MIDLEVEL CANTINA, DECK 69, SECTOR N-ONE,

DEATH STAR

The size of the station was mind-boggling. Memah still

couldn't get her head around it. Her tiny part of it, which
was to become a working cantina, was half again as large
as the place that had burned to the pavement back in the
Underground, and she had been given more or less a free
hand to furnish and run it. At least, so far. She'd been
assured that, as long as she didn't go crazy and try to
outfit the place with platinum draw taps or the like, the
Empire would cover the cost.

If she kept getting news like that, she might just have to
revise her opinion of the new regime.

Rodo drifted past the desk where she sat working up an

order form for refreshments and intoxicants. If there was
a fermented, brewed, or distilled spirit that wasn't in
stock, she had yet to learn of it. There were beers, ales,
wines, liquors, malts, brandies . . . both generic and
brand-named. The legally allowed chemicals that could
be eaten, inhaled, dermed, or otherwise taken were
likewise available across the board. All she had to do was
tick it off on the complex Imperial order form and then
wait for delivery. It was apparent that whoever had set
this station up had planned ahead for such things.

She looked up from her chore at Rodo. "What?"

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