Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 03_ Rebel Dawn - A. C. Crispin [78]
His eyes kept returning to one woman who was sitting at a table with not one, but two male escorts. Human, yes, and stunning. Long reddish hair swept up with jeweled sapphire combs, and a face and figure that just wouldn’t quit. Lando couldn’t decide whether she was romantically attached to either of her escorts. She sat close beside them, smiling and bending forward to listen as first one, then the other, spoke into her ear. But the more Lando watched her, the more he became convinced that neither of the men was her date. Her smiles were more … comradely … than romantic. There was no suggestion of a lingering intimacy in the brief contacts of their shoulders as they brushed hers.
Lando finished his drink, and was almost ready to go over and ask the lovely stranger if she’d like to dance, when the excellent Rughja orchestra-band, Umjing Baab and his Swinging Trio, finished their current selection. There were only three members in the band, but, since each Rughja had fifteen flexible limbs, and played at least ten instruments apiece, they sounded like a genuine orchestra. In fact, looking at Umjing Baab and his two band members, it was difficult to discern anything but limbs ending in assorted instruments, though occasionally one of the being’s multiple eyes would be visible through the tangle.
The band was very versatile, playing everything from swing-bop to modern jizz selections. The gambler clapped politely as they finished a mellow version of “Mood and Moons,” then settled back in his seat as the bandleader, Umjing Baab, put down his Kloo horn, disengaged from the nalargon, and writhed his way up to the public address system. The Rughja’s voice had a mechanical timbre … understandable, because it was artificially generated. Rughja were a species whose natural communication was not audible to humanoids. Umjing Baab “spoke,” as the spotlight reflected off his glossy, mauve, upper-limbs. “Good evening, gentles. Tonight we have an honored guest with us, a celebrity whom I am hoping we can prevail upon to favor us with a number! Join me in welcoming Lady Bria Lavval!”
Lando clapped politely, but his applause soon became genuine when he realized that the bandmaster was referring to his attractive stranger. Blushing, smiling, she half-rose from her seat to take a bow, but then, urged on by the applause, she picked up the skirts of her long, electric-blue sheath (a color that set off her hair) and walked up the steps to the bandstand.
After conferring briefly with Umjing Baab, she stepped up to the microphone, tapped her jeweled, slippered toe as the percussion started up, and then the band broke into a slowed down version of last year’s hit, “Smoky Dreams.”
Bria Lavval began to sing. Lando had heard a lot of singers in his time, and she was far from being the best. Her breath control was uneven, and she cut short some of the high notes because of it. But her voice was strong and in key, and her contralto was pleasantly husky. With her figure, face and smile, Lando was willing to forgive her lack of professional technique. Within moments of starting her song, she had all the humanoid males in the palm of her hand.
She sang with passion of lost love, of tender sadness, of misty memories fading with time.…
Lando was totally captivated. When she finished the number, he clapped as loudly as the rest of the audience. Smiling and blushing becomingly, she allowed herself to be escorted back to her table by Umjing Baab, who genuflected deeply to her, and then returned to his fellow Rughja band members.
As the Swinging Trio struck up a catchy tune, Lando got unhesitatingly to his feet and walked over to the chanteuse, narrowly