Doctor Aphra (Star Wars) by Sarah Kuhn

Author:Sarah Kuhn [Kuhn, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780593357033
Google: iMr3DwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2021-04-05T23:00:00+00:00

SCENE 24. INT. GAMBLING PARLOR. THE SPIRE. ANTHAN PRIME. DAY.

APHRA (narration):

Naturally, Vader gave me basically no information regarding the decryption of this mysterious datachip. I knew that it contained information on someone called Commodex Tahn, and that Vader thought Tahn might possess some vital knowledge.

And…yeah, there was that one other thing I haven’t told you yet. Having to do with what that “vital knowledge” might entail. Be patient.

Anyway, this was just another opportunity to prove my brilliance.

With Triple-Zero and Beetee in tow, I jetted over to Anthan Prime, where we stopped off at the Anthan Spire—a glittering floating city of excess that houses a holiday resort for the hyper-rich. At least up top. The fancy folks in charge took one look at the Ark Angel and suggested we park somewhere more our speed—the tradesperson’s entrance.

We docked in the lower area, where, it must be said, there was still plenty of flash—mostly in the form of high-stakes gambling.

Atmosphere: The whir, hum, and melodic “dings” of a bustling gambling parlor. Controlled chaos. This is a place of excess, of the wealthy indulging in their every whim. It has an opulent sheen the grimy Son-tuul bar did not—but of course there’s a seediness lurking just beneath the surface.

TRIPLE-ZERO:

Oh, holo-chess! Beautiful holo-chess! It’s been a while!

BEETEE:

BLEEP!

TRIPLE-ZERO:

Yes, I have been locked in storage for years. That is “a while.”

APHRA:

Are you any good?

TRIPLE-ZERO:

My specialties are etiquette, customs, translation, and torture. A lot of nonessential protocol droid programming was jettisoned to fit that last one in. So, no. I’m terrible, Mistress Aphra. But I do love it so.

BEETEE:

BLEEP BLEEP!

TRIPLE-ZERO:

Yes, Beetee, I suppose I am a terribly sore loser.

APHRA:

Well, maybe after this, we’ll all get that holiday we deserve. Think of it, Trip: You could get plated in precious metal at the fancy droid spa while gambling the rest of your payday away…

TRIPLE-ZERO:

Oooh, sounds like the perfect opportunity for a little light torture as well!

BEETEE:

BLEE­EEEP!

TRIPLE-ZERO:

True, Beetee: If we’re on holiday, I should indulge myself. Extensive torture, it is!

Now, Mistress Aphra, are you serious about that payday, because as we’d discussed previously—

APHRA:

Shhh, Trip, I need to concentrate—gotta get in the right mindset to see an old friend…

TRIPLE-ZERO:

Which “old friend” is this, Mistress Aphra, and are you certain you can classify them as such? You seem to use the term friend rather…loosely.

BEETEE:

BLEE­EEEEP!

TRIPLE-ZERO:

Yes, Beetee, but I was trying to put it a bit more diplomatically…

APHRA:

It’s a guy named The Ante—if anyone can unlock Vader’s datachip, it’s him…

And yeah, we’re friends.

Basically.

APHRA (narration):

I let Triple-Zero and Beetee hang back while I approached The Ante—he was settled into a spacious nook just off of the gambling parlor, watching various statistics and gaming status reports fly by on a wide expanse of glowing monitors. And he was sitting in one of those giant chairs that spins around—for extra dramatic effect, I guess. There’s really no other reason to have a chair that purely ostentatious.

The Ante swiveled around in that giant chair and regarded me through the inky black pits he calls eyes.

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