Star Wars - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Star Wars The Force Unleashed: A Fragile Hope ❯ Never Trust a Hutt ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

The door to the palace was larger than he had thought. Many ideas came to mind on how to penetrate the defenses, until a strange eye-like machine jettisoned out of the door, speaking in an alien language that Starkiller wasn’t familiar with. It appeared to be asking him something, so he replied by striking out with force lightning. The machine exploded and the door’s locking mechanisms opened, the systems fried by the attack. The massive door whined loudly from years of sand-clogged servos and metal scraping across the metal floor. Awaiting him were a squad of Gamorean guards, snorting and whining with their pig noses and protruding tusks. A rough voice came overhead, angry and threatening.
In Huttese, it said, “Intruder! You come here to steal from me? Guards, kill that fool!”
Curse that paranoid slug! Starkiller thought. He ducked immediately to avoid being beheaded by a charging guard. Four others followed, squealing loudly in fury, attacking him blindly with little skill and mostly savagery. Grabbing one by the throat through the Force, Starkiller flung it into another, sending the two sprawling away while one more came up from behind. Starkiller jumped into the air, flipping over the guard as it brought its axe down in a deadly strike. Starkiller impaled the guard with the saber and force-pushed him into the wall. Then the blunt end of a Gamorean axe found his head, putting him in a daze for a second before he dodged to the side as his assailant attacked. Force-gripping the guard, he crushed its windpipe, letting it collapse while the last three charged him at once. Starkiller took a deep breath and wrapped the Force around him like a blanket, its currents intensifying with every passing moment of concentration. The roar of its power deafened the assassin, who was blind to the guards still attacking him full-on, paying the swelling ball of energy around him no attention. Pathetic excuses of life. With a huge blast, Starkiller repelled the last three from him, sending them flying across the room and slamming deathly into the walls. The hutt’s voice from before returned, this time with more satisfaction.
“Intruder, come downstairs. I mean you no harm. We’ll discuss business together.”
Starkiller shut off the saber and proceeded down a flight of stairs, but kept the hilt in his hand. The day he trusted a hutt was the day that he died. Jabba’s penthouse was filled to the brink with the vilest bounty hunters and the most disgusting alien life in the galaxy, most of them criminals, all of them scum. One hunter caught his eye who was wearing a Mandelorian helmet and armor, holding a blaster rifle in his hands and watching Starkiller’s every move. He glared slightly at the bounty hunter though the mask covered this. He turned his attention to the worst insult in the room: the slimy, stinking slug that was Jabba the Hutt. A protocol droid stood beside him and was the first to speak up.
“The mighty and benevolent Jabba would like to offer…”
Starkiller silenced the annoying droid with a slight manipulation of the Force, causing its system to malfunction long enough to shut it up. Jabba was visibly impressed by this.
“I admire your style, Sith scum. I could make a man of your talents very wealthy.” The Hutt said in his native language that sounded as revolting as he was.
“The Empire seeks two droids. Astromech and protocol. You will be compensated for any information that your spies can provide.” Starkiller’s voice didn’t betray how much he wanted to run the Hutt through, just to rid the galaxy of any more filth.
“There are many droids on Tatooine…Far too many for even my spies to track.”
Something didn’t sound right.
“Sir,” the protocol translator spoke, “Garindan has reported seeing two such droids in Mos Eisley.”
Jabba sneered angrily and knocked the droid off the platform, “You fool!”
Starkiller knew never to trust a Hutt. Igniting his lightsaber, he began to spring forward to strike down the crime boss, but strangely, Jabba was faster, punching down on a button on his pedestal. The floor underneath Starkiller gave way and he tried to grab for the edge, but only the blades at the end of his fingers scratched the side, causing him to plunge into a dark abyss. Above him, he heard the surprised cries of two Gamorean guards who had stood too close to the trapdoor and have followed him in. Starkiller landed smoothly into a large rocky chamber. Overhead, Jabba’s followers gathered around the grate, cheering and betting.
On what? Starkiller thought. Then the sound of scraping metal tore his attention to a large door opening to the far corner. He stepped back as the unlucky guards that had fallen in began to scream and claw at the hatch where they had come through. A loud roar gave away the creature’s identity.
“A Rancor…impressive.” Starkiller said to himself as he watched the full height of the beast rise above him. The rancor was large for its species but Starkiller still remembered the days on Felucia during his apprenticeship to Darth Vader and then after, while forming the ill-fated rebellion. Shaak Ti’s corrupt learner, Maris Brood, had tamed a dark side-crazed Bull Rancor as a pet. The beast was larger than Jabba’s rancor, but this rancor seemed different, becoming more violent after years of devouring flesh. Starkiller ignited his lightsaber as he watched the beast stomp toward him.
It opened its wide maw and roared again, filled with all the bloodlust and rage from spending its days in isolation, feeding on Jabba’s enemies. Starkiller found himself backing up a step, tapping into the Force, waiting for it to charge, until one of the Gamorean guards let out a shrill squeal, still trying to pry open the hatch. The sound attracted the rancor’s attention; it snorted with hunger and anticipation, stepping heavily toward them. It grabbed one of them in its large bony claw. Starkiller didn’t pay any mind to the rancor’s crunching down on the guard, followed by the sound of crunching bones and the tearing of meat. He had given his attention to the opening and scowled when he saw that the door had closed behind the beast. Something told him that was where he was safest, but then, as he began to lift up the door through the Force, he felt the rough hide of the rancor slam into his back. Starkiller crashed into the dirt, grunting. The rancor’s attention was now on him, blood running down its gnarled teeth, while holding the other screaming Gamorean in its other hand. It roared loudly at him, casting bits of meat and blood over him. The assassin’s lightsaber patiently hummed. Starkiller jumped to his feet, holding his saber ready.
Maybe it was the sound of the guard’s irritating squeal that caused the rancor to quickly bite down on its head, then ripping it away. Finished, it tossed the corpse away and descended on Starkiller. It swiped its claw at him; Starkiller ran along the rock wall, while the attack scored a deep slash in the stone. From there, he force-jumped off the wall and onto the rancor’s back, and then drove the crimson blade of his lightsaber into its rough skin. It cried out in agony, but the wound did little to stop the rancor’s fury. Instead, it leapt back to smash him against the wall. Starkiller narrowly dodged, leaping from its shoulder and soaring to the far wall, finding a firm grip and turning. The rancor, now in pain and brimming with anger, charged at him with an awkward jog. Kicking off the wall, he met the rancor head-on literally, lashing out with his saber. When Starkiller landed, barrel-rolling to take the impact, he heard the creature let out an even louder roar, its right eye completely singed by the lightsaber. It jerked its head side-to-side, as though trying to shake away its suffering, but Starkiller gripped the massive door that closed off the rancor’s cell and began to lift it. The weight of the door was incredible, but mass meant nothing to the Force. With the creature flailing and howling, it didn’t notice that the entrance to its domain was now open and its prey charging toward the opening. It turned toward Starkiller with its one good eye and roared again. Starkiller stood in the opening, lightsaber ignited.
It charged at him; its claws raised in front of it, intent on ripping him limb-from-limb. It passed under the door, descending on the assassin again, until the large door was suddenly released from the Force and came slamming down onto its back. Starkiller grinned underneath his mask, watching the massive beast, the great predator suddenly brought down by the crushing weight of its confines. It let out a grunt, a low growl, and he watched the life in its eye fade. He twirls the lightsaber in his hand, turned to a small door at the far end of the cell and blasted it open with a mighty force-push.