a modicum of pity, folding her hands in a lock before her.
"HOW?! How eight days???"
"Shade, today is the twenty-third."
Glancing at the calendar, I rub my eyes. That's how I dropped out of life...
"F*ck's sake," I stare with a blank look into the tablet. Making a heavy sigh, I freeze. The smell of the drink reached me...
Slo-o-o-owly turning to the mug, I look at it like a wonder of the world and don't believe my own nose.
"Shade?" Talia worried, but I ignored her. Taking the mug, I sniff... It can't be! It can't be...
Taking a hesitant sip, I break into a blissful smile... It's... it's IT! The very one!!!
"Shaaaaaaaaade?"
Lifting my eyes, from which tears spontaneously burst, I look at Talia. Do I imagine it, or did she just grow wings?
"Chief, you're scaring me..."
"It's it! The very one... Vorka... My favorite drink."
"Really?" the girl was surprised, leaning forward as if peering into the mug.
"How?!" I ask in a hoarse tone. "How???"
"Well... I saw how much time you spent in those experiments looking for the drink. During my time next to you I understood the tastes, well and I made it my way."
"Talia..." lifting the girl with the Force, I pull her to me and seat her on my knees. "My shining Sun, angel, how did you do it?!"
"Well... To tell the truth, by accident. I've cooked very little, after all, and I thought I'd brewed junk... and here's how it turned out."
Hugging the girl, closing my eyes, I bury my face in her chest.
"Shade, what's with you? It's just a drink..."
In response, I weakly shake my head.
"No. Not just a drink at all. Only one being could make it..."
Who would have thought that a mug with an aromatic drink would be able to crack me? I just sat there, hugging Talia, and couldn't hold back the tears. All business flew out of my head; everything I was doing, everything went to the second plan. The thought that came to me gave me no peace. It was logical, explained everything, but I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't... it's nonsense!
Laughing quietly, I realize I caught a simple hysteria. Right... calm, only calm. The Force is with me, I am one with the Force. Inhaaaaaale! Exhaaaaaale.
"Shade, you're scaring me. What happened?"
"Nothing... nothing, Talia. Everything is fine. Just... doesn't matter."
Pulling away, I look at her face and smile. No... I believe. I want to believe. I don't want it to be otherwise. Apparently... the Force isn't as cruel as I thought after all.
Placing a palm on my cheek, Talia brushed away a tear with her thumb.
"That's not like you."
"That's a separate story, connected with this drink. Maybe I'll tell it sometime later. And don't say 'you' to me anymore in that formal way, alright? Even in work."
"Alright."
"Thanks, Sun," pressing back, I hug her, trying to transmit all those accumulated feelings. Talia was actually sent into a slight shiver, but the girl didn't lose her composure. Placing a hand on me, she began to stroke, radiating sympathy.
Suddenly, the door opened and Zer appeared in it.
"Chief? There's this... Gardulla is asking for an audience."
"Let her wait!" I answer, not breaking the hug.
"She has very important business."
Instead of an answer I just threw an activated sword at the door with the Force.
"Understood. I'll tell her," Zer nodded, slowly closing the door behind him.
"You could have been softer," Talia commented, glancing at the sword and stroking my head.
"They'll manage."
"And let the whole world wait?"
"Yes."
***
I only received Gardulla an hour later, once I had recovered from the burst of emotions and enjoyed the girl's company. Force... how grateful I am to you... thank you. It was as if that spark of life had been returned to me. So many memories... so many emotions. Cheered up and shoulders squared, I take on the business with new enthusiasm.
Taking the previous reception into account, I received Gardulla right on the first floor, not letting her into my space. Otherwise I'd have to clean up the trails after them and air out the room, ugh. Dropping onto the sofa in the main hall, I look at the "guests" huddled together in the form of the Hutt, her droid, and several mercenaries. There were also several Mandalorians in the hall as guards.
I wonder, is a Hutt's stench determined by its size? Because Gardulla is twice as massive as Jabba, but she stank just as many times more. And what do we have in the emotions? Anger, irritation, contempt... clear, a full cocktail. Well, well.
"So what the f*ck are you doing here?" I ask when the staring game dragged on.
"My mistress, the great Gardulla the Hutt, is waiting for you to begin offering apologies," the translator droid said.
"What?" I lean forward, and with a modicum of amazement ask: "Apologies? Are you sure you aren't confusing something?"
"Kasuriya ar tikuichka! Ort kan ki kuuchu!" the Hutt said quite loudly and expressively.
"My mistress, the great Gardulla the Hutt, says that you are in her zone of responsibility. You have not only defaulted on payment, but you also destroyed her cruiser and dare to offer insults."
"Ahem... what?" I didn't even have to play surprise. "Have you... completely lost your fear?" rising from the sofa, I slowly step forward. "You fly to my house, to my planet... demand something... ask about a cruiser that you sent to me yourselves... tell me, by what concepts do I owe you any payment?"
"Tokka artip appon takot."
"The great Gardulla the Hutt says for you not to get ahead of yourself. You are on her territory, and alive only as long as she allows you."
Sizing the Hutt up with a contemptuous look, crossing my arms behind my back, I walk in a circle and say:
"Tch-tch-tch-tch-tch, one shouldn't, shouldn't say such things to a master in his house, respected lady. I am a kind being. I always give a chance. And I give it to you, as I gave it to your kinsman—Jabba. Take your words back, offer apologies, and leave."
"Atonna topat! Iuchcha akono kanato! Jabba ot takito."
"The great Gardulla the Hutt says that Jabba Desilijic Tiure is a small runt who imagines himself who knows what! He isn't even a member of the Council of Clans, unlike the respected Gardulla the Hutt. You, on the other hand, are now making a very big mistake..."
The droid stopped. At that moment I stepped on the Hutt's tail and gave it such a discharge of Force Lightning that Gardulla was not even able to scream. The muscles didn't obey, the skin was searing, a wild fit covered the Hutt. The mercenaries immediately pointed their weapons, but the Mandalorians reacted faster—a short series of shots, and ten bodies with holes in their heads fall to the floor. I love Mandalorians.
"Kill all who were with her, requisition the ship," I say to the nearest fighter. Nodding, he contacted his people outside. "And call Jabba to me; I have good news for him," another nod. "Gardulla," stepping over the tail, I walk further in a circle. "You acted very rashly, continuing to threaten me. And I gave you a chance. You vainly didn't use it," squeezing the Hutt with the Force, I hear the crunch of bones. No way! Slugs, but look at that, vertebrates. "I have enough of a headache as it is without you throwing spokes in my wheels, so don't hope for anything good. The only chance to survive—is to rewrite all assets to Jabba."
"Vark phar tk! Ptooie!"
"Hm..." glancing into her eyes, I check the mental barrier. Strong little worm... very strong, a tough mind. "Glisty," I jerk my head slightly, hitting the infection with lightning again. Unlikely to be able to compel with the Force.
I didn't have to wait long for Jabba. Not twenty minutes pass before the smaller Hutt crawls into the hall. Noticing the performance, he folded his arms on his belly and looked askance at me.
"Jabba! Glad you got here so quickly. Sorry for distracting you from business, I know perfectly well what it's like when you're pulled at the wrong time. Tell me, how do you look at privatizing everything Gardulla owns?"
The Hutt's face elongated in surprise. Looking at the groaning and heavily breathing Gardulla, then at me, the Hutt thoughtfully rubbed his chin.
"Trek nakpo op'tak terrk ot Hutt. Kajidic ut teppachi nakoto or ot tok'apikach ot Gardulla."
"My master..."
"In short," I interrupt. "Zero?"
"He says that by Hutt laws, it's not that easy to do. They have no kinship, and they are from different kajidics. Everything Gardulla has will go to her kajidic."
"In that case, what will happen if we send her head home?"
"Kajidic ot tannakochi."
"The kajidic will seek revenge," Zero translated laconically.
"Revenge, is it? Hm..." I look at the Mandalorians. "Okay," with a swing of the sword, I cut off the head. Lifting it with the Force, I hold it out to Jabba. "Could you send it?" Jabba uncertainly took the head. "And yeah, please write the kajidic's address."
The Hutt nodded and asked:
"Tok arkot?"
"Asks if that's all?" Zero blinked his sensor.
"Yes, of course. Thanks, Jabba."
Turning around, the Hutt slowly crawled back, looking at Gardulla's head and constantly turning back to me. Now, the Mandalorians.
***
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