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In the desert, the predators hunted those things that still had flesh on their bones. Jawas and the Sand People fought their battles and scrambled for water. In Mos Eisley, the Lady Valarian was bringing new style and class to the underworld. And in the heavens above, the Rebel Alliance still fought for what …? Freedom.

Tessek let his mind soar, far between the stars, lightly touching the minds of people he had once met and felt some kinship for. Luke, Leia, Han, the Wookiee.

Simultaneously, each of the Alliance heroes suddenly had the same odd, compelling thought: If ever you return to Jabba’s fortress, you will find a free Quarren in the palace.

And one by one, each of the heroes shook their heads to clear the odd thought from their minds.

As the suns dipped below the horizon, Tessek got up and trundled down a dark corridor that led to the lowest levels of Jabba’s palace. There, among the nutrient-filled brain jars, he would find rest.

Tongue-tied: Bubo’s Tale

by Daryl F. Mallett

Thhheuwp.

A long, prehensile tongue quietly snaked out from a warty mouth, slurping up forgotten tidbits and dropped crumbs. But while the tongue was active, so were the bulbous purple eyes atop the green head. From the shadowy alcove where he crouched beneath the still-warm ovens, Bubo observed the goings-on in the kitchen.

Throughout his long career as a spy and assassin, and in dozens of places not unlike this one, he had seen similar occurrences. Gartogg, one of the huge security guards, was questioning Ree-Yees. A body lay at their feet. A thrill of glee ran through Bubo’s tongue, tickling the roof of his mouth, as he contemplated the Gamorrean guard clubbing the Gran over the head and hauling him off to the dungeons to await the Hutt’s punishment.

Bubo didn’t like working with the Grannish operative. The three-eyed being was too unprofessional, too unbalanced, too emotional. He relied heavily upon other people rather than on his own abilities. And when he got nervous, he consumed large quantities of inebriants.

And besides that, Ree-Yees just tasted wrong.

Bubo’s tongue curled in disgust as the three-eyed idiot managed to convince the dim-witted guard of his innocence.

Someday, you’ll get yours, he thought as he turned and shambled off into the ventilation shaft behind the ovens.

As he made his way through the stone-and-metal shafts, all the while searching for a delicious Jawa or perhaps catching Salacious Crumb alone, he reflected on the current contract. While only a minor player this time, Bubo was concerned about being exposed by his colleague’s seemingly endless ineptitudes. And the Hutt’s rage was something to be feared.

Bubo knew he was being used by Ree-Yees and several others. They, along with most of the universe, looked upon his kind as nothing more than drooling, mindless, bug-eating frog-dogs … a reputation which the species did nothing to correct. In reality, they were some of the most mentally competent beings in existence. At least Bubo thought so.

Thus, when he had arrived on this sand-and-lizard-infested planet several years ago, Bubo had taken great delight in discovering the B’omarr monks encysted in this very citadel. It was to them he would turn now, as he did always, in his need for enlightenment.

And if that failed, he had one last card to play to insure that Ree-Yees would take the fall.

The air was cooler below ground level, and a hint of moisture tinged the air. Approaching footsteps caused Bubo to withdraw into the shadows and shield his mind. Because everyone thought him a dumb animal, he normally didn’t need to hide; he could merely shamble along with no fear. But he identified the distinctively soft tread as Bib Fortuna’s.

Jabba’s majordomo was always lurking in the lower depths of the palace, mining what information he could from the humanitarian B’omarr. And the Twi’lek’s mental control was incredible. Not quite the level of the B’omarr or the Jedi, but enough to frighten Bubo into erecting shields. He knew the Twi’lek was up