Part 8 (1/2)
Luke had appropriated someone else's drink from a waiter's tray as they made their way to the rear of the cantina. He gulped at it with the giddy air of one who feels himself under divine protection. That safe he was not, but in the company of Ken.o.bi and the giant Wookiee he began to feel confident that no one in the bar would a.s.sault him with so much as a dirty look.
In a rear booth they encountered a sharp-featured young man perhaps five years older than Luke, perhaps a dozen-it was difficult to tell. He displayed the openness of the utterly confident-or the insanely reckless. At their approach the man sent the humanoid wench who had been wriggling on his lap on her way with a whispered something which left a wide, if inhuman, grin on her face.
The Wookiee Chewbacca rumbled something at the man, and he nodded in response, glancing up at the newcomers pleasantly.
”You're pretty handy with that saber, old man. Not often does one see that kind of swordplay in this part of the Empire anymore.” He downed a prodigious portion of whatever filled his mug. ”I'm Han Solo, captain of the Millennium Falcon.” Suddenly he became all business. ”Chewie tells me you're looking for pa.s.sage to the Alderaan system?”
”That's right, son. If it's on a fast s.h.i.+p,” Ken.o.bi told him. Solo didn't bridle at the ”son.”
”Fast s.h.i.+p? You mean you've never heard of the Millennium Falcon?”
Ken.o.bi appeared amused. ”Should I?”
”It's the s.h.i.+p that made the Kessel run in less than twelve standard timeparts!” Solo told him indignantly. ”I've outrun Imperial stars.h.i.+ps and Corellian cruisers. I think she's fast enough for you, old man.” His outrage subsided rapidly. ”What's your cargo?”
”Only pa.s.sengers. Myself, the boy, and two droids-no questions asked.”
”No questions.” Solo regarded his mug, finally looked up. ”Is it local trouble?”
”Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Imperial entanglements,” Ken.o.bi replied easily.
”These days that can be a real trick. It'll cost you a little extra.” He did some mental figuring. ”All in all, about ten thousand. In advance.” He added with a smile, ”And no questions asked.”
Luke gaped at the pilot. ”Ten thousand! We could almost buy our own s.h.i.+p for that.”
Solo shrugged. ”Maybe you could and maybe you couldn't. In any case, could you fly it?”
”You bet I could,” Luke shot back, rising. ”I'm not such a bad pilot myself. I don't-”
Again the firm hand on his arm. ”We haven't that much with us,” Ken.o.bi explained. ”But we could pay you two thousand now, plus another fifteen when we reach Alderaan.”
Solo leaned forward uncertainly. ”Fifteen... You can really get your hands on that kind of money?”
”I promise it-from the government on Alderaan itself. At the worst, you'll have earned an honest fee: two thousand.”
But Solo seemed not to hear the last. ”Seventeen thousand... All right, I'll chance it. You've got yourselves a s.h.i.+p. As for avoiding Imperial entanglements, you'd better twist out of here or even the Millennium Falcon won't be any help to you.” He nodded toward the cantina entrance, and added quickly, ”Docking bay ninety-four, first thing in the morning.”
Four Imperial troopers, their eyes darting rapidly from table to booth to bar, had entered the cantina. There was muttering from among the crowd, but whenever the eyes of one of the heavily armed troopers went hunting for the mutterers, the words died with sullen speed.
Moving to the bar, the officer in charge asked the bartender a couple of brief questions. The big man hesitated a moment, then pointed toward a place near the back of the room. As he did so, his eyes widened slightly. Those of the officer were unreadable.
The booth he was pointing to was empty.
= VII =.
LUKE and Ben were securing Artoo Detoo in the back of the speeder while Threepio kept a lookout for any additional troops.
”If Solo's s.h.i.+p is as fast as his boasting, we should be all right,” the old man observed with satisfaction.
”But two thousand-and fifteen more when we reach Alderaan!”
”It's not the fifteen that worries me; it's the first two,” Ken.o.bi explained. ”I'm afraid you'll have to sell your speeder.”
Luke let his gaze rove over the landspeeder, but the thrill it had once given him was gone-gone along with other things best not dwelt on.
”It's all right,” he a.s.sured Ken.o.bi listlessly. ”I don't think I'll need it again.”
From their vantage point in another booth, Solo and Chewbacca watched as the Imperials strode through the bar. Two of them gave the Corellian a lingering glance. Chewbacca growled once and the two soldiers hurried their pace somewhat.
Solo grinned sardonically, turning to his partner. ”Chewie, this charter could save our necks. Seventeen thousand!” He shook his head in amazement. ”Those two must really be desperate. I wonder what they're wanted for. But I agreed, no questions. They're paying enough for it. Let's get going-the Falcon won't check itself out.”
”Going somewhere, Solo?”
The Corellian couldn't identify the voice, coming as it did through an electronic translator. But there was no problem recognizing the speaker or the gun it held stuck in Solo's side.
The creature was roughly man-sized and bipedal, but its head was something out of delirium by way of an upset stomach. It had huge, dull-faceted eyes, bulbous on a pea-green face. A ridge of short spines crested the high skull, while nostrils and mouth were contained in a tapirlike snout.
”As a matter of fact,” Solo replied slowly, ”I was just on my way to see your boss. You can tell Jabba I've got the money I owe him.”
”That's what you said yesterday-and last week-and the week prior to that. It's too late, Solo. I'm not going back to Jabba with another one of your stories.”
”But I've really got the money this time!” Solo protested.
”Fine. I'll take it now, please.”
Solo sat down slowly. Jabba's minions were apt to be cursed with nervous trigger fingers. The alien took the seat across from him, the muzzle of the ugly little pistol never straying from Solo's chest.
”I haven't got it here with me. Tell Jabba-”
”It's too late, I think. Jabba would rather have your s.h.i.+p.”
”Over my dead body,” Solo said unamiably.
The alien was not impressed. ”If you insist. Will you come outside with me, or must I finish it here?”
”I don't think they'd like another killing in here,” Solo pointed out.
Something which might have been a laugh came from the creature's translator. ”They'd hardly notice. Get up, Solo. I've been looking forward to this for a long time. You've embarra.s.sed me in front of Jabba with your pious excuses for the last time.”
”I think you're right.”
Light and noise filled the little corner of the cantina, and when it had faded, all that remained of the unctuous alien was a smoking, slimy spot on the stone floor.
Solo brought his hand and the smoking weapon it held out from beneath the table, drawing bemused stares from several of the cantina's patrons and clucking sounds from its more knowledgeable ones. They had known the creature had committed its fatal mistake in allowing Solo the chance to get his hands under cover.
”It'll take a lot more than the likes of you to finish me off. Jabba the Hutt always did skimp when it came to hiring his hands.”
Leaving the booth, Solo flipped the bartender a handful of coins as he and Chewbacca moved off. ”Sorry for the mess. I always was a rotten host.”