Part 8 (2/2)
Heavily armed troopers hurried down the narrow alleyway, glowering from time to time at the darkly clad beings who hawked exotic goods from dingy little stalls. Here in Mos Eisley's inner regions the walls were high and narrow, turning the pa.s.sageway into a tunnel.
No one stared angrily back at them; no one shouted imprecations or mouthed obscenities. These armored figures moved with the authority of the Empire, their sidearms boldly displayed and activated. All around, men, not-men, and mechanicals were crouched in waste-littered doorways. Among acc.u.mulations of garbage and filth they exchanged information and concluded transactions of dubious legality.
A hot wind moaned down the alleyway and the troopers closed their formation. Their precision and order masked a fear of such claustrophobic quarters.
One paused to check a door, only to discover it tightly locked and bolted. A sand-encrusted human shambling nearby visited a half-mad harangue on the trooper. Shrugging inwardly, the soldier gave the crazy human a sour eye before moving on down the alley to join up again with his fellows.
As soon as they were well past, the door slid open a crack and a metallic face peered out. Below Threepio's leg, a squat barrel shape struggled for a view.
”I would rather have gone with Master Luke than stay here with you. Still, orders are orders. I don't quite know what all the trouble is about, but I'm sure it must be your fault.”
Artoo responded with a near impossibility: a sn.i.g.g.e.ring beep.
”You watch your language,” the taller machine warned.
The number of old landspeeders and other powered transports in the dusty lot which were still capable of motion could be counted on the fingers of one hand. But that was not the concern of Luke and Ben as they stood bargaining with the tall, slightly insectoid owner. They were here not to buy, but to sell.
None of the pa.s.sersby favored the hagglers with so much as a curious glance. Similar transactions which were the business of no one but the transactors took place half a thousand times daily in Mos Eisley.
Eventually there were no more pleas or threats to be exchanged. As though doling out vials of his own blood, the owner finalized the sale by pa.s.sing a number of small metal shapes to Luke. Luke and the insectoid traded formal good-byes and then they parted, each convinced he had gotten the better of the deal.
”He says it's the best he can do. Since the XP-38 came out, they just aren't in demand anymore,” Luke sighed.
”Don't look so discouraged,” Ken.o.bi chided him. ”What you've obtained will be sufficient. I've enough to cover the rest.”
Leaving the main street, they turned down an alleyway and walked past a small robot herding along a clutch of creatures resembling attenuated anteaters. As they rounded the corner Luke strained for a forlorn glimpse of the old landspeeder-his last link with his former life. Then there was no more time for looking back.
Something short and dark that might have been human underneath all its wrappings stepped out of the, shadows as they moved away from the corner. It continued staring after them as they disappeared down a bend in the walkway.
The docking-bay entrance to the small saucer-shaped s.p.a.cecraft was completely ringed by half a dozen men and aliens, of which the former were by half the most grotesque. A great mobile tub of muscle and suet topped by a s.h.a.ggy scarred skull surveyed the semicircle of armed a.s.sa.s.sins with satisfaction. Moving forward from the center of the crescent, he shouted toward the s.h.i.+p.
”Come on out. Solo! We've got you surrounded.”
”If so, you're facing the wrong way,” came a calm voice.
Jabba the Hutt jumped-in itself a remarkable sight. His lackeys likewise whirled-to see Han Solo and Chewbacca standing behind them.
”You see, I've been waiting for you, Jabba.”
”I expected you would be,” the Hutt admitted, at once pleased and alarmed by the fact that neither Solo nor the big Wookiee appeared to be armed.
”I'm not the type to run,” Solo said.
”Run? Run from what!” Jabba countered. The absence of visible weapons bothered Jabba more than he cared to admit to himself. There was something peculiar here, and it would be better to make no hasty moves until he discovered what was amiss.
”Han, my boy, there are times when you disappoint me. I merely wish to know why you haven't paid me... as you should have long ago. And why did you have to fry poor Greedo like that? After all you and I have been through together.”
Solo grinned tightly. ”Shove it, Jabba. There isn't enough sentiment in your body to warm an orphaned bacterium. As for Greedo, you sent him to kill me.”
”Why, Han,” Jabba protested in surprise. ”Why would I do that? You're the best smuggler in the business. You're too valuable to fry. Greedo was only relaying my natural concern at your delays. He wasn't going to kill you.”
”I think he thought he was. Next time don't send one of those hired twerps. If you've got something to say, come see me yourself.”
Jabba shook his head and his jowls shook-lazy, fleshy echoes of his mock sorrow. ”Han, Han-if only you hadn't had to dump that s.h.i.+pment of spice! You understand... I just can't make an exception. Where would I be if every pilot who smuggled for me dumped his s.h.i.+pment at the first sign of an Imperial wars.h.i.+p? And then simply showed empty pockets when I demanded recompense? It's not good business. I can be generous and forgiving-but not to the point of bankruptcy.”
”You know, even I get boarded sometimes, Jabba. Did you think I dumped that spice because I got tired of its smell? I wanted to deliver it as much as you wanted to receive it. I had no choice.” Again the sardonic smile. ”As you say, I'm too valuable to fry. But I've got a charter now and I can pay you back, plus a little extra. I just need some more time. I can give you a thousand on account, the rest in three weeks.”
The gross form seemed to consider, then directed his next words not to Solo but to his hirelings. ”Put your blasters away.” His gaze and a predatory smile turned to the wary Corellian.
”Han, my boy, I'm only doing this because you're the best and I'll need you again sometime. So, out of the greatness of my soul and a forgiving heart-and for an extra, say, twenty percent-I'll give you a little more time.” The voice nearly cracked with restraint. ”But this is the last time. If you disappoint me again, if you trample my generosity in your mocking laughter, I'll put a price on your head so large you won't be able to go near a civilized system for the rest of your life, because on every one your name and face will be known to men who'll gladly cut your guts out for one-tenth of what I'll promise them.”
”I'm glad we both have my best interests at heart,” replied Solo pleasantly as he and Chewbacca started past the staring eyes of the Hutt's hired guns. ”Don't worry, Jabba, I'll pay you. But not because you threaten me. I'll pay you because... it's my pleasure.”
”They're starting to search the s.p.a.ceport central,” the Commander declared, having to alternately run a couple of steps and then walk to keep pace with the long strides of Darth Vader. The Dark Lord was deep in thought as he strode down one of the battle station's main corridors, trailed by several aides.
”The reports are just starting to come in,” the Commander went on. ”It's only a matter of time before we have those droids.”
”Send in more men if you have to. Never mind the protests of the planetary Governor-I must have those droids. It's her hope of that data being used against us that is the pillar of her resistance to the mind probes.”
”I understand, Lord Vader. Until then we must waste our time with Governor Tarkin's foolish plan to break her.”
”There's docking bay ninety-four,” Luke told Ken.o.bi and the robots who had rejoined them, ”and there's Chewbacca. He seems excited about something.”
Indeed, the big Wookiee was waving over the heads of the crowd and jabbering loudly in their direction. Speeding their pace, none of the foursome noticed the small, dark-clad thing that had followed them from the transporter lot.
The creature moved into the doorway and pulled a tiny transmitter from a pouch concealed by its multifold robes. The transmitter looked far too new and modern to be in the grasp of so decrepit a specimen, yet its manipulator was speaking into it with steady a.s.surance.
Docking bay ninety-four, Luke noted, was no different in appearance from a host of other grandiosely named docking bays scattered throughout Mos Eisley. It consisted mostly of an entrance rampway and an enormous pit gouged from the rocky soil. This served as clearance radii for the effects of the simple antigrav drive which boosted all s.p.a.cecraft clear of the gravitational field of the planet.
The mathematics of s.p.a.cedrive were simple enough even to Luke. Antigrav could operate only when there was a sufficient gravity well to push against-like that of a planet-whereas supralight travel could only take place when a s.h.i.+p was clear of that same gravity. Hence the necessity for the dual-drive system on any extrasystem craft.
The pit which formed docking bay ninety-four was as shabbily cut and run-down as the majority of Mos Eisley. Its sloping sides were crumbling in places instead of being smoothly fas.h.i.+oned as they were on more populous worlds. Luke felt it formed the perfect setting for the s.p.a.cecraft Chewbacca was leading them toward.
That battered ellipsoid which could only loosely be labeled a s.h.i.+p appeared to have been pieced together out of old hull fragments and components discarded as unusable by other craft. The wonder of it, Luke mused, was that the thing actually held its shape. Trying to picture this vehicle as s.p.a.ceworthy would have caused him to collapse in hysteria-were the situation not so serious. But to think of traveling to Alderaan in this pathetic...
”What a piece of junk,” he finally murmured, unable to hide his feelings any longer. They were walking up the rampway toward the open port. ”This thing couldn't possibly make it into hypers.p.a.ce.”
Ken.o.bi didn't comment, but merely gestured toward the port, where a figure was coming to meet them.
Either Solo had supernaturally acute hearing, or else he was used to the reaction the sight of the Millennium Falcon produced in prospective pa.s.sengers. ”She may not look like much,” he confessed as he approached them, ”but she's all go. I've added a few unique modifications to her myself. In addition to piloting, I like to tinker. She'll make point five factors beyond lightspeed.”
Luke scratched his head as he tried to rea.s.sess the craft in view of its owner's claims. Either the Corellian was the biggest liar this side of the galactic center, or there was more to this vessel than met the eye. Luke thought back once more to old Ben's admonition never to trust surface impressions, and decided to reserve judgment on the s.h.i.+p and its pilot until after he had watched them in operation.
Chewbacca had lingered behind at the docking-bay entrance. Now he rushed up the ramp, a hairy whirlwind, and blabbered excitedly at Solo. The pilot regarded him coolly, nodding from time to time, then barked a brief reply. The Wookiee charged into the s.h.i.+p, pausing only to urge everyone to follow.
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