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As
usual, Jabba the Hutt's palace is alive with the throng of hangers-on
and sycophants. The gangster himself is hunched atop his dais, with
Salacious Crumb perched next to his occasionally twitching tail. The
majordomo, a Twi'lek, motions for Grrothek to wait. Then Bib Fortuna
informs the magnificent Jabba that they are receiving a visitor who
wishes to bargain. Jabba ho-hos and turns his big orange eyes to
regard the Gamorrean. He says something in Huttese, and the silver
protocol droid to Jabba's right says, "The exalted and wise Jabba bids
you welcome, and suggests that you state your business."
Grrothek enters the throne room with a wide, proud gait, but
genuflects appropirately before rising again and speaking to the
Protocol Droid in the grunts and squeals of his language. After a
moment the Protocol Droid tilts its head toward Jabba. "It seems that
the Gamorrean is in need of a ship, exalted one."
Jabba ho-ohs! He reaches into a jar of squirming frog-things, draws
one out and puts it into his slimy slit-mouth. It slides down his
gullet, and then Jabba fixes his attention on Grrothek. "A Gamorrean
who can pilot a starship? Intriguing."
Grrothek grunts some more, a look of half-embarassement and
half-irritation upon it. The Droid provides the proper translation,
"He says that he is not very good at piloting, your worship. Rather a
friend of his would do most of the piloting. He says that he is a
bounty hunter, however, and needs a ship to pursue his targets."
Jabba bobs his mounded head, gesturing with his blunt arms. "I am in a
position to assist in your endeavor, but you will be indebted. Service
to Jabba the Hutt will be required."
Grrothek grunts sharply in Gamorrese. "The Gamorrean says that he was
once in service to another Hutt, and that he served him will and
faithfully," the droid says, "However, he claims that the Hutt, Lurgo
by name, disbanded the organization and left him with out a job. He
wants some assurance that he will have some job security if he pledges
to you." The droid pauses a moment, then relates. "He also seems quite
adamant that he does not want a job in 'guard duty.' He says he
prefers to... 'bash things...?'"
Jabba drops his mouth open, his hand wavering over a control button of
some kind. "You dare compare Jabba the Hutt to that amateur?"
Grrothek genuflects promptly, rifle laid on the ground in front of him
in submission. He whimpers in his languages lightly. "No comparison,
your excellecy," The droid says with some urgency. "The Gamorrean says
that Lurgo was but 'Rancor Dung' and not worthy to cross the arches of
your gates. He says that he is glad to be rid of wretched service to
foolish Lurgo and wants nothing better than to serve a Hutt who will
give him 'honorable tasks.'"
Jabba oh-hos. "How much does your pilot require?"
Grrothek stays kneeling an emits the amount softly. "110,000 credits,
by your excellency's grace," says the droid, translating the Gamorrean.
"He says that it would be for a YT-1300 so that they can both hunt
bounty and carry cargo for your excellency's profit."
Jabba gestures to Bib Fortuna. "Give him what he requires."
The majordomo bows to Jabba, and then scurries through the crowd,
leaving the chamber for now.
Grrothek remains bowed, and grunts something quietly. "The Gamorrean
asks for your leave to engage in a show of marksmanship that you may
see what sort of servant you have acquired with your generosity," the
droid translates. "A... rough translation, your grace. A literal
translation would be something like. 'Grrothek want show boom, for
show good got you.'" The droid shrugs, as best as a protocol droid
can.
Jabba oh-hos and bobs his mounded head in approval.
Grrothek nods and holds his rifle at the ready. He grunts twice,
sharply. "He asks you to name your target, your excellency" the droid
says.
The Hutt takes a few moments, considering with great seriousness. And
then his amber-orange eyes roll toward the silver droid. His tongue
lolls out grossly. A blunt hand indicates the protocol droid and he
laughs huffingly.
The silver droid, about 20 feet from Grrothek, raises his gleaming
arms and gasps in electronic alarm. "Oh, my. What have I done to earn
your wrath, mighty Jabba?"
Grrothek grins with pleasure at this pronouncement and aims the rifle
at the droid, squeezing the trigger and firing once.
The blast hits the droid squarely in the chest, vaporising it
immediately. The extremities -- arms, legs, and head -- fly outward
like the supernova of a star. The head hits the ceiling with a ring
and lands near Grrothek's heavy boot. He grunts at the droid. The
droid, feeling still the duties of his programming, translates the
Gamorrean's words. "He says... he ... never liked... droids... your
excellency... He thanks you for... the opportunity... tooo...
seeerrrve... yooouuu...." The voice lengthens and dies, the light of
the eyes blinking out. The Gamorrean kicks the head like a ball and
raises his rifle in salute to the Hutt, pride in his face.
The Hutt chortles. Salacious Crumb swings his furred snout around to
stare at the ruins of the droid, and then he begins shrieking
laughter. Everyone else in the room begins laughing as well. It is
about this time that Bib Fortuna returns with two boxes contained the
credits sought by the Gamorrean.
Grrothek accepts the credits from Bib Fortuna and grins at the Hutt.
He leans down to the ground and begins to write in the dust in basic
so that the Hutt can read it. "Who you me want kill?" the Gamorrean
spells out very carefully.
The Hutt doesn't answer, but Fortuna does, in Gamorrese: "The master
no tell. You give datapad number. You get contacted when needed, yes?"
The Gamorrean nods and writes out the number in the dust of the floor.
Fortuna looks at the number, then tilts his head and gestures with
long-nailed fingers toward the archway leading out. "Farewell," he
says in Gamorrese.
Grrothek waves in recognition of the Hutt, then of Fortuna. He slings
the rifle over his back and leaves the throne room, grunting and
slobbering. |
