(A/N) Well, here's the third one at long last.
Band Wars
Return of the Trombones
Chris Skywalker has returned to his home system of Littleton in an attempt to rescue his friend Keoni Solo from the clutches of the vile gangstress Kim the Bass.
Little does Chris know that the Woodwind Empire has secretly begun construction on a new armored flute station even more powerful than the first dreaded Death Flute.
When completed, this ultimate weapon will spell certain doom for the small band of Brass struggling to restore freedom to the world.
XxX
The very depth of space. There was the length, and width, and height; and then these dimensions curved over on themselves into a bending blackness measurable only by the glinting stars that tumbled through the chasm, receding to infinity. To the very depth.
These stars marked the moments of the universe. There were aging orange embers, blue dwarfs, twin yellow giants. There were collapsing neutron stars, and angry supernovae that hissed into the icy emptiness. There were borning stars, breathing stars, pulsing stars, and dying stars. Then there was the Death Flute.
At the feathered edge of the atmosphere, the Death Flute floated in stationary orbit above the tiny blue-green planet of Earth. The Death Flute was the Empire's armored battle case, nearly twice as big as its predecessor, which Brass forces had destroyed so many years ago- nearly twice as big, but more than twice as powerful. Yet it was only half complete.
Half a steely dark case, it hung above the thriving planet, tentacles of unfinished superstructure curling away toward its living companion like the groping legs of a deadly spider.
A Woodwind cloud destroyer approached the flute station at cruising speed. It was massive- a city itself- yet it moved with deliberate grace, like some great sea dragon. It was accompanied by dozens of twin ion engine fighters- black insect like combat cases that zipped back and forth along the battle case's perimeter: scouting, sounding, docking, and regrouping.
Soundlessly the main bay of the case opened. There was a brief ignition flash as a Woodwind shuttle emerged from the darkness of the hold, into the darkness of space. It sped toward the half-completed Death Flute with quiet purpose.
In the cockpit the shuttle captain and his copilot made final readings and monitored descent functioned. It was a sequence they'd performed a thousand times, yet there was an unusual tension in the air now. The captain flipped the transmitter switch and spoke into his mouthpiece.
"Command station, this is ST321. Code Clearance Blue. We're starting our approach. Deactivate the security shield."
Static filtered over the receiver; then the voice of the port controller: "The security deflector shield will be deactivated when we have confirmation of your code transmission. Standby…"
Once more silence filled the cockpit. The captain bit the inside of his cheek and smiled nervously at his copilot. They refrained from glancing back into the passenger section of the shuttle, now under lights-out for landing. The unmistakable sound of the mechanical breathing coming from the chamber's shadow filled the cabin with a terrible impatience.
The officer in the control room of the Death Flute glanced at the view-screen for only a moment before realizing who was on the shuttle. He strode past the view port, where the shuttle could be seen already making its final approach, and headed toward the docking bay. He turned to the controller.
"Inform the Section Leader that Lord Fred's shuttle has arrived."
The shuttle sat quietly, dwarfed by the cavernous reaches of the huge docking bay. Hundreds of troops stood assembled in formation, flanking the base of the shuttle ramp; white-clad Woodwind sax troopers, gray-suited officers, and the elite red-robed Woodwind Guard. They snapped to attention as Section Leader Betsy entered.
Betsy- short, thin, and arrogant- was the Death Flute commander. She walked without hurry up the ranks of soldiers, to the ramp of the shuttle. Hurry was not in Betsy, for hurry implied a wanting to be elsewhere, and she was a woman who distinctly was exactly where she wanted to be. Great women never hurried (she was fond of saying); great women caused others to hurry.
Yet Betsy was not blind to ambition; and a visit by such a one as this great dark Drum Major could not be taken too lightly. She stood at the shuttle mouth, therefore, waiting- with respect, but not hurry.
Suddenly the exit hatch of the shuttle opened, pulling the troops in formation to even tauter attention. Only darkness glowed from the exit at first; then footsteps; then the characteristic electrical respirations, like the breathing of a machine; and finally Darth Fred, Lord of the Flutes, emerged from the void.
Fred strode down the ramp, looking over the assemblage. He stopped when he came to Betsy. The Section Leader bowed from the neck, and smiled.
"Lord Fred, this is an unexpected pleasure. We are honored by your presence."
"You may dispense with the pleasantries, Section Leader," Fred's words echoed as from the bottom of a well. "I am here to put you back on schedule."
Betsy turned pale. This was news that she'd not expected. "I assure you, Lord Fred, my men are working as fast as they can."
"Perhaps I can find new ways to motivate them," Fred growled ominously. He had ways, of course; this was known. Ways, and ways again.
Betsy kept her tone even, though deep inside, the ghost of hurry began to scrabble at her throat. "I tell you, this station will be operational as planned."
"The Empress does not share your optimistic appraisal of the situation."
"But she asks the impossible. I need more men."
"Then perhaps you could tell her when she arrives," Fred's face remained invisible behind the deathly black mask that protected him; but the malice was clear in the electronically modified voice.
Betsy's pallor intensified. "The Empress is coming here?"
"That is correct, Section Leader. And she is most displeased with your apparent lack of progress," he spoke loudly, to spread the threat over all who could hear.
"We shall double our efforts." And she meant it. For sometimes didn't even great women hurry, in times of great need?
"I hope so, Section Leader, for your sake. The Empress is not as forgiving as I am."
For the briefest second, Fred's breathing seemed to quicken, then resumed its measured pace, like the rising of a hollow wind.
XxX
The fine sand blew hard over the dunes of Littleton. The wind seemed to come from everywhere at once, typhooning in spots, swirling in devil winds here, hovering in stillness there, without pattern or meaning.
A road wound across the desert plain. Its nature changed constantly, at one moment obscured by drifts of ochre sand, the next moment swept clean, or distorted by the heat of the shimmering air above it. A road more ephemeral than navigable; yet a road to be followed, all the same. For it was the only way to reach the palace of Kim the Bass.
Kim was the vilest gangstress in the galaxy. She had her fingers in smuggling, slave-trading, murder; her minions scattered across the planet. She both collected and invented atrocities, and her court was a den of unparalleled decay. It was said by some that Kim had chosen Littleton as her place of residence because only in this acrid crucible of a system could she hope to keep her soul from rotting away altogether. Here the parched sun might bake her humor to a festering brine.
In an case, it was a place few of kind spirit even knew about, let alone approached. It was a place of evil, where even the most courageous felt their powers wilt under the foul gaze of Kim's corruption. But the two students approaching it now didn't seem to realize that.
"Poot-wEEt beDOO gung ooble DEEp!" vocalized Tim2-Sax2.
"Of course I'm worried. And you should be too," A-10dr fussed. "Poor Keith Calrissian never returned from this awful place."
The protocol student waded stiffly through a shifting sand hill, then stopped short, as Kim's palace suddenly loomed, suddenly dark, in the near distance. Tim2 almost bumped into him, quickly skidding to the side of the road. He beeped timidly.
"Don't be so sure," A-10 continued as they walked the desolate final stretch of road. "If I told you half the things I've heard about this Kim the Bass…you'd probably short-circuit."
At last they reached the gates of the palace: massive iron doors, taller than A-10 could see- part of a series of stone and iron walls, forming several gigantic cylindrical towers that seemed to rise out of a mountain of black sand.
"Tim2, are you sure this is the right place?" A-10 asked nervously.
Tim2 just beeped confidently. How many giant palaces did one find in the middle of a desert?
"I'd better knock, I suppose," A-10 said as he raised his hand and softly knocked three times on the huge metal gate, then quickly turned around and announced to Tim2, "There doesn't seem to be anyone here. Lets go back and tell Master Chris."
Suddenly a small hatch opened in the center of the door and a spindly mechanical arm popped out right in A-10's face. An electronic eye was affixed to this and it quickly fired off a string of rapid-fire questions in Spanish. Such as "Who are you?" and "Why are you here?"
"Goodness gracious me!" A-10 blithered, shocked for a moment. But once he had gathered himself he began to answer the robot's questions. Once it was satisfied, the robotic camera drew itself back into the hatch, saying nothing more.
"I don't think they're going to let us in, Tim2," A-10 said, sounding a bit miffed. "We'd better go."
But no sooner had A-10 turned to leave than there was a giant, groaning noise and the gate began to lift up. Tim2 just strolled right in.
"Tim2, wait!" A-10 shouted as he ran after him. "Tim2, I really don't think we should rush into all this!"
Tim2 was about to turn and give A-10 a smart remark when he suddenly ran into something in the darkness of the entry hall. He heard an angry grunt and looked up to find himself staring into the face of an ugly pig like creature. Tim2 realized that these were the infamous Gamorreans- beings that were once human. They had been the people who could not play any type of instrument when the band order took over and they refused to adapt to the new way of life. Over time these people had devolved into this hideous pig like race, continuing to spawn others like them. Those unwilling to learn the higher art.
Three of them quickly surrounded Tim2.
"Just deliver Master Chris' message and get us out of here. Oh, my!" A-10 cried out when he came up and saw what was surrounding Tim2.
But suddenly another figure came out of the darkness. He was dressed in dinghy black robes and he wore a rather large headdress. This was Dusty Fortuna, the inelegant major-domo of Kim's degenerate court.
Dusty approached the group and questioned the two new arrivals in Spanish.
"W-we bring a message to your master, Kim the Bass," A-10 stuttered. Tim2 beeped a postscript, upon which A-10 nodded and added, "And a gift." He thought about this a moment, looked as puzzled as it was possible for a student to look, and whispered loudly to Tim2, "Gift? What gift?"
But Dusty didn't care for the protocol student's driveling. He held out his hand toward Tim2. The small student backed away meekly, but his protest was lengthy. He was positively defiant, beeping and whistling at Fortuna and A-10 as if they'd both had their programs erased.
A-10 just sighed in frustration. "He says that our instructions are to give it only to Kim herself." Dusty considered the problem at hand as A-10 went on explaining. "I'm terribly sorry. I'm afraid he's ever so stubborn about these sorts of things," he managed to throw a disparaging yet loving tone into his voice as he looked down at his smaller associate.
At last, Dusty gave up on the two students, shouted something in Spanish, and led them the rest of the way down the stone corridor.
"Tim2," A-10 began nervously. "I have a bad feeling about this."
XxX
A-10 and Tim2 stood at the entrance to the throne room, looking in.
The room was filled, wall to cavernous wall, with the animate dregs of the world. Grotesque creatures from the lowest systems, drunk on spiced liquors and their own fetid vapors. Gamorreans, other twisted half-humans, Trumpets -- all reveling in base pleasures, or raucously comparing mean feats. And at the front of the room, reclining on a dais that overlooked the debauchery, was Kim the Bass.
Her body was twice as small as any normal human, and her eyes were of a strange, yellow, reptilian quality. Her short blonde hair curled limply about her head and her skin was somewhat lizard-like, except for being covered in a fine sheen of grease. Stunted arms sprouted from her upper body, the greasy fingers of her left hand languidly wrapped around the smoking end of her water pipe. She was clad scantily in a strange leather outfit. And perched next to her was a monkey-like human with leathery skin named Parker Crumb, who caught all the food that fell from Kim's hands or mouth and ate it with a nauseating cackle. She was quite thoroughly disgusting.
Chained to her, chained at the neck, was a sad, pretty, dancing-girl, she wore a large headdress very much like Dusty's, the tendrils of cloth from it hanging suggestively down her bare, muscled back. Her name was Erin. Looking forlorn, she sat as far away as her chain would allow, at the other end of the dais.
Shafts of light from above partially illuminated the drunken courtiers as Dusty Fortuna crossed the floor to the dais. The room was composed of an endless series of alcoves within alcoves, so that much of what went on was, in any case, visible only as shadow and movement. When Dusty reached the throne, he delicately leaned forward and whispered in the tiny monarch's ear. Kim's eyes became slits, then with a maniacal laugh she motioned for the two students to be brought in. She wheezed something in Spanish, and then lapsed into a fit of coughing. Though she understood several languages, as a point of honor she only spoke Spanish. Her only such point.
The quaking androids scooted forward to stand before the repulsive ruler, though she grossly violated their most deeply programmed sensibilities.
"The message, Tim2, the message," A-10 urged.
Tim2 quickly punched in a sequence of keys on his tenor sax and a beam of light projected from the bell of the instrument, creating a hologram of Chris Skywalker that stood before them on the floor. Quickly the image grew to over ten feet tall, until the young Trombone warrior towered over the assembled throng. All at once the room grew quiet, as Chris' giant presence made itself felt.
"Greetings, Exalted One," the hologram said to Kim. "I am Chris Skywalker, Trombone Knight and friend to Captain Solo. I seek an audience with Your Greatness to bargain for Solo's life."
At this, the entire room burst into a fit of laughter, which Kim silenced with a hand motion. Chris did not pause for long.
"I know that you are powerful, mighty Kim, and that your anger with Solo must be equally powerful. But with your wisdom, I'm sure that we could work out an arrangement which would be mutually beneficial…and enable us to avoid any unpleasant confrontation. As a token of my good will, I present to you a gift -- these two students."
A-10 jumped back as if stung. "What did he say!"
Chris continued. "Both are hard working, and will serve you well." With that, the hologram disappeared.
A-10 wagged his head in despair. "This can't be! Tim2! You're playing the wrong message!"
Kim just laughed. Dusty leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Kim nodded in agreement. Still grinning, she rasped at A-10 in Spanish, "There will be no bargain. I will not give up my favorite decoration." With a hideous chuckle she looked over to the dimly lit alcove beside the throne. "I like Captain Solo where he is."
In the alcove, hanging flat against the wall was the spitized form of Keoni Solo, his face and hands emerging out of the cold, hard slab, like a statue reaching from a sea of stone.
"Tim2, look!" A-10 cried out in surprise. "Captain Solo. And he's still frozen in spit!"
XxX
"What could possibly have come over Master Chris?" A-10 fretted to himself as he and Tim2 were led down a dark, dank, hallway. "Was it something I did? He never expressed any unhappiness with my work."
Tim2 just gave a musical sigh at the taller student's worrying. Although he himself couldn't help but wonder if this was really for the best when he and A-10 were brought into a cramped chamber at the end of the corridor. And from the looks of it…this room was a student torture chamber!
Tim2 barely managed to contain his anxiety and it was all A-10 could do to keep from screaming. But both of them jumped when a voice broke into their terrified thoughts.
"Ah, good. New acquisitions. You are a protocol student, are you not?"
A-10 looked over to see a tall, blond student wearing a purple armband; an administrative student.
"I am A-10dr, human-student re-"
"Yes or no will do," the student interrupted him brusquely.
"Oh…well yes," A-10 stuttered, a bit miffed at being interrupted.
"How many languages do you speak?"
"I am fluent in over six million forms of communication and can v-"
"Splendid," the student interrupted him yet again. "We have been without an interpreter since our master got angry with our last protocol student and disintegrated him."
"Disintegrated?" A-10 whispered aloud. Any trace of color drained from his face.
"Guard!" the student shouted to one of the Gamorreans, ignoring A-10's frightened squeaks. "This protocol student might be useful. Fit him with a restraining strap and take him back up to her Excellency's main audience chamber."
"Tim2! Don't leave me!" A-10 shouted helplessly as two of the Gamorreans dragged him from the room.
Tim2 whistled with concern and turned to the administrative student, firing off a string of whistled insults.
"You're a feisty little one. But you'll soon learn some respect," the student said condescendingly. "I have need for you on the mistress' sail barge."
Tim2 could only shudder to think of what that need might be.
XxX
A-10 watched the festivities of Kim's court with…trepidation, to put it mildly. A troupe of traveling double reeds was performing, and that was cause enough for worry. But A-10 was more afraid of being swept out into the dancing throng of drunken revelers. From his place behind Kim's throne, A-10 could see beings so drunk that they simply passed out in the crowd and were crushed painfully beneath their feet. And in the middle of it all sat Kim on her throne, watching Erin dance.
The young slave girl was out on the dance floor as far away as her chain would allow. Her slender body twisting, leaping, and rolling in time to the music. Kim watched her avidly, licking her lips all the while. Eventually she called to Erin, tugging on the chain and beckoning her to come and sit beside her. Erin's eyes bugged out in terror. Apparently she had suffered such invitations before. She grabbed at the chain and desperately tried to yank it from Kim's grasp. Kim shouted angrily at her but Erin continued to protest in her strange Arabic language.
Kim had had enough. She released the chain and slammed her fist into a button located on the dais. A trap door beneath Erin's feet sprang open and the poor girl tumbled into it. Kim closed the trap door and her subjects immediately gathered around the grate to watch the gruesome demise of the beautiful dancing girl.
A-10 couldn't see anything from where he was but his eyes widened and he gulped nervously when Erin's terrified shrieks and the howling of some horrible beast echoed up from the cavern below. Then all was silent.
But the silence was broken by a commotion at the main entrance. Gamorreans and pit hunters could be heard shouting in the corridor. Suddenly a pit hunter came flying down the stairs, crashing into the floor and lying completely still. The source of this soon followed. A pit hunter, masked and cloaked so that no one could identify the person's sex, or even confirm if it was human, came down the stairwell leading a chained young man. This tall, blond human was the one who had thrown the pit hunter.
"I have come for the bounty on this man," the creature said in Greek as it approached the throne. There was a voice modulator in the mask. Still no easy identification of gender or species.
"Oh no, Bruchacca!" A-10 whispered in horror recognizing the prisoner. But Kim just smirked at the young man chained to the pit hunter.
"At last we have the mighty Bruchacca," she exalted in Spanish. "Talk student!"
A-10 snapped to attention at being summoned and scurried around to the front of Kim's dais.
"Yes! Yes. I am here, your Worshipfulness. Yes?"
Kim gave him her command and gestured at the pit hunter. A-10 quickly stepped towards the two new arrivals and began his speech.
"The illustrious Kim bids you welcome and will gladly pay you the reward of twenty-five thousand."
"I want fifty-thousand. No less!" the hunter demanded.
A-10 returned to Kim and gave her the message.
"Fifty-thousand. No less."
This angered Kim. She lashed out with one of her stunted arms and sent A-10 tumbling off the dais. He scrambled back to his feet as quick as he could, half his face covered in some strange green goop he'd fallen in.
"What do I say?" he asked fearfully.
Kim glared at him and fired off a stream of insults and other remarks but A-10 got the basic gist of what she wanted to say.
"The mighty Kim asks why she must pay fifty-thousand."
The pit hunter's expression remained unreadable behind the mask, but the creature said simply, "Because of this," and removed a pocket-sized explosive from the folds of its cloak.
"Because he's holding a cymbal detonator!" A-10 shouted in panic.
At these words, several other pit hunters stationed throughout the throne room raise mallet lasers, ready to gun down the intruder. But they all stood down when they realized that Kim was laughing. Her bout of wicked laughter lasted about five minutes before she addressed the hunter.
"This pit hunter is my kind of scum; fearless and inventive. I will give thirty-five thousand and no more."
"Kim offers the sum of thirty-five," A-10 informed the hunter. "And I do suggest you take it."
The pit hunter seemed to consider this for a moment…and tucked the detonator back into its cloak.
"He agrees!" A-10 cried out, relieved.
Once the transaction was complete Kim signaled two Gamorreans forward. They grabbed Bruchacca and dragged him, kicking and howling to the dungeons.
The courtiers soon went back to their merry-making. As far as they were concerned the whole business was over. Only one other in the room continued to watch the nameless pit hunter. A fellow pit hunter who had never completely lowered her weapon. The notorious hunter, Chelsea Fett herself. There was something about this particular hunter that Fett just didn't like. She would be sure to keep her eye on the mystery hunter.
XxX
A full moon shown down on the desert plains of the Littleton System. The cool, white light gave the burning sands a short reprieve from the punishing rays of the sun. It was at this rare time that the halls of Kim the Bass's palace were silent. Beings lay sprawled about the floors, sleeping where they had fallen; either passed out from drink or just too tired to seek out a more comfortable place. However, one person remained awake, trying to find a route through the piles of snoring bodies. It was the mystery pit hunter.
He, she, or whatever it was, threaded its way past the "royal" dais and into the alcove beside it where the spitized body of Keoni Solo still hung. The hunter surveyed the tragic sight; taking in the frozen hands reaching out from the cold, heartless spit. Then the hunter began to fiddle with the controls on the frame the body was encased in. Once it was satisfied, the pit hunter stepped back to watch the process.
Slowly but surely, the frozen spit started to melt. The frozen fingers began to move again and the open mouth twisted as it began to take in air again. Finally, Keoni Solo slid free of his melting prison and collapsed onto the floor. The hunter knelt down next to him and gently put its hands on his shoulders. This person knew that these first few moments were crucial. If things didn't progress slowly then reawakening could drive the man insane. So the hunter waited while Keoni went through what could possibly be the worst experience of his life.
Air. That's what it was. Cold, intrusive, howling air. It shrieked in his ears and raked its frigid fingers across his skin after an endless silence. The slightest puff of air felt like gale-force wind to him. A million different smells were carried on that wind and they assaulted his nose. And the blessed, cruel air rushed into his lungs, finally satisfying that horrible craving like that pool of cold water after being lost in the desert. It seemed that he had spent an eternity trying to move, trying to scream…trying to breathe.
Keoni Solo had finally come back to himself. When the pit hunter saw him start to shake, it lifted him up into a sitting position.
"Just relax for a moment. You're free of the spit," the hunter told him. "You have hibernation sickness."
"I can't see," Keoni said, his voice bordering panic.
"You're eyesight will return in time."
"Where am I?"
"Kim's palace."
Just then, another question occurred to Keoni that he should be asking whomever this was.
"Who are you?"
At this question, the pit hunter finally pulled off the mask, revealing a soft, feminine face and short blond hair.
"Someone who loves you," Princess Amanda whispered, taking his face tenderly in her still-gloved hands and kissing him long on the lips.
"Amanda," he whispered weakly, straining to see her though he had the eyes of a newborn.
"I've gotta get you out of here," she said, helping him rise shakily to his feet.
She looked at him a long moment, her blinded love. She'd traveled many miles to find him, risked her life, lost hard-won time sorely needed by the Brass, time she couldn't really afford to throw away on personal quests and private desires…but she loved him. Tears filled her eyes. Impulsively, she embraced him and kissed him again. He, too, was flooded with emotion all at once; back from the dead, the beautiful princess filling his arms, snatching him back from the teeth of the void. He felt overwhelmed. Unable to move, even to speak, he held her tightly, his blind eyes closed fast against all the sordid realities that would come rushing in soon enough.
Sooner than that, as it happened. An obscene cackle rose from the alcove beyond. Keoni held his head, closed his eyes again, as if to keep away the inevitable for just one more moment.
"I know that laugh."
A curtain on the far side was suddenly drawn open. There sat Kim, Chelsea, Dusty with his hands held over A-10's mouth to keep him quiet, and several guards. They all laughed, kept laughing, laughed to punish.
"My, my, what a touching sight," Kim purred. "Keoni, my boy, your taste in companions has improved, even if your luck has not."
Even blind, Keoni Solo was still the smoothest talker in the world. He quickly turned to face the direction the voices were coming from.
"Hey, Kim, look. I was just on my way to pay you back and I got a little side-tracked. It's not my fault-"
"It's too late for that, Solo," Kim cut him off. This time she genuinely chuckled. "You may have been a good smuggler…but now you're drummer fodder. Take him! I will decide how to kill him later."
Guards came and tore the two apart. Two of them started to lead Keoni away.
"Kim! I'll pay you triple. You're throwing away a fortune here. Don't be a fool!"
"Bring her to me," Kim ordered the rest of the guards.
They grabbed her roughly and began to lead her to him. Amanda's eyes opened wide when she realized that one of the guards was Keith Calrissian. She knew that he had infiltrated the palace to help them get Keoni out. But she thought he would have left already. The entire plan was falling apart!
But Amanda quickly wiped the surprise from her face and stood straighter. There was business to attend to. For her to be trapped in this dust ball of a system while the rest of the world was at war was unacceptable. So she retained her dignity as she was lead to the foul gangsteress.
"We have powerful friends," she said calmly to Kim's grotesque reptilian face. "You're going to regret this."
"I'm sure," Kim sneered with her thin lips, eyeing Amanda. "I'm sure."
XxX
Keoni was thrown roughly into the dungeon cell; the door crashed shut behind him. He fell to the floor in the darkness, then picked himself up and sat against the wall. After a few moments of pounding the ground with his fist, he quieted down and tried to organize his thoughts.
Darkness. Well, blast it, blind is blind. Only it was so frustrating. Coming out of deep-freeze like that, saved by the one person who…
Amanda! The trumpet captain's stomach dropped at the thought of what must be happening to her now: If only he new where he was! Tentatively he knocked on the wall behind him. Solid rock.
What could he do? Bargain, maybe. But what did he have to bargain with? Dumb question, he thought. When did I ever have to have something before I could bargain with it?
What, though? Money? Kim had more than she could ever count. Pleasures? Nothing could give Kim more pleasure than to defile the princess and kill Solo. No, things were bad; in fact, it didn't look like they could get much worse.
Then he heard the growl. A low, formidable snarl from out of the dense blackness at the far end of the cell; the growl of a large, angry beast. The hair on Keoni's arms stood on end. Quickly he rose, his back to the wall.
The wild creature bellowed out an insane "Groawwwwr!" and raced straight at Keoni, grabbing him ferociously around the chest, lifting him several feet into the air, squeezing off his breathing. Keoni was totally motionless for several long seconds. He couldn't believe his ears.
"Bruce, is that you?"
The large man barked with joy.
For the second time in an hour, Keoni was overcome with happiness; but this was an entirely different matter.
"Bruce! I can't see, pal."
Bruchacca set his friend down.
"What's goin' on?" Keoni was instantly back on track. Here was unbelievably good fortune. Here was someone he could make a plan with. And not just someone, but his most loyal friend in the world.
Bruce filled him in at length, grunting and barking in his form of mutilated English.
"Chris? Chris's crazy. He can't even take care of himself, much less rescue anybody," Keoni said, almost to himself, somehow managing to understand Bruce. But Bruce continued to explain the situation over Keoni's raging.
"A- aTrombone Knight? I'm out of it for a little while and everybody gets delusions of grandeur."
Bruchacca barked insistently but Keoni just nodded dubiously.
"Well, I'll believe it when I see it," he commented, walking stoutly into the wall. "If you'll excuse the expression."
XxX