Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Tatooine, Tatoo System

Arkanis Sector

Jabba might live to be a thousand years old. No Hutt was in a hurry with a lifespan like that. He has acquired lifetimes of experience, knowledge, and contacts. Jabba was permanence, stability–he was the unspoken law of Tatooine. He had these transient species beat from the start.

But in recent days, the walls of his palace seemed to crawl ever closer. Less like the fortress of authority it was, and more like an enveloping cage threatening to suffocate him alive. For the first time in Jabba’s long-lived life, he was counting away the days. For the first time, he was aware of the minutes and the seconds ticking away, of every suffering moment Rotta wasn’t in his arms.

A Gamorrean guard brought two figures–a young human and what appeared to be a modified R2 unit–before his throne, “The slicers you’ve hired have arrived, my lord.”

The Jedi observed the hired hackers impassively, content to observe from their little corner of his hall. Jabba treated Jedi with caution, in the rare cases he had dealings with them. Their mystics and magics can make them so unlike their species, making them unpredictable, and unobservable. He could never get a handle on their physical abilities, or in the case of Luminara Unduli–her state of mind.

Luminara Unduli was a general in their army, along with her apprentice. Both Mirialan. The apprentice was more expressive–showing unease and revulsion at him and his home–but the master watched and observed with absolute indifference. It did not matter whether how provocative the Twi’lek dancers were, or how he snacked on paddy frogs from a jar of brine, Luminara Unduli remained as serene as a clear day, and as immovable as a brick wall.

It made him uncomfortable.

But Jedi were humans–or any similar bipedal species–and they were not immortal. And any living being had wants and needs, and had things they were willing to trade for them. Jabba would do whatever it takes to get Rotta back to him unharmed. Nothing else mattered. He could loan off all his spacelanes to Dooku and his Separatist Alliance, or to the Jedi and their Republic; what did matter to him? Let them fight their fleeting war. It meant nothing to a species as long-lived as a Hutt.

Jabba kept his anxieties and fears for his son hidden beneath a veil of contemptuous pride, struggling to relay his repose as he lounged on his dais. He plucked out any paddy frog and slurped it down head-first, even though he had long lost his appetite. As he licked the frog’s dangling legs into his mouth, he carefully observed the bounty hunters’ reactions.

The human slicer watched with wide eyes, as did most people when they watched him eat. At least he continued to pay acceptable respect.

“Who are you?” Jabba grunted, letting TC-70 translate.

“I am Gaib, Lord Jabba,” the hacker bowed, “And this is TK-Oh.”

“Report your findings,” he said casually.

“Uh–” the boy glanced at the Jedi curiously, “–We managed to track your son to the planet Teth, Lord Jabba.”

Jabba clutched at every shred of information. Every minute that ticked away, his worry for his son only further deepened. Are you well, Rotta? Are you afraid, hungry–are you still alive? Did these transients understand his worry? Did they understand that when you’ve lived for a thousand years, when your only child was you–your own flesh and blood, because Hutts needed no partner to produce a child–and not something you could recreate endlessly like their rapid-breeding species, that your child was your entire future?

He doubted it. These creatures were such temporary things, incapable of seeing beyond the present of their own lives.

“I paid for more than this,” Jabba growled, “How did you find that out?”

“ATC records you so graciously allowed us to access, my lord,” Gaib yammered off quickly, “We checked all outbound flights from Tatooine at the estimated time, and... and sliced into all the outgoing comlink connections to HoloNet hyperwave transceivers within a day’s range. What we found was a ship requesting access to the Galactic All-Species Self-Help Database.”

The hacker wetted his lips, choosing his next words carefully, “Teekay here, he examined a request for information on Hutt health and illnesses.”

The very implication made Jabba feel cold.

“Hutts do not get sick–” in the rare times they did, something was very wrong, “–Why would they look there?”

“Well, how many beings know how to care for a Hutt baby?” Gaib shrugged, “You kidnap a baby from another species, and since it's a kidnapping and not an assassination, you want to keep that baby alive and well, right? So you check what’s normal for a Hutt baby, and what’s not– like, whatever Hutt babies do. Being sick, maybe.”

If it were not for the fact that this was no place and time for fretting, Jabba would have already broken down into a rage. Hutts did not fall ill. Virus, infection– most poisons don’t work on them. Even babies. Something was very wrong indeed.

“You think my son is sick?” he did not have to act out the anger in his voice.

TK-0 summarised the report, unmoved, “Somebody on a ship departing Tatooine on the same day your son was kidnapped accessed the GASSH Database to download files on Hutt physiology and illnesses. And that ship was tracked to Teth.”

Jabba waved for TC-70 to pay them, closing his eyes. He didn’t see them leave. The worst passed through his mind and thoughts, dread filling his gut like foul dinner. The scum that kidnapped Rotta couldn’t even do it right! And now Rotta is sick, alone in some backwater world and surrounded by Jabba’s enemies. Because only Jabba’s enemies would dare trespass against him like this.

“Lord Jabba,” Luminara Unduli’s smooth voice awakened him from his nightmare, “We will return your son to you.”

“You will find and return Rotta to me alive and well,” Jabba corrected, “And if the Republic wants passage through my spacelanes, you must also bring me the scum who kidnapped my son.”

How many beings know how to care for a Hutt baby? The bounty hunter’s words rang through his head. The kidnapper risked being tracked by accessing the GASSH Database for a reason. A dire reason.

“You have one planetary rotation to bring Rotta back to me,” Jabba added, “One Tatooine rotation. If you cannot do this, then Count Dooku and his droid armies will.”

He gestured to TC-70 to relay his words to the Jedi in a language they can understand. Unduli raised a single eyebrow at his onerous demands, remaining ever the perfect image of stoicism, her expression as tranquil as a still lake. Her apprentice, on the other hand, was not so collected. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second–a telling gesture that told him everything he had to know about what she thought about his demands.

I could see the C-9799 making way for the monastery’s landing pad.

“Get us out of here,” I spun around.

That was enough sightseeing for today. As Repulse started its reascension, I started digging through Luminara Unduli’s battle registry in the unified Confederate military database. After all, to blindside your opponent you first need to know their blindspots.

Let’s see... Luminara Unduli. Participated in the first Battle of Geonosis, and regarded to have a rational and disciplined command style–the direct antithesis to Anakin Skywalker’s. Her flagship is the Venator-class cruiser Tranquility, which also served as the mobile base of the 41st Elite Corps. A Republic corps consists of just about forty-thousand soldiers, which meant Unduli was either coming with a fraction of them, or with an entire taskforce.

As for the 41st Elite Corps themselves, as befits their cognomen they specialised rough and hostile terrain, and was known to operate in some of the harshest worlds in the galaxy. In other words, Teth was just about the average service theatre for them. Either this was a really unfortunate coincidence, or the Jedi knew in advance that we would be coming to Teth, which was something to chew on. Fortunately for me, that was Ventress’ problem, not mine.

My problem was the Tranquility itself, which I could reasonably expect to be facing. My frigates could take on a Venator in a brawl, but what worried me was the possibility that the Tranquility was outfitted with anti-ship LACs, such as BTL-B Y-wings. However, I was willing to take the bet that since Tranquility served primarily as a troop carrier for the 41st Elite Corps, most of its deck space was reserved for LAAT gunships.

Still, a Venator can hold upwards of four-hundred LACs, even on a reduced complement. My frigates can only hold forty-eight each– less, even. Because Repulse was refitted with a number of C-9799 landing crafts for this mission, trading away two entire vulture squadrons. All my frigates put together couldn't hope to match the sheer carrying capacity of a single fully-equipped Venator.

I leaned back, pulling at my cheek in thought.

“Tuff, calculate a Venator’s time of arrival here in Teth, should they have left the Tatoo System–” I checked the local planetary time, “–An hour... no, two hours ago.”

The tactical droid stared at me for no longer than a few seconds before answering, “ETA twenty-three oh-nine local military time, at best speed.”

I toggled a button on the armrest, projecting a holochart in front me, where a simulation of the Teth System magnified. The planet was marked with a pulsating red dot, circling around a single sun and orbited by two moons. I adjusted the time until it matched Tuff’s estimated ETA.

I had to expect the worst. Hypothetically, Luminara Unduli was going to arrive with her entire fleet group, including Tranquility, Guarlara and even more Acclamators. I had three frigates at my disposal. Without a seriously clever plan, I was going to get wiped.

Hypothetically.

“Mark the hyperlane egress as zero degrees,” I said.

A ring–like a clock–sprung up around Teth, hashed by evenly spaced gradations. Bearings. At 23:09 local time, the moon Teth-I will be at 308° and Teth-II at 331°. While the size of both moons were wildly different, and their orbits weren’t too far apart relatively. Curiously, Teth-I spun retrograde while Teth-II spun prograde.

“Manoeuvre behind the moons,” I unconsciously bit my lip, “Since she is in a rush, Unduli is going to make an automated extraction on the edge of the planet’s gravity well. Stelle, plug in the navicomputer into the simulation.”

A translucent bubble expanded around Teth, displaying the recreation of the planet’s gravity well. A blinking dot appeared on the edge of the bubble, at the 000° bearing–where Unduli was going to exit hyperspace. I narrowed my eyes.

There was a narrow blindspot–both visual and scanner, covered by Teth-I, from that position.

“Bring us into that blindspot,” I ordered, “Portside echelon formation. Keep our profile as small as possible. Unless Ventress leaked even more than I expect, then the Jedi will not expect this to be the work of the Separatists–at least until she is planetside. They won’t expect our presence.”

“From this position,” Tuff buzzed, “We won’t be able to approach quickly enough to engage in close combat before they mobilise their starfighters.”

“I know,” I hissed, “I know.”

I read Luminara Unduli’s registry again. The Force will always be an unquantifiable variable, but I had to believe I can glean something out of her personality... wait, she is going to be planetside, which means a clone captain will be at the helm. In my experience, clones were just about as creative as droids. Standard training, standard tactics–as long as I do something frankly ridiculous, I can blindside them.

I had to believe I could. My brother once said the clones only grew into their own later into the war in one of his rambles–to that, I say I’ll believe it when I see it. I did it once over Sarapin, over Krant, and again at Corvair. I can do it again here.

This time, I had three ships, and was practically operating independently. I didn’t have to listen to any commander or admiral.

I closed the registry.

“Then we won’t approach them,” I zoomed in on Teth in the holochart, “We’ll approach Teth-two at best speed, using Teth-one to cover us. There we will use its gravity well to slingshot us towards Teth-one. By then, the enemy fleet should be occupied with an atmospheric insertion. We will weave between the moons and use the retrograde spin of Teth-one to slingshot us again, this time to the triple-zero bearing. We will be right on top of them before they can even react.”

A dotted line was traced onto the holochart, simulating the theoretical vectors and creating an almost reversed S-shaped flight path.

“Two gravitational assists will give us too much velocity,” Stelle craned his head around, “We will shoot right past the enemy fleet or crash into the planet. Our retrothrusters are not powerful enough to slow us down in time.”

“We are in space!” I threw my hands in the air, “Swing our ships around mid-manoeuvre and use our sublight thrusters to slow us down!”

“We will need extremely precise calculations to manage the vectors and the velocity of the ambush,” Tuff cautioned, “Any deviation and we will either bypass the enemy fleet, or ram into the planet itself. One gravitational assist is dangerous enough– we are doing two in quick succession. At this theoretical speed, we will be operating out of our realspace control surfaces’ parameters.”

“We will be turning ourselves into a blaster bolt,” Stelle tacked on, agreeing with Tuff, “We will not be able to abort or deviate even if they spot us mid-manoeuvre. Everything must work perfectly.”

I glanced at the time again. It was nearly midday.

I smiled grimly, “Then it is a good thing you have half a rotation to work on those calculations. Like you said, make it perfect–none of you have failed me yet.”