No Where for Bondo
The unhappy Mon Calamari cook scolded Bondo, as he passed through into the bar proper. It seemed that whatever fate that guided Bondo where not pleased with him, as evidenced by the waitress plowing into him and sending glasses every which way.
Bondo reached for a belt pouch to try and offer some of his few remaining credits, to calm her down, but then he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned that way to confront an unhappy looking Gammorean, heading his way. The very last thing, the very last, he wanted, was to get tangled up with a Gammorean. He would lose any physical confrontation, and using his blaster could start a fire fight in the bar, sure to draw the Imperials.
A sudden desperate thought came into Bondo’s mind. It was worth the gamble, and it if payed off, he would be hidden. “Hutt Business. I am on Hutt Business; can you get me to Zandrixx without our uninvited guests in armor finding me?” Bondo asked anyone that might be listening.
This dust ball they were on fell into Hutt space. While there was an n imperial governor and a token garrison, everyone knew who really ran things on Tantooine. Zandrixx was a sneaky, no account Poodoo of a Besalisk, which smoked cheap cigars and drank cheap booze. But he was Jabba the Hut’s Underboss in Mos Eisley. Nothing entered or left the Space Port, without Zandrixx getting a piece of it. All Bars, gambling dens, Lair’s of ill repute, etc. all paid protection to Jabba through Zandrixx.
Bondo had done some local work as an Enforcer and debt collector before. But even so, he was taking a huge chance in using the Underboss’s name. He might end up being the new attraction in the Fighting Pits or worse, but he had little choice.