THE HUTT GAMBI(73)
Jabba licked his tongue over the edges of his lipless mouth, as though he’d tasted something particularly sweet. “Aunt, I like the way you think.”
“We must send Shild a message,” Jiliac decided. “And gifts …
expensive ones, so he will pay attention. You know how greedy he is.
Surely he will … see reason.”
“Surely,” Jabba agreed. “But who will carry the message?”
Jiliac thought for a moment, then the corners of her huge, wide mouth turned up. “I know just the sentient …”
9
Playthings for the Moff
Han Solo stood before Jiliac’s dais, eyes wide. His mouth dropped open.
“You want me to what?”
“Careful, Captain Solo,” Jabba cautioned. “You must address the Lady Jiliac with respect.”
Han ignored the Hutt Lord. “But… but…” he sputtered, “that’s crazy!
That’s like asking me to point a gun at my own head and pull the trigger!
We all heard Shild, how he was cracking down on smugglers. In case it’s escaped your notice, Your Ladyship, I’m a smuggler”—he jerked his thumb at his own chest—”and if I walk into Sarn Shild’s place to give him your gifts and your message, that’ll be the last free walk I ever take! No! I ain’t doing it!”
Inwardly he was a little surprised at his own temerity in speaking to the powerful Hutt leaders in such a manner, but Jiliac’s calm request had roused his temper. Just who did the Hutts think they were, anyhow?
“Captain Solo.” Jiliac did not take umbrage at Han’s words or tone.
“Calm yourself. We will provide you with new clothing, the best of faked IDs, and one of our own courier vessels. No one will know you are Han Solo, smuggler. All they will know is that you are a diplomatic envoy from Nal Hutta, duly authorized and designated to deliver our message and our gifts.”
Han took a deep breath. Under those circumstances, maybe …
“What is it worth to you, to get your message delivered?” he asked, finally.
“Ten thousand credits,” Jiliac said, without batting an eye.
Han gasped. That much—For just flying to Coruscant and back?”
He stared at the Hutt leaders for a moment, then turned to Chewbacca.
“What do you think, pal?”
Chewie was plainly as torn as he was. The big Wookiee grumbled and rumbled, then finally commented that with that kind of money, they could start saving for a ship they could buy. But it was Han who’d be risking his skin, he added, so the final decision should be Han’s.
The Corellian thought for another moment, then turned back to Jiliac and Jabba. “All right,” he said. “I’ll do it for ten thousand. All of it in advance.”
Jabba began to protest, but Jiliac shushed him with a gesture. “Very well, Captain. Ten thousand in advance. When can you leave?”
“If you can get me the IDs and vessel today,” Han said grimly, “we’ll leave tomorrow morning.”
“It shall be done,” Jiliac said.
The Hutt leader was as good as her word. By the next morning, Han had received excellent faked IDs, identifying him as one Jobekk Jonn, official Hutt diplomatic envoy. The ship was a speedy little Corellian courier vessel named Quicksilver. Han was given a suit of clothing better than anything he’d ever even touched before—a tomuon-wool jacket and trousers, cut in the very latest style.
At Chewie’s suggestion, Han cultivated a short beard during the time it took them to fly to Coruscant. When they docked at one of Coruscant’s many spacedocks, he slicked his hair straight back from his brow, and was amazed at how different he looked. The spiffy gray suit made him look like a bureaucrat, completely erasing all traces of the smuggler.
“I feel naked without my blaster,” Han grumbled. “But they restrict weapons here on Coruscant … I mean, Imperial Center. Besides . .
. I guess diplomatic envoys don’t wear guns.”
Chewie commented sadly that Han no longer looked scruffy, in approved Wookiee fashion. Instead he appeared as sleek and polished as lapistone.
“Trust me, pal, I can’t wait till I can turn back into myself,” Han said.
Then, picking up his package of gifts, and the holocube message from Jiliac and the Grand Council of Nal Hutta, Han left Quicksilver and took a shuttle down to Imperial Center.
Being back in the Imperial capital city brought back a lot of memories, most of them unpleasant ones. Bria had left him on Coruscant. Here he’d been hunted across the rooftops by Garris Shrike. His courtmartial had taken place in the headquarters of the Imperial Navy .
. .
Han already had the address for the Moff. Shild maintained several residences on different worlds, but at the moment, he was in Imperial Center, attending conferences on law and order in the Empire.