Star Wars_ Tales From Jabba's Palace - Kevin J. Anderson [39]
“That’s it,” the stranger encouraged her.
“Sienn!” Oola hissed. Sienn scrambled past her.
Luke touched Sienn’s shoulder, resting one hand on silky yellow fabric. “Hurry,” he urged. Backing out of the sweltering shelter, he eyed Oola again. She fancied that he pitied her. “Won’t you let me help you? You won’t get a second … chance. Do you know ‘chance’?”
Even as Oola felt the tug of his influence, her pride and jealousy flared. “We’ve been chosen to dance in Jabba’s palace,” she insisted, “the grandest on Tatooine. We’re a pair. We go to Jabba together.”
“It’s the grandest on Tatooine, all right,” Luke admitted. He draped his cloak over Sienn. “But I have”—again the “bizz-ness” word she couldn’t translate—”there. It won’t be pleasant. Jabba’s palace isn’t what you think.”
Abruptly Oola remembered stormtroopers at the spaceport, searching incoming ships … for someone. She stared at the crouched figure in his rough but dignified black. Built like a dancer, he moved with controlled energy. And he still held her knife. She hadn’t seen much of the galaxy, but she knew how to piece clues together. She made a swift guess. “Are you the one the Empire is looking for? At the spaceport?”
Luke shrugged. He glanced over his shoulder. “Probably. We have to hurry. Come on. I’ll set you free.”
Free? On this planet? What kind of life would that be?
She’d tried to reconcile herself to slavery. But freedom was better than servitude, even in the finest palace.
Then again … Oola envisioned herself lying on soft tufted cushions, savoring the finest raw fungi, summoning energy for another glorious dance. She thought of the thunderous praises she’d win. She hesitated.
Jabba was the wealthiest gangster in a hundred worlds.
“Please come,” Luke whispered. “Jabba will k—”
“Hey!” shouted a familiar voice. “Get away from those girls!”
Oola peered out from under the sail toward the street. Rudd had reappeared around the corner of one blocky building. Bib Fortuna hung back, looking as darkly elegant as ever with his high bony crest and thick lekku. Protruding from his cloak, half-gloves and studded wristbands set off his long, clawed fingers. She’d found his hands fascinating, that fateful night back at home.
He was temptation.
He was evil, she realized with a shock that almost leveled her. Evil.
Rudd held his blaster at the ready. “All right, you. You’re asking for it. That’s Jabba’s property.”
“I don’t care much for Jabba.” Luke thrust Sienn behind him. Slightly shielded, she plunged toward better cover. A crushed nose cone jutted out of the debris pile. Sienn dove behind it. Luke pressed into the nearest alcove and shoved at what looked like a door. It didn’t open.
Oola cringed.
“Hah!” Rudd fired. His shot splattered into sand just behind Luke’s left leg. The sand melted into a glassy puddle. “I’m not killing you yet,” he jeered. “First, you’re going to learn not to tinker with Jabba’s belongings.”
Luke flattened against the building. His face looked deadly calm. Fortuna had warned her: please Jabba, and she’d reap the finest rewards. Cross him, and expect worse than her worst imaginings.
Jabba must be evil too. She had to stop this. Somehow. What could she do?
Finally Luke seized the strange object at his belt and unhooked it, then held it out two-handed. To Oola’s astonishment, a glowing green shaft appeared at one end. Luke stepped out of the doorway toward Rudd. The step dropped him into a deep dueling stance, and he wielded the glimmering weapon with long, strong sweeps of his arms and shoulders. The weapon’s weird metallic hum changed pitch as he swung it. Blaster bolts deflected in all directions. Not one touched him. Oola gaped. He wasn’t just built like a dancer. He moved like one.
His’ head turned. “Go!” he shouted at Sienn. “Run!” That was for Oola.
Oola hesitated. Rudd had seen Luke. As Oola understood, Luke had to kill him now. He was hiding from the Empire.
What about Master Fortuna?
“Stop that!” Rudd crouched.