Jabba's Celebration

The Mos Espa Grand Arena exploded with a chorus of manic screams as the Podracers shot across the sandy plains at incredible speeds, kicking up thick clouds of dust as they twisted around the final turn.

The brightly-painted vehicles shot through the canyons at death-defying speeds, traveling as fast as their repulsor-lifts would carry them, colliding and barging into one another as they approached the finish line. The spectators rose to their feet in anticipation, crying out and cheering as the trio leading what remained of the original starting pack battled for pole position.

As the pilots entered the final stretch, they became far more risky in their approach, taking heavy swings at one another with their heavy engines, trying to force their rivals to lose control and slam into the hazards that littered the terrain. Predictably, one unfortunate pilot was delivered a blow that ruptured one of his already compromised engines and sent him into an aimless spiral, leaving behind a trail of billowing black smoke as he sideswiped one of the walls surrounding the grandstands. The fuel tanks ignited and sprayed the surrounding area with liquid fire, and the pilot's cockpit only came to a stop when it slammed into one of the supporting pillars and toppled it. The deadly scene only served to further incite the crowds, who barely took notice of the victor as he crossed the finish line. Instead, they chose to observe the DUM pit droids as they scrambled to contain the chaotic scene, a task only made more difficult when the Pod's secondary fuel system detonated and sent the mono-eyed droids flying.

Sebulba put on a cocky display as he hovered past the finish line and claimed yet another title, slowing down just enough to snatch his banner from his pit crew, riding along the length of the grandstands with his flag flapping wildly behind him. He was met by a chorus of boos and celebratory acclaim, disappearing under a blanket of confetti and streamers that showered down to the dusty ground below. Those pilots who were unfortunate enough to have crashed out of the race early on -- but fortunate enough to have survived at all -- moved as fast as possible to gather up the functional components of the decimated racing machines, doing so before the salvage droids cleared the track.

The corpulent Jabba Desilijic Tiure watched on with a frighteningly wide grin, tearing the head off of one of the paddy frogs he grabbed from his snackaquarium, spitting it at the ayalayli thornwood gong off to his side. It was one of the most exhilarating Boonta Eve Classics in years, exceeding the wildest expectations of the organizers who had spent months putting it all together. It started and ended in explosive fashion.

It acted as the bookend for the week's worth of festivities, casting a favorable light on Jabba in front of his wealthy and influential peers, especially his fellow Hutts.

Jabba slithered out of the opulent spectator's box and onto the balcony, basking in the thunderous applause he was met with. He offered his audience a grandiose wave in response, giving the winner of the legendary competition an approving nod.

He was flanked by a pair of newly-acquired Rutian Twi'lek twins, Lysha and Mawi, both of whom were clad in sheer white dancing costumes that left more skin on display than they covered. The pair waved a set of Pelikki feather fans up and down, cooling their master's bloated form.

Jabba raised his stubby arms, announcing the end to the annual event in his typically bombastic manner, enjoying the sheer level of attention he commanded as silence fell. No one dared to interrupt him, only applauding and cheering when they were given the order to do so. Sebulba received his share of the limelight, as did the syndicates and sponsors responsible for bankrolling him.

Although most in attendance were swept up in the excitement of the moment, one figure looked on with a distinct lack of enthusiasm in her golden-brown eyes, stepping forth from the conditioned spectator's deck to take her place at the side of the crimelord.

Leia glanced down imperiously at the braying crowds, concealing her disgust at the callous joy they displayed following the carnage and death they had all witnessed. Not a year went by where she didn't feel uncomfortable with the pleasure the vast crowds derived from the bloodsport, but time had certainly helped to dull her unease.

Wherever her eyes turned, Leia could see the signs of death and destruction, spotting the rolling clouds of smoke pouring from the distant sections of the circuit. Medical units were dispatched, but it was highly unlikely that they would find any survivors. It had once sickened Leia to witness how little regard there was for sentient life in the Outer Rim, but such scenes had become so commonplace in her life that apathy eventually set in.

Standing out on the balcony, the twenty-seven year old could feel countless eyes turn in her direction, staring with with raw desire. Leia had grown used to such looks, a consequence of having spent almost four years of her life as the most favored slave to the gluttonous Hutt, a trophy that rarely left his side. Memories of the fateful day in the Dune Sea that saw her former life come to a screeching end plagued her, but they all paled in comparison to the ravagement that came that very evening. Over time, she taught herself to dilute such thoughts, locking her emotions away in a vault of her own making. It took almost a year for the Hutt to snuff out what hope of escape she still held onto, chipping away at her resolve with a level of efficiency only a being with centuries of experience could achieve.

Glancing up at the massive holo-screens that ran along the amphitheater, Leia hid a scowl behind a perfect mask when the lens of the cam droids landed on both Jabba and herself, standing side by side for all to witness. Her Lashaa silk skirts, Jerba leather boots, and bronzium bikini had long been discarded. Instead, she wore a resplendent gold auropyle gown that twinkled under the glare of the oppressive sunlight, sheer to the point of near transparency, leaving only the most intimate parts of her body concealed, exclusive for her master's eyes alone. However, a small oval-shaped section had been deliberately cut out below her navel, designed to expose the small blazing red tattoo of the Deslijic clan that branded her porcelain skin just above her womanhood. A pair of six-inch, gold mirror-effect heels added to her shorter frame, elongating her sculpted legs and enhancing her posture, much to the delight of Jabba.

As always, Leia's chestnut hair was expertly styled, twisted and curled to form an elaborate coif. The elaborate style had been achieved by pinning her flowing tresses in place with a white gold tiara that glimmered in the glow of the twin suns, a relic of the ancient Alderaanian royal family that Jabba had acquired for a considerable sum. But in his uniquely cruel fashion, the white diamonds that once occupied the tiara's settings had been extracted and sold off to interested collectors willing to pay handsomely for a piece of Alderaanian history. They were replaced by precious gems native to Nal Hutta, mocking her former royal status and symbolizing her new life of subservience. To add insult to injury, a semi-transparent gold veil fell across the bottom-half of her face, leaving only her vibrant brown eyes exposed, ensuring that only her master could gaze upon her beauty in its entirety.

The only remaining feature of her original costume was the gold Thalassian slave collar that hadn't been removed from her neck since the day it was locked around it. Yet the chain that once physically bound her to the Hutt was noticeably absent. It was no longer required, not for a woman who knew there could be no escape for a Hutt's favorite.

She couldn't have appeared more out of place if she honestly tried. Leia exuded elegance, standing tall with her head held high, offering polite applause after every pause the Hutt made during his speech. Her skin was impossibly pale in spite of Tatooine's scorching climate, a consequence of Jabba going out of his way to keep her out of the sun to maintain her milky complexion. There was a stoicism about her, an unusual trait for a member of Jabba's much-coveted harem. Even after everything Jabba had subjected her to, Leia retained a sliver of pride in spite of her substantial fall from grace. Her lascivious appearance didn't lessen her regal presence, making it all too obvious why she was the crown jewel of Jabba's ever expanding criminal empire.

"And that brings a close to this year's Boonta Eve. Let us just hope that the next will exceed our high expectations!" Jabba proclaimed in Huttese, sending a not-so thinly veiled warning to the organizers, already setting the standards for the following year. Clearing a small space on the balcony, he urged Leia to step forth, displaying his most cherished prize as she stepped in front of the vocoder, enjoying the jealousy he found in the eyes of the spectators as his most prized possession stood before them.

"My Illustrious Master, Daimyo of Tatooine, extends his gratitude for your participation in this year's Boonta Eve," Leia's cultured, sonorous voice carried across the arena, speaking in perfect, unbroken Huttese. It became rare for her to speak using Basic unless the occassion demanded it. She clasped her hands together, holding her nerve as she briefly took center stage on behalf of the Hutt, ignoring the glaring shine of her golden collar. "Additionally, he wishes for me to extend his hopes of a safe journey for those of you who have traveled from the farthest reaches of the galaxy. May your credits flow freely, and your debtors pay what they owe."

Jabba gave a nod of his plump head and beamed as he departed the balcony, wriggling his sizable bulk over to his nephews, stretching his arms wide as they celebrated. They engaged in a rapid discussion regarding a number of potential trade deals, boasting about how their respective fortunes had grown during the time since their last meeting.

Leia dutifully followed him, with a silk train connected to her shoulders being carried by Lysha and Mawi. Though it wasn't her place to do so, she listened in on the conversation. She was fluent enough in Huttese to understand them as they negotiated over the cost of shipments of spice and glitterstim, expanding their lucrative ventures well beyond the boundaries of Tatooine and Hutt space. She couldn't help but listen, a habit that still remained from her time as a member of the Apprentice Legislature Program, a period in her life that seemed so long ago.

"Ahhh, and this must be your favored concubine," Paers Desilijic Tiure boomed with an ugly grin, which he shared with his brother Sabar. Both had patterns running across their bodies that were noticeably similar to Jabba's, but their younger ages gave made their complexion a few shades lighter. "The former crown princess of Alderaan, heir to Queen Breha's throne. Never did I think a member of our species would be so fortunate enough to lay claim to true royalty, especially one as mouth-watering as this one."

"The gods smiled upon me the day she walked into my palace, I'm certain that it was fate that drew her to me that day," Jabba's maw stretched into a avaricious grin, turning his head to gaze upon his most prized possession. He wrapped his leathery hand around her waist to draw him into his embrace, which she returned without a moment of hesitation, pressing her body into his blubbery form. "She had a fiery spirit, I can tell you that. I agonized over the thought of her having to suffer the same fate as the lovely Oola. But after that day at the Great Pit of Carkoon, it became easy to reshape her, grief making her vulnerable. It took time and patience, but she surrendered in the end. Isn't that right, Leia-Sul?"

"Every word of it, Master," Leia bowed her head, feeling three pairs of slitted eyes scrutinizing her every subtle movement, clearly impressed by the submissiveness they saw her express. "I will always commemorate the day I came to understand your might and glory. The day I truly became your Leia-Sul."

"Incredible," Sabar said, eyeing Leia as though she were no different to a prized piece of property, as did every other Hutt she had encountered in the years following her enslavement. The rings covering his fingers clinked when he snatched a roasted Womprat leg from a passing waiter droid, easily ripping the meat off with a single bite. "I remember seeing her on the holo-feed back before Alderaan was turned to dust, dressed in that ivory gown. I always found those long-winded discussions in the Senate to be so painfully dull, but not when the lovely princess here stood to speak. So defiant. So confident. So deliciously untouchable. But no longer."

"If this doesn't secure our clan's legacy, I don't know what will," Paers nodded, turning his orange tinged eyes back to Jabba. "Speaking of legacies, have you put any consideration into planting a Huttlet in her? It should go without saying that Rotta has been a disappointment, lacking that grit that one needs to make it in this clan. You need an heir, one that will be worthy to lead the Desilijic clan into a new age, just as you have done. As did Zorba before you. I can think of no one better suited to produce a worthy heir than your precious Leia-Sul."

"Ho-ho-ho, the thought had crossed my mind," Jabba admitted, running his thick fingers across Leia's stomach, his twitching tail thumped against the ground. "As I understand it, our offspring would have a rightful claim to Alderaan's titles and assets. At least, whatever remains of them."

"And its surviving women," Paers added, salivating at the thought. "There's a colony world in the Mid Rim that was founded by a large group of Alderaanian refugees. If you make an honest woman of Leia-Sul here, then the Desilijic Tiure clan would be within its right to assert its authority over the planet and its inhabitants. Alderaanian women are the most attractive females in the galaxy, worthy of any Hutt's harem."

"If it's for the good of the clan, then who am I to say no?" Jabba shook with laughter.

"Perhaps tonight could be the night? I don't know about you, but that race has gotten my blood pumping, I think I might try and exert some of this excess energy on my own pet." Sabar scratched his multiple chin rolls thoughtfully, eyeing up Sarra Mil, the scantily-clad Pantoran Leia had spent much of the race conversing with, who happened to be as equally indifferent to the deadly race as she was. "I hope you won't mind if I borrow a private room back at your palace."

"What's mine is yours," Jabba replied. "Within reason."

"So? Will you go through with it?" Paers asked, eyeing Leia.

"I might have to give that suggestion some serious thought," Jabba said, giving Leia a look that sent a sense of dread she hadn't felt in almost four years. "How long do you both intend to remain?"

"We have business that needs dealing with in Mos Espa tomorrow," Paers explained, holding out a holoprojector to Jabba, grimacing as the shimmering blue image of a Weequay appeared. "This sleemo and his gang have been attacking my cargo cruisers during their return flights from Kessel, I've lost three shipments this week alone, and I have this feeling in my gut that he's going to make a move against the next one. I need a bounty hunter, one that can put these karking pirates down for good. The ones I've hired so far have been returned to me in more than one piece."

"Mos Espa? You'll find nothing there other than has-beens and drunken washouts, nothing that will get the job done. The likes of Cad Bane are long gone I'm afraid. When we return to my palace I will have my men check who we have on the payroll, I only spend my peggats on the best. If you don't find the right man for the task there, then there simply isn't one to be found. Also, you'll get a taste of my harem's hospitality," the trio shared in booming laughter.

Leia stopped listening shortly after that, zoning out to a point where the sights and sounds around her merged together and faded into the background. Jabba's words played over and over in her mind, and a pit of fear opened within her. She had become Jabba's personal plaything, catering to his every need and want, feeding and pleasuring the beast with an insatiable appetite. Her freedom was gone, even her native language had been forcibly substituted for the coarse mother tongue of the Hutts. As tragic as her situation was, she still believed the day would come when she could regain her freedom and seek out the Rebel Alliance.

But pregnancy was definitive, something she could never come back from. If the promise Jabba made to Paers and Sabar was his true intention, it would be the final blow to what remained of her hope.

"Leia-Sul. Come, it's time to return to the palace," Jabba said. He snatched a chalice of wine from a violet-skinned Togruta serving girl, fondling her sizeable breasts in the process. "The real festivities have yet to begin."

~•~•~•~•~•~

The return to the palace had been far quicker than usual, with the sail barge having taken the shortest route back through the mountainous dunes. The celebrations continued long into the night, with Jabba's guests and courtiers enjoying the fruits of another successful festival, indulging in their every desire with the members of the harem that Jabba made available to them.

Only the lowest ranking harem girls were made available to the Hutt's loyalists, girls who Jabba had purchased from his business partners or acquired in lieu of a debt payment. Courtesans were brought in from the brothels Jabba owned and operated to keep up with the relentless demands of the drunk and drug-addled guests. They flirted with the surviving pilots and investors who were in attendance, shedding their flimsy garments as they led the men away for an evening of utter pleasure.

Meanwhile, Leia stood next to the open shutters, gazing at the the twin suns as they disappeared beyond the horizon, casting a stunning orange glow across the sandy terrain. The stars twinkled and cut through the night sky, offering Leia her only view of a life that existed beyond Tatooine.

Leia often wondered if Luke had ever felt the same way as she did whenever she stared up at the sky, dreaming of the day when he could find a way of escaping the desolate planet. But whereas Luke dreamed of exploration, Leia dreamed of liberation.

Once the Ubrikkian barge sailed back into the cupola, returning to the palace's gargantuan hangar, the celebrations moved into the subterranean throne room. The music of Max Rebo and his trio of back-up singers set the mood and provided the party with a seductive atmosphere. Sabar had already disappeared into the guest rooms that had been set aside for him, taking Sarra with him.

Leia quickly found herself missing the company of the Pantoran, a woman who had once served as an emissary for her world before her convoy was intercepted by a mob of slavers during a journey back from Coruscant. Speaking to Sarra was the closest Leia had come to being reminded of her former life.

Turning her head, Leia noticed Paers groping a human with platinum hair and the most vivid blue eyes, wearing a glittery blue mini-dress and clear plastex platform heels. It was Kalir Stather, the wife of a local moisture farmer who had failed to keep up with his debt repayments to Jabba. When it became clear that there was no conceivable way for her husband to repay the debt plus interest incurred, Jabba ordered his goons to have Kalir collared and brought to 'Love Under the Twin Suns', one of the largest brothels in Mos Espa.

For the last six months, Kalir had resided at the brothel, working night and day to pay off the debt. Now, she was expected to let a Hutt take her to bed, no doubt due to Jabba promising her that he would strike off a sizeable lump from her family's debt. Paers wrapped an arm around Kalir's shoulders and guided her towards one of the available guest rooms. Leia could tell that the young wife was terribly nervous, and she didn't blame her. Nothing could sufficiently prepare someone to be rutted by a Hutt. All Leia could do was give Kalir her warmest smile, trusting that any act of kindness would enable Kalir to make it through the ordeal.