CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

NEW MANAGEMENT

“Mighty Vago, may her wisdom never ebb, will see you now,” said the newly polished jade-green H-3PO unit at the doorway. If it recognized Mander Zuma from previous encounters, it gave no sign. The door irised open behind it.

They were aboard the Imru Ootmian, perched on the borders of Hutt space. Off the port bow hung the heavy presence of the Resolute, about as close to the Hutt worlds as it could be without creating a diplomatic incident. After the action over Varl, Mander was sure that Lieutenant Commander Angela Krin had every weapon aboard trained on Vago and the Hutt’s luxury yacht.

Mander Zuma flexed his fingers as he followed the droid into the audience chamber. His wounded hand had mostly healed, but he still felt a dull pain when he made a fist. He resolved to avoid making a fist.

The room was as before, yet different. The three alcoves were still there, but only the central one was apparently in use. Nikto guards were present, but no Wookiees or Twi’lek servants now. The only other beings present were several other gleaming H-3POs, and they all looked like they had just been uncrated.

In the center of the room was a holographic projection of a burial shrine, probably on Nal Hutta. It showed a great vault cut into the mountainside, overshadowed by a hulking statue of Popara Anjiliac. In the foreground, surrounded by Hutt mourners, were three bandaged ovoid forms readied for internment: one large, one of medium size, and one that seemed too small for a Hutt.

Mander knew that only the middle-sized form contained a real body, that of Zonnos. Of Popara there was only enough to load into a burial effigy, and Mika’s ashes were haunting the poisoned atmosphere of Varl.

Vago said, “Gon kodowin pumba mallin,” and the droid on her flank immediately translated it to “Your efforts were sufficient.” Vago knew that Mander understood her, but let the droid translate anyway.

“It is good to see that the Hutt patrol ships found your escape pod,” said Mander, keeping his tone light and level. “We could not remain long to ascertain your safety.”

Vago the Hutt let out a rolling belch, and the droid was not far behind with the translation into Basic: “Mighty Vago has no regrets for her opportune departure. She states that it was imperative that one of our group survive to report back. Your status was unknown, and the others would not leave without you.”

“The lieutenant commander wishes to convey that she holds no harsh feelings for your actions,” lied Mander, but he followed it with a truth. “She is more concerned with the status of the Tempest trade.”

“The Tempest trade is no more,” said Vago, through the droid. “The Hutt Council of Elders has been informed only that unscrupulous individuals have been landing on our blessed original homeworld. The council has appreciated the notification and is reevaluating its security measures, replacing certain officers, and redoubling its patrols.”

Mander bowed slightly. “But the knowledge of Tempest manufacture still exists.”

“Only a few know of the full matter,” replied Vago.

“All others have been silenced, one way or another.” She nodded at the droid, who blissfully translated without understanding that its own memory had been wiped. “A CSA officer, two spacers, and a Jeedai.”

“And you,” said Mander.

It was the Hutt’s turn to bow slightly. “One who is indebted to Mighty Popara Anjiliac Diresto, and one who would not think of doing anything that would blacken his name or weaken his family’s power.”

Mander blinked at the mention of Popara’s full name. Almost all carried that final personal name to the grave. A Hutt identified with three names was dead, or legendary. Popara was both.

“Still, the Tempest is out there,” said the Jedi. “It exists on half a hundred worlds.”

“In ever-diminishing amounts. The Spice Lord …” Vago paused here, and Mander saw that the Hutt—loyal to the Anjiliac clan to the last—could not use Mika’s name with his crimes, even now. “The Spice Lord was already very effective in covering most of his tracks. His efforts were sufficient in that particular matter. Officially …” Here again she paused, such that the droid waited for her to resume, which she did after a beat. “In the family histories, it will be simply stated that Young Mika discovered and eradicated the founders of the Tempest trade, though at the cost of his own life.”

“Which is true, so far as it goes,” said Mander.

“Popara leaves a legacy of honesty,” said Vago. “I intend to preserve that legacy.”

“There will be a lot of Tempest addicts going into withdrawal,” said Mander.

Vago gave a rippling shrug that cascaded the length of her body. “There may be other types of spice. Spice that is less pleasing, perhaps, but less damaging to the user and to the social fabric.”

“Spice that the Anjiliac family would be willing to deal in,” said Mander. He was greeted with another shrug.

“Mighty Popara, may his name ever be venerated, was happy to aid others,” said Vago through her droid. “Wise Vago sees no point in deviating from this sage practice.”

“Wise Vago faces a great challenge,” observed Mander. “While the holdings of the Anjiliac clan are extensive, it has lost not just its leader, but that leader’s two official heirs. The logical remaining choice to take control will have a tough road ahead of her, and the last thing such a leader would need would be others investigating a renewed trade in hard spice.”

Vago was silent for a moment, then unleashed a passionate string of verbiage, translated again by the droid: “Wise Vago sees that your interests parallel with her own. There will be no resumption of the Tempest trade, and those who seek to do so will be rebuffed. In addition, as a show of kindness, the aid to the addicts will be made at cost. No profit will be taken.”

“Our interests parallel each other,” agreed Mander, and bowed slightly. “Unless the Tempest spice reappears, we have no reason for our paths to cross again.”

“Agreed,” said Vago and held up a hand to silence the droid. In Huttese she said, “Now if you will excuse me, I have a commercial empire to rebuild.” And with that the audience was over, and the droid motioned for Mander to accompany it. The Jedi stepped out of the audience room, and had one last glimpse of Vago the Hutt. She was looking at the holo of the funeral of her adopted family, and Mander could not discern the emotions behind her dispassionate face. Then the droid irised the door shut and the Hutt was gone.

The shuttle returned Mander to the Resolute and he was escorted by Lieutenant Lockerbee to the landing bay where the New Ambition was being prepped for takeoff. Droids and support crew were detaching the last of the hoses. Eddey was visible in the ship’s cockpit, going over a final checklist on his datapad. Reen came up to the Jedi.

“The lieutenant commander says we’re supposed to drop you wherever you want,” she said. “Where would that be?”

Mander looked around. “Yavin Four, I suppose,” he said, though the prospect of returning to the Jedi Archives seemed to pale slightly.

“Thought as much,” said Reen. “Course already laid in. We’re just waiting for you.”

“I’m surprised,” said Mander, then looked at Reen and started again. “I thought that the lieutenant commander would be here to see us off.”

“She’s been busy ever since we got back,” said Reen, a smirk on her face. “I think she saw herself as being in control, being the one pulling the strings. It came as a bit of a shock to discover that she was the puppet and not the master. I don’t think she trusts Hutts that much anymore.”

“Or Jedi,” said Mander.

“Or Jedi,” repeated Reen, and the two looked out over the sprawling shuttle bay. The last of the support droids pulled away from the ship.

Reen let out a deep sigh and said, “I salvaged something from Mika’s factory-ship,” she said, “when you were talking to him, at the end. I was thinking of keeping it myself, but I think you’re going to have better use for it.” She reached beneath her cloak and pulled out Toro’s lightsaber. She held it out, pommel-first, to the Jedi.

Mander looked at it for a long heartbeat, and then reached out. His injured hand closed around the shortened grip, and it felt like he was shaking hands with an old friend. He hefted it aloft, thumbed the activator switch, and the blade sprang from the emitter. He flicked it easily from side to side, and it was as if the blade were an extension of himself.

“How’s it feel?” asked Reen. Up in the cockpit, Eddey impatiently motioned for them to come aboard.

Mander thought for a moment, then said, “Good. It feels very good.”