innocent bystander.'
Groshik wasn't in any mood to hear it. 'Just start picking up the chairs,' he muttered.
With the help of the CardShark, at least it was good for something besides dealing, Des thought, they finished cleaning up in just over an hour. When they were done the droid waddled out on shaky legs, heading toward the maintenance facilities for repairs. Before it left, Des made sure his sabacc winnings had been credited to his account.
Now that it was just the two of them, Groshik motioned Des over to the bar, grabbed a couple of glasses, and took a bottle down from the shelf.
'Cortyg brandy,' he said, pouring them each half a glass. 'Direct from Kashyyyk. Not the hard stuff the Wookiees drink, though. Milder. Smoother. More tame.'
Des took a sip and nearly choked as the fiery liquid burned its way down his throat. 'This is tame? I'd hate to see what the Wookiees drink!'
Groshik shrugged. 'What do you expect? They're Wookiees.'
With his second sip, Des was more careful. He let it roll across his tongue, savoring the rich flavor. 'This is good, Groshik. And expensive, I bet. What's the occasion?'
'You had quite a day. I thought you could use it.'
Des drained his glass. Groshik filled him up halfway, then corked the bottle and set it back on the shelf.
'I'm worried about you,' the Neimoidian rasped. 'Worried about what happened in the fight with Gerd.'
'He didn't give me much choice.'
The Neimodian nodded. 'I know, I know. Still. you bit off his thumb. And tonight you nearly started a riot in my bar.'
'Hey, I just wanted to play cards,' Des protested. 'It's not my fault things got out of hand.'
'Maybe, maybe not. I saw you tonight. You were goading that soldier, playing him like you play everyone who sits down against you. You push them, twist them, make them dance like puppets on a string. But this time you never let up. Even when you had the advantage, you kept pushing. You wanted him to go off like that.'
'Are you saying I planned this whole thing?' Des laughed. 'Come on, Groshik. It was the cards that set him off. You know I wasn't cheating, it's just not possible. How could I control what cards were dealt?'
'It was more than the cards, Des,' Groshik said, his gravelly voice dropping so low that Des had to lean in close to hear. 'You were angry, Des. More angry than I've ever seen you before. I could feel it from all the way across the room, like something in the air. We could all feel it.
'The crowd turned ugly in a hurry, Des. It was like they were feeding off your rage and your hate. You were projecting waves of emotion, a storm of anger and fury. Everyone else just kind of got swept up in it: the crowd, that soldier. everybody. Even me. It was all I could do to aim that first shot from my blaster at the ceiling. Every instinct in my body was telling me to fire it into the crowd. I wanted to take them all down and leave them writhing in pain.'
Des couldn't believe his ears. 'Listen to what you're saying, Groshik. It's crazy. You know I wouldn't do that. I couldn't do that. Nobody could.'
Groshik reached up a long, thin hand and patted Des on the shoulder. 'I know you'd never do it on purpose, Des. And I know how crazy it sounds. But there was something different about you tonight. You gave in to your emotions, and it unleashed something. strange. Something dangerous.'
Groshik tossed his head back and drained the last of his cortyg, shuddering as it went down. 'Just watch yourself, Des. Please. I've got a bad feeling.'
'Be careful, Groshik,' Des replied with another laugh. 'Neimoidians aren't known for relying on their feelings. It's not good for business.' Groshik studied him carefully for a moment, then nodded wearily. 'True. Maybe I'm just tired. I should get some sleep. And so should you.'
They shook hands, and Des left the cantina.
Chapter 5
The streets of Apatros were dark. ORO charged such high rates for power that everyone turned off all their lights when they went to bed, and tonight the moon was only the barest sliver in the sky. There wasn't even the cantina's glow to guide him: Groshik had shut off the lights on its walls and dome until he opened the next day. Des stayed in the middle of the street, trying to avoid barking his shins on the debris hidden in the darker shadows along the edges.
Yet somehow, despite the near-absolute darkness, he saw them coming.
It was a split second before it happened, a sense that danger was coming… and where it was coming from. Three silhouettes leapt at him, two coming head-on and another attacking from behind. He ducked forward just in time, feeling the metal pipe that would have cracked his skull and knocked him cold swiping through the air a hairbreadth above him. He popped back up as it passed and lashed out with a fist, driving into the featureless head of the nearest figure. He was rewarded with the sick crunch of cartilage and bone.
He ducked again, this time to the side, and the pipe that would have brained him square between the eyes thumped down hard across his left shoulder. He staggered to the side, driven by the force of the blow. But in the darkness it took a moment for his opponents to locate him, and by then he had regained his balance.
Through the gloom he could just make out the vague outlines of his attackers. The one he'd punched was slowly standing up; the other two stood wary and ready. He didn't have to see their faces to know who they were: the ensign and the two soldiers who'd half carried the man from the cantina. Des could smell the reek of Corellian ale wafting up at him, confirming their identities. They must have waited outside the cantina and followed him until they thought they could get the jump on him. That was good: it meant they hadn't gone back to their ship to get their blasters.
