Duros voice. “Only membrosia.”
“Will this one like it?”
The Duros nodded. “Everyone likes membrosia.”
“Then I’ll have the same,” Luke said, passing his mug over.
The Duros studied Luke’s face for a moment, clearly struggling to place it in some context other than a pair of well-worn flight utilities.
“I’m just a pilot,” Luke said, reinforcing the Force illusion he was using to disguise himself. “A
thirsty
pilot.”
“Sure.”
The Duros turned to the nearest dispenser and filled both mugs with a thick amber liquid, then returned the cups. Luke pulled a ten-credit voucher from his pocket, but the Duros waved it off.
“Nobody pays here.”
“Nobody payz?” Saba echoed. “This one doesn’t believe you.”
A hint of indignation permeated the Force, then the Duros shrugged and looked back to the Verpine musicians.
Saba studied him for a moment, then glanced at Luke. “This one is tired. She will find a seat.”
She took a sip from her mug, then started to work her way deeper into the cantina. The Duros looked as though he wished Luke would join her, but Luke remained where he was, pouring camaraderie and goodwill into the Force. The Duros’ aloofness did not melt until Saba raised a storm of angry jabbering by taking an empty seat in front of an Ewok.
“
This
should be interesting.” The Duros grinned. “That little Ewok has a death mark in ten systems.”
“You don’t say.” Luke took a sip of membrosia. It was sweet and thick and potent, warming him from his toes to his ear tips. He allowed himself a moment to savor the sense of well-being that came with the intoxicating heat, then asked the Duros, “Have you been here long?”
“Too long,” the Duros said. “Turns out Lizil doesn’t use processing chips, and now I can’t get a cargo out.”
“Is that a common problem?”
“Common, but not a problem.” The Duros waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the membrosia dispensers. “Everything’s free, and you can stay as long as you want.”
“Very generous,” Luke said. “What’s the catch?”
“Isn’t one,” the Duros said. “Except you get used to it, and then you don’t
want
to leave.”
“That sounds like a catch to me,” Luke said.
“Depends on how you look at it,” the Duros admitted. “Especially if you have obligations at home.”
“Why don’t you just take your chips back to the known galaxy?” Luke asked. “With so many manufacturing worlds destroyed by the war, the Galactic Alliance is desperate for processing chips.”
“Too dangerous.” The Duros cocked his big head toward Luke. “You wouldn’t want some kriffing bounty hunter to catch you with these particular chips.”
“Ah,” Luke said. Lando and Tendra had put up a million-credit reward for a load of specialized processing chips that had been hijacked on its way to Tendrando Arms’ new rehab-droid factory. “That makes sense.”
“Void-breathing right it does,” the Duros said. “Already had five Jedi come through on my tail. That’s when I decided to dump the load.”
Luke tried not to wince at the loss of the vital chips. “You’re sure the Jedi were looking for
you
?”
“Who else would they be looking for?” The Duros shook his head, then said, “I knew Calrissian had pull with the Jedi, but who’d have guessed it was
that
strong?”
“Not me,” Luke answered. He stepped closer to the Duros and lowered his voice. “Were they fairly young? A couple of humans with a Barabel and a Wookiee?”
“And a Twi’lek.” The Duros’ voice grew suspicious, and he began to ease away from Luke. “How’d you know?”
“I’ve got a little problem of my own with them,” Luke said. “And I don’t want to find them waiting at my next stop. Know where they went?”
The Duros watched the Verpine band for a moment, no doubt trying to find a way to work an angle for himself. Luke poured a little more goodwill into the Force, and finally the Duros
“Will this one like it?”
The Duros nodded. “Everyone likes membrosia.”
“Then I’ll have the same,” Luke said, passing his mug over.
The Duros studied Luke’s face for a moment, clearly struggling to place it in some context other than a pair of well-worn flight utilities.
“I’m just a pilot,” Luke said, reinforcing the Force illusion he was using to disguise himself. “A
thirsty
pilot.”
“Sure.”
The Duros turned to the nearest dispenser and filled both mugs with a thick amber liquid, then returned the cups. Luke pulled a ten-credit voucher from his pocket, but the Duros waved it off.
“Nobody pays here.”
“Nobody payz?” Saba echoed. “This one doesn’t believe you.”
A hint of indignation permeated the Force, then the Duros shrugged and looked back to the Verpine musicians.
Saba studied him for a moment, then glanced at Luke. “This one is tired. She will find a seat.”
She took a sip from her mug, then started to work her way deeper into the cantina. The Duros looked as though he wished Luke would join her, but Luke remained where he was, pouring camaraderie and goodwill into the Force. The Duros’ aloofness did not melt until Saba raised a storm of angry jabbering by taking an empty seat in front of an Ewok.
“
This
should be interesting.” The Duros grinned. “That little Ewok has a death mark in ten systems.”
“You don’t say.” Luke took a sip of membrosia. It was sweet and thick and potent, warming him from his toes to his ear tips. He allowed himself a moment to savor the sense of well-being that came with the intoxicating heat, then asked the Duros, “Have you been here long?”
“Too long,” the Duros said. “Turns out Lizil doesn’t use processing chips, and now I can’t get a cargo out.”
“Is that a common problem?”
“Common, but not a problem.” The Duros waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the membrosia dispensers. “Everything’s free, and you can stay as long as you want.”
“Very generous,” Luke said. “What’s the catch?”
“Isn’t one,” the Duros said. “Except you get used to it, and then you don’t
want
to leave.”
“That sounds like a catch to me,” Luke said.
“Depends on how you look at it,” the Duros admitted. “Especially if you have obligations at home.”
“Why don’t you just take your chips back to the known galaxy?” Luke asked. “With so many manufacturing worlds destroyed by the war, the Galactic Alliance is desperate for processing chips.”
“Too dangerous.” The Duros cocked his big head toward Luke. “You wouldn’t want some kriffing bounty hunter to catch you with these particular chips.”
“Ah,” Luke said. Lando and Tendra had put up a million-credit reward for a load of specialized processing chips that had been hijacked on its way to Tendrando Arms’ new rehab-droid factory. “That makes sense.”
“Void-breathing right it does,” the Duros said. “Already had five Jedi come through on my tail. That’s when I decided to dump the load.”
Luke tried not to wince at the loss of the vital chips. “You’re sure the Jedi were looking for
you
?”
“Who else would they be looking for?” The Duros shook his head, then said, “I knew Calrissian had pull with the Jedi, but who’d have guessed it was
that
strong?”
“Not me,” Luke answered. He stepped closer to the Duros and lowered his voice. “Were they fairly young? A couple of humans with a Barabel and a Wookiee?”
“And a Twi’lek.” The Duros’ voice grew suspicious, and he began to ease away from Luke. “How’d you know?”
“I’ve got a little problem of my own with them,” Luke said. “And I don’t want to find them waiting at my next stop. Know where they went?”
The Duros watched the Verpine band for a moment, no doubt trying to find a way to work an angle for himself. Luke poured a little more goodwill into the Force, and finally the Duros
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