Star Wars_ Splinter of the Mind's Eye - Alan Dean Foster [24]
Two of the men pulled Leia off Luke. That provided them with a good glimpse of her for the first time. Their initial amusement abruptly shifted as less pleasant emotions surfaced.
“Well now,” murmured a barrel-chested individual with a Manchu mustache. “This is no ’droid servant, that’s for sure.”
Leia became aware of the miners’ stares. Several buckles and straps on the tight-fitting clothes had come undone while she’d been wrestling with Luke. Despite the coating of mud over them, their exposed areas were drawing an uncomfortable amount of attention. She felt as if something was crawling all over her under her clothing.
Ignoring the mud and trying to draw the loose ends of her attire together, she drew herself up regally, announced with shaky dignity, “Thank you very much. This is a private matter. Now, if you’ll all be so kind as to leave us to settle our differences.”
“Thank you very much, this is a private matter,” one of the men echoed in a mincing tone. The others guffawed. The one with the beard leered down at her.
“You’re not a registered citizen, lady-love.” He indicated her shoulder. “No name tag, nothing. Fighting in a public street’s against the law. Mine law says we got to apprehend anyone breaking the law when and where we can. C’mere and lemme apprehend you.” He reached out a massive paw.
Backing up a quick step, the Princess continued to glare at them, but her confidence was seeping away like snow on a stove.
“I can’t tell you who I am, but if any of you put a hand on me, you’ll answer for it.”
Barrel-chest moved closer. There was no humor in his voice and he did not smile at her. “Little mudhen, I’ll put more than a hand on you.…”
A slim form interposed itself between the Princess and her would-be apprehender. “Look, this is a private argument and we can finish it ourselves, friend.”
“I ain’t your friend, sonny,” the man said evenly, putting out a hand and shoving Luke backward. “Stay out of this. Your argument ain’t important anymore.”
The Princess let out a startled exclamation. One of the other men had slipped up behind her and had grabbed her around the chest with his left arm. Luke stepped over quickly, brought the edge of his palm down hard on the other’s wrist. Letting out a hurt yelp, the miner stepped back, holding his wrist.
It had grown deathly silent on the street. All eyes were focused on Luke now, not on the Princess. The only sounds in the mist came from the distant jungle.
“Sonny boy wants to play,” snickered the man whose wrist Luke had clipped. “Resistin’ public apprehension.” He flicked his right forearm. There was a clicking sound and a double-bladed stiletto slid out from under his coverall sleeve. The flat of the blades lay flush against the back of his fist. Faded light from the shielded tavern windows reflected ominously off both blades as the man started moving in a low crouch toward Luke.
The Princess said nothing, just stared. So did Halla, Threepio, and Artoo from the safety of the shadows.
“Come on, sonny,” the man urged, gesturing with his unarmed hand for Luke to approach. Then he flicked the weapon, and twin blades flashed out of his empty sleeve. He kicked his right leg, then his left. Double blades protruded from each boot sole. “Come on, let’s dance. I’ll make it last.”
Trying to watch all eight blades at once, Luke tried to distract his attacker. “The lady and I were discussing something. We don’t need any outside involvement.”
“Too late, sonny,” the man grinned. “You and I are involved, now.” His companions were watching and chuckling, occasionally nudging one another. They were obviously enjoying every second of the action.
Jumping forward, the knife-wielder swung at Luke with his left hand, followed up the miss as Luke moved back with a spinning side kick, then swung around in an arc, reaching with his right hand. The double