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For a few moments there was pandemonium as the huge greenish-brown rancor roared and stalked his victims. Yet the battle that raged in the rancor pit was short-lived, and ended with the rancor’s death and Jabba the Hutt himself roaring in frustration.

Within a minute, Jabba lined up the Rebel heroes and decreed their death sentences: “You will be taken to the Great Pit of Carkoon and fed to the mighty Sarlacc. There, in his bowels, over a thousand years you will learn a new definition of pain and suffering!”

Within moments the palace was bustling as Jabba’s goons prepared for the journey. The Hutt began shouting orders: “Ready my sail barge! Stock it with supplies! We leave within hours!”

Obviously, Jabba knew it was too dangerous to try to keep the Jedi captive long, yet the cousin to a slug so fervently desired extracting a painful revenge that he could not just terminate the young man.

Tessek’s skin went cold. The trip to the Great Pit of Carkoon would take up the whole afternoon. Prefect Talmont would raid the warehouse in Mos Eisley while it was empty. Tessek had to change his plans.

As everyone hustled about, Tessek rushed forward to the Hutt. The stench of decay and illegal spices was thick on the monster’s breath. Jabba turned his dark eyes downward. “Your Majesty,” Tessek urged, “perhaps you should reconsider this foolish mission. By killing the heroes of the Rebel Alliance, you would only bring the wrath of the Alliance down upon you. It is possible that they already have ships in orbit, waiting to attack.”

“Ho, ho, ho, ho,” Jabba laughed. “Attack my fortress? I would like to see them try.”

Jabba reached into his food box, pulled out a wriggling creature, put it on his tongue and flipped it into his mouth.

“Perhaps the Alliance forces are only waiting for you to leave the palace, expose yourself to attack,” Tessek offered.

Jabba did not answer immediately, but his eyes widened in fear. It was a most logical argument.

“Yes, yes,” Jabba said. “We must be careful. We will go to Carkoon, but only with a full contingent of warriors. Go, prepare yourself, Tessek, for a trip aboard my pleasure craft.”

Tessek tried not to show his fear. It would only entice and gratify the Hutt. “But Master, I cannot go into the desert. I—my skin would dry out.”

“Ho, ho, ho, ho,” Jabba laughed, and Tessek knew that he had no choice but to accompany the Hutt. The thought of Tessek’s pain amused the monster.

“But Master,” Tessek argued, “we have important business to take care of. Remember the spice ship from Kessel? We must inspect the cargo today! Perhaps … perhaps I should go to Mos Eisley and inspect it for you.”

Jabba’s eyes narrowed and he licked his tongue. Jabba was very fond of spice, and he would need part of that shipment for himself. Yet, he distrusted Tessek.

“Yes, yes,” Jabba said thoughtfully, his deep voice echoing throughout the room in Huttese, “the spice … will just have to wait. Go, prepare yourself for the trip to Carkoon. I will have you at my side!”

Trapped. Tessek was trapped. The monk’s words echoed in Tessek’s mind: “he plots your own untimely demise.” Surely Jabba suspected Tessek, and those whom Jabba suspected rarely lived long. Indeed, Jabba was amused by Tessek’s fear of dehydration, and just as Han Solo had spent weeks frozen in carbonite while hanging on Jabba’s wall, Tessek imagined his own desiccated hide, dried until he was mummified, hanging as an ornament on Jabba’s wall.

“Surely I am little more than an accountant,” Tessek argued. “Others here could handle such matters far better than I.”

“Nevertheless,” Jabba assured him, “your presence is not just desired; it is required. I have great plans for you.”

Tessek ran to his room, began plotting furiously. Three or four hours was all he had.

It would be too late to call off Prefect Talmont’s raid on Jabba’s warehouse. Tessek didn’t have time to send a written message to Talmont’s agents in Mos Eisley. Tessek would have to talk to Talmont after the fact, get him to raid the