Chapter 302
A few hours later, when the twin suns of Tatooine had climbed high enough to turn the desert into a furnace, I was already back inside Jabba's palace. The air inside was cooler, thick with the scent of spiced smoke and exotic perfumes. Servants led me through winding corridors until we reached a small, dimly lit chamber reserved for private conversation.
Jabba reclined on a low dais across from me, his massive form dominating the room. He gestured with one pudgy hand toward the chair opposite him. I settled into it, resisting the strong urge to prop my feet up on the low table between us — it looked far too inviting.
There was no food or drink this time. Instead, servants brought a large, ornate hookah. Jabba took the primary mouthpiece and drew deeply, the water bubbling softly. A second mouthpiece was offered to me.
*Fucking Indian,* I thought wryly as I accepted it. *I hope there are no heavy drugs in this…*
One puff told me otherwise. Something was definitely mixed in — smooth, slightly sweet, with a faint psychoactive edge that loosened the tongue without clouding the mind too badly. *Not an ordinary hookah.*
After the ritual smoke, we began the real negotiations. We didn't need a translator, so we spoke in Huttese — a crude but remarkably efficient language. It allowed an entire sentence to be conveyed in just a few blunt words. Huttese was especially appreciated by those who enjoyed strong language; in my opinion, it was only slightly inferior to Russian in its capacity for creative profanity, though richer and more nuanced in places.
We were left completely alone. And our conversation quickly became… interesting. Very interesting.
~ Jabba Desilijic Tiure. It is a great honor to speak with you. ~
"I haven't met a Jedi in a long time, nor spoken with one," Jabba rumbled in Huttese, his voice deep and gravelly. "You're the first to officially visit my palace. We — the Republic and the Hutts — have had many disagreements in the past. We have spoken in the language of hostility. But now, I hope, we can move on from that bird-speak to a normal one. And we'll talk about the real state of affairs, Jedi."
"The Republic has always been distinguished by its dual views," I nodded, taking another measured drag from the hookah. "And this is not a matter of personal hostility or simple xenophobia."
Jabba took a deep pull, exhaling a thick cloud toward the ceiling.
"You're right. It's not so much xenophobia as it is zones of influence," the Hutt said, using the mouthpiece to trace a vague shape in the air. "That's what started most conflicts. Other causes were secondary. Surely people's religious preferences aren't the cause?"
"People?" I asked again. "Not the Republic? I seem to recall that it was the Republic that started the wars against you. Or am I mistaken?"
"Exactly." Jabba's vertical pupils fixed on me. "We Hutts have been around long enough to know. I'm too young to remember what you call 'before Ruusan' — but my mother did. And from what she told me, things haven't changed much since then. Humans have always stood out from the crowd. There are simply more of you than anyone else. And that's why no one likes you. That's par for the course in the Republic, though. Bothans don't like Twi'leks. Sullustans don't like Malastarians. Caamasi and Mon Calamari don't like anyone but themselves. Duros — space wanderers — quietly despise everyone else. Neimoidians hate every primitive world different from their own. Trandoshans consider Wookiees their natural slaves. And no one likes those poor, inferior cloned idiots from some high-tech planet."
"You mean clones?" I started to get angry, but Jabba waved a hand dismissively.
"No. Don't you know that most Kaminoans are descendants of clones? Or first-generation clones? That they carefully select their race based solely on eye color?" The Hutt's vertical pupils stared at me intently.
"This is the first time I've heard of it," I admitted honestly. "No, I apologize — I've heard something like that."
"That's exactly it. Their race was on the brink of extinction. Natural disasters devastated their planet. All the Kaminoan continents were buried under kilometers of water. The population dwindled to a few hundred thousand, so they turned to cloning. They perfected the technology, survived, and later turned it into a business."
Jabba paused to catch his breath, then continued.
"You humans are quite an enterprising and prolific race. Over tens of thousands of years, you've settled worlds that left little room for others. Humans control all the important hyperspace routes. The majority of the galaxy's industrial capacity is concentrated in human hands: Kuat, Corellia, Alsakan, Rendili, Denon, Humbarine, Alderaan, Naboo… The list goes on and on."
"And all the other races watched this in silence?" I asked, genuinely interested. Jabba hadn't said anything I didn't already know… well, almost nothing. But I hadn't considered all these facts in quite this context before.
"It becomes obvious to those who watch, Marek. Anvis Eddicus, Saynet Mezzilin, Aixes Valorum, Vayla Pesivas, Toris Darus, Phrix Pesivas, Kalpana Eddicus, Finis Valorum, and now Sheev Palpatine. These are all your Chancellors, Jedi, who have come and gone in the time I've been alive. And these are only the ones I remember. You don't remember them anymore — to you, they're history. But the main thing is, there's not a single non-human among them. There was one Rodian about five hundred years ago, but that's all."
"There are so many similar names. And yet the first Chancellor after Ruusan was also… Valorum! Aren't there too many coincidences?"
"Hm. Am I right in saying they're related? You know, all these Valorums?"
"You're right, Jedi. Representatives of this venerable family have held the Chancellor's post for many generations, alternating with other families. It's quite possible that ten years ago your Palpatine was elected by a majority vote because they wanted to get rid of the hereditary democrats."
"But… if people are not liked, then why are they elected to the post of Chancellor?"
"It's quite simple. People aren't liked, but at least everyone has gotten used to you over these many years. If a human holds the position, then everyone is, relatively speaking, equal."
Jabba laughed — or at least made the deep, rumbling sound a Hutt would consider laughter. I smiled diplomatically in return and took another drag. The clouds of smoke we were exhaling had already gathered near the ceiling. This entire atmosphere of privacy was strangely conducive to honest conversation. And although we had strayed far from the original topic of negotiations, I was in no hurry to interrupt him. First, it would be impolite. Second, he was telling me very important and interesting things. It was fascinating to see the galaxy through someone else's eyes for once.
"But choosing someone from another species? At the expense of their own? No, Dagon, no one would agree to that. Especially since humans invented 'democracy' for themselves and are now forced to follow it. And that means that while humans are in power, the other species enjoy relative independence and freedom. As soon as one species gains too much economic strength, humans immediately help them crush all the others lagging behind. Remember Malastare — when the Gran finally crossed all boundaries, the Senate voted overwhelmingly and let you Jedi off the leash. That's how you live. Who will outsmart whom. Who will protest whom."
"Well, yes… the image of the Senate from Episode I is right there in my head. And Episode II is no better. And the third, with its 'applause'… Jabba is right. Oh, he's right… The galaxy does not live by the Sith alone."
"And now?" I leaned forward.
"Look at what's happening in the galaxy, Jedi. What is this if not a war motivated by xenophobia? The Separatists are supported primarily by the fringe worlds — the planets of the Mid and Outer Rim. The Republic — by the worlds of the Core and the Colonies. Look at your leaders, those who are now at their zenith: Palpatine, Organa, Amidala… And look at the leadership of the Confederacy: the Neimoidian Nute Gunray, the Skakoan Wat Tambor, the Geonosian Archduke Poggle the Lesser, the Gossam Shu Mai, the Muun San Hill, the Koorivar Passel Argente, the Quarren Tikkes, the Aqualish Po Nudo… Shall I continue, Jedi?" Jabba gave me a patronizing look.
I took a silent drag and blew the smoke straight at the ceiling. It finally dawned on me — like a stupid, long-necked, mutant giraffe.
The galaxy would have burned anyway. And in such a way that everyone would have had fun. A lot of fun. And the current Republic would hardly have been able to cope with such a conflagration. Not with the current Senate, not with the current Order. The Senate, mired in its own squabbles, was useless, and the Jedi… there were simply too few of us for a war of this scale. We wouldn't have been able to keep the situation under control. The galaxy would have fallen apart.
And then Palpatine appeared on the horizon, letting off steam through a conflict he could control. He identified the factions, grouped them, organized them like chess pieces, subordinated them to a leader he had chosen, ensured they could be countered — and played out the war like a game.
More accurately, he was playing around with reality. Reflecting on my memories, it was very easy to lose track. Sure, not everything had gone exactly as in canon — partly thanks to me, Jabiim for example — but Palpatine had skillfully smoothed out all the rough edges. Almost all of them.
All major battles were fought either in space or on sparsely populated planets, using clone armies and droid armies. Palpatine had even foreseen civilian casualties. The sparsely populated Outer Rim territories, where the CIS had established itself, didn't need to recruit organics — the Separatists churned out droids instead. The cost of assembling one droid was far less than training and equipping one capable soldier. And the psychological impact was incomparable.
The Republic was fighting for clones who, essentially, no one needed and no one would truly mourn. Citizens weren't dying in droves, and who would count the residents of Jabiim who perished? A drop in the ocean… the bulk of the population would remain safe and sound.
Palpatine wanted to rule a populated galaxy, not one ravaged by war and massive loss of life.
As for humans… considering Jabba's words as a fulcrum, Palpatine's bet on humans became crystal clear. There were simply more of them. He knew how to manipulate sentient beings, and humans were no exception.
He had given people hope — the chance for a new future — and they had seized it. They eagerly joined the civil service and the army. You wouldn't find many Caamasi or Gran in the auxiliary forces — most were human or closely related races. Such an upsurge hadn't been seen in fifteen hundred years. Palpatine had put the ambitions of the human race to his service. One could only… sympathize with him. It was truly a titanic labor… a Sisyphean labor.
Yes, Palpatine had become Emperor with unlimited power, destroyed the Jedi, built a huge army and navy, and…
And then you begin to wonder how he could have lost it all… You can't help but agree with Qui-Gon and his Living Force, which favors balance. At first, it had played along with the Sith — here Yoda's "blindness" became clear. And then, when the seesaw swung to the opposite end, it began to play along with the Jedi. But such swings had a negative impact on the entire galaxy, as the fluctuations only subsided after a long time.
I must have been silent for at least ten minutes. When I finally looked at Jabba again, he asked:
"Tell me, Marek… will the Republic win this war?"
"I can't tell you that. But I'm sure the Separatists will lose. It's only a matter of time."
"But doesn't the defeat of the Confederacy of Independent Systems mean a victory for the Republic? Your victory?"
"Not at all."
"Even so?" Jabba looked at me with some surprise… but only for a few seconds. Then he nodded understandingly.
"Exactly so."
Having collected my thoughts, I asked, "Well then… let's get down to business. As far as I know, your clan is a member of the Great Council. But can you speak on its behalf? Other clans may disagree with your decision."
"They will agree. Other sentient beings throw words and promises to the wind without considering the consequences, but not us. For the Hutts, words are not empty. When you deliver Ziro, he will appear before the Council and be judged and punished for his crimes. We rely on the voice of reason, Jedi. I gave my word that we would conclude a treaty, and we will. However, a few planets — such as Toydaria or Rodia — over which we have only limited influence, will be outside this treaty. I speak for Hutt Space, not our zone of influence."
"I understand that. And also that the terms of this agreement must be drawn up with the utmost care to avoid any misunderstandings later," I said, getting to the point.
"What can the Republic offer us?" Jabba asked lazily.
"I think so: Republic ships are granted free passage through Hutt territory and can freely use hyperlanes running within your borders. However, planetary operations are only permitted with the permission of the Hutt Council. Hutt Space also remains neutral in the war, and if the CIS attacks you, the Republic pledges to provide protection. At the same time, Hutt Space remains closed to Separatist ships. To prevent their attempts to penetrate your territory, we will establish patrols along the borders of Hutt Space."
"This could have a significant impact on trade. The Republic will detain our ships — they'll be on the borders, after all, but not in our space? I can't agree to such a proposal."
"I understand your concerns, Jabba. But I have an offer that will satisfy you."
"Go ahead."
"The Hutt clans issue ships special passes, with a registration number, as required. If a ship has such a pass, the Republic is obligated to allow it through without any inspection. The pass will be valid within your territory and, say, a hundred light-years beyond it. Naturally, such passes won't be free: ship captains will pay you for them. Violators and those who forge passes can be severely punished. Meanwhile, your competitors elsewhere in the galaxy will be deprived of this privilege, and the Republic will continue to pursue criminals."
Jabba thought for a long moment. I didn't rush him. In this small, smoky room on this backwater planet, great politics — even history — was being made.
Finally, the Hutt gave a good-natured chuckle.
"I like your proposal. It promises a nice profit, since the war won't be over in a month or two… What's your interest? There's no benefit to the Republic in turning a blind eye to 'pirates' and 'smugglers'?"
"There is a benefit for me personally. Five percent to the account I specify."
Jabba waved the mouthpiece in surprise.
"I never cease to be amazed at how people can combine the qualities of different races. You can be more enterprising than Toydarians, and more vicious than Gamorreans. Sometimes you can even surpass the Hutts in their passion for money. Two."
"Maybe because we live shorter lives, but we need to get more done? Twenty."
"I thought Jedi renounced material goods."
"Don't judge all Jedi by just one. After all, you're no ordinary Hutt yourself," I attempted to blow a smoke ring dramatically, and almost succeeded. "It's no secret that the other Hutts disapprove of your infatuation with dancers and the large sums of money you spend on them. However… perhaps they don't understand beauty?"
"And where will you spend this money?"
"I don't need to tell you that war is too expensive. And the Republic is in no hurry to open its wallet. So you have to make do as best you can."
Jabba chuckled again.
"Hmm… ten and a half percent, Jedi. That's my final word. For the war will last long enough and the profits will be considerable."
"Okay. But I have no doubt you can recoup the losses from the other Hutt clans, demanding the same percentage from them." I paused briefly. "Next… I have another proposal. The Republic agrees to purchase a certain amount of food from the Hutts every month, to be donated as humanitarian aid to planets affected by the war. However, given that the purchases will be made regardless of the current situation, and that the Republic is prepared to make an advance payment, your reciprocal action — as a gesture of goodwill — could be to sell this same food at pre-war prices, which, as you know, have now skyrocketed significantly."
"Your Senate is willing to spend so much money on charity, but won't pay for war? Truly, strange things are happening in your Republic."
I could only shrug my shoulders.
"This is our Senate."
"Such a Senate is beneficial to us. We are ready to provide the Republic… seven hundred and fifty million tons of food monthly. And not just at pre-war prices, but at a discount. As a gesture of goodwill, we will knock off… two and a half percent."
I burst out laughing at Jabba's joke.
The conversation continued late into the afternoon, clauses and counter-clauses exchanged in the smoky, intimate chamber. History, politics, profit, and survival — all woven together in the language of the Hutts.
Outside, the desert winds howled. Inside, a fragile bridge between two ancient enemies was slowly being built — one puff of smoke, one careful word at a time.
Chapter 302 ends.