Skynx had become a very real struggle for survival, but this Ruurian practicality made his decision simple. “I believe I’ll remain with you, Captain,” he said. Han almost laughed, but Skynx’s simple tone of pragmatism and self-preservation lifted his opinion of the Ruurian a notch.
“Glad to have you. All right; down to the docks and across the lake.”
Skynx crawled unwillingly into the bag, which Chewbacca then shouldered. They proceeded in a tight group, with Badure in the lead and Hasti and Han on the flanks. The Wookiee and Bollux kept to the middle of the group in hopes that in the poor light and rain they would be mistaken for humans, one extremely tall, the other barrel-chested.
Skynx poked his head out of the bag, feathery antennae thrashing. “Captain, it swells awful in here, and it’s cramped.” Han pushed him back down, then as an afterthought gave him the flask.
The docks and their moored embarkation floats were already busy. Leaving the others in the partial concealment of stacks of cargo, Han and Badure went to inquire about passage.
Though the docks had space for many of the tow-rafts used by Dellalt’s native sauropteroids, only the middle area seemed busy. Then, scanning the scene, Han saw one lonely raft off to the right. Though Badure had briefly described the Swimmers, Han still found them a startling sight.
Men were loading cargo aboard the tow-rafts, which were tied at the embarkation floats. Tow-lines and harnesses bobbed as the rafts waited in the water. Beyond them lazed twenty or so sauropteroids, circling or treading water with flipper strokes of immense power. They ranged from ten to fifteen meters in length, their heads held high from the water on long muscular necks as they moved in the lake. Their hides varied from a light gray to a deep green-black; lacking nostrils, they had blowholes at the tops of their long skulls. They idled, waiting for the men ashore to complete the manual labor.
One of the men, a burly individual with a jeweled ring in one ear and bits of food and droplets of breakfast nectar in his beard, was checking cargo against a manifest. As Badure explained their needs, he listened, playing with his stylus.
“You will have to talk money with the Top Bull,” he informed them with a smirk Han didn’t like, then called out: “Ho, Kasarax! Two seeking passage here!” He returned to his work as if the two men no longer existed.
Han and Badure went to the dock’s edge and stepped onto an embarkation float. A sauropteroid approached with a few beats of his flippers. Han surreptitiously moved his hand closer to his concealed blaster. He was ill at ease at seeing Kasarax’s size and his hard, narrow head with its fangs longer than a man’s forearm.
Kasarax trod water next to the float. When he spoke, the blast of sound and fishy breath made both men fall back a bit. His pronunciation was distorted but intelligible. “Passageis forty
driit
,” the creature announced, a hefty sum in Dellaltian currency, “
each
. And don’t bother haggling; we don’t fancy that down here at the docks.” Kasarax blew a spout of condensing moisture out the blowhole in his head to punctuate the statement.
“What about the others?” Han murmured to Badure, indicating the rest of the sauropteroid pack.
But Kasarax caught Han’s query and hissed like a pressure valve. “They do as I say! And I say you cross for forty
driit
!” He feinted, as if he were going to strike, a snakish movement that rocked the float with turbulence. Han and Badure scrambled onto the dock as the men there guffawed.
The man with the manifest approached. “I’m chief of Kasarax’s shore gang; you may pay me.”
Han, red in the face, was growing more furious by the moment at this high-handed treatment. But Badure, glancing toward the lone raft they had noticed earlier, asked, “What about him?”
A lone Swimmer was down there, a big, battle-torn old bull, watching events silently. The
“Glad to have you. All right; down to the docks and across the lake.”
Skynx crawled unwillingly into the bag, which Chewbacca then shouldered. They proceeded in a tight group, with Badure in the lead and Hasti and Han on the flanks. The Wookiee and Bollux kept to the middle of the group in hopes that in the poor light and rain they would be mistaken for humans, one extremely tall, the other barrel-chested.
Skynx poked his head out of the bag, feathery antennae thrashing. “Captain, it swells awful in here, and it’s cramped.” Han pushed him back down, then as an afterthought gave him the flask.
The docks and their moored embarkation floats were already busy. Leaving the others in the partial concealment of stacks of cargo, Han and Badure went to inquire about passage.
Though the docks had space for many of the tow-rafts used by Dellalt’s native sauropteroids, only the middle area seemed busy. Then, scanning the scene, Han saw one lonely raft off to the right. Though Badure had briefly described the Swimmers, Han still found them a startling sight.
Men were loading cargo aboard the tow-rafts, which were tied at the embarkation floats. Tow-lines and harnesses bobbed as the rafts waited in the water. Beyond them lazed twenty or so sauropteroids, circling or treading water with flipper strokes of immense power. They ranged from ten to fifteen meters in length, their heads held high from the water on long muscular necks as they moved in the lake. Their hides varied from a light gray to a deep green-black; lacking nostrils, they had blowholes at the tops of their long skulls. They idled, waiting for the men ashore to complete the manual labor.
One of the men, a burly individual with a jeweled ring in one ear and bits of food and droplets of breakfast nectar in his beard, was checking cargo against a manifest. As Badure explained their needs, he listened, playing with his stylus.
“You will have to talk money with the Top Bull,” he informed them with a smirk Han didn’t like, then called out: “Ho, Kasarax! Two seeking passage here!” He returned to his work as if the two men no longer existed.
Han and Badure went to the dock’s edge and stepped onto an embarkation float. A sauropteroid approached with a few beats of his flippers. Han surreptitiously moved his hand closer to his concealed blaster. He was ill at ease at seeing Kasarax’s size and his hard, narrow head with its fangs longer than a man’s forearm.
Kasarax trod water next to the float. When he spoke, the blast of sound and fishy breath made both men fall back a bit. His pronunciation was distorted but intelligible. “Passageis forty
driit
,” the creature announced, a hefty sum in Dellaltian currency, “
each
. And don’t bother haggling; we don’t fancy that down here at the docks.” Kasarax blew a spout of condensing moisture out the blowhole in his head to punctuate the statement.
“What about the others?” Han murmured to Badure, indicating the rest of the sauropteroid pack.
But Kasarax caught Han’s query and hissed like a pressure valve. “They do as I say! And I say you cross for forty
driit
!” He feinted, as if he were going to strike, a snakish movement that rocked the float with turbulence. Han and Badure scrambled onto the dock as the men there guffawed.
The man with the manifest approached. “I’m chief of Kasarax’s shore gang; you may pay me.”
Han, red in the face, was growing more furious by the moment at this high-handed treatment. But Badure, glancing toward the lone raft they had noticed earlier, asked, “What about him?”
A lone Swimmer was down there, a big, battle-torn old bull, watching events silently. The
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