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fans and baffles in here while I'm gone, too, okay?"

Rodo nodded, but somewhat absently; his mind was obviously otherwise occupied. Memah thought about asking him what he was chewing over but decided not to- when he was ready, he'd mention it. In the meantime, she had a choice to make: Corellian ale or Zabrak ferment?



Ratua didn't have any connection to religion-he didn't subscribe to any of the doctrines or dogmas, more than a few of which he had been exposed to in his life. However, if there was one that promised a thieves'

paradise, it might not be too different from this battle station.

He'd been afraid at first that he'd have to skulk about the outlying corridors and hallways, staying in the shadows, taking service tubes and stairs to avoid being stopped by station security. But he had walked past guards scores of times, hesitantly at first, then with less worry, and finally with nothing but confidence. As far as he could tell, nobody had even lifted an eyebrow in his direction. Nobody stopped him and asked him what business he was on; nobody asked for identification, as long as he stayed away from corridors and chambers plainly marked off-limits to unauthorized personnel; in short,