I gulped the bile rising in my esophagus as I ascended the stage. The amphitheater on Nal Hutta teamed with pirates, smugglers, bounty hunters, and the mourning wail of ho-no-ho from the slug-like Hutts.

A wretched hive of scum and villainy if there ever was one—hardly what one would expect at a memorial service. I still can't believe the Senate is making me give the eulogy.

I cleared my throat, waiting for the rancid Hutts to settle down. Sweat beaded on my forehead. I took a shallow breath, hoping to keep the wafting stench of the Hutts from overwhelming me.

The sooner you finish, the sooner you can retreat to civilization.

"Greetings, gentle beings."

The protocol droid behind me clanged a large gong. The raucous noise subsided to a whispered titter, but I ignored the blathering.

"Today we gather to memorialize His Excellency Jabba Desilijic Tiure of Nal Hutta, Eminence of Tatooine. The great and mighty Jabba's life was cut short at a mere 604 years by a rogue Jedi last year."

Who in the galaxy wrote this piece of poodoo? Didn't even check their facts.

"The New Republic offers its sincerest apolog—"

My stomach churned as memories overwhelmed. I shuddered and clutched the sides of the lectern. My shield of diplomacy shattered.

"Ladies, gentlemen, and Hutts. I will always remember Jabba. How can I forget the torture he inflicted on his enemies—even innocents that got in his way? How can I forget the exorbitant water taxes he levied on the moisture farmers of Tatooine? How can I forget the Niktos and Twi'leks he enslaved? The way he humiliated his slave girls in front of his coterie of ruffians—how he stripped them? how he chained them? how he molested them?"

Even though I whispered that last question, my cheeks burned with anger, not shame. Jabba was dead, and it was a good thing.

"Without Jabba, the Intergalactic Protection Services would not exist. Today, the IPS combats malefactors like Jabba, preserving the rights of every living creature—the right to live freely, the right to choose their own partners, the right to live. Without Jabba, the Zygerrian slave trade would still flourish. Without Jabba, Niktos and Twi'leks would still be chained, eking out a miserable existence all for the pleasure of the Hutts and their comrades."

My resolve stiffened. "Never again."

In the highest seats, some cheered. The reprobates roared, but I paid no heed, instead focusing on the flowing lekku of the Twi'lek and pointed horns of the Nikto. I beamed.

"Entire planets enslaved by Jabba, now free. Slaves no longer subjected to his humiliation, his torture, his indiscriminate murders. Today marks the day we remember freedom from the Hutts. Long live the Republic, for I am The Huttslayer."

While the Hutts booed, the Niktos and Twi'leks chanted, "Huttslayer! Huttslayer!"

I pumped my fist into the air. "A vile beast dies, and new hope is born!"

Words according to Google Docs: 500