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

Chapter 8 *Cont.*

Midday. Almost time to meet Robyn for lunch. I'd done well so far; six jeweled bracelets, two necklaces with precious stones, a dozen rings and pocketbooks, a handful of credit chips and coins, and an air pistol I took from a Balosar teenager who made the mistake of trying to bully me.

The pistol I'm going to keep for myself. It's silver and tiny, light, fits perfectly in my hand, and its shiny silver plating and shape make it look like a toy. Best of all it's as powerful as a striker projectile pistol, and almost brand new. Not one of its twenty slugs were missing. Now all I needed was a holster.

I paused outside a diner, the one Robyn had said he'd meet me at. Looking in I could see it wasn't state of the art, but better than the ones on Ocix Prime. It was clean, airy, and the food smells wafting my way were very appetizing. The few customers seemed respectable enough, eating and talking, minding their own business.

"Buck?"

I turned as Robyn came up. "How'd you do?" he questioned.

"Got a sizable haul. What do I do with it?"

"Keep it for now. We'll take it back to the apartment later." He straightened as two stormtroopers passed close by us. "C'mon, let's eat," he declared, nudging me inside.

A server droid appeared in front of us, balanced on a single wheel. "Welcome young masters," it greeted us in a bored male voice. "Take a seat; I'll be with you in a moment."

"Thanks." Robyn led me over to a booth to wait. "So, did you use your powers at all?"

"Not really."

He studied me. "Still worried about someone findin' out, are ya?"

I shrugged as the server droid approached. "What can I getcha boys?" it asked.

"I'll have spiceloaf with potato sticks on the side," Robyn told it.

"And would you care for a beverage?"

"Corellian ale."

The droid looked him over. "Aren't you a little young for ale?"

"I'm a payin' customer, rust bucket. I can have what I want."

If a droid could roll its eyes, that's what this one did.

"Hey!" a gruff voice came from nearby. A sour-looking manager with a cybernetic eye scowled at us. "We don't serve street rats here. GeeDouble-U, get these kids out."

The server droid grabbed us by our arms and began dragging us toward the door.

"Hey wait a minute! We can pay--" Robyn began.

The man cut him off. "I don't take stolen goods. Last thing I need is Imperials breathin' down my neck."

My mind scrambled for a solution. "W-wait! What if we earn some food?"

The manager held up a hand, and the droid paused in hauling us off. He eyed me suspiciously. "And how's a little scamp like you gonna do that?"

"I used to work in a cantina. Let me do some serving or something! Only cost you two meals. Please?" I hoped my big blue eyes were doing their thing.

The man looked me over for a minute, metallic eye twitching. "I don't need no extra servers but . . ." he hesitated grudgingly. "You ain't bad lookin', and my main performer called in sick; she usually draws me a good crowd." He scratched his jaw. "Think you could sing a song or two?"