The Kitchen Maid

The Kitchen Maid
The British Are Coming
The Broken Pitcher
The Jewel Casket
Leaning close, Kenobi gestured toward the far end of the bar. A small knot ofrough-looking humans lounged there, drinking laughing, and trading stories ofdubious origin. "Corellians—pirates, most likely." "I thought we were looking for an independent freighter captain with his ownship for hire," Luke whispered back. "So we are, young Luke, so we are," agreed Kenobi. "And there's bound to beone or two adequate for our needs among that group. It's just that in Corellianterminology the distinction between who owns what cargo tends to get a littlemuddled from time to time. Wait here." Luke nodded and watched as Kenobi worked his way through the crowd. TheCorrellians' suspicion at his approach vanished as soon as he engaged them inconversation. Something grabbed Luke's shoulder and spun him around. "Hey" Looking around and struggling to regain his composure, he foundhimself staring up at an enormous, scruffy-looking human. Luke saw by the man'sclothing 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 suddensubmergence into the cultures of several dozen races. It was rather different fromthe poolroom behind the Anchorhead power station. "Your 'droids," the bartenderexplained impatiently, gesturing with a thick thumb. Luke peered in the indicateddirection, to see Artoo and Threepio standing quietly nearby. "They'll have to waitoutside. We don't serve them in here. I only carry stuff for organics, not," heconcluded with an expression of distaste, "mechanicals."