Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 03_ Rebel Dawn - A. C. Crispin [91]
Jabba didn’t like being reminded of Zorba and his profligate ways. “Aunt, I am nothing like my parent, and you know it! I respectfully submit that you have grown soft and your analysis weak. We must deal with Besadii soon or, most assuredly, we will be ruined. What are your specific objections?”
Jiliac rumbled, and a bit of green phlegm appeared at the corner of her slack mouth. “Too risky, too many uncertainties. Humans are not intelligent enough to be able to accurately predict their behavior. They’re just as apt to take our credits, then betray us to Besadii.”
“These Rebels are too committed to their cause,” Jabba said. “You are right, you don’t understand humans, Aunt. Commander Tharen’s group is just dedicated enough and stupid enough to risk themselves over those wretched slaves. Humans are like that. Especially this human.”
“And I suppose you understand them?” Jiliac snorted. “Where do these masterful insights of yours spring from, Nephew? From watching them cavort around scantily clothed?”
Jabba was really getting angry now. “I do understand them! And I understand that this offer is not one to toss aside!”
“So you would have us arrange to kill some thirty t’landa Til for the Corellian Resistance,” Jiliac said. “What if that was ever discovered here on Nal Hutta? The t’landa Til here would raise such an outcry! They are our cousins, Nephew. Humans are nothing!”
Jabba hadn’t thought of that. He remained silent, mulling her objection over. “I still think it could be arranged,” he said. “We’ve gotten away with multiple assassinations before, after all.”
“Besides,” Jiliac said, sulkily, “I don’t want the Ylesian enterprise destroyed. I want to take it over. What good will it do us to best Besadii if the spice factories are destroyed?”
“We could build other factories,” Jabba said. “Anything would be better than having Besadii warehousing that spice and driving the prices up and up!”
Jiliac shook her head. “I am the clan leader, and my decision is no. That is the end of it, Nephew.”
Jabba tried to expostulate further, but she waved him to silence, and, with a bellow, summoned K8LR and the Rebel Commander. The droid quickly shepherded the young woman back into the room, solicitously commenting on her bravery the whole time.
Jiliac shot an exasperated glance at Jabba, and harrumphed loudly. “Girl, as I was saying before, when I was interrupted—” she glanced at Jabba meaningfully, “we appreciate your offer, but our answer is no. Desilijic cannot risk allying with the Resistance in this matter.”
Bria Tharen’s features betrayed her disappointment, Jabba noted. She sighed, then squared her shoulders.
“Very well, Your Excellency.” She reached into the pocket of her fatigues and took something out. “If you should ever change your mind, you can reach me—”
Jiliac waved aside the proffered datacard, then glared at her nephew as he reached for it. Jabba gazed at Bria, holding the datacard. “I will keep this,” he said. “Farewell, Commander.”
“Thank you for the audience, Your Excellencies,” she said, and bowed deeply.
Jabba watched her as she walked away, and found himself thinking that she’d look magnificent in a dancing girl’s costume. All that reddish hair spilling down over her bare shoulders. Nicely muscled shoulders. This human was fit, exquisitely so, and her height was impressive. What a dancing girl she’d make!
Jabba sighed.
“Jabba,” his aunt said, “I did not appreciate the way you appeared to disrespect my decision just now. Never forget that we Desilijic must always present a united front when conducting business with inferior species.”
Jabba did not trust himself to speak. He was still bitterly angry over his aunt’s refusal to see what a great opportunity Bria Tharen had offered them.
If I were the leader of Desilijic, he thought, I wauldn’t have to listen to her paranoid conservatism. Sometimes you have to take chances to make large gains. Motherhood