Talla wandered into the office of DirectShip, and thumped
the cooler down on her
partner's desk. She opened it, took out two brandy gourds
and handed one to Zora.
"Drink," she ordered, uncharacteristically curt. "You
need it." She switched on the
holoview.
Zora raised her eyebrows and took the drink. She watched the screen.
"This is an important message from Imperial Center. Earlier
this week, terrorists from the
revolutionary group calling themselves The Alliance destroyed
the prototype research
station Discovery. We have positive ID on four of the
terrorists." The first picture flashed
on the screen.
"Princess-Senator Organa from Alderaan. There is a thousand
credit reward for
information on her whereabouts. Ten thousand credits
for her delivery alive and well to
Lord Vader. She should be considered armed and
dangerous."
A second picture appeared.
"Shit."
"You got it in one, partner. Looks like it's time to close
the office, swipe the petty cash box
and take a long vacation. They'll be coming for DirectShip
soon. Maybe Amazia can use a
couple ladies with a fast ship."
"The human is Captain Han Solo, president of DirectShip.
The Wookiee is his
companion, Chewbacca. A thousand credit reward will be
paid for information as to their
whereabouts. The Wookiee carries a five thousand credit
bounty, dead. The human
carries a twenty-thousand credit for delivery alive and
unharmed to Lord Vader. Both
should be considered armed and extremely dangerous."
Zora swore softly and at length. Talla just stared as
her partner exhausted her vocabulary
in eight languages. It was the single longest speech
she'd ever heard out of the woman.
As Zora opened her desk drawer for the cash box, a third
picture appeared.
"This human styles himself Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight."
Zora dropped the cashbox with
a clatter and gaped. "Delivery of this man, alive and
well, to Lord Vader, will pay some
lucky citizen of the Empire half a million credits.
Skywalker should be considered armed,
and extremely dangerous. As a Jedi, he is capable
of mentally enslaving sentients.
Warning, even if unarmed, approach with caution."
"Expensive cheelooda," Zora commented.
"Let's lift before the troopers show up to close us down.
Come on! We're going back to
work for the Black Hole Gang."
Zora grabbed the ledger and the filing boxes, and the
two women left the office at a sedate pace. No one
paid them any attention. It was, after all, Mos Eisley.
In the abandoned offices, the holoview babbled to itself.
"In other news today, the outlaw group known as the Black
Hole Gang failed to surrender after a standoff
with Imperial troops. There were six Imperial casualties,
and no survivors of the gang."