by Ken Liu
“Trying something new could get you a promotion,” I whispered in his left ear.
He cackled at some idiotic, witless comment from Jabba and scratched at his ear to make me go away.
My host had no ambition. Sigh.
I took to roaming the palace, even during the day. One could take only so much of living under the dripping chin of that mountain of malignant flesh. I felt the ground shake as Jabba’s band shifted from one musical style to another in a vain effort to excite that sluggish brain. I held my tongue as I clung to the wall and observed the grotesque henchmen vying with one another to laugh the loudest as Jabba tortured his hapless slave, Oola the dancer. Salacious had the dubious honor of being the leader in that competition. I hopped through Jabba’s treasury and examined his collection of exquisite loot—unfortunately marred by the slime from his grubby hands.
And then everything turned topsy-turvy with the arrival of Leia.
Never mind the bold gambit with the Wookiee prisoner, the preposterous disguise, and the clicking thermal detonator. Never mind the sheer audacity of navigating Jabba’s palace in the dark and stealing his most prized possession from right under Jabba’s nose. Never mind the fact that by the standards of most sapient creatures, Leia’s plan was absolutely mad.
The thing I most admired about her? How calm she was after her plan failed.
The absurd outfit that Jabba made her wear was designed to wear her down, break her resistance. It was too cold for the ambient temperature of the palace, and it exposed her to constant harassment from the Hutt. Jabba was practically an artist when it came to using disgust and humiliation as weapons. Countless enemies who would never have given in to mere pain broke down under the Hutt lord’s vile mind games.
But watching her, you’d never know Leia was bothered by any of it. She was utterly calm. Reclining at the center of the hectic, repugnant maelstrom that was Jabba’s court, she was an untouchable center of tranquility. Though she was Jabba’s prisoner, she acted like a princess, a queen.
I had never seen such grace in a human. Jabba could not defeat her.
Later, in the darkness, as Jabba, Salacious, and the rest of the court lay asleep, I hopped out of my nest atop the monkey-lizard. With a single bound, I landed in Leia’s hair, which, I noted with some wistfulness, seemed far more comfortable and reminded me of the soft moss back on Kowak that I used to mix with Salacious’s rough hair to give myself a homey touch. That intricate bun on top of her head would make a nice bell tower, and the long braid would be a fantastic staircase.
But enough real estate fantasies. I had a mission.
“Pssst,” I whispered into Leia’s ear. “You awake?”
Her eyes snapped open in the dark. “Who’s there?”
“Your mistake,” I said, “was to see Jabba as an equal.” I didn’t answer her question directly because in my experience, as soon as people saw me, they stopped listening.
“Explain yourself.” Her tone wasn’t defensive or angry. “And slow down. I can barely understand you.”
Right. I kept on forgetting how slow these big creatures were. I had to slow down my speech by a factor of ten to make my Galactic Basic comprehensible to the average human.
I enunciated each syllable deliberately, dragging my words out. I thought I sounded like a glitchy holo recording that skipped and stuttered, but I couldn’t afford to be impatient. “You wan-der-ed through his pa-la-ce like a thief, but you for-got that he is a great thief. Of course he caught you.”
“That’s a reasonable point,” she said. “What would you have done?”
“A flea can drink the blood of a fathier because the flea is almost invisible to the great beast,” I said.
“Show yourself,” she said. “I like to see who I’m talking to.”
I hopped onto the tip of her nose, ready to leap away if she swatted at me, as I fully expected her to.
She didn’t. Instead, she gazed at me, cross-eyed in the darkness, and smiled.
So that was how one of the most unlikely of alliances, between a mole-flea of Kowak and a princess of the House of Organa, was struck.
She told me about stars that dealt death, about the darkness deeper than space that was the Empire, about the nascent pinpricks of light of the Rebel Alliance, about the grand vision of a free galaxy.
“There will be a seat for everyone in the Senate chamber, no matter their wealth, power, or language,” she declared. “Or size,” she added after a second.
And I imagined colonies of mole-fleas spreading across the galaxy, advising hosts who were generals, senators, moguls, opera singers, perhaps even princesses. I told her of my wish.
“I’m not sure I would be the most suitable host,” she said diplomatically. “If you were living on me, my scalp would get awfully itchy. But…I’m certain we can find you another willing host.”
Mollified, I offered her my aid.
“Luke is coming,” she said. “Give him your aid. He’s our best hope.”
“The illusion-man?” I asked skeptically.
“He’ll grow on you,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “You’ll see.”
“I must be allowed to speak,” the hooded figure said from the shadows. His voice was odd, toneless. The monsters of Jabba’s court stirred uneasily in the murk.
Jabba’s eyes snapped open in the haze above me like Tatooine’s twin suns. A torrent of slimy drool poured out of the cavernous mouth overhead and splashed into the dirty hair atop Salacious, who let out a half-hearted cackle.
It was no time for comedy. I jumped out of the way at the last second and landed on Leia’s shoulder. As Jabba continued to thunder bombastically above me, I scrambled to a perch right below Leia’s right ear.
“He must be allowed to speak,” said Bib Fortuna, the Hutt’s craven majordomo.
There was something wrong with his voice. It sounded even more soulless than usual.
“He’s using an old Jedi mind trick,” roared the Hutt. He tossed Bib Fortuna out of the way.
I was confused. The Jedi were figures of legend, and I never really believed they had magical powers. But it was possible that they knew something about hypnosis—something I had seen street magicians perform for the crowd. Maybe Luke had learned such a trick. I just hoped he didn’t have an overinflated opinion of its efficacy.
Jabba was speaking so slowly that I had enough time to dodge a few more drops of drool, each bigger than I was. How Leia could stand the stench was beyond me.
“You will bring Captain Solo and the Wookiee to me,” said the hooded figure in that same toneless voice. He took a step forward into the light and removed the cowl hiding his face.
Like other humans, he was gigantic—though only in an average sort of way. Also, like all large creatures, his face was pockmarked by imperfections—perfect footholds and handholds if I were to choose to scale the cliff of his cheeks to get to his hair for nesting. Unlike the hologram version, in real life he had a boyish look and a sort of easy confidence that told me right away he was doomed.
“He has no idea what he’s doing, does he?” I whispered into Leia’s ear.
Leia tensed. I could see that she wasn’t sure what Luke was planning, either.
“You sound like a buzzing mosquito,” she hissed. “I can’t understand a thing you’re saying.”
Right. I had forgotten again. “He knows one trick, and he thinks that’s e-nough.” I forced myself to slow down and really articulate. “O-ver-con-fi-dent. He’s ma-king the same mis-take you made.”
Above me came the thunderclaps of Jabba’s roaring laughter, heartier than any Salacious had ever caused. The poor monkey-lizard tried to cackle to support his master’s mirth, but the pitiful noises were drowned out by Jabba’s dominant guffaws.
“Jabba makes his living by devouring forgers, con men, and liars. He knows more mind tricks than anyone.”
By the way Leia’s jaws clenched, I could tell that she understood the trouble Luke was in.
I saw Luke
catch Leia’s gaze, and the glow of confidence went out of his eyes. He looked like a little boy, lost. I felt a wave of pity for him.
Why were members of the large sentient species so foolish? So arrogant? Why were they blind to what was so obvious to me?
Jabba mocked the young Skywalker for his foolhardy nonplan, and as his fetid breath washed over her in waves, Leia flinched. I knew that faith was dying in her heart, as well.
I feared the worst as Luke took another step forward, moving even closer to Leia and Jabba. “Nevertheless, I’m taking Captain Solo and his friends. You can either profit by this or be destroyed.” His expression was determined, as if he fully believed every word he was saying.
Even if he was foolish and overconfident, I admired the fact that he wouldn’t give up. In that, he and Leia were very much alike.
“I told you he’ll grow on you,” said Leia. Her voice was so low that only I could hear her.
“The only thing growing is my confidence that he’s in over his head,” I said, my eyes focused on the spot Luke was standing on. “Don’t you understand what’s happening? Jabba is reeling him in; he’s—”
“Master Luke,” C-3PO, the protocol droid, broke in. “You’re standing on—”
Leia’s own warning as she realized the truth was choked off as Jabba jerked the chain attached to her collar.
“I shall enjoy watching you die,” said Jabba, guffawing.
Confused and desperate, Luke lunged at one of the guards standing next to Bib Fortuna and somehow—to this day, I’m still not sure how he did it—the guard’s blaster flew out of its holster and leapt into Luke’s hand.
Now, I’m sure plenty of people hearing my story will tell you this was proof that Luke had facility with “the Force,” that mysterious, magical power that everyone loves to drone on and on about (“Oh, it pervades the galaxy!” “Oooo, it allowed the Jedi to protect the Republic!” “Ahhhh, it can do anything!”). But the truth is, there’s no such thing as “the Force.” I’m a consummate rationalist, and I believe only what can be seen and touched.
My best working theory is that the guard was another one of Luke’s friends who infiltrated Jabba’s palace; you wouldn’t believe how many of his co-conspirators managed to make their way in there just like Leia. But anyway, I digress.
Here’s what happened next, in the span of about a second:
Luke grabbed the blaster ineptly, as if it were a hot thermal detonator, and—
Before he could even get off a single shot, one of Jabba’s Gamorrean guards grabbed him from behind—
Jabba slammed home the switch that released the trapdoor at the foot of his throne—
There followed a clumsy struggle between the colossal Gamorrean and the gigantic Luke that seemed to last forever—a frustrating scene for a nimble-footed, agile athlete like me to watch—
A bolt shot out of Luke’s blaster and struck the ceiling, setting off a shower of sparks, which I had no trouble dodging since I was so quick, but it did burn Leia’s skin. She gritted her teeth—
Luke fell through the yawning hole in the ground—
Salacious cackled insipidly—
The Gamorrean, his prey having suddenly slipped out of his grasp, lost his balance and held on precariously to the edge of Jabba’s throne—
But that second was plenty of time for a quick mind like mine to work through the implications. Princess Leia was going to lose her champion unless I did something. This was my one and only chance to change the odds in her favor and prove my worth as an ally. Also, since I had always thought of myself as the brains of the partnership between Salacious and me, maybe it was time I proved that I could perform as big as I talked.
Well, maybe big wasn’t quite the right word.
As the Gamorrean teetered precariously above the pit, I made up my mind to go on my quest to save Luke Skywalker. He was a clumsy, foolish, and rash boy, but he was brave and his heart was in the right place.
I leapt from Leia’s shoulder onto the back of the Gamorrean, and as soon as I landed, the porcine beast fell through the trapdoor after Luke.
Salacious cackled maniacally, not yet realizing he had lost the only brain that mattered.
Down, down, down we fell into the darkness.
And abruptly, we emerged into the dank, dim dungeon below Jabba’s throne, where only a few rays managed to filter through the grille in the high ceiling through which Jabba enjoyed watching his victims die.
With an earsplitting screech, the heavy door at the end of the dungeon rose to reveal the horror hidden behind: Jabba’s rancor.
Imagine a creature half of whose body mass is taken up by a massive, cave-like maw filled with stalactites and stalagmites of teeth. Imagine also a pair of powerful arms ending in sharp claws taking up half of the rest. Finally, imagine that this nightmarish creature dwarfed a human as much as Salacious Crumb dwarfed me.
Luke scrambled to his feet, the bravado on his face replaced by helpless terror. The Gamorrean guard I was riding completely forgot about his duty. All he wanted was to climb back up the slick chute through which he had fallen.
You probably think I was so terrified that all I could do was hold on to the Gamorrean and pray to die as quickly as possible.
On the contrary, I had never been so delighted.
Remember, you are thinking at your scale, not mine.
A flea can drink the blood of a fathier because the flea is almost invisible to the great beast.
At my size, the rancor was nothing but a lumbering mountain that was more habitat than threat. If it had tried to bite me, I would have run laps around the gaps between its teeth. If it had tried to step on me, I would have taken a nap in the deep grooves and wrinkles that marred its leathery skin. Long before it could have gotten a chance to see me, much less catch me, I would have leapt onto its back and built a new home in the folds above its oblivious, swimming-pool eyes.
I was ready to show the rancor who was boss.
But no matter how much I shouted in his ear to stop, turn around, and stand his ground, the Gamorrean wouldn’t listen. It was impossible to reason with a Gamorrean—one of many flaws with that species.
So of course the rancor reached down, grabbed him, and swallowed him in a few bites like a juicy frog-fruit.
Above us, Jabba laughed, Salacious cackled, Leia gasped, and Jabba’s monstrous court erupted into raucous jeers.
Five easy hops later, I was on Luke’s shoulder, and one more leap put me next to his ear. He was still backing up, his terrified gaze focused on the looming monster.
The rancor, having finished its Gamorrean snack, turned clumsily to regard Luke.
“Don’t worry,” I said into Luke’s ear. “You’ve got this.”
I had a whole routine prepared to calm the startled youth after hearing a disembodied voice. I was going to jump onto his nose so he could get a good look at me, and I was going to explain to him all about the deal I had made with Princess Leia to help the Rebellion. All he had to do was trust me.
But he didn’t react the way I thought he would at all. After a momentary shiver from being startled, his body immediately relaxed. He squatted down into a fighting stance, and a smile appeared on his face.
Confused, I asked, “Aren’t you going to ask who I am?”
“No,” he said. “I know you’re the spirit of a Jedi, and you’re going to tell me to use the Force.”
Oh, dear me.
Before I could explain, the rancor took a shambling step forward. But instead of running, Luke just stayed there.
“I’m so ready,” he said. “Tell me what to do. Maybe I should use my Jedi mind trick? ‘This is not the food you’re looking for.’ Or how about if I use my air-grab powers and call two of those teeth from its mouth into my hands and then stab them into its eyes? Oh! I know, I should find a rock and toss it right into its throat just so and have it lodge in its gullet so it chokes—”
My whiskers trembled in disbelief, and I slapped my pincers ag
ainst my forehead.
But there was no time to cure the young man of his delusions. “Step back, back!” I shouted into his ear.
He stumbled back a couple of steps. That wasn’t what he was expecting from his ghost Jedi guide, and I could tell by the way he trembled that he was getting nervous.
At least he can follow directions, I thought. Then I realized that this wouldn’t be so bad. I could still make it work. Instead of fighting against his instincts, I had to work with them. If I could manage the vapid Salacious Crumb, surely I could do the same with the overeager Luke.
A quick scan around the distant cave floor from my vantage point gave me a plan.
“Now, reach out with all of your senses, Luke.” It was distasteful to play into superstition, but I had to soothe his nerves and gain his trust. “Let the Force move through you and over you.…Feel how the Force guides you through your…er…scalp….”
I jumped onto the top of his head. Bracing myself by grabbing strands of his hair in each of my pincer hands, I sank my microscopic mouthparts—that would be a pair of epidermis-piercing barbs, six sucking tubes, three stirring tentacles, five regurgitation ducts, and seven feeding agitators—gently into Luke’s skin. No point in going too fast when you bite a host for the first time.
“Wait! I can feel it,” he said, his voice full of awe. “I can feel the Force tickling me in the back of my head!”
Good. Good. I sank my mouthparts deeper. I wasn’t just referring to the fact that my plan was going to work. He actually tasted pretty good.
He turned around; behind us, the rancor had taken another step forward.
“This wasn’t quite how it worked the last time,” he said. “Obi-Wan never made my scalp itch—Ouch!”
I was too far from his ear to make myself heard, so I just pulled my mouth-barbs out, jumped over to his forehead, and sank them into his skin as hard as I could. It was, I imagine, exactly how a jockey got an untamed fathier to behave.
Luke finally understood what I wanted and leapt forward to grab a massive femur bone from one of the rancor’s previous victims off the cave floor. Two quick bites on the back of his head later, he turned around and held up the bone like a club.