Star Wars_ Tales From Jabba's Palace - Kevin J. Anderson [6]
In his prowls scavenging extra food for his pet, Malakili got to know Jabba’s primary chef, Porcellus, rather well. The man was a talented food preparer who lived in constant fear that he would create something Jabba didn’t like, at which point his life and his culinary skills would be forfeit. Malakili would toss slabs of fresh, dripping meat into the openings for the rancor, and the monster seemed gradually to accept him as its caretaker.
For those seeking Jabba’s approval, it soon became a game to find new combatants for the rancor. At first Malakili took the challenges with pride and confidence, knowing that the coiled killing machine would snap up any prey—but gradually he became aware that Jabba did not esteem the rancor as Malakili did. The Hutt saw it as merely a diversion, and if some monster were found that could defeat the rancor, then Jabba would be just as pleased to have a new toy. The Hutt had no compassion for the beautiful beast. He wanted only to test it and test it until it failed.
The rancor became injured for the first time when Jabba released three Caridan combat arachnids into the pit. The combat arachnids had twelve legs each and crimson body armor splotched with maroon, as tough as a thin layer of diamond sheeting. Their bodies were so covered with needle-sharp spines that it was difficult to tell where the spines ended and the sharp legs began. But the jaws were very obvious, jagged pistons three times the size of the bullet-shaped heads and driven with enough power to shear open the hull of an armored transport.
As the gates in the secondary cells were opened and the three angry combat arachnids rushed out with a thunder caused by three dozen legs, Malakili and the rancor—as if psychically connected—both reared back in surprise. Up above, Jabba’s booming laugh, “Hoo-hoo-hoo,” reverberated through the observation grille along with the cheers and catcalls from the simpering minions who crowded around to show their loyalty.
The rancor bent over and splayed its hands, blinked its small dark eyes, and let out a bellow of challenge. It waited for the attack.
The three combat arachnids surged forward seemingly in silence, but Malakili’s ears hurt from a painful high-pitched throbbing, as if the arachnids communicated on some hypersonic level.
One arachnid ran directly beneath the rancor’s legs. Moving too slowly to react to this unexpected tactic, the rancor swept the ground with its fistful of claws, but the combat arachnid escaped to the other side.
While the rancor was distracted, the other two arachnids lunged at its leathery legs, slashing with spines. The rancor batted one creature away, knocking it against the wall with a crunch that split its armor plating open and speared the soft inner organs with broken shards.
But the rancor howled in pain and held up its hand. Malakili could see dark dribbling spots where two of the arachnid’s long spines had thrust all the way through.
The second combat arachnid latched onto the back of the rancor’s leg, where the taut muscles pulled like durasteel cables. The huge mandibles clamped down and ground together, chewing with all the mindless mechanical force the combat arachnid could apply.
Snarling, the rancor bent over and tried to use its shovellike hands to rip the mandibles free; when it could not break their grip, it pried at the head of the arachnid instead.
Finally, the third combat arachnid leaped onto the rancor’s lumpy back from behind as the monster bent over. The third creature slashed with its sharp legs, stabbing with spines, tearing open a butcher’s pattern in the rancor’s hide.
With a squeal of confusion and betrayed pain, the rancor reared up, stumbled backward, and slammed itself into the stone blocks of the wall. The rancor rammed backward again and again, shattering the hard plating