Star Wars_ Tales From the Mos Eisley Cantina - Kevin J. Anderson [44]
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 home, 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 to 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 payoff 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,