Tales From Jabbas Palace (Kevin Anderson) (12 page)

Sienn shook like one of Master Fortuna’s collar ornaments.

Oola raised up on her elbows and knees, lizard-style, and brandished Rudd’s little dagger like a claw. “Who are you?” she demanded. “What do you want?”

“I mean you no harm.” He didn’t flinch from her blade. “My name is Luke.”

She rolled the word down her tongue. “Luke. Go away, Luke.”

“I was born on this world.” Every word tried to soothe her.

“I’ve returned on important…” He used another word she didn’t know and couldn’t guess at. Maybe it was the name of his spaceship.

“Then go do what you came back for,” she said.

“Leave us alone.”

He leaned down onto both hands and crawled closer. Something dangling from his belt caught her attention. It didn’t look like a blaster, and it certainly wasn’t a knife. But she’d never seen a money pouch shaped like that. If it was a weapon, he wasn’t reaching for it.

He must not think her quick enough—or determined enough—to use her knife. She wriggled her knees up under her hips and dug her toes into the sand. This lizard could spring.

“What’s your name?” he asked. He was almost close enough to touch.

“Nothing, daughter of nobody.” She didn’t want to hurt him, just chase him away. She picked her target - - his left arm was extended.

She could jab his elbow.

Just enough to-His right hand flicked, a beckoning gesture. Her arms collapsed. She dropped chin first onto the sand and lost her grip on her knife.

He crooked one finger. The dagger spun across the ground into his grasp. “Sorry,” he said. “But I won’t hurt you. You mustn’t hurt me.

Are you slaves?”

What was this Luke creature? His face looked placid, even kind… but she couldn’t trust that power in his voice and his right hand, and she didn’t want to be kidnapped twice. She backed off again. Her left foot struck something. “Ouch!” squeaked Sienn.

“Come with me,” Luke whispered. “I’ll hide you. If anyone sees me, I have to… hide.” Now he was underestimating her grasp of Basic.

“Or… I have to get rid of them.”

Oola scooted deeper and scooped up a handful of sand.

“I don’t mean you.” His smile seemed genuine, though she was no judge of humans. “I’ll get you to the Rebel Alliance. They don’t buy or sell anyone.”

According to Master Fortuna’s people, the Rebel Alliance was even more dangerous than the Empire. She held her ground.

The h to address Sienn.

“Come with me?” he cajoled.

Oola twisted around to warn her partner against it.

Sienn widened her eyes and smiled. She raised up on hands and knees and crawled forward.

“That’s it,” the stranger encouraged her.

“Sienn!” Oola hissed. Sienn scrambled past her.

Luke touched Sienn’s shoulder, resting one hand on silky yellow fabric.

“Hurry,” he urged. Backing out of the sweltering shelter, he eyed Oola again. She fancied that he pitied her. “Won’t you let me help you?

You won’t get a second… chance. Do you know ‘chance’?”

Even as Oola felt the tug of his influence, her pride and jealousy flared. “We’ve been chosen to dance in Jabba’s palace,” she insisted, “the grandest on Tatooine. We’re a pair. We go to Jabba together.”

“It’s the grandest on Tatooine, all right,” Luke admitted.

He draped his cloak over Sienn. “But I have” - - again the “bizz-ness” word she couldn’t translate—”there.

It won’t be pleasant. Jabba’s palace isn’t what you think.”

Abruptly Oola remembered stormtroopers at the spaceport, searching incoming ships… for someone.

She stared at the crouched figure in his rough but dignified black.

Built like a dancer, he moved with controlled energy. And he still held her knife. She hadn’t seen much of the galaxy, but she knew how to piece clues together. She made a swift guess. “Are you the one the Empire is looking for? At the spaceport?”

Luke shrugged. He glanced over his shoulder.

“Probably. We have to hurry. Come on. I’ll set you free.”

Free? On this planet? What kind of life would that be?

She’d tried to reconcile herself to slavery. But freedom was better than servitude, even in the finest palace.

Then again… Oola envisioned herself lying on soft tufted cushions, savoring the finest raw fungi, summoning energy for another glorious dance. She thought of the thunderous praises she’d win. She hesitated.

Jabba was the wealthiest gangster in a hundred worlds.

“Please come,” Luke whispered. “Jabba will k”

“Hey? shouted a familiar voice. “Get away from those girls!”

Oola peered out from under the sail toward the street. Rudd had reappeared around the corner of one blocky building. Bib Fortuna hung back, looking as darkly elegant as ever with his high bony crest and thick lekku. Protruding from his cloak, half-gloves and studded wristbands set off his long, clawed fingers.

She’d found his hands fascinating, that fateful night back at home.

He was temptation.

He was evil, she realized with a shock that almost leveled her.

Evil.

Rudd held his blaster at the ready. “All right, you.

You’re asking for it. That’s Jabba’s property.”

“I don’t care much for Jabba.” Luke thrust Sienn behind him.

Slightly shielded, she plunged toward better cover. A crushed nose cone jutted out of the debris pile. Sienn dove behind it. Luke pressed into the nearest alcove and shoved at what looked like a door.

It didn’t open.

Oola cringed.

“Hah!” Rudd fired. His shot splattered into sand just behind Luke’s left leg. The sand melted into a glassy puddle. “I’m not killing you yet,” he jeered.

“First, you’re going to learn not to tinker with Jabba’s belongings.”

Luke flattened against the building. His face looked deadly calm.

Fortuna had warned her: please Jabba, and she’d reap the finest rewards.

Cross him, and expect worse than her worst imaginings.

Jabba must be evil too. She had to stop this. Somehow.

What could she do?

Finally Luke seized the strange object at his belt and unhooked it, then held it out two-handed. To Oola’s astonishment, a glowing green shaft appeared at one end. Luke stepped out of the doorway toward Rudd.

The step dropped hin into a deep dueling stance, and he wielded the glimmering weapon with long, strong sweeps of his arms and shoulders.

The weapon’s weird metallic hum changed pitch as he swung it. Blaster bolts deflected in all directions. Not one touched him.

Oola gaped. He wasn’t just built like a dancer. He moved like one.

His head turned. “Go!”.he shouted at Sienn.

“Run!” That was for Oola.

Oola hesitated. Rudd had seen Luke. As Oola understood, Luke had to kill him now. He was hiding from the Empire.

What about Master Fortuna?

“Stop that!” Rudd crouched. He steadied one elbow on his knee and fired off a continuous volley.

Luke stepped closer and continued to parry. Rudd didn’t seem to realize his own danger.

Oola cast a glance around for her tall master.

At the edge of the debris, Fortuna slunk toward Sienn. He brandished a blaster of his own. He probably meant to stun Sienn, then kill Luke… if Rudd didn’t get him. He rounded the nose cone and aimed his blaster. Sienn shrank against jumbled debris, trapped like a child with no place to run or hide. Oola had one moment of choice.

“Sienn!” Oola shrieked. “Go! Run!” She dashed at Fortuna, seized the flapping edge of his black robes, and twined her lekku around his shoulders in mock passion. Rolls of fat shook at the base of his neck.

The blaster fell from his elegant hand. He bent backward to grope for it. “Get off,” he seethed. “Get off me, you little fool.”

Oola’s sudden panic made Mos Eisley seem chilly. If Luke meant to kill Fortuna, she’d just jumped into his line of fire. She tried to pull free. Her lekku tangled with Fortuna’s.

Bib caught her wrist in a grip that drove his nails into her flesh.

Gasping, Oola collapsed. Her lekku fell flaccid. Fortuna pulled free of them.

Oola let him drag her to her feet. She hadn’t been shot. Neither had Fortuna, but Rudd lay facedown and twitching. Sienn was dashing up the street. Both of her lekku swung down the back of Luke’s too-long cloak.

She had almost reached the street corner beyond that debris heap. Luke followed her, carrying his weird weapon… but the glimmering shaft had vanished.

As Sienn dashed out of sight, Luke slowed. He glanced over his shoulder, caught Oola’s stare, and hesitated.

Sienn wouldn’t survive two minutes alone in these streets. “Go!”

Oola shrieked.

Luke raised both eyebrows in a pained expression, as if she had finally jabbed him. He spun away, and then he too was gone.

“So you want Jabba to yourself.” Bib pulled her so close to his leather chest protector that she could smell rancid breath venting between his long, pointed teeth. He dug his blaster muzzle into her stomach.

“All of the goodies for Oola. No rivals.”

“No rivals,” she sneered back, full of adrenaline and bravado. It was either that or recoil. She mustn’t show fear.

Fortuna flung her away. Oola caught her balance with a languid handspring, turned back to Bib, and waited.

“My speeder is parked around the corner,” he growled. His orange-pink eyes glowered. “This way.”

Oola sighed away the memory. She’d lost daylight and hope, and she’d never wielded power. But no one could steal her honor. She would never again lose her best reason for living.

“Fortuna hates me now,” she murmured. She fingered the hideous leather headdress. “Here are my soft cushions.” Mocking her own words, she ran a finger over the stony lip of Jabba’s bed. Her dainties?

Scraps Jabba tossed when she groveled… or food he suspected of harboring poison.

Threepio finished translating her tale for Yarna, then they both shook their heads. Beyond Jabba’s throne, a scream faded into the floor. Oola shuddered.

She’d seen Jabba feed his stinking, hideous underground monster.

The rancor usually devoured its prey whole. By the standards of this place, it looked like a quick death. She’d rather be next on the menu than watch it again, and that was likely enough. She’d choose it over Jabba’s ardent embrace. How ironic that Sienn, the obvious morsel, had escaped… but Oola was glad that she had, and proud to have helped.

“At least you can dance,” Yarna pointed out. “Be thankful Jabba doesn’t have your cubs in his clutches.”

Oola raised her head. “I can dance,” she agreed.

“If I could have one wish…”

“What?” Yarna encouraged, straightening her own headdress.

“I would dance the perfect dance. Once. It wouldn’t matter who watched. I would know it was perfect.”

Threepio’s head swiveled jauntily over his metal shoulders. “But Miss Oola, Master Luke is close by.”

“You do know him?”

“Oh yes. I—”

“I wasn’t heat-crazy? He can do all those things?”

“Oh yes. I too was a gift to Jabba.” His singsong voice sounded giddy.

“Master Luke is aJedi Knight, a very important person in the Rebel Alliance. He’s very good at rescuing people. You should have—”

“Don’t,” she groaned. What had Luke tried to warn her? That Jabba would… k-something. Kill her?

Surely he couldn’t predict the future.

Threepio touched her shoulder. “He’s coming here to rescue me.

I’ll see that he rescues you ladies, too.

Leave that to me.”

Oola eyed the droid critically. “He used so many hard words in that message—the one your friend… projected,” she finished in Twi’leki.

“Oh, that. Perhaps you should play along with His High Exaltedness just a little longer?” Threepio imitated a human shrug.

Yarna nudged her, her face compassionate. “Listen to Metal Man, Oola.

If I can survive this, you can.”

“Not for long. Not with my—” The court rang with raucous laughter. At any moment, she’d feel the tug at her slave collar.

“Threepio, help us escape. You must.”

Threepio touched her stout chain and then the greasy round bolt on his chest. “Creating a plan,” he dithered in Twi’leki, “is beyond my capacity. Artoo has a vibro-cutter among his appendages, but he has been assigned to the garages.”

Oola forced down her glimmer of temporary hope.

She mustn’t forget bright eternity, nor the Great Dance. Not in here.

Not for a moment. “That’s the difference between us,” she muttered.

“For all of your six million forms of communication, you’re faithless.”

“I beg your pardon.” Threepio brushed his midsection again. “I have every faith in Master Luke. He will rescue me.” Since hearing her story, he’d called Luke “Master” twice—a term he’d hesitated to use before.

Evidently her story had done him some good, anyway.

And if “Master Luke” was coming, she might get a second chance after all. She eyed her fellow dancer.

“Perhaps I can survive this,” she agreed. And perhaps Sienn was already safe somewhere. “I’ll do my b” Her collar tugged up and backward. Half strangled, Oola yanked her headpiece back on, flailing for balance as Jabba hauled her over his side. She dug her fingers and toes into fetid flesh. Jabba purred as if tickled by her struggling.

His jizz-wailers swung into a new dance tune.

Furious, Oola leaped off her grotesque master’s dais. She vaulted into the middle of the floor, defiantly landing on the rancor pit’s grate.

Jabba’s trapdoor had closed again. Maybe he hadn’t even opened it.

Maybe.

Yarna joined the dance, as did Melina Carniss with her long dark fur.

Oola kept at the far end of her chain. In one dark alcove she seemed to see blue eyes watching from under a roughly woven black hood.

She would dance for him this time. For a second chance. She kicked head-high and higher, powerfully swinging her fleshy lekku. Her grace was her glory.

The physical rapture of dancing swept through her and owned her, freely and naturally. Every step and each gesture marked out a melody.

She’d found perfect sensual poise. At last.

Evidently Jabba thought so, too. He tugged her chain.