Star Wars_ The Han Solo Adventures - Brian Daley [39]
The man’s mind worked quickly. “We’re leaving?” he was asking, even as he stepped through the door.
“Presently,” Rekkon replied, gesturing over to where Blue Max sat linked to the data system. “We’ll soon have the data we require. Captain Solo there and his first mate, Chewbacca, will be transporting us offworld when we’re ready. Gentlemen, may I present Torm, one of my companions.”
Torm, his poise recovered now, inclined his head to the two, then went over to inspect Blue Max. Han followed; someone in this band might be an informer, and he wanted to acquaint himself with each one of them, to do all he could to safeguard himself and his ship.
“Not very impressive, is it?” Torm asked, staring down at Max.
“Not too,” Han answered fake-pleasantly.
A nod from Torm. “You think Rekkon’ll find what he’s looking for?” Han asked. “I mean, this long shot’s your only hope of finding your folks, right? Or shouldn’t I ask?”
Torm fastened a frank gaze on him. “It is a personal matter, Captain. But since your own safety is at stake, I suppose you’re within your rights. Yes, if I can’t locate my father and brother in this way, I’ll have no idea how to proceed. We’ve fixed all our hopes on Rekkon’s theory.” For a moment he glanced over to Rekkon, who was showing Chewbacca features of the room’s equipment. “I didn’t throw in with him lightly, but when I saw that the Authority was dragging its feet in its investigations, and my own inquiries led me to him, I knew I must commit myself to follow Rekkon’s belief.”
Torm’s voice had drifted as his thoughts had. Now he came back to himself. “It’s most unselfish, very admirable of you, Captain Solo, to take on this mission. Not many men would willingly risk—”
“Jet back: you got it all wrong,” Han interrupted. “I’m here ‘cause I struck a deal, Torm. I’m strictly a businessman. I fly for money and I look out for number one, clear?”
Torm reappraised him. “Quite. Thank you for clarifying that, Captain. I stand corrected.”
The door was sounding again. This time, Rekkon admitted two of his co-conspirators. There were Trianii, members of a humanoid species of feline. One was an adult female, trim and supple, who stood just about the height of Han’s chin. Her eyes were very large, yellow, with vertical slits of green iris. Her pelt, a varied, striped pattern along her back and sides, lightened to a soft, creamy color on face, throat, and torso front. It tufted out to a thick mane around her head, neck, and shoulders. Behind her curled and swayed a meter of restive tail, mixing the colors of her pelt. She wore the only clothing her species required, a belt at her hips to support loops and pouches for her tools, instruments, and other items. Rekkon introduced this being as Atuarre.
With Atuarre was her cub, Pakka. He was a miniature copy of his mother, standing half her height, but his coloring was darker, and he wasn’t as slender or as graceful. He still had some of the fuzzier fur and baby fat of cubhood, but his wide eyes seemed to hold an adult’s wisdom and sorrow. Though his mother spoke, Pakka said nothing. Then Han recalled Rekkon’s saying the cub had been a mute since enduring Authority custody. Like his parent, Pakka wore a belt and pouches.
Atuarre pointed a slim, clawed finger at Han and Chewbacca. “What are they doing here?”
“They’re here to aid our escape,” Rekkon explained. “They brought the computer element I needed to extract the final data. The only one yet to arrive is Engret; I couldn’t contact him, but left a message on his recorder with the code word for him to contact me.”
Atuarre seemed agitated. “Engret