Star Wars_ Splinter of the Mind's Eye - Alan Dean Foster [39]
Luke gave Grammel a pitying look.
“Who are you!” Grammel screamed furiously, furious at his own helplessness to do anything but beg, an action he was unaccustomed to. “Why are you so important to him? Tell me, or I’ll have the woman dismembered before your eyes in spite of what Essada ordered! Tell me, tell me, tell me … unk!”
An enormous paw had shot through the bars and had Grammel by the throat … almost. With a desperate effort the Captain-Supervisor barely managed to pull free. Another paw reached after the first. An alert trooper had dropped to one knee and fired his rifle. Even though it was set for stun, the bolt which caught Kee in the side sent the Yuzzem tumbling across the floor. A scorched black streak showed on the thick fur. Kee rolled over, holding the burnt place, panting softly and staring through the bars. Hin moved to his injured companion and checked the wound, also glared frighteningly out at Grammel. Then he moved to the bars.
Grammel stood just out of the long reach, not smiling, as Hin lunged for his throat. A huge hand flailed at the air centimeters away while the Captain-Supervisor massaged his neck. The Yuzzem grabbed the bars, pulled in opposite directions, straining, straining.
Looking on with academic interest, Grammel reassured the subofficer standing next to him. “There’s no more danger, Puddra. They can’t break those bars. Not a dozen Yuzzem could.”
Despite this confidence it seemed that Hin, with a supreme effort, actually did bend one bar slightly. Then he gave up, gasping deeply. Holding the bars and shaking with rage, he gave Grammel a stare of naked hatred.
Grammel sighed a little in spite of himself. “See, I told you,” he confided to the subofficer.
“You’re all right, Captain-Supervisor?” the man inquired from behind his armor.
“Fine now, Puddra,” he assured the subordinate. He made a show of wrinkling his nose. “Except for the smell, of course.” He spoke easily to Luke: “You two must be special. Anyone who can stand the odor of a Yuzzem …” He made a face, shook his head in mock astonishment. “To exist in that stink for more than a few minutes requires some special quality.” Hin obliged by howling madly at the Captain-Supervisor. “Go ahead and rage,” Grammel told Hin pleasantly. “As soon as I can convince the mine director that you two aren’t worth the risk of rehabilitation for work, I’ll disassemble you personally. After having you thoroughly deodorized, of course.” He turned to leave.
As he did so, Hin made a strange sound. It was followed by a forceful phut from the long snout. The huge blob of spit struck Grammel on the back of the neck, just above the high collar. Wiping it away, the Captain-Supervisor growled viciously back over his shoulder.
“You grinning travesty of a man. Soon, very soon, I promise.” He gestured sharply to the troops, and they disappeared in a body up the corridor.
Hin left the bars, walked back to check on the Princess. She had fainted and Luke was supporting her with one arm. A grumble and Luke commented knowingly.
“Yes, he’s a prince, our jailer, isn’t he?”
By way of reply, Hin picked up a piece of gravel from the floor. Rolling it between two long fingers, he pulverized it effortlessly and let the dust trickle back to the ground.
“I hope you can do that to him someday, Hin,” Luke agreed, eying the Yuzzem. “Right now, though, I’m afraid our chances of getting out of here, let alone of getting to the Captain-Supervisor, aren’t very good.”
A moan, and the Princess reached out toward Luke. He caught her hands and she opened her eyes in surprise. An uncertain glance, then she saw the huge-eyed Hin staring at her curiously.
“I’m sorry, Luke.” He helped her to her feet. “The thought of going through an Imperial interrogation again … I lost control.”
“That’s understandable. You won’t go through another session. I’ll see to that.”
She smiled at him. Why discourage such confidence with mere facts?
Luke had moved to the single window, was testing the bars with exploratory pulls. “They’re