Luke found himself squinting as they entered the cantina. It was darker inside

than he would have liked. Perhaps the regular habitués of this place were

unaccustomed to the light of day, or didn't wish to be seen clearly. It didn't occur to

Luke that the dim interior in combination with the brilliantly lit entrance permitted

everyone inside to see each newcomer before he could see them.

Moving inward, Luke was astonished at the variety of beings making use of the

bar. There were one-eyed creatures and thousand-eyed, creature with scales,

creatures with fur, and some with skin that seemed to ripple and change consistency

according to their feelings of the moment.

Hovering near the bar itself was a towering insectoid that Luke glimpsed only as

a threatening shadow. It contrasted with two of the tallest women Luke had ever

seen. They were among the most normal looking of the outrageous assemblage of

humans that mixed freely among alien counterparts. Tentacles, claws, and hands

were wrapped around drinking utensils of various sizes and shapes. Conversation

was a steady babble of human and alien tongues.

Leaning close, Kenobi gestured toward the far end of the bar. A small knot of

rough-looking humans lounged there, drinking laughing, and trading stories of

dubious origin.

"Corellians-pirates, most likely."

"I thought we were looking for an independent freighter captain with his own

ship for hire," Luke whispered back.

"So we are, young Luke, so we are," agreed Kenobi. "And there's bound to be

one or two adequate for our needs among that group. It's just that in Corellian

terminology the distinction between who owns what cargo tends to get a little

muddled from time to time. Wait here."

Luke nodded and watched as Kenobi worked his way through the crowd. The

Correllians' suspicion at his approach vanished as soon as he engaged them in

conversation.

Something grabbed Luke's shoulder and spun him around.

"Hey" Looking around and struggling to regain his composure, he found

himself staring up at an enormous, scruffy-looking human. Luke saw by the man's

clothing that he must be the bartender, if not the owner of this cantina.

"We don't serve their kind in here," the glaring form growled.

"What?" Luke replied dumbly. He still hadn't recovered from his sudden

submergence into the cultures of several dozen races. It was rather different from

the poolroom behind the Anchorhead power station. "Your 'droids," the bartender

explained impatiently, gesturing with a thick thumb. Luke peered in the indicated

direction, to see Artoo and Threepio standing quietly nearby. "They'll have to wait

outside. We don't serve them in here. I only carry stuff for organics, not," he

concluded with an expression of distaste, "mechanicals."

Luke didn't like the idea of kicking Threepio and Artoo out, but he didn't know

how else to deal with the problem. The bartender didn't appear to be the sort who

would readily respond to reason, and when he looked around for old Ben, Luke saw

that he was locked in deep conversation with one of the Corellians.

Meanwhile, the discussion had attracted the attention of several especially

gruesome-looking types who happened to be clustered within hearing range. Al

were regarding Luke and the two 'droids in a decidedly unfriendly fashion.

"Yes, of course," Luke said, realizing this wasn't the time or place to force the

issue of 'droid rights. "I'm sorry." He looked over at Threepio. "You'd better

stay outside with the speeder. We don't want any trouble in here."

"I heartily agree with you, sir," Threepio said, his gaze traveling past Luke and

the bartender to take in the unfriendly stares at the bar. "I don't feel the need for

lubrication at the moment anyway." With Artoo waddling in his wake, the tall robot

hastily headed for the exit.
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