Chapter 1

I don't own Star Wars.

The light was dim and dusty. The air was heavy and bit stale, like no one had come this way in a long time. Luke liked that. It meant the servo-motor wasn't likely to be missed. The boy exhaled gently as he carefully pried the part from a towering pile of scrap and wreckage. A few empty oil cans fell off the top of the stack. Luke froze at the ruckus, but no one came.

"Hooo!" Luke breathed out, hefting his prize in his small, grubby hands. "Ingrasha isa! Hi stoopa machusa junz yuna puna servo?"

The casing had some stress fractures, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with the motor. Luke could tell just by holding it. Bib Fortuna was a wasteful fool. A first-class motor like this would go for 150 credits new, easy.

But then…the Great Jabba the Hutt probably didn't care about 150 credits. That many credits was a lot for a slave like Luke. It was pocket change for a crime lord that controlled half a planet. Either way it wasn't Luke's problem. Luke just needed to tuck the motor away in his frock and…

"Kapa tonka!" A sharp voice cut through the stillness. Stiffening, Luke slowly turned around to see just the man he dreaded. Cheeslo. He hoped his Rodian overseer wouldn't notice the bulge wrapped up in his ragged shirt.

"Kappa tonka, Luka," Cheeslo calmly repeated, green arms crossed and antenna twitching. Luke sighed and slowly raised his hands in the air. The servo-motor he was clutching unfurled from his shirt and clattered to the ground. Luke winced.

"Bona nai kachu bukee," Cheeslo said. You're in trouble boy. "Keel-ee calleya ku kah. Mi xp-chuze chusa kee nano zero."

Luke had promised he wasn't going to steal scrap anymore. But Luke had sneaked a peak at the wiring of the burnt-out R5 astromech that Jabba toasted last week, and Luke knew he could fix it. He wanted to customize it from scratch. He had so many ideas…and it wasn't like Jawas didn't sneak in and pick this stuff over sometimes!

Though Luke admitted that they paid.

"Choy che chopa?" Luke bartered hesitantly. Cheeslo's luxurious holo set sometimes shorted out. Luke knew, because Cheeslo complained to his much poorer charges often enough. Luke might still be able to cut a deal here. "Mi kunta hujoo Halapu che wuta. Me djeza ni, pleeeeease?"

Cheeslo folded his arms. He appeared to consider the offer, then smiled nastily. "Make-cheesay."

Luke's hopes faltered. No exceptions. Luke knew that all too well. It was like, the rule in Jabba's palace. For slaves anyway - everything else in a Hutt Kadjic was up for grabs. Luke supposed that kissing up and keeping straight was how Cheeslo got promoted from slave to overseer. No bribe-taking. It probably also helped that other slaves usually had nothing to barter with.

"Coma," Cheeslo commanded.

Luke sighed and obeyed reluctantly. He knew the servo-motor was here, after all. He'd just come back for it in a few days after Cheeslo forgot. Cheeslo pushed Luke in front of him roughly and began marching him back to the slaves' quarters.

"Chu wuta mi Halapu nunta neehto," Cheeslo commented. "Sinso uba offero."

"Hiiii?" Luke exclaimed. That was not the deal! Cheeslo couldn't just make Luke repair his holoset for nothing in return!

Cheeslo grinned down at the boy nastily. Oh yes he could.

"Dopa meekie, dopa maskey…" Luke muttered, cursing. "Gaggalak koochoo kung…" Cheeslo grabbed Luke's ear and twisted.

Luke cried out. "Ow! Ow! Ow!"

Cheeslo flung Luke into the Nursery when they arrived at the slave quarters. Luke glared sullenly at the other child slaves he bunked with. The sun was just rising outside, so he wondered who had ratted him out. Probably Fixer, Luke thought, ignoring the boy pointedly as he walked to the end of the line up. He and Fixer were two of about five human slaves in the Palace, all kids. There were a couple of twi'leks in his room as well, along with a Khommite and a Gram who hogged the bunk by the door.

Jabba's children, the hutt liked to call them. A cross-section of the galaxy. There were three things the others had in common. They were slaves, they were bigger, and they all thought Luke was crazy.

Well I don't want to talk to them anyway. Luke thought furiously. I don't care what they think.

"Don-ta maro chu. Jabba no meesa meesa," Cheeslo was saying to the group. Luke straightened to attention when Cheelso gave him the evil eye. "Menta t'muda da cleena. Pe chsusa ne musa. Isa rankidoro poodoo."

His usual morning pep talk. Jabba had a big party last night. Guests are still asleep. Clean quietly. Do your work or we'll feed you to the rancor. Cheeslo slapped rags in their waiting hands. Silent meant no sonic cleaners, and Luke inwardly groaned as Cheeslo handed Fixer a bottle of chemical solvent. On a desert planet, synthetic fluids were cheaper than water.

Fixer took the bottle with pride. It was a mark of favor. The fluid burnt human skin horribly. If Fixer was in charge of pouring, he wasn't going to be the one getting his hands scalded. Now Luke knew who ratted on him for sure. Fixer shot Luke a quick smirk.

Cheeslo dismissed them. He moved on to the next room over.

Luke was first out the door, but hesitated when Cheeslo's back was turned. He inserted himself between Fixer and a busty blue Twi'lek named Loonta. Loonta probably wouldn't be one of Jabba's children much longer, Luke reflected grimly. He saw how Jabba's patrons were starting to look at her.

Luke tiptoed as they marched, trying to whisper in Fixer's ear. "One day Fixer," Luke promised in Huttese. "One day!"

Fixer just yawned. "One day what Luke-a?" He drawled in Basic. "Yer daddy's gonna come swooping down and free yeh? Yeh had another dream again?"

Luke flushed. This was one reason they thought he was crazy. "Dreams have nothing to do with it. And my dad is going to come, just so you know. Maybe today."

Fixer just grinned. "Huh? What was that? Speak up, Luka. I don't understand Huttese. Why don't you try Basic?"

"Maaii…dada…weel-cumn." Luke ground out in halting Basic. "Aii deeda…hava-nodder…dreeme. Lasta nita!"

"I got no idea what that means," Fixer chuckled. "Never mind. Bad idea. Don't speak Basic - it hurts my ears."

"I said my dad WILL come." Luke said, reverting to Huttese. "I did have another dream last night. He was here, flying a white ship with flapping wings and…" Luke let his voice trail off.

Actually, last night's dream had been kind of weird. Spice freighters didn't have folding wings like the ship in his dream, and he knew his dad worked on a spice freighter. Also, spaceships didn't normally turn into birds. Yeah.

"Forget it, Fixer," said another boy, a human. "He's been here since he was what, two? No wonder he can't speak a real language."

Luke scowled. He could speak Ryl, Toyodarian, Jawa. The list went on. He thought he even knew some Ghorfa from listening to Tuskens crying in the hills. Like Basic was any better than all that! Jabba didn't even allow it to be spoken in his palace. He couldn't help that his accent was bad.

"Not like it matters," Fixer said. "It's all lunatic rambling."

"I'm going to tell Cheeslo that you're all speaking Basic again." Luke taunted. "Then we'll see who's carrying the cleaning fluid!"

"Cheeslo ain't gonna do anything unless you can prove it," Fixer said absently. "But yeh'll keep your mouth shut anyway, worm." The boy looked over his shoulder and glared down at Luke.

Luke met his gaze defiantly, but after a beat glanced away. Fixer was a full head taller than Luke and twice as wide. Luke brought a hand to his temple subconsciously. There was a scar just below the hairline, from when Fixer struck him so hard the skin had split. No one knew why he'd woken up from that blow. They'd thought he was dead. Bib Fortuna, the majordormo, had almost taken Fixer's finger for it.

"When my dad comes…" Luke whispered.

CT-81-4751 bumped and jostled along with the rest of the legion. His armor knocked against his brothers, and he turned to stare at CT-48-02 who was sitting next to him. CT-48-02 met his look with an equally level, equally expressionless helmet.

CT-81-4751 seemed to understand anyway. The soldier turned back ahead. Yep, they both hated the heat. They were barely through the atmosphere, and the transport was already sweltering. Aircon must have shorted out on entry.

CT-81-4751 felt most sorry for their commander. At least stormtrooper armor was white. It wasn't going to be a good party to attend in black.

"Mi nona xp-ona, Luka," Cheeslo said in a soft sing-song voice as he crept up on the cleaning crew as they scrubbed a hallway on their knees. A special job, just for you.

Luke got a really bad feeling that had nothing to do with dreams or supernatural premonitions. Cheeslo was grinning. Luke didn't like that at all.

"Uhh…choy, Maseda Cheeslo?" Luke asked obediently. He put down his solvent-soaked rag and flexed his stiff, stinging fingers.

"I noticed this morning that you didn't take me very seriously when I threatened you with the rancor," Cheeslo said in Huttese. "Getting too old to be scared of the rancor?"

"No master Cheeslo." Luke replied warily.

Cheeslo looked disappointed. "Oh. That's too bad. Because Malakili has been asking for someone to clean his cage for ages, and we need someone small and scrawny enough that the rancor might mistake it for a rat and ignore it. Do you know any especially small and scrawny slave boys?"

Luke's jaw dropped. Cheeslo laughed.

"I'm just teasing you, Luka!" the Rodian overseer said. "You don't have to clean the rancor's cage."

Luke visibly exhaled in relief.

"Just the pit," Cheeslo said with malice.

Luke froze. He looked up at the Rodian wildly.

"Chop-chop little Luka, time to meet our Palace mascot, " Cheeslo beckoned, savoring the fear on Luke's face as he strode away.

Luke grabbed his rag and stood reluctantly. He glanced back at the rest of the cleaning crew, but the other kids just looked at Luke with the same pity they'd give a dead man. Fixer waved. Luke made a rude gesture in return.

Luke and Cheeslo twisted through the corridors until all too soon Luke found himself at the bottom of a set of stairs, in front of a narrow metal gate.

"I'll take that," Cheeslo said, picking Luke's rag out of his balled-up fist. Luke thought he almost missed the chemical burning. "No one cares about scrubbing down here. Just pick up skulls and make some tidy piles. The rancor keeps tripping. Though, if you're brave enough, I'm sure Malakii wouldn't mind if someone volunteered to scrape the rust from his baby's cage."

"Nobata!" Luke denied vehemently. "No way!"

"You sure?" Cheeslo appraised the boy. "We can lift the blast door just a crack, so you can clean better. Then we'll see how fast your thieving hands are. Little Luka versus the rancor's claws."

Luke swallowed.

Cheeslo chuckled and unlocked the gate. He held it open expectantly. They stared at each other for a tense moment, before Luke realized he was supposed to go into the pit alone. Cheeslo wasn't going with him.

Gathering himself, Luke raised his head and walked into the rancor pit. The rancor wasn't even in there right now! There was nothing to be scared of. No rancor, no fear.

Though Luke knew rancor was just…right over there…behind that rusted steel blast door…

Luke snapped his heels smartly and turned around to face Cheeslo. To his shock, the gate was shut. The lock on the gate engaged with an ominous click.

"Hiii!" Luke hissed, running to the gate in sudden panic. "Cheeslo! Don't lock me in, I won't go anywhere"

"Be careful of the blood." Cheeslo said through the bars. "Some of those scraps are a little…fresh to be picking up with bare hands."

Luke looked down at his empty hands. He looked back up to see Cheeslo disappearing up the stairs, waving Luke's chemical-laden rag with a jaunty laugh.

Luke clenched his fists in rage. "Cheeslo!"

"Don't shout, bukee," Cheeslo's voice echoed down into the pit. "I think the rancor is sleeping. You wouldn't want to wake it up, would you?"

Luke nervously glanced at the rancor's door. He backed away from the bars of the gate. His only way out was locked. His only way out!

No. Luke collected his wits and sighed. The only way out is to finish my work. Although that's never really a way out, because there's always more work for a slave.

He turned away from safety and shuffled closer to center of the pit. How many times had he heard the screams of entertainment echo through the palace? With tentative, morbid curiosity, Luke stepped out into the watery light filtering through a viewing grate from the throne room above. He'd never actually seen the rancor in action. Jabba's children generally weren't allowed at any of the crime lord's parties, unless the Hutt needed more servants. Luke was naturally not selected for the honor. He was only fit to clean up the aftermath.

Skeletons and old bones were propped randomly around the edge of the arena. Flesh was clinging to some of them, and the carnage was obviously not all from last night. Luke wrinkled his nose. To delay, he looked up again at the grate that substituted for a ceiling. He pictured Jabba's face up there, leering. Fortuna and Cheeslo were easy to imagine as well. Salacious Crumb was laughing.

Now he knew what his last sight in life was likely to be. Jabba, laughing at him as he was eaten alive by an alien beast.

Luke tried to still the slight shaking in his hands. It was true, what the other kids said. He had been with Jabba for a long time. Maybe since he was born. It was getting harder to remember. He wasn't sure how old he was or what was his birthday. How he'd gotten here. All he really had was his name and his dreams. And maybe one true memory. Luke's mind drifted back -

"Your father was a fantastic pilot, Luke," said a Sad Man with a red beard. Luke liked Sad Man's beard. He pulled at it, making Sad Man smile. "He was a hero."

Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him away from Sad Man's beard. Luke started to cry.

"Hush, child!" said Angry Man. "And you - ! Don't put ideas in the boy's head. His father was a smuggler. A navigator on a spice freighter."

"That's what you plan to tell him?" questioned the sad one.

"Yes. Now you've seen the boy, Kenobi. He's fine. Get out."

"Do not worry. I will. I know this is hard for you but - Well. Thank you. Thank you both."

Sad Man was gone. A tired lady leaned in to give Luke a kiss.

"He won't forget, Owen. He will want the stars. He's a Skywalker."

Skywalker. Luke clung to that like a lifeline when the other kids teased him or tried to convince him that his parents sold him away. It wasn't true! Luke bet he was probably kidnapped, like most everyone else.

Luke remembered how he used to make up stories when he was littler. Before Jabba started working him, when he was too small to be useful yet and still had time to play with scrap bits and imaginary friends. Space pirates stole him from his cradle and killed his mother, who died defending his life. Or Luke got lost on Nar Shadda and slavers took him in. The fantasies all ended the same way. His father was tracking him, wanting him, always searching. He was alive- not like Fixer's folks- and he was hero who was going to swoop down and save him.

And he's going to kill everyone at Jabba's who is cruel and hateful. Luke reminded himself. He was going to take Luke away to the stars. Luke was going to be free. Luke would become a pilot, and they would travel together across space, saving the galaxy, father and son.

Cheeslo will be dead. And Fixer will be sorry.

Swallowing hard, Luke focused back on the task at hand. Pile up bones. Simple enough. He wondered if any of them belonged to someone he'd known.

Okay, this looks like a Gamorrean. Luke thought, picking up a jaw fragment with a tusk. It was clean, so it was probably older. Who got sucked into the pit last month by accident? Grissom? No, I think I saw him this morning. Gurdumn! That was his name.

"Gurdumn." Luke said in solemn remembrance. Reverently, he walked to the side of the pit and placed the jaw in clean sand. No one gave funerals for slaves, but Luke liked to make a ritual anyway when he heard someone died. It was too sad to just disappear. Even if the other slave kids thought he was crazy for it. Luke didn't think he was crazy - crazy would be admitting out loud that sometimes it felt like the dead said thanks.

Luke walked back to the center to pick up another bone. It was a foot, humanoid. Luke took a guess from the scrap of shimmering green cloth caught around it that it belonged to a dancing girl. Fren? Branda? Ecklu? Luke hadn't seen any of them lately. He wasn't sure which of the three had been fed to the rancor and which had just been transferred to Jabba's home on Nal Hutta.

Branda, he decided, after pondering over the few threads of rotting skin left clinging to a bloody, painted toenail. Branda always took care of her nails.

"Branda, I remember you," Luke murmured. As he set the bones down he hoped it really was Branda. Gosh, it would be awkward if he ran into her tomorrow.

The next pieces were harder. They were chewed to bits, and Luke couldn't make heads or tails of what any of them had been in life. With a sigh, Luke just gathered what he could reach and added them to the pile. He found Gurdumn's horn on the other side of the arena, but the stack was too tall by now to dig through and reunite the horn with the poor man's jaw bone. Luke wasn't that crazy. He set it on top with a silent apology.

Luke looked around the chamber. No more clean bones. He had been trying not to look, not to think about the rotting corpses, because there were about four of them…maybe five, because he was definitely counting an extra dug's leg that had no body for it…but…

Four corpses. Two rotted, two fresh.

Luke took a deep, shaky breath. Time for the heavy lifting.

KER-CLANG! A hard and metal sound echoed through the palace.

Luke froze, looking up. Sand sifted from the grate overhead and fell in Luke's eyes. Luke rubbed it away, cursing.

Silence. Luke waited a moment more, but nothing came. Luke wondered what had happened. Did a sandcrawler hit the front gate? Something explode? Probably nothing. The most exciting thing that happened at Jabba's was that people got fed to the scarlacc.

Not going to be me. Luke thought. Cautiously, he approached the cleanest looking corpse. It was some kind of insectoid, with hard, iridescent black armor. The rancor had evidently found it inedible. Luke thought the shell was pretty. For, you know, being crushed and oozing green blood.

Luke tried to grab an antenna and pull. The body was small, but really heavy. Luke wasn't strong enough. With disgust, Luke reached down to grab the whole head and threw his weight into it. The body slid a few inches.

Luke let go, breathing heavy. He slumped to the floor. Kreth! The one good thing about the rancor's pit was that it was cool. The day was wearing on and it was probably sweltering outside already.

KLANG CLANG! Krik krik rumble CLANG!

Luke jumped up. What was going on? That wasn't just an accident. Something was happening.

"Achuta?" The boy called out. "Ach'ta hii? Choy ap-xmese?"

More rumbles. Luke thought he heard a distant shout. Luke called again. "Cheeslo!?"

Alarms went off all over palace. "BEDASA!" Luke heard a cry echo. "Emperiolo su dasaa!" Another voice cried. "Me nu ap-xchisu!" A third voice. "Jee kocho vo blastoh! E huusu guards!"

Imperials? Luke thought. Impossible. That's just not… More shouts echoed and Luke definitely heard a blaster.

"Mi kreespa!" Luke exclaimed. "Cheeslo! Cheeslo!!" Where was Cheeslo? Stormtroopers were raiding the palace. They needed to evacuate. Luke needed to get out of the pit. He ran to the gated exit and started rattling the bars for all they were worth.

"Cheeslo! Cheeslo! Cheeslo! Cheeslo!" He called. "Benake dukee Cheeslo!" Blaster fire rang overhead and Luke heard screams. He couldn't get his mind around it. Why were the Imperials attacking? Didn't Jabba pay off the planetary governor in Mos Eisley? What went wrong? The Empire never cared about Jabba. They hardly controlled Tatooine, what was there to want here?

"Cheeslo! Malakii! Grunta! Fixer!?" Nobody answered Luke's calls. Meanwhile the sound of battle got louder. Luke rushed back to the center of the pit. Blaster fire flashed and Luke saw the boot of a gamorrean guard step on the grate. The battle had reached the throne room.

"Ach'ta! Ach'ta!" Luke screamed up at the grate. "Hey! Help me!"

"Look," someone said in Basic nearby. The voice was tinny. Luke whirled to the gate to see two stormtroopers standing on the staircase, blasters leveled. "It's a kid."

"Uba nero m'chasa!" Luke shouted at the Emperiolos defiantly. You'll never take me alive. He darted around the corner and curled behind a pile of bones, out of range. Inwardly he was shaking badly. How was he going to get out of here? He didn't really want to die!

"Captain," one of the troopers said into a comm, "We've got another one of down here. Locked in some kind of cage. I see bodies, I'm not sure what this is...Copy that...yeah, I'll try. Hey kid!" The trooper lowered his blaster ever so slightly and waved at Luke.

Luke didn't answer.

"Hey kid! Come out. We're on stun. We're here to free you."

Like Luke was going to buy that. "Kee hasa do blastoh fi!" he demanded from behind his pile of bones. Put down your weapons first. Emperiolos were not to be trusted and they never freed slaves. He wasn't going to step out there with blasters trained on him, "stun" or not.

"Hey kid! Come out!"

"No!" Luke shouted in Huttese.

"I don't think he speaks Basic."

"Oh man. Why is Lord Vader doing this?"

"Shut up. Let's just get this gate open. Hey kid! You hold tight there, alright? We'll get you out real quick, then take you out of the palace. You're going to be free. F-r-e-e. Understand?"

Luke peeked out from behind his pile of bones. One of the troopers had holstered his weapon and was now working on the lock panel. The other turned to face the opposite direction, guarding the first trooper's back and watching the staircase.

More screams and flashes and sparks filtered overhead. There was another huge concussive blast, but Luke hardly heard it. He felt a numbing sense of disbelief come over him. Are they telling the truth. Are they here to free me?

Quietly, Luke got up. He slowly walked to the gate, as if in one of his dreams. The stormtrooper at the lock glanced up, said something to his buddy, and went back to work. The trooper on guard peeked over his shoulder at Luke, then returned to watching the stairs.

Luke curled his fingers around the gate's cold iron bars. Stormtroopers are so tall, Luke thought, observing them. He'd never seen an Emperiolo so close. The soldier in gleaming white armor had to be twice his height. Luke wondered if maybe…maybe his dad was under there.

Luke barked a harsh laugh. Now THAT was crazy.

"What?" The first trooper said curiously as he worked on the lock, helmet shifting slightly towards Luke.

Luke shook his head, lowering it in self-reproof. This stormtrooper wouldn't understand. All his dreams and fantasies, his absurd faith in destiny…and he was getting freed by an Emperiolo. Oh well, he'd told Fixer that someone would free them all some day.

Luke perked up. Free is free, but these Emperiolos were taking way too long.

"The lock has a manual override." Luke helpfully instructed the trooper in huttese. "Cut the red wire and splice it to the black one. It'll open."

"What's he saying?" The trooper standing guard asked.

"I have no idea. Don't distract me kid, I'm trying to get you out. O-u-t."

"Ah-ooht," Luke agreed, trying Basic. He pointed at the box and gestured with his fingers to show two wires bumping together. "Rhed wherr. Blackeh wherr."

"I think we need a protocol droid," said Idiot One at the lock.

"What language is that?" Said Idiot Two at the stairs.

Luke banged his head against the gate. Just great! Cheeslo had a catchy maxim for this. He guessed it was true. Emperiolo troopa-stoopa. Imperial troops are stupid! Can't speak Huttese. Can't recognize Basic. I'm finally free and they can't figure out the karking lock!

Three giant explosions shook the throne room and sand poured into the pit from above. Luke looked up. He heard a faint squeal and turned around just to catch a gammorean guard tumble into the pit through the trap chute. The pig creature flopped over and Luke saw a giant smoking hole in his chest where a blaster got him in the heart. Blood seeped into the sand where the wound hadn't fully cauterized.

Luke's pupils dilated at the sight fresh blood.. They lied! Those weapons are not set for stun! His eyes widened further in alarm. The smell of rare meat wafted across the pit. Oh kark.

At the end of the dim room, a giant rusted blast door rumbled. Luke heard a muffled snarl. Inexorably, the gate began to lift up, an automatic cycle triggered by the trap chute.

"You fools!" Luke screamed at the troopers in panic. "Red wire to black wire! Hurry, hurry!"

"Stop shouting kid!" The trooper at the controls yelled back.

"No!" Luke flung himself against the bars. He thrust a skinny arm through the gap, flailing in vain to grab at the wires himself. "The rancor! Come on! Rhed wherr-blackeh wherr, RHED wherr-BLACKEH wherr!"

The trooper at the controls cursed. "Krething sithspawn, shut it!"

The trooper guarding the stairs checked over his shoulder at the commotion. Luke could sense his sudden alarm even through the expressionless mask. "Wait, 51, what is that?"

The trooper at the controls finally looked up. "Holy shit…"

Luke turned around. The gate was open. The rancor ambled out into the pale light. It shuffled to the dead gammorean, sniffed it, then turned its beady eyes on Luke. There was another explosion somewhere in the palace and the rancor roared.

Oh fierfek. Luke thought. Mi rankidoro e'nachu.

"Get down kid!" Shouted the trooper with the blaster.

Luke instantly sunk to the ground. Three shots snapped overhead, sizzling his hair. One grazed the rancor by the eye and the other two shattered harmlessly on the wall behind it. Luke felt the creature's rage wash over him. It was injured and it was mad!

"Kreth!" Cursed the stormtrooper.

Yeah, Kreth! Luke agreed sarcastically.

The rancor launched itself at the nook hiding the gate, scraping a giant claw at Luke. Luke screamed, trying to wriggle further back. The trooper at the lock let loose a string of obscenities and the guard shuffled, searching for better aim through the bars of the gate. His blasts just burned the skin on the giant arm grasping around the cave.

"Stop it, stop it!" Luke cried, "You're making it worse!"

"Kriff it!" Shouted the stormtrooper at the lock. There was a shower of sparks. "Ow! Sithspit!"

Luke felt a tingle of warning run from the base of his neck down his spine. Instinctively, he rolled away just as a blast door came down over the gate, right where he'd been huddled. A piece of his slave's frock got stuck under the door and tore. Luke didn't notice, because at that moment the rancor's claw came down in a deadly arc, plunging deep into the sand a hairsbreath from Luke's head. Luke sprung to his feet, dashed past the rancor, and sprinted to the other side of the pit.

Kark, kark, karking, kreth! "E chu ta!" Luke screamed with his remaining breath as he ran. "Echuta uba Emperiolo!"

"Kid! Kid!" came a muffled reply from one of the troopers behind the blast door. They pounded in vain on the metal. Luke heard blaster fire and more banging.

The rancor seemed to realize that Luke wasn't at the gate any more. It swung around, weak and beady eyes glaring.

I'm dead. Luke told himself in dismay. His thoughts skittered out of control. I was so close to being free, and now I'm dead! This wouldn't have happened if it were really my father who came to free me. Why wasn't it my father?

Luke felt absurdly bitter. Where is my father?

The rancor advanced. It's lumbering steps were slow and deliberate, picking up speed as it locked onto Luke's scent.

Luke darted again, taking cover behind the grave of bones he had laboriously piled earlier. His hand closed on a giant femur that was almost as long as he was tall. As the beast lunged down, jaw gaping, Luke summoned everything he had and thrust the bone between the rancor's teeth. It wedged firmly, digging into its gums and drawing blood. The rancor snarled in frustration, unable to crack the bone.

Luke pulled his tiny fist back from the rancor's maw while it was distracted. He scrambled beneath the monster's legs, running again to another tower of bones, this one piled up against the wall. He climbed on top of it, reaching for the ceiling grate. The wall was too smooth to brace against and he was too short. It was no way out, anyway. What could he do, dangle from the grate like a treat? Luke sobbed, desperate and terrified. Father!

Father!… A faint cry echoed across the mental landscape of Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith. Vader froze.

"My lord, sectors five and six are clear," reported a stormtrooper at Vader's side. "We're still facing heavy resistance in sectors seven to nine. We should, however, have the palace in an hour."

"Excellent work, Commander." Vader rumbled. He turned his attention back to the pale twi'lek trembling and grasping at Vader's hand on his throat. "Do you hear that, Fortuna? You are done. Where is Jabba?"

"Muta…kuchita…" Fortuna gasped.

"No." Vader said with deceptively cold patience. "Where is Jabba Desilijic Tiure?" He raised Fortuna a little higher. The majordomo's legs kicked pitifully at empty air.

"In the…the garage…" Fortuna sputtered in Basic. "Speeder."

"Aha." Vader said. "Thank you, majordomo." He snapped the twi'lek's neck and let the body slump to the floor. "Send a second squad to sector nine." Vader ordered. "Jabba is a fool if he thinks he can escape on speeder. The compound is surrounded. Nevertheless I want no mistakes."

"Yes my Lord." The commander tapped his helmet and issued an order.

Vader stood in the hallway and breathed. Something was wrong. What had that been? It was weak, but he almost thought he'd felt a slight tremor in the Force.

"Commander, where is fighting heaviest?"

The commander listened to reports. "Sector seven, my lord. The throne room. They've pushed us out and are holding our troops off with concussion grenades in the hallway. We have three wounded, no casualties yet."

"Let them know I'm on my way." Lord Vader turned swiftly and strode down the corridor. "How is the emancipation progressing?"

"Well my lord." The captain said, following. "We have at least twenty slaves in custody. Most have surrendered, although some are fighting for their owners if you can believe it. There are also…several children, very young. As you anticpated."

Vader nodded. He had already known, but the confirmation fed his rage. Children, enslaved, like he had once been himself. He pulled the Dark Side around his mind like a cloak. That lifetime was long ago. Now he had power, influence. It took too long under the complacent Jedi and nine years under Palpatine, but Darth Vader was making good on Anakin's old promise.

I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new Empire. Vader recited. He knew the words by rote. Obi-Wan was long dead, but Vader hoped his former master was watching.

The throne room was indeed a mess when he arrived. Vader pursed his lips distastefully. His troopers were huddled around a corner, several attending to a clone who had his helmet off and looked concussed.

"Cover me." Vader said, waving them away from the fallen soldier. He would be fine - he was a clone after all. They were bred for resilience. The troopers obeyed and rallied behind Vader. The Sith Lord ignited his red lightsaber with a snap-hiss and advanced purposefully towards the throne room.

"Echutaa! Meeyasa puchi!" Someone cried behind the heavily dented blast door. A compartment opened and a blinking thermal detonator shot out, screeching in warning as it approached it's final countdown.

Vader lifted a hand. The detonator changed course in mid-air, flying back to the door. It hit the metal and exploded with a ground-shaking blast. The door buckled under the explosion, while Vader shielded his men. Vader summoned the Dark Side and the warped door ripped from it's hinges and flew back into the throne room in a spray of debris and smoke, stunning the criminals inside.

The shock lasted only a moment. Scattered blaster bolts streamed into the hallway. Vader deflected them with another flick of his gloved hand. In three swift strides he descended into the throne room, cleaving a rushing Gammorean guard in half before it even had a chance to react.

"Kill them all." Vader commanded. His troops spilled past him to subdue the resistance. Vader walked out further onto the throne room floor. Something caught his attention over the screams and squeals of dying scum. He looked down to see something ambling in the shadows beneath the grate under his boots.

I sense…

"Sir!" The commander barked, still shadowing Vader. "We have a report from 51 that—"

Vader plunged his lightsaber into the grate. Melted slag piled and curled as the red blade cut a hole.

Luke couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't. He was so tired. The rancor roared, and Luke somehow gathered the strength to make another dash across the sandy pit. He ducked under a swiping claw and zagged in the other direction.

After Luke gave up on the grate, he'd found a rusty axe. He'd tried using it, but it was too heavy and just got stuck in the rancor's forearm. Now running was his only option. Unfortunately, it looked like the monster was going to last a lot longer than he was. Luke was covered in rancor blood, he floor was getting mucky, and the beast was just angrier than ever.

Straining to breathe, Luke tripped on a corpse and tumbled end-over-end to crash into the bone pile he'd worked so hard on earlier. Lying there, Luke closed his eyes and cursed. Pain shot from his twisted ankle in hot, angry sparks.

I didn't even get to meet my father…

Get up Luke! He's coming.

Luke's eyes flew open. He raised his head off the ground.

Ben? Luke hadn't heard that voice since…

Luke executed another roll. The rancor's claws slammed down on the bone-pile, crushing it. Luke tried to stand, half-running half-limping, but faltered as his ankle gave out beneath him just before he reached the other wall. The young slave bit down a cry and scooted back against the wall as the rancor lumbered menacingly forward.

Ben! Father!

Crash! Clatter! A piece of the ceiling grate fell to the floor of the pit. Something billowing and black dropped to the ground after it, between the rancor and Luke.

Luke shouted. He wasn't sure what he said, but his mind was filled with an inky, angry darkness. It boiled with red like the glowing blade that flashed and suddenly the rancor was missing most of an arm.

Luke's thoughts caught up with himself. The dark helmet shifted slightly. Luke registered the glint of light on pitch black eye pieces. A searing gaze passed over him.

Darth Vader! Luke recognized the face of the Empire instantly. Is that really Darth Vader!?

The rancor roared, and Darth Vader turned back to battle. Another flash, and the rancor sported a gaping wound on its neck. The massive beast was too thick to behead in one blow, but its throat was draining blood. It roared with a pained burble.

Luke looked from the dismembered arm to the flailing beast couldn't believe it was still going. How could the rancor breathe? The rancor reached for Vader with its remaining claw. Luke saw a third flash, and suddenly it had no hands.

Luke was in dazed awe. This was amazing. Darth Vader was amazing. The black-cloaked silhouette in front of him seemed towering, so big and so strong. Luke suddenly wished he was that powerful.

Darth Vader changed tactics, shifting smoothly to a blitz offense. Swiftly, he went for the legs. The rancor screamed and stumbled, retreating back into its cave. It snapped futilely at the dark lord, and Luke held his breath as Vader landed another blow, taking out an eye and part of the upper jaw. It seemed Vader planned to take the creature apart piecemeal.

Luke winced at the blast of pain the creature let off with each blow. Its bloody writhing was horrific. The poor rancor was flailing about with stubs for arms and half a face. Vader flashed at the legs again, and the creature crumpled to one knee in its cell. Vader flashed, and there was less of an arm. Flash! One leg!

The creature started to topple. From where he was lying, Luke seemed to recognize the danger before his savior did.

"Nobata!" Luke cried. No! His eyes lit on a red button in the back of the rancor's cell. Luke found he was hefting a rock before his mind even considered what he was about to do. Could he hit that? He faltered.

Trust your instincts! Ben nudged in his mind.

Luke let the rock fly. It sailed straight as an arrow, striking the red button across the room. The door to the cell slammed down on the rancor's head. The rancor was pinned to the ground before it could fall on Lord Vader. It let out a sad sort of whimper, then died.

Luke was heaving heavily. He'd never felt so relieved. Darth Vader stood silently for a moment, studying the creature. He extinguished his lightsaber. He turned to look at Luke. Luke smiled, a little weakly, and Vader looked back at the rancor.

"Let's go." Vader said crisply. He clipped his lightsaber to his belt and strode towards the exit where the two troopers were still banging against the blast door. Luke registered more voices above. He looked up, and saw more white-helmeted stormtroopers peering down the hole Vader had cut in the metal grate. No Jabba or Cheeslo.

Guess Cheeslo won't be my last sight after all, Luke thought wryly. He was too burned to laugh at his own poor joke.

Luke pushed himself to his feet and limped to where Darth Vader was standing. He skirted one of the alien bodies that were no longer his problem. Luke leaned against the rough-hewn wall and stared up at Lord Vader, who ignored him. Luke kept staring.

After a moment, the black mask tilted down to face him. Luke smiled again. The man in armor shifted, and Luke got the feeling that for the first time the man was really looking at him. Something in his posture was different.

"Mi Luka." Luke introduced.

Vader turned away. Luke opened his mouth to say something further, express debt, when the blast door slid open to reveal a whole squad of harried-looking stormtroopers and a mangled gate cut from its hinges. Luke wondered which ones were the idiots that couldn't get him out in the first place.

A trooper with an orange pad on his shoulder pushed his way to the front. "My lord," he said. "We have Jabba detained outside sector nine. We are waiting on your commands."

"Very well." Vader said to the commander tonelessly. "Assist him. His ankle appears to be fractured. Everyone follow me."

"Yes my lord." The Commander saluted. Vader strode away.

The Commander marched over to Luke and offered his arm. Luke took it, and the man swept him off his feet, settling Luke on his hip as the troopers marched along behind the sweeping form of the dark lord.

Luke squinted a bit when they hit the light of outside. It was hot! Pushing 0900 hours! He'd raise an arm to shield from the sandstone glare, but he was still riding his stormtrooper escort. Somehow Lord Vader had gotten ahead, so when they exited the garage the black-armored man was standing in front of a canopied speeder and a full legion of stormtroopers.

Floating on the barge alone, was Jabba the Hutt.

Luke's stormtrooper helper let him down. The Commander advanced to Vader's side, where a uniformed aide had also approached and handed the tall man a data pad. The others in Luke's escort joined the rest of the soldiers standing in perfect rows at attention. Quietly, Luke limped after them and squeezed unobtrusively into their ranks. Fortunately they made shade for someone small like him.

Lord Vader looked at the data pad for a long moment. Luke wondered what was going on. Everyone was so still. He studied Jabba, who looked like he was still suffering under the effects of whatever spice he'd smoked last night. His great yellow eyes weren't focusing properly.

Luke mused if he was supposed to muster pity for his owner.

"Jabba Desilijic Tiure." Vader said finally. Luke snapped back to the present. "I believe I am supposed to read your charges."

"I have lawyers on Coruscant who will…" Jabba began.

The data pad sparked and crumpled in Vader's hand. He dropped it in the sand.

Luke looked around, wide-eyed. No one moved an inch.

"Your lawyers cannot save you now." Vader said. "Come now, Jabba. Did you really think you would get away alive? When you knew that I was coming after you…" There was a dark, rough sound that Luke realized was a chuckle. It gave him chills. Luke shifted uncomfortably, biting down the pain that flared in his ankle.

"Unfortunately for you," Vader continued, taking a menacing step forward. "There are new laws in place today. Imperial laws. And under them your crimes supercede a trial."

"Mi lorda tatooio." Jabba refuted in huttese. "Emperiolos cannot hope to rule this planet alone. You need the hutts. The Emperor would not want me dead."

Vader circled around the speeder, arms clasped behind his back. His cape swept the sand and his polished plastisteel armor gleamed in the sun. He brushed close to the fat slug lolling nervously on the vehicle and paused.

"The Emperor isn't here, Jabba." Vader leaned in. His voice fell low. "Today I am judge, justice, as well as…"

The Hutt's eyes widened in alarm. "Ani-!" Jabba exclaimed. He choked off.

Luke looked between the Hutt and Darth Vader in confused shock. Darth Vader had a hand flung out, slowly clenching into a fist. The lord's stance was wide, angry. Luke's owner scrabbled at his neck with his withered little arms, eyes bulging and rolling back as his tongue flopped out with a trail of spittle.

Darth Vader released his shaking fist. Jabba slumped over, dead. "Say hello to Gardulla for me." Vader said with black mirth.

The desert was silent. What...just happened? Luke thought, shaking. How did he do that? Was that magic? Luke bit his lip to stifle any noise as he looked to the soldiers around him. No one else seemed surprised or startled.

"What about the others, my Lord?" The Commander asked after a long moment passed.

"Execute those who resisted." Vader said faintly, almost remotely. "Run a scan over the rest to identify tracking chips. Sort out the slaves and kill everyone else."

"Yes my Lord." The captain saluted.

Kill everyone else? Luke was aghast. You're just going to kill everyone else!? Dimly, Luke recalled fantasizing about that a few times, but to hear the order given…!

Darth Vader looked directly past the speeder to where Luke was tucked in the ranks of stormtroopers. The boy jumped, thoughts scattered. Woah!

"Commander." Vader questioned flatly. "Why is that boy here?"

The Commander searched, not knowing where Vader was looking. His eyes lit on Luke.

"Ah." The trooper said, sounding a little nervous. "You said to follow you. We, ah, didn't have time to—"

"Take him to Child Services." Vader dismissed, stalking off.

A/N: So, I reeeeaaally wanted to do one of the challenges on the L/V Yahoo writers list. That place is practically dead, but so much good stuff came out of there that I had to pay tribute.

I'm posting this as I go, with an extremely vague outline sketched. I guess the Force will guide me.

The Huttese is taken from Wookiepedia and/or made up. I tried my hardest to use canon phrases, but the language isn't like Elvish or Klingon where some obsessive nerds actually made grammar and vocabulary that you can speak and follow. I mostly focused on capturing the feel and the gist. The first conversation is as follows:

Ho! I don't believe it! What kind of idiot throws out a first class servo-motor?

Hands up!

Hands up Luke!

You're in trouble boy. I'm disappointed in you. You promised you wouldn't do this anymore.

What's your price? I can fix the holoset in your room for good. Just let me keep this, pleeeeaaase?

No exceptions.

You'll fix my holoset later tonight. Since you offered.

What!