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time and training: each one in awe of the beast, each one wanting to share a bit of its power just by being close to it.
    Malakili went inside the rancor cage and made sure the locks on the heavy outside door had been freshly cut so that the escape would be easy once Valarian’s ship arrived.
    He looked at his chronometer, double-checking, counting down. Less than an hour to go. His heart pounded.
    The rancor was tense and restless in its cage. It knew something was up, and it made questioning, snortingnoises every time Malakili came within view of the outside doors.
    â€œJust a little while longer, my pet,” Malakili said. “Then we can both be free of this place.”
    Above, he heard only the dull silence and the drowsy sounds as Jabba and the others slept, even the scantily clad new human wench whom he kept chained to the dais.
    Malakili heard footsteps skittering about like spiders above, those few who remained awake to build their own plans against Jabba. He heard the rattling of a grate above. Other footsteps. Malakili cursed the disturbance.
    He looked at his chronometer again and was alarmed to hear Jabba stirring, others talking, the minions awakening. A visitor had appeared. Not now!
    Malakili hissed and paced up and down the dank corridors. He couldn’t have Jabba waking up now. Perhaps Jabba could take care of the new business quickly and decide to catch another hour or so of sleep.
    He heard Jabba’s booming voice. Something that might have been an argument. An outcry—and then from above the trapdoor opened, and two more bodies tumbled into the rancor pit.
    Malakili moaned, kneading his fists together. “Why now?” He looked at his chronometer again. The rescue ship would be coming any moment.
    Several of Gonar’s replacements pressed forward next to Malakili to watch the new victims die in the pit. He couldn’t remember any of their names. He couldn’t care about them now. He whispered a message he knew the rancor could not hear. “Just eat them. Hurry, my pet!”
    He saw a young, thin human male—nothing to worry about there—and one of the stupid Gamorrean guards. Malakili cringed when he saw the guard stillhad his wicked vibro-ax, which could hurt the rancor—but the guard seemed too terrified to remember his weapon.
    The piglike brute turned to flee, but the rancor was upon him in a second, grabbing him up and jamming the entire body into its mouth. It chomped down, then slurped the still-twitching legs down into its throat. The rancor turned to the human male and strode forward.
    Malakili looked at his chronometer. Lady Valarian’s ship would be approaching even now, drifting silently across the sands, creeping to the secret rendezvous. “Come on!” he whispered.
    Up above, the spectators cheered and cackled wildly. Jabba’s deep-throated laugh echoed into the pit. The watchers seemed to be giving the spectacle more importance than it should have had. Malakili wondered who this victim was.
    The young man ran to the other side of the pit, snatching one of the discarded bones on the floor just as the rancor grabbed him in its claws and lifted him up to the jagged jaws.
    The human thought fast and jammed the long bone like a support strut into the rancor’s mouth, and the monster dropped him as it bit down on the splintery bone, snapping it.
    Malakili winced, remembering the shards from the combat arachnids that had caused so much pain to the soft inner lining of the rancor’s mouth. “My poor pet,” he said.
    Malakili calmed himself.
No matter
. Once they escaped, he would have all the time in the worlds to take care of his monster, alone and at peace on their own world.
    The young man ran in panic like a spooked Jawa, slamming against the open grille of the access doortrying to get out. Malakili batted him back, and the others pushed the young man away.
    â€œHurry up and get eaten!” he said, glancing yet