Chapter Six

Glann almost laughed it was so absurd.

For a few brief moments it seemed as if Dressel might just keel over with surprise at the invitation, and Glann had to muster all his years of experience playing Sabacc just to keep a straight face. Lately things had been so ludicrously bad that even the smallest pleasures gave him temporary relief from the ocean of lunacy that swirled around him. Seeing his oldest adversary and oldest college temporarily caught out like that was an image he’d likely never forget.

“I’m sure you heard me correctly the first time Dressel. My main Banqueting Hall at the Fortress, tomorrow night. And please come appropriately dressed for the occasion.”

It was either shock or suspicion in his voice, Glann couldn’t quite tell but Dressel quickly regained his composure and nodded shortly.

“My thanks for the invitation. I’ve heard of your recent problems.” He paused, just for effect. “I’m surprised you have the time or the inclination to hold such an event.”

Glann didn’t facially register any emotion at the remark; he simply leaned back in his seat.

“Mere stories. Nothing of any consequence. You of all people should know the dangers in believing half-truths.”

Dressel frowned, despite himself. Glann and Dressel had once been partners, for almost fifteen years, conning their way around the galaxy with fellow smugglers Anzai Karoo, Riger and Dessio D’Staan, at the time Glanns closest friend. Cipple and Dressel had parted company on bad terms after an unfortunate string of events – the selling out of a family of Jedi to the Empire on Trefnare, Riger’s death. They set up operations on opposite sides of the sector, with Dressel having run his deals out of Cawbate for almost two decades. The two agreed to stay well away from each other’s turf, but that was easier said than done. They shared a grudging respect for each other, and a genuine respect for each other’s abilities. An invitation like this was seldom offered and rarely taken.

“I’ll expect your arrival at your convenience.”

Dressel smiled and half-nodded.

“Until tomorrow.” His Holo-image faded from sight with a crackle.

Cipple paused for a moment, lost in thought. Entertained as he was by Dressels reaction he was also surprised by it. Dressel wasn’t one to let emotions slip out so easily. His invitation must have genuinely taken him aback. But why? It wasn’t as if it was the first time he’d laid down such an invite? Then again he thought, it’s highly likely that Dressel was one of the major benefactors of the disk information. And a man as dangerous as Dressel would certainly know what to do with it.

“Melm. My office. Now.”

But why would Dressel accept an invite now if he were in possession? Surely he would have to assume that I would know about the disks new owners? Given our shared history he’d naturally believe that I would view him as my number one suspect. With a little inside help. That fact still irked Glann. Who was their `Naaven’, their mole? Had he sold to the highest bidder or exclusively to one buyer? And who? Cipple had his own hit list of possible buyers, one as long as his arm. And if he could have his way, they’d be dealt with soon.

And severely.

Melm entered the office with a soft shuffle of his plimpsoled feet and waited beside Glanns desk.

“Are the arrangements under way for tomorrow?”

“Everything is in order. My men are securing the area and running a full security sweep. I also took the liberty of recalling some of the best Shadow Warriors from neighbouring systems. It seemed the prudent thing to do.”

Glann nodded. Melm was given a lot of latitude regarding such matters and he’d not let Glann down. A show of strength to Dressel and his party would soon spread the word - Glann Cipple was as strong as he ever was, and if anyone dared argue with that fact they need only pay a visit to his Fortress. He’d be more than willing to show them otherwise.

“Prepare a meeting for 20.00 hours in the briefing room. Inform my senior staff and tell them to be there.” He turned his leather seat to face his Shadow Warrior. “This must go off without a hitch. With Dressel present I have the opportunity to reveal my resilience to a theft such as this. See that it doesn’t slip away.”

Another allusion to the stolen disk. Melm turned and exited through his secret entrance to Glanns office, returning to the Shadow Warrior complex on the fourth floor.

The man in the frayed leather jacket had been tailed for over three hours now; his pursuer staying within the envelope of dark shadows and cuts in the walls. He knew he had a tail, he just couldn’t find him. He’d entered the bar an hour ago and was only now exiting the crowded establishment, swaying slightly under the influence. His eyes still darted back and forth, left and right as if seeking out some prey. But his steps were uneven and wobbly and the caution he’d displayed earlier was gone. Perhaps the soak of Flameout would rid him of the bothersome hanger-on. Then again, maybe not. He slewed his way toward the motel area lining the docking port and attempted to locate his room.

Before he entered he had the distinct feeling that someone already inside. His brain cursed his common sense as he told himself a sober man would have thought twice before entering. He barely had the capacity to think once. His apartment was small and squalid; the walls painted a simple lime green. A bed filled the main space, a chair perched in the corner. He activated the light and seated himself. He’d wrapped his leather coat around his waist to keep it out of his way, so he began to pull it off, and without quite knowing what was happening the arms of his coat were slinking their way behind the chair, twisting through the back slats so that he was caught around the waist and arms, unable to move.

“Hey, wossgoinon?” he complained mildly, the room still spinning before his eyes. “I ain’t gottimeferthis.”

There was no reply, just the rhythmic breathing of breathing apparatus.

“Yer gonna payferthis.”

No reply.

“Show yerself!” He began to get agitated, even more so when the mysterious figure moved into view and eventually into focus. It leaned forward menacingly.

“Do you recognise me?”

The man recoiled in shock, his nostrils flaring in fear. He most certainly did.

“Pal, I wouldn’t recognise my own Granny if she came riding in on a Gundark wearing a Top Hat.” He’d sobered up in record time, but not enough to sound convincing. Carlonian Feese sat on the edge of the wall-shelf and lifted the front chair legs off the ground with a steel-booted foot. The man gulped loudly.

“Think harder.”

It wasn’t a request, but still the man persisted with his charade.

“Seriously pal, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just an honest trader doing some business before moving on.”

“In my experience there’s no such thing as an honest trader.” He leaned the chair back to a sharper angle, keeping the man off balance. “Talk now, and quickly before you lose more than your balance.”

The man took a deep breath.

“What is it you want to know? I don’t know much but I’ll tell you what I can. If you agree to let me go after.”

Feeses’ facemask turned to glare directly at the man, catching the late afternoon light on the cerated edges. It covered his Mon Calamarian features perfectly and more. An aura of mystique had arisen around Feese, about what might have lay behind the mask. Few had seen, and those who had had never forgotten. Carlonian Feese didn’t make deals with scum like this.

“Tell me now and you won’t regret it. Hold out on me any more and you will.”

“All right!” He shouted with more than an edge of panic. “All right, I’ll tell you. I’m a courier. I’m hired to deliver disks, tapes, information packets, hard copies, anything to do with information gathering. I take them all around the Mid-Rim. Three days ago I was hired by someone - ”

“ - Who?” interrupted Feese sharply.

“I don’t know, it was all done by voice mail. Whoever it was hired me to collect the disk from a locker in the spaceport and take it directly to Chancai. Then I was to hand it over to someone there who would deliver it on to its final owner.”

“Who was the buyer?”

The man shrugged as best he could.

“You don’t get told those sort of things. I’m just a middleman. But whoever it was is based on Chancai, I can tell you that.”

Feese snarled angrily and let the chair slam to the floor with a thump.

“That tells me nothing. You are of no further use to me.” He stood back from the seat and produced his blaster rifle, swinging it down and aiming it at the forehead of the quaking man.

“No! I’ve told you everything I know!” he lied. True, he had taken the disk to Chancai, but it was there that he had passed it on to Grand Moff Treece. That transaction had netted him a tidy sum. He’d even got transport out of the city, thanks to a departing Imperial transport.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t finish you off here and now?” Feese paused, tightening his grip on the rifle.

The man closed his eyes and slowly shook his head, burying it into the folds of his collar.

“Because I could still be of some use to you.”

“How?”

“I could gather information, report back to you on a regular basis. I know there’s nowhere to hide from you if I let you down. Besides, no employer could pay me enough to cross Carlonian Feese.”

Feese almost smiled behind the mask. This was becoming worth the effort.

The man shakily continued.

“There’s places I can go, confidences I can use, people I have access to that your operation knows nothing about. It’s got to be worth the risk for the knowledge I can bring you...what do you say?” He turned, shuffling around in his seat. Feese had silently exited the room, leaving behind a comm unit. It crackled softly.

“I’ll find you when I want the information.” Feese growled. “And one final thing. When you manage to untie yourself, check the bottom of your boot. You might find something to remind you of the agreement we have entered.”

Confused, the man swung his boot up to his face. Empty. The other. Feese had stuck to the sole a small, black calling card. He gasped in horror. It meant one thing - Feese had marked him as a potential hit, not now but one day. Better to kill himself now than betray Feese in the future.

“…fail me and you may as well start packing your belongings. I think that’s clear enough. Now Gentlebeings, as time is so very precious I suggest we depart and continue our preparations.” Cipple finished.

All gathered at the briefing room table nodded solemnly and stood from their chairs. Quiet conversation broke out as Glanns department heads conferred with each other and filed from the room, leaving only Glann, Melm, Bella and Feese behind. Waiting until the final man had gone, they grouped around the head of the table.

“So what do you think?” asked Bella of the assembled group. “Do you think anyone is going to fall for this, or will it be just another exercise in futility?”

Many would have winced at the use of such barbed comments in Cipples company, but the men had got used to Bella’s direct ways and had learned to accept them. For his part Glann just nodded.

“I’m sure we will find out tomorrow. However, one thing is for sure. Whoever hired the courier Feese intercepted will have learned a very important lesson.”

His assembled colleges smiled conspiratorially.

“I fully intend tomorrows assembly to show the sector that we’re still in the business of making an honest credit out of the average man. Dressel will leave here in one piece and tell his assorted cohorts that my operation is unchanged and that reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.”

Bella smiled and stood next to his seat.

“You seem to have this all worked out?”

“Don’t I always? Someone out there has in their possession a disk containing just enough relevant information to cause me concern. If they search hard enough they will find information that will certainly cause them great concern.” Cipple deferred to his lieutenant Melm.

“All Shadow Warriors are on alert, gathering information and tracking the movements of opposing operatives throughout the sector. Nothing overtly unusual has occurred as yet, but we are analysing the information hourly. If anyone makes a move on the information contained in the disk, we’ll be there.”

“And has anyone yet?” asked Feese, reclining in his seat. Melm nodded.

“As expected, some agents followed the Berone Sunrise to Chancai and made contact with the team. Lomona’s party will not arrive at their next destination for ten days but already we have monitored a steady accumulation of activity in the area.”

Feese frowned. He could fathom the need for information gathering on the route, but why not simply eradicate the opposition? He leaned forward.

“This information. It’s all very good, but why don’t you just have them taken out? I could be out there doing something useful instead of kicking my fins back here.” Glann shook his head.

“I appreciate your concerns but you’ll soon fill a vital role.”

Carlonian Feese appeared interested at this, which was a hard emotion to convey through such an all-encompassing facemask.

Glann laced his fingers.

“Dressel will naturally expect me to have deployed all of my best men to hunt down the opposition. After all, it makes sense. However, if you and some of my other top assassins are present for the gathering then Dressel is surely going to relay the information to his collaborators. Feese is on Amagad. That is a byte of information that will be welcomed with open arms by all who oppose us. And it is a telling indicator of how respected you are within the underworld community.”

Feese inclined his head in a respectful nod to his employer. His reputation meant more to him than anyone would ever know, and to be endorsed by his boss in such a generous manner was praise indeed.

“I understand. Who else will be present for the banquet?”

Glann Cipple waved his arms out expansively.

“Who won’t? All of my Amagad operatives will be there, as will most of my city council. I’ve invited some local celebrities, as well as the celebrated off-world singer Toni Meera. Dressel will of course bring his own entourage. I’ve even extended an invite to our venerable Grand Moff Treece, but I doubt very much that such a busy and important man will be able to attend such a trivial gathering.” He smiled at the thought of Treece drunk and disorderly on rich Amagadian wine. “Expect the room to be packed to the gills.”

Feese frowned.

Glann nodded his head in amused deference.

“If you’ll pardon the expression.”

The day passed uneventfully as the preparations continued for the banquet. Glann had specially prepared food flown in through the curfew to his Fortress; scores of waiters and waitresses were hired for the occasion. Melm’s men and women were briefed on the relevant security protocols, Glanns gunmen and security guards the same. Around the city the meeting was the talk of the bars, restaurants and eateries, the populace intrigued by the workings and machinations of their five-time governor. Even though the flight curfew hadn’t been lifted, ships regularly flew above the city, scouting out locations for possibilities of trouble. It was known, even down here at ground level where the `normal’ occupants of the city of Amagad lived and worked, that whatever Glann Cipple wished usually had a habit of happening. Though they didn’t understand the mechanics of the operations they were always of great interest. Amagadians were, if nothing else, inquisitive. And the dealings of Cipple were enough to pique the interest of even the least nosy city dweller.

It was approaching 19.00 hours when the sleek starship conveying Dressel and his party arrived at the starport. The expansive vessel had to be accommodated at the largest of the many ports dotted throughout the city, its support ships within the others nearby. A cool breeze whistled through the dusk soaked port as Dressel disembarked his ship. Waiting at the foot of the ramp was a motley honour guard of Cipples men. Silently the ramp lowered, to reveal a similar crew of Dressels men. Eyeing each other with obvious distrust the two groups began their walks toward each other, neither breaking eye contact. Nothing was said, nothing inferred as Melm stepped forward and nodded curtly to his counterpart from Dressels party. The female Duros returned the greeting and motioned to her man at the top of the ramp, taking her place beside Melm.

“Good evening Kailo. It has been too long.”

The female nodded.

“That it has Melm. Are we honouring the usual agreements?”

Melm ran his hand through his flowing white hair and almost let slip a smile to the Duros. Upon meetings like this there was always a set of protocols that had to be closely adhered to. In this case it was that Dressels men were allowed to keep their weapons with them, holstered and set to stun in the event of self-defence. And to follow the instruction of the native ganglord. Simple, effective etiquette, instrumental in keeping the peace.

“Of course. Why, can you think of any other way to operate without leading to bloodshed?”

“I cannot.” She glanced at the human. “But one day I’ll think of something to keep us both on our toes.”

Melm nodded silently. There had always been communication, of sorts, between the two groups. Despite their bosses falling out many years before, the employees came into contact on regular occasions. Melm had found Kailo to be an efficient and honest operative of Dressels who valued her employer and had long ago earned his trust. While that made her a worthy foe it also gave her an element of honour, something Melm regarded highly.

“We are ready for Dressel now.” Melm stated and Kailo motioned to the ramp sentry. Seconds later Dressel appeared dressed immaculately in the finest soft brown leather jeans, royal blue long jacket and white ruffled shirt. When Glann had said to come dressed properly for the occasion Dressel had certainly taken note. Dressel would be mixing with the cream of Amagadian high society tonight, as well as the cream of a number of other worlds for good measure. He wouldn’t look at all out of place. Stepping onto the ramp he took a good lungful of air and began his descent, his men falling into step behind him. Finally he reached the bottom and motioned for the ramp to close. The starships engines were still ticking over as he moved over to Melm.

“Ahh, Melm. So good to see Glann has the decency to send his hardiest man to greet me after my voyage. How are you?”

It was an overtly friendly greeting that made Melm squirm. He’d never been comfortable with small talk, or good at accepting compliments.

“I am well. And you?”

Dressel smiled a wide smile and turned to Kailo.

“Couldn’t be better. Isn’t that right old friend?”

Kailo nodded in agreement. Things had been on the up with Dressels operation. He’d made inroads into the Quarshannel Sector, a notorious area of space beset on all sides from war, pirates and adverse navigational conditions. To make a profit in such an inhospitable region of space was an undoubted triumph, one that he was happily parading around the sector. Glann never had a truly successful operation running out of that area of space, although Jan Lomona, Anzai Karoo and Goah Galletti had made a few attempts in the past. Dressel clapped his hands together, rubbing them quickly.

“Well Melm. Take me to your leader.”

Melm simply turned and began his walk out of the port, followed by his men, Dressel and his entourage and the starship which was smoothly rising form the port and making its way into high orbit.

Luxurious was simply not enough to describe the feast that lay before them on the banqueting tables. Fit for a King may have almost been a fitting description for the spread, but failed to convey the vastness and range of replenishments on offer. Glann smiled a small but content smile as he approached the entrance to the raised stage where himself and his party would feast, along with Dressel and his contingent. The banqueting hall was packed to the rafters, its walls decorated with fine silks and drapes, the floor carpeted with the most expensive coverings. Above, the glass ceiling gave a clear view of the cool night and the twinkling stars above. Along with his employees, local dignitaries and off-world guests Glann enjoyed the fine view. Dressels men sat patiently, dressed smartly for the occasion, looking slightly uncomfortable. Surely none of them had ever seen such a display at a meal, even at one of Dressels own lavish gatherings. Cipple had surpassed himself, and for a meeting arranged at such short notice it was indeed a victory, albeit a small one.

Glann twitched as Bella twisted him around to arrange the small spray of flowers in his buttonhole, gazing into his eyes as she did so. Glann raised his eyebrows as she finished.

“Do I look presentable? Or would you have me change into something else?”

“A younger incarnation of yourself would be nice, but the old you will do.” Bella grinned and planted a firm kiss on his cheek. “Now go out there and tell Dressel what for. Let him see he’s messing with the wrong ganglord.”

“Yes, my dear.” Glann began the walk up the stairs, flanked by Melm and Feese who would be joining him at the top table. Parallel to Glanns entrance Dressel appeared at the opposite side of the stage and stepped out. In a display of friendliness, that those in the know knew was well rehearsed the two men shook hands and took their places at the table. Glann held the chair for Bella to sit while Dressel helped his beautiful girlfriend, a stunning blue-skinned Twi’lek named Saarla, to her seat. When all were seated Glann stood and waited for silence. It wasn’t long coming. He took a sip from his glass.

“My friends. I have invited you here today in celebration. Firstly, it is soon the third anniversary of my marriage to my beloved wife Bella.” Glann nodded in appreciation at the warm applause and waited for it to die down. “She has enriched my life in so many ways and made me see the good when once all I could see was the bad. For that I shall always love her. Secondly, today is the Fourth Day of Belgorrah, a holy Amagadian festival that all at my home have celebrated for many years, as do many in the city.”

The day held more than just a religious connotation, and dozens in the audience knew it. It was fifteen years to the very day since Glann had successfully seen off a consortium of gangsters who had collaborated together to overthrow him while he was still in the early stages of embedding his operation into the fabric of the Setnin underworld. It was a victory hard earned, and an anniversary not lost on Dressel who raised his glass and nodded at his old compatriot.

“I ask you to raise your glasses to Belgorrah. May her spirit guide us all.”

All in the room fell silent for a moment as the ritual respect was observed. Glann continued.

“Finally, I have great cause for celebration today with the visit of my old partner Dressel. We have been friends for many years now, sharing business and pleasure alike. It honours me to welcome him into my home.” He smiled his tight smile at Dressel and nodded. “To your continued health Dressel. May all your choices be good ones.”

Dressel stood and raised his glass in a similar gesture.

“Glann. When I received your invitation I was more than a little surprised. Knowing how busy you are I didn’t think you would find time for such an ostentatious gathering. How gratifying to see the effort you have made to impress an old spacer like me.”

That received warm applause and a wary smile from Glann that all but said, `remember whose house you sleep in tonight’.

“I find myself remembering older, more simple times…. But once I see the feast before us I find myself forgetting them again!” More applause. “To your health Glann, and to your beautiful wife also. May you disk-over all the happiness you deserve.”

Glann squinted at Dressel as he seated himself and smirked at his small entourage. Nice play on words thought Glann. Disk-over indeed. With this comment Dressel had all but confirmed to Glann what he needed to know. He had the disk. And with it, Dressel could be his most dangerous opponent.

Music began to pump through the auditorium from the Jizz-Wailers in the corner on a raised dais. Glann had always been partial to their energetic style of music and booked them regularly to keep them on planet, such was their popularity. Later the singer Toni Meera, a famous chanteuse from out of the sector who was well accustomed to singing for Moffs and royalty, would entertain them. Tonight she would be part of the backdrop for Glann and Dressels discussions. Glann hoped she would prove to be as distracting as she was billed to be. Glann waited as a servant piled his plate with succulent Shava roots and Belden cutlets, pored over with a generous helping of Fava gravy. He turned and faced Dressel who was enjoying the attentions of his underage and underdressed female companion.

“I see your taste in women has changed little in recent years.”

Without looking over Dressel squeezed the Twi’lek in an unspecified location, eliciting from her a groan of pleasure and shifted her off his lap. He took a mouthful of his meal and surveyed the banqueting hall, ignoring Glanns comment.

“How many men do you employ now Glann?”

Cipple chewed thoughtfully on his food.

“I can’t tell you that. Suffice to say it’s more than you think. I might ask you the same.”

Dressel smiled.

“You might.”

“However, it’s not a question of manpower that’s the issue here. It’s the manpower you choose to employ. And the company you choose to keep.”

Dressel semi-frowned.

“I don’t follow.”

Glann faced him directly.

“Oh no? I understand you’re quite the follower these days. For your sake I hope you know who you’re following.”

Dressel finished chewing and took a mouthful of his wine as the Twi’lek and his aides glared back at Glanns party. Bella was staring rigidly back at her, and around the table small battles of will were being waged.

“I take it this is a reference to your recent loss?”

“A recent theft…. of sorts.”

Dressel eyed Glann closely, trying to fathom out his inference but failing. Glann rarely said something without meaning, and Dressel would have to figure its meaning later.

“So the rumours were true?”

Cipple shook his head and smiled a thin smile.

“Coyness doesn’t suit you.” Glann chewed some more food.

“Whatever do you mean old friend? Perhaps you think I’m somehow involved? Is that what this is about?”

Glann paused. The game was afoot. This was where he could learn who else had the information. Glann was ninety-nine percent certain Dressel possessed the disk, but who else? He’d find out, unless Dressel was playing it smart too. Knowing him as well as he did Cipple wouldn’t be surprised if this were an elaborate ruse to undermine things even further.

Sabacc had never been so deadly.

Glann continued.

“What I think is irrelevant. We are here today in celebration of our long association, one that I hoped could continue. I assume it will?”

Dressel smirked and began to relax in his seat, a body language Glann noticed immediately. It was a sure sign that Dressel believed he was gaining the upper hand. Pretty soon he’d be swinging his feet onto the table, and soon after making love to the Twi’lek girl on the bandstand. With him this at ease it might be a chance to find an opening.

“Glann, Glann. You must understand.” He paused as he leaned forward. All the others around the table shifted their positions. Even though the conversation had been conducted solely between the two gangleaders didn’t mean that the rest of the table wasn’t part of the meeting, far from it. They would offer their unique perspectives on the conversation later, noting body language and the like. While the main swing of the party continued on the main floor, the real reason for the meeting took place on a two-meter square table, with ten people and a few plates of food. It could have cost a hundred credits and catered for a dozen instead of costing one hundred thousand and catering for almost a thousand. “I’m here for the food and the company. Any other discussion would be...inappropriate.”

“And why is that?”

Dressel shook his head.

“That would be telling.”

All paused, waiting for the next move, the next sign. Cipple looked around the table before finally laying his gaze upon Dressel again.

“Hypothetically….” probed Glann.

“Hypothetically of course.” replied Dressel slowly.

“If your organisation came into possession of an item of such...alleged delicacy, what action would you take?” Glann tilted his head slightly, to feign interest at an answer he suspected he already knew. Dressel however was silently surprised. Glann had a tendency to understate facts, giving little away. This `hypothetical question’ wasn’t as understated as usual. Dressel sat straight in his seat again and edged forward.

“If I came into possession? Well, obviously it would be an item of great importance, containing vital information. Surely, if I did own a copy, I couldn’t be expected me simply give it up? Any sane operator would understand the obvious advantages of owning such an item?” Dressel paused for a heartbeat, wiping his top lip with a slender fingertip. The room’s temperature had increased markedly in the last few moments. “Tell me Glann. If the tables were reversed and it was yourself in such an advantageous position. Would you hand such an item over?”

Glann paused and then pushed his empty plate away from him. They’d danced around similar subject’s twenty years ago when they were much younger. All was being said. And nothing.

“If I came into possession of such an item, containing such allegedly vital information I would do two things. Firstly, if the `item’ in question was something like, oh I don’t know, say a data disk,” He tried to gauge Dressels reaction but there wasn’t one. “On the remaining space I would add match statistics of my favourite Hardball team, just so there was something of genuine importance on there. Secondly, I would not let anyone know that I had come into possession of a disk - I might one day wish to acquire another one, by which time security protocols would have doubtless been upgraded.”

Cipple noticed Dressel raise an eyebrow at this and glanced sidelong at Feese who was stock-still and barely breathing.

“So in answer to your question, no. I would not hand over such an item. However, if the situation ever arose the last person to discover its disappearance would be the unfortunate fool who lost it.”

Dressel nodded pensively, softly stroking the blue head-tails of the Twi’lek. Bella looked at Glann, who in turn took in the rest of the table’s occupants with a broad glare. Toni Meera had just arrived on stage and her soft sensuous tones were every bit as stunning as Glann had been promised. Without another word, all their attentions turned to the dais and the enchanting singer.