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Part 3
"What in space are you doing?"
Wes jumped, sending cards scattering across the desk once again. He'd successfully completed two levels of his tower, after nearly an hour of practice, and was just positioning the first cards for a third level. Now he was back at the beginning, cards flopped haphazardly in a pile. He glared up from his seat behind the desk. "What are you doing down here? Don't you have someone else to harass?"
Hobbie grinned down at him. "Not actually, no. And we're going to Starlees, but wanted to say hi to our favorite doorman first, since we just happened to be passing by." Corran, Gavin, and Inyri all snickered.
Wes scowled. Starlees was a small cantina favored by pilots, located on the far side of the base and several blocks away. His post was not "on the way" there; it wasn't on the way to anywhere. "Ha, ha. So here I am. Glad I could entertain you, please leave tips in the jar and have a nice evening. Now get lost." He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and scowled.
"Now, Janson, is that any way to treat your squadmates?" Inyri tsked, shaking her head. "And here I brought the latest copy of 'Hot Swoops' datazine to keep you company." She waved a datacard in front of his nose, snatching it away just before he could grab it. Inyri tucked the card away in an inner pocket of her nerf-hide flight jacket.
"Awwww, Inyri, come on. Have mercy on a doomed man." Wes pulled his cheery features as close to a mournful, pity-me frown as he could. "I'm gonna die of boredom down here. The cleaning droids will be dragging me out by the heels before morning."
"Sorry, pal. Missed your chance." Inyri hmphed, tossed her hair, and smirked.
Wes resumed his scowl. "All right, never mind. You've had your fun, so get out of here. Kid, you can have my share of the drinks."
Gavin tossed a cheerful salute as he headed for the door. "Will do."
"Ha! Not so fast there, junior, or we'll be dragging you back by the heels," Corran laughed as he and Inyri followed. Hobbie hesitated for a moment.
"Thought you might want these," he said, slipping a small stack of datacards across the desk.
Wes quickly flipped through them -- a couple of good tactical and strategy sims, one moderately good flight sim, and... another copy of Hot Swoops. He sighed happily. "You're a life-saver. I changed my mind, you can have my share."
Hobbie grinned again, pulled a half-cred out of his pocket and tossed it at the desk. "And there's your tip."
The coin bounced once and Wes reflexively snatched it out of the air, then glowered. "Suck lasers, Hutt-face."
"And good evening to you, too," Hobbie replied, swinging a mocking half-bow as he backed toward the door. It swept closed behind him, and Wes was left alone again.
Continued in Part 4...