“I’m sure that expression on your face can be remedied with a quick Duarga or two, Anzai.”

A hand fell on his shoulder as Anzai headed down the corridor. The landing bay containing the Cannon Angel was only a little further, and he faced the owner of the voice with more than a small amount of irritation. His expression changed as he looked upon an alien a little smaller than himself, with large green eyes and braided locks of fur hanging from a rich round face. The pointed teeth of the wide mouth sparkled as a grin split the features.

   “Latti Tellex!” Anzai cried, gripping the wrist of his friend as Latti gripped his, “I thought you’d gone to Repusub!”

   “I don’t take that long to make simple runs to far-flung systems!” Latti cried with mock indignation, “Anyone who tells you any different is a liar!”

They laughed heartily, and Anzai’s concerns about lack of work flew from his head. Latti stepped back and regarded him from a distance.

   “So what’re you mopin’ around for? I’ve seen better lookin’ faces on dead mynocks.”

Anzai shrugged, not wanting to ruin the moment with tales of his run of bad luck.

   “Not a lot. I’ve just finished a job for Soli... “

   “Oh, runnin’ around for Snorknose Soli, are we?” Latti used the nickname many of the support staff of the station used for their General, “Can’t blame you for lookin’ grim.”

Anzai shrugged again and then noticed their chat was blocking the corridor somewhat.

   “C’mon,” He said. “My ships just in this bay and I’ve got a couple of bottles in the cooling locker.”

The two quick-stepped into the bay, avoided the dockworkers, and ascended the boarding ramp to the Angel. Anzai dropped his gunbelt on the lounge’s holographic gameboard and headed for a cabinet over the seats. N1K bleeped from the cockpit and rolled down.

   “Latti, you remember N1K, don’t you?”

The droid rolled over to Latti on its three stubby legs, whistling softly. Latti nodded.

   “Of course I do. Hey there, N1K, not found a decent master yet?”

N1K chirped twice, and Latti looked to Anzai for the translation.

   “He’s happy to see you again. N1K, fetch a couple of glasses, will you?”

The droid trundled of.

Latti dropped onto one of the lounge seats and sighed heavily.

   “You still look after your ship well. Any trouble with your jobs?”

Anzai passed a bottle to Latti, who took a swig of the sweet beverage as N1K rolled back with the glasses. He accepted with thanks and began pouring the red liquid into the bulb-shaped container.

   “No, not at all. No picket ships, no customs, no double-crosses. I miss the old days.”

Latti laughed.

   “You mean the days when every contact would blast you in the back for credits and every friend was a cloaked assailant? No way, old friend, give me straight up business any time. I’m not up for all this smugglin’ and runnin’ blockades.”

With his glass already drained, Anzai reached for another bottle. As he twisted the top open he said.

   “Maybe these easy jobs suit me better. I’m way past my retail expiry date... “

   “Oh, no,” Latti held up a hand, and then pointed a finger at Anzai, “Don’t give me any of that prattle about being too old for this job. You’ve wetnursed some of the best freighter captains in this sector, and I don’t think I know any pilot who doesn’t use tricks that ‘good old Anzai taught me’. You can still outshoot and outfly most of us...”

Now it was Anzai’s turn to interrupt.

   “I’m not talking about what I’m capable of! I know that I can still cut a loop in this bucket, and I know I can score a hit from twenty meters, but to be honest, I think these easier jobs have made me... well... lazy. I’m enjoying the easy life, get it?”

   “You’re not thinking of retirin’...”

   “I’m not sure.”

They went quiet. The atmosphere was suddenly strained, with Anzai not totally sure whether he hadn’t offended Latti in some way. Latti curled one of his facial braids around one finger and looked at Anzai.

   “Bumpin’ into you like this was not a total accident,” He admitted suddenly. Anzai was halfway through a mouthful of Duarga as he spoke, and he looked at Latti from around the rim. He lowered the glass and swallowed.

   “I never made it to Repusub. My ship was shot out from under me by pirates who had chosen to work that particular space lane at that particular time. I only just ejected in time, but the whole ship... just so much dust now.”

Anzai was amazed. Latti’s ship, the Cronta’s Lady, had been in his family for years, being passed down from father to son over the generations and only once leaving the family, being owned for a while by Hindley Galletti. Although the ship was antiquated, it had had continuous refits over the years to keep up with technological advances throughout the galaxy. Anzai could remember times when classic starship collectors had chased Latti through several star systems, trying to convince him to part with the ship for hundreds of thousands of credits, but Latti had been adamant, vowing to hold onto the craft for when he could pass it on to his children. Now the family heirloom was gone, destroyed by ignorant pirates whose least concern was the preservation of a piece of history.

   “The Lady...” Anzai whispered.

Latti just raised his container and said.

   “The Cronta’s Lady. May the pirate ship I rammed her into remember her name as it rots in space. I lost most of my controls in the first attack. They had towed a stray asteroid into the space lane with their tractor beams, which forced me out of hyperspace, and as I sat there tryin’ to reconfigure my nav computer, they jumped out from behind it and opened up. They were usin’ a converted barge, about a hundred meters long, and armed to the fullest. I returned fire, but my systems were shuttin’ down as the Lady leaked energy through a hull breach. There was no way I could fight them, and no way I was goin’ to let them tear her apart for scraps. So I set her on a collision course and ejected at the last minute. It was just blind luck a returnin’ Rebel transport from Repusub picked up my pod’s distress signal and brought me back here.  I was hopin’ I’d bump into someone, and it was you, thank mercy. I promised that after everythin’ else you’ve done for me, I’d be the one to help you out, but Anzai...”

   “There’s no need to explain yourself, Latti,” Anzai said in comforting tones, “I’m glad you thought it a lucky break finding me. I know what that ship meant to you... you have the same love for it your father did. I also know what it’s like to lose a ship, its very hard not to get attached to them. They are, after all, our lifeline. Look...” He stood up and took another two bottles from the cabinet, “...I’m at a loose end right now, and I don’t mind you running with me for while. In fact, I think it’s a good idea to get you up and running again as fast as possible. We’re not far from Cawbate, and I know a starship junker...”

   “Arach Raynor?” Latti smiled at Anzai and shook his head, “I don’t have many credits. How am I supposed to pay for a new ship? Anyway, I can’t get one as special as the Lady.”

   If there was one thing that annoyed Anzai it was defeatism. He glared at Latti.

   “If there is one thing Arach Raynor knows, its quality in a starship. You want to pass a ship onto your children, don’t you? You may have lost the Lady, but you can still continue the tradition.”

The Duarga had brought out the colour in the alien's cheeks, and he smiled warmly.

   “I’m really glad it was you I bumped into, Anzai,” He whispered.

The Citadel orbital processing station receded into the distance as the Cannon Angel sped away. Anzai was chuckling to himself as he disconnected the communicator from approach control, the savage comeback from the female operator still ringing in his ears.

N1K chirped, and Anzai said.

   “Yes, that’s right, Cawbate. Draw the co-ordinates from the nav computer, will you?”

The droid plugged an appendage into a port on the co-pilots console, and drew the information, passing it automatically to the hyperspace motivation processor. He beeped when the calculations were finished, and Anzai pulled a series of levers.

The Cannon Angel flared briefly from the engine section, and then streaked away into infinity.

Latti had flicked on the holographic gameboard, and he was sifting through a number of games, settling for one called Fleets where light images of huge capital starships fought it out over the circular board. Anzai came down from the cockpit, leaving N1K to check the flight control systems. He scrutinised the move Latti had just made as he sat down, selecting his own green coloured gamepiece and moving it using the control pad on his side of the board. His ship moved with a synthesised rumble.

   “You never answered my question, earlier,” Latti said as he mused over his next move, “How am I goin’ to pay for a new ship?”

The red ship he was controlling moved slightly, and opened fire on the nearest green ship. Small sounds emitted from the gameboard’s speakers, conveying the firing lasers and the subsequent explosions. The green ship changed colour to indicate the amount of damage it had taken. Anzai’s mouth twisted.

   “We’ll settle that with Arach when we get to Cawbate in about eight hours. He’ll sort you out a decent second-hander and charge you little. He owes me a favour.”

   “A favour?”

   “Some circuit connectors he sold me a while back were the wrong type. I flew for fifteen jobs before they burnt out. He owes me big time.”

The ship that Latti’s piece had assaulted returned fire with the help of a neighbouring hologram. The red ship expanded in a white light and disappeared. Latti frowned and quickly tapped a few keys, allowing his ships to move and fire back. Anzai’s damaged ship was destroyed also.

   “Somehow,” Latti said, waiting for Anzai to work out his next move, “I don’t think Arach will knock off a few thousand credits to return a favour. I’ll still need capital and extra money for modifications.”

The gameboard bleeped again, and Arach’s green ships surged forward, firing all the way. It was more than Latti could do to mobilise his own holograms in time, trying to stem the attack, but after a few rounds of combat the red ships were annihilated.

   “When you want something that bad,” Anzai said, leaning back on the couch with a smug grin, “You just risk the lot and go for it.”

With a faint ringing noise, the navigation computer informed Anzai that they had reached Cawbate. He took his seat in the cockpit and began the pre-dropout checks, running his fingers over the boards with familiarity.

   “Okay, N1K, power down the hyperdrive and fire up the sublight engines.”

Outside the viewport, the whirling tunnel of hyperspace evaporated to reveal a multitude of light streaks that stretched past the ship and then shrunk to stars. A brown-green planet flew towards them at an impossible speed, so fast it was as if they were going to strike it, but it slowed quickly to fill their view. Cawbate.

Whilst the hailing com beeped for attention, Anzai leaned over to a frequency scanner and entered a specific code. The large sensor dish on the side of the Cannon Angel began to rotate slowly as it scanned for a signal. Anzai answered the hail.

   “This is Cawbate orbital traffic administration. Welcome to Cawbate. We require identification of starship and occupants.”

With a press of a button, Anzai transmitted a pre-recorded answer, stating all the required information. After a few moments, the hailing com beeped again.

   “Everything seems to be in order, Mister Karoo. Enjoy your stay, and please refrain from landing in all zones coded ‘red’ on your sensors.”

The Cannon Angel banked to one side, and began her descent.

Following the signal picked up by the vessel’s sensor dish, Anzai steered the Angel down into the upper atmosphere. After a few seconds they were flying through cloud, and not long after that they had punched out over vast lands of rolling hills. He allowed the ship to drop slowly as he headed to Arach’s shipyard, using the signal as a guide.

It took only a few minutes to come upon the scrap merchant's base. At first they saw nothing, but after a few moments they could see rising towers and misshapen shadows on the ground. As they came closer they saw that the towers were communication arrays and watchtowers and the shadows were starships in various states of disrepair. Anzai brought the Angel in for a soft landing on the edge of what passed for a parking area. The atmospheric readouts indicated good, clean air with a tolerable heat level, and Anzai was pleased with the change from either an inhospitable, weather beaten  planet or recycled oxygen on a starship.

As he and Latti descended the boarding ramp, two figures approached. One was a male dwarf, with wild red hair and a muscular build. A strange viewing contraption was resting on his brow above his eyes. He took off thick gloves as he approached. The other was a Wookie, with a shock of silver hair travelling from the crown to the waist around dappled grey fur. It carried a large rifle.

Anzai fingered his Blaster, and he saw Latti shifting his coat so that he had easy access to his. The Wookie obviously saw these small movements and growled something to his short companion.

   “The Wook’s makin’ the man wary, tellin’ him it seems we’re lookin’ for a fight,” Latti translated for the benefit of Anzai whose Wookese was very limited. Anzai nodded confirmation and crossed his arms.

The human spoke.

   “If you’re here from Dressel, you can just fly back to him and tell him his converters aren’t ready. Come back tomorrow.”

Anzai noticed that the man had his hand on a large hydrospanner that hung from his belt. The two small groups stood facing each other over a few meters, the Wookie’s finger tapping on the oversized trigger guard of the rifle.

   “I’m not here looking for any converters,” Said Anzai, “I’m looking for Arach. Is he about?”

The Wookie looked down at his companion, who nodded whilst still looking at Anzai and Latti.

   “RRUARGHUUUARGH!”

The Wookie’s roar echoed around the makeshift base, causing a few heads to appear from the tops of starships or from around doors. After a few seconds, a tall longhaired man started approaching the Angel from a small building. As he drew closer, Anzai saw the hair was matted with oil and grime, and the face wore a rough shadow.

   “Well, Anzai Karoo.” The man said, walking past the startled faces of the Wookie and the dwarf. “Here to collect already?” He extended a clean hand.

Anzai gripped it in a hard shake.

   “As a matter of fact, yes. You said you’d drop me a favour anytime, and that time is now.” He turned to Latti, “Do you know...?”

   “Yes, Latti Tellex. Good to see you again. How’s the Lady?”

   “Well actually, that’s what we’re here about,” Latti replied grimly, and then he suddenly changed the subject, “Your boys seem a bit jumpy, you got problems?”

Arach watched his men walk ahead, casting glances over their shoulders.

   “Oh, things could be worse. I’ve got the local crime boss from the Cawbate capital on my back for replacement parts for a couple of new ships he’s bought. That, and I’m having supply problems and people not paying up on time for my work... actually, things couldn’t be much worse.”

They had walked under the hull of an old corellian freighter, which looked as though it had seen better days. The heat had caused Anzai and Latti to undo their collars. Anzai looked around the compound, and his eyes fell on a ship he thought he recognised, with scarred bodywork and an ugly flat nose. He was distracted by Arach groaning,

   “You lost the Lady?”

Anzai faced them to get back into the conversation.

   “Yeah,” Latti replied, “damn pirates. She took them with her, which is some small consolation, but I’m here because I need another ship, and I’m a bit short on...”

Arach held up his hands and grimaced.

   “Whoa. Hold on. You know what problems I’m having, and yes, I have a spare ship but I’m tearing it apart for spares. The only other craft I have is a hire vessel, and considering what you need a ship for, she won’t do.”

A brief wind teased Latti’s facial braids and he drew a long, deep breath.

   “I wasn’t expectin’ favours straight away, Arach. And if you want help, then I don’t mind hangin’ around and workin’ for you. I think I’ve imposed on Anzai enough.”

   “Don’t be stupid,” Anzai corrected, “you can run with me any time.”

   “Actually,” Arach interrupted, “I may have a job for you, Latti. Tunille Fulle’s here, and he’s looking for a co-pilot. He was about to hop systems and do a job for me, but if you want a cut of his pay, and a little more besides...”

Latti’s face brightened up at the mention of Tunille Fulle, the sharpshooter from Entall. Entallian’s were well known for their keen eyesight, and so made the best snipers. Their T-shaped heads and thick, leathery hides stood them in good stead, and made them hardy creatures and hardier friends. Although Latti had only met Tunille twice, and even then only briefly, he considered him a well-spoken and friendly being.

   “Well, that’s that sorted. Now Arach...” Anzai raised an eyebrow.

With knowledge of what Anzai was about to say, Arach pointed over to a group of storage bins.

   “You are one of the few people I’ve made allowances for on your parts. You’ll find your circuit connectors in bin three. You’ll have to fit them yourself, though. I can’t spare the people.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Anzai started to walk over to the bins, Latti accompanied him.

   “Thanks, Anzai,” He said, “I would’ve been hangin’ around on the Citadel for ages if it hadn’t been for you.”

Anzai waved him silent.

   “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the years I’ve been running around the galaxy its this; you can’t go it alone. You’ll always need help, even if it’s just a couple of friends on a backwater Womp-hole. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.

   “But if you want to do me a favour, you can help me fit these damn things.” Anzai reached into the storage bin and pulled out his connectors.

   Latti grimaced.

 The only way to fit a circuit connector to improve the power flow from the main energy core to the drive system on a Desando Dynamics DD-472 stock light freighter is to remove the lower rear hull plating between the excess gas exhaust manifold and the back left landing strut casing. When the plating has been removed, disconnect the wiring conduit from nodule C and lower carefully so as not to damage any of the internal processing systems. Then, using a hydrospanner with a two-centimetre attachment, undo the mooring bolts with the spanner set to half power. Inside the mooring case there should be four connection points, coloured green, blue, red and white. If the circuit connector you are using is a class IV, then all the connections should be welded to the circuit. If it is a class V, then all connectors except the white connector should be welded to the circuit. Class V circuits are fitted with their own earthing. For the best results, use a plasma-based micro welder for the job. When the circuit is in place, allow to cool for fifteen minutes and then test. If all the test results are green, re-attach the wiring conduit and hull plating. The circuit connectors should now work within specified parameters.

At least, that’s what it says in the manual.

It took Anzai and Latti just over two hours to remove the hull plating, which did not seem to want to come off. After much hitting with a power-wrench and prising with a torque driver, the casing finally came free to reveal a wire conduit that did not match the picture shown on the screen of the repair manual installed in one of Anzai’s datapads. It took a lot of guesswork and a few crossed fingers to figure out where to disconnect the conduit, and when they had finally reached the circuit casing, they found that Anzai didn’t have a two centimetre connection for his hydrospanner.

The casing received a few dents from Anzai’s frustration.

It took a further seven hours to weld the connectors up, and then another three hours trying to remember how the conduit was originally connected. As the sky began to darken, Anzai was stood under the Cannon Angel, plasma welding the hull plate back into place.

Latti had gone to find something to drink. The hot day had taken it out of him, and during the last few hours of their work they had stripped down to shirts. The incredibly bright light and the terrific noise from the welder filled Anzai’s head. He had been sealing the hull for fifteen minutes now, and he had almost finished.

He felt a pressure in his back. It was as if someone had stuck a small piece of piping in his spine. He shouted.

   “Latti, stop messing around and get me the cooler!” But the pipe was pushed further. Annoyed, and not in the mood for practical jokes, Anzai raised the protective faceplate and turned around. The plasma torch spluttered and died.

The alien that pointed the Blaster in his face was a Quarren, with long supple fingers and a face that resembled a wet squid, with the tentacles facing downwards. The small white eyes glared at Anzai. His voice gurgled and popped as he motioned with his weapon for Anzai to climb down from the steps he was using to reach the underbelly of the Angel.

   “No funnee bishnish,” It said, “and shdrop the plashma torsh.”

Anzai complied, dropping first the torch and then the faceplate. As he stepped from the platform, he looked around.

Two Ubrikkian extra large cargo skiffs were parked in the compound. They were long and narrow, with sloped noses and wide-open top decks, almost like seaboats on repulsors. Standing on each skiff were a pilot, at the back of the vehicle, and another being operating a nose-mounted vehicle Blaster. All were ugly aliens dressed in mismatched clothing, but they all wore bright red cummerbunds.

Arach’s people were all knelt down in the open area of the compound with their hands behind their heads. Two of his technicians, and Anzai noticed that one of them was the redheaded dwarf he had first met, were lying dead on the ground with large charred holes in them. Surrounding the kneeling captives were more of the sash-wearing newcomers, of different species and toting a variety of weapons. Anzai found it difficult to comprehend how these killers had been capable of taking the base without him noticing, but the plasma welding had taken up both sight and hearing. He also realised that he had taken off his gunbelt.

Slowly, at the Quarren’s instruction, he placed his hands behind his head.

   “Shey, bosh!” The squid-head shouted. “Ish thish the one?”

Anzai followed the alien’s gaze, and watched as a tall humanoid stepped out from behind a group of captives and looked over. He paled.

Oh, freck, he thought, it’s Gern Omik.

Gern Omik. Bounty hunter and hired killer. It was also the individual whose name and ID Anzai had been using on all his jobs for the past two months.

   “Kre! Kopta vendusmatak!” Someone else shouted, and a Rodian walked down the ramp of the ugly nosed ship.

That’s it! Anzai suddenly remembered. It's that Rodian from my last job with the Twi’lek! That’s where I’ve seen that ship before. Damn my memory!

Gern was approaching, nodding at the Rodian. He was tall, maybe just over six feet, and dressed in a collection of styles and armour, almost as if every foot of material had been sewn on individually, giving a strange kind of patchwork effect. He wore a large Blaster at his belt, and a long sword hung from the back of his waist. He, too, wore a red sash. His had the features of a lizard, complete with a long fleshy flap that ran across his head and down his back. His tongue rolled around the inside of his mouth, and his thick heavy brows gave him a continuous squint. A strange furry creature was perched on his shoulder, which chattered annoyingly, it’s long tail wrapped around Gern’s neck.

Gern stood in front of Anzai, his eye slits narrowing.

   “Imagine my surprise,” He said, “when Obruk over there,” He pointed at the Rodian, “told me that the man I had been looking for was on this very planet. He was shocked when you did that little gun deal with his Twi’lek friend and used my name.”

Suddenly, Gern’s hand shot out and grabbed Anzai by the shirtfront, pulling him closer. “Three different beings have been after me!” He shouted. “They seem to think I sold them faulty merchandise! All the time it had been you using my name!”

Anzai gagged. The lizard’s breath stank of narcotic resin and alcohol. The whirling around his eye slits told Anzai that Gern was anything but sane of mind.

   “So what are you going to do?” Anzai asked, trying to keep the tremble from his voice.

   “What I should do is gut you slowly, and then burn your flesh off from the feet,” Gern’s face came within touching distance of Anzai’s nose, and his teeth ground and lumpy mucus dribbled from one nostril. Suddenly, his tone changed and he let go of Anzai, spreading his arms wide. “But I’m a charitable being. I’m going to let you live, but only because you’re worth seventy thousand to me and my boys.”

What the...? “Seventy? Whose put a bounty on me? You?”

   “I’d hardly want to collect on my own bounty!” Gern roared, and his fellow gunmen laughed along with him. “I’ll just say that the paying party want you real bad... intact, much to my disappointment.”

   “Who...?” Anzai had no time to finish his sentence. The Quarren pushed him savagely, and his legs buckled and he fell to the ground. Gern grabbed him and dragged him part of the way to the skiffs, and then deposited him by the body of the dwarf.

   “Oh, yes,” Gern said kneeling down and pulling Anzai’s head up by his hair, “Your payout is going to fund my new project; Gern’s Gunnas. I’m starting my own bounty hunting business.”

   “Nice uniform,” Anzai glanced at the simple red cummerbund. “Must’ve taken you ages to think that one up.”

   Gern snarled and struck Anzai full in the face, sending him reeling back onto the body of the dwarf.

   “Fire up the skiffs!” Gern shouted.

As Anzai struggled to get to his feet, he saw on the belt of the dwarf a small box with several buttons on it. The one button was labelled ‘COMPOUND SECURITY ALARM SYSTEM’. It had been the dwarf that had met him and Latti when they had disembarked the Angel. Anzai surmised that Arach had put him in charge of checking new arrivals, and so gave him the panic button in case there was any trouble. From past experiences with Arach, Anzai knew that the button would set off the whole warning system all over the base, which consisted of high-pitched sirens and flashing strobes. If he could hit the button and set off the alarm, he could make a break for it in the ensuing confusion.

No, he thought, that would leave Arach and the rest in danger. I can’t leave them to suffer my problems.

But then Gern shouted.

   “You know the drill, boys! No witnesses!” That made up Anzai’s mind for him.

He grabbed the box from the dwarf’s belt, and before the Quarren could warn Gern he had hit all the buttons.

At first there was a screaming wail that made everyone jump, which was quickly followed by several other klaxons that assaulted the eardrums. Some of the aliens with sensitive hearing dropped to the ground clutching their ears, both technicians and killers alike. The strobes started then, and with the darkening sky their effect was increased,  momentarily blinding the unfortunate individuals who looked at them.

The other buttons on the box activated several heavy load lifters, opened the automatic door to Arach’s private ship and sealed the tool rooms.

The Wookie was the first to take advantage of the mayhem. He leapt up with a roar, and grabbed the nearest gunman he could reach, an unfortunate Sullustan with wide dark eyes and pierced lip flaps. Grabbing him by the throat, the Wookie twisted once and broke his neck, and then swung the carcass round to bowl over the alien standing next to him.

That was the cue for pandemonium.

Blaster shots screamed across the compound as the engineers scattered in all directions. Blows were exchanged, and weapons were commandeered and reclaimed from the killers. After the few initial seconds of shock, both parties started trading fire that sent showers of sparks in all directions.

Anzai heard the shocked cry from the Quarren, and he spun around to deal with him. The Quarren was already lowering the Blaster to shoot, but Anzai managed to grab the wrist of his gun hand and slam it on his knee. The alien cried out, dropping the weapon, and Anzai followed up by kicking him full in the stomach whilst still retaining a grip on his arm. There was a snap as the Quarren fell to the ground, and Anzai let go of the broken limb. He kicked the Quarren’s weapon away, for it’s design did not suit his human hand.

He spun round to face Gern, only to find he had already started running for the skiffs, shouting, “Kill them all! Kill them all!”

He gave chase, shouting for someone to stop Gern before he could escape.

A Blaster bolt erupted by his head as he ran under a power converter. He dived to the floor and saw two of Gern’s heavies running towards him, trying to stop Anzai from assaulting their boss.

   “Anzai!” Someone shouted to his left, and he spun to fend off an attack, but instead saw Arach with a heavy Blaster pistol in each hand.

   “Catch!” Raynor shouted, tossing one to him.

Anzai dived for the gun as the aliens fired, the bolts striking the generator again and searing his shirt. He caught the gun by the grip as he fell to the ground, and he rolled with the impact. He came out of the roll and snapped off two shots, hitting the first creature in the chest, and the second in the rough, ill-fitting helmet it was wearing. They both staggered back and fell to the ground.

Anzai found that he had started to shake, and he tried to discern where the feeling had come from. As quickly as he had noticed the sensation it was replaced by a surge of adrenaline that made him breathe deeply and his muscles tense up. His reflexes felt much sharper, and his senses were now adjusted to make split second decisions as the battle progressed. It had been a while since he had such a feeling. He hoped that his time away from the heat of conflict had not made him negligent.

The skiff Gern had boarded was starting to turn, the vehicle Blaster mounted on the front swivelled and fired a few shots before the craft sped away towards the distant mountains. Anzai cursed as the other skiff started to move.

   “Arach! We can’t let Gern get away! I need to know who put the bounty on me!”

The warbling sirens and flashing lights stopped, and the only sound was the odd Blaster shot as the remaining gangsters tried to escape. Some of Arach’s people were dead or wounded, and a lot of his equipment had been destroyed by stray Blaster fire. He was angry.

Arach scooped up a long barrelled rifle off a dead alien and shouted, “Tunille! The pilot of the nearest skiff!”

Tunille Fulle, the Entallian sniper, caught the rifle as Arach tossed it to him. He flicked a switch on the side of it and settled it into his shoulder. As he sighted the skiff pilot, he breathed rapidly, but as he lowered the rifle to a shooting position, he held his breath.

   “Anytime you’re ready, Tunille,” Arach said as the skiff moved off.

There was a single powerful shot, and the bright red bolt shot through the gap in the skiff’s deck railings and into the pilot. He made no sound as his back exploded.

The rifle was still smoking as Tunille dropped the weapon and exhaled. “What d’you reckon, Arach? Three hundred meters?”

   “More like two-fifty, show-off,” Arach smiled at his friend, and then turned to Anzai. “Your transport awaits, sir,” and he motioned to the skiff.

Anzai ran to the vehicle. “Latti!” He shouted. “C’mon! Pilot this thing for me, willya?”