Star Wars_ The Han Solo Adventures - Brian Daley [173]
Han pulled his blaster. The main hatch rolled up, and at the ramp’s foot waited the Brigian. He was taller than Hissal, broadly built for his species, his color a little darker than average. He wore a chrome-studded battle harness, rhinestone shoulderboards with dangling brushes at the ends, several colorful aiguillettes, a salad of decorations, and impressive, red-sequined spats. A plume bobbed from his tilting helmet.
Han beckoned warily. The creature marched up the ramp, the scroll tucked under one arm. Han stopped him at the head of the ramp. “Shuck the harness and the tin lid and toss them back down.”
The creature complied. “Welcome to our fair planet, fellow biped,” he said with an-effort at heartiness. “I am Inspector Keek, Chief of the Internal Security Police of the very progress-minded New Regime of Brigia.” He cast his harness and helmet away with a racket of clanking metal.
“I figured you weren’t the Boosters’ Club,” Han said wryly, making the inspector raise long, skinny arms high. He cautiously poked at the security chief’s lateral folds to make sure he had no hidden weapons there. Keek wriggled. This close, Han could read Keek’s medals. Either these, too, had been obtained secondhand, he thought, or the inspector was also spelling champ of the planet Oor VII.
“All right, into the forward compartment there. Best behavior now; I’ve had all the games I’m going to play today.”
Entering the forward compartment, Keek gazed without comment at Hissal, who was seated in an acceleration chair near the holo-gameboard. The inspector found his own seat by the tech station. Bollux had seated himself on the curved acceleration couch behind the gameboard.
Han rested one hip on the gleaming gameboard. “Now, what’s the hitch? I’ve got my clearances. The Imperials aren’t going to be too happy about you local enforcers trying to hijack an authorized shipment.”
Keek spoke with forced jocularity, “Ah, you scaredy-norg human. Nothing’s wrong! The benevolent Inner Council held an emergency session when word of this transaction reached them and placed all teaching materials and off-world literature on the restricted list.” He waved the beribboned scroll. “I have here the Edict, which I am to present to you.”
“And just who’s the flaming Inner Council? Listen, slim, no little slowpoke world alters Imperial trade agreements.” That he himself had often broken Imperial laws—shattered them to fragments would be more accurate—was something he chose not to mention.
“We are merely here, my troops and I,” Keek replied evenly, “to take temporary custody of the cargo in question, until a Tion representative and an Imperial adjudicator can be summoned. The arrests were strictly an internal matter.”
And the Tion representative and the Imperial adjudicator would undoubtedly come with price tags attached, Han reflected. “So who pays me?”
Keek attempted to smile; he looked preposterous. “Our supply of Imperial currency is depleted just now, due to repairs to our spacefleet. But our Treasury’s note, or our planetary currency—”
“No play money!” Han exploded. “I want my cargo back. And besides, one run-down gunboat is no spacefleet.”
“Impossible. The cargo is evidence for the trial of certain seditionists, one of whom you’ve been deceived into sheltering. Come, Captain; cooperate, and you’ll be well received here.” Keek winked, with effort. “Come! We’ll pass intoxicating liquids through our bodies and boast of our sporting abilities! Let us be jolly and clumsy, as humans love to be!”
Han, who hated being played for a sucker worse than anything, gritted his teeth. “I told you already, I don’t want any of your homemade cash—”
A sudden thought struck him, and he jumped up. “You want part of my cargo? Keep it! But I’m going to come across to Hissal with what’s left.”
The security chief seemed amused. “You seek to extort me with educational materials? Come, Captain; we’re both worldly chaps.”
Han