Tenn slowed his pace slightly, feeling as if he had just

brushed up against a primal force of nature; the edge of a

hurricane, perhaps, or an icy comet that simply could not
be stopped. Had he challenged Vader by staying in his
path, he had no doubt that he would have regretted it for
as long as he lived. Which quite probably wouldn't have
been all that long.

The chief resisted an urge to glance back. If Vader had

even noticed his passing, there had been no sign.
"Whoo," he said softly to himself as the sound of the
other's boots diminished. That had been an experience
he'd remember for a while. He'd almost been the man
who'd tugged on Darth Vader's cape.

20

FLUTTERBIRD DINER, SOUTHERN

UNDERGROUND, GRID 17, IMPERIAL CITY

Neet Alamant was a polished fellow, his voice as smooth

as drive lube; never an awkward pause or loss for words.
Seated in the retro-style dining booth across from him,
Memah felt very little in the way of trust or warmth for
the human. Rodo was at the counter, overwhelming a
stool and not trying very hard to look inconspicuous as he
nursed a cup of caf.

Memah wasn't afraid of this officious little man, but it did

feel comforting to have Rodo nearby, and to have that be

131