Star Wars_ Death Star - Michael Reaves [125]
“Dr. Divini, nice to see you again.” She looked at the fellow to Uli’s right. “Everything okay here?”
The green-eyed man said, “Oh, yeah. Just renewing an old acquaintance. Been awhile.”
Stihl looked at the tender. “Memah. You know this guy?”
She nodded. “I do.”
Stihl looked at the Zelosian again. Uli felt a current of something uneasy passing back and forth, and he leaned back a bit to get out of the flow.
Stihl said, “How did—”
“I decided to leave,” Celot Ratua Dil said.
Stihl didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he looked at the Twi’lek woman behind the bar. “You wouldn’t have your hand on a stunner under there, would you, Memah?”
“I might.”
Stihl nodded, as if to himself. He looked at the Zelosian, then back at the Twi’lek. His eyebrows arched. “So that’s how it is?”
“That’s how it is. And I do know who he is and where he came from.”
There was a pregnant silence.
Uli said, “Pardon me for butting into what’s probably not my business, but since I’m sitting in the middle of this conversation and we’re all of a sudden talking about stunners, somebody want to tell me what’s going on?”
The other three looked at one another.
The Zelosian said, “Sorry, Doctor, ah … Divini, is it? It’s fairly straightforward. Before he was transferred here, Sergeant Stihl was a guard on Despayre—you know, that planet this station just blew to space dust? And I was, for a time, a resident there.”
“He’s an escaped prisoner,” Stihl said. His voice was still quiet and calm, but it carried clearly to them. He looked at his hands, which were, Uli noticed, quite callused. He looked back at the Zelosian. “You were sentenced there for life.”
“You mean ‘death,’ don’t you, Sarge? Because when the powers-that-be on this station let go with that death ray, anybody who was on Despayre got cooked to ashes, and those ashes got blown all over the galaxy, if I recall recent history.”
Stihl nodded. “Yeah.”
“So now what?” the Twi’lek asked.
“Yeah,” Celot Ratua Dil added. “You can’t exactly send me back, can you, Sarge?”
Uli watched Stihl’s face. He would probably be a good card player, because he wasn’t giving anything away. “No,” he finally said. “I guess I can’t.” He looked at Memah. “You really think he’s worth pulling that stunner for?”
“I really do.”
Another five seconds passed. Then: “How about a mug of Alarevi ale?” Stihl said. “And give the doc and Radish Boy here another of whatever they’re drinking, on me.”
Memah nodded and removed her hand from under the bar. She and her boyfriend seemed a bit relieved. Not that much, but then Uli would wager his eventual possible IMSLO discharge that nobody was spiking any sine waves tonight. Shock tended to have that effect on people.
He was aware that a potentially nasty situation had just been avoided, and it might be wise to let it lie, but he was curious. He said, “As I recall, Sergeant, aren’t you some kind of martial artist?”
“I am.”
“If the lady had pulled a stunner, couldn’t you have defended yourself against it?”
“Probably. But she wasn’t the problem.”
“Oh?”
“Want to show him?” he said, looking over Uli’s shoulder at the Zelosian.
“Sure. Where’s your glass, Doc?”
Uli turned away from the sergeant and looked at the bar. His half-drunk glass of beer was …
Where was it?
He looked up at the Zelosian. There was a blur of motion—
His glass was back in front of him. The beer sloshed a bit but otherwise gave no indication that it hadn’t been in front of him the whole time.
Stihl laughed softly. “Ratua’s fast.”
“I get that,” Uli said. “So—if Memah had pulled her stunner, while you were dealing with her, Ratua could’ve clonked you one. If you’d gone after him first, she’d have stunned you.”
“Not a high-percentage situation for me,” Stihl said.
Uli blinked at him. “So just like that, you’re okay with this? You’re going to let it go?”
Stihl nodded as Memah drew a mug full of dark ale for him. “Why not? Not like he’s going anywhere, and he’s right—I can’t send him back to a place that doesn’t exist anymore.” He took the ale, smiled, and sipped at it.