Empire Day ✓

Chapter 8 - Pod Races

"Yes, my lord." Piett skittered away to the nearest stormtrooper.

Vader led Luke through the pit area, stopping at a pod that looked vaguely familiar. A crew of beat-up astromech droids worked on the pod's engines while a small Rodian flicked switches, trying to turn the engines over.

A blue Toydarian hovered around the area, striking the juvenile Rodian on the shoulder with a stick. The insect-like creature cursed in Huttese before continuing his tirade in Galactic Basic. "Challu, if you don't get this fixed right now, you are going to lose your practice laps. If you lose this race, we are ruined. I have barely stayed afloat after your last cra—"

Vader stretched forth his hand, giving the Toydarian a gentle warning squeeze around his neck. "Sa ya do Hodrudda, Watto?" Vader asked in Huttese.

The Toydarian's eyes bulged as he turned his gaze to the Sith Lord. His voice trembled. His wings fluttered. "No, Lord Vader. Nothing to disturb you."

Vader looked at Luke, his eyes upset. He could feel Luke's compassion for this creature. With shame, he felt his son's disgust at his methods.

As Vader released the man, a deep rumbling laugh emanated from behind him. The Sith Lord turned his attention to the source of that laugh, finding a gigantic slug-like Hutt blocking the avenue between the pods.

The large slug boomed, "Conche, Talkdroid."

A silver protocol droid waddled forward. "Yes, your supreme excellency."

The Hutt ordered something in Huttese, to which the protocol droid promptly turned to Lord Vader and said, "The Great Jabba the Hutt—"

Vader raised his hand, silencing the droid. "Noah keata. Achuta, Jabba."

Jabba said in Huttese, "Lord Vader. I am honored by your visit. I hope we can both be reasonable here. I'm sure the Empire would not want an entire system rebelling because of a small . . ." He waved his miniscule hand at the arena. ". . . entertainment venture."

Vader crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I think we can come to a profitable understanding for all involved."

The slug laughed. "And what does the Empire desire?"

"An end to slavery in this system, immediately."

"You ask the impossible. It would destroy our economy."

"It would be a shame if I had to leave a garrison here, permanently. Tatooine would make an excellent maximum-security prison." Vader tilted his head.

"I will issue the decree tomorrow."

Vader stepped forward, clenching an invisible hand around the corpulent slug. "You will issue it today at the end of the race."

The slug's eyes widened, and his large tongue flapped. "Yes, Lord Vader."

Vader released him. "There, I knew we could come to an agreeable solution. Now, if you'll excuse me, my s—apprentice and I would like to view the races from that box. Clear it." The Sith Lord pointed to a circular box on a pole in the middle of the arena with an hydraulic lift.

"Of course, Lord Vader." The slug slithered away from Vader, speaking earnestly to his majordomo, a Twi'lek named Bib Fortuna.

One of the aide's long, green lekku was draped around his neck like a scarf, while the other hung loosely at his back. The man clenched his fingers, his pointed fingernails biting into his palm, as Jabba approached. When he smiled, ravenous teeth brushed his scabrous lips.