Star Wars_ Tales From the Mos Eisley Cantina - Kevin J. Anderson [48]
Relaxing, Kabe studied the customers closest to her, scanning expertly for pockets to pick. With a little juri juice in her, she was twice as fast and twice as clever. No one was safe.
The identity of the two customers on either side of her gave her pause; Dr. Evazan and Ponda Baba weren’t good prospects. It was one of Kabe’s secret prides that she’d once managed to pick both their pockets, dropping a few trinkets from the good doctor’s purse into Baba’s pocket at the same time—but they’d been very juiced then … which they weren’t at the moment. High, perhaps, but not enough to tempt her. The risk wasn’t worth it.
The two prospects beyond Evazan were definitely more promising. The grungy moisture boy who’d been dumb enough to bring the droids in was standing on her immediate right. The man he’d entered with was an old fellow with a beard the color of Muftak’s fur, wealing a coarse brown cloak with a hood—no doubt made by a Jawa tailor, Kabe thought, amused. She recognized neither of them, which meant they weren’t from Mos Eisley. Good! Wide-eyed desert dwellers usually presented easy pickings. Beyond them was the contraband runner Chewbacca, but she dismissed him without a second thought: Not only did he not possess pockets to pick, but everyone knew it wasn’t wise to upset a Wookiee.
Muftak was still in deep conversation with Momaw Nadon. Damn him, too. Suppose he finds his home world, what then? He’ll probably want to go there … and then, by the Force, where’ll that leave me? Kabe had a brief vision of herself, stuck in Mos Eisley, with no one to make Wuher serve her juri juice … no one to protect her from outraged victims when her fingers weren’t quick enough …
She’d be all alone. Kabe took a deep draft of juice, thinking of her small, secret hoard—so secret that even Muftak didn’t know about it. It wouldn’t last long … a tenday, maybe. And then what? No doubt about it, trouble was coming, unless she found a way to distract the Talz.
A tall, thin humanoid down the bar was puffing away on a hookah. Expertly, she located his credit pouch. Easily accessible … but something, she wasn’t sure what, held her back. Ears twitching, she strained to pick up his vibrations. For some reason she couldn’t define, he sounded wrong. When his gaze brushed hers. the fur on the back of her neck crawled suddenly, as if someone had draped something limp and dead across her shoulders.
Not him, Kabe thought, shuddering. Definitely not him.
The boy, she decided. He was obviously nervous, but not really alert. And then the old man. There was something about the old man that betokened a quiet competence, despite his shabby clothes. She’d have to be extra careful with that one.
Suddenly Kabe sensed movement on her left from Ponda Baba. She ducked back, barely in time to avoid a vicious elbow as he deliberately shoved the boy. “Out of my way, human excrement!” he bellowed in Aqualish. Oh no, she thought, here we go again. Whiskers twitching, Kabe scurried behind the old desert dweller, then peeked cautiously out, carefully putting her half-empty glass on the bar.
The boy obviously didn’t understand the big alien’s language. He glanced up, startied, then silently moved away and went back to his drink. Kabe poised herself for action; when Evazan and Ponda Baba’s newest victim lay charred and smoking, she’d have only a moment to snag his purse before he was dragged away.
Maybe, she thought, now would be a good time to do the old one. His attention was fixed on Ponda Baba. Perfect. Now, if she could only find his purse … “I have the death sentence on twelve systems!” Evazan’s loud voice hurt her ears. Hmm. That was a promising little bulge. Just a little closer …
The old man stepped forward—and his pocket slid away from her fingers. Cautiously, Kabe followed. There was a sudden exodus away from the bar, and Kabe realized the fight was about to start—but she was determined to snatch the credits before she too retreated.
“This little one isn