Second Guess

2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks

Three years before Episode IV - A New Hope

There was an audible click as Jan Lomona stretched his arms out, fingers interlocked and palms outward. The towering smuggler grimaced at the sound himself and groaned softly. He then started to stretch his legs.

The Berone Sunrise sat outside his lodging’s window, long and sleek-nosed with a wide rear section that hid a powerful engine bay. A soft hissing came from exhaust vents as she exhaled excess gases, part of the automated power-down that kept her ticking over for instant use.

Jan sat up in his bed, the covers of which he had kicked over the floor in his restless sleep, and looked out the window, just to be sure his beloved ship was still there. It had been only recently he had outfitted her with new drive and weapons systems and his concern over theft had increased with the level of credits he had spent on the modifications.

Cantarr Bi Romou’s sun shone faintly blue in the morning sky. The shipyards were quiet but it was unsurprising. The recent evening had been a planet-wide festival and it was common for everyone to sleep in the next day, intoxicated or exhausted from the night’s celebration.

Jan Lomona was neither drunk nor tired. He was A-desandian, impervious to the effects of alcohol, and he had managed to get to bed early, even with the sounds of music and laughter carrying on for most of the night. The warm season and the noise combined had made it difficult to sleep but he had rested enough to be satisfied.

Feeling a lump next to him he looked over to the other side of the spacious bed but only saw pillows stacked. He smiled to himself, chiding his inner self at expecting to wake up with company. The three parties he had attended had not been that good.

Slowly he stood and crossed the small room to the washbowl, passing his hand over the waterspout and letting the fresh liquid splash over his hands. He wiped his face and thought about a shower.

The door chime rang.

Jan looked up, frowning. He had made sure he had rented an out-of-the-way room and not told anyone about his location. The last thing he had wanted was to be disturbed by drunken friends in the middle of the night. He ignored the summons.

He pulled on his overcoat and shook his legs to even out his trousers. A quick shower followed by a quick snack followed by dressing had refreshed him, but he still felt underdressed. He had been too tired to fetch his overnight bag from the ship.

The chime rang again, and this time Jan tutted loudly.

   “If you’re not a breakfast delivery or here to give me money then get lost,” he said loudly, adjusting one of his boots, feeling the footcover folding under the arch of his foot and getting irritated at the sensation.

   “Open the door, Jan, you idiot. It’s me,” came a heavy voice from the other side of the door.

He recognised the voice and smiled, but decided to carry on with the charade.

   “I don’t know any ‘me’. Get lost.”

   “It’s Durne.” The voice on the other side of the door was obviously getting exasperated and so Jan decided to drop the joke. He stepped over to the door and pressed the ‘open’ button.

There was a hum as the door slid sideways, presenting Jan with a sight he couldn’t help but bark a laugh at.

Durne stood, hands on either side of the doorframe, leaning forward slightly. His turned-up nose and long facial hair was turned from the brightening sun outside the window, his pointed ears twitching as he tried not to show how he felt. Red-rimmed eyes regarded Jan under heavy brows. They blinked slowly and regularly.

   “Oof,” Jan said, “what time did you get in?”

   “Get in?” Durne demanded. “I haven’t even been to bed, yet. I’ve just come over from Veddy’s place and he wants to know if you’re up for some Sabacc. Huh? Are you?”

Jan smiled and walked back over to the washbowl where a hot cup of Chav was steaming.

   “No, I think I’ll give it a miss.”

Durne stared at his friend as he walked back over to the bed, dropped to the sheets and started perusing a datapad detailing the new modifications. He screwed up his mouth in confusion.

   “No?” he said, stepping into the room. “What do you mean?”

   “No,” Jan said, looking up at his co-pilot. “Just no. I don’t feel like it.”

Durne dropped heavily into a chair by the door as it slid shut.

   “What the freck is up with you, Lomona? Everyone else all over the planet is celebrating Year’s Turn and you’re moping around like someone dropped Womp rat droppings in your drink. You even left before twenty bells last night. You missed the best part. I got a kiss off Levunia, you know, the dancer with the...”

   “Spare me,” Jan laughed, “and keep the details to yourself.” He dropped the laugh to a small smile and went back to the datapad, sipping the hot drink.

With a heavy sigh Durne leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He stared at Jan intently, trying to ascertain his mood.

   “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Jan looked over and shrugged.

   “Nothing.”

   “Don’t fly around the asteroid, Jan, tell me what’s wrong.”

   “Nothing,” Jan gave a little laugh and went back to his perusing.

Durne watched him and waited for a response. He knew from experience that Jan’s responses were slow but he would give in to his stare and divulge what he was thinking, which usually consisted of his job, ship or women.

He sat back, startled, as Jan suddenly swore loudly and threw the datapad at the wall. It connected with a bang, sending sparks from its inner workings showering down. It dropped into the half-full washbowl with a hiss.

   “This sector is frying my brain!” Jan shouted. Standing suddenly and turning to the window. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, rubbing his forehead with his forefinger and thumb, his eyes closed.

Slowly Durne stood, staying by the door and folding his arms.

   “What do you mean?”

Jan turned sharply.

   “Every planet I touch down on, someone recognises me and shouts ‘hey, Jan, fancy a drink?’ I get no peace no matter where I go. Glann’s constantly on my back to do runs and drops, Pocock is chasing me about to do jobs on a shoestring budget and Dressel wants me to work directly for him to jerk Glann off. Other gangleaders want me to run for them so that they can say ‘Lomona’s worked for me’ and every time I go out for a sociable evening with friends they either expect me to play frecking Sabacc and win or womanise every female present and then pick one to romance.”

Durne opened his mouth to say something but Jan continued.

   “I spend serious money on the Sunrise to make her the best she can be, but am I ever given the opportunity to show people what she can do? No! I get jobs with no risk! Everyone knows she can pull off speeds and moves engineers fantasise about but has anyone ever seen her do her stuff? No! She’s instantly recognisable and people say ‘oh, it’s the Berone Sunrise, she can do this, this, and this’. Oh yeah, Jan Lomona with the ship that has a reputation... and nothing else!”

   “What...?” Once again Durne was cut off.

   “People expect me to rip off who I work for, expect me to come out with the one liner that puts down the hard man, expect me to outshoot, out fly and outsmart every being that crosses me and come out on top. I’m sick of it! I’m living my life to other people’s ideas of who they think I am.”

He finally stopped. Durne said nothing, expecting to be interrupted again if he spoke. He just watched as Jan ranted and walked about the room.

From the next apartment came a faint voice.

   “Keep the noise down in there, willya?”

Jan turned to the wall where the request had come from and bawled, “Freck off!” There was no reply.

   “I don’t think that’s true, Jan. I think you’re just upset because you think people can predict what you’re going to do because that’s who you are.” Durne swallowed. He knew he should goad Jan into a heated debate because after a few minutes of shouting he would calm down. The sugar-based alcohol flowing through his system was also to blame for his bluntness. Durne always felt tact slip from his mind as he drank liqueur but he knew that Jan wouldn’t mind. The tall smuggler was used to listening to his co-pilot’s opinion.

But wasn’t this what Jan was talking about? Hadn’t Durne, with that very thought, just second-guessed his friend?

   “Oh, but it is true. I know I’m cocky, brash and sarcastic.  But am I like that all the time?  No. I’ve been stereotyped, Durne. And that gets on my nerves.”

Jan slumped to his bed, staring at the floor and shaking his head in consternation. Durne just watched, too drunk to be overly bothered about Jan’s apparent self-induced misery and too tired to continue with the conversation. He turned towards the door.

   “So you don’t want to play Sabacc, then?”

There was no answer. Durne shrugged and began to leave the room, sure that Jan would calm down and rejoin the party.

   “How did you find me?”

   “Huh?” Durne turned at Jan’s question.

   “How did you know I was here? I rented this room and never told anyone.”

Durne shrugged.

   “Your ship’s parked out there and you weren’t on board.  You don’t usually let her out of your sight. It was...” He caught himself, knowing that his next choice of words were definitely what Jan didn’t want to hear.

Jan finished the sentence for him.

   “Predictable?" With a loud laugh Jan walked up to Durne and clapped him on the shoulder. Durne took a half-step back, wondering whether Jan's sudden change of attitude was genuine or whether he was gearing up for something more.

   "Look, Durne, I'm sorry for losing my temper. Let's go to Veddy's place and shoot some Sabacc, huh?"

   "You don't have to come if you don't want to…"

The door slid open and Jan stepped out.

   "I'll be alright, Durne. It’s about time I did something different, get people's attention and make them think `Lomona really surprised me’."

Durne looked his friend up and down, regarding his yellow and purple overcoat and his shockingly clashed trousers and shirt, orange and bright blue with long black boots.

   "I should think nauseous would be a fairer reaction," he said.

With a small slap on the back of the head, Jan ushered Durne out of the room.

As the two friends walked from the lodging block, they were observed by two figures further down the street. Both were tall, heavy set and swathed in cloth that hid their features but unfortunately caused them to sweat profusely in the morning heat. They watched Jan and Durne as they exited the building and started heading down the street.

   "That's them," the one said, his accent and deep gurgling voice giving away his species.

The other spoke the same way. "I see them."

The two disguised Rodians set their Blasters to kill and started to move out of cover slowly.

   "Remember," the one said, "We got to get him alive. As he heads down the street, start shooting over his head. He'll dive for cover down that alley to his left. Vonta the Barabel's down there so as soon as he disappears down there we head over and watch as Vonta knocks him cold. The escape speeder is down the other end of the alley so we dive over and we're away. Got it?"

   "Got it. How can you be sure he'll run towards Vonta?"

The Rodian huffed a small laugh, which seemed to more of a rasping cough.

   "It's Jan Lomona. The first thing he'll think of when under fire is saving his own skin, and the alleyway is the closest cover. Now come on."

They both walked out into the street, raising Blaster rifle and aiming just over Jan Lomona's head. The first Rodian gave the word and they started firing.

Blaster bolts screamed over Jan's head and he reacted swiftly, the initial shock of a barrage of heavy energy bolts passing quickly. He hadn't even considered the possibility of an ambush here during Year's Turn, but then again not everyone was the celebrating type.

He saw an alleyway to his left but ignored it. He had no idea where it led and he didn't want to get cornered.

The first Rodian's eyes glinted with shock as Jan pulled his Blaster from its holster. He stood tall and solid in the middle of the street, his weapon swinging upwards in a blur. As the first Rodian started to aim his weapon more effectively, Jan snapped off a barrage of shots. The bolts slammed around the Rodians, tearing up concrete and ripping apart a speeder they were using as partial cover. He made sure every shot passed his ambushers. After all, he had no idea who they were and what they wanted and so therefore was loath to kill them.

The Rodians dived back into their hiding place. Shocked and amazed at Jan's defiant stance, they bundled themselves into the darkness as their surroundings exploded into shrapnel. When the assault was over they peeked out into the street but Jan was nowhere to be seen. He had obviously taken advantage of their retreat and hurried off down another street, not waiting for any constabulary to arrive to investigate the shooting.

They looked at each other in consternation.

   "Are you sure that was him?" the second Rodian said.

Vonta the Barabel looked at his wrist chronometer and then back up the alleyway. There was no sign of Lomona and no sign of his Rodian employers.

With a loud tut he slumped to the ground and continued waiting.

Histories - Jonathan Hicks' first Jan Lomona story, unusual after almost fifteen years of working with the character.  This story shows Lomona in a pensive mood, wondering about he ramifications of his reputation upon his lifestyle and business.

Cast of Characters

Jan Lomona

Durne Selka

Vonta