“Very funny,” Control growled. “Just hustle it, okay?”
“I’m hustling, I’m hustling,” Lanius grumped under his breath.
The cart moved on; but even as it again changed corridors, Luke began to feel an odd sensation tingling at the back of his mind. Somewhere-somehow-something had suddenly gone wrong.
He stretched out with the Force again, trying to track down the sensation. Ahead, a door hissed open and the cart again entered a large room. It seemed to be taking a long time to get across it . .
And then, abruptly, the cart stopped. “What the-” the pirate spat.
“Get out of the way, Lanius,” the voice of Control boomed over a loudspeaker. “You’ve got yourself a rider.”
The pirate bit out a curse, and there was a scramble of feet as he darted away from the lift cart. “All right, whoever you are,” Control continued. “We know you’re in there-we got a clear scan from the security corridor. Come on out.”
Luke grimaced. So that’s what that tingling sensation had been: a premonition of the mess he was now in. A pity he hadn’t paid more attention to it, though offhand he couldn’t see what he could have done to change anything at that point.
And anyway, berating himself for errors in judgment would gain him nothing. Pulling out his comlink, he thumbed it on. “Artoo?” he said softly.
There was no answer, just a quiet burst of static. “Oh, and we’ve also jammed your transmissions,” Control added. “I’m afraid the only one you’re going to be able to talk to is me.”
So Luke was on his own. Tucking his lightsaber a little deeper into its hiding place, he sealed the tunic flap loosely across it. “Okay,” he shouted. “Hold your fire-I’m coming out.”
He released his Force grip on the side panel and let it swing open. Three pirates were visible, standing well back from the box, their blasters steady on him. Five others, he could sense, were spread out around the box outside his field of view.
Five others, plus a Defel skulking somewhere in the shadows as backup. Once again, they weren’t taking any chances.
“Well, well,” Control’s voice said as Luke eased his way out of the disemboweled droid and stood up. “Took a wrong turn, did you, Mensio?”
“No, I think it was Lanius who took the wrong turn,” Luke said, keeping his hands away from his blaster as he looked around. They were in a large, high-ceilinged room, with stacked boxes lining two of the walls. His box had been set down in an otherwise unoccupied corner away from the rest of the merchandise; the eight pirates were arrayed in a rough semicircle around him. He didn’t spot the Defel, but it was probably somewhere between him and the only door, across the room behind the ring of blasters. “I came to see your captain, not your inventory.”
One of the pirates facing Luke growled something unintelligible. “I think you ought to know that Hensing there really despises sarcastic jinks,” Control said.
“Really,” Luke said, sending another casual glance toward the door area. The glow panel switch was just to the side of the panel: a simple push plate that he could trigger with the Force. Perfect. “Sorry to hear that.”
“You could get a lot sorrier,” Control warned. “He has a theory that jinks get less sarcastic when they’ve had a hand or two blown off.”
Luke smiled grimly, flexing the fingers of his artificial right hand. “He’s right about that,” he said. “Take my word for it.”
“Just so we understand each other,” Control said. “Take out your blaster-I’m sure you know the routine.”
“Sure,” Luke said, pulling out his blaster with exaggerated care and lowering it to the floor in front of him. “You want the spare power packs, too?” be asked, pointing to the two small flat boxes riding the other side of his gunbelt.
“No, you’re welcome to hide behind them if you’d like,” Control said. “Just kick the blaster away from you.”
Luke complied, using the Force to make sure the weapon skidded to a halt precisely at Hensing’s feet. “Happy?”
“Happier than you’re going to be,” Control said. “I don’t think you realize how much trouble you’re in here, Mensio.”
It was time, Luke decided, to switch tacks. “Fine, no more nonsense,” he said, putting an edge into both his voice and his posture. “I’m here to talk to your captain about making a deal.”
If Control was impressed by the new Mensio, his voice didn’t show it. “Sure you are,” he said. “What, you couldn’t call for an appointment?”