"The Huttese language has seventeen words for 'Revenge.'"

Four months ago ...

Mas Heddebbi moved through the dim and shabby interior of Rabblo the Hutt's fortress-home with easy familiarity. It had been almost two months since the green-skinned twi'lek had left on his debt collection tour of the mining and smelting outposts around the planet, and he was more than happy to be back in what passed for civilization on Ranjahr.

The new Imperial garrison, with all of its sophisticated communications gear, as well as the remaining separatist guerillas, had made direct communication between the outlying settlements and Ranjahr City risky, and Mas had spent almost the entire trip completely incommunicado. This had been inconvenient, yes, but it has also been painful, as he had not so much as heard Rilina's voice the entire time he'd been away.

He longed to see her, to hold her ... He hoped to get his audience with Rabblo over quickly.

As he entered the audience chamber, however, he knew something was not right. The normal din of the place was totally absent. The eyes of the assembled crowd turned toward him almost as one, sharing an expectant, predatory gleam he had seen many times before. Like a pack of wild othkla, they were waiting for their alpha to make a kill, so that they all might feed. A terrible cold knot formed in Mas's stomach as he realized that the prey they waited for today was twi'lek.

With a great effort of will, he did not pause or even slow his approach.

Rabblo himself was sprawled in his accustomed place on the enormous couch that served as the focus of the room. He exhaled a great cloud of smoke as he looked up, and tossed the hose of his hookah aside as Mas approached.

"Mas, mi bukki! Ba rundi gam saya beduni!" Rabblo greeted him, his face alight with a strangely buoyant glee.

"Thank you, Master," the Twi'lek greeted the Hutt, bowing low. "It is good to be back. I am glad to find you well, and pleased to deliver your tribute from the outer territories." He presented the ledger tallying all of the bribes, kickbacks, and protection money he'd collected on his trip and placed it at the base of Rabblo's platform, where it was quickly snatched up by Gan Mand, Rabblo's nikto accountant.

The Hutt chuckled.

"None too soon, that," Mand grunted. "Finances have been unexpectedly tight these past few cycles."

A soft sussurrus of amusement drifted through the crowd. Mas ignored it.

"Finances, Master?" he asked coolly. "I hope nothing is amiss."

The Hutt leaned forward, poorly suppressing a leer.

"Intoodi," the hulking crimelord nodded, his entire form rippling with the motion. "Darown na gifti, te nono." A shortfall in collections, it would seem.

Mas's face showed only troubled concern, despite his near panic

"Dede frasse ma stu kama awassi, do protti," the Hutt continued. I was forced to take steps to improve my cash flow, sell some assets. Mas nodded. "I hope that the issue has been resolved to your satisfaction, Master."

More laughter from the crowd brought a self-satisfied grin to the Hutt's gaping maw.

"Abunti, abunti," Rabblo nodded again. "Le do noli ma twi'lek besse...?" he looked questioningly at Mand.

"Rilina, Master," the nikto reminded him, his lip curling slightly as he glanced toward Mas.

"Rilina, ya," the Hutt agreed. Rilina.

Mas nodded slowly. "I believe so," he said calmly. "She is the lethan girl, no? The singer?" The only thing that mattered to him.

Rabblo nodded, his pupils narrowing as he regarded Mas.

"Lethi baran muthi ta creddi, zi lesse nadungi hutt," he gurgled.

As a red-skinned -- or lethan -- twi'lek, Rilina was among the rarest examples of the race ... and the most prized by the Hutts.

"Yes, Master," Mas agreed. "They are thought by many to be the most attractive of our race."

The hut grinned, his thick tongue rolling across his lips. He looked around the room, savoring what he thought was his private joke with the crowd before returning to Mas.

"Mi brundi Jabba anawingi be lethi," he said. His "cousin" Jabba had long wished for a pretty lethan.

Jabba the Hutt.

Mas nodded politely.

Jabba the Hutt, whose slaves were lucky if they died quickly. The bogeyman of the Outer Rim.

"Dese credi unu bonti," Rabblo informed him.

Mas breathed once and swallowed. "Your resourcefulness is to be admired, Master," he heard himself saying. "An inspiration to we who endeavor to serve you well."

The Hutt regarded him with a serene, triumphant grin, as he nodded, accepting the praise.

"Meggedi dume domaddi tod," Rabblo said magnanimously.

"Yes, Master," Mas agreed. "I am sure the measures you have taken will be quite effective."

After a few more excruciating minutes, Rabblo dismissed him.

As he walked past the gallery of onlookers, he hardly noticed that their amusement had been replaced by something more akin to wariness. They had hoped to see Rabblo's "justice" crush him as it had so many before. Instead, the twi'lek seemed indifferent, at best.

Rabblo watched him go as well. Just before Mas left the chamber, the Hutt spoke again.

"Na Rilina no steki lonti," he said, and the crowd immediately looked toward Mas. She didn't last long.

Mas shook his head. "A pity, Master," he said. "We must hope that lord Jabba was pleased while she lasted." He bowed again, turned, and left.

Somehow, he made it all the way to his chambers before he started to vomit.