Chapter 299
The Chancellor switched off the communication system and leaned back in his opulent chair, the soft glow of Coruscant's night skyline filtering through the panoramic windows of his private office. Outwardly, Sheev Palpatine remained the picture of serene control. Inwardly, he was far more intrigued than he cared to admit.
"It seems Count Dooku's new apprentice hasn't lived up to expectations," he murmured to the empty room. "And yet, this defector had such grand plans. To die so senselessly — not by a lightsaber, but by betrayal… quite a feat. But even more senseless is to succumb to the dark side, lose control, and go mad…"
Palpatine's thoughts drifted, as they often did, to the nature of the so-called "fall." It was a sore subject for all Force-sensitive beings. He himself had come dangerously close on the night he killed his master, Plagueis. The fear that the old Muun might somehow survive — even as a Force ghost — had driven him into a frenzy. Lightsaber, lightning, raw telekinetic fury — he had struck again and again until nothing remained.
For the Sith, however, the Darkness was simpler. It was a tool, nothing more. The Force — the undivided Force — existed to be bent to the will of its master. The Jedi, despite their endless mantras of "no emotions, only peace," feared the dark side with a primal terror absorbed from their first days in the Temple. That fear shaped them, sometimes manifesting in very material ways. Yet blaming the Darkness itself was foolish. The dark side did not act on its own; it only amplified what already lived inside sentient beings.
All troubles came from within.
The Jedi had fought the Sith for millennia simply because the Sith embraced the dark side. No excuses, no inner torment — if you met a Sith, you killed him. That immutable rule was fueled by ancient, bone-deep fear. And fear, as everyone knew, led straight to the dark side.
Jedi learned to control themselves, but never truly to master the darkness. So when a true "fall" occurred, they cracked open like overripe fruit, spilling out everything they had spent lifetimes burying. In those moments, reason vanished. Only a rare few could resist the resulting madness.
Palpatine chuckled softly. For him, madness was an unaffordable luxury. It would mean not only his own death, but the death of the Sith Order — or rather, the teachings so carefully preserved for nearly nine hundred years. A madman had no need to consider tomorrow, or the next minute, or consequences. His mind narrowed to one single, primal instinct:
*Everyone around is an enemy. Kill the enemy. Show them who is boss here…*
He shifted in his chair, fingers drumming lightly on the armrest.
"What compelled Count Dooku to withdraw from this operation?" he mused aloud. "Why did he send his apprentice instead? And where was he himself?" A thin smile curved his lips. "However… these questions will be answered very soon."
Count Dooku was already en route to Coruscant.
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**Scene 2**
After the holo-conference ended, I decided to dig through my private stash for any notes on the Hutts. It wouldn't hurt to refresh my memory either — my old teacher had once lectured me on Hutt history at length.
Since most of my things were still aboard the *Finalizer* (and Zule had been sent back to the ship to avoid the negotiations), I had her shuttle over a change of clothes and the relevant holodisks. We would be staying on Tatooine for at least a couple of days.
An hour later the requested holodisk arrived. I spent the intervening time rummaging through my own memories, then another two hours studying the data.
Finally, I leaned back in the chair and massaged my temples wearily.
"Well… what can I say," I muttered. "The Republic and the Hutts, as they say, never really worked out. More precisely — between humans and Hutts. These two races were like opposite poles of the galaxy."
The Republic prided itself on its central location, its cultural values, and the fact that it had the Jedi Order on its side. The Hutts boasted one of the oldest, most advanced civilizations in the galaxy — predating the Republic by several thousand years. And both looked upon everyone else as… well, beneath them.
It was no surprise. Both species had fought desperately for survival in their earliest days.
The Hutts had once lived peacefully for tens of thousands of years on their homeworld Varl, alongside a related species. They evolved from tribal settlements into a planet-spanning empire, developed advanced technology, and eventually reached for the stars. Then they lost everything. Some records claimed their sun died and became a white dwarf. Others spoke of a devastating war that left Varl's surface scarred beyond recognition. Whatever the truth, the Hutt Empire was forced to migrate to Evocar, which they renamed Nal Hutta — "the New Home of the Hutts."
From there they began expanding. And they met humans.
Humans — or rather, their ancient ancestors — had developed on Notron (later called Coruscant). Two distinct races arose on the planet: the Zhell (early humans) and the Taungs. War between them erupted almost immediately and raged for over a hundred thousand years. In the end the Taungs were defeated and driven from Notron. The refugees eventually settled on a distant world they named Mandalore after one of their greatest leaders.
The Hutts themselves were hardly pacifists. Empires are not built by the meek. Hutt history was filled with conquest, vassalization, and slavery, fueled by a deep-seated xenophobia and an unshakable belief in their own superiority. Looking at most of their subjects and slaves, it was hard to argue they were entirely wrong.
At first the Hutts dominated through clever politics and military might. They repelled Xim the Despot and destroyed his empire in a long war. But when the Republic clashed with the remnants of Xim's forces, the Hutts intervened — perhaps deliberately steering the conflict toward the Republic. The Republic ultimately won, but the grudge lingered. Within a few years the Hutt Empire as a centralized power effectively ceased to exist. The institution of emperors lost credibility (not without help from Republic agents), and power shifted to the Hutt Council, formed by the most influential clans.
That was when the real animosity began.
The Republic viewed the Hutts as criminals and gangsters. The Hutts contemptuously referred to the Republic as a pathetic pile of bantha fodder. Skirmishes flared up regularly.
Twelve thousand years ago, Chancellor Contispex launched the First Crusade — a large-scale holy war against Hutt Space. Six fleets and armies stormed the border worlds, driven by greed disguised as righteous expansion. The fanatical crusaders cried "Beat the Hutts, save the Republic!" but Contispex had overestimated his forces. The Hutts held their ground.
The Second and Third Crusades followed under Contispex II. Over the thousand-year reign of the Pius Dea cult, the galaxy saw thirty-four Crusades in total — ten of them directed specifically against the Hutts. Countless local wars raged alongside them. Not only the Hutts suffered; thousands of other non-human species faced genocide. Entire civilizations were wiped out.
The Jedi only intervened toward the very end, during the reign of Contispex XIX. They did what they did best — removed the leader. It worked, as it usually did.
Even after the Pius Dea era, relations between the Republic and Hutt Space remained bitterly strained. Before Ruusan the Hutts still respected Republic military power. After Ruusan… it became simple: *You have no fleet, but we do.* Jedi persuasion was useless against Hutts, and assassinating individuals risked full-scale war — something the weakened Republic could not afford.
I glanced at the pile of holodisks on the table. "Where have I seen this before… Aha!"
I inserted the correct disk and continued reading.
Republic intelligence from five years ago painted a sobering picture. The Hutt fleet was enormous — roughly seven hundred Dreadnoughts and ten thousand Gozanti-class cruisers. Jabba's clan alone controlled two hundred and seven Dreadnoughts — seven more than the entire Katana fleet. The Judicial Forces would be hard-pressed to match that armada, and even today the Hutts could give both the Separatist Droid Army and the Grand Army of the Republic a serious run for their money.
Yet the Hutts preferred a policy of containment rather than outright aggression. War was wasteful, even for them, and their legendary wealth was better spent on pleasure and influence.
The Republic disliked the Hutts. The Hutts reciprocated with contempt. Hutt Space became a refuge for anyone dissatisfied with the Republic — smugglers, pirates, dissidents. Nar Shaddaa, Nal Hutta's moon, offered every vice and pleasure the galaxy could provide.
Naturally, the Jedi — following the Republic's lead — held deeply negative views. I would bet my remaining lightsaber that at least half the Order shared Mace Windu's blunt opinion: "The Hutts are criminals. They must be brought to justice."
And now, after all these centuries, the Republic suddenly had a chance to mend fences with the Hutts.
And somehow, I had managed to land right in the middle of it.
"Your mother…" I muttered, rubbing my scarred face. "Save this."
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling of the small cabin. Tomorrow's negotiations with Jabba loomed. Tonight there would be a celebration I couldn't refuse. Somewhere out there, Palpatine was already calculating how best to use this unexpected pawn on the board.
I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of centuries of bad blood pressing down on my shoulders.
This was going to be complicated.