STAR WARS: ADVENTURES OF BUCK RYDUR - BOOK 1 PART 1 FREEDOM'S PRICE

Chapter Two

Chapter 2

Every day I made sure to keep my valuables hidden. I didn't dare wear my medallion, not even hidden under my shirt. If Solii ever found it, he'd pawn it off for sure.

Another week passed by, and he went on reminding me who was the slave and who was the owner. Name calling was one of his favorite ways to pass the time. Swearing and cursing weren't alien at the Master's, but Solii took it to a whole new level, and in lots of different languages. I took it all quietly, obeying his every order without retort, but it only seemed to make him meaner.

One day I was washing the front counter when I got that feeling again, an instinctive urge to move. I ducked just as a glob of goo flew overhead, soaring over the counter to land smack in the face of a small Anx. The reptilian humanoid let out a yelp of surprise and fell off his stool, tail flailing, knocking his tall crest on the edge of the bar. Luckily for me, Solii found it very funny.

"Sorry 'bout that," my owner called to him, guffawing. "How 'bout a drink on the house?"

Scowling, I grabbed a crate-full of dirty glasses and lugged it back to the cleaning droid. That's when I heard Solii say to someone, "Yaayaah there, ol' buddy! What can I get for ya?"

A familiar voice replied, "I'll have a twistler, if you don't mind."

"Hey scamp!" Solii called to me. "Get out here and fix this guy a twistler!"

I rolled my eyes slightly and obeyed. Solii had taken to showing off by ordering me around in front of patrons, and I did not enjoy it. But this customer happened to be the Epicanthix who'd spoken to me once before. What's his name? Slicker? He looked maybe in his late thirties, but it's common knowledge Epicanthix age slower than Humans, so he could've been anywhere from thirty to seventy years old. His black hair and short, rugged beard were trimmed. Even his clothes looked relatively clean.

Realizing I was staring, I concentrated on mixing the twistler, made with Corellian brandy and tart fruit juice.

The man pushed over a trugut as I set the drink on the counter. "Keep the change."

Solii reached over and swiped the money before I could pick it up, then went to the other end of the bar. I started back in the direction of the kitchen.

"Hold up there, kid."

I turned back.

Slicker rubbed the rim of his glass, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Solii works you hard, don't he."

"Sometimes."

"C'mon, cut the phobium." Slicker took a sip of his twistler. "Does he beat you?"

I hesitated. "No."

He studied me with hard, ebony eyes. "No offense, kid, but you're a terrible liar."

I lowered my gaze.

He motioned to the side of my forehead. "Where'd you get that bruise?"

"Got in a fight." That part was true; big kids who liked to hang around the cantina often picked fights with me whenever I stepped foot outside.

"With who?"

I shrugged one shoulder. "Some kid named Ghano."

"He give you that cut too?" Slicker pointed to the scab stretching from near the side of my nose, down across my left cheek toward the corner of my jaw.

I nodded though that particular mark was actually from Solii.

"Hope you returned the favor."

"Ghano has seven kilos on me, and he's a Dug. Whatever hits I landed didn't hurt him much."

"Hm." Slicker took another swallow of his drink. "What would you think if I offered to buy you?"

I looked up in complete surprise. "Not sure. Anyhow, Solii wouldn't let me go cheap."

"You got a point there," the Epicanthix agreed.

I noticed the weapon at his side, a heavy blaster pistol. "You a spacer?"

"I'm a star-hopper of sorts," he allowed. "I like to call myself an independent agent of creative enterprises."

"What's that mean?"

"Means I go where I want when I want, and I do what I want where I go."

Just then Solii turned around and glared at me. "You're supposed to be in the kitchen!"

"Counter's dirty."

He growled, pushing me aside as he moved off to serve somebody else. I started scrubbing.

"He's not that tough, y'know," Slicker spoke quietly. "Just confront him, show him who's boss, and he'll leave ya alone."

"He knows who's boss," I mumbled.

Slicker jabbed a finger at me. "You need to be the boss.

"I'm a slave."

"Still. He treats his droids better than you. You should stand up for yourself."

I made no response.

"How did you become a slave in the first place?"

"My old Master bought me at an auction."

"Got any family?"

". . . I don't know. Can't remember."

The Epicanthix grunted. "Ever tried running away?"

"Running away to where?"

Slicker studied me for a long moment, then went back to his drink.

***TO BE CON'T***