Like Herding Nexu
By Andrew J Talon
Yavin IV
Rotta didn't want to be ungrateful. He absolutely would not, could not, be so.
Behind her bluster and anger, he could sense the sympathy Miss Jade felt for him as he got her out of his grandfather's palace. How much she felt for him, and so he had pushed himself as hard as he could to get through.
He'd never felt anyone feel that for him. That he was worth something. Not since his father...
Well. His father had stopped feeling that way for him a long time ago.
Master Luke had been the same. Oh certainly, he had much stronger shields than Mara around his feelings, but Rotta still picked up how genuine they were. His dream was to restore the Jedi Order, and to return good to the galaxy. To make it so that people like Rotta had someone to fight for them, to help them.
And in the personal... Luke saw himself in this young Hutt. Whose father had tried to murder him, his friends, and enslave his sister. A child with nowhere to go but to try and understand make use of this gift. One who had potential.
Tears had comes to his eyes when he was alone in his room on his ship. His ship. Miss Jade had given it to him, said he should have something to call his own. She had played it off as her not needing it, that it was a piece of junk, and yet...
Yet she too saw him as worth something more. Not as a pawn or a bargaining chip. Not as a thing. But as a being.
That first night at the Jedi Temple, Rotta had sworn, had promised, he wouldn't let them down. He couldn't.
He couldn't bear to think of that feeling they had in him dying.
Like with...
"Focus, Rotta."
"Ah, r-right."
Rotta was tired, and distracted. He still held up his lightsaber, as Kam Solusar held up his own. The former Inquisitor had constructed a new one, with a gently curved guard around the hilt and a blade that burned a bright yellow. Rotta's own saber had a bigger hilt, and a longer blade that burned green. He had chosen it because it was the color Luke chose, and in a strange way, it just felt... Right.
Kam feinted for Rotta's head, then thrust for the young Hutt's stomach. Rotta twisted the lightsaber in his hands, parrying the strike as he slithered backward with some difficulty.
"One, two, three," Kam coached, striking Rotta and forcing him to defend, "one, two, three-Focus Rotta-one, two, three-"
"Urgh! Nngh!"
Rotta and Kam had been at this for hours. Even as he tried to focus on the Force, his hands and arms ached from how much effort he put into their movements. While they had grown muscular, like the rest of him, during his training as a Jedi, they still struggled to keep up with the pace of the duel.
"One, two, three-"
Kam thrust at just the right time. Rotta saw it coming and tried to twist the saber to deflect-
The lightsaber seemed to fly right out of his hands and clattered to the grass of the training field. Rotta stared down at the blade now pointed in his face. Rotta looked up at Kam, who withdrew the lightsaber.
"You're terrible at this," Kam said, as though talking about the weather.
There was no cruelty in his voice or in his emotions, just plain fact... Which made Rotta's tears feel all the more humiliating.
Kam started as what was effectively a Hutt teenager began to sniffle in front of him.
"Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"N-No... No... You're right," Rotta mumbled, "I am terrible."
He glared at his arms. His stupid, stubby, clumsy little arms!
Every time, every time...!
"You're useless! You're weak! You'll never be my heir!"
"F-Father, please-"
"You're not even my son anymore! You pathetic WORM!"
Rotta felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn't look up. He knew it was Kam.
"It's not for lack of trying," Kam said gently, "You work very hard-"
"But it doesn't matter when I can't move the saber like you all can!" Rotta spat. The Hutt turned and slithered off into the woods. He was going to cry alone. Or meditate. Whatever.
Kam jogged alongside him.
"Wait. I'm going to look into something."
"Huh? What?"
Kam hummed.
"A lot of my memories are still hazy, but..." He shook his head. "I'll be back soon."
"But-!"
Kam ran off towards the temple hangars. Rotta sighed and bowed his head.
He was exhausted anyway, the sun was going down. Maybe he'd feel better with a good night's sleep.
His prodigious stomach rumbled. Rotta sighed.
"After dinner..."
Rotta did have moods. Everyone noticed them. Master Luke asked if he was all right. Rotta just said he didn't want to talk about it.
Master Luke nodded and didn't pester him for the rest of the night. He was concerned but didn't pry.
Lop of course tried to cheer him up with her dancing about. Tionne put some extra effort into her singing, paying him concerned glances. Even Mara talked about fixing up the Idiot's Array with parts from the Smuggler's Alliance. Kyle even offered to go hunting with him.
He just said no, and sullenly devoured his meal. He slithered to bed the moment he could and slept.
This part was always the worst. He had no end of material for bad dreams, and they always came the same way. No matter what he did, Rotta couldn't avoid them. They just always hurt the same.
Rotta trembled, holding the electropike in his hands. He looked down at the rancor, held by chains and snarling weakly at him. His father was next to him, as was the trainer for the creature.
"Go on, son," Jabba boomed, "It must fear you to obey you. Do it!"
Rotta slithered forward, scared of the beast. Even restrained it was so fearsome... He thrust the pike into the monster's face!
It howled, and suddenly Rotta's forehead was burning in agony! He drew back, as though he had been shocked. The pike fell from his hands, clattering onto the stone floor.
"My son?" His father boomed. But the noise fell away as suddenly, a rush of memories hit him. Alien feelings.
He could feel fear, anger, helplessness. The weight of being a captive, trapped and bored and waiting for food to fall screaming to him. The desperate fight against a krayt dragon, the feeling of blood draining out of him as he fought desperately for the slightest hope of life...!
The affection and bond with the trainer. How much it hurt to see him suffer as the rancor suffered...
I'm... I'm the rancor? Rotta realized.
He felt the pike handle pressed against him. He turned and saw his father. He felt the anger and disappointment, building up...
"Pick it up. Make it fear you," this father ordered. Rotta took up the pike in shaky hands-Such weak hands. He turned and looked into the rancor's eyes.
The feelings wouldn't go away. The feelings wouldn't stop...!
"I... I can't..." Rotta sniffled, tears falling, "I... I can feel his pain...!"
He turned to his father. He had hoped for some sympathy, some understanding.
Anything but the pit of cold, dark disgust and anger in him.
"I see... You are weak," Jabba sneered. "Guards! Take him to the dungeons!"
"F-Father?!" Rotta gasped.
"You don't get to call me that anymore, weakling," Jabba growled, "You're not my child! You're a freak! GET HIM OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
His entire galaxy just shattered in that moment...
"Mmph... Mmrph..."
He slowly opened his eyes. He sat up slowly, blinking his large eyes. Someone was knocking on the Idiot's Array's hatch-Kam, he sensed. He pulled his covers off, yawned, and slithered to the hatch. It opened up, and he slithered down to the hangar deck.
Kam stood there with a smile. And next to him was-
"Kam? Miss Sabine?" He asked, confused. He was still groggy and it was hard to focus.
"Hello Rotta, sorry it took me longer than I thought," Kam said, as he held a long plastic box. He nodded to Sabine. "I needed her help to fix it up, too."
"I just got it done, but I wanted to see you take it," Sabine said cheerfully.
Rotta blinked. They felt... Expectant. He took the box, and opened it. He blinked as he removed the long, gray, and metallic staff.
"Er... What is it?" He asked.
"It's a beskar metal lightstaff attachment," Kam explained, "It was left in an Inquisitor hideout I knew of. I brought it back and asked Sabine to fix it up. Here..."
He took the staff, and held out his hand. Rotta summoned his lightsaber, and handed it over to Kam. Kam very carefully slid the lightsaber into the open top of the metal tube, and twisted it to lock it in. He handed it back to Rotta, who took it in both hands.
"Over here."
Rotta followed Kam over to an open spot in the hangar floor. Sabine, still heavily pregnant, backed off to a safe distance to watch. Rotta activated the saber, and the green beam burned a bit further away from him. Kam ignited his own saber, set for training mode. He then saluted, a Makashi standard, and struck!
"One, two, three-"
Rotta modified a Shii-Cho parry move with his longer reach, and then deflected the next strike, and the next!
"One, two, three-!"
The next series of attacks came much faster, but the longer reach let Rotta take more initiative. He pivoted the lightstaff in his hands, adapting the Forms he had learned to take advantage of the staff.
Kam moved around to strike him from the flank, but Rotta swept wide with the stave. Kam darted forward to exploit the hole in his defense, but Rotta pivoted the stave! The blunt end deflected the blade away (though it took some burns), and Kam was forced back when Rotta swung the blade back for him!
Kam smiled broadly, and the pride in his Force signature was like winds underneath the wings of a hawkbat in Rotta's soul.
"I realize that most Hutts have fought with polearms, rather than sword-like weapons," he said, "Good reason for that."
"I... Wow..."
"You're going to have to train a bit harder to get used to it," Kam pointed out, "You don't want to get caught like I almost got you. Also, the beskar isn't invincible either, you have to be careful. But you-"
Rotta then outright hugged Kam tightly. Kam blinked, still stiff.
"Er-"
"Th-Thank you, Mister Solusar!" Rotta blubbered.
"Ah..." He glanced over at Sabine. The Mandalorian woman smiled and mouthed something to him.
"You're... Welcome," he said in an awkward tone, and with an awkward pat. But his feelings were absolutely genuine.
Rotta knew. And he was very happy to know that was the case.