Star Wars_ Tales From Jabba's Palace - Kevin J. Anderson [125]
When the Hutt’s chief lieutenant had passed, Bubo continued down the corridors, easily avoiding the many mechanical spiders containing the disembodied brains of the monks.
He went directly to a small cavern off the beaten track and entered the darkness, feeling his way to the waiting area. A dim light slowly illuminated him as he sat down. After a few moments of waiting, another shaft showed a large brain encased in a jar of nutrients.
Welcome, Buboicullaar. The brain used Bubo’s formal name and spoke directly into his mind without flashing lights or sparkles, as Bubo had seen in several cheap holos. The deep, cheerful voice resonated throughout his body, reassuring and relaxing him.
Greetings, Evilo Nailati, Bubo responded, a bit awed, as always, by the disembodied voice.
What may I tell you, little one? asked the enlightened B’omarr.
Bubo decided on a roundabout approach. How may I control my feelings and accomplish my task?
Killing Jabba, you mean?
Bubo involuntarily let a mental gasp escape. So much for the roundabout approach. The monk’s brain laughed as Bubo asked, You know?
We live within a den of thieves, little one … The voice paused a moment. Why do you want this?
Bubo croaked aloud in his own laughter. For the money, of course.
But what do you really want, Buboicullaar? I seek to learn. Unlike most of my brethren, I do not seek such abstract concepts as “truth” and “enlightenment.” I am looking to amass as much information as I can; something I would be unable to do in my body, for it would die after less than a century. This way, I can remain alive for millennia, learning and growing mentally, and then be returned to a corporeal existence whenever I choose.
Bubo mentally snorted. But you’ve always been a bit … unorthodox, my teacher.
Whatever do you mean, little one? came the laughing response of the monk’s brain.
The dramatic flair and aesthetics of the lights, for one. The fact that you still speak in sentences and whole thoughts rather than single words and images, Bubo responded earnestly.
It is necessary when dealing with the rest of the world. I do not believe one should learn in a vacuum. And in this pursuit, I am much better served in my enlightenment by conversing with tangible creatures like yourself.
So … the final question, my teacher, is what should I do?
For all my knowledge, little one, I have absolutely no idea …
When word of Jabba’s “accident” at the Great Pit of Carkoon reached the palace, Bubo was somehow not surprised when the monks suddenly appeared from everywhere. Something in his reptilian brain had suspected they would move against the current inhabitants of the palace. He knew what was coming, but unlike Bib Fortuna, whom Bubo could hear mentally screaming from another part of the palace, Bubo didn’t mind.
He was delighted to know that Ree-Yees had been aboard the sail barge when it had exploded over the Sarlaac. Nevertheless, Bubo had seen Ree-Yees shamble aboard the craft, muttering something under his breath about “figuring out what to do” as he went along to witness the execution of the Rebels, irate beyond rationality for what he had done.
Thinking about that, when the monks finally lifted his brain from his cranium, Bubo’s last tangible act was to emit a croaking laugh from his body.
What is so funny, little one? came the deep voice of Nailati in his mind.
He hesitated, knowing most of the monks frowned upon the concept of revenge as a useless act, especially when one could spend eternity contemplating the secrets of the universe. He hoped his mentor would appreciate the joke.
I ate the detonation link, my teacher. The crucial part in Ree-Yees’s plan.
Silence.
Then, You what? Disbelief.
Bubo related the tale of Ree-Yees’s final hours in the palace.
“You loathsome two-eyed toad!” Ree-Yees was losing it again.
Bubo sat crouched in yet another ventilation shaft. In front of Bubo sat the detonation link,