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.
Star Wars - Tales From The Mos Eisley Cantina Page 31
