Star Wars - Tales From The Mos Eisley Cantina

by Kevin J. Anderson

  material we confiscated from the Sand People. We want people to

  think the Sand People attacked the sandcrawler. The rest of you,

  load up the cargo skiffs - we will find those droids at that

  moisture farmer's."

  The floating fortress immediately wheeled off the ground,

  rising above the ridge in a banking turn. Climbing on board the

  bulky cargo skiff, Davin saw two bolts of blaster energy burst out

  of the floating fortress.

  Over the whoops of joy from the other storm-troopers, Davin

  remained quiet. His thoughts were on the little Jawas, and how

  they were no more.

  Davin lingered behind the rest, staying just far enough behind

  the other stormtroopers so that he didn't draw attention to

  himself. Zeta squad raced through the lower levels of the moisture

  farmer's house, overturning tables, ripping doors off cabinets,

  smashing metal lockers with their blaster rifles until the

  containers popped open. One by one the stormtroopers checked in

  with Captain Terrik "No sign of the droids, "k;**

  Davin watched the storm trooper in front, of him kick over a

  vat of oil before heading to the upper level. The moisture

  farmer's house was a shambles.

  "Zeta squad check in and form up," said Captain Terrik, his

  words clipped and precise in Davin's helmet.

  "Ten twenty-three," said Davin. He tried to control his

  breathing, but the thought of what was going to happen next nearly

  overwhelmed his senses. He trotted into the bright Tatooine double-

  sunshine and stood at attention with the rest of his squad.

  Captain Terrik stood in front of the moisture farmer and his wife,

  just outside of the house. The moisture farmer's face was bright

  red with anger; the woman cried, her head down. Davin flicked his

  outside audio sensor on with his chin and listened to the

  exchange.

  "... you men are nothing but criminals! I told you I haven't

  seen those droids since last night. And look what you've done to

  my house! The governor will pay for this."

  "This nephew of yours," said Captain Terrik, his voice

  modulated by the speaker in his battlesuit, "one more time Where

  did he take the Artoo unit?"

  "Haven't you been listening?" The moisture farmer shook a fist

  in the air. "I don't know - and now I would not tell you even if I

  did know! You Imperial thugs are worse than I imagined." He

  stepped up to Captain Terrik's helmeted face and spat; spittle ran

  down the officer's helmet.

  Captain Terrik made no attempt to remove the spittle. "Where is

  the boy?"

  "I never did care much for the Rebel movement; but now I hope

  they find every one of you bantha slime and grill your carcasses!"

  The moisture farmer turned and put an arm around his wife,

  drawing her near. The two turned away, back toward their home.

  Without emotion, Captain Terrik nodded toward the

  stormtroopers. His voice came over the secure link. "There's only

  one place the boy could have taken the droids - into Mos Eisley,

  to escape offplanet. Zeta squad, load up. Floating fortress, this

  house needs to be left as a reminder of what happens when quarter

  is given to Rebels. Fire when ready."

  Turning quickly for the cargo skiff, Davin Felth pushed aboard

  and kept his eyes averted from the blast on the house. A sour

  taste clawed up his throat. First they executed the Jawas, and now

  these humans. And over what-a couple of lousy droids? What could

  be so important that it deserved executing these people?

  On his home planet, joining the military had seemed all fun and

  games, his chest swelling with pride as he had boarded the ship to

  transport him to Carida. But now, this was reality. People were

  dying, being indiscriminately killed.

  The cargo skiff lifted off the ground, giving Davin a view of

  the carnage below. Smoke drifted up from the house. He could see

  the charred remains of two bodies lying in the scorched sand. As

  the skiff wheeled toward the desert city of Mos Eisley, Davin

  didn't know what he would do if he was ordered to kill.

  Landing on the outskirts of Mos Eisley, the storm-troopers

  marched off the cargo skiff. They spe'nt hours digging through the

  databases at the port authority, interrogating charter-ship

  owners, and searching repair shops before Captain Terrik gave up

  in disgust and ordered a methodical search of the streets.

  The smells of the rich food, dirty bodies, and fuel permeated

  even their battle suits as they gathered around Captain Terrik.

  "All right, listen up," he said. "Alvien squad, set up checkpoints

  on every road coming into the city. You'll supplement the

  detachment already there. Drax and Zeta squads, run a patrol

  through the city, check door-to-door for those droids. There's

  only one way for those droids and that kid to get offplanet, and

  it's got to be through this hellhole of a city. Move out."

  Davin joined the rest of the squad as they double-timed away

  from the detachment. Mos Eisley yawned open in front of them, a

  collection of dusty, low-slung brown buildings that looked as if

  they had been scattered by a juri-juice addict. Creatures in long

  flowing robes moved quietly through the dirt streets; Davin hadn't

  seen this many aliens in one place since the galactic Olympics on

  the holovid.

  Every door was sealed tight , supposedly closed against the

  sand, but Davin suspected it was to ensure the privacy of the

  unsavory characters he saw stepping back into the shadows.

  They marched into the heart of the city, passing Lup's general

  store, the marketplace, Gap's grill, and the spaceport express. A

  potpourri of jabbering sounds and sharp smells invaded Davin's

  senses, mixed together with the ever-present sand. After his

  initial exposure to Tatooine by being dumped in the middle of the

  desert with his detachment, Davin realized that he really hadn't

  had a chance to sit back and savor this strange new world to which

  he had been assigned. But then again, he bitterly realized it

  might be a long time before he ever got offplanet.

  His thoughts were shattered by a scream, then several shouts

  coming from an old blockhouse. Davin remembered the briefings on

  the landing craft-several buildings had been originally designed

  as a shelter against Tusken Raiders. This certainly looked like

  one of them.

  No one else in Zeta squad seemed to hear the commotion.

  Looking for a chance to get away from the craziness for a

  while, Davin clicked on his comlink. "Ten twenty-three, checking

  out a disturbance at a blockhouse."

  "Permission granted," said Captain Terrik. "Ten forty-seven,

  back him up."

  Davin gripped his rifle and peeled off from the squad.

  Creatures in every form of dress moved aside for Davin and his

  backup. A nondescript sign with faint lettering read Mos Eisley

  Cantina.

  A 2.8-meter-high green insectoid crawled from the cantina as

  they arrived. It sported bulbous eyes atop a slender stalk, with

  four
legs supporting a slender thorax and abdomen. It chattered at

  Davin.

  "I am taking my spice trade elsewhere if I cannot be assured of

  my own safety!"

  Davin turned to his backup, 1047. "Sounds like trouble."

  "These places don't serve droids," said 1047. "We're needed

  elsewhere."

  Wanting to keep away from the droid hunt, Davin ignored him and

  pushed on inside the dark cantina. Davin's solid-state visor

  immediately compensated for the low light level. He stood on an

  elevated entrance-way, just inside the door. It looked like a

  place where smugglers, bounty hunters, and other low-class types

  would hang out.

  Davin spotted two people in the back, a boy and an old man, get

  up from a booth and walk quickly toward a back hallway. He ignored

  them and stepped up to the bartender.

  Davin clicked on his outside speaker. "I understand there's

  been some trouble here."

  "Nothing out of the ordinary," said the bartender, nodding to

  the rear of his establishment. "Just having a little fun. You can

  look around if you like."

  "All right-we'll check it out."

  Davin kept a grip on his rifle and walked slowly through the

  cantina. He passed two slender human women and a sharp-smelling

  Rodian standing by the bar; a horned Devaronian nodded curdy and

  stepped, back, out of the way. Reaching the booth where Davin had

  spotted the boy and old man heading for the back hallway, he found

  an athletic-looking human who stared sullenly at the table,

  ignoring him.

  Davin turned to 1047, his backup. "You're right- there's

  nothing here."

  "Let's join the others."

  Davin merely grunted. He was in no hurry to witness another

  senseless killing. But what else could he do?

  They stepped into the brilliant Tatooine sunlight, leaving the

  shady cantina behind. Davin started to suggest they continue the

  search for the missing droids on their own instead of joining the

  rest of the detachment, when the rest of Zeta squad marched around

  the corner in lockstep, completing their circuit of the perimeter.

  Before Davin could say anything into his helmet microphone, he

  heard a shrill yell. It sounded like an outraged Jawa! How could

  he forget the high-pitched chatter from the little creatures that

  they had brutally executed?

  Davin instantly crouched into a combat position, pulling up his

  rifle. A long-robed Jawa leaped from a hiding place in the middle

  of some space wreckage crashed in the middle of the square. The

  Jawa struggled with an oversized blaster, the weapon dwarfing the

  ridiculous-looking creature.

  Finally aiming the blaster rifle at Zeta squad, the Jawa cut

  loose with one last shrill yell and squeezed the firing button-

  Nothing happened. The Jawa howled with anger and surprise. He

  kept pushing the button. Everything happened so fast that Davin

  didn't react.

  Or maybe his instincts kept him from reacting, with all of the

  senseless killings he had witnessed . . .

  "Crazy Jawa," muttered 1047. The stormtrooper pulled out his

  blaster and flipped off a shot at the Jawa, still struggling with

  the weapon. The shot's momentum sent the Jawa flying back against

  the wreckage. It slid to the dirt. "One less Jawa slime to bother

  us," said 1047 as he holstered his blaster.

  Davin stepped back in shock. What have we become? He had almost

  excused the Imperial stormtroopers for the way they

  indiscriminately killed the Jawas in their sandcrawler because of

  this so-called threat to the Emperor. But the moisture farmer, and

  now this latest act of violence . . . Davin couldn't reconcile it.

  The only answer to these actions kept coming up the same, time

  after time The Empire was basically evil. And he didn't fit in.

  But I can't resign, he thought. So what can I do?

  He seemed to walk forever in a daze with Zeta squad, when he

  heard a voice in his helmet speaker. "Trouble at Docking Bay

  Ninety-four-we've located the droids! All personnel, converge and

  assist!"

  "Come on, Ten twenty-three!" said 1047. "Follow me!"

  Davin clutched his blaster rifle and trotted after the white-

  armored man. His time on Tatooine had seemed like a dream-he

  didn't know how long he had been onplanet, but he had been

  surviving off his suit rations and supplements for longer than he

  imagined it would be possible.

  Captain Terrik's voice came inside his helmet. "Capture the

  droids! The Rebels have them-don't let them get away!"

  Sounds of laser blasts ricocheted down the narrow streets. A

  crowd had gathered outside the docking bay; several peered over

  the crowd and tried to get a glimpse of what was going on.

  1047 switched to his outside speaker "Move aside- now!"

  Davin blindly followed his backup, more confused than ever.

  Rebels? Why would the Rebel force be so blatant and try to escape

  now?

  Running down the alley, they rounded a corner and came upon the

  firefight. A modified light freighter cruiser sat in the middle of

  the docking bay, its back hatch open. Davin caught a glimpse of a

  boy running up the ramp into the ship. A volley of laser blasts

  peppered the area.

  A score of stormtroopers were scattered around, firing upon the

  light freighter. The air was filled with the searing sounds of

  laser blasts.

  Davin was stunned to see that an athletic-looking man held the

  stormtroopers at bay-he fought at twenty-to-one odds! Was this man

  one of the mysterious Rebels that dared to rise against the

  Emperor? It was the same man Davin had seen at the cantina! So

  this was the one who had kept two detachments of storm-troopers on

  the run!

  Mesmerized by the very thought that so few could accomplish so

  much, Davin felt a rush of solidarity-he felt an empathy with the

  Rebels, fighting against such overwhelming odds . . . and

  surviving. He hadn't felt this much emotion since the day he left

  for Carida . . .

  The noise and confusion were overwhelming. Smoke sprang from

  stray laser blasts that ignited building material. Stormtroopers

  shouted conflicting orders.

  Directly in front of Davin, Captain Terrik knelt on one knee

  and took careful aim at the athletic-looking man who was still

  holding off the Emperor's finest. Captain Terrik waited for the

  precise moment before slowly squeezing his blaster rifle to take

  out the Rebel-

  Davin glanced quickly around. No one was behind him . . . and

  more importantly, no one was watching him.

  Without hesitation, Davin pulled up his blaster and shot

  Captain Terrik in the back.

  The officer slumped to the ground, unnoticed by the others.

  The athletic-looking Rebel scrambled safely up the access ramp

  as it closed, sealing off the starship. An earsplitting wail came

  inside his helmet over the storm-trooper's frequency "Clear the

  area, the Rebel's lifting off! Clear the area!"

  Defeated, the stormtroopers scrambled back. Anyone left in t
he

  docking bay would be irradiated by the starship's exhaust.

  Someone's voice came over the secure frequency "Where's Captain

  Terrik?"

  "Leave him," came another voice. "He's dead. Killed in the

  crossfire."

  Cursing filled the stormtroopers' airways. Several threw their

  blasters against the wall in disgust.

  But as Davin pulled back with the rest, a new sense of purpose

  swept over him, like a cool wind cutting through the endless heat.

  He felt a kinship with the Rebels and almost wanted to join their

  cause.

  But how?

  Maybe he could warn them of the AT-AT's vulnerability. Or maybe

  he could work as a "deep plant," passing along vital information .

  . .

  A spy? Maybe that was it. He'd have something to live for,

  something to believe in. He felt heady, as things suddenly fell in

  place.

  As the stormtroopers formed up, Davin knew that he could help

  the Rebels best by staying in the belly of the beast.

  Soup's Oh The Pipe Smoker's Tale

  by Jennifer Roberson

  Pain/pleasure... pleasure/pain. Inseparable. Indescribable.

  Ineluctable.

  -come closer, a little closer-

  Tatooine. Mos Eisley. A cesspit planet, a cesspit spaceport,

  offering little to the undiscerning save perhaps the loss of coin,

  of limb, of life, but rich to others in risk, in Chance, in Luck,

  in the endless mirage of hope-illicit, illegal, wholly

  intoxicating.

  -closer, if you will-

  To me, as to blood-bred creche-mates, Tatooine and Mos Eisley

  are richer still in potential of the flesh, of the blood, of the

  viscera, of the overwhelming promise of risks already taken and

  risks to be taken; in the ineffable indefinable we of my race call

  soup.

  Pleasure/pain... pain/pleasure. Deep in flesh-molded pockets

  beside my nostrils, hidden by subde flaps in otherwise humanoid

  features, proboscii quiver.

  -closer yet-yet-

  This is what I live for, what I fish for, what I hunt. The

  scent of soup, then the soup itself, running hot and fast and

  sweet in the confines of the veins, the vessels, the brain. In the

  confines of the flesh.

  It lends us to legend. It makes of us myth. It shapes of us

  demons of dreams Don't misbehave or an Anzat will catch you and

  suck all your blood away. But it is not blood at all.