Star Wars_ Darth Bane 01_ Path of Destruction - Drew Karpyshyn [19]
The ensign thrust a finger at Des. “You cheated! Nobody gets sabacc on a sudden demise! Not unless he cheats!”
Des didn’t say anything; he didn’t even stand up. But his muscles were braced in case the soldier made a move.
The ensign turned back to the droid as it rose shakily to its feet. “You’re in on it!” He threw another mug at it, connecting again and dropping the droid a second time. Two of the other soldiers tried to restrain him, but he shook free of their grip. He spun around, waving his arms at the crowd. “You’re all in on it! Dirty, Sith-loving scum! You hate the Republic! You hate us. We know you do. We know!”
The miners pushed in closer, grumbling angrily. The ensign’s insults weren’t far off the mark; there were a lot of bad feelings toward the Republic on Apatros. And if he didn’t watch his mouth, somebody was going to show him just how strong those feelings were.
“We give our lives to protect you, but you don’t give a wobber! Any chance to humiliate us, you take it!”
His friends had grabbed him again, trying to wrestle him out the door. But there was no way they could get through the crowd now. From the looks on their faces, the soldiers were terrified. With good reason, Des thought. None of them was armed; their blasters were back on their ship. Now they were trapped in the center of a hostile crush of heavily muscled miners who’d been drinking all night. And their friend wouldn’t shut up.
“You should get down on your knees and thank us each and every time we land on this ball of bantha sweat you call a planet! But you’re too stupid to know how lucky you are to have us on your side! You’re nothing but a bunch of filthy, illiterate—”
A lum bottle hurled anonymously from the crowd struck him hard in the side of his head, cutting his words short. He dropped to the floor, dragging his friends down with him. Des stood motionless as a mass of angry miners surged.
The sound of a blaster caused everyone to freeze. Groshik had climbed up onto the top of the bar, his stunner already charging up to fire again. But everybody knew the next shot wouldn’t be aimed at the ceiling.
“We’re closed,” he croaked as loud as his raspy voice could manage. “Everybody get out of my cantina!”
The miners began to back off, and the soldiers stood up warily. The ensign swayed, the cut on his forehead bleeding into his eye.
“You three first,” the Neimoidian said to the ensign and the soldiers who supported him. He waved the barrel of his weapon menacingly around the room. “Clear a path. Get them out of here.”
Everyone but the soldiers remained frozen. This wasn’t the first time Groshik had whipped out the stunner. The BlasTech CS-33 Firespray stun rifle was one of the finest nonlethal crowd-control devices on the market, capable of incapacitating multiple targets with a single shot. More than a few of the miners had felt the brutal force of its wide-beam blast rendering them unconscious. From personal experience Des could attest to the fact that it wasn’t a pain anyone was likely to forget.
Once the Republic crew vanished into the night, the rest of the crowd began to move slowly toward the door. Des fell into step with the masses, but as he passed the bar Groshik pointed the blaster right at him.
“Not you. You stay put.”
Des didn’t move a millimeter until all the others were gone. He wasn’t scared; he didn’t think Groshik would really fire. Still, he saw no advantage in giving him a reason to.
Only after the last patron had left and closed the door did Groshik lower his arm. He clambered down awkwardly from the bar and set the rifle on the table, then turned to Des.
“I figured it was safer to keep you here with me for a bit,” he explained. “Those soldiers were pretty mad. They might be waiting for you on the walk home.”
Des smiled. “I didn’t figure you were mad at me,” he said.
Groshik snorted. “Oh, I’m mad at you. That’s why you’re going to