Sins of the Father/Part 7

Suwo Tolp, Demolitions Master of the Jedi Order, had had a peculiar talent for sweeping a setting with a single glance—a room, a building, or even, in one memorable case, a multitrack municipal mag-lev junction—and intuiting where to place charges to bring it down. Though handier with a bomb than many Jedi, Tirien Kal-Di had not absorbed that ability from his late master. He had, however, inherited the core skill—quickly analyzing a situation for the key information. It had carried him through many missions, both with Suwo and since his master's death, but on Cirumctore, at long last, Tirien thought he might have met his match.

There was so much to take in that, every time he ran another look over the multispecies multitude milling about Runganna's palace, he saw another detail he'd missed. Overlooking two Mandalorians was a particularly egregious oversight, but a few more looks gave him no more than he had gleaned the first time. Had Slejux come, even with his peculiar perceptions, he probably could have gathered more from the style of their armor—though he enjoyed survey knowledge of most of galactic history, Tirien's detailed historical scholarship was usually limited to how it interacted with politics. But that very political focus warned him how badly things might turn out if the two Mandalorians had also come to bid.

And the Mandalorians were only a single point of concern. Most of the Hutts were intelligent enough not to wear signs identifying their kajidics, but a few had necklaces or tattoos; Suwo had once made Tirien memorize all the kajidic symbols, and though he had forgotten several and had yet to see the particularly fearsome Desilijic or Besadii, he put enough sigils to clan names to appreciate that Runganna had attracted more than just a token crowd of junior Hutts. Several slavers were in the crowd too; Tirien did not think his Padawan had yet noticed a few Zygerrians skulking around the edges of Runganna's sprawling courtyards, and he did not look forward to the moment when she did. Runganna's Sakiyan, whom Tirien took for a lieutenant at least, also boded ill; used to relying on his mind as much as his blade, Tirien appreciated the danger of a species which could fight battles of wits with a deck stacked in its favor.

Tirien felt his brain overloading from trying to process everything, catalogue all the details and assess the implications of every threat; the Force could identify dangers and immediate concerns, but could not conduct a political analysis or gather the subtle details essential to intelligence work. Of course, keeping one eye on Narasi to make sure she didn't do anything foolish added another complication. Tirien had been distracted enough to not really consider the implications of his own intervention—if he was being honest, he hadn't thought much beyond abating Narasi's fury and his own Jedi instinct to help. And because he hadn't thought the situation all the way through or tried to get a read on the Human's mind, he had missed the man's pridefulness and short fuse, and so begun a chain reaction that had ended in death. Five minutes in Runganna's palace showed life was cheap in Hutt Space, but it couldn't be for a Jedi.

Narasi leaned against him—just slight pressure, arm on arm, but enough to focus his attention. He might have chided her for the suggestion of weakness among beings who would pounce on the first sign of it, but he sensed his Padawan's inner turmoil and gave her a nudge in the Force instead. When she got herself together and straightened up, Tirien stretched out with the Force, sifting through the low-level hum of danger all around for the critical points, the next moment and the moment after that, the path that would carry them to success in their mission.

"Master, can we talk in private for a minute?"

Tirien looked at Narasi, about to remind her that they had just arrived, but the words never made it to his lips; something in her eyes showed him she was more rattled than he had expected. She swallowed. "Please?"

She could not go on distracted by whatever was gnawing at her, and distraction might cause her to miss something important or get hurt. He opened his mouth, but more horns blew, and Tirien sensed the wave of anticipation in the Force; this would not be another display of slaves. Controlling reflexive annoyance and centering himself in the moment and the Force, he promised his Padawan, "Hold that thought."

"The Illustrious and Mighty Lady Runganna!"

Though young for a Hutt, Runganna was larger than a few of those Tirien had seen, though he was sure her gleaming durasteel armor added some heft. Her helmet was studded with a crown of horns like a Zabrak's—or perhaps, Tirien thought, it was simply supposed to be a crown. The armor was segmented like a crustacean's to give Runganna freedom of movement for her slug body, but the plates overlapped at the joints, and as Tirien shifted for a better look, he saw an armorweave mesh below. Her gauntlets ended in talons and razor-sharp spines ran down her back.

Runganna drifted forward on the repulsors that studded the underbelly of her armor, waving to the cheers and applause that greeted her arrival. Some of the same armored bodyguards who had slaughtered the Human accompanied her, mixed in among lesser threats like Klatooinians and Gamorreans with melee weapons. Tirien knew he should recognize the armored beings—though not identical, they shared a style of armor, and they moved in such a way that Tirien deduced they had cybernetic upgrades—but the name eluded him. The savage, barely-restrained thirst for blood he could feel in their minds suggested they would not care much about any mistakes they made defending their mistress, but it was their shooting precision that made him cautious. He could feel a link among them; it was not the Force and did not feel like telepathy, but their minds were too well-coordinated for their precision to be training alone.

Runganna came to a halt, and all of her cyborgs halted as one—all the more noticeable, as the other guards stopped at so many different times. Runganna popped the seals on her helmet; Tirien was mildly impressed to see she could lift it off herself. She handed it off to a Gamorrean, blinked her big green eyes, and stretched her lipless mouth into a smile.

"Welcome, welcome," she said in Huttese. "So pleased to see so many friends and business associates here to help me celebrate. So many acquaintances to make and renew, so much pleasure to indulge, so many deals to be made!  I intend to make this the grandest fête Circumtore has ever seen!  So enjoy the entertainment and we'll celebrate day and night—eat and drink, friends, it's paid for already!  And that's not even my biggest expense!"

Several of the Hutts chuckled while other species applauded. Narasi half-raised her hands, looking at Tirien for guidance, but he shook his head and she lowered them again. As conversations broke out and the music resumed, Tirien tugged his Padawan forward. She asked, "Are we gonna go talk to her?"

"In a minute," Tirien said. "Observe first."

Many beings sought this first moment to see Runganna, and, as Tirien had expected, quite a few paid for their brazenness. Some her Sakiyan lieutenant brushed off with advice to approach her at some nebulous "later"; others the Gamorreans manhandled away without so much as a grunt. No Hutt was stopped, but some were allowed to approach with their bodyguards and others were not. Tirien wondered if the Sakiyan was making the decisions until he noticed the man consulting a wrist-mounted datapad. Realizing there were too many beings for even a Sakiyan to have prepared responses to all of them, Tirien watched the Hutt herself as the next few supplicants approached and noticed Runganna squeezing her armored fingers, sending some sort of signal of approval or rejection.

"You understand?" Tirien whispered.

Narasi nodded; something was still bothering her, but she had composed her face. "If this thing is gonna be multiple days, should we hang back and just watch today?"

It was not a bad idea, and Tirien was tempted, but after a moment's thought he shook his head. "She invited us today—perhaps just to waste our time, but she still expected us to arrive today. Presenting ourselves tomorrow might be taken as a slight."

Narasi made a face. "So we have to suck up to some—"

"Yes," Tirien interjected. He doubted anyone could hear her low voice, but he was also not sure what word was coming next, and knowing Narasi, it would not be one he wanted to get back to Runganna. "Come."

They waited in the wings, partygoers of a dozen species passing by, until Runganna had finished a chat with a Gorensla Hutt. Tirien caught the Sakiyan's eye and arched his chin, and after studying his datapad for a moment—longer than a "yes" or "no" should have taken—the man looked up and nodded. Tirien and Narasi advanced, only to have a Gamorrean plant a meaty hand on Tirien's chest.

"You no come," he grunted in something resembling Huttese.

Tirien glanced at the Sakiyan, whose contained, courteous smile belied the sly satisfaction in his powerful mind, and at once he understood the ploy: how powerful must Runganna be if she could dismiss Jedi and they had no choice but to slink away and await her pleasure! Tirien felt the eyes on them; many beings had focused when they saw the Jedi approaching Runganna and were monitoring the results. To defy Runganna's will might court her wrath…but to submit would shame the Jedi and the Republic in a single capitulation, and that would be the more fatal blow.

The Gamorrean poked Tirien, who said, "Narasi? A chance for practice."

"A chance…oh." She stepped up to his side, smiled at the Gamorrean, waved a hand, pushed on his mind, and said in Basic, "Not without you, we won't! You'll have to escort us!"

The Gamorrean blinked his deep-set pig eyes, grunted, and turned around on the spot, beckoning them to follow. "I 'scort. C'mon."

The Sakiyan's eyes widened and several of the guards' confusion flooded the Force as the two Jedi followed in the Gamorrean's wake—they could almost fit side-by-side behind him. A Nikto guard reached out a hand to stop them, leaving him exposed to the Gamorrean's ferocious sucker punch; he spun a complete circle before collapsing. Tirien caught a flicker in the Force and glanced at the Sakiyan; the lieutenant was not smiling now, and his brain was racing.

One of the armored cyborg bodyguards stepped forward, brushed the Gamorrean aside, and poked Tirien in the chest, hard. "You're not supposed to be here!"

Narasi hissed under her breath, but Tirien folded his hands and kept his face neutral. "Lady Runganna invited us."

He looked up at the Hutt as he spoke and bowed his head. She appraised him, but the bodyguard poked Tirien again. "Back off, Jedi. HEY!  Look at me!"

Runganna did not comment, and Tirien sensed a mix of amusement and intrigue as she waited to see what he would do. On the third poke, Tirien took his eyes off the Hutt and looked into the small eye shields on the front of the bodyguard's helmet. Hardening his voice, Tirien said, "I wouldn't do that again if I were you."

Anticipation, anger, and fear bubbled up in the Force around them, and Narasi tensed in response, pulling the Force into herself to charge her body for action. Tirien let the Force reach into him, and he followed its command to wait the heartbeat it took for the bodyguard's wrath to peak. The cyborg's hand flew to his holstered pistol, but Tirien opened his, and the armored hand closed around air and leather as the pistol shot into Tirien's grip. Holding it by the barrel, he brought the handle down on the helmet so hard he dented it and it rang like a bell.

The bodyguard staggered back, clutching his head with both hands; the others tensed, but Tirien handed the pistol off to Narasi. She took it, ejected the power pack, and tried to disassemble it; once she realized it would take too long to figure out, she pulled some of the Force into her arms to supplement her natural strength and bent the blaster barrel to a ninety degree angle. As she tossed the weapon aside, Tirien threw back his hood and looked up at Runganna, folding his hands again and waiting for her answer.

The Jedi and the Hutt studied each other for a long moment. Then Runganna gave a deep, belly laugh, clapping her armored hands together with ringing clangs. "Ho ho ha ha.  So, the Republic sends me my Jedi after all!"

The bodyguards stood down, still radiating hostility but restrained by their master for the moment. Tirien saw her need to save face in front of her guests, and he bowed, allowing it. "Of course, Lady Runganna. On behalf of the Republic and the Jedi Order, allow me to congratulate you on your new shell.  May your riches be such that your girth demands eight more."

Runganna grinned. "A Jedi who knows how to talk to a lady, at that. And you are?"

"Tirien Kal-Di. This—"

A rumble of commentary around the room cut Tirien off. Runganna's eyes narrowed, but more from shrewdness than hostility, Tirien thought. "The famous Wroonian Jedi?"

Tirien sensed the snicker his apprentice was struggling to contain. Holding in a sigh, he corrected, "Pantoran. This is my Padawan, Narasi Rican."

Narasi lowered her hood too, but Tirien noticed the whispered comments and flickers of interest and hostility in the Force started before she revealed herself.

"Er…bo chooda, Lurda," Narasi said.

Runganna groaned, frowning and swiping an armored hand. "Bah! Your Huttese hurts my ears, Zygerrian.  Speak Basic if you must, I can understand."

Admiring his Padawan's presence of mind, Tirien translated Runganna's words into Basic for effect. Narasi bowed with a convincing chastened look, and Tirien said, "We're honored to be your guests for this celebration, and we look forward to participating in the auction."

"Oh, I imagine you do," Runganna replied. She had recovered her sly grin, and her reptilian eyes gleamed in a way Tirien didn't trust. "I hope the Republic isn't too inconvenienced if you expected it today."

Tirien matched her smile. "Enjoying your presence for a few extra days? All my services to the Order together haven't merited me such a reward."

Runganna chortled, which was fortunate, because Narasi groaned under her breath at the same moment. The Hutt said, "I'm sure it will be quite the event. But no more talk of business!  Eat and drink, my Jedi, and enjoy all the pleasures Hutt Space can provide!"

Recognizing the dismissal, Tirien bowed, and to his relief Narasi did the same. He led her away, but stopped by the Sakiyan and said, "We'll speak later about business, I trust."

Whatever was going on behind those silver-blue eyes happened too quickly for Tirien to follow; the Sakiyan nodded after a moment. "As you say, Master Jedi."

The two Jedi moved away and Tirien opened his perceptions to the wider room, feeling out reactions. The Hutts reserved their judgment, which was better than dismissing the Jedi as non-entities; while some of the others felt of awe bordering on fear, other minds relished the challenge of facing worthy opponents. Tirien thought to get a sense for the pair of Mandalorians, but even as he cast about for them, he was distracted by heat in the Force, a naked flame in the mind that would singe if he came too close.

"Master…" Narasi warned.

So intent on the Force's guidance, Tirien's conscious mind had not processed what his ears had realized: part of the crowd had grown quiet, and the silence was spreading. When he followed his Padawan's gaze, he discovered they had greater concerns than Mandalorians.