25 Death Throes of the Cartels : Episode III

Ribbas, a rather typical example of a Hutt, pulled his pipe from his mouth and took his time exhaling, the smoke curling around in a pattern I was forced to admit was rather graceful. I didn't care to do business with him, as he was a slave trader of some note, but the damn slug had started dabbling in growing a local drug creatively called grey leaf. The drug was proving popular in tested markets among the upper classes of the galaxy, and as a newly discovered drug, there was a window with which the Trade Federation could make a hefty profit before the Republic Administration of Recreational Chemicals began reviewing it. Ordinarily, the admittedly limited research on the effects of grey leaf suggested it would meet the requirements for recreational use, being relatively harmless. Unfortunately, the RARC tended to block drugs sourced from Hutt space regardless of their effects.

"I think I'm done with the slave trade," Ribbas said after a moment, startling me.

"Oh?" I intoned curiously.

"I've sold you one batch, and that batch has made me more money than even the finest, most well-trained slave has made me. And for so little effort too," he began explaining. I had the sense he was trying to justify it to himself. Hearing him, I doubted he had made any sudden moral revelation, but... well, if he quit the practice out of greed, it made no difference to me, so long as he quit.

"No competition, either. Not yet, at least, and you'll have a solid advantage on anyone that pops up," I offered.

Ribbas inclined his head. "Very true. Still... I don't think I'll be able to find much of a market for it. The drug trade is fairly saturated."

"True, true."

We sat in thought, both of us working over the problem.

"Hrm... well, if you're going to quit the slave trade... that would open up some possibilities with the Trade Federation," I said, getting the Hutt's attention. Ribbas merely quirked an eyebrow, a rather disgusting expression on his biology, making several rolls of fat jiggle with the movement.

"To begin, the Trade Federation would be able to lobby the RARC to permit the sale of grey leaf for recreational use. The politics involved would make it difficult, but it could be done. Obviously, that on its own wouldn't guarantee your position, the open market may have advantages over the black market, but it is no less saturated. But... if we were to imply to the Judiciary that your quitting the slave trade was contingent on allowing you to sell this substance... well, that opens up some rather potent marketing options."

Ribbas frowned, and I couldn't tell whether it was displeased, or thoughtful. I went on anyways, either way, I had yet to be silenced, and given he was a Hutt, that meant I had leave to continue trying to convince him.

"Legal or otherwise, the Hutts are reputed as the masters of chemical pleasures. Conventional wisdom holds that getting grey leaf legalized would actually be harmful, the whole 'sell-out' phenomenon. But, with the Judiciary forces pressuring the RARC to make this deal work despite their usual policies... with some carefully designed advertising campaigns, we can imply that you have something on the RARC. Perhaps some blackmail, perhaps some bribery, best to leave it up to the market's imagination. When the RARC remains silent and refuses to respond to the campaign... suddenly grey leaf becomes a forbidden fruit, a sinful temptation brought to the masses by the manipulations of a particularly cunning Hutt."

Ribbas began smiling, a low chuckle reverberating from his chest. Apparently Jabba's echoing laugh was a trait unique to the species, their lungs vibrated to produce a deep, low sound that then echoed out from their cavernous maws. It was very unsettling hearing it comes from the Hutt across from me. "Clever, clever... I think I like this plan. How quiet can you keep this arrangement? I might like to leverage this for prestige among the cartels, and the implication that I found a weakness to exploit in the RARC where countless Hutts before me failed..."

I nodded, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. I doubted the Republic's drug administration was especially difficult to corrupt, rather I suspected that the cartels did not care to expend much effort on corrupting them when the system they already had worked well. Still, the effect was the same. "I see... the Trade Federation, of course, can be trusted with any number of secrets. So long as it is to our benefit, of course," I said. Ribbas nodded, it was almost redundant for me to imply the Trade Federation wouldn't hesitate to throw him under the bus if our arrangement was unprofitable, but at the same time, the Hutt was far more likely to trust our greed and our desire to protect our income than our honor.

"That said, I confess I am unsure of how well we can keep it silent on the Republic's side. I do not deal with that side of our affairs. If I am honest, I suspect it would not be too hard for one of your rivals to find the truth of the matter," I admitted.

Ribbas waved a hand dismissively. "Bah. I care not, so long as I am made rich. It was an entertaining thought, and nothing more. You make your case well, Captain. Leave, I will contact you with my answer later."

I bowed graciously and began to leave when my vision began to darken...

-----

My eyes felt heavy as I opened them. I tried to push the dream out of my mind, I hated remembering that deal. Oh, it had worked out wonderfully, make no mistake... but as a result of it, Ribbas had given me a rather unfortunate gift, in the form of my bodyguard Madeen. Sylee, I was proud of. As much as I tried not to be a braggart, the fact of the matter was, I manipulated Hondo into trusting me, and he gave her to me as a result. I ultimately helped Sylee put the pirate lord down, spending a great deal of time and money in the necessary training and equipment. Madeen... I couldn't do the same for her. Ribbas had held true to his word and left the slave trade, and a small number of lesser Hutts had followed his lead in abandoning their illegal businesses and shifting their assets to more legal practices. It was a minor blow to the slave trade, yes, but it was a blow and one that promised to encourage more.

I still wasn't sure why Madeen still followed me, knowing that I had helped her former captor gain vast riches.

My vision was blurry for a moment, slowly resolving to two familiar faces standing over me. One, I was heartened to see, the Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. The other made my heart freeze.

Count Dooku.

I flinched, and almost screamed, but Dooku put his hands up. "Peace, my good captain, peace. It is no Sith Lord that stands before you today. Thanks to you, might I add, though I fear it was a close thing."

What?

Liam Neeson nodded and took a seat along the wall of the room. The infirmary? Shit, Madeen is going to be insufferable. "I heeded your warning, Captain Montoo. When I found Master-"

"Count, Master Jedi," Dooku said dryly. Qui-Gon's lips tightened by a fraction before he continued. "Master Dooku, though he has left the Jedi Order, remains a bastion of the Light Side of the Force that all Jedi should aspire to emulate."

What?!

Dooku's lip twitched upwards, just for a fraction of a second. "Nevertheless, I am no longer a member of the Jedi Order. It has become apparent to me that I could do far more good as a Count of Serenno. It is regrettable that I could not utilize that power as a Jedi, but with the guidance of the force, I shall forge a path."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly, visibly frustrated by whatever Dooku had just said.

"What?"

-----

The story, as it turned out, was rather simple. Liam Neeson tracked Christopher Lee to Korriban, and found his old master studying ancient Sith texts with a decidedly unhealthy enthusiasm. A heated argument soon turned to fighting as they drew lightsabers and fought, Dooku seemingly empowered and influenced by the potent Dark Side energies of Korriban. They were at a stalemate when Qui-Gon gave up.

Dooku, juicing on Dark side energies, became enraged. The Dark Side had twisted his sense of honor, but it was still his sense of honor. Fighting someone who refused to fight back was simply not done. Dooku unleashed Sith Lightning on Qui-Gon, and seeing the agony on his former apprentice's face, snapped out of it.

They left the planet, and some deep mediation and soul searching later... Dooku and Qui-Gon promptly got into an argument about whether or not one should trust the will of the force to guide the Jedi to achieving galactic peace and prosperity, or one should trust the force to lead each Jedi to their own goals. That ultimately being galactic peace and prosperity.

I'm not sure I understood the difference, and I had no intention of setting off another shouting match, which the two Jedi Masters, retirement be damned, were clearly on the verge of.

Honestly, it was a lot of information to take in at once, and I was somewhat preoccupied with waking up to find that the fighting was still ongoing across Naboo, Qui-Gon was here to help me with the unofficial backing of the Jedi Council, and Count Dooku was here to relay information to the Seranno PDF, which was launching hit and run attacks on the orbiting Hutt fleet. Oh, and Chancellor Palpatine had convened an emergency Senate session and officially declared war on the Hutts, and there were several legions of Fett clones landing on key Hutt worlds.

"I realize you have been bombarded with a great deal of information in the past few hours, my good captain, but there is still one final key detail I feel you should know," Dooku began.

Please no. I beg you, all-mighty Force, no more. I just wanted to live a comfortable life and mind my own business.

"While the Kaminoan clones ordered by the late Master Pong Krell are a boon, the vast majority of the Grand Army of the Republic is made up of the defense forces Kuat, Anaxes, Corlag, and Coruscant had begun training in response to the Outer and Mid Rim's military build-up. Some three billion soldiers in total."

What the actual fuck have I done?!