Company for Dinner
by Josh Nolan


"New guy, huh?"

I'd been searching for a place to sit, so the voice from just behind my hip 
startled me slightly.  I turned, trying not to upset the tray of whatever 
it was, to find a friendly, furry face smiling back at me.  His fur was 
golden, apart from a complicated pattern of purple markings that ran down 
beneath the fatigues that marked him a patient.  "Uh, yeah," I replied, not 
really being able to find much more to say.

"Well come and -" he broke off, making a weird kind of strangling noise.  
He blinked a couple of times, then continued, "Come and sit down here.  
It's always good to get to know -" He made the same noise again, but 
resumed, "To know the new guys.  The whole point of letting us eat together 
is the social interaction, after all."

I tried not to look very confused by his odd vocal mannerisms, and went to 
take a seat across the table from him. The mess hall didn't use chairs - 
they just had padded discs that floated near the tables which seemed to 
lock in place when someone's weight was on them.  I placed my tray in front 
of me, then eased my weight onto the seat.  "I'd be a bit more comfortable 
if I knew what I was eating, though," I said, noticing that my new friend 
didn't actually have anything in front of him apart from a datapad.  "Can 
you help me out?"

He smiled broader, then made that weird noise again.  "Sure," he said after 
a moment, "the meat's gornt.  You've eaten gornt before, right?  Appears to 
be in a sa'uknel sauce, with a side of roast grantel tuber, along with a 
dash of xinquya salad.  That clear things up?"  He broke off his smile in 
time for another bout of noise.

"Not really, but thanks for trying," I replied, poking at it with a fork 
and hoping it wouldn't try to bite me.  "My name's Josh, by the way.  Josh 
Nolan."

"Solun.  Solun Kla'Unkell," said my tablemate, and extended his right paw.  
I reached over the table and shook it.  "Forgive me for not eating with 
you," he continued, "But I'm strictly on nil-by-mouth."  By way of 
emphasis, he rolled his sleeve back to show where an intravenous tube was 
sticking out of his arm.

"Wha -?" I began, but he held a downy finger to his lips, shaking his head.

"We've got a kind of unofficial rule," he said.  "We don't talk about our 
problems at dinner.  The general thought is we've all got problems of our 
own, so there's no use spoiling someone's meal by burdening them with more.  
Besides, it's a challenge to think about other things -" he broke off to 
make his trademark sound again.  "Other things than what brought us here."

"'We' being who?" I asked, slicing off a bit of the gornt and taking the 
plunge of chewing it.  A bit tough, but tasted kind of beefy.  Maybe like 
kangaroo - not that I'd know.

"The long-termers.  The ones, like me, who they keep here because they've 
got nowhere else to put us."  I studied his face, and only caught a hint of 
frustration in his words.  "So it'll be interesting to see if you'll be 
joining the club."

I attacked the tuber this time, trying to not think of the zoo too hard.  
"If I'm going to be long-term, I don't think they'll be letting me in the 
mess," I said, then grabbed a bite of the tuber.  It was kind of like sweet 
potato, only slightly spicy - I wasn't sure if that was the preparation or 
not.

"And why would that be?" asked another voice, and I looked up to see 
someone slot themselves into the seat beside Solun, landing a loaded tray 
with practiced ease.  He looked like a slightly fey male human, his hair 
striped in silver and gold, and his eyes were twinkling at me.  "Has our 
Caamasi friend threatened to throw you out?"  He shot a glance at Solun.  
"Surely not."

Solun opened his mouth to answer, but wound up making that noise again.  A 
few moments afterward, he said, "Herthrir, meet our newest addition.  Josh, 
meet Herthrir."  He nodded gravely towards me with a kind of half-smile, 
and I waved in return.  "And no, I wasn't threatening to throw him out.  I 
think he was skirting the limits of our little rule."

"Well then, I'd best not press him," said Herthrir, starting to shovel some 
salad into his mouth.  "But I do have some news," he went on, his mouth 
still with protruding greenery.  I tried some of the salad myself, only to 
find it was high on the chili-meter.  My nostrils caught fire and sweat 
broke out across my forehead, but neither of the other two seemed to 
notice.

"Really?  And here was I thinking the new guy was all the news we'd have 
today."

"Oh, no.  There's another new patient as well."  He paused dramatically, 
swallowing the salad with no apparent sign of discomfort.  "I saw her in 
the garden.  Princess Leia."

I was glad I'd just swallowed my own mouthful, or I probably would have 
spat it out - and that might have set fire to the table.  "Leia?  Really?"

Solun seemed far more lackadaisical.  "Really?" he echoed, but with nowhere 
near my level of surprise.

"Well, no, Fegrin told me it was just that my medication needs 
readjustment.  But it was her.  She was sitting there, noble and pained... 
poor lady.  The years have been rough on her."

"This 'Leia' - did she look like anyone you've seen before?"  I gathered 
Solun had heard these sorts of claims before.

"No!  That's the thing!  She's travelling incognito.  Fegrin told me she's 
just another patient, and that I should leave her alone - I'd say that's 
pretty good evidence right there."  He nodded at Solun, then looked to me 
for support.

I took a sip of the water I had on my tray, then asked, "This lady - did 
she have, like a splint on her arm and leg?  And probably a bandage on her 
head?"  I tried to stomp down the replay of how she'd gotten that bandage, 
but failed.  As usual.

Herthrir looked amazed.  "Yes!  How'd you know?"

"I came in with her.  I can tell you this much - if she's Princess Leia, 
then I'm Jabba the Hutt."  I took another sip of water to cover my sudden 
mental image of Syl strangling me with a chain.  It's not like she didn't 
have the right, but I found myself wishing the image had decided to dress 
her normally, instead of in that metal bikini.

"But... Jabba's dead," said Herthrir still looking at me, his brow furrowed 
in confusion.

"That's the point," said Solun firmly.  "I think we can stop talking about 
this now, Herthrir."

"Oh, all right," said Herthrir cheerfully, and began to devour his food.  I 
was eating with much less vigour, having been reminded of the reason I was 
here.  I remembered how her eyes seemed to change from a silver colour to 
her normal brown, just before that final impact...

A Wookiee's roar of greeting shook me out of my reverie.  My head shot up 
just in time to see Solun waving to a Wookiee that was ambling towards us 
from the serving area.  "Kelcho!  You're back with us!"

Kelcho roared a reply as he walked to a table next to ours, swatted some 
float-chairs out of the way and sat cross-legged on the floor.  I couldn't 
make out much of his reply - his accent was pretty different to Bracca's - 
but I think he was saying it felt good to be out of somewhere.  I couldn't 
tell where, and it's possible he didn't say.

"Kelcho - meet Josh, the new guy," said Solun, pointing to me, then made 
his signature noise.  He then continued, "Josh, this is Kelcho, our 
resident Wookiee."  Kelcho roared a greeting at me, and I waved back with a 
smile.  I briefly considered roaring my own Wookiee greeting, but I figured 
my accent would be terrible, and in a moment of paranoia it struck me that  
Bracca might have taught me to say something like "Hey, sexy" instead of 
"Hello".

"So tell us about where you're from," said Herthrir, pushing away his 
plate.  He'd eaten just about everying, but left the tuber sitting 
mournfully alone, untouched.  "The rumour is you're from a secret planet.  
How do you people keep a planet secret?"

I swallowed the last of the salad that for some reason I'd decided to 
finish.  "Well, we don't, really.  It's just that it's a primitive society 
- space flight might as well not happen - only a few dozen natives have 
been in space.  And even then, our space travel isn't great - we sent some 
missions to our satellite maybe thirty years ago, and that's as far as 
we've gone.  We use chemical rockets for spaceflight - no repulsors, no 
hyperdrive."

"But you're here," pointed out Solun.

"Yeah, well, the NR took an interest in us a bunch of  years back.  Turns 
out the Empire did, too."  As I said this, I noticed Herthrir throw an 
inquiring look at where Kelcho was staring straight ahead, eating.  "The 
Empire got fairly firmly ensconced on my planet - most people weren't even 
aware they were there."  Herthrir had looked back from Kelcho, and was 
listening to me again.  "They'd clandestinely taken over a nation, more or 
less, lending their military might to the country's ruler.  They'd been 
recruiting all over the world, though, including the nation I'm from.  As 
it turned out, there was a base in the town I was born, and I'd never even 
-"

Herthrir's eyes suddenly grew wide, and he yelled, "LOOK OUT!"  For some 
reason, my adrenaline kicked into high gear and  I kicked back from where I 
was sitting.  The repulsor disc came unstuck from its programmed mooring, 
skimming me backwards, and I heard a table crash beside me.  I looked that 
way just in time to see Kelcho kick his table out of the way and come after 
me, roaring.

I didn't even try to translate that one.  He was mad, and when Wookiees get 
mad, other species wind up missing limbs.  I just would have appreciated 
knowing why.

My back slammed against a wall, and Kelcho was only a few steps away.  I 
saw some orderlies going for their stunners, but I didn't think they'd get 
Kelcho before he got to me.  I'd seen a Wookiee rip people's limbs off 
before, and knew it wouldn't take long for Kelcho to do the same to me.  I 
didn't want to lose my arms - I was kind of attached to them.  If I tried 
to dive away, he'd probably grab my leg and yank that off instead, and who 
knew what else might come off with it.  My only option, unfortunately, was 
to stand and fight.  Again.

I charged Kelcho, which obviously surprised him.  Angry Wookiees generally 
aren't used to things attacking them.  He tried to grab me, but I got 
inside his reach and punched him *here* and *there* and kneed *here*....

...and Kelcho froze.  I fell back - literally, as in 'sprawling on the 
floor' - and the Wookie's expression softened from bestial rage to a kind 
of shocked surprise.  He mewed gently, and began to fold up - and then the 
stun-bolts arrived.  Two struck him from opposite sides of the room, and 
Kelcho hit the ground hard.

"Sithspit," said one of the orderlies, a female human, holstering her 
stunner as she came up.  She glanced at me.  "Are you all right?"

I counted my limbs, found them all still attached, and nodded.  As other 
orderlies moved up to where Kelcho was napping, she offered me her hand to 
help me up.  I took it, and somewhat shakily got to my feet.  "That was 
some stunt you pulled," she said, looking at Kelcho.  "Never seen anyone 
charge an angry Wookiee before."  She shook her head, and then looked at me 
seriously and asked, "You're not on suicide watch, are you?"  She smiled 
then, to show she wasn't being entirely serious.

I shook my head, fighting back the urge to guffaw hysterically.  "Nope.  I, 
uh, I've had a crash course in Wookiee anatomy," I said, trying to get my 
heartrate to settle.

She shook her head, looking back at Kelcho.  Three orderlies were trying to 
maneuver him onto a hover-stretcher, without much success.  "That must be 
some course.  I should try it some day."

"I don't think that'd be such a good idea," I said.  Then after a little 
thought, I added, "Though there's no accounting for taste."  I offered up a 
silent 'thank-you' to Bracca, wherever she was, for showing me those 
sensitive spots... although her reasons had been utterly different, she'd 
just saved my life.  Or at least my arms.

"Sidheia, are you going to stand around chatting or are you going to help 
us with this?" came a fairly testy request from the stretcher crew, and the 
orderly turned around to join them.  I picked up the repulsor disc and made 
my way back to the table, where I managed to sit down again.

"What was all that about?" I asked, eyeing what was left of my meal with no 
trace of appetite.

Solun and Herthrir exchanged glances.  "Kelcho was an Imperial slave," 
explained Solun carefully.  "The sorts of things they did to him were, to 
say the least, unpleasant."  Solun made his little noise, then continued, 
"Kelcho wants to destroy the Empire - every last piece.  Up to and 
including ex-Imperial officers of the New Republic.  I guess you wound up 
sounding a bit Imperial to him."

"I thought he'd be getting better," said Herthrir, apparently rather 
stunned by what had happened.  "The Emperor told me he was sorry for what 
had happened to Kelcho, no matter how necessary it might have seemed at the 
time."  He shook his head, then began to pick distractedly at his food.  I 
swear I heard him say something like,  "Rage... so much rage..."

Solun looked at me, saw the way I was staring at my plate, and said, "I 
guess dinner's over.  Did you want to go walk it off?  There's a garden 
that's quite nice here."

"Yeah, sure," I said, climbing to my feet.  "But, uh, where is it?"

Solun stood up, scooping up his datapad.  "I'll show you," he said, then 
made his little noise again.

We'd gotten maybe a hundred metres from the mess hall when I finally 
plucked up the courage to ask something that'd been bugging me.  "I guess 
it's pretty clear what Herthrir's in for, but what about you?  You seem 
pretty together."

Solun gave me that wide, friendly grin, only marred slightly by the 
strangling sound he made at the same time.  "First up, Herthrir's not just 
in for the sorts of things he thinks.  He's more dangerous than he looks."

"Why's that?  He seemed pretty harmless to me.  A bit deluded, maybe, 
but..."

"That's the thing.  No-one's quite sure how much of what he spouts is 
delusion.  You see, he's a Force-sensitive."

"You what?"  I laughed a little in spite of myself.

"I'm serious.  Apparently Jedi Master Skywalker even once came here to 
check him out for his academy, but wouldn't take him."

"He wouldn't?  But some of the people he's taken -"

"This was after Carida."  Solun made his little noise, almost in emphasis.

"Ah."

"And given that he claims the Emperor occasionally tells him to do things, 
it was considered best if he remained under the best treatment available.  
He might be too dangerous for a regular facility."

"Right."  I glanced at Solun.  "That still doesn't explain you.  Are you 
his Jedi Master or something?"

Solun laughed, but that quickly turned into his strangled sound.  "Nothing 
so grand.  Tell me - have you ever heard of memnii?"

"Transferrable memories among Caamasi?"

Solun grinned ruefully.  "NRI.  You guys know the weirdest things.  So you 
know why we're a peaceful species, as a rule?"

"Vivid memories get etched into you permanently?  Like killing people?"

"Right.  Now, when I was young and foolish, I thought that was a load of 
Huttdrool.  So I became a soldier."  He made that little sound again, and 
no longer looked as cheerful as he had.  "I found out it was true.  And I 
found it out in the middle of some heavy combat before I came here."

"So why..."  I gestured at my arm, in the same spot as his IV.

"Can't keep anything down."  He made his strangled sound again.  "You hear 
that?"

"Yeah..."

"That's me trying to throw up."

**********