Tycho's eyes narrowed in confusion again, even as he was backing up more quickly. "Hungry ...?" But the question became completely lost as the boy launched himself at Tycho. The pilot's reflexes were excellent; they had to be, for him to be one of the best pilots in the galaxy. Still, at the same time, Sam was moving at a speed that his ordinary human joints and sinew couldn't hope to match. He got a shot off, and the blaster bolt might have grazed Sam's shoulder, might even have hit a little closer than that, but Tycho couldn't tell, because then this ... creature was on him, clawing an ripping and there were slashes being torn in Tycho's orange flight-suit, lines of red being drawn in the skin underneath. Tycho hit out with his other hand even as he fell, collapsing backwards under his attacker's weight. Shooting blasters as such close quarters was very difficult, and dangerous, but Tycho tried again anyway, attempting to bring the nozzle of his blaster down so that he could get a half-way decent shot in ...