Star Wars_ MedStar 01_ Battle Surgeons - Michael Reaves [91]
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Jos had enough on his mind that he was paying scant attention to the chip-cards. The coins, flasks, sabers, and staves upon them held no real meaning for him. Around the table, the other players looked at their hands, brooded, or made classic comments:
"Son-of-a-bantha, who dealt this mess?" This from Zan.
"That would be me," Den said. He glanced at Jos. "I tried to cheat in your favor, Doc-didn’t you get a pure?"
"Very funny," Jos replied. "If this bomb was any big-ger, they’d be calling this the Drongar asteroid field."
"Spoken like a being trying to up the bets," I-Five said.
"You going to bet, fold, or just whine?" Tolk asked Jos.
Her tone of voice was like a sonic disruptor fired straight into his chest. To his surprise, he’d found that nearly getting killed while out trying to clear his head yesterday had not bothered him nearly as much as Tolk’s new coolness toward him.
But that’s what you told her you wanted, wasn’t it?
He looked at his hand. What with holding the Queen of Air and Darkness, the Evil One, and the Demise, he was so far below negative twenty-three that there was no way he could win, given the mathematical laws of this particular galaxy. When his turn came, he folded.
Bets went into the hand pot. After the next card, Zan folded also.
Den dealt the remaining players-Tolk, I-Five, Bar-riss, and himself-another card. The Jedi dropped out.
Zan leaned back and said, "So, Den, weren’t you go-ing to write a story about Phow Ji?"
The reporter paused a beat in his deal, then resumed. "Yeah."
"So when are we going to see it?"
"With any luck, never."
Jos thought this was odd, since Den seemed to have pretty high opinion of his abilities as a writer. He’d told his sabacc cronies a few days previously that he planned on eviscerating the Bunduki in pixels. Naturally, Den had cautioned them, this data wasn’t to be considered broadband, as the Sullustan had no great desire to be rendered into shaak fodder by Ji. "What happened?" Jos asked.
Den didn’t answer. Tolk called, the hands were turned over, and she won with an even twenty-three. Of course.
"Lucky at cards, unlucky in love," Den said.
Tolk glanced at Jos, then smiled at Den. "So why won’t we be seeing the story, Den?"
"Oh, you’ll see it, if you bother to look. They... butchered it. I laid it out as how our friend Ji was the scum of the galaxy and that feeding him feetfirst to a hungry rancor was too good for him."
"And...?" Barriss said.
"And they... twirled it, so that now he doesn’t sound... so bad." Den shuffled the cards.
"Not bad at all, I’m afraid. Seems the audience is tired of grim news at the moment.
According to my editor, they’ve been getting a lot of that lately-battles lost here, systems cut off there, and so on. Dooku’s forces might be get-ting their metal behinds kicked in the long run-if you believe the Republic flacks, anyway-but it doesn’t sound like that to the viewing public. They want he-roes."
"Phow Ji is not in any way, shape, or form a hero," Zan said. "He’s a murderous thug who kills people for fun."
"A fact I went to great pains to point out, believe me. But that doesn’t matter. Ji can be trimmed and lubed enough to fit the slot. So it has been decreed by voices louder than mine, and so, apparently, shall it be."
There was a moment of shocked silence as the other players digested this.
"That’s not a twirl, that’s a Class-One troopship’s gravity-gyro on full spin," Jos said.
"We gonna talk, or are we gonna play cards?" Den said, passing the deck to him. "Your deal, Doc."
"The way my luck is running, talk is a whole lot cheaper," Jos said. "I’m already down fifty creds."
Zan looked like he’d just been hit with severe vestibu-lar disorder. "But-they can’t make a coldhearted no-creche like Ji into somebody for people to admire!" he sputtered. "The man keeps trophies of all the people he’s murdered!"
"Enemies of the Republic,