Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 01_ The Paradise Snare - A. C. Crispin [91]
The Togorian nodded, and he and Bria slithered and slipped back through the ruins of the treasure room, past the moaning Teroenza, through the door of the priest’s apartment.
Silently, Han counted. At fifteen, he stuck his hand around the edge of the door and snapped off four quick shots, and was rewarded with a howl of agony.
One more down …
He waited, breathing hard, trying not to cough on the dust that still filled the air.
Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine … fifty!
Han dived out the door, hit the corridor rolling, and fired. Red blaster bolts zinged past his legs and where his head would be, but he got another guard, a Whiphid. As they’d planned, Bria and Muuurgh were firing from behind the guards, and two more fell.
The remaining two guards, a Devaronian and a Gamorrean, took to their heels and pounded away from Muuurgh and Bria, leaping over Han’s still-recumbent body as they did so.
Han got shakily to his feet, just in time to hear Muuurgh let out a huge battle roar and grapple with—who? Han couldn’t see anyone!
Has he gone crazy? Han wondered, but then he glimpsed a reddish-orange eye, a mouth full of teeth, and heard a loud hiss. He saw a blaster wave, seemingly in midair, then suddenly he could make out the pale-skinned, warty, scaled being. A skin-changer!
Muuurgh growled and snarled as he savagely attacked the Aar’aa. The Togorian was so much taller than his opponent that Muuurgh was bent over nearly double. Han winced as the Togorian fell to his knees, grasping his foe. The reptilian creature was the exact color of the neutral walls and flooring in the dimly lit corridor. With a motion like a striking gral-viper, the Togorian buried his fangs in the being’s throat and ripped. Reddish-orange blood spurted into the air.
Muuurgh jumped back, and Han watched, fascinated, as the Aar’aa sagged, then fell, with ponderous slowness, to the floor. As the being lay there, it slowly reverted from its pale color to its own natural skin tone, a grayish-tan. Han didn’t have to look twice to know that it was dead.
Bria was staring in horror at the spot where the dead Aar’aa lay. “He almost had me,” she whispered. “If it hadn’t been for Muuurgh …”
“How’d you see him, pal?” Han said, holstering his blaster. “I couldn’t see a thing!”
“I did not see him, I smelled him,” Muuurgh said matter-of-factly. “Togorians hunt by sight and smell. Muuurgh is a hunter, remember?”
“Thanks, pal,” Han said, and put an arm around Bria. “I owe you one. Now we’d better—”
“Look out!” Bria yelled, and Han instinctively ducked. Bria’s blaster went off in stun mode just over his head, making his ears ring. He straightened up in time to see Ganar Tos slowly crumpling to the floor as a blaster slipped from his green fingers.
Han walked over to the old majordomo and, picking up the blaster, slipped it into his belt. Bria came to stand beside him. “All I can think is that if you hadn’t come back today, tonight I’d have been his wife,” she murmured, and shuddered so deeply that Han hugged her reassuringly.
“I’m glad you only stunned him,” Han said. “He may have been a lecherous old creep, but how can I blame him for being attracted to you?” He smiled at her, his eyes very intent.
She glanced down, and her color rose. “I didn’t want to marry him, but I’m glad he’s not dead.”
“Well,” Han said, “I owe you one, honey.”
“No, you don’t,” she said. “We’re even. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be buried under that ceiling back there, like that Hutt.”
“Yeah, I’m afraid old Zavval’s no longer with us,” Han said. “And I suppose the Hutts will blame me for it.”
For a moment Han remembered Teroenza, who was still alive, only wounded. Should he go back and finish off the t’landa Til? The thought of walking up to a helpless sentient and coldly shooting the creature in cold blood didn’t appeal to him.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, beckoning to Muuurgh, who was licking Aar’aa blood off his paws with fastidious distaste. “C’mon, Muuurgh, you can finish grooming your whiskers later. Don’t forget—Mrrov is waiting.