Star Wars_ Young Jedi Knights 08_ Diversity Alliance - Kevin J. Anderson [48]
"Oh dear, not again!" Em Teedee shrilled.
"I detest those cream."
"This was definitely not a good idea," Uncle Tyko Said. His face had turned a pale gray, and he seemed much more concerned about the arachnids than the deadly droids.
"I suggest we discuss the merits of our escape plans aftch for Raynor Thul's father continues, the young Jedi Knights turn for help to a most unusual--and dangerous--source: the reprogrammed assassin droid IG-88.
They think they can keep him under control. But can one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy be trusted?
Inside the bustling, hollow asteroid of Borgo Prime, signs along the walkway fluoresced and flickered, leading Zekk back to Shanko's Hive. The dark-haired young man had received his first bounty assignment inside that popular cantina--and he had come back empty-handed.
Zekk rehearsed various ways of telling this to the blue-skinned bartender, Droq'l, who had hired him to find a scavenger and his cargo.
But Fonterrat, the missing scavenger, was dead and his cargo of precious ronik shells destroyed. He had no idea how his employer would react to the bad news.
How would Boba Fett have handled this situation?
Zekk asked himself. Fett, one of the most respected (and feared) bounty hunters in the galaxy, would waste no energy on lengthy explanations or excuses. Fett would come straight to the point. Zekk decided he would have to do the same.
Tossing his ponytail over his shoulder, Zekk stopped before the entrance to an enormous cone-shaped building with horizontal ridges like smooth circular waves up its sides. He took a brief moment to perform a Jedi relaxation technique, something Master Skywalker had taught him--not Brakiss of the Shadow Academy.
Then, projecting all of the confidence a professional bounty hunter ought to feel, Zekk strode into Shanko's Hive.
Air clouded with exotic scents and flavors enveloped him in a pale gray haze. Though the interior of the hive cantina had no flat edges, the contrasting islands of sound and silence, of light and dimness, gave the illusion of dozens of shadowy corners. A quick glance at the bar told Zekk that the insectoid proprietor Shanko had emerged from hibernation and was in no mood to humor fools.
Brief, confident, professional, Zekk reminded himself.
His steps did not falter as he walked toward the bar and tossed a credit chit on it. "Osskorn Stout," he said without preamble. "I have business with your bartender."
Dark, foamy ale sloshed onto the counter from the flagon Shanko thunked down in front of him. As Zekk scooped up the tankard to take a gulp, one of Shanko's many glossy arms roughly swept out to mop up the spill while another gave an abrupt jerk, indicating an area to Zekk's right.
Still drinking thirstily, he looked over to see Droq'l in conversation with a patron who stood just outside the circle of light cast by the bar's globelamps. Zekk nodded his thanks, and with renewed confidence he
'strode toward the three-armed bartender. As if he had an extra eye in the back of his head--which he did, Zekk now recalled--Droq'l turned just as-the young bounty hunter approached, tankard in hand.
"Did you find what I sent you for?" the bartender asked, his blue face eager.
"Fonterrat is dead." Zekk reached into his vest pocket and produced the holocube that contained the scavenger's final message.
Droq'l watched the entire holomessage and grimaced, showing his shiny black teeth. "Gammalin, huh?"
Zekk shrugged. "Fonterrat was imprisoned there when the plague hit. The frightened colonists destroyed his ship and burned his cargo, but the sickness swept through the colony. It killed every human."
"Fonterrat wasn't human," the bartender mused, "so he starved alone in prison after those colonists ruined my shipment of shells." A glint of