Star Wars - Kenobi

“But Jabba knows the people of Mos Eisley feel better when he’s around. So at this office, Jabba is always in. My cousin Lhojugg and I are the joint caretakers.”
    “Is that so,” Orrin said, not caring. No Jabba? He was thrilled!
    Mosep looked up, a sparkle in his eye. “I also travel under Jabba’s name from time to time, representing his interests. It doesn’t hurt to confuse the competition. So, yes, for today’s purposes—with our master’s kind permission—you could say I am Jabba.”
    Jorrk chortled. “Monkey Jabba, Monkey Jabba!”
    “That’s unkind, Jorrk,” Mosep said, casting a sidelong glance at the tough. “You’ll have to excuse my associate. He saw a Geniserian sand monkey once, and hasn’t failed to find his joke funny since. I am, of course, a Nimbanel.” He looked back at Orrin. “A good tactic for Jabba, though, don’t you think?”
    Orrin felt impatient. “Why are you telling me this?”
    “Because you’re part of the family, Orrin, my boy. No secrets among us, are there?”
    “I’m not part of your family!”
    Jorrk giggled again.
    Mosep bristled his whiskers and reached for his datapad. “If you insist on getting to business—let’s see. Yes, here’s your record.” He read quietly, his hairless lips every so often smacking. “My, this is disturbing.”
    While Mosep continued the routine, his tongue occasionally clicking, Orrin fought the urge to move, to say something. This is torture!
    At the thought, Orrin glanced up and saw movement above the netting. A dark, lithe figure moved past the lights, glancing against the mesh and raising a racket. “Something … something’s up there.”
    Mosep didn’t look up from the datapad. “That would be the Kayven whistlers,” he said. “Carnivorous fliers. They live in the rafters—but occasionally we hoist a treat up to them.”
    Orrin looked up with alarm. The square shape nearly above him, he now saw, was a cage, attached to a pulley system reaching into unseen heights above. “A treat ?”
    Mosep looked at Boopa. “Yes, who was the treat today?”
    Boopa lifted a human leg bone from the floor beside him. “Problem gambler, I think.”
    Mosep smiled at Orrin. “They’ve had their fill. You can relax.”
    Orrin could do no such thing. There were more sounds above—and more shadows. For a moment, he almost thought he saw a bipedal figure in motion, soaring from one of the ventilation slits to the cable. Another clatter followed, with more wings slamming the nets.
    “I’ve read enough.” The Nimbanel accountant set down the datapad. “You owe us quite a bit of money, my boy.”
    “I’m not your boy, Binneed!”
    “All I know is certain obligations have not been met,” Mosep said, smiling. “But I’m getting ahead of myself. You called this meeting.” Mosep sat down in his chair and cracked his hairy knuckles. “I suspect it’s not because you’re ready to repay in full.”
    “I’m working on that,” Orrin said, reaching for his courage. “No. I want you out,” he said, firmly.
    “Out?” Mosep smiled mildly. His long whiskers bristled. “How so?”
    “Out of my hair. Your punks have been coming around my ranch, my store—”
    “ Your store?” Suddenly interested, Mosep looked again at the datapad. “No, no. My records show your holdings only include the ranch, the vehicles in the garages, and the barracks for your muscle.”
    “They’re called farmhands !” Orrin raged. “Not that you people would know. You haven’t done a day’s honest work in your lives.”
    “Oh, they work,” Mosep said, idly sorting credits. “It may not be poking around in the sand or sweating the air for water, but it’s work. Investments are made. Capital is expended. And a return is expected.”
    “Yeah, or you sweat us !”
    “You’re the one making this unpleasant, Orrin. Or Master Gault, if you prefer. The fact you’re dealing with me ought to be a sign of respect, I should think. My superior knows there are different kinds of business, and that they must be conducted in different ways.” He turned his black eyes on Orrin. “Believe me, if Jabba wanted to deal unpleasantly, you’d have known it by now. Still, we must check on our investments—and that means going to the site. Including this store, which you seem to keep offices in.”
    Another clatter from above. The hoodlums paid it no mind.
    “My business depends on my reputation,” Orrin said, chastened. “Part of the value in my