Star Wars_ Tales of the Bounty Hunters - Kevin J. Anderson [82]
Chen shambled in first and sat down. Bossk arrived smelling like disinfectant. “Ah. Thank you, Human.”
“Is that enough?”
He sat down in front of the wriggling red mess. “For now. Friend Chenlambec, you aren’t eating.”
Chen stared at his plate, blinking and wrinkling his nose.
Tinian cursed her thoughtlessness. Of course the ship smelled foul to him. Bossk had been skinning two Wookiees. How could Chen eat? Tinian dished herself a platter of cloned saltlicker ribs, then sat down. She had to act hearty. Cheerful. Determined.
“What did he say?” Bossk asked.
“Too much excitement.” Tinian stripped the meat from a rib with her teeth and added, with her mouth full, “he’ll calm down and eat later. Listen, Bossk, things look good down there. Between Wookiees, we picked up a scanner confirmation of two human life forms. One corresponds exactly with the last known readout on Han Solo.”
“Did you record it?”
“Of course.” She had loaded that data into the Pup’s main computer while Chen took out the guard tower. Like the other data chip, Chen had bought this one “from a friend.”
“I have come up with a plan for live capture,” Bossk announced.
“Act glad,” Tinian woofed at Chenlambec.
Chen lifted a rib, glared at it, curled back his lips, and growled. Then he stuffed it into his mouth and chewed.
“Tell us what you want us to do,” Tinian said.
“I will drop out of orbit and draw off the freighter,” Bossk answered. “You will neutralize the safe world’s defenses. We will run a two-pronged feint and attack.”
Then, Chen guessed out loud, Bossk would abandon them.
“He says,” put in Tinian, “that the Pup isn’t armed heavily enough to do the defenses much damage.”
“It will be soon,” Bossk answered. Chen ordered her to argue.
“We could do you more good on board the Hound,” offered Tinian. “She’s a good ship.”
“I won’t leave you two alone on her.”
Tinian had heard human children prattle. She imitated one she had particularly disliked. “I don’t suppose you’re willing to leave Chenlambec alone on her and fly down with me. And you and Chen wouldn’t fit onto the Pup very well. What about sending Chen down, and leaving me—”
“Stop,” said Bossk. “I trust you enough to arm the Pup. This is merely the best way of accomplishing our mission.”
“All right,” Tinian whined.
After filling his belly with live meat, Bossk ordered Tinian onto watch. He locked Chenlambec into their cabin, rechecked the Hound’s security lock, and then finished skinning the second Wookiee. It was stiff, now: rigor had set in. He lifted the finished pelt, draping the moist, satiny underside over both forearms, and gently slid it into his dip tank. It vanished, bubbling, into the tanning fluid. Delighted by the unexpected two-pelt bonus, he airlocked the meat. Wookiee tasted oily and foul.
He returned to the skinning bay. “ExTen-Dee,” he called, “unload the Pup’s weaponry.”
The bronze-and-crimson droid rolled forward, reached out his long grasping arms, and unlocked a cargo compartment. Holding one huge, tube-shaped weapon at two-meter arm’s distance, he swiveled around and grasped the other massive tube. Balanced now, he raised both arms and rolled up the main passage. Bossk followed.
Inside the docking bay, the Pup let off odd pops as it cooled. Working late with X10-D’s help, he reinstalled the Pup’s guns. Then he sent X10-D back to the cargo bay for two items that mustn’t be jarred. Several minutes later, X10-D returned at a measured crawl. He held his arms fully extended to their three-meter length. His left hand carried a small canister. He held his right arm high to keep from dragging an enormous oblong torpedo.
Bossk stood beside the Pup’s launch tube. “Load it,” he ordered. “Use full caution.”
X10-D slid the huge flame carpet warhead down the tube, then sidled up against the Pup’s exterior to perform lockdown and pre-arming operations.
Bossk flicked his