"Go. You don't
come back. l make Jabba thinking that you be dead." Yellow eyes
glint in the harsh sunlight on the dunes of Tatooine, locking onto
much softer green. "Bib, come with us. We can blow this
planet and head somewhere nicer, just the three of us. I've heard
such wonderful stories about Naboo…" Though the same race and
gender, the younger Twi'lek is lovlier than Bib in every sense. A
lithe purple hand reaches out, but Bib Fortuna slaps it away. "No. You go and do something other. If I seeing you again ever, I
His pale purple skin shone with light sweat in the moonlight shining through the small, dirty window of the dumpy inn room he shared with his twin sister. He kept having the same dream, night after night, and each time it seemed more intense, frightening even. He reached over to the chair near his bed and grabbed the tunic he'd worn the previous day, wiping his forehead off before falling back onto his pillow, kicking his blankets off. He was burning up now, even though the nights on Tatooine could be strangely chilly.
L'lora'ti stole a glance at his sister, who slept soundly in the twin bed opposite his own. He rolled his eyes. He'd never seen someone sleep quite the way she did. She had shifted in her sleep so that her head was at the foot of her bed, her limbs akimbo, and a small puddle of drool trickling from the corner of her mouth in the shape of what appeared to be a small Bantha.
"For such a pretty girl, you sure do look disgusting when you're asleep," he said, laughing a little. He got up and lifted her, repositioning her on her bed so that her head was back on the pillow. She cooed affectionately at him and burrowed into her blankets, never once opening her eyes. He crawled back into his bed and lied down, looking over at Ni'kata again. "I'm worried about tomorrow. It's our first big performance."
"We've danced our whole life," she said, not moving. "But now we're not in chains."
"We don't have anyone to save our dignity now, though," he said. "Jabba liked us, for the most part. He wouldn't let anyone pick on us."
"Bib wouldn't let anyone pick on us, you mean," Ni'kata said, her eyes opened now. "How many people went missing after disapproving of us? We weren't like the other Twi'lek slaves."
This was true, L'lora'ti thought. Lyn Me, the snobbish dancer in the Max Rebo band, looked down on the slaves. She herself was not in chains and had free reign, and so Oolah, L'lora'ti, and Ni'kata were seen as lesser beings.
Like Oolah, they had no desire to be there. As much as they disliked life in the palace, it was their lives, and they had managed to survive on a day-to-day basis. When the girl was brought in, they watched her dully as she screamed and begged to be released, exclaiming in the native Twi'lek language of Ryl that she had been deceived. She found no pity from the twins, who had been there since before they could walk.
Unlike Oolah, the twins never complained. They danced with smiles on their faces, communed with Jabba's guests, and were often rewarded by sharing private meals with a VIP. More than once Ni'kata found herself a giggling mess in front of Boba Fett, who hadn't said a word to her in all the years she'd seen him around the palace.
They were "good slaves," but when Ni'kata's best friend, a young Rodian dancer called Adesre, was dropped to the Rancor, everything changed. As Adesre screamed, Ni'kata launched herself at Jabba in a fit of rage, screaming and tearing at him. She might have injured the Hutt, too, if Bib hadn't pulled her off and held her back. After a few moments deliberation, Jabba decided that the Rancor pit might also be a good place for Ni'kata, and L'lora'ti shouted against Jabba, calling him a rather rude collection of names. As Jabba reached for their chains, Bib interrupted.
"They are my responsibility, as they have always been," he said in Huttese, the only language he was permitted to speak. "I should like to deal with them in my own manner."
Jabba regarded Bib carefully, but the Twi'lek showed no signs of treachery. He nodded and agreed. "It could be days until the Rancor is hungry again, and I don't care to listen to them cry all night. Very well, Bib, do away with them."
Bib seized the younger Twi'leks by the upper arm and dragged them outside. Once out, he switched to the native Twi'lek language of Ryl. "A fine mess you've made. And I'm a fool for trying to clean it up!" He shoved them both forward and leered coldly at them. They hadn't understood him. The twins, having been born into slavery on Tatooine, were never taught to speak Ryl. Ni'kata was still crying, her eyes wild, searching for something to focus on besides the castle. L'lora'ti looked ill. He was pale, shivering despite the heat, and casting a guilty stare at Bib. Bib refused to be softened. He switched to Basic, which he didn't speak particularly well. "You getting in speeder now." He pointed to a vehicle a few yards away.
L'lora'ti took his sister's hand and pulled her to the speeder, putting a supportive arm around her once they were seated. He whispered softly to her, desperate to comfort her, terrified that Bib would bring them away to execute them. He was shocked when Bib stopped the speeder outside of a city, ordering them out. "Go. You don't come back. I make Jabba thinking you be dead." His Basic was pitiful, but his face spooked the two Twi'lek youths.
"Bib, come with us," L'lora'ti said quietly, a tremor in his voice. He knew that Bib hated it with Jabba too, but the likelihood of the Majordomo leaving was slim. Jabba treated him as a possession, and would be angry if a possession as important as Bib should go missing. Still, he tried. "We can blow this planet and head somewhere nicer, just the three of us. I've heard such wonderful stories about Naboo…" He reached out to Bib, his hand trembling.
Bib slapped his hand away, frowning. "No. You go and do something other." His gaze softened momentarily when he looked at the twins, but he was careful to pull himself back together quickly, lest they notice. "If I seeing you again ever…" He paused for emphasis. "I will kill you."
He turned and left them, his dark, elegant gown catching the wind too dramatically. He returned the vehicle, turning to glance one last time over his shoulder at L'lora'ti. The younger Twi'lek frowned, opening his mouth to protest Bib leaving one last time, but Bib had already put the speeder into gear and was tearing off across the sands.
When L'lora'ti went to bed that night, the dreams started.