“Yes, Your Excellency,” she replied.
Just then a group of guards came stampeding up the corridor, forcepikes ready. Jabba whirled to block their way. The Gamorreans blinked at him in dull surprise. “My aunt is having one of her temper fits,” he said. “You are not needed.”
The leader of the guards looked doubtful, but Jabba did not move, and he could not see for himself what was going on. He hesitated, his porcine snout quivering with the urge to fight.
“I said, you are dismissed!” Jabba bellowed, waving his arms at the guards. They turned, grunting and snorting, and went trotting back down the hall.
Han glanced into the audience chamber and saw Jiliac bring her tail down with stunning force. The smaller Hutt barely managed to dodge out of the way in time. The Corellian looked at Jabba. “You don’t want to stop it?”
Chewbacca echoed Han’s question.
Jabba blinked at them, his bulbous eyes full of cunning. “Durga is the leader of Besadii clan,” he said. “Whichever of them wins, I win.”
“But …” Han stammered, “I … I thought you were fond of your aunt.”
Jabba looked at him as though he were a retarded Gamorrean child. “I am, Han,” he said, gently. “But this is business.”
Han nodded and glanced at Chewie. He shrugged. “Sure. Business.”
“And, Han?” “Yes, Jabba?”
The Hutt leader waved Han away. “This is no place for a human, lad.
Wait for me at my palace. I will join you later.”
No place for a human? Han wanted to say, but what about her? He glanced at the beautiful woman, and their eyes met. Han stared at her for a long second, and realized that there was something not right about this woman Jabba called Guri. She was perfect, but, after looking into her eyes, Han realized that all his instincts were telling him to give her a wide berth.
He would no more have put his arms around her than he would have cuddled a deadly viper.
“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Later, Jabba. C’mon, Chewie.”
Turning, Han and the Wookiee hurried away without looking back.
Durga was getting desperate. Despite his best efforts to wear Jiliac down, exhaust her, the older Hutt was still fighting with grim purpose.
She was much stronger and heavier than he was, and if just one of her blows landed full-on, Durga knew he’d be little more than a grease spot on the floor.
They rammed each other for the umpteenth time, their chests crashing together with such force that Durga cried out. He was bruised over every centimeter of his body—he felt like a piece of dough, pounded and rolled out to make flatbread.
The long fight had taken them clear around the huge chamber, as the smashed furnishings and the holes in the walls testified. Durga suddenly realized they were approaching Jiliac’s sled. She must have realized it, too, for suddenly she disengaged, and, wheeling around, she glided toward the repulsor sled at her fastest speed, wheezing and sobbing for breath.
Durga was right behind her, overhauling her. It was obvious to him that Jiliac intended to mount the sled, then use it as a battering ram against him. If she got atop it, he was finished!
He caught up to Jiliac, heading for the controls, only to gasp and dodge as the Desilijic leader swept her tail in a hard arc under the sled, aiming for his face.
Durga reacted without conscious thought. Rolling forward onto his chest, bracing himself on his hands, he flipped his tail up over the top of his head. Aiming carefully, he aimed the tip-end of his tail on the way down, sending it slamming into the “Power On” button on the sled, depressing it.
The repulsor sled fell like a stone, straight down onto Jiliac’s tail, pinning it firmly.
Jiliac screeched with pain, struggling to yank her tail free. As he rolled back upright, Durga realized that she wasn’t going to manage that.
Wriggling backward, he positioned himself, then brought his tail down on Jiliac’s head with all his strength.
The Desilijic leader screamed.
Durga slammed into her head again. And again …
It took five hard blows to drive Jiliac into unconsciousness. Die! he thought, walloping sodden flesh. “Die!” he bellowed. “DIE!”
He wasn’t sure when she died, actually. At some point Durga became aware he was pounding mindlessly on what was now a bloody, crushed ruin of flesh and brain matter. Jiliac’s eyes were smashed holes, and her slimy tongue lolled from her mouth.
Durga forced himself to halt, to look around. At the entrance to the room, Guri stood beside Jabba. Somehow Xizor’s assassin had prevented the guards—and Jabba—from entering. Whatever the young woman was, she was more than she seemed, Durga decided, his mind dull with exhaustion.