Star Wars_ The Han Solo Adventures - Brian Daley [222]
With a final tirade the Mission Commander gestured to the pyramidal cage. Until now Bollux had stood to one side of the proceedings, surrounded by gray-clad, masked Survivors who chanted and rattled prayer clackers at him, descendants of techs entrusted with maintenance of machinery.
But now the ’droid broke out of their ring, moving quickly to take advantage of the surprise he had caused. He crossed to stand with his back to the pyramid’s door. The Survivors who had been about to fetch their first victim for the “transmission” wavered, still awed by the automaton. The ’droid hadn’t been able to secure a weapon, a departure from Han’s vague plan, but felt that he could wait no longer to make his move. Even in the rush of events Han wondered about the origin of the Survivors’ reverence for mechanicals. Surely there had never been a ’droid or robot through these mountains before?
The Mission Commander was exhorting his followers. Bollux, his photoreceptors glowing red in the night, slowly opened the halves of his chest plastron. Blue Max, carefully coached by the labor ’droid, activated his own photoreceptor, playing it across the crowd. Han heard sounds of indrawn breath among the Survivors.
Max switched from optical scanning to holo-projection mode. A cone of light sprang from him; there hovered in the air an image he had recorded off Skynx’s tapes, the symbol of Xim the Despot, the grinning death’s head with the starburst in each black eye socket. From his vocoder came recorded tech readouts from the tapes in the language of the Survivors.
The crowd drew back, many of them thrusting their thumbs at Bollux to fend off evil. Max put forth more images he had taken from the information Skynx had compiled: an ancient fleet of space battlewagons in flight against the stars; the brilliance of a full-scale engagement with exploding missiles, flaring cannonfire, and probing lasers; battle standards passing in review, displaying unit colors that had been forgotten long ago. The entire time, the ’droid was surreptitiously edging to the pyramidal cage’s door. While the crowd was riveted to Max’s performance, Bollux manipulated the door’s handle behind his back.
A yell went up from the assembled Survivors just as Bollux succeeded in throwing the bolt on the stubborn lock. Blue Max had projected a halo of the war-robot’s cranial turret that Skynx had brought onboard the Millennium Falcon. Max held the image, capitalizing on their response, rotating it to show all sides. The Survivors jabbered animatedly among themselves, moving back from the frightening ghost-holo. Bollux stepped away from the cage door.
Max began running through all the other visual information he had stored about Xim’s war-robots. Schematics, manual-extracts, records of the ponderous combat machines in motion, closeup details of construction, and full-length views. All the while, Bollux moved slowly forward. Step by step the crowd yielded ground, seemingly hypnotized by Max’s projections. In the excitement and poor light nobody noticed that the cage door was now unlocked.
“He may not be able to hold them much longer,” Han whispered. Bollux was now at the center of a near-circle of Survivors.
“Time to jump,” Badure said.
Han agreed. “Make your way to the edge of the field. Nobody stops for anybody else, understood?”
Hasti, Badure, and even Skynx nodded. Unarmed, they could do little except run from the Survivors. Each individual would be responsible for his own life; stopping to give aid would be suicidal and expected of no one.
Han swung the door open slowly and stepped through. Shouting, gesticulating Survivors were still occupied with Bollux. The Mission Commander had left his rostrum to try to make his way through the crowd to Bollux, but was having trouble making headway through the press of his own people. Han waited while the others emerged.
Chewbacca slipped through the door