Star Wars_ The New Jedi Order 04_ Agents of Chaos 01_ Hero's Trial - James Luceno [67]
“Kick the button, kick the button!” the alien squealed in a pained voice. “Or plan on taking part of me with you into that creature!”
Han looked to his right and spied the mushroom-button, almost within reach of his right foot. “Swing me to the right!” he yelled.
The Ryn’s muscular tail spasmed just enough to set Han swaying and bring him within reach of the corridor wall. He extended his foot and caught the button with the toe of his boot.
The blast shield dropped rapidly, hitting the grooved deck with a loud and reassuring thud. At once, Han, the Ryn, and everyone left in the corridor followed suit, falling to the floor like stones.
While Han was fighting to regain his wind, the Ryn sprang to his feet and tugged his cap down on his forehead. Han took in the rest of the alien’s brightly colored outfit of vest, culottes, and ankle boots.
“What time do they switch you on?” he asked between breaths.
The Ryn laughed. “Round about your bedtime. Now what?”
Han stood up, clapping grit from his hands. “We get off this station before that thing decides it’s still hungry.”
“The launch bays are this way,” the two of them said at the same time, although rushing off in opposite directions.
“Trust me,” the Ryn said before Han could speak.
Han stared at him stonily, then waved him on and fell in behind.
Powerful spasms continued to rock the Wheel, throwing them from side to side. Han stopped to collect a pair of crying Bimm children who had become separated from their families. Other children and adults began to attach themselves to Han and the Ryn, if for no other reason than the two at least appeared to know where they were going.
“You’d better be right,” Han warned as he ran.
“Don’t worry,” the Ryn called over his shoulder. “I’m too young to die.”
“Yeah, and I’m too well-known.”
Ahead, the corridor swept broadly to the right, and Han began to recognize where he was. The docking bays were only a short distance away.
“Can you pilot a ship?” the Ryn asked breathlessly.
Han grinned smugly. “Don’t worry—”
“You know a few maneuvers.”
Han’s nostrils flared. “You’re some conversationalist, pal.”
“Try to stay awake, anyway.”
The Ryn skidded to a halt at the first docking bay door and tapped the entry switch repeatedly. “Security lock,” he announced.
Han shoved him aside to study the lock’s control touchpad.
“Hurry!” someone in their crowd of distressed followers said. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
Han spun angrily from the mechanism and had his mouth open to respond when the Ryn said, “He’s working on it, he’s working on it.”
Han thrust a silencing forefinger at the Ryn, then whirled and entered an override code on the touchpad. The hatch remained closed. He tried another code, then a third. “What I’d give for a loaded blaster right about now,” he mused.
“Would an R-series droid do?” the Ryn asked.
“If we had one.” Han shot him a sarcastic glance. “Unless, of course, you’ve got a droid summoner tucked away in that suit of lights.”
He had returned his attention to the touchpad, figuring to give it one final try, when from the edge of the crowd he heard the characteristic chirps, toodles, twitters, and warbles of an R2 unit. Swinging around in elated surprise, though, he saw that the sounds were coming from the Ryn, who was fingering the perforations in his chitinous beak as if it were a flute.
Han regarded the alien open-mouthed, then shook his head in a flustered way. “Do you sing and dance, too?”
“Only for credits.” The Ryn smiled in elaborate self-satisfaction. “Sometimes I amaze even myself.”
Han took a menacing step toward the alien. “Now, listen you—”
A mellifluous cascade of genuine hoots and whistles interrupted him as a red-domed R2 unit wheeled onto the scene.
“It wants to know how it can be of assistance,” the Ryn translated.
Han gazed from the alien to the droid in disbelief, then silently indicated the hatch’s security lock.
The