Ouroboros

Fourteen

Fourteen:

Kaalan Kon Kolb was the master of all he surveyed. Bulky and thickset with tough greyish skin and clothed in silks and metallic fabrics, he cut an imposing figure. His club was as elaborate as his dress, mirrored walls and brilliant lights chasing away any shadows and foiling any attempts at fraud or cheating. Gamers and chancers mingled around the tables and half-clad dancers of all varieties writhed and ground away in their cages while the band delivered their best. Any employee who disappointed Kolb tended to end up marooned on the airless surface with a blaster hole in their face.

Moving through the vibrant multicoloured throng, Poe fashioned a bright smile on his handsome face. Calmly, he pushed to the bar and ordered three generic drinks, smiling as three portions of a greenish liquid were delivered. Finn and Chewie flanked him as they all huddled at the bar, sipping the drink. There were three intakes of breath and then Chewie gave a loud moan.

"Yeah," Poe agreed. "I remembered it being better as well..." Finn cast him a look.

"It couldn't be much worse," he commented. "So what now?" Poe sighed and leaned forward towards the barman.

"Can you tell Kaalan that Poe Dameron wants to speak with him on a Resistance matter?" he murmured and the man nodded, waved to his colleague and vanished into the crowd.

"Is that wise?" Finn asked him as the former pilot shrugged.

"We're Generals in the Resistance who are trying to locate another of our best fighters by getting help for the man who can take us to get her," Poe reasoned. Chewie gave a low moan.

"I agree," Finn said. "Weak." Poe cast him a glance.

"So now you speak Wookiee?" he teased his friend.

"That needed no translating," Finn told him easily and sipped his horrible drink. "You know this grows on you."

"So does Hothian Bindweed," Poe grumbled.

"Mister Kolb will see you-Poe Dameron," a gruff voice said behind him and they turned to see a broad faced reptilian with black eyes and little golden scales over his cheeks.

"Hey, Queedo-good to see you!" Poe replied as the creature gave him a snort.

"If you weren't Resistance, Mister Kolb would have shot you the moment you set foot in Kineva," Queedo sneered, his face twisted in a disgusted look. "But word has it that the Resistance has won, leaving the First Order scattered and broken. So killing the leader of the Resistance would be bad business." Poe nodded, resting his almost-untouched cup on the bar and glancing at his friends. As one, they rose and followed him around the periphery of the room, past the bar and through a beaded screen that concealed a discreet forcefield into Kaalan Kon Kolb's private salon.

The room was dominated with writhing and gyrating humanoid dancers, wearing little but a few strips of silk and smiles, and a golden throne containing the solid shape of Kolb. Armoured enforcers had station in the corners of the room, all bearing blasters that Poe knew Kolb would be very willing to use. He grinned as he faced the man who ran Kineva.

"Kaalan!" he greeted the Boss.

"General Poe Dameron," Kolb growled, his voice like two rocks grinding together. "You owe me a cargo of spice..." Frowning, Poe glanced at his companions.

"I was under the impression that the Crew had already sorted that misunderstanding out," he replied with complete confidence. "And if not, we can negotiate...once we secure your help. We need your healer Tamini for our crew mate..."

"Who may or may not be the infamous Supreme Leader of the First Order, Kylo Ren," Kolb commented. Poe gave a shrug.

"He may look like him but last I heard, Kylo Ren had a nasty slash across his face that our friend Rey gave him with a lightsaber," Finn offered. "Our friend Ben doesn't have one." Kolb inspected him with interest.