LUKE AND THREEPIO returned to the depot a lean alien was sitting in a chair on the porch, cleaning a long, boxy-looking blaster rifle. As
the young rebel approached, the alien lifted his head—and Luke took a reflexive step backward.
He saw no visible eyes or mouth, just four segmented plates of chitin, the largest at the top. Small bristles lined the gaps between the plates, wavingslightly. The rest of the alien’s
head was hidden beneath a battered old helmet of gray metal. Black tubes ran from the helmet’s cheeks to a control box strapped to the alien’s chest, tucked between bandoliers with
bulging pockets. From the control box, two more tubes extended back over his shoulders.
The alien’s forearms were covered with chitinous plates resembling the ones on his head,and studded with wispy hairs. He wore a torn cape over his left shoulder, and mismatched armor
protected his left forearm and right shoulder.
Luke couldn’t remember seeing an alien of his species before. He wondered what purpose the control box and tubes served. Were they breathing tubes? Did this species even breathe?
The alien finished inspecting the rifle and cocked his head at thetwo new arrivals. Despite his lack of eyes, Luke had the feeling he was being scrutinized—and not particularly
favorably.
“You’re Marcus—the outlander who wants to go on a pikhron hunt.”
The words emerged from a vocoder grill at the helmet’s chin. The voice was deep and low, like the rumble of an approaching storm.
“I’m not a hunter, but I want to hire a guide, yes. Are you available,Mr.…?”
“Sarco Plank.” The blank face seemed to regard Luke, and the cilia between the plates vibrated feverishly. “I’ll take you into the jungle. For the right price.”
Luke felt a strange current rippling in the Force.
“All of the other guides said no,” he said. “Why are you different?”
“Because I don’t listen to tall tales about ghosts and sorcerers. And because I have my owngear and mounts. So there’s nothing that old Porst can do about it.”
That feeling in the Force was still there, like a bad taste in Luke’s mouth. He didn’t know if it was connected to Sarco, or something else. But even if it was a warning about Sarco,
what could he do? Farnay’s half-grown pack beast would never be able to take them, and no other guides were available. It was either go withSarco or risk the journey on his own. And he had a
rebel mission to get back to.
“Very well,” Luke said, wondering if he was making a mistake—and if so, what price he would pay for it.
Two hours later, Luke came down from his room with the droids to find Sarco outside the depot with a pair of massive creatures. They had gray flesh, broad flat noses, and beady
black eyes that were almostinvisible in their wrinkled faces. Their forelegs were stubby, ending in broad feet, while the back legs were longer and powerful-looking.
Sarco cinched a howdah over one of the beast’s shoulders and tightened it. The creature grunted in protest, and Sarco aimed a kick at its head, causing it to open a broad gash of a mouth
filled with flat yellow teeth. It snapped at Sarco, stomping eachfoot in turn.
“We might as well be devoured right here,” Threepio said mournfully, and Artoo let out an electronic moan.
“The happabores don’t eat flesh,” Sarco said. “Or metal. Just stay away from their mouths. And feet.”
“That doesn’t make me feel much safer,” Threepio said.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Luke said, trying to conceal his own doubt. “Come on, Threepio, let’s getyou and Artoo saddled up.”
He and Sarco struggled to get Threepio up onto the seat atop the smaller happabore, with the golden droid protesting mightily. Luke then tied Artoo on his side behind Threepio. He tugged on the
ropes to make sure the astromech was secure, and Artoo hooted unhappily, rotating his dome to fix his single electronic eye reproachfully on Luke.
“I know you
Learning to Kill: Stories