[Fic] Accidental Hunter

[JasraLantill]

“Congratulations, human. Jabba says he will pay you ten thousand for him,” the Twi’lek servant of Jabba the Hutt translated what the obese slug had just said for the benefit of my human ears.

 

Ten thousand? If it hadn’t been for the constant Tatooine dust that always seemed to make my eyes squint, my eyeballs would have popped straight out of my head upon hearing the aforementioned sum. Ten thousand credits was well over a couple of year’s worth of wages for a general dogsbody-cum-mechanic like me.

 

I glanced at the dishevelled man next to me… erm, scratch that. I glanced at the dishevelled man next to me. I had no idea just who he was, or where he had come from, or what he had done to cause Jabba to just offer me ten thousand credits for him. In fact, I had only just laid eyes on the guy a few minutes beforehand.

 

I had been on my way to Chalmun’s Cantina. It had been a long day at work for me--I was dusty, tired, extremely parched and after working with droids all day, the last thing I wanted to do is relax in a place that allows them. So, I was sauntering down the dusty street heading towards the Double C, minding my own business, when I had heard this scuffle coming from the alley up ahead.

 

Now, even with the Imperial troops skulking about nowadays, Mos Eisley isn’t the safest of places and scuffles and fights in alleys aren’t really that unusual. So as a general rule, I like to avoid stepping into alleys, just as I like to avoid stepping into steaming piles of fresh Ronto dung—which was exactly what just happened to be in my path at that particular moment. But by sidestepping around the dung, that meant I had to sidestep into the alley.

 

In the alley were three bodies laying on the ground—and I say ‘bodies’ only because, although they were humanoid, they were face down and I couldn’t quite tell what races they were—and standing over them was a dishevelled human male. As soon as he had laid eyes on me, he ran toward me—well, more like staggered toward me at a very quick pace. He had latched on to the front of my tunic for support, babbled something that at the time sounded like, “Hey, thinky can tak me at an bringy ta Jabba da Hutt? Huh? Huh!” He had poked my chest emphatically with a thick stubby finger as if to make his point more urgent, but then his eyes had rolled back in his head, he had drooled, and before I knew it, he had sort of collapsed on me.

 

He had reeked of old ale and burnt death sticks, was bruised in some spots and bleeding in others, and he had just asked for my help in bringing him to Jabba the Hutt. What was I supposed to do? Just leave him there? In hindsight, that’s probably exactly what I should have done. But being a concerned citizen, (which roughly translates to mean that I certainly didn’t want to be bringing any undue attention to myself from any Imperial patrols by having a beaten-up, bleeding drunkard slobbering on my arm with three other unconscious individuals laying on the ground nearby, some of which were bleeding, and none of which I had particularly wanted to be associated with), I did what he asked. I took him to Jabba.

 

Throwing the semi-conscious drooling man’s arm over my shoulder, I had dragged him to the local Trading Office. That’s where spacers or drifters went to find ‘cargo-related’ jobs posted by T.O. ‘pilots’, though knowing Tatooine’s reputation for smuggling and such, I was pretty sure that ‘cargo-related’ equated to ‘stolen-booty’ and ‘pilot’ was just a polite word for ‘pirate’. But, it was also the place Jabba or one of his lackeys were most likely to be.

 

I was actually a bit worried to bringing him there. I’d heard rumours that the T.O. employees could be a bit paranoid and tetchy when it came to strangers. And me, being a relative stranger to them, bringing in a man who was bruised and bleeding, staggering and slurring, I wasn’t sure really what kind of reception I would get.

 

As soon as I had entered the office, I decided that ‘paranoid and tetchy’ were definitely understatements. The door hadn’t even closed properly behind me before a couple of ‘thugs,’ (because no one in their right mind could ever mistake them for office clerks), were right up in my face asking me who I was, what business I had there and if I or my unconscious ‘friend’ had any concealed weapons. Since I’d never been in the T.O. before—mainly because I had never needed to nor had been all that curious to visit it—I answered their questions in the most calm and relaxed tone that I could muster, even though inside I was thinking, “Blast, blast, blast…!”

 

“Blast,” I said, quickly followed by, “Joe Blast.” I have never had an ‘alias’ before and I admit I was pleased at how quickly I had invented one.

 

“Ever heard of me?” I continued calmly. “Erm… thought not. Look, I’m just bringing this guy to Jabba the Hutt, and although I don’t see any real need for carrying a blaster at the moment, I do have a customised plasma torch tucked in my boot that any of you are more than welcome to see.”

 

My mother was right. Talking in a serenely calm voice during an obviously hostile and intimidating situation does seem to unnerve people in some weird sort of way, because even though I was starting to feel a bit out of place next to all the hired muscle in the room, my words seemed to cause some amount of distress. Since I’d heard that office workers do tend to get uptight when their daily routine is interrupted, I remained ignorantly passive while chaos ensued around me. I never did get the chance to fully explain to anyone that I was only there because I was doing this drunk guy a favour.

 

It was only when I was relieved of my plasma torch and escorted to the back room by a couple of Jabba’s thugs to actually have an audience with Jabba the Hutt himself—and I say ‘escorted’ because ‘forced’ implies that their blasters were charged and aimed at me with fingers ready on the trigger, which in actuality they were only charged and waving them menacingly in the air—that I started to suspect that something was not quite right.

 

So, now, here I was, with Jabba’s oversized yellow Hutt eyes staring at both me and the man I’d brought with what I could only describe as ‘greedy malicious anticipation,’ while Jabba’s Twi’lek servant telling me that Jabba was offering me ten thousand credits just for bringing the man here.

 

I still wasn’t sure if I was in trouble or not, but I felt pretty confident now in assuming that the mysterious inebriated man was. He had likely upset Jabba in some way--which, from the stories I’d heard around town about the great Hutt, was neither wise nor difficult. Still, I did have a hard time believing that even Jabba would pay as much as the Twi’lek had just said for the poor excuse for the stinking, dirty, malodorous half-conscious human male who swayed next to me. He certainly didn’t look worth five credits to me, let alone ten…. Wait. Did the Twi’lek really say ten thousand?

 

Possibly mistaking my shock as disinterest, the Twi’lek then added, “It is a very generous offer.”

 

Generous? He certainly didn’t need to tell me that. Ten thousand was extremely generous. Outrageously generous. Insanely generous. Superfantasmagorically-slap-me-silly-and-call-me-a-Wookiee kind of generous.

 

“Excuse me, but I don’t think I heard you correctly,” I said politely to the Twi’lek. “Did you say ten thousand?”

 

The Twi’lek suddenly looked surprised and he hurriedly leaned in close to Jabba, whispering something unintelligible. The Hutt’s eyes narrowed into angry-looking slits. Someone in the room gasped. The Twi’lek cringed. I tried to swallow, but my throat was as dry as the Dune Sea. And then, Jabba laughed.

 

He began to ramble in guttural but jovial-sounding Huttese, but whether or not the meaning was going to be quite as jovial after being translated into Basic was what I wanted to know. The only thing I could do was stand there and stare stoically at Jabba and the Twi’lek. So, that’s what I did.

 

Finally the Twi’lek nodded and spoke to me. “Jabba wants to know if the unknown bounty hunter is brave or stupid.”

 

I cocked an eyebrow. Bounty hunter? All was becoming clear now. Those hadn’t been the man’s drinking buddies in the alley—they had been bounty hunters. And the man now in my custody had bested them all—well, had bested them just before he collapsed in my arms. Now it was apparent that the man really hadn’t been asking me to take him to Jabba, but rather his words had been a slurred boast in reference to the inept and now deceased bounty hunters that had been trying to collect Jabba’s bounty. “They think they can take me and bring me to Jabba the Hutt? Huh? Huh!”

 

“No, I’m not stupid,” I said calmly to the Twi’lek. I stuck a finger in my ear and wiggled it around, scratching the gritty sand out if it. “I was just attempting to clarify what you said Jabba said. You did say ten thousand, right? Ten?”

 

A deadly hush fell over the room, save for the slurping ragged breaths of my semi-conscious ‘quarry’. The Twi’lek whispered hurried words to Jabba, and the Hutt’s tail flicked predatorily. Nobody moved or dared to talk.

 

Now, a word of advice: when dealing with a suspected criminal element in an unfamiliar culture, it is wise to do a bit of research on gestures and their associated meanings before you innocuously scratch sand out of your ear. It was only much later when I found out later what that gesture meant—and just how lucky I am to be relating this story to you now.

 

Finally, the great Hutt spoke. Well, rumbled is more like. I could feel the floor actually shake with every Huttese word he uttered. And, this time, there were actually a few words that I think I actually understood. Granted they weren’t very nice words, but at least I understood that I was probably going to meet a horrible death very, very soon. I stood rooted to the spot and stared at the Twi’lek, waiting for him to break the bad news.

 

Never try to anticipate a Hutt. After all that growling and spouting in Huttese, Jabba finally ordered the Twi’lek to translate.

 

“Jabba says he thinks you are scum,” said the Twi’lek.

 

“Thank you,” I replied. Being scum was better than being dead.

 

“And Jabba says you must be a very lucky or very skilled hunter to have caught your quarry alive.” He paused. “He’ll pay you twenty thousand,” the Twi’lek said. “No more.”

 

I just nodded. Son of a gundark… I had to grit my teeth together to keep my mouth from hitting the floor. “That’s fine,” I eventually managed to say. “I accept.”

 

The Twi’lek handed me a credit chip, while two Gamorreans came forward and took the man away. The tenseness in the air started to dissipate. Things were starting to come back to normal. Except now I was twenty thousand credits better off.

 

“Thank you.” I bowed slightly to the great Hutt, and then turned to leave. The only thing on my mind was having that Corellian ale at the Double C. Well, maybe more than one now.

 

“Wait!” the Twi’lek called after me.

 

Jabba again grumbled something in Huttese.

 

“If you are interested, Jabba has another bounty. A difficult one.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“He’s a pilot. A smuggler. He owes Jabba many credits.”

 

I nodded. “What’s he called?”

 

The great Hutt’s eyes narrowed, and he uttered a single word, one that I actually understood. “Solo.”

 

“Solo,” I repeated. “Yeah, okay. I’ll keep an eye out for him.” Again, I bowed and took my leave and headed to the cantina. If bounties were that easy collect, I thought, maybe it was time I made a career change.

 

Just as I neared the cantina, I heard the sound of a blaster.

 

“Sorry about the mess,” a man was saying to the bartender as I walked in. He left in a hurry, and then I noticed the ‘mess’ he had left at a table in the corner. A dead Rodian.

 

“What happened?” I asked the bartender.

 

He shrugged. “Solo,” he said, as if that one word was enough of an explanation.

 

I glanced at the dead Rodian. Maybe I’ll just stick to being a mechanic after all.

[Emperor Devon]

An excellent piece as per usual from you, Jasra! I loved how you described the characters interacting with each in this - they all seemed exactly like themselves in the EU, and I liked how on edge you made the main character and the other ones were in Jabba's palace. To summarize a lengthy amount of feedback into one sentence, everything was done perfectly except the following: (Not even you can get away without any criticism )

 

The main character is the main thing that stands out. I felt she could've used more description (such as what she looks like, that sort of stuff). I'd also have liked more info on the bounty - what was it that made him 10,000 credits?

 

Other than that, my only complaint is that it's a bit long and drags in some places. But here I'm just nitpicking. I give it a definite a 9.3/10 and a vote!

[Bee Hoon]

I liked the ending, hehe. It's a good piece, and nothing I can really complain about, but as ED said, more detail on the bounty and the main character would have been nice.

 

Good job!

[RC-1162]

Great work here, Jasra. It wasn't an action filled fic or anything but I still enjoyed it. The main guy could have used a name, but I didn't mind it that much. It's very well written and a fun read. Good job!

[JasraLantill]

Thanks for the comments, guys! I don't normally like to write in first-person and so I could have used an extra day to work on it, but I had other commitments and had to get it in before the deadline. (Even though I found out later that the deadline had been changed. Ach, oh well. )

 

@Dev & Bee Hoon--Yes, I could have described the character more, but I find it a bit difficult to do when writing it the first-person. I'll keep that in mind for my next FP fic though.

 

@RC--I actually did think about giving my guy a name, but then decided not to. That way, he can be one of those 'background' no-name characters in Ep. 4. Your choice.

[Rexraptor2000]

Great Job. As with mostly everyone else, knowledge on the bounty would have been nice, but otherwise it was a fun read.

[Darth InSidious]

Bar one thing. "I looked at the man next to me...erm, scratch that." Then you repeat this part of the sentence again. I found that quite confusing.

 

Lol! Yeah, I saw that error too... this morning. I was planning on deleting that first sentence (because in my rough draft I had other descriptive phrases that followed it), but obviously something went wrong there. I'll fix it when it goes to the CEC. Thanks for spotting it though! I was wondering if anyone would comment on it.--Jas

[Jae Onasi]

Very funny! I loved the line about scratching his ear, and how that's apparently a Hutt insult.... Perhaps including something about him looking around at the other bounty hunters and slowly removing his hand from his ear as he realizes what he's doing could get him dead or something would cap off an already great moment.

 

“What happened?” I asked the bartender.

 

He shrugged. “Solo,” he said, as if that one word was enough of an explanation.

 

 

I enjoyed the fic very much.

[Empress Padme]

very fun read. I enjoyed it.