Please note that all standard disclaimers apply.
Back in the Game
by Lee Davis and Duann Cowart
Email: bud@frontiernet.net
Part One : The Cantina
Rancer Muldoon leaned back in his chair, looking around the cantina. The din was the usual smoky and surly crowd that Mos Eisley produced on a regular basis. He sipped the concoction that the bartender had assured him was the best thing since stim-tea for fatigue.
Rancer had just come off a long haul from Coruscant, the new capital of the New Republic. He had been running escort missions in an old Y-Wing he had managed to half buy and half trade for. It had taken some rigging to get it into space about three months ago, but at the time he was glad to be away from Corellia, his former home. Now he was about tired of the shabby rooms in shabby spaceports and this place looked like it was going to be even worse than shabby.
Rancer was waiting for a guy who had contacted him while he was on a three day layover on Coruscant. He was not used to getting E-mail other than virtua-sex ads and get rich quick scams. Most of the work he had gotten had been through bartenders or postings on electronic job boards. He hoped this guy was legit. He didn't want to get caught up in any illegal crap like some other, more famous Corellians had. He had heard of Jabba the Hutt and his family and was more than concerned about the rumors he had heard about Tatooine. "A hive of villainy" is not exactly where one looks for honest work, and most especially not the former home of a Hutt crime lord.
He reached down and checked the power supply on his recently acquired Imperial blaster carbine. He used to wear just a blaster pistol but lately space travel had been getting a little rough, though it was no big surprise with the Imperial regulation of trade dwindling into space dust and the New Republic struggling to put ships into service. Rancer smiled. From his angle that was great! The more folks needed protection the more he was in demand. Heck, that was why he was here anyway, the first time anyone had found him for a mission. "I must be building a reputation!" Rancer thought to himself.
**********
As Pate Forn made his way through the streets of Mos Eisley he had a hundred things on his mind. Were the ships ready? Were the people ready? Was all the equipment loaded? He had done this sort of thing a hundred times when he was working for the Empire. But that might as well of been a hundred years ago.
The Empire was a thing of the past for him, and if he could help it, the most distant past possible. After losing his position as a crew chief at an Imperial spaceport three years ago he had returned home to Tatooine. After seeing what the universe had to offer he just could not let his friends and family waste away on this dual sun baked skillet of a planet. He knew of places they could go, places ship captains had told him about, all those places the cargo ships had been.
He had organized a fine group of twenty five farmers, pooled their resources and sold everything they had to buy a ship and supplies. He had even managed to locate a system with a promising planet. With the support of the other farmers he had contacted the local government and made arrangements to start a colony! The supplies they had been able to buy after buying the ship were limited and meager but the planet promised to be extremely fertile and tropical year round. The farming should be great!
As Pate closed on the Cantina where he was supposed to meet the escort pilot he was hoping to hire, he saw an Imperial shuttle cruise overhead on its way to a landing pad. No telling who owns that thing now, he thought, it was hard enough for us to get the old space liner we got.
Pate remembered the day he went to go see the old tub over at the Darklighter estate. The liner had carbon scoring all over it. Pate had seen the type before. Turbolasers made that kind of scoring. The ship looked as if it had been beaten just short of a hull breach. He had been worried about the ship at first, but after the six months of solid work he and the others had put into it he was sure it would make the trip and then some.
Pate looked up and could see the bar ahead, could smell the foulness of the bar as he reached the door. He wondered what manner of man this Mr. Muldoon was. He checked to make sure his blaster pistol charge was good and stepped inside.
**********
Rancer had to agree with the bartender about the qualities of this new drink. He was feeling better. It was a shame he was almost at the bottom of the glass. The stuff was starting to taste pretty good, too.
Rancer reached to hit the ordering consol on the table when a tall human male, wearing desert garb, stepped through the door of the Cantina. The Cantina patrons glanced his way as he came in, but little attention was paid to the average and common looking human. Sun bleached and sweat stained cotton pants and a tunic to match spoke of hours in the Tatooine elements. The blaster worn high on his hip was not out of place, either. Life in the dessert was hard and so were the people that lived in it.
He stepped up to the bar and began chatting with the bartender. After the man had ordered a drink the bartender made a motion with his head toward Rancer's table.
Rancer didn't know what was said but it was easy enough to tell that this guy was looking for him. His hand dropped casually to the grip of his blaster carbine and he watched the weathered looking man make his way through the tables and chairs in the bar toward him. The man's face was tan and leathery but his eyes were bright and looked Rancer right in the soul. Rancer hated it when people looked at him with that much enthusiasm. There were just a few combinations in life that caused that kind of zest in a man. Love would do
it, but Rancer doubted this man was in love with him. A man loving what he was doing could look that way, but worst of all a con man working his scam looked just like that too. The trouble was calling that one in three shot.
Pate studied the supposed pilot as he made his way around the chairs and tables at the front of the bar. Why did he sit in the back of the bar? he wondered as he closed the distance between himself and the table. Pate
took notice of the loose fitting fatigues and partial garrison belt the man wore. They were not Imperial, or at least no Imperial gear he had ever seen before. No rank or insignia was remaining on the fatigues, but of course there wouldn't be. He was working for himself, something Pate had recently begun to respect. The pilot also had a blaster carbine hanging from his shoulder that Pate did recognize.
"Stormtrooper standard issue?" Pate said pointing at the carbine.
"Yup," said Rancer with a flat expression.
"My name is Pate Forn," said Pate as he stuck out his hand for a greeting.
Rancer relinquished his grip on the carbine and shook Pate's hand. "My name is Rancer Muldoon, you sent me some mail. It sounded pretty straight forward. You care to elaborate on the deal?"
"Sure," said Pate. "I represent a small group of people from this planet who want to relocate. We have a ship with a hyperdrive to get us where we want to go, but we are worried about the possibility of pirates. We have invested too much to have it all stolen by thieves, Mr. Muldoon. Our ship is un-armed and we need you to escort us to our destination."
"Destination," echoed Rancer. "You can elaborate some more..."
Pate hesitated a moment, wondering whether or not he should reveal their destination. Finally, he responded with a sigh, "We are headed for the Churba system. Just one ship - an old space liner. There's twenty five of us."
"Churba," echoed Rancer. "That's several jumps. My ship is a fighter. We will have to layover a lot, and that means hotels and spaceport food. You gonna include that in the payment?"
Pate scratched his chin in thought. "I guess so. I hadn't figured that into costs. We can go all the way to the Churba system without stopping in our ship. To tell you the truth, Mr. Muldoon, I don't think we can pay you more than a thousand credits to escort us."
Rancer sighed loudly. " One thousand. It will cost me one hundred credits in docking fees just to get off this sand box! If we stop at any REAL planets it will cost even more! I don't know if this is gonna work, Pate. Say! How did you hear about me anyway?"
Pate looked a little shocked. "The man we bought the ship from recommended you and gave us your address. His name is Darklighter. Maybe you have heard of his son Biggs Darklighter?"
"Yea, I've heard the whole Death Star story about a million times. Sorry the kid got vaped."
Pate smiled. "Oh, I only met Biggs once at a spaceport where I used to work. He wasn't even born when I left Tatooine."
Rancer looked unusually sad for a moment. "Yea, I've had my share of friends and family meet the wrong end of Imperial justice."
Pate smiled again. "So, Rancer, are you going to Churba with us?"
Rancer grimaced. "Yea...we'll work something out for layovers. I'm gonna need half now so I can pay to get off this rock and make a few repairs. When will you and your people be ready?"
Pate smiled openly with excitement, "We're ready now, but I would like to give everyone some time to say their good byes and pay their last respects before we take off. Would tomorrow morning be alright with you?"
Rancer let go a sigh of relief. "That would be fine. I could use the rest," and thinking And the time to look up this Darklighter fellow and see how he knows me.
Pate glanced around the room and then whispered to Rancer, "We'll be at landing pad 17 at 0730. See ya there, and I'll have your half payment credited by then, too." Pate slapped Rancer on the back and said loudly, "Well I'll see ya later then! Have a good day!"
Rancer just waved as the delighted desert dweller waltzed out of the bar.
**********
Darklighter, who was this guy anyway? Sounded like a used ship salesman of some kind. The name did sound familiar but then there had been that Biggs character in every vid in the galaxy for the past few years.
Rancer walked up to one of the better looking hostels - it only had three hookers out front. He walked in and asked for a clean room. The attendant gave him a key card after he had paid for the room.
"Room 5," Rancer mumbled to himself as he wondered down the hall of the one-story 10 room establishment. He would have brought his things if he had any, but unfortunately his bags had been swiped at the Coruscant spaceport while he was trying to get a taxi. All he actually had were the clothes on his back
and the jumpsuit he wore to work on the Y-Wing. He had kept his blasters in his ship when he was on Coruscant. He didn't figure he'd need them there, plus he had doubted that the spaceport authorities would let him through with them anyway. At least he was still armed and had his money–what little money he had
anyway.
"I guess I ought to buy some new clothes," Rancer thought.
"I need to get cleaned up and into some fresh duds," Rancer said to himself cheerfully. "And swing by the spaceport information booth and see if I can find anything out about this Darklighter fellow."
**********
Pate was thrilled. Everything was going so well! The pilot seemed a decent fellow, although a bit paranoid. He couldn't wait to tell the others that they were finally ready to leave!
Pate strolled by the landing pad where the ship sat ready and loaded. He noticed that same Imperial shuttle that had flown over just a half hour earlier.
There was an unusual alien checking over the ship. Pate had been right–that certainly was not an Imperial shuttle anymore. The alien had greenish fleshy tails coming off of its head with no hair at all. It looked otherwise human. He, or at least he thought it was a he, wore baggy un-bleached cotton pants with a red loin cloth over them and a yellow sash that went from right shoulder to left hip. Pate also noticed a blaster hanging from his right side and what looked like a sword on his left side. The fellow looked a little dirty and unkept all over. But hey, some times you have to get messy to get the job done.
Pate turned away from the spaceport and headed back to his speeder so he could share the good news with his friends.
Continue . . .
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