And all I want for 'em is this rancor-skin jacket. What do you
say? Even trade?"
The smuggler grinned and the Wookiee squeezed Greedo's
shoulder.
"T-te jacta." I'll get you for this.
"Did he say what I think he said?" asked the smuggler.
"He said it's a deal," laughed Warb.
"Good. The kid knows a bargain when he sees one." The smuggler
held out his hand for a handshake, but Greedo ignored it. Instead
he made a popping noise with his hand-suckers and threw the burnt
couplings on the floor. Then he turned and ran for the door.
"HWARWNUNH."
"Yeah, Chewie, I was probably a little rough on him. But you
got to set punks straight while they're still young. Otherwise no
telling where they'll end up . . . Here, Warb, ya want this
jacket? It's a birthday present."
"Thanks, Han. How'd you know today's my birthday?"
6. The Teacher
Spurch Warhog Goa was sitting by himself, counting a pile of
credits, in a corner of the Meltdown Cafe. He waved his arm when
he saw Greedo come in. "Hey, kid -over here!"
Greedo was still nursing his anger and resentment, but he tried
to look like a seasoned spacer as he moved through the noisy
gathering. He started to feel better when one grizzled old Twi'lek
actually jumped out of his way.
"Hello, Spurch."
"Have a seat, kid. Ya want somethin' to drink?... Don't sit too
close. You Rodians don't smell right to a Diollan."
Greedo took a place opposite his new mentor. Goa ordered up a
bottle of Tatooine Sunburn for Greedo.
"T-that's a lot of money, Spurch." Greedo eyed the pile
nervously. He hoped Ninx would still sell him the Corsair, after
what happened.
"Call me Warhog, kid. I don't care for that other name. My
mother thought it was cute 'cause it means 'brave bug catcher' in
our language." Goa snorted. He took a stack of chits off the pile
in front of him. "Here, kid. For you. Thanks for the tip about the
Rebels. It paid off . . . big-time."
"Cthn rulyen stka wen!" Wow, that's great! Greedo picked up the
bills and flipped through them. They were small denominations ...
far less than he had expected. Visions of piloting his own fast
Corsair began to evaporate.
"Uh . . . two hundred credits . . . uh, thanks, Warhog."
"Whatsamatter, kid? You look disappointed." Goa surveyed his
new protege with a bright bird eye.
"Uh ... I thought there would be more, I guess."
"Hey, kid. You want to be a bounty hunter, right? Didn't I say
Rodians make the best bounty hunters? Didn't I?"
Greedo nodded solemnly. / do want to be a bounty hunter. But a
bounty hunter needs a ship.
' 'Now, you think I train bounty hunters for free? Huh? Do ya?
. . . Drink your Tatooine Sunburn, kid, it's delicious."
Obediently Greedo picked up the bottle and swallowed the thick
fluid. It tasted bitter. He felt embarrassed. Warhog was right.
"Uh ... I guess I ... uh, never th ought about that," he said.
"Right. It never crossed your greedy little mind. Goa gets paid
for teaching young punks how to hunt! Now look here-" Goa reached
into one of the many pouches strapped to his body and pulled out a
much larger roll of credits. "This is all yours, if you want it -
twenty thousand. That's one-third of what the Imps paid for the
intelligence on the Rebels."
Greedo's eyes watered, and a profound hunger rippled in his
guts as he stared at the mound of credit notes. Visions of The
Manka Hunter started to re-form.
Goa leaned forward and fixed Greedo with his beady eyes. "But
if you take this money, that's it, ya understand? I never want to
see you again. You gotta make up your mind, kid. Do you want to
learn the trade from an expert ... or do ya want a few nights on
the town and the down payment on a hot rod you'll probably crash
in a week? Warhog Goa can make you the galaxy's second-greatest
bounty hunter, kid . . . Warhog Goa being the first."
Greedo let Goa"s words roll around inside his head for a
minute, and they connected with his deepest desires. He wanted
that Corsair more than anything, but he felt a deeper need to hunt
... a need to be like his father. And the trade of bounty-hunting
was a way of making lots of money. A rich bounty hunter might own
his own moon and lots of ships - sloops, cruisers, cutters . . .
even warships.
"You'll really teach me the secrets?" asked Greedo diffidently.
"Teach ya? I'll shove the stinkin' secrets down your stinkin'
throat! We got a deal, kid? Believe me, I wouldn't do it for
anybody. But you saved my life. You cut me and Dyyz in on your
first capture . . . and by the Cron Drift, you're a Radian. I tell
ya, Rodians are born bounty hunters."
Greedo felt waves of pride sweep over him. Born bounty hunter.
Rodians are born bounty hunters. Yes, I can feel it, I've always
felt it. My father was a bounty hunter. I will be a bounty hunter.
I am a bounty hunter.
"Deal, Warhog." Greedo hooted and held out his hand.
Goa looked at the suckered fingers and a look of disgust
crossed his face. Even the kid's hand smells funny. He carefully
touched Greedo's hand with his own. "Deal, "he said. "C'mon, I'll
buy ya another Sunburn at the bar . . . introduce ya to some of
the boys."
Fool kid fell for it, thought Goa, as he pushed his way toward
the bar. I get to keep his share, and all I got to do is tell him
a few "secrets" and most likely he'll get himself aced in a month
or two . . . Anyway, who knows, maybe he will make a good bounty
hunter . . . Tho I never saw a Radian good for anythin' except
killin' unarmed Ugnaughts!
7. Vader
Fifteen thousand kilometers out from the spaceport moon, in the
shadow of the luminous Hutt planet, the starry void cracked open
and a mighty triangular warship emerged from hyperspace.
Star Destroyer.
As the massive vessel moved into stationary orbit over Nal
Hutta, Imperial shocktroops answered the assembly klaxon, buckling
on white body armor and pulling energized blaster rifles from
charging sheaths.
The troopers' boots resounded in the main launch bay as they
ran to formation next to the two camouflaged Gamma Assault
Shuttles that would carry them to the spaceport moon.
High above, on the quarterdeck of the Star Destroyer Vengeance,
the Mission Commander received final instructions from an imposing
figure entirely encased in black armor. The figure's deep voice
resonated through an electronic breath mask.
"I want prisoners, Captain. Dead Rebels won't tell me where
they're shipping those weapons." The menacing hiss of the
grotesque breath mask underscored the threat implicit in the voice
and the words.
"Yes, Lord Vader. It shall be as you request. The incident on
Datar was unfortunate, sir. The Rebels fought us to the last man."
"We had lost the element of surprise, Captain. Vice Admiral
Slen
n paid with his life for that mistake. This time there won't
be a mistake. This time the Rebels won't know we're coming. Are
the assault shuttles ready?"
"Yes, Lord Vader. I've had them camouflaged as light
freighters, sir. Our agents have obtained the necessary priority
docking codes from Port Control. We're free to enter the Corellian
Sector of Nar Shaddaa at any hour of our choosing."
"Good. Leave at once, find the enemy enclave, and capture as
many Rebels as you can. I will follow the moment the situation is
secure."
"Very good, sir. The mission will launch immediately."
When Rebel SpecForce sentinel Spane Covis saw the two
weatherbeaten stock freighters drop past him down the flight shaft
and enter Level 88, he didn't think anything about it.
From his post in a rented viewroom in Port Tower One, Covis was
supposed to alert his cadre commander if any unusual ship traffic
entered the vicinity. It was a boring job. Nothing out of the
ordinary happened. Covis's attention was operating at about thirty
percent.
Then it hit him The sheathing's all wrong. The cargo doors are
too small. The cooling towers are in the wrong place. I've never
seen freighters configured like those.
Covis grabbed his comlink and yelled. "Stardog One, this is
Dewback!"
"Go ahead, Dewback, what's the problem?"
"Watch your tail, Stardog. Two rancors in the house!"
"Got it, Dewback."
Twenty Rebel commandos had already taken up positions inside
the warehouse, their surveillance sensors scanning the street,
when the camouflaged Gammas rumbled into view.
In the rear of the cavernous building, other SpecForce
infantry loaded the hold of a massive Z-10 transport, clearing the
warehouse of as much ordnance as they could before the firefight
began.
In the very center of the warehouse, behind a heavy blast
shield, a C4-CZN ion field gun was rolled into position.
The element of surprise the Imperials hoped for was gone.
The firefight on Level 88 was very fierce and it hap pened very
fast.
Greedo's mother Neela heard a shuddering roar and ran to the
window of the reconstructed ventilation flue where she and her
sons lived, in the warren of structures crammed into one end of
the warehouse district.
At that moment one of the Gamma Assault Shuttles transformed
into flaming vapor, becoming a sphere of light and energy that
expanded in a flash, igniting both sides of the street. The green
fireball seared Neela's large eyes, and she turned and bolted
screaming into the back of the apartment.
The other Gamma unleashed twin turbos, and the front of the
Rebel warehouse shattered and split. The shuttle crew ramps came
down. Imperial shocktroops emerged blasting.
Another round from the C4 ion gun, and the second Gamma was
history. A rain of blaster shots were exchanged, sixty shocktroops
went down, and the fight was over. The rest surrendered.
Greedo was hanging around with Goa and Dyyz and a bunch of
other bounty hunters on Level 92. The hunters had news that a
wanted list had been released by a top Hutt ganglord. The Hutt was
assigning collection jobs on a first-come basis, complete with
signed contracts.
Suddenly emergency sirens began to blare and Greedo saw
Corellian firefighting scows plunging down the flight shaft, red
strobes flashing.
"Looks like the Imps got our message," said Warhog, giving
Greedo a knowing wink.
Greedo tried to sound nonchalant. "Yeah - maybe so. Could be
just another fire started by the Gloom Dwellers." Then smoke began
to pour up the shaft and Greedo started to worry.
It hadn't occurred to Greedo until after he'd told Goa and Dyyz
about the Rebel gunrunners that there might be danger for his
people. The Rodian refugees lived and worked on Level 88- they'd
be in the path of any attack by Imperial stormtroopers.
"Uh . . . guess I'll . . . uh, see ya later, Warhog. You too,
Dyyz. Got some business to take care of."
Goa raised an eyebrow. "Sure, kid. Me and Dyyz are most likely
jumpin' to Tatooine tonight - so if I don't see ya, good luck!"
Tatooine! The Hutt contracts! Greedo walked away feeling angry
and betrayed that Goa hadn't invited him to go with them. So far
Goa had given him very little training. And he took my share of
the reward.
Greedo started to turn back, to beg Warhog and Dyyz to take him
to Tatooine. Then his mother's screaming face suddenly flooded
his mind. Instead of turning back, Greedo began to run for the
nearest repulsor lift.
Greedo stepped into the lift and hit the stud marked "88." The
lift dropped like a stone, stopping smoothly a few seconds later
at Level 88. An alarm sounded and the lift door refused to open.
Automatic sensors had locked out the lift at this level.
Looking through the transparent door, Greedo saw why - the
street was a mass of smoke and flame. The Corellian firefighting
scows were working the blaze with chemical sprays, and making
rapid headway.
Greedo tried to peer through the smoke to see if his family's
dwelling complex was on fire. The Rodians lived back near the
refuse core. Greedo couldn't see that far, but he guessed
everything was okay. Only the Rebel warehouse and the buildings
across the street were burning.
Greedo relaxed and began to enjoy the scene before him. He
recognized Rebels helping the firefighters, and he began to wonder
exactly what had happened here. The only stormtroopers visible
were lying on their backs, helmets shattered.
Just then Greedo heard the sound of rending metal and he saw
the firefighters all turn toward the flight shaft, which was out
of his line of vision. The firefight-ers' faces changed to fear,
and a second later a massive black war machine hovered into view,
spewing laser fire from ten different points on its convoluted
surface.
The machine was a monstrous engine of death, shaped like a
crab, with ripping claws left and right, a phalanx of blast
weapons fore and aft, and a command cockpit secured behind heavy
shielding in the center, about where a crab's mouth would be. It
floated on repulsor energy, it moved very swiftly, and it killed
everything in its path.
Greedo pounded on the lift door. It still wouldn't open. Part
of him was glad it wouldn't open. Part of him wanted to leave.
That part of him punched the button for Level 92. My family will
be okay. Only the Rebels are going to die.
As the lift rose away from the carnage, Greedo got a last
glimpse of the Death Engine as it spewed a thick stream of white-
hot energy into the Rebel warehouse. Then he was moving between
levels and his vision was blocked.
A moment later the whole sector shook as if it had been hit by
an asteroid.
Greedo stumbled out onto the Level 92 thoroughfare and promptly
fell on his face. The street
heaved and shook, and a terrifying
rumble filled the air. People ran or grabbed onto vehicles as they
careened past, heading for the flight shaft. As he dragged himself
to his feet, Greedo saw the bounty hunters moving together toward
the reserved parking platform where they had all stashed their
ships. He saw Dyyz Nataz, but he couldn't make out Warhog Goa.
A gloved hand grabbed Greedo's shoulder. He looked up into the
broad-beaked face of his friend.
"If ya know what's good for ya, kid, you'll come with me and
Dyyz. The Imps are in a bad mood about somethin'. I think the Rebs
gave 'em more of a fight than they expected."
"My folks . . . I can't leave my family . . . my people."
"Don't worry about the family, kid. If you're goin' to be a
bounty hunter, you're going to have to kiss off the family, sooner
or later. Now's as good a time as any . . . Besides, they'll
probably be okay."
Warhog Goa gave Greedo a questioning look and then walked away,
following Dyyz toward their ship.
Greedo stood and watched Warhog go, trying to make up his mind,
trying to decide what he really wanted.
He wanted to be a bounty hunter.
The sleek cruiser Nova Viper lifted with the swarm of bounty-
hunter craft that headed out of port, lining up for jump
clearances.
No clearances came. Port Control was preoccupied.
So the ships jumped anyway.
The last thing Goa and Dyyz and Greedo saw was the collapse of
an entire quarter of the Corellian Sector, floor upon floor, with
a magnificent flash and rumble and roar.
"Wheez! Musta took out twenty levels!" shouted Dyyz. "A lot of
good people just died, Goa."
"And we're alive . . . right, Greedo?"
Greedo didn't answer. He just stared at the swelling
conflagration, the succession of fireballs, the billowing black
clouds.
The navicomp clicked in for Tatooine.
They jumped.
8. Mos Eisley
A massive armor-plated figure stood in the entrance of the dim
and noisy cantina, surveying the motley crowd with glowing red
electronic eyes.
"Hey - ain't that Gorm the Dissolver? What's the doin' here? I
thought we killed him!"
"Sure . . . my buddy Greedo decimated his motivator. But
there's biocomponents from six different aliens in Gorm. The only
Star Wars - Tales From The Mos Eisley Cantina Page 5