Free Star Wars - Han Solo and the Lost Legacy by Brian Daley Page B

at his shoulder; it was Bollux. “I noticed this altercation, sir. Shall I continue to outload our cargo?”
    That meant Hasti was away. Badure heard and understood. “Get everything back onboard until this son of contaminated genes, this landlord, bargains reasonably.”
    “Unthinkable!” screamed the landlord. “You have already made use of my precious building and diverted me from my other pursuits. A settlement must be made; I hereby hold your cargo against the arrival of the Fact-Finders.” He and Badure swapped deadly oaths.
    The landlord called the old man a horrible name. Skynx, quivering in excitement, immersed himself in the spirit of the thing, antennae trembling. “Devourer of eggs!”
    Everyone stopped, glancing at the diminutive Ruurian, who swallowed, appalled at his rash outburst. The landlord departed, along with much of the crowd, hurling back epithets and leaving his cousins to guard the outbuilding. From somewhere, the cousins had produced bolt-operated slug rifles with hexagonal barrels and long, lens-type scopes.
    Back onboard the
Falcon
, Badure threw himself into a chair. “That landlord! What a freighter bum he’d have made!”
    Han grabbed Bollux. “What happened?”
    “The men guarding the building entrance kept looking through the door after me as I deposited the cargo. It was some time before they became bored and gave all their attention over to Badure’s performance and Skynx’s appearance. Hasti was no longer in her crate, and the inner doorwas unbarred. At Blue Max’s suggestion I resecured the door.”
    “Tell Maxie he’s a good boy,” Badure said. “I like you two; you’ve got a touch of larceny in you.”
    Bollux’s chest plastron swung open, the halves coming apart like cabinet doors. Blue Max’s photoreceptor lit up. “Thanks, Badure,” he said, sounding smug. Han told himself.
I should keep an eye on that computer or he’ll end up wearing juvie-gang colors and packing a vibro-shiv
.
    Just at that moment, Skynx appeared with Chewbacca, who had just left the cockpit. The Wookiee was holding the metallic flask of vacuum-distilled jet juice the partners kept under the control console for special occasions. “Skynx,” Badure said, “I think it’s time to strike up the band.”
    Skynx flowed to the acceleration couch and on up into his nook. He began taking objects from his treelike storage rack. “If you have no further tasks for us, sir,” Bollux told Han, “Max and I would like to continue our study of Skynx’s tapes.”
    “Whatever you want, old-timer.”
    Bollux crossed to the tech station, where he and the computer resumed their perusal of the ancient records Skynx had brought along. The labor ’droid, who had worked his way across the galaxy and had already outlived one body, possessed an almost sentient streak of curiosity, and Blue Max was always ready to absorb new information. The two mechanicals were particularly interested in technical data and other references to the giant war-robots of long-dead Xim.
    Skynx, sitting up on his rearmost two sets of limbs, took and held a miniature amplified hammer dulcimer in the next set and two hammers in each digital cluster of the next. He strapped a pair of tympanic pulsers around himself, tapping experimentally with the digits of his next-higher limbs. Above those he fastened a pair of small bellows to pump air to a horn held in his uppermost-but-one set of extremities. In the uppermost he took up a flute of sorts and tried a few runs. The sound was like the wind cones Han remembered fromhis own homeworld. He wondered what kind of brain could coordinate all that activity.
    Skynx launched into a merry air, full of sudden runs, bright interplay and humorous progressions, and impudent catches made to sound as if the instruments or Skynx’s limbs were getting out of hand and taking their own course. The Ruurian made a great pretense of distress and bewilderment and a desperate effort to bring his extremities