Jiliac’s yacht had been hijacked by some of the defenders of Nar Shaddaa, and had suffered considerable damage in the battle. For a long time Jabba and his aunt had thought the ship lost altogether, then a Hutt smuggler had spotted the vessel drifting among the abandoned hulks that were scattered in orbit surrounding the Smuggler’s Moon.
Jabba had ordered the Pearl towed into spacedock, and had spent a goodly sum in bribes, but he’d never been able to discover which of the smugglers had hijacked the vessel and used it in the battle.
In the old days, Jabba reflected sadly, news of her precious ship would have been of major concern to his aunt. But the Dragon Pearl had been damaged because Jiliac had forgotten to have the ship brought safely to Nal Hutta before the battle. “The stress of motherhood,” as she’d put it.
Well, the “stress of motherhood” had cost Desilijic well over fifty thousand credits in repairs. Just because Jiliac had been careless.
Jabba sighed, and absently reached for a wriggler from his aunt’s snackquarium. He heard a snort, then a buzzing nasal rumble, and turned to see that Jiliac’s massive eyes were closed, and her mouth was half open as she snored.
Jabba sighed again, and went back to work ….
That same night, Durga the Hutt was eating his evening repast with his cousin, Zier. Durga did not like Zier, and he knew that the other Hutt lord was his chief rival for the leadership of Besadii, but he tolerated him because Zier knew better than to oppose Durga in any overt fashion.
Remembering Aruk’s advice to “keep your friends close … and your enemies even closer,” Durga had informally made Zier his lieutenant, entrusting him with matters pertaining to the administration of Besadii clan’s vast Nal Hutta enterprises.
Durga kept Zier on a very short leash, however, and trusted him not at all. The two Hutt lords fenced back and forth verbally as they ate, each watching the other as a predator regards prey.
Just as Durga was lifting a particularly succulent morsel to his mouth, his majordomo, a servile, pale Chevin humanoid, appeared. “Master, there has been a message sent. You are to expect an important holotransmission from Coruscant within a few minutes. Do you wish to take it here?”
Durga gave Zier a quick glance. “No. I’ll take it in my office.”
He undulated after the Chevin, Osman, until he reached his office.
The “connection” light was just beginning to flash. Is it Myk Bidlor with news about the substance found in my parent’s brain tissues? the Hutt wondered.
He had clearly gained the impression from the human that it would be some time, perhaps months, before they would complete their investigation.
Waving the bowing Chevin humanoid out of the room, Durga activated the security locks, keyed on the “shielded frequency” field, and then accepted the communication.
A blond human female suddenly stood before him, nearly lifesized.
Durga wasn’t very familiar with human standards of attractiveness, but he recognized that she appeared fit and limber. “Lord Durga,” she said. “I am Guri, aide to Prince Xizor. The prince would like to speak with you personally.”
Oh, no! If Durga had been human, he would have broken out in a sweat.
But Hutts did not sweat, though their pores did secrete an oily substance that kept their skin comfortably moist and slick.
Aruk the Hutt had not raised a fool, however, so none of Durga’s unease showed. Instead he inclined his head, the closest a Hutt could come to a humanoid bow. “The prince honors me.”
Before Durga’s eyes, the figure of Guri stepped to one side of the transmission field, and was almost instantly replaced by the tall, imposing form of the Falleen prince, Xizor, the leader of the huge criminal empire known as Black Sun.
Xizor’s people, the Falleen, had evolved from a reptilian species, though the prince was very humanoid in appearance. His skin had a definite greenish cast, and his eyes were flat and expressionless. His body was muscled and lithe, and might have been in his mid-thirties (though Durga knew his age was closer to one hundred). Xizor’s skull was bare save for a topknot of long black hair that fell to his shoulders. He wore an expensive surcoat over a one-piece garment that resembled a pilot’s jumpsuit.
As Durga gazed at Xizor, the leader of Black Sun inclined his head in a faint nod. “Greetings, Lord Durga. It has been several months since I have heard from you, so I thought it best to see for myself that you are well.
How is Besadii doing in the wake of your esteemed parent’s untimely death?”
“Besadii is doing well, Your Highness,” Durga said. “Your help was most appreciated, I assure you.”
When Durga had first succeeded to the leadership of Besadii, he’d faced so much opposition from other leaders in the clan—mostly due to the young Hutt’s unfortunate facial birthmark, which Hutt lore held to be an extremely bad omen—that he’d had to ask Prince Xizor for help.