Star Wars_ Death Star - Michael Reaves [39]
“What’s up?” He couldn’t read anything from the man’s face, which wasn’t unusual; Hoberd, it was said, could out-stare a Weequay. Normally this didn’t bother Tenn, but today, for some reason, he began to feel a little uneasy. The energy in the room was subtly different. He didn’t go in for woo-woo concepts like that, but sometimes he couldn’t deny it.
“Sit down, Tenn.” Hoberd’s expression didn’t change. Tenn looked at the chairs, both of which were filled with various objects, and perched on the edge of the less cluttered one. “I’ve got some bad news, I’m afraid.”
Uh-oh, Tenn thought. Had to have been that last inspection; he couldn’t think of any other possibility. What had gone wrong? An improper calibration? Not up to spit-’n’-polish standards? What was it?
The CO let him sweat for a moment, then grinned. “Bad news for me, anyway—I’m losing my best noncom.”
“Sir?”
“Pack your bags, Chief. You’re for the Death Star. They’re giving you the big gun.”
At first the words didn’t make sense to Tenn. Then the meaning broke through, like a sun through clouds, and he grinned.
“No poodoo, Cap?”
Hoberd held up a small datachip. “Orders just came down.” He tossed the chip, and Tenn caught it in midair. He was aware that he was grinning like a kid. “Thanks, Cap!”
Hoberd frowned slightly. “You sure you want to do this?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
The CO shook his head regretfully. “How am I going to replace you?”
Tenn blinked. “What, you aren’t coming?”
“Not me. My tour is over soon, and I’m mustering out. One of my in-laws runs a good-sized industrial operation—I have a job waiting.”
“Oh, that sounds exciting. Making widgets? Moving sewage? C’mon, Cap. You and me, pulling trigger on the biggest—”
“Job pays three times as well and the only thing dangerous about it might be having the wife find out where I’m hiding the girlfriend.”
They both laughed. Then Hoberd continued, “No guns’re operational yet. There are only a few sectors even pressurized, but you’re the best shooter in the fleet and they’re lucky to have you. They want you over there as soon as possible to begin orientation.”
Tenn felt like his head would split in half if his grin got any bigger. The CO was right: who better to pull the firing lever on the superlaser? This was the biggest, most powerful weapon ever built. Ever. This was as good as it got. He could bask in the warm glow of that for quite a while.
“Well, what’re you waiting for? Go on! Next time I see you your ugly mug had better be hidden behind one of those snazzy black visors they wear over there.”
CPO Tenn Graneet walked out of Captain Hoberd’s office feeling as though something had gone wrong with the corridor’s gravity, because he was definitely walking on air. Just wait until Droot and Velvalee heard the news. The best shot in the galaxy paired with the biggest gun … Tenn slapped his hands together, rubbing them with enthusiasm. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on those controls.
16
THE SOFT HEART CANTINA, SOUTHERN UNDERGROUND, GRID 19, IMPERIAL CITY
Memah stood on the walk in front of what had been her cantina, stunned beyond words. The Soft Heart was no more than ashes and cinders, still warm, soot and smoke twirling up toward the exhaust fans in a dirty breeze.
And it wasn’t just her place. The whole block had burned. The fire-suppression sprayers had unaccountably malfunctioned, according to the unofficial reports, at least, and the droid fire crews had been sent to the wrong location, so that by the time they arrived and began their efforts to control the blaze, it had been too late by far. They were lucky to have kept it from spreading to the whole sector, they said.
Memah still couldn’t get her mind around it. This wasn’t just a building reduced to ashes. This was her life.
Rodo came to stand next to her, his face grim. “Varlo Brim was discovered dead in his cube this morning.”
She frowned. “Who?”
“An arsonist, a professional. I