The location finder beeped for attention.

When Anzai never reacted to the signal, Latti leaned over and waved his hand in front of his face. Anzai jumped and looked at Latti in confusion.

   “We’re here,” Latti said, “Any chance of slowin’ up before we plough into that thing?”

Anzai turned his head to follow Latti’s pointing finger, and immediately thumbed the brake control on the steering handle to slow their speed.

A pair of sail barges loomed out of the dim light. At least, it appeared they were separate vehicles, but as the speeder closed on the huge moving constructs it became apparent that the barges were joined in the middle by an extension that was as wide and as high as a single barge. If viewed from above, the floating craft would have resembled a giant ‘H’.

Light flashed and blinked all over the barge as the speeder approached from behind the vehicle, and as Anzai matched speeds and steered in for a landing, armed guards ran out to inspect the newcomers. The speeder landed on the top of the middle section, where several other speeders had been secured. As Anzai and Latti disembarked, a group of sentries of varying species approached. Some of them were levelling weapons.

Latti swallowed and looked at Anzai with worry on his face.

   “How long has it been since you last saw Dressel?”

He received no answer. Anzai was slowly reaching to his gun belt and pulling his Blaster out with his forefinger and thumb and offering it to the first guard, who snatched it away.

   “Who are you? Are you scheduled for a landing here?” The guard was a lithe human with several tattoos on her face. A single braid of long golden hair swept from an otherwise bald head. She glared at Anzai and pushed her gun in his chest.

Anzai raised his hands to indicate he was not here for violence.

   “I’m Anzai Karoo,” He explained. “What are the chances of getting to see Dressel?”

   The collection of sentries laughed with a combination of hoots and howls.

   “Nobody sees Dressel... unless he wants ‘em dead!” The female sentry looked back at her comrades and laughed. She knocked the safety off the Blaster. Anzai tensed.

   “Ladle!” Someone bellowed. The laughing ceased immediately and most heads turned to observe a figure striding from the wide blast doors leading into the left barge. The strides were long and purposeful, and the more timid creatures bowed and whimpered in the presence of the newcomer. The woman grimaced but kept the Blaster at Anzai’s chest.

   “I’m beginning to wonder whether making you security overseer was a good idea,” the figure said, drawing alongside her and pulling the gun down. He was tall, well over two metres, and his dark robes ruffled slightly in the light wind from the slow forward movement of the barges. His hair was thick, and his neatly trimmed beard gave him a roguish appearance. He looked at Anzai intently.

   “I know the name Anzai Karoo,” The man said. “Dressel talks of you sometimes. I am Tecor Heloosh, operation supervisor to Dressel.”

   “His right hand man?”

Tecor smiled.

   “Exactly. You must excuse the brashness of our security, but since the Empire garrisoned Cawbate, everyone has been slightly tense.”

   “That’s understandable.”

   “You wish to see Dressel?”

Some of the guards had drifted away, and the woman named Ladle gave some inaudible orders to those nearest to her, glancing at Anzai occasionally.

   “Yeah, Its important,” Anzai said. “He is available, isn’t he?”

   “Yes, he is. But his mood may not be too likeable if we have to wake him...”

   “This can’t wait.”

The two men locked eyes, and Anzai was suddenly struck with a desire to tell Tecor everything. As quickly as the feeling came it went, and Anzai began to understand why Dressel had chosen this compelling man to help run his organisation.

   “Your friend stays out here with your weapons,” Tecor said, shifting his gaze to Ladle and nodding his head. “If we get the slightest indication you are here for things other than a meeting you will both be vaporised instantly. Do you understand?”

Anzai had no doubt that Tecor meant every word.

   “I understand clearly.”

He took his weapon from Ladle and tossed it to Latti. He then unsheathed a secreted knife from his right boot and gave that to him also. Latti looked at him with worry on his face, but Anzai smiled confidently.

   “Its fine, Latti. Just sit tight and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Latti only nodded and shifted into the driver's seat.

Tecor took the lead, with Anzai following behind and Ladle trailing him. They entered the left barge and walked down well kept corridors to a large pair of doors that were ornately laser-etched with shapes of plants and animals Anzai did not  recognise. He knew of Dressel’s fondness for antiquities and rare items.

The doors swung open inwards with a swoosh, and the room that Anzai looked into must have easily taken up a third of the barge’s interior. It was high and wide, with floor to ceiling plas-glass windows on either side, letting the double moonlight stream in to illuminate numerous transparent cases that hovered off the floor. The cases contained items of obvious value, and many of them Anzai recognised, but most were beyond his ability to comprehend. Objects of strange and twisting shapes adorned some of the cases, their function unknown.

Tecor motioned for Anzai to enter with a sweep of his arm, and dismissed Ladle. He himself stayed outside the room, and when Anzai had entered the doors swung shut silently. The only noises were the hums of the barge reactor and the repulsor units on the floating cases.

Anzai marvelled at the contents of the room. The far wall was adorned with Calamari hangings, murals from Alderaan and several selected holo pictures from the far reaches of the galaxy. The cases contained cups, bowls, skulls, clothes... a thousand different relics from a thousand different worlds.

A long silver item caught Anzai’s attention. He walked slowly to the nearest case, his footsteps echoing in the large area, and peered in. The tube resembled the barrel of a weapon, but it was unadorned with any obvious part to connect it to the rest of a gun. It was unmarked and unlabeled.

   “Part of a B-nine Janos jewel rifle.”

Anzai swung around, startled by the sudden presence of another when he thought he was alone in the room.

Dressel walked toward him with a smile on his face. Anzai could not tell if the smile was for him or in reference to the age-old item he was talking about.

   “Only three in the galaxy,” Anzai said, beating Dressel to an explanation of exactly what the rifle was. “One is in the Zelon System and the other is back in the hands of the people of Janos. Where’s the rest of this one?”

The long flowing overcoat Dressel wore flowed to the floor, the dark blue colours enhanced by the moonlight. He approached Anzai and stood next to him, looking at the barrel.

   “It took me three months to secure this barrel. Apparently, someone found the rifle and, not knowing what it was, sold it for scrap. The barrel alone cost me one hundred and twenty thousand credits.” He ran his hand over his thick silver hair, which flowed in curls around his shoulders.

Anzai looked at him. The years had not been kind, and now Dressel’s face was pockmarked and lined, with a long scar running from his ear to his jaw standing out prominently. Dressel looked up at him, his face expressionless.

   “Its amazing what people do when they are ignorant.”

Anzai looked back coolly, knowing the remark was aimed at him and his unwillingness to become involved with Dressel and Glann’s ideals on life. Dressel had always considered Anzai a loser for not joining them in their big business ventures after the betrayal of the Jedi family. When they ran together, it was always Anzai who had mediated between disputes. He wondered whether his absence had resulted in the falling out of the two crime-lords.

He looked back at the barrel.

   “I suppose it’s excusable if someone doesn’t know any better.”

Dressel had already started walking to another display cabinet, where a long shaft of a dark brown material was hanging in the zero gravity of the case. It was as tall as Anzai, with a sharp silver tip and strange decorative markings around the top. Anzai followed, allowing Dressel to talk about his collection, knowing that this was his passion and wanting to keep him relaxed.

   “A Ferrerean soul spear. This is my newest acquisition. It cost me nearly a quarter of a million. Did you know the Ferrereans believe that when an enemy is killed by one of these, it takes not only their lives but their very essence?”

Anzai smirked.

   “I also know what they would do to you if they found out you had it.”

Dressel looked at Anzai and laughed loudly, his rich bass voice bouncing from wall to wall.

   “My dear Anzai, you always were the pessimistic one. I think it’s worth the money... and the risk.”

Anzai bit back a remark and decided to get down to business. “Dressel, I need...”

He was blatantly ignored as Dressel walked to another cabinet and started to explain what the strangely glowing object inside was.

   “This is a Chortese prophecy statue. If you look at it hard enough and long enough, it tells you the future.”

Anzai looked at the statue in exasperation, annoyed at being cut off. The way the colours swirled as the dim light struck the object made Anzai wonder if he wouldn’t vomit before making a prediction.

   “Look, Dressel, this is important...”

   “You want to know who put the bounty on your head.”

Shocked wasn’t the word to describe Anzai’s reaction, and he looked into Dressel’s face dumbfounded.

   “How did...?”

   “Your name and face is plastered all over this system, and others besides. It seems you’ve got yourself into a little trouble.”

   “Who placed the price? I want...”

   “Anzai... same old Anzai. You don’t come to see me in damn knows how many years and now you turn up on my barge wanting? Why me? Why don’t you go crawling to Glann?”

He could feel his temper rising, but Anzai breathed deeply and answered calmly.

   “Because I never found out about the bounty until today. Gern Omik...”

   “Gern’s Gunnas?” Anzai was now starting to lose patience with the way Dressel continued to interrupt him. “Did he go after the bounty? I heard the payers were hiring, but I really never thought they would use someone so incompetent.”

Anzai knew that Dressel was drawing out the conversation, making him sweat. This was his way. He did it for the thrill of knowing he was making someone nervous. Nothing less.

The conversation stopped. Anzai stood waiting for the information he required whilst Dressel stared at the pulsating statue. A long minute passed, and Anzai noticed a strange glazed look in Dressel’s eyes. He turned his gaze from the object, rubbing them fiercely.

   “I don’t know what you were thinking of, getting involved with the damned Rebellion.”

Anzai reeled back a step, wondering if the statue had given Dressel paranormal insight.

   “It is quite plainly plastered over the  Imperial bounty warrant pads. ‘Anzai Karoo. Known Rebel collaborator. Wanted alive.’ Did you know the reward went up to one hundred and twenty thousand after you fried Gern’s boys? I think the Empire want you really badly.”

Anzai could feel the blood pumping in his ears. A pain had started behind his eyes, and he suddenly forgot how his legs worked. He recovered his composure quickly, leaning against the hovering cabinet. Dressel guided him away from the case and sat him on a small chair. He clapped his hands twice, and a floating spherical droid swept out of the darkness.

   “Fetch Mister Karoo a strong drink. I trust you still drink vineau, Anzai?”

   “Yeah. Make it a double. No, triple.”

The droid responded with a beep.

Dressel looked down on Anzai from where he stood, shaking his head in disappointment. He stutted loudly, causing Anzai to look up at him.

   “You’ve never had to deal with anything like this, have you, Anzai? Oh, you’ve run blockades and dodged security details, and blown up picket ships, but you’ve never been centre of attention, have you? One hundred and twenty thousand credits. That’ll bring hunters from as far as the Outer Rim.”

Anzai opened his mouth to tell him to shut up, but Dressel continued.

   “You have always been a small timer. Always taken what you needed and nothing more. You should have stuck with me, got into the big time. Now I’m centre of attention, but only I stand to profit from it. You should have joined me in this business venture when I offered you a place. Now you’ve got the fame and the importance... but that kind of inter-system publicity you don’t want. All this for having an attack of morality every time you do a deal. You should have become a Free-trader in the core, and grown old gracefully and died in an old spacers home. You’re not cut out for this business. See where it’s got you? You decided to start the easy life. You decided to do something humane and help out the Rebellion, of all organisations! And now, its going to get you killed. I always knew you’d end up making a bad decision. Shame.”

The shakes had worn off, and Anzai accepted the beaker of alcohol pressed into his hand by the droid. He took a long swallow, letting the drink burn his throat and clear his head, and he just stared at floor.

Maybe Dressel is right. I got so used to the easy life, I never thought for an instant what the consequences would be. I’ve got myself into a right jam. I’m involved in the underworld and I got too soft for it. I should never have relaxed, let my guard fall. Do that and you start to make bad decisions, which generates bad business. I got careless. I got used to the easy jobs the Rebellion gave me and I got careless. I should have known. Should have seen it coming.

What does it matter, anyhow? I would have made a mistake sooner or later. And these ‘attacks of morality’. Its what separates me from the scum. I’ve got no glowing record but I’m not a murderer and I don’t involve innocents. I shoot when necessary and not for fun. Yeah, I probably get a certain ‘kick’ out of my job, but I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t enjoy it just a little.

Well from now on I’m gonna be on my guard. I can’t let myself make the same mistake again.

The rest of the vineau slipped down Anzai’s throat and he stood up.

   “Well, thank you for your hospitality, Dressel.”

The crime-lord looked shocked.

   “You’ve got your information and that’s it? You’re just leaving? I thought you’d come to talk about old times, a social call. I would never have agreed to see you if I knew you were going to blast off so quickly.”

Anzai smiled, knowing that Dressel did not get many friendly visits and glad he had been able to upset him in some way. Still, there was something he did want to know.

   “What did you and Glann fall out about?”

Silence swept through the room. Dressel stared at Anzai with hate-filled eyes, his teeth clenched and his hands balled into fists. His words came slowly and deliberately. “I hate that man. That’s all you need to know. One day I’ll bring him down, mount his head on the front of my speeder, and everyone will know it was me who did it.”

   “Why so much hate, Dressel? Why?”

Dressel turned away from him, and began to walk back into the shadows. The meeting was at an end.

Anzai felt it hard to remember the comradeship he had once felt towards this man. Those days seemed to be nothing but a hazy memory.

The door to the antiques room swung open, and Tecor walked in. Dressel was seated by the case containing the Ferrerean soul spear, gazing at it in intense thought.

   “Has he gone?” He asked.

   “He has. He and his companion Latti Tellex have headed in the direction of Arach Raynor’s base. From the hazy report I got from Omik, that was where he found him originally.”

Dressel slammed his fist against the thick plas-glass cabinet.

   “Damn that imbecile! If Omik and his pathetic team had done the job right none of this would have happened. It’s my own fault for employing someone who’s obviously mad and hates Anzai almost as much as I do.”

   “If it hadn’t been for Omik's friend Obruk, we would never have had first chance at the bounty. Anyway, I have put a bounty on Omik's head as you requested. Unfortunately our finances will only allow one for a meagre ten thousand credits.”

Dressel stood, jamming his hands into his pockets, staring in anger at the windows. “We need the bounty money for Anzai. I have had quite enough of dealing through outside persons. We’ll have to deal with the Empire direct.”

Credits thought Tecor. You damn fool, Dressel! If you had watched your cash flow and stopped spending all that profit on your expensive little show-toys, you wouldn’t be in such financial trouble! What am I doing with you, anyway? You employ idiots and time wasters. You’ve lost more money than you’ve made. Well, it's about time I put Plan Two into action, and get out of this hole you’ve dug. I know people who would put Karoo to much more use than you ever would.

   “Tecor,” Dressel said for the third time. Heloosh suddenly realised he was being addressed and quickly paid attention.

   “I’m sorry, sir, I was just thinking how to word my message to Commander Terrov.”

   “Just give him Anzai’s heading and make sure he makes payment. As long as I don’t have the Empire crawling over my barge, I’m not bothered what you say.”

I’ll clean your boots and make your bed for you, too, shall I?

   “Very well. Anything else?”

Dressel waved his hand in absent-minded dismissal, and Tecor exited the room.

The night wore on. Dressel walked to the window and stared out across the plains as they slowly drifted by. In the distance he could see the sparkling lights of a major settlement, and he focused on the illuminations as he thought.

Anzai. What a waste. So little vision. So little ambition. If you had set your heart on it and come with Glann and me we could have toppled the greatest gangs and ruled the underworld. You had to run out on me, didn’t you? Leave me when I needed help the most. Well, now your going to find out how it feels to be betrayed. Not only are you going to make me the credits I need to get myself back on my feet, I’m going to have the pleasure knowing you died at the hands of the people you despise.

All that remains now is Glann. He was the last one to defy me. First Riger, then you, and now Glann.

Well, its about time I got some payback.

   “Stang, Latti! How in the freck did the Empire link me with the Rebellion!”

The speeder flew through the morning twilight, kicking up dirt as Latti poured on more power. He shook his head and breathed deeply. “I can’t figure it. If the Imps had someone on the inside, surely they would have dished the dirt on all of us freighter pilots. Why just you?”

   “Why just me, indeed. That’s the million credit question.”

   “Have you messed up in any way, talked to the wrong people, maybe?”

   “No way. Working for the Rebellion is more risky than smuggling Noscage spice, and I don’t tell anyone when I’m doing that! I just can’t understand it.”

   “You run Noscage spice?” Latti pretended to be shocked, and fell silent when Anzai failed to laugh at his joke.

   “Look,” Latti said. “I’ll pull into this settlement and we’ll get somethin’ to eat and drink. We’re not due back at Arach’s for another hour, and we’re only twenty minutes away. What do you say? You’ve been shot at, stabbed and nearly blown up, and all you’ve had for refreshment is a shot of vineau and a few snacks. Me, I’m famished.”

The lights of the small town illuminated the speeder with splashes of yellow and red as the vehicle stopped in a parking lot opposite a food-stop. The low domes of the buildings were dark and quiet, and only a few residents were stirring to start early morning chores. As Anzai and Latti entered the Stop-n-Chomp open all hours foodbar, they noticed several of them were casting uneasy glances in their direction. In fact, two of the patrons got up and left after some worried whisperings. As they approach the serving droid, the few remaining customers paid their bills and left without eating or with a takeaway.

That made Anzai uneasy.

The eatery was circular with a domed ceiling, the bar and kitchen situated in the centre of the building. It was brightly lit, and the smells of several dishes wafted out of the food preparation area and around the air-conditioned room.

   “Something’s not right,” Latti whispered as the last of the customers left through the sliding doors. Anzai, hearing his fears voiced, let his hand stray to his Blaster. Latti walked up to the droid and asked for two quick specials to go.

Anzai let his eyes wander, watching each window and observing that the hastily departed beings were shooting off in their own vehicles. He looked out of the back window of the building and froze.

The engine section and tailfin of an Imperial assault transport sat on the back lot of the restaurant, trying to hide itself from the view from the road. Anzai could still see gases escaping from pressure release valves, which told him it had touched down only in the last few minutes. No wonder the townspeople were so spooked.

He quickly crossed over to Latti.

   “Forget the food. Lets go.”

Latti was distressed.

   “But I just ordered two Mnu-Mnu steaks! Aren’t you hungry?”

   “Yes, but I also would like to avoid being picked up by the Empire.” He nodded in the direction of the parked starship.

Latti looked up and swallowed.

   “Oh, I see. Erm.. forget the steaks. Keep the creds.”

As the two smugglers began heading for the doors, they could see shadows moving past the windows of the building. Before they had a chance to break into a run and out of the exit, a group of white-armoured Imperial Stormtroopers had come through the other entrances and levelled their weapons. The leaders tinny voice was amplified by his helmet microphone.

   "Halt!  You're under arrest!”

The shouting trooper dived for cover as he was assaulted by a volley of Blaster shots from Anzai and Latti, which struck two of his compatriots behind him. Their bodies hit the floor in smoking heaps, causing the others to negotiate their forms whilst avoiding more shots.

Bright blue circles of energy buzzed past Anzai as the Stormtroopers returned fire, telling him they had set for stun. His Blaster, set to kill, reported twice and brought down another soldier. Latti shot another as they both dived behind the counter of the shop.

Stalemate. The smugglers had the better cover from the bar, and the Stormtroopers were cautious about approaching due to their accurate shooting.

Latti checked the charge on his Blaster as another blue energy beam slammed into the counter.

   “They found us pretty damned quickly! Who could have told them we were headin’ this way?”

Anzai just stared at him, his face ashen. He knew. After a few seconds of shock, Latti knew, too.

   “Dressel... that no-good downbeat swindlin’ double-crossin’ son of a...” To relieve his anger, Latti popped up and sprayed the Stormtroopers positions with Blaster bolts. Auto-service machines and tables were blown to pieces in the onslaught, but it only served to keep the Imperial’s heads down.

Anzai just placed his head in his hands as Latti took his frustration out on the troopers.

Is this what I was afraid of when I worked for you, Dressel? Is this you ‘dealing with me’? Is this what you did with Riger, betrayed him to the Empire? Or maybe you were braver with him and took him out face to face. This is really low. I come to you for help, hoping for a favour after all the years we spent together, and this is what I get. All I am to you is another way of making credits. I knew that you were a swindling bastard. I was shocked and disgusted before. Now I hate you.

He looked up, and saw a small creature cowering under the hygiene droid in the kitchens. The door into there was directly behind the bar, so it would be easy to crawl there and avoid the Stormtroopers fire.

   “Hey,” He called, keeping his voice low enough so that the Imperials couldn’t hear, “do you have a back way out of here?”

The terrified scaly alien pointed at an open door at the back of the kitchens, which opened to a staircase leading up. It’s wildly spinning multi-coloured eyes were wide in terror, and when a fresh barrage of stun fire came from the troopers, it screamed and rolled up into a spiky ball.

Anzai tossed a stack of credits to the serving droid and said.

   “Sorry for the damage.” He then starting crawling towards the kitchen, and when he was satisfied he was in decent cover, he stood and started running for the stairs.

   “Latti, let’s go!” He shouted, and he started taking the steps two at a time. Latti jumped towards the kitchen, his last few shots slamming into two rushing Stormtroopers, and he joined Anzai on the stairs.

The top of the stairs came out on the roof of the dome, which was flat, allowing enough space for a three-winged Skyhopper. It looked as though it had seen better days, with streaks of rust and dented panels covering it’s bodywork. Latti voiced his doubts about escaping in it.

   “That lump of rust will never outrun that transport,” He cried. “We need something with a little more kick!”

   “There is nothing else!” Anzai shouted at him. “Get it started!”

Anzai knew of Latti’s skill with ‘acquiring’ speeders, and so covered him as he broke into the skyhopper and tore out the ignition panel. He was still playing with the wires as the first Stormtrooper came into sight.

Anzai fired, destroying the top of the Imperial’s helmet and flinging him off the roof. His next two shots sent another trooper flying back down the stairs and left another lying face down.

The Skyhopper’s engines spluttered, and then roared into life. Latti whooped his delight and started the take-off cycle, shouting for Anzai to get in as he lifted off.

The dim morning was lit up as the Imperial assault transport opened fire with its heavy weapons. The top fin of the skyhopper was holed as a green bolt from the transport’s cannon slammed into it. Latti fought with the controls, and the speeder was thrown from the roof. He brought it under control before he hit the ground, swinging it up and away from the line of fire.

Without Anzai.

Latti looked around fearfully, and then saw Anzai still on the roof, the smoke from the heavy Blaster’s damage clearing. He was downing one Stormtrooper after another as they came up the stairs. As he watched, a blue stun beam caught Anzai in the hip, sending him down to the ground. As Latti swung in to save him, the transport opened up again, narrowly missing his wildly dodging skyhopper.

Anzai looked up in a half-stunned daze, and waved Latti off. If he tried to pick him up now, the transport would undoubtedly blow him from the sky. He watched through tearing eyes as the hopper hung there as if uncertain, and then dipped its nose and sped off into the distance.

The transport began to rise to give chase, but through the crackling sound of fire Anzai heard a Stormtroopers tinny voice.

   “Hold your position, transport. Let the other one go. We’ve got what we came for.”

Anzai’s vision was fading, and he looked up to see several Stormtroopers standing around him, their guns at the ready. He had time for one last thought before he fell unconscious.

Stang.