Star Wars_ Rebel Force 03_ Renegade - Alex Wheeler [39]
And there were plenty of cantinas. That was one of the things about Mos Eisley that would never change. Deak had suggested Chalmun's—but only as a joke. The spot was famous for its rowdy crowd, underground warrens of vice, and frequent blood sport. Luke decided not to mention that he'd once passed an afternoon inside, only to come very close to death by way of an angry Aqualish.
Instead, they settled on Pisquatch's Place, a snug cantina a few blocks down from Chalmun's on Outer Kerner Way. With only one room, five drink options, no live music, and a crowd filled with touchy young wannabes—aspiring pilots rubbing shoulders with aspiring criminals—the Place had only one thing in common with Chalmun's Cantina: no droids allowed.
So C-f0 3PO and R2-f0 D2 waited outside, while Luke fended off his friends'
demands for details about how he and Jaxson had managed to survive a night in the Jundland Wastes. There was no reason to keep it a secret, but Luke—who had already told so many tales of his fake life as a space smuggler—didn't relish making the experience into another adventure story. And, although they hadn't discussed it, Jaxson seemed just as reluctant. No one knew about how Luke's lightsaber had freed them from the bounty hunter, or that Jaxson's quick reflexes had saved Luke from toppling over a cliff. But the latter wasn't something Luke would soon forget. As his friends pestered Leia, clamoring for more details of her adventures in space, Luke pulled Jaxson aside. They retreated to a quiet corner of the cantina, pausing beneath a garish painting of Noosh Feteel, one of Mos Eisley's founding fathers.
"What is it?" Jaxson asked, looking like he could guess, but was hoping to be wrong.
"I just wanted to thank you again," Luke said. "For what you did out there."
Jaxson shrugged. "Yeah, well. Whatever."
"You saved my life!" Luke said.
"Yeah." Jaxson shifted his weight uncomfortably. "I remember."
"I guess I owe you one," Luke said. "And listen, what I said before, about your piloting?"
"You mean, like how I had the hand-eye coordination of a blind womp rat?"
Jaxson said sourly.
Luke flushed. He didn't remember using exactly those words. "Right. That. I didn't mean it. You're good—good enough that they should have let you into the Academy. But listen, it's really a good thing they didn't. Biggs—"
"You going to start up with that trash again, Skywalker?" Jaxson snarled.
"Going to tell me that I'm lucky I didn't ship out to the Academy, because then I might have ended up serving in the big, bad Imperial Navy?"
"I was just—"
"Look, maybe I was wrong about you, too, Wormie," Jaxson admitted.
"Maybe you're not just out for yourself. Maybe you don't think you're better than the rest of us. But last night doesn't change the fact that Fixer was right. Doesn't matter who's in charge of the galaxy, as long as the vaporators keep running."
Luke used to think the rest of the galaxy had nothing to do with Tatooine, too.
Until the day the Empire arrived and slaughtered his aunt and uncle. That was the day Luke had realized that the Empire's reach was everywhere. But he knew he wouldn't be able to convince Jaxson of that, or any of them. It was something they'd have to figure out for themselves. And part of Luke hoped they would never have to. Life on Tatooine was hard enough.
He held out a hand for Jaxson to shake. "Then just thank you. I owe you my life."
Jaxson cocked an eyebrow at Luke, looking for a moment remarkably like Han. "Don't worry about it, Wormie. You'll pay me back some—"
A crash of transparisteel cut off his words. Luke spotted the telltale gleam of a blaster barrel and, before he even processed what it meant, threw himself at Jaxson, knocking both of them to the ground. A searing blast of laserfire flew through the air where their heads had been, striking the ugly painting behind them. A jagged hole exploded in the