Star Wars - Tales From The Mos Eisley Cantina

by Kevin J. Anderson

  "I didn't think so," Shada said. "Mish kom."

  And in the blink of an eye, it was all over. Cai, coming in

  from behind the Hammertong, had Riij's blaster. And Riij. "What do

  you want me to do with him?" she asked, handing the blaster to

  Shada.

  Shada looked at Riij, half bent over in Cai's grip. "Let him

  go," she said. "He can't stop us now. Anyway, he's sort of on our

  side."

  "If you say so," Cai said, releasing her hold on his arm.

  "We're ready to go as soon as you are."

  "All right." Shada pursed her lips. "Riij, can you beat the

  storm in that airspeeder you had aboard the transport?"

  He nodded. "If I can get going in the next few minutes."

  "Fine. Cai, get it unloaded. And then you or Karoly get Deefour

  aboard and get the ships ready to fly."

  "Got it." With one last look at Riij, Cai headed for the

  hatchway.

  Riij was still standing there, looking at Shada. "I'm sorry the

  deal's fallen through," she told him, trying to ignore the pang of

  guilt twisting through her stomach. He'd risked a lot for them,

  and it looked as if he were going to wind up with nothing. "Look,

  if you can get back in here after the storm, you're more than wel

  come to what's left of the Hammertong."

  "Let me make you a counteroffer," Riij said. "Join us. You've

  already said we're on the same side."

  Shada shook her head. "We're barely making it ourselves. We

  don't have the time or the resources to take on the galaxy's

  problems. Not now."

  "If you wait too long, there may not be anyone left to fight

  with you," he warned.

  "I understand," she said. "I guess it's a chance we'll have to

  take. Good-bye. And good luck."

  The sand was shaking the transport's hull by the time Shada

  finished double-checking the Hammertong's restraints and made it

  back up to the bridge. "We all set?" she asked Karoly as she

  strapped herself in.

  "Yes. Riij get off all right?"

  Shada nodded. "Looks as if just in time, too."

  Karoly threw her a sideways look. "I'm not sure it was such a

  good idea to let him go."

  "If we start killing anyone who gets in our way, we're no

  better than any other mercenaries," Shada said. "Besides, he

  doesn't like the Empire any more than we do."

  The comm pinged. "I'm ready," Cai's voice came.

  "Same here," Shada told her. "Is Deefour all settled in?"

  "Deefour?" Cai echoed. "Didn't Karoly take him?"

  "I thought you had him," Karoly said.

  For a long moment she and Shada just stared at each other.

  Then, with a muttered curse, Shada jabbed at the comm panel.

  "Riij? Riij, come in."

  There was a hiss of sand-driven static; and then the other's

  voice came faindy over the speaker. "This is Riij," he said.

  "Thanks for the loan of your droid. I'll leave him with the Bothan

  shipping company on Piroket; you can have him back when you return

  the freighter."

  Anodier crackle of static and he was gone. "You want me to go

  after him?" Cai asked.

  Deefour, with a complete technical readout on the Hammertong .

  . . "No," Shada told her, smiling in spite of herself at Riij's

  ingenuity. "No, it's all right. We owe him that much. And if he's

  right, he and his friends are going to need all the help and

  information they can get."

  Her smile faded. "D.S. Mark 2" the plate on the Hammertong had

  said. Death Star, Mark 2, perhaps? A second generation of this

  thing Riij was so afraid of?

  It could be. And if so, the Mistryl might have to seriously

  consider that offer to join up with the Rebel Alliance.

  And if not all of the Mistryl, perhaps Shada would do so on her

  own. Maybe there she would find something she could truly believe

  in.

  But in the meantime, she had a package to deliver. "Fire up the

  repulsorlifts," she told the others. "Let's go home."

  Play It Again, Figrin D'An The Tale of Muftak and Kabe

  by A. C. Crispin

  Muftak whiffed the chilly, moist air with his short, tubular

  proboscis, testing it, trying to determine whether it was safe. As

  he sniffed, the huge four-eye searched the street for infrared

  afterimages with his night-eyes, the larger, lower pair in his

  furry visage. Here, in the older part of Mos Eisley spaceport, the

  darkness was nearly absolute, only lightened by the tiny gray half-

  moon scuttling overhead.

  Gesturing to his small companion, Kabe, to stay behind him, the

  shaggy giant crept forward to a better vantage point behind a

  large garbage receptacle. As he scanned, his four black ball-

  bearing eyes gleamed in the darkness of his face. Automatically,

  his olfactory organ filtered out the stench of the rotting

  garbage, the rankness of unwashed bodies, both alien and human,

  and the sharp, musky scent of his Chadra-Fan friend and

  accomplice.

  No one here recently. He waved a massive, fur-covered paw at

  his companion. "Come on," he rumbled, "the sandtroopers are gone."

  Kabe scampered out, her fanlike ears and little snout twitching

  indignantly. "I could have told you that long ago!" she scolded,

  in her squeaky, double-time voice. "You are so cursed slow,

  Muftak! Slower than a bantha, that's for sure. We'll never reach

  home before daybreak! And I'm tired."

  Muftak gazed down at her, patiently enduring her tirade. Kabe,

  despite all her streetwise sophistication, was still a child. He'd

  adopted her when he'd found the baby Chadra-Fan wandering the

  streets. "We must be extra cautious," he reminded her. "Imperial

  troops are everywhere. The sooner we reach hom e, the safer we'll

  be. Let's go."

  Kabe subsided sulkily, and started after him. "Why're they

  here, that's what I'd like to know. Do you know, Muftak?" She

  didn't wait for a reply, and the four-eye held his peace. Muftak

  knew a great deal about the comings and goings in Mos Eisley, but

  generally, he only divulged what he knew for a price. "Ships

  landing all night!" she complained. "What the hell is going on,

  anyway? The Hutt's hiring them, that's what it is. He's going to

  cut us out completely. And if he won't take us back, we'll have to

  beg!"

  Muftak emitted an exasperated buzzing sound. "The Bloated One

  isn't part of this. This is Imperial business."

  Kabe's sharp little face blazed in Muftak's infrared vision,

  and he saw her expression change. "Can't we go to the cantina

  today?" she demanded, changing the subject. "Spacers go there,

  drunk spacers with fat pockets. Last time we were there we ate for

  a week on what I lifted. Please, Muftak?"

  "Kabe." Muftak sighed, a faint humming noise in the stillness.

  "I'm not so stupid as all that. I know you never miss a good

  pocket, but the real reason you want to go to the cantina is for

  juri juice." Absently, the four-eye inspected the twisty alleyways

  that opened onto the street. "Two cups and I'll have to carry you

  home . . . the way I always do."

  Kabe's only response t
o this truism was an audible sniff.

  Dawn came rapidly on Tatooine, and the desert sky was already

  taking on the faint silver sheen that presaged the rising of the

  suns. Muftak lengthened his, strides, tempted to pick Kabe up

  bodily and really hurry. It was his fault they were so late.

  Expert thieves though they were, neither Kabe's skill with

  electronics nor Muftak' s great strength had prevailed against the

  new time-lock devices that all the Imperial hangars now bore.

  Worse, one of the sandtroopers had spotted them ... but humans had

  very poor night vision, and, to them, all exotic aliens tended to

  run together. In the dark, Muftak hoped, he could Ve been mistaken

  for a Wookiee or one of the other large bipeds. Kabe was about the

  same size as a Jawa.

  Stealing Imperial property was extremely risky - but these

  days, there was little else they could do. Any pay off would have

  justified their effort, given them the wherewithal to buy back

  their burglary franchise (lost due to an ill-advised bit of

  pickpocketry by Kabe) from the Hutt. Everything of value that

  didn't belong to the Empire either belonged to or had been

  declared off-limits by Jabba - and nobody was crazy enough to

  cross the Hutt crime lord.

  In order to reach "home" - a tiny cubicle in a section of

  abandoned tunnels beneath Docking Bay 83- they had to pass through

  the marketplace. Risky, but they had no choice.

  Kabe bounced as she walked, half skipping, her restless energy

  undepleted despite their night's labors. Muftak shuffled rapidly,

  though he felt almost too weary to place one huge, padded foot

  before the other. Suddenly, the tops of the whitewashed domes

  gleamed; moments later, everything was splashed with gold. The

  first sun was rising. Muftak instinctively switched over to his

  day-eyes, obscuring some details, revealing others. They passed a

  street vendor setting up for the day, then another.

  Mos Eisley was a hellhole at best, and recent changes made

  survival even more uncertain. The increasing Imperial presence

  added an unpleasant new dimension to Jabba's corrupt regime.

  Muftak's and Kabe's lives had never been easy; the two of them had

  scrabbled for years to eke out a living. Now, with the Senate's

  inaction, things were growing worse. Previously, the four-eye had

  shared his little friend's indifference to politics, not caring

  who was in power, as long as they let him alone,

  But the sandtroopers were even worse than the Hutt's thugs.

  Cold, cruel, brutal, they were like killing droids. Hundreds-maybe

  thousands-had been arriving during the last two days to enforce

  the will of that ancient, rotting Emperor who lived far, far away.

  Tightening the Empire's grip on my world . . .

  Bzzzzz. Muftak's remote laughter echoed in his head like a

  dancing bee. My world? Ridiculous! Bzzzzz . . .

  Since there were no other creatures on Tatooine even remotely

  like him, Muftak knew only too well that this was not his home

  world. When he'd awakened that day long ago, standing beside his

  shredded cocoon, he'd figured that his people had originated on

  another world-which one, he had no idea. He'd spent a lifetime

  searching for information about himself, and, in the process, had

  learned much about Tatooine, its deserts so different from the

  lush paradise of his dreams. Knowledge, the four-eye found, was

  power, of sorts. Denizens of Mos Eisley knew that if you wanted

  information about almost any activity or person on Tatooine, you

  went to see Muftak.

  Since he'd "adopted" Kabe, an orphan like himself, the big

  alien's hazy dream-memories had receded into the background. For

  all practical purposes, Tatooine was his world.

  The second sun was rising as they made their way through the

  main square of the marketplace. It was already getting hot, and

  Muftak felt his dew-wet, diaphanous fur drying out. Reaching the

  main street, the pair turned west, toward their little burrow,

  trying to hurry without looking suspicious. The fences were set

  ting up quickly and efficiently, displaying freshly stolen booty.

  Muftak glanced nervously at several blasters, priced well beyond

  his means, trying to look as though he had nothing better in the

  world to do than shop. Kabe skittered about, muttering to herself,

  whiffing the air, then squinching up her muzzle with disdain.

  "Look at that trash." She snorted. "If you'd let me rob Jabba's

  town house, I'd give them some real stuff to fence. It'd be a

  snap, and we'd be set up for life."

  This was such an old argument Muftak didn't bother to reply.

  The Hutt was currently occupying his desert palace, but his

  residence in Mos Eisley was still fully guarded. The four-eye

  lengthened his stride. Sanctuary lay just ahead ...

  Suddenly a mechanical-sounding voice barked, "You there, Talz,

  halt!" The voice belonged to an Imperial soldier.

  Hastily, Muftak obeyed, then turned, slowly and ponderously, to

  face, the sentry. As he did so, he was careful to conceal Kabe's

  small form with his huge body. Knowing the plan, she darted off

  and ducked behind a public dew collector. Signaling to her behind

  his back to stay out of sight, Muftak faced the white-armored

  human.

  Only then did it strike him ... the word the trooper had used.

  "Talz." What was a Talz? Slowly he felt the truth sink in, like

  moisture in the desert. The Imperial trooper must have recognized

  his species! The word "Talz" reverberated through Muftak's mind,

  his heart. Talz . . . yes! It was part of the meaningless

  vocabulary he had found in his brain after his "birth." Talz means

  me. I am a Talz!

  Muftak shook his head, pushing this revelation to the back of

  his mind. There was a more immediate dilemma to face. The

  sandtrooper, blaster drawn, was staring at him, waiting. Muftak

  let the air filter out slowly from his proboscis, humming a

  little. "Yes, Officer. What can I do for you?"

  "We are looking for two droids, one bipedal and the other

  wheeled, traveling unaccompanied. Have you seen them?"

  Not looking for us, no, by the Force, not looking for us.

  Looking for those two droids, like all the others . . . "No, sir.

  I haven't seen any droids this morning. But if I do, Officer, I'll

  let you know."

  "See that you do. All right, Talz, on your way." As the trooper

  began to turn away, curiosity overcame Muftak's caution. "Excuse

  me, sir," he began, scratching his head nervously. "I noticed that

  you seem to recognize-''

  There was a whooshing sound and an aircar appeared from around

  a corner. As it approached, Muftak saw two Imperial troopers, one

  dressed in the blue uniform and short-billed cap of an officer.

  The Talz took a cautious step back, but resisted the urge to run.

  The sentry snapped to attention as the aircar stopped.

  The officer, a pale, sagging man with a supercilious air,

  inclined his head briefly and commanded, "Your report, Trooper

  Felth." His words sounded lifeless, barel
y different from the

  mechanically filtered voice of Felth.

  "Nothing to report, Lieutenant Alima. It's been very quiet,

  sir." Muftak tensed. He recognized that name. His friend Momaw

  Nadon had told him about a Captain Alima, the butcher who'd

  decimated the hammerhead's home world. Could this be the same man?

  His rank was different, but . . .

  "Interrogate everyone you see, Felth. Don't take any chance

  with this local scum . . . and keep your blaster ready. These

  bastards will as soon kill you as look at you."

  "Yes, Lieutenant."

  "What about that one?" Alima drew his pistol and pointed it at

  Muftak. "An ugly bug . . . has he seen the droids?"

  "No, sir."

  Muftak gathered his courage. Things were becoming very

  interesting. Worth a little risk. "Sir, respected representative

  of our beloved Empire, I am well connected in the more . . . shall

  we say, obscure . . . sections of Mos Eisley. It would be my

  pleasure to uncover this information for you, if I can."

  The officer's eyes were very dark as he stared hard at the

  Talz. "See that you do, four-eyes. Now get on about your business.

  Don't dawdle . . . off with you!"

  Kabe was only a little distance away, still hiding behind the

  dew collector, and Muft ak walked in that direction without looking

  back. As he passed, the little one joined him, chattering happily.

  "They let you go! I thought they had us, didn't you? What

  happened?"

  "They weren't looking for us, Kabe. Just two unlucky droids.

  But something very . . . important happened. A chance encounter.

  That trooper knew who . . . what ... I am. I am a Talz! Kabe . . .

  this may be the clue I've been looking for."

  The Chadra-Fan looked up at Muftak, squinting her little eyes

  against the morning sun. "But, but . . . you're not going away,

  now, are you? You can't go. We need each other. We're partners,

  aren't we?"

  Muftak gazed down at his friend, feeling a strange emotion, a

  distant tugging that he had never felt before. Gigantic hanging

  purple flowers filled his mind's eye. He scraped a claw across his

  domed forehead. "Don't worry, little one. I'd never leave you

  alone. Right now, we're going back to get some sleep. Then I have

  some inquiries to make . . . and before evening, I must go to

  Momaw Nadon's house, find out if he knows anything about the race