Chapter Text
Rotta had never been the biggest fan of flying.
Once he’d joined the New Republic several decades ago though, he’d needed to get used to it. His father, when he felt like speaking to him, had always said a Hutt wasn’t made for flying. But he’d flown both with, and without, his mentor Zeb dozens of times now.
It’d been Zeb’s idea to finally get his own ship. A massive, custom made gunship about twice the size of the Razor Crest. He insisted he had to be independent some time, and Rotta had agreed. Even if learning to pilot the thing had been a living nightmare.
Now, he had piloting under his belt well enough, but it was still a nightmare. Especially on the longer trips like this…
He still didn’t understand why they were out this far. The New Republic was still barely getting up on its feet following “The Final Order”, but it seemed peace never lasted long. They’d sent both him and Zeb on another mission not even six months later.
It was simple enough, meet a contact on Nal Hutta (that’s why he was even there), and bring in a hiding First Order General. But Rotta felt butterflies about it from the jump… And not the good kind either.
The Hutts had lost control of the planet following what happened with the twins. And while it was still crawling with all sorts of other criminals, he doubted he would be bothered anymore.
He had been wrong.
Being shot out of the sky had not been on the list of ways Rotta expected to be greeted. But he’d known it was bad when the last thing he heard from Zeb over their coms was a startled: ”Kid!”
When he’d gained consciousness again everything hurt. His ship was mangled, his coms were fried, and honestly? He was just glad it had only been partially submerged in swamp water or he might have drowned.
Pain was nothing new to him. Before the twins, Jabba had beaten him senseless when he was old enough. And the twins? They’d beat him sometimes until he could barely crawl.
What was new was feeling like he could actually die out here. He knew better than anyone how dangerous this planet was. And while Rotta was a strong and nimble Hutt he had suffered wounds from the crash. It was a terrible place to die…
But thankfully Rotta didn’t intend to.
Instead, he crawled from that ship without a single complaint. Through the marsh he’d landed in, and along the forest floor. It had taken every bit of his energy, but he was nothing if not stubborn.
And he could almost hear his father mocking him in his mind: ”Pathetic, a waste! You will die in the dirt.”
He wouldn’t let even his father’s ghost haunt him that way. So he kept crawling, until his body gave out and he could only heave. His breath shallow, and every ounce of it aching.
Maybe he would die in the dirt, he thought. But he would not have died without a fight, and to him that was more important. He laid his body against a tree and rasped out another breath, taking in the sky… Hoping for a miracle, for a sign of Zeb…. A sign of anyone.
He blacked out before one could come.
——————
“Two credits, best I can do.”
Sean Offris took the offering the droid gave him glumly and gave them a once over. Two credits these days was hardly enough to get a man anywhere. Much less a growing thirteen year old boy working the streets of Nal Hutta.
But if he pooled it in with the eight others that week… It could last him well enough.
The thin, pale human boy pulled the hood over his chestnut colored hair quietly as evening began to descend. It was dangerous enough dealing in stolen goods here. But at night, no one as young or alone as he was would dare be out.
Sean hadn’t been living on his own long. But he absolutely preferred it to where he’d been before. No one truly lived a comfortable or safe life on the planet, obviously but he digressed. There was no way this side of hell he would go back.
Under the cover of night, Sean made his way through the underbrush of the forest. One may have argued it was even more dangerous out there… But if there was one thing the boy knew it was that no one went there at night. Outside of the odd hermit or two.
The people of the forest didn’t ask questions, didn’t pester him… He wasn’t even sure they really minded how he’d taken up residence in an abandoned shack. So, honestly? He didn’t care how dangerous it was.
The teen stepped over roots, stones, and even a few creepy crawlers as he kept his hand on his belt. He only had one weapon: a small knife. But honestly? It would have to do until he had enough credits for a blaster.
He was ten feet from his home when he heard the breathing. Loud, shallow, and… Pained? Sean may have ignored it any other night, but it was far too loud to. Could it be a mercenary? There were a fair bit of those around.
Thankfully, his feet were bare so creeping toward the sound was easy. But he’d only traveled a few feet when he saw it: a Hutt. But not any of the former rulers… No, this one seemed different. Could they really be that muscular?
What’s more it was wounded… And wearing a vest of some sort. Clothing? Did Hutts even wear clothes? He crinkled his nose slightly and decided to get a better look. Clothes had pockets, and the Hutt’s definitely would carry a fair bit of credits.
Making sure to be as silent as he could, the boy approached the slumbering creature. It was bleeding and looked as if he wasn’t waking up soon. But that wasn’t what caught his attention…
It was his vest, or what was on it.
He knew the New Republic, or Resistance symbol anywhere. But the last person he’d expect to see it on was a Hutt. Who the heck was this guy? Had he killed someone and taken it as a trinket.
Someone his size…
His grey-blue eyes traced the Hutt a second time. And he pulled back his hand from his pockets to consider something else. A New Republic fighter had a ship… A ship that could get him off this hellhole.
His eyes wandered back toward the nearby path. Sean couldn’t bring him back to his shack, not by a long shot. But what he could do was help… As much as bandaging his wounds would anyway.
He shook it off. What was he thinking? This was a Hutt? Some of the slimiest, cruelest, and most disturbed beings in the galaxy. Ship or not, he couldn’t help, he shouldn’t… No Hutt would have done the same in his shoes.
Sean started back toward the path and made it a few feet again before turning back. Something about how pathetic and pained the Hutt looked made him think again. Could he really leave him there to die? He really should have… Most people old enough to remember the Hutt’s empire at its peak would say so.
Lucky for him, Sean was several decades removed from that time.