Star Wars_ The Han Solo Adventures - Brian Daley [64]
He saw a chance to solve two problems at once: how to get Bollux out of the match and how to get a look around Stars’ End on his own. “Uh, honored Viceprex, I’m also gaffer for the troupe. I have to tell you, our gladiator ’droid, Annihilator there, was damaged in his last match. His auxiliary management circuitry needs to be checked. If I could use your shop, it’d only take a few minutes. You and your wife could enjoy the other performances in the meantime.”
Hirken looked up at the stars through the dome and sighed, while his wife giggled and seconded the proposal. “Very well. But make these repairs quickly, Marksman. I’m not much taken with acrobats or dancing.”
“Sure, right.”
The Viceprex summoned a tech supervisor who had been checking the amphitheater’s systems and explained to the man what was needed. Then he offered his arm, unwillingly, to his wife. They went to find seats in the amphitheater, with the Espo major and his men ranging themselves around in a loose guard formation. Uul-Rha-Shan, with a last, menacing look at Han, followed along, again positioning himself near Hirken’s right.
Since Pakka’s acrobatics and Atuarre’s dancing would pose no danger to the audience, Hirken hit a control on his belt unit, and the transparisteel slabs forming the arena’s walls slid away into floor slots. The Viceprex and his wife settled into luxurious conform-loungers. Pakka readied his props.
Han turned to the supervisor tech who’d been placed at his disposal. “Wait for me by the elevator; I’ll get the circuit box out, be with you in a second.”
The man left. Han, loosening his cape and sliding it from his shoulders, turned to Bollux. “Okay, open up just enough for me to get Max.”
The plastron opened partway. Han leaned close, shielded by the plastron halves. As he freed the computer-probe, he warned, “Not a sound, Max. You’re supposed to be a combat-control component, so no funny stuff. You’re deaf and dumb as of now.” As a signal that he understood, Blue Max’s photoreceptor went dim. “Good boy, Maxie.”
Han straightened, slinging the computer’s shoulder strap over his arm. As Bollux closed his chest up, Han handed his cape and gunbelt over and patted the ’droid’s freshly painted head. “Hold these for me and stay loose, Bollux. This shouldn’t take long.”
As Han joined the tech supervisor at the elevator, Pakka was just beginning a marvelous exhibition of tumbling and gymnastics. The cub was a competition-class acrobat and covered the amphitheater floor in a series of flips, twists, and cartwheels, somersaulting through a hoop he held and, perching on the balance-ball, moving himself around the arena with both hands and feet. Then Atuarre came in to act as thrower as Pakka became a flyer.
Hirken’s wife thought it all charming, oohing at the cub’s prowess. Subordinate Authority execs began to show up and take seats, a handful of the privileged who had been invited to see the performance. They muttered approval of Pakka’s agility, but stifled it when they saw their boss’s deadly look of discontent.
Hirken thumbed his belt unit. A voice answered instantly. “Have the Mark X readied at once.” He ignored the crisp acknowledgment from the duty tech, eyed the waiting Bollux, and turned his attention back to the acrobatics. Authority Viceprex Hirken could be very, very patient when he wished, but wasn’t in the mood now.
IX
RIDING down in the elevator, Han concentrated furiously on his predicament.
He’d led the others into this jam thinking that, if nothing else, he’d at least get an idea of what he was up against. At worst, he’d thought, they’d be told they weren’t welcome. But this was an unanticipated twist.
That Bollux