Star Wars: Tales From Mos Eisley Cantina by Kevin J. Anderson

Author:Kevin J. Anderson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3, pdf
Tags: Science Fiction, Space Opera, Star Wars Fiction, Fiction, Anthologies, Fantasy, American, English, General, Short stories
ISBN: 9780553564686
Publisher: Spectra
Published: 1995-07-01T00:00:00+00:00

-soupI exult even as proboscii twitch expectantly. It is here, here-and now, right now, this moment . . . the hue, the tint, the whisper, the shout, the evanescence of soup incarnate, enfleshed and unshielded, and rich, so richI need only to go and to get it, to drink it, to embrace as Anzati embrace, to dance the dance with the Corellian whose soup is thick, and hot, and sweet, sweeter by far than any I have tasted for too long a timeNow.

Now.

But haste dilutes fulfillment. Let there be time, and patience.

-such soupThe band wails on. There is the sharp scent of smoke; the acrid tang of sweat; the smut-dusty stench of dune sand, of city sand; the blatancy of blaster death but newly encountered, redolent of the Rodian's cowardice and stupidity. It was a poor death worth no comment; he will not be mourned even by the entity who hired him. He is-was-the Hutt's, of course. Need you ask? There is none other who would dare to hire assassins in Mos Eisley, on Tatooine. None but Lord Vader, and the Emperor.

But they are not here. Only Jabba.

The Hutt is in all things; is of himself all things, and everywhere, on Tatooine, in Mos Eisley, in Chahnun's cantina.

-such soupA final inhalation of t'bac, sucked deep inside and savored, as is the moment, the knowledge, the need itself savored. A brief glare of searing sunlight illuminates the interior as the Corellian pirate and his Wookiee companion depart with alacrity Chalmun's premises, wary of Imperial repercussions. It is Jabba's spaceport in all but name, and that name is the Emperor's, who need know nothing of such dealings as the Hutt's; or who knows, and does not care.

It is dusk again inside. They will clear the body away; and someone will report to Jabba that his hireling is dead. Has reported; he knows it by now, and by whose hand it was done.

-such soupBut what sense in paying for it of my own pocket? Jabba's is deeper.

Indeed, the Hutt will pay well. But it is / who will drink the soup.

-such soupProboscii quiver as I exhale the twinned smoke-stream slowly, steadily, with quiet satisfaction and the frisson of my own soup as it leaps in anticipation.

-Han Solo's soupAh, but it will be a hunt worth the hunting . . . and soup such as I-even Dannik Jerriko, Anzat of the Anzati, Eater of Luck, of Chance-have never, ever known.

At the Crossroads The Spacer's Tale

by Jerry Oltion

The Infinity was hot in more ways than one. BoShek smiled as he prepared to drop out of hyperspace over Tatooine. He'd just beat Solo's time on the Kessel run.

Of course he was running empty, bringing in just the ship to have its transponder codes altered, but even so, it would be fun to tell the braggart Corellian and his furry sidekick he'd broken their record.

The cockpit fit like a glove around him. He could reach all the controls from the single pilot's chair, and everything was right where instinct made him reach first.

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