Star Wars_ Darth Bane 01_ Path of Destruction - Drew Karpyshyn [22]
And had it been, really? He had seen the blade coming. Could he have disarmed his opponent without killing him? Des shook his head. He didn’t have time for guilt or regrets. Not now. He had to find somewhere safe to hide out.
He couldn’t go back to his barracks: that was the first place they’d look. He’d never reach the mines on foot before daybreak, and there was nowhere on the open wastes he could hide once the sun came up. There was only one option, one hope. Eventually they’d go looking for him there, too. But he had nowhere else to go.
Groshik must have still been awake, because he answered the door only seconds after Des began pounding on it. The Neimoidian took one look at the blood on the young man’s hands and shirt and grabbed him by the sleeve.
“Get in here!” he croaked, yanking Des through the door and slamming it shut behind him. “Are you hurt?”
Des shook his head. “I don’t think so. The blood isn’t mine.”
Taking a step back, the Neimoidian looked him up and down. “There’s a lot of it. Too much. Smells human.”
When Des didn’t reply, Groshik ventured a guess. “Gerd’s?”
Another shake of the head. “The ensign,” Des said.
Groshik dropped his head and swore under his breath. “Who knows? Are the authorities after you?”
“Not yet. Soon.” Then, as if trying to justify his actions, he added, “There were three of them, Groshik. Only one’s dead.”
His old friend nodded sympathetically. “I’m sure he had it coming. Just like Gerd. But that doesn’t change the facts. A Republic soldier is dead … and you’re the one who’s going to take the blame.”
The cantina owner led Des over to the bar and brought down the bottle of cortyg brandy. Without saying a word, he poured them each a drink. This time he didn’t stop at half glasses.
“I’m sorry I came here,” Des said, desperate to break the uncomfortable silence. “I didn’t mean to get you mixed up in this.”
“Getting mixed up in things doesn’t bother me,” Groshik reassured him with a comforting pat on his arm. “I’m just trying to figure a way to get us out of this now. Let me think.”
They downed their glasses. It was all Des could do to keep from panicking; with each passing second he expected a dozen men in ORO body armor to crash down the cantina’s door. After what seemed like hours, but was probably only a minute or two, Groshik began to talk. He spoke softly, and Des wasn’t sure if the Neimoidian was addressing him or merely talking out loud to help himself think.
“You can’t stay here. ORO can’t afford to lose their Republic contracts. They’ll turn the whole colony upside down to find you. We have to get you offworld.” He paused. “But by morning, your picture will be on every vidscreen in Republic space. Changing your looks won’t help much. Even with a wig or facial prosthetics you tend to stand out in a crowd. So that means we have to get you out of Republic space. And that means …” Groshik trailed off.
Des waited expectantly.
“Those things you said tonight,” Groshik ventured, “about the Sith and the Republic. Did you mean it? Did you really mean it?”
“I don’t know. I guess so.”
There was another long pause, as if the bartender was gathering himself. “How would you feel about joining the Sith?” he suddenly blurted out.
Des was caught completely off guard. “What?”
“I know … people. I can get you offworld. Tonight. But these people aren’t looking for passengers: the Sith need soldiers. They’re always recruiting, just like those Republic officers tonight.”
Des shook his head. “I don’t believe this. You work for the Sith? You always said never to take sides!”
“I don’t work for the Sith,” Groshik snapped. “I just