Bab 40: This is My Dust Ball
"Take us back." Jack demanded after we finished a thorough exploration of her incredible acreage.
"Can't. No ryncol." I told her as I donned a robe that was once a silk tapestry.
"Then make some." She insisted.
"Don't know how." I admitted.
"You can make power armor that magically increases the muzzle velocity of your guns, but can't brew ryncol?" Jack inquired in an accusational tone.
"Both of these things can be true at the same time." I answered, "I was made to drink ryncol, not brew it."
"So now what?" Jack sought direction.
"Now we crack down on Jabba's lieutenants and ensure the credits keep flowing in the right direction."
"I am down with the gambling, the drugs, the bounty hunting, the piracy, and the racketeering, but in case you have forgotten… a fat chunk of the revenue stream is Jabba's slavery operation!" Jack yelled, "We are not going to become the batarians of this galaxy. I fucking outright refuse to be that scummy."
"I feel you. I hear you. And I understand." I put my hands together like I was praying then opened them up like a slippery used car salesman, "But I raise you the point that some people deserve slavery."
"Bullshit." Jack denied.
"Tusken Raiders." I countered.
"Ah shit." Jack muttered, "Fuck those dudes. 'The water is ours given to us by our gods. Now die.' I can't believe you just convinced me to become a slaver so easily."
"It helps when you have a whole species full of assholes to deal with and a constant demand for slaves." I told her, "It will be way more work than the lazy bastards are used to, and we'll take a hit to the profit margin because of it, but it both makes us money and gets rid of a huge problem for us. Win win winning."
Bib Fortuna was a real treasure. The guy had everything we needed to take Jabba's place as a crime lord already planned out. Almost like the guy hoped Jabba would one day die and he could rise up. He knew everyone to lean on and who to make examples of and by the end of the week everyone on Tatooine knew that I was Jabba's son by a lesser krayt dragon. He died when his sexual appetite turned to greater krayt dragons. So tragic.
It was raw bullshit and the only people who actually believed it were the people who saw me in person. I really did look like a hutt fucked a krayt dragon. All krogan do.
To get everyone on board I broke the bank and invited the who's who of my new subordinates and the big wigs of the Grand Hutt Council to Jabba's lavish funeral. I ordered forty days of world wide morning for my 'father' with a week of feasting following Jabba's closed casket ceremony.
Really it was just a rouse while Jack and I armed up and an opportunity to get the sand people right where I wanted them. They laughed the envoy I sent all the way back to my palace, giving great offense to the revered memory of Jabba the Hutt and providing me an emotional reason for why we would be waging war on the dusty fucks. The banta jockeys have insulted the mighty hutt race for the last time.
I think I have developed a love of roleplaying.
I hunted down the greater krayt dragon that killed my father and what a fight that was. Bastard was big as a thresher maw and spat acid too. I killed it using vibro bladed throwing spears. It sounds simple and it is. Despite its size, despite its strength, despite its scales physics is a mean bitch.
I can throw a spear really hard. Class 5 strength chucks a 6 kilo javelin at ridiculous acceleration. Pack all that force into the point of a spear and make that spear vibrate furiously and you arrive at the reason I put a duplex nail head on the end of all my javelins. Killing the legendary beast was as simple as sinking a basket full of javelins into its neck and waiting. The hardest part was pulling all my spears out.
At a later date the pearls of the krayt dragon that killed Jabba would net me a hefty sum in an anonymous auction.
Though I invited the other four members of the Grand Hutt Council to attend, the only hutt that came was my great uncle Ziro Desilijic Tiure. Though born of the prior generation, the purple slug controlled far less of hutt space than Jabba. His lack of success is likely what drove the man to gather dirt on all the various hutt operations, what he lacked in business sense he made up for in intrigue to a certain extent.
Ziro was either here to snatch up a chunk of my inheritance or to evaluate me for the council.
"Little Nephew Grunt." he greeted with false cheer in his high pitched voice as he joined me at the head table of the feast, "Such a shame, Jabba's passing, but not nearly as big a shame as him denying me time with my Little Nephew."
I get it bro. You are a 4 meter long big ass slug man. But do you even care that I am the one who has to look down at you cause half your length is dragging ass.
"Meeting the rest of the family was always something father held over me." I spoke to my 'great uncle' in Huttese, copying Jabba's drawl like I have six hundred years of experience talking like this, "It was always just out of reach. Prove you are smart as a hutt and we will go to Grandma's house. Prove you're strong as a hutt. Tough as a hutt. Live as long as a hutt. Always another condition beyond."
"It is quite rare for a hutt hybrid to come to term." Ziro soothed my fake frustration, "But it sounds like you passed Jabba's tests. Very good little nephew. Did Jabba teach you how to run his empire? There is quite a bit to running such a vast expanse of space."
"I know how what needs to be done and how to meet Jabba's commitments and who those commitments are to." I assured the slick and sleazy slug, "The credits won't slow down too much."
"But you still expect the credits to slow down?" Ziro inquired about one of the only subjects that mattered to the hutts any more.
"An opportunity has arisen to mix business and pleasure." I told him, "An investment in Tatooine and a trimming of an over bloated roster."
"You have my full attention." He said as he sipped a glowing green martini.
"I commanded the sand people to weep for my father's passing and they had the audacity to laugh." really had his ear hole now, "So for the next few years I will focus my full slaver fleet right here at home. They were to weep for 40 days, and now they will weep for a thousand years as they toil away under our yoke, the entire species."
"Quite ambitious." Ziro stroked my ego, "But the sand people have always been more trouble than they are worth."
"True, in pure credits it will be a loss." I told him, "But as I said, the roster is getting a bit too bloated for my liking and the ones who make it through this trying time will be harder for it. I'd rather have 10,000 hard veterans than 20,000 limp wristed sissies."
"So true." Ziro agreed, "Good help is so hard to find these days. I can see the wisdom in raising them in house."
Ziro and I went back and forth over the course of his stay in my palace and I couldn't help but like the guy. Cowardly, petty, and weak, but a terrific conversationalist. I'd find out later that despite his act like an uncle trying to weasel his way into a position of influence he was actually evaluating the truth of my claims and competence. He admitted that he believed me to really be Jabba's son due to my consistent speech patterns and intimate knowledge of Jabba and his businesses. He also failed to find anyone who countered my claim, everyone too scared of me to blab. That earned me big respect as credits are silver, but silence is golden.
With the hutts backed off for now I was able to launch my war against the banta jockeys. Leading my men in raids daily, I tempered my forces in violence, proved myself as a warrior and a leader, gained a tremendous amount of low investment high yield cattle in the form of the bantas they used for transport, replaced my varren packs with their domesticated massiffs, stockpiled slug throwers and other various weapons, lowered the planet's water consumption, and solidified the loyalty of everyone on Tatooine who suffered at the hands of the Tusken Raiders… so everyone.
Obviously the violence went both ways as the sand people upped their attacks on the civilized people of this desert world, but my absolute control of the sky and their complete inability to hide from sensors made any attempt by them to build up sufficient manpower to threaten a major settlement an open invitation for me to lead a devastating strike against them.
It took us years to hunt down all the Tusken Raiders, years in which Jack and I gained a reputation as bloodthirsty and capable warriors, even more so with the limited hunting of krayt dragons. Jabba knew just how many he could kill without cutting off his supply in the future, a practice I kept up as the pearls commanded a hefty market price.
The banta jockeys actually started turning us a nice profit as well once we perfected breaking them into obedient slaves. They required very little sustenance and could survive very harsh conditions making them perfect for the various agrarian colonies in the outer rim. By the start of the Clone Wars I'd sold the lot of them.
Just after the second anniversary of Jabba's funeral, (A holiday in the territory I commanded) the Grand Hutt Council asked me to take up my father's seat. I liked Marlo and Arok and their traditional Italian gangster schtick. Gorga was to much an accountant for me to and him to click and Oruba saw the grossest hutt I'd ever seen.
When not conspiring to commit crimes or destroying the sand people, I was busy mining phrik. It was a bitch and a half to mine the nearly indestructible material, but a few kidnappings from Shu-Torum got us the information we needed. I always laughed with my brother about how lightsaber resistant materials were always super rare and unobtainable unless you were the bad guys fighting against the Jedi, then the stuff is low hanging fruit.
Well now I am a Star Wars bad guy and I have one of the only two known phrik deposits in my backyard.
I think I will take an order of indestructible sword and shield with my invulnerable armor. You know what, make that two orders. Can't have the wife left out.
PERTIMBANGAN PENCIPTA 
JManM
JManM Well, I am fairly certain I have subverted expectations with this chapter. It seems like every SI Star Wars fic I read has the MC clutch their pearls in outrage at the hutts and their slavery. Then the story wastes a bunch of chapters detailing the hero White Knighting across the galaxy saving a bunch of people I don't give a shit about and virtue signalling how big a holy roller he is.
I give you Slaver! Grunt and Jack delivering street justice to the subhuman mongerloid shit cultures in space. I am an Imperialist bastard - I know - but I will hold that not all cultures are equal and that some cultures should be destroyed until someone proves to me otherwise.
You can shoot me all the Mandalorian 'But they are honest and keep their word' bullshit you want. They are honest assholes and their words are always die non sand person swine! Fuck those guys.
Bab 41: I did say I was a Businessman in a Past Life
I danced slowly to a song that existed only in my heart and home universe until a B1 battle droid came in and fake coughed to get my attention.
"Ahem, Sir, the CIS ambassador is here." the funny battle droid stated.
Seriously, I only keep a few of these guys around for comedic purposes. The one who passes my butter is a true delight.
"That was today?" I asked.
"It was actually ten minutes ago." the droid answered.
"Oh… neat." I told the droid while I got my shit together, "Who'd they send."
"Asajj Ventress."
Be still my rising cock.
I fell in love with a murderous space baldie, and though I do love the hair Jack had grown out over the years, a part of me will always remember her first look fondly. The part that stiffens when other murderous space baldies enter my lair.
Would I pop chub if Mace Wendu decided to invade? Fight boners are a thing, so… yes, maybe. Insufficient data to reach satisfactory conclusion.
I had embraced the spirit of my best salarian pal and conducted a vast multi-year experiment, documented my results, and concluded empirically that the people of this galaxy are softer than baby shit.
When you hand a pair of elite level space wolves a violent criminal empire and turn us on a galaxy weakened by a thousand years of peace, well the last handful of years before the clone wars broke out were an all consuming feeding frenzy. At this point I can't tell if the Republic is more scared of us or the Confederacy.
I think the heads of the baker's dozen Jedi Jack and I mailed to the Senate tipped things into our favor.
Tatooine had changed drastically over the years, and not just that I'd moved from Jabba's palace to Grunt's ludicrous mega fortress. I'd started breeding not only the massiffs I'd taken from the sand people as guard beasts and hunting hounds, but also started ranching the local krayt dragon population. The current number of krayt dragons existing outside of captivity is zero. In the long run it would greatly diminish the value of holding Tatooine as a seat of power, but I am pretty sure my strip mining operations were doing that even faster.
My little dust ball is actually filled to the brim with various metals, and initially that drew the galaxies mega corporations here. When they found out that all of it was tainted and the price of refining it was higher than the price they could sell it, they fled faster than a pack of vorcha from a pissed off krogan. That's why the Jawas live in massive mining machines. The cost of taking all the heavy equipment with them was too high when the corpos retreated.
But can you guess what tainted metal is really good for? If you guessed slugthrower ammo then you are absolutely right. A number of kidnappings later and I had a highly motivated think tank of engineers turning my ideas about developing slugthrower tech into reality. Fully auto shotguns, heavy machine guns, sniper rifles that can tear a target in two from a mile out, not to mention the various anti ship cannons and anti fighter flack cannons.
I'd used my three finger discount to snatch up my workforce for all the manufacturing. For the last six years I'd mercilessly raided both the Trade Federation and the Techno Union. I constantly stole their ships and droids and had enough slicers and programmers working for me full time to start a major software company, but instead they spent their days reprogramming droids to love them some Jack and Grunt.
When they sent a fleet to blockade Tatooine I sent them a thank you note for cutting down on my travel expenses. I am a guy who they hated for stealing their droids and ships and they sent more droids and ships to stop me. No wonder a ten year old beat these stupid fucks on Naboo.
Hostilities ended when I kidnapped Gunray and Watt and sent their corporations a video of them standing naked next to my sexually aroused rancor with the caption: Meet my demands or they get fucked to death.
God I love my new job.
They sent me enough mining and industrial equipment to strip mine a small resource rich world every ten years and paid me enough yearly tribute to halt half my enterprises and still come out ahead.
I immediately used those resources to transform my organization from a thorn in the galaxy's side to her abusive alcoholic husband. Sure, they could rally their strength and kill me, but would they ever have the courage to?
At this point Mama the Hutt was ready to declare the Hutt Empire arisen once more with me as its Emperor. After all, I'd inspired an entire generation of young hutts to get off the couch and bust ass both in the gym and in the wider galaxy. We were ready to remind people why we have been in charge for so long. Spoiler alert, it's because hutts that lift are swole like Mr Olympia Open Champions and can survive having half their brain blown out.
"It's about time you got here." Jack said as she lazily draped herself on our shared throne.
She dressed in samite spun with platinum and rings, bracelets, and rope necklaces made of the same precious metal (cause gold is cheap and tacky when you are rich enough to control entire star systems). She hid a pair of cortosis bracers in her sleeves.
The trip to this verse had done her a world of good. With a solid strength and conditioning program she maxed out the physical power eating Jabba gave her and it showed. While not cut because of our luxurious diet, Jack was both lean and powerful, finally strong enough to transform from a young woman lashing out at the universe in fear and pain into a dominant and confident queen with her hands on the wheel and her eyes up on the road.
She was the most glorious woman to ever exist in two galaxies, and I am not just saying that because she can take a pounding that would crush anyone else and come back for more after rehydrating.
Asajj is a woman similar to Jack in more than just appearance, but has yet to rise above the hand she has been dealt in life. A woman still stuck in the quagmire of anguish and only diving deeper.
After I took my place on the throne, the pair of commando droids allowed Ventress to approach.
"Greetings mighty Grunt. I am Asajj Ventress, Apprentice to Count Dooku and ambassador for the Confederacy of Independent Systems."
"While you are certainly easier on the eyes than your master, I must confess myself disappointed that he didn't come here himself." I told the pale nightsister, "I'd really love to have him at my table for dinner, and I just don't think I'd take the same pleasure in picking your brain."
Jack chuckled, interrupting the conversation, "Sorry, the eating people jokes always get me."
"That's why I do them." I grinned at her while Asajj bit back her response and recomposed herself.
"My master deeply regrets his inability to attend these negotiations, but I assure you I speak with both his voice and authority during these talks." Got to give it to the girl, she can pull off the whole humble and contrite act.
I just laughed at her response, "Nice try, but we know that Dooku isn't dumb enough to ever walk into an enclosed space with us, that's what he has you for." her scowl deepened as her anger built, "I assume he sent his nubile and naïve apprentice in an attempt to seduce me? He knows that the Republic has spread its legs to get access to my hyperspace routes. He isn't dumb enough to have sent you in your usual capacity, because all that would accomplish is me lowering my price to destroy the CIS from a complete ass fucking to a far more mutual agreement."
"Maybe he is trying to get rid of her?" Jack mused.
"Nah." I denied, "It's still too early in her training for his master to feel threatened and her record isn't tarnished enough yet for him to give up on her."
"You know not of what you speak." Ventress hissed.
"On the contrary, I am deeply studied in both Jedi and Sith history and ideology." I countered, "I know that as things stand now both the Jedi and the Sith are at their most hollow state in terms of both overall power and dogma. Following the Russan Reforms the Jedi doctrine became entirely based in fear. They seek to turn themselves into unfeeling things out of fear of the Dark Side. The success of the Rule of Two is based on selflessness to the level even the Jedi would balk under, and it expects this of people who pull their strength from sources like fear and anger. Every master must give of himself fully to his student and each apprentice must boldly face his master. Your master fully believes in the Rule of Two because his years as a Jedi leave him vulnerable to high minded ideas, but does his master believe in the same?"
"You dare to question the Sith?" said the woman who drank deeply the Dark Side Kool Aid.
"Jedi, Sith, both are just people worshiping a source of power that actively seeks to enslave its users." I answered her rhetorical question, "To me you are all just space wizards high on your own farts."
The woman actually leapt at us and got caught in a singularity from Jack. As she helplessly floated around a blue sphere we both laughed. We'd learned previously that we are wounds in the Force, which means that direct Force abilities cannot affect us. Jack's mass effect fields also carry this property which means any Force user caught in her abilities such as Singularity, Lift, or Stasis are unable to use the Force to escape. Long story short, Space Wizards ain't got shit on us.
"Ventress." I addressed our captive, "The only reason you are still alive is because I want to fuck you. Drop the lightsabers if you are down, otherwise this is the end."
A week later Asajj left our care having found a whole new foundation for the line in the Sith Code: Through passion I gain strength.
PERTIMBANGAN PENCIPTA
JManM
JManM
I finally checked the power rankings and this story has been voted the current 8th most popular fanfiction on the platform.
This means a heck of a lot to me as it is no longer me just telling myself I am a good writer, it is the audience telling me that they agree.
Because of this response I have applied for a Pat re on account under the same user name. Currently the account is in the approval stage, but I assure you all that I am no where near desperate enough to lock content behind a paywall. I am pretty sure that is illegal in the USA, so unless my business fails I won't be using such aggressive tactics to get subscribers.
If anyone can think of rewards for the various tiers I would love to hear it. I am currently thinking to open a discord for the people that subsribe for a dollar a month. I know alot of the comments get censored out by Webnovel and that sucks.
On the story front, people have been asking me when his life as a businessman would come into play, probobly hoping he would use his knowledge of earth products to generate unlimited cash wherever he goes. I doubt anyone was thinking that Grunt would strip mine worlds to fuel his self made military industrial complex.
Also Ventress got a lesson in humilty and double standards, and yes it was that four letter R word that hits everyone in their melon heart and makes them lose their shit. I understand that this is a topic that even when touched upon lightly offends people deeply. I do not care and I will not apologize. If this causes you to drop my story, I am sure their is a government provided safe space you can retreat to.
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