Read Online Tales from Mos Eisley Cantina by Kevin J. Anderson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kevin J. Anderson
Tags: Star Wars
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lucky. Unlike some people I know, I gotta work for a living .
Chewbacca made a soft warning growl and Solo raised his head and looked around. Two bulbous faceted eyes were staring at him out of spiny green balls of flesh. The leather-garbed humanoid body beneath the head held a blaster in multisuckered fingers.
“Han Solo?” The voice from the long green snout spoke through an electronic translator.
“Who wants to know?” Han knew who wanted to know. A Rodian with a blaster is always a bounty hunter … or a bill collector.
“Greedo. I work for Jabba the Hutt.”
“Greedo … oh yeah, I remember you—the kid who tried to steal my power couplings. Okay, good for you, so now you’re workin’ for Jabba. By the way, I understand Rodian, so you can turn off the squawk box.”
Han jumped down from the scaffolding as casually ashe could and picked up a rag to wipe his hands. Hidden in the rag was a small Telltrig-7 blaster, carefully placed there for just this eventuality. Fortunately he didn’t have to use it—his mouth was his best weapon:
“Listen … tell Jabba the truth —I came to Tatooine for only one reason: to pay him.”
Greedo turned off the translator. Goa had suggested he use it to make sure the “client” fully understood the gravity of the situation. But if Solo really understands Rodian, I’ll be able to use untranslatable Rodian threats .
“Neshki J’ba klulta ntuz tch krast, Solo.” Jabba doesn’t believe dorsal-spine parasites tell the truth, Solo.
“Yeah, well, what does that overfed vermiform know? Do you really think I’d come anywhere near this place if I didn’t have the money?”
Greedo’s hand tightened on his gun. He wasn’t sure if insulting one’s employer required special action on the part of a bounty hunter. What Solo said about being on Tatooine was logical, though. If somebody was after your hide, would you fly into his back pocket? This is going to be easy .
“Skak, trn kras ka noota, Solo.” All right, then give me the money, Solo. “Vnu sna Greedo vorskl ta.” Then Greedo will be on his way.
“Yeah, tell ya what, Greedo … tell ya what. It’s not quite that simple. The loot is bolted into the frame of the Falcon here. Secret hiding place. Understand? Why don’t you come back tomorrow morning and I’ll hand it right over, easy as pie. How’s that sound?”
“Nvtuta bork te ptu motta. Tni snato.” No, get it right now. I’ll wait.
I’m not letting this gulley fish slip out of my grasp , Greedo thought … especially with Warhog watchin’ me from the shadows .
“I can’t get it right now. Listen, if you can wait till tomorrow, I’ll throw in a little bonus—a couple thousand credits just for you. How’s that sound?”
That sounded good.
“Prog mnete enyaz ftt sove shuss.” Make it four thousand credits.
“Four thousand? Are you crazy—? Oh, all right, ya got me over a barrel, pal. We’ll do it your way. Four thousand for you, first thing in the morning. It’s a deal.”
Without another word, Solo turned his back on the bounty hunter and began cleaning a spanner. He palmed the little blaster, just in case the green kid changed his mind. But a minute later Chewie gave his “all clear” grunt and Solo relaxed.
“Great, Chewie. Can you believe the nerve of that guy? Now we got to finish prepping the ship tonight . When that punk comes around tomorrow morning, all he’s going to find is a big grease spot on the hangar floor!”
Warhog Goa sipped a Starshine Surprise and glanced around the Mos Eisley Cantina. The bounty-hunter crowd was thinning out. A lot of hunters had gotten their contracts and jumped. Some of ’em were probably already stalking targets in the streets of cities a thousand parsecs away. “Solo doesn’t plan to pay you,” he said, looking at his protégé. “Don’t you get it? It’s a stall.”
Warhog noticed the two Rodians sitting in the booth near the entrance lobby. They nodded to him and
Chewbacca made a soft warning growl and Solo raised his head and looked around. Two bulbous faceted eyes were staring at him out of spiny green balls of flesh. The leather-garbed humanoid body beneath the head held a blaster in multisuckered fingers.
“Han Solo?” The voice from the long green snout spoke through an electronic translator.
“Who wants to know?” Han knew who wanted to know. A Rodian with a blaster is always a bounty hunter … or a bill collector.
“Greedo. I work for Jabba the Hutt.”
“Greedo … oh yeah, I remember you—the kid who tried to steal my power couplings. Okay, good for you, so now you’re workin’ for Jabba. By the way, I understand Rodian, so you can turn off the squawk box.”
Han jumped down from the scaffolding as casually ashe could and picked up a rag to wipe his hands. Hidden in the rag was a small Telltrig-7 blaster, carefully placed there for just this eventuality. Fortunately he didn’t have to use it—his mouth was his best weapon:
“Listen … tell Jabba the truth —I came to Tatooine for only one reason: to pay him.”
Greedo turned off the translator. Goa had suggested he use it to make sure the “client” fully understood the gravity of the situation. But if Solo really understands Rodian, I’ll be able to use untranslatable Rodian threats .
“Neshki J’ba klulta ntuz tch krast, Solo.” Jabba doesn’t believe dorsal-spine parasites tell the truth, Solo.
“Yeah, well, what does that overfed vermiform know? Do you really think I’d come anywhere near this place if I didn’t have the money?”
Greedo’s hand tightened on his gun. He wasn’t sure if insulting one’s employer required special action on the part of a bounty hunter. What Solo said about being on Tatooine was logical, though. If somebody was after your hide, would you fly into his back pocket? This is going to be easy .
“Skak, trn kras ka noota, Solo.” All right, then give me the money, Solo. “Vnu sna Greedo vorskl ta.” Then Greedo will be on his way.
“Yeah, tell ya what, Greedo … tell ya what. It’s not quite that simple. The loot is bolted into the frame of the Falcon here. Secret hiding place. Understand? Why don’t you come back tomorrow morning and I’ll hand it right over, easy as pie. How’s that sound?”
“Nvtuta bork te ptu motta. Tni snato.” No, get it right now. I’ll wait.
I’m not letting this gulley fish slip out of my grasp , Greedo thought … especially with Warhog watchin’ me from the shadows .
“I can’t get it right now. Listen, if you can wait till tomorrow, I’ll throw in a little bonus—a couple thousand credits just for you. How’s that sound?”
That sounded good.
“Prog mnete enyaz ftt sove shuss.” Make it four thousand credits.
“Four thousand? Are you crazy—? Oh, all right, ya got me over a barrel, pal. We’ll do it your way. Four thousand for you, first thing in the morning. It’s a deal.”
Without another word, Solo turned his back on the bounty hunter and began cleaning a spanner. He palmed the little blaster, just in case the green kid changed his mind. But a minute later Chewie gave his “all clear” grunt and Solo relaxed.
“Great, Chewie. Can you believe the nerve of that guy? Now we got to finish prepping the ship tonight . When that punk comes around tomorrow morning, all he’s going to find is a big grease spot on the hangar floor!”
Warhog Goa sipped a Starshine Surprise and glanced around the Mos Eisley Cantina. The bounty-hunter crowd was thinning out. A lot of hunters had gotten their contracts and jumped. Some of ’em were probably already stalking targets in the streets of cities a thousand parsecs away. “Solo doesn’t plan to pay you,” he said, looking at his protégé. “Don’t you get it? It’s a stall.”
Warhog noticed the two Rodians sitting in the booth near the entrance lobby. They nodded to him and
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