EPILOGUE 

Station bars were rarely noted for their decor, but this particular example stood out for its decadence.  Bounty Hunters, assassins, smugglers and experts in every profession guaranteed to send you on a one-way trip to Kessel frequented the bar, jostling for position and noisily engaging in conversation.  It was into this bar, high above the industrial world of Livill, that the young smuggler entered.

He stood tall, well over two metres.  His shoulder-length dark blond hair fell around his shoulders and his ocean blue eyes surveyed the room.  He wore a bright orange jacket, his black jeans complimented by the low-slung blaster that hooked around them.  In his brief eighteen years of life he’d seen more worlds and more trouble than most smugglers twice his age and had gained a reputation as a hot shot who finished jobs and tied up the loose ends.  Many employers had vied for his services but he resisted.  He enjoyed the life and privileges of a free-lancer and the variety it gave his career. The big fees they talked about while trying to secure his services was merely the icing on the cake.

   “Bar-baby, Duarga at table fifteen.”  He yelled as he swung his fresh new Goolarr-skin boots onto the tabletop and leaned back into the chair.  Livill Station had become a regular haunt for him lately, his runs taking him further and further away from his home sector of Setnin.  He recognised some faces, a few enemies and a couple of friends. He knew that they all recognised him - his last run to the Vosside Station had seen to that.  His bottle of Duarga was passed to him by a Robo-Waiter and with a twist of the cap the wine was free to drink.  Leffaa, the Arconan bartender smiled as Jan put most of the bottle away with a hefty gulp.

   “You’d better take it easy.  A-desandian Duarga has a mighty hard kick.” 

   “Let it kick.  I’m in the mood for a hangover.  Besides,” The Smuggler smiled.  “ain’t you heard?  Us A-desandians are a barkeeps best friend.  We turn all the alcohol to sugar.  Keep ‘em coming.” 

As he turned back to his bottle a blaster bolt punctuated the loud buzz of conversation drawing all eyes towards the door and the three gunmen that filled it.

   “Who are they?”  Asked Leffaa. 

The smuggler grinned.

   “Angry, Tired and Upset. Better keep your head down, this looks like trouble.”

   “Lomona!  Where the hell is Lomona?  I want Lomona!” 

Jan Lomona grinned at Leffaa as the head gunman stalked around the bar.  The atmosphere was electric.

   “I never could keep a secret.”  Jan shrugged.  The crowd parted like a wave as the three gunmen cut a swathe through to a table, where a lanky kid with his back facing them swigged from a long red bottle.  The lead man stepped forward.

   “Lomona….”  He growled.  “I oughta kill you right now.” 

Lomona grinned an ingenious smile.

   “Plug away.  It’s the best chance your sorry butt’s ever going to get.” 

Silence.  No one dared move except for Jan who swung his feet off the table and spun around in his chair to face the man who towered above him.  Lomonas face registered recognition. 

   “Mantal?  Oh yeah, I remember you.  Did you ever fix that hyperdrive motivator out on the Rim?”  He grinned.  “Bad timing, that. Glann needed a run out to the Vosside Station.”  He tapped his new boots.  “It was a good run.” 

Mantal stared and moved around Jan to sit in the opposite chair, waving Leffaa over as he did.

   “Corellian Spice Wine.  Two mugs and one place mat.  This punks final drink won’t need a place to rest.” 

Jan raised his eyebrows in mock fear.  The atmosphere was charged. 

   “You’ve got a big mouth kid.”  Mantal began.  “You should show more respect.”

   “I do.  When it’s due.”

   “You’re out here, on your own.  No friends to back you up in a fight.  Like now.”  Jan inclined his head in agreement.

   “I’ve never needed friends.  My life’s complicated enough with just me in it.”  He leaned forward with a look of mock appreciation on his face.  “Awww, you’re not worried about me, are you Manty-baby?  Gee, I’m touched.” 

At this the older mans face twisted up.

   “Like I said, you’ve got a big mouth - “

   “ - all the better to chew up and spit out an old has-been like you.”  Interrupted Lomona.  That was the signal.  Both went for their side arms and twenty years ago Mantal might have beaten Jan.  But not today.  Mantals gun was halfway between clearing his holster and the table.  Lomonas muzzle was buried deep within the folds of fat covering Mantals belly.  He froze.

   “My mouth’s not all I shoot off.”  Growled Lomona, all traces of humour vanished like a vapour.  “Drop the blaster.  Now” 

Mantal complied, letting his firearm clatter to the floor.

   “I’ve got six men covering you.”

   “And I’ve got an itchy trigger finger.  Better pray I don’t have to scratch it.” 

Mantal was sweating profusely now.  Jan Lomona looked and sounded serious. 

He was.

   “Alright son, I can see I’ve made a mistake here.  I’ll take my men and leave.” 

That was all he had to say.  Jan grinned and leaned back into his seat.

   “Okay.” 

Mantal paused, unsure as to whether Lomona was being serious.  He was, and Mantal bent down to retrieve his blaster.

   “Ah-ah-ah.  Mister Pistol stays right where he is.  I’ll send him on later.” 

Mantal frowned but decided not to pursue the matter.  He stood, motioned to the other two men to follow him and exited from the bar.  All eyes rested on Jan as he holstered Mantals gun into his empty holster and kissed his own blaster with a relish.  He noticed a shadow fall over him as he tucked his weapon away, a shadow that he wholly approved of.  With a broad grin he looked up.

   “How can I be of assistance?” 

The woman smiled.

   “That depends, Mister…?” 

   “Lomona.  Jan Lomona.  Captain Lomona.  But you can call me Jan.  Or any time you please.”  He rose from his chair and motioned to the still warm seat opposite.  She eased herself into it with a cool smile.

   “Mantal was right.  You do have a big mouth, don’t you.” 

Jan nodded in agreement and returned to his seat.

   “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.  As you so obviously agree.” 

She nodded.  Her long auburn hair tumbled onto her face and she flicked it away.  She was much older than Lomona but possessed a youthful quality that belied her years.  Jan guessed she was in her late forties.  And she obviously worked out regularly - women couldn’t simply be poured into leather suits like that.  She looked a class act.  Jan’s kind of act.

   “So, how can I help you?” 

She rested her arm on the table, leaning in towards Jan and without realising it he moved in as well.

   “I’m travelling out to the Rim and I need an escort.  An armed escort.” 

Jan grinned.

   “Do I look like the kind of guy who’d get involved with escort agencies?”

   “Yes.”  She answered coyly. 

Jan shook his head, still smiling.  This could be fun.  A trip to the Rim with an experienced, older woman in tow.  Who knows what sights she could show me?  Yes, it could well be worth the time.

   “Would you want passage on my ship or would you prefer it if I followed behind?”  Jan had a big chow-eating grin on his face.

   “Your ship.  Why, is it fast?”

   “Fast?  You mean you’ve never heard of the Crusader?” 

She raised her eyebrows in recognition and appreciation as she took a shot of Duarga.  No, she hadn’t.

   “Now, about payment - “

   “ - I was wondering when you’d come around to that.”

   “I’ll just bet you were.”  She sidled the chair nearer to Jan.  “I can offer you a percentage of the deal.  That’s twelve hundred credits.”  She puffed out a breath.  “I need this job.  If I don’t pay off Dressel soon I’m dead.  He’s all over me at the moment - “

   “ - wise man - ” 

   “ - so I need to pay him off as soon as possible.” 

Jan nodded.  He’d been in his fair share of debts and tight scrapes, and he knew what it meant to have to placate and impress someone you despised.  Especially someone like Dressel.

   “Tell you what.  I’m having a really great patch at the moment. Cover my expenses only.” 

She smiled. No deal’s that good.

   “What’s the catch?” 

Lomona grinned again.

   “You let me take you out for a meal tonight.  There’s got to be somewhere decent to eat around here, and….” He smiled his big grin again and motioned down to his attire.  “I scrub up pretty well.” 

She nodded and laughed.

   “It’s a deal.  By the way, my name’s Saah Retgarr.  I run this bar, and I scrub up pretty well myself.”  She smiled a meaningful smile at the cocky young smuggler.  “Are you ready to go?” 

Jan Lomona nodded and raised a mischievous eyebrow.

   “Your ship or mine?”