The Courtship of Katy Sunwalker

Or

‘How the Hell Did That Happen?’

The hot winds blew clouds of gritty dust down the narrow alley behind the star port. The brilliant rays of the twin suns, G1 and G2 pierced the momentary haze and made everything glow pale and bright in the waves of rising heat. With the heat comes the perspiration, and with that comes the smells. It may be a dry heat that rules Tatooine, Hind end of the Galaxy, but it has the same effect on life forms as anywhere else, and with water in short supply here, regular bathing isn’t the norm anyway.

It was one of those days where you wish you’d have stayed in space. It’s cooler. I don’t think even a Tatooine sandstorm could have sand blasted the stench clean around me.

If you wander the back alley’s of Mos Eisley, or any city on this planet, chances are you’d walk right past me and never know who or what I am. I’m that unassuming, big fellow, with the long brown hair, and unshaven face, standing near a closed door, reading a public access terminal.

It’s what you can’t see that can get you into trouble.

Beneath my light gray cloak hang the tools of my trade. An EE-3 compact carbine, DE-10 Pistol with attached scope, various edged weapons, a couple grenades, and my favorite toys, the ever effective razor net and tangle bomb canisters.

Oh, and that public access terminal I’m perusing? That’s actually where I get my job assignments.

Brayden Ayala, Bounty Hunter extraordinaire, at your service. You need someone found, fetched, or fragmented, I’m your man.

You won’t find me on any of the info nets. I have the benefit of being somewhat under the sensors as far as the information nets are concerned.

Anyway, today is a light day. Not much happening in town, and it was too early to break out the Xantha and try and earn some extra credits.

Oh, yeah, I’m an entertainer ‘officially’. Again, nothing too extravagant since I want to keep my day job, but it gets me everything I need.

Some of the bounty hunters prefer to let contacts do their leg work for them. They’ll bed or bribe anyone they can to get them on board.

Me? I’ve always been a ‘hands on’ kind of guy myself. Besides, why pay off a middleman when you can find out all you need on your own? When I earn credits, I want to hold on to them.

The public terminal is a simple, unassuming piece of beat to hell equipment. You step up, enter your I.D. number and make a request. The difference with this particular terminal is that it also has a secondary link to the BHN, (my name for it), or Bounty Hunters Network. Only trackers like me know where these unique terminals are, and the special code to access them.

Not much on the market today. It’s downright depressing when the Empire busts into a man’s business. Ever since that crackdown after they had that incident on Corescant, every major criminal in the galaxy is either in custody or dead.

Mostly dead.

Two more figures slide up next to me in front of the thick brown durasteel door and I hear the obligatory three bangs.

“What?” A soft feminine voice says to me. “Still can’t read basic?”

Cute, real cute. I look to my left, and down, and there she is, her slight build, child like features and brilliant green eyes.

“Hi there,” I looked at the second figure, a very sullen looking gorn wearing an old battered brown cloak. The thick heavy garment conceals the fact that his hands are manacled behind him.

“Who is it?” a gruff voice asks through the intercom next to the door.

Vale’ turns to the door and sighs. “Drop off for Begar.”

“Okay,” the voice answers and the door slides open.

“Be right back,” she says to me and she leads the sullen gorn into the doorway.

I always wondered what happened to the bastards that I brought through that door. Ah well, time for me to earn my pay.

I entered my code and watched as the stock analysis chart on the corner changed slightly. The names of the various commodities were now the names of potential contracts and the graph showed the potential pay out. In business terms, the market was in the midst of a downward trend. There was one high paying job. It was the same high pay contracts that I always skipped.

Any time the words ‘Potential Force Sensitive’ popped up on my screen, I bypassed it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll hunt anyone for money, if the reason is legit. Being born with a talent doesn’t make you a danger. It was one of those many new policies instituted by the new Emperor that I disagreed with. Genocide is not my scene, and that was what the wrinkled bastard was advocating.

The door slid open again and Vale’s emerged, sliding her credit chit into her sleeve.

“Can you retire now?” I asked sarcastically.

Her youthful features smirked at me.

“Droid Rustler,” she sighed. “Only three thousand.”

“Ugh,” I winced. “Hope all you used were blaster charges.”

She nodded.

Vale’ was about five feet in height, slender, with a slim athletic build. She had a youthful and happy demeanor when she wasn’t scaring the hell out of marks and dropping targets twice her size. She favored dark colored clothing on the job, and the opposite socially. Since today was a work day, she was in dark pants, shirt, vest, and loaded with her own variation of tools.

She shrugged and smiled, letting her personality back out now that her prisoner had been delivered.

I lifted an arm and she slid in beneath it, hugging me affectionately.

Most people see bounty hunters as heartless, cold, calculating bastards that care nothing for people, but that really isn’t the case at all. We are a community, just like any other, with friendships and acquaintances. Yes, there are the occasional dysfunctional elements, just like in any other society, but by and large we’re just like any other person trying to make a living in the galaxy.

I found Vale’ in the Dune Sea, about ten years ago, lost after a Tusken raid on her village. There had been ten or so kids that hid out during the raid and died sun burnt and mad a few days later. By the time I found her, she was damn near dead half buried in a dune.

I got her to a Medical Facility and paid the bill. After that, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of her. She just kept popping up. I finally took her in and taught her the trade. This being her first full year on her own, she seemed to be doing quite well.

I let my arm fall down around her small shoulder, feeling her head rest momentarily against my chest as she gave me a squeeze.

Then she looked at the screen.

“How bad is it?”

I scrolled the small list of potentials and shrugged. “The word ‘pathetic’ comes to mind.”

“Well,” Vale’s continued. “Begar asked me to remind you that your dues are late. He needs the five thousand by the end of the week or he’s gonna cut you loose.”

Then she looked up at me. “Can you handle it? I have some extra I’ve been saving. I can help out with it if you’re a little short?”

I selected a local mark and keyed in my acknowledgement.

“I can handle it,” I replied. I downloaded the information to my data pad and then stepped away from the terminal.

“Whatcha got?” she asked.

“Glitterstim pusher,” I replied, looking at the information. The image on the file was of a pale blue/green Rodian. “Mivof Mosol. Private contract from a despondent parent, looking to get even for the death of his kid. Update says the perp’s somewhere on Tatooine, so I won’t even have to leave the planet.”

“You hope,” Vale’ countered.

“Right.”

She stepped up and grabbed another mark. “Well, I’m off to Naboo. I tell you, sometimes I can’t stand this weather here.”

I frowned at that. “Vale’ you have a house on Tatooine. Hell, you were born here. You of all people should be used to this blast furnace?”

She slipped her data pad into her thigh pocket and flashed me that infectious grin.

“True,” she replied. “But that’s more of a reason for me to get away.”

She stepped up on her tip toes and gave me a friendly kiss on the cheek before sauntering off towards the star port entrance.

“Watch your ass, sweetheart!” I called after her.

She turned and grinned. “I thought you watched my ass?”

“All the time, but that’s because you made it a habit,” I laughed, waving her off. “Fly safe.”

She gave me a salute and turned, vanishing into the crowd on the main street.

I waited a discreet minute or two and then headed to the star port myself.

Most bounty hunters prefer to utilize larger ships for their jobs. Light transports and personal Yachts make up the bulk of the Bounty Hunter ships in the galaxy, I have an old Sorusub Yacht myself, but I prefer snub fighters. They’re small, quick, and much less expensive to maintain and dock. I break out the yacht when the contract states ‘alive’ and the mark needs to be dropped at a specific place. All others get handed over to local authorities.

So my primary mode of interplanetary transportation is my ever trusty T-65 X-Wing.

Besides, the cargo hold is just big enough to hold the tracker droids that are the bread and butter of my trade.

I popped the hatch on the hold and activated two of my trackers. The small spherical droids emerged from the hold to hover before me.

I quickly loaded a copy of the information from my data pad and the two droids floated away to search.

Now all that was left to do was to wait for a report, and Tatooine is a very large planet.

I grabbed my Xantha case from the hold and headed to the cantina.

The place was packed, as usual, with the wide variety of locals and non local life forms. Species from a hundred worlds all milling about and drinking.

Back in the alcove, Figgerin Dan and his boys played their usual set.

I found a small unused and uncleaned table near the back wall and moved through the crowd towards it.

Amidst the crowd, I spied two more familiar faces. Both women were Twileks, their long tentacles, called lekku, draped casually over their shoulders as they danced to the music.

While coloration of the Twilek race is wide and varied greatly, the first one, Aylah, was a bright, almost luminous pink. Her companion, on the other hand, named Seno’ra was more typical of Twileks, being a soft green.

They both saw me and waved.

“Hello ladies,” I nodded as I slid into the table near them. “Tormenting the minds of males again, I see?”

Both of the women wore the simple one piece dancers outfit, made from long strips of cloth that served the bare minimum requirements for modesty.

“Absolutely,” Seno’ra said with a sly smile.

“When you’ve got it, flaunt it,” Aylah added, grinning.

I slid my Xantha case beneath the table and signaled for a drink.

“Is there such a thing as over flaunting?” I asked with a grin.

“Not where we come from,” Seno’ra replied.

I received my drink and sat back to enjoy the two dancers, smiling.

The two Twileks continued their dance, their every gesture a seduction. After a few minutes I smiled wider.

“You two are the Dark Side of the Force.”

The hours ticked by, not that I minded. Figgerin Dan and his boys finished their set and took a break. I was well into my third drink at that point, wishing it was an intoxicant.

I checked my data pad. Still no updates.

The seeker droids had a limited power source. After eight hours they would be exhausted and simply self destruct. At two thousand a pop, that was an expense I wasn’t in the mood to pay.

“So,” Aylah asked, pulling me out of my introspection. “You going to play that thing, or what?”

I looked down at the case and smiled.

“Okay,” I nodded.

The Xantha was a simple stringed instrument, similar to ones I used to play as a child, with only a few technical differences.

I pulled it out of the case and set it on my lap, checking the six strings to be sure that they were still in tune.

The only thing I could think of at the time was a slow ballad, so, without preamble, I began playing.

It was a soft, deep, melodic and melancholy piece, which pretty much matched my mood.

Hey child,

Out on your own,

You never looked back,

Never went home

You never turned round,

Tell me the games that you played.

Night time,

Wander the streets

You never give ground,

Never retreat.

You’re always home bound,

Have all your dreams been betrayed?

Stay,

Here where dreams tend to stray,

Here your safe when the night,

Fades away.

When the night,

Fades away.

Hey there,

Life’s refugee,

You took the wrong road,

How does it feel?

To know all that you’ve found,

Out in the great white way.

Times change,

You never did,

Life came,

You overbid

Join us,

Vassals of Cu’Vassie

Stay, here where dreams tend to stray,

Here your safe when the night,

Fades away.

When the night,

Fades away.

I let the notes fade away and was suddenly aware of a silence surrounding me.

When I looked up, there were eyes staring at me, some in appreciation, others in awe.

A few people tossed some coins into my open case. I smiled and acknowledged their generosity, such as it was, and then found Aylah and Sen looking at me, smiling in amusement.

“What?” I asked with a laugh.

“Where do you come up with that stuff?” Aylah asked.

I merely shrugged.

“If you only knew,” I thought to myself.

My data pad bleeped. I looked at the small screen, the words ‘Target Located, Waypoint Generated’, Flashing in tiny blue letters.

Quickly, I returned my Xantha to its case and swallowed down the last of my drink.

“Sorry folks,” I said as I stood. “Duty calls.”

I strode quickly from the noisy establishment, back to the Star Port, and returned my unnecessary equipment to the cargo hold. Xantha, EE-3, and my Cryo-bombs.

I grabbed a few extra caps for my DE-10, a few Razor nets, and hooked them to my belt. Then a quick jog to the Ticket Terminal.

I checked the Waypoint against the map and was pleasantly surprised to find that the location of Mivof was relatively close. A small outpost community called Serenity Valley. I smiled at the name. Serene was the last word to associate with any part of this planet.

According to the schedule, a flight was leaving in just a couple of minutes. In twenty, I could be in close proximity of my quarry. I purchased the ticket and jogged towards the shuttle, plugging my ear piece into my ear and hitting the call button.

The leathery alien face of my handler appeared on the screen of my data pad.

“Hey, Basher,” his gravelly voice intoned. “You calling to pay me or what?”

“Calling on a mark,” I replied. “And the money’s coming.”

“So’s my funeral,” Begar replied gruffly. “And I’d like to one before the other if you know what I mean? Why should I help you out on this one?”

“Cause you get all but five hundred of the payout, that’s why,” I shot back. “And because I deliver, and you know it.”

He grunted. “Fine, whatcha got?”

“Mivof Mosol,” I said quietly as I stood in line to board the boxy old shuttle.

“Back to you in a minute,” Begar replied.

I gave my ticket to the collector and slid into one of the beaten, worn down Bantha hide seats, fastening my harness.

I was next to the hatch so I could be one of the first persons out of it when we set down.

The voice of the IPS 7 Pilot droid rang out through the tinny speakers.

“Thank you for flying with us today, prepare for lift off. Our flight time to Serenity Valley will be twenty minutes. Weather is clear with a temperature of one hundred twelve degrees, winds out of the south at ten miles an hour. Enjoy your flight.”

The engine whined and the ship lurched more than launched from the pad, lifting skyward and turning in the indicated direction.

I pried my fingers from the arm rest and pulled out my data pad, watching the progress of my droid. It had less than two hours of time before it would pop.

Five minutes before landing, the communicator bleeped in my ear.

“Basher, you there?” Begar grated in my ear.

“No, I left,” I replied quietly. “What have you got?”

“Okay, Mivof Mosol,” He said. “Busy little bug, he is. Looks like he’s got his fingers into several rackets in Borvo’s organization.”

“Borvo the Hutt?” I asked.

“Yup,” Begar went on. “Not sure if he’s affiliated with the slug, but he’s active. Primarily a Glit Stim pusher. The kind you want to keep away from educational centers, you know?”

“I hear you,” I nodded. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s someone profiting off of younglings.

“Word is he knows he’s got a mark, so the fact that he’s even in this system tells me he’s doing something big.”

“Think he’s receiving a shipment today?” I asked.

“Could be,” Begar replied. “If so, he might not be alone. Want some backup on this?”

“And how much would that add to my bill?” I replied. “I can handle it.”

Even as I said the words, I saw the coordinate readings changing rapidly.

“Hang on a second,” I continued to watch in horror as they range closed to zero and then began to climb again.

“Son of a,” I started. I had to fight an almost overwhelming urge to leap from the ship.

“What is it?” Begar asked.

“Bastard just passed right beneath me,” I growled. “Heading back towards Eisley.”

If I had just stayed put, it would have been what we in the trade called a quick fix. The mark would have come right to me.

“Can you have a speeder waiting for me at Serenity Valley?” I asked quickly.

“No problem.” Begar replied, losing some of his sarcasm. I think in some way, he enjoyed the chases as much as I did. “I’ll have a Swoop waiting outside the shuttle port, just jump and go.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey Basher,” he added quickly. “Remember, it’s a big deal for him to be here, you watch your back.”

I was out the hatch before the landing struts had fully compressed, running to the exit and finding the swoop speeder waiting for me just as he had promised. In a flash, I was on it and rocketing back the way I had come, towards Eisley.

A quick entry into the small computer on the Swoop and the central console came up, showing the range to target and a directional beacon.

I was closing on him pretty quick, which meant he was in a large vehicle, perhaps an old V35, which meant he might even be hauling the cargo.

I maxxed the anti grav field on the swoop, rising to its maximum altitude and gunned the throttle. Now the only thing I had to worry about colliding with would be a building, and in the vast expanse between Serenity and Eisley, there was little chance of that.

Now, if I had just remembered to put on a pair of damned goggles, I might actually enjoy the ride.

The grit pelted my skin and the stung my eyes, even as I kept my altitude high enough to avoid most of it. As I crested a rough ridge I spied the three vehicle trails far below. In the distance, I could also see the pale gleam of Eisley, nestled in a low valley.

I didn’t even let up on the power as I vaulted the edge of the sharp bluff and dropped like a stone towards the flat floor of the valley, a thousand feet below.

The anti grav field absorbed most of the impact, like a pillow, but the swoop still bounced against the rocky ground before rising again. I switched the power from anti grav to the drive thrusters and ripped her for all she was worth.

“Begar!” I called. “I got three vehicles coming into Eisley. I might need a few Bounty Checks in the near future.”

The old Gorn laughed in my ear. “That means more money for me.”

I was almost on them when they hit the town limits. Well, no chance of an open desert shoot out. I dropped the speed and followed behind them.

There were two of the newer XP-38 speeders, two person jobs with fully enclosed domes, and a large, gray V-35 multi passenger vehicle. They entered Eisley in typical parade formation, one vehicle in the front, and the other behind. They snaked their way past the shuttle port, past the first set of tenements, and down into the small section of storage warehouses near the outer edge of the town, closest to the star port.

As the vehicles slowed to a halt, I concealed myself and my vehicle around a nearby corner.

My droid had about ten minutes left before popping, so I decided to make the most of it.

I sent it aloft, near the roof of a nearby structure and zoomed in on the vehicles.

As I watched, two figures each emerged from the escort speeders. Two humans, a devaronian, with long spiral horns protruding from his forehead and evil features and lastly, a big bulky trandosian, all of them armed to the teeth.

Then I saw Mivof pull himself from the upper drive compartment of the V-35.

I had the seeker take stills of each face and sent them through to Begar.

“Okay boss,” I whispered. “Check them out.”

I dropped from the swoop and drew my DE-10, moving stealthily along the wall towards the entrance.

For those who want to know, the DE-10 is a personal favorite of both smugglers and Bounty Hunters because it is a low maintenance, large caliber pistol with a lot of stopping power.

Mine was a little better than most, however, because I knew a decent weapon smith who upgraded it for me. Six shot cap with an even higher caliber discharge, and a competition scope. If I had been someone of a smaller stature, it might have looked out of place, but since I was over two meters tall, it fit me nicely, and yes, I’m male. I like bug guns and this one was a personal favorite.

“Okay Basher,” Begar said quickly. “Nothing on the humans, but I got hits on the other two. The Dev is one Strackor Zelos, wanted in three systems for murder, his reptilian friend is one Xtrosh. Stim pusher and Slaver are his primary occupations, wanted in five systems for various crimes both corporate and private.”

“What’s the payout?” I asked.

“Strackor’s worth eight thousand, and Xtrosh is worth twelve,” Begar replied.

“Plus the five thousand on Mivof,” I reminded him,” which means you pay me twenty when I finish this out.”

“Brayden,” Begar said quickly. “These are some real bad guys. You might be in over your head on this. Let me get hold to a couple boys nearby and back you up. You’re outnumbered five to one.”

“No way,” I replied, feeling my adrenalin surge. “They’re boxed in with one exit.”

I watched as the two humans moved to guard positions at the entrance, about ten yards from my place of concealment.

“Call you in a few.” I disconnected the circuit and moved to a point behind some locked storage containers, waiting fro the two thugs to get into position.

It’s amazing how the body reacts to stress, especially the stress of combat. Maybe I’m an adrenaline junkie, I don’t know, but I really enjoy that rush just before the action starts. The world slows down, my vision gets sharper, hearing more acute. Everything snaps into focus.

I ordered my seeker to slip into the compound and underneath one of the XP-38’s. Then I entered its self destruct sequence.

I pulled one of my razor net grenades and armed it.

The two thugs were ten feet apart, on either side of the entrance. Since the diameter of my razor net was nearly twice that, well, you can imagine what I had in mind for those two lowlifes.

I stood up and tossed the canister. It landed between the two guards, who looked down in surprise. The grenade discharged and the energized razor wires coiled outward slicing through everything in its path, including the two morons looking at it.

I guess I’m just a little demented, but whenever I see one of those things work and hear the bastards start screaming, I really enjoy it. I also love the distracting effects the sounds of screaming bad guys have on the general area. Civilians dive for cover, and the bad guys come running towards me.

Most of the time.

Unfortunately, this particular trio of badduns were too smart for that. They each drew weapons and spread out, scanning the surroundings for me.

Fortunately for me, Mivof and his Trandosian business associate moved closer to my booby trapped speeder. I hit the switch on the data pad and watched as the seeker droid detonated, causing the XP-38 to erupt in a ball of brilliant orange fire and white hot shrapnel.

Okay, that boom was worth two thousand credits.

All that was left was the demonic looking devaronian, and I didn’t know where he went.

The razor net finished its cycle and dissolved, leaving the two thugs in a mass of their own blood and sliced internal organs.

I darted into the smoke filled compound and began moving around the wreckage of the blasted speeder, just to make sure the two others were toast. I found what was left of Mivof, lying in a heap against the wall.

Further along the wall, I could see the body of the Trando, lying face down, but more intact.

Then the big lizard moved!

He got to his knees and drew his own blaster.

“Don’t!” I shouted. Yeah, like the cold blooded bastard would listen. I fired three quick shots and saw two of them hit center mass. The impact caused the big alien to recoil, sending his first shot wide. I also saw the faint blue corona of energy where my shots had struck. The bastard had a personal shield generator and a good one too, if it could handle getting hit by my shots after absorbing the impact of an exploding speeder.

I dove behind a stack of crates near one corner of the yard just as I saw or felt another blaster bolt sizzle past me and explode in the ferrocrete wall.

Well, the good news was I now had a pretty good idea where Strackor was. The bad news was that they had me in a cross fire, pinned in a corner.

I risked a quick peek out from my cover and saw Strackor moving towards my hiding place. He fired a quick shot and ducked behind an outcropping of ferrocrete before I could fire back at him.

Another check and I could see Xtrosh coming from the other direction. I managed to squeeze off two more shots, making him also scramble for cover, and was rewarded by the sound of a hiss that may have been a reactor boiling over. His personal shield must have been about out of juice. I reached up over my cover and fired my last shot blindly towards Strackor and then popped the expended cap and loading a fresh one.

Okay, the ugly lizard to my left, about twenty yards away, and the sadistic demon on my right at about fifteen yards, both with large caliber blasters and the will to use them.

Tactics: You’re pinned down, outnumbered two to one, and unable to move. What do you do, besides offer up any last prayers to your specific deity?

Traditionally, splitting your firepower to hamper or incapacitate one side or the other to allow a chance to break away and run would be the rule, but my weapons didn’t have the re-fire rate to allow that.

I had to get one of them closer, and since Trandosians tend to get suicidally angry when wounded, the lizard was my best bet as a sucker.

I reached behind my back and yanked my last razor net grenade free, pulling the pin and holding the spoon in place.

Then I popped from hiding and fired one shot towards the Trando, and was rewarded with a hit to his upper chest and arm that caused him to recoil back with a second hiss of pain. I tossed the razor net in his direction and wheeled, pouring fire at the dev.

Strackor was cool under pressure, that’s for sure. Instead of panicking, (like I was almost doing), he raised his weapon and fired once.

The shot damn near took my head off, but my barrage had done its job. Strackor was held back and I heard the reassuring hum as the razor net deployed. Then I heard a long series of agonized hissing and raspy cries.

God, I love that sound, no matter what species makes it.

Another cap gone, reload, get ready for a stand off.

“You’re good human!” a voice shouted from across the yard. “It’s almost a shame that I must kill you!”

“I wasn’t planning on letting you do that today, Strack! Sorry!” I shouted back. Hell, he already knew where I was. “Give it up, and you might live through this!”

Yeah, like he’d go for that option.

I heard him chuckle. “Sorry, human, but I will not be taken alive! I know what awaits me if I surrender. Either I die here today, or I walk out of here and leave your rotting corpse!”

“Have it your way, then,” I replied. I rose from cover, my weapons cradled in both hands, panning across the wreckage strewn yard. Strackor was nowhere in sight. Instead of heading in the direction I knew he was hiding, (waiting to ambush me and cut me to ribbons), I slipped out towards the remains of Xtrosh, his blood was red, but paler than warm blooded life forms. His body was a mass of deep lacerations that still flowed.

“Bray!” Begar’s voice thundered in my ear suddenly. “What the hell did you do? You got a whole load of Imperials heading your way!” His voice faded out in a wall of static as the signal was suddenly jammed.

The next thing I knew, pain blasted through my body as I was launched from my feet and knocked down to the ground. My lower leg was on fire. I looked up underneath the two speeders and saw Strackor’s grinning face behind the sights of his blaster.

I fired in panic at him, riddling the ground before him with blaster fire as I scooted clear.

I found some cover behind a piece of speeder wreckage and popped my last six shot cap into my pistol. When this little dance was over, I was seriously considering getting something with a higher charge capacity or at the very least a decent back up blaster. At the moment, my favorite blaster was quickly falling out of favor.

“Nice shot, Strack!” I shouted defiantly.

“Yours were not!” he shouted back with a laugh. “I will find you and kill you now!”

Arrogant little slug.

“You’ll try!” I replied.

I struggled to my feet, trying to ignore the pain in my calf and the blood flowing from the nasty wound. I managed to get into a crouch, leaning heavily against the charred metal. Fast movement was definitely not in my cards at present.

“Hold it!” a tinny voice commanded suddenly, and I saw at least a dozen armor clad stormtroopers rushing into the yard.

Strackor calmly lowered his weapon and let it fall to the ground. Then I saw him point to my side of the yard.

“You may wish to be cautious,” I heard him say. “I believe he is armed.”

Six of the brutes began moving cautiously towards me.

“Over here!” I called to them. Instantly, six E-11 blasters were pointed at my hiding place.

“Easy, fellas! Easy!” I shouted quickly. I tossed my pistol out into the open and held my hands up so they could see them.

“Come on out, now!” one of them barked.

“Sure, just hold your fire, okay?” I hoisted myself up to my feet, hoping these boys weren’t trigger happy, and half hopped, half stumbled into view, leaning against the wall.

One of the stormies picked up my gun while two more grabbed me roughly by the arms and half dragged me back towards the entrance.

The next thing I know, they’re slapping binders on my wrists.

“Hey! What’s going on?” I protested.

They shoved me back to the ground, sending another wave of pain rocketing up my leg.

A gray uniformed Imperial Officer entered the courtyard and surveyed the damage. Then his steely eyes fell on me.

“What is he still doing here?” he asked the trooper closest to him.

“Bleeding, sir,” I replied before his subordinate could respond.

At that, he looked at me again angrily. “Get him out of here and get his wound treated. Then take him to the command post. I’ll deal with him when I get this mess sorted out.”

“Yes, sir.” The trooper replied.

“What?” I was surprised. “Why are you holding me? I was just doing my job! That man is wanted! I have a warrant for him!”

The Lieutenant gave one more nod and two sets of hands hauled me up and dragged me out to a waiting Imperial troop transport.

They took me to a nearby medical facility, but their idea of treating my injury was not what I would consider good treatment.

No tissue regenerator, no bacta, just a thick layer of iodinic solution soaked bandages and a five minute look over by the MNE-2E droid on duty, then it was back into the wagon and to the command office.

They took all my weapons and tracking gear and left me sitting in a holding cell for what seemed like a small eternity before they graciously brought me back up into the office and tossed me into another room.

Then the officer entered, followed by two stormtroopers. The armored lugs took up station on either side of the door while he simply stood across the table, looking at me.

I noted that the Ident tag on his rank insignia marked him as Lieutenant Iefof.

Now, I admit that I was not in the best of moods, but how would you feel if you had been shot, confined, and thrown around like a bantha doll for several hours with no explanation?

“Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” I demanded.

At that, Iefof smiled and leaned forward. “At present, I am trying to decide just what I should do with you.” He replied in that crisp, cocky Imperial accent.

He tossed a few of my things on the table. Then he raised my Identicard and studied it.

“Brayden Ayala,” he quoted. “Registered Entertainer, resident home world listed as Naboo.”

He looked up at me sharply. “You’re a long way from home, Master Ayala.”

“I travel a lot,” I replied.

“Yes,” Iefof nodded. “The intriguing thing is that I show no listing of you on any of our regular records. You were apprehended executing a bounty warrant, and yet, I do not have you registered with a Bounty Hunters Guild, or any guild that promotes such nefarious actions such as bounty hunting, if that is what you call your little display? According to this,” He tossed my identification on the table. “You are no more than a performer.”

“I like to keep a low profile,” I growled. This guy was really getting under my skin, which was what he wanted to do anyway.

“Well,” he smiled coldly. “You can’t get much lower than a shallow grave in the middle of the Dune Sea, can you?”

I think I smirked at him, or maybe it was just a total lack of concern that angered him, but after a couple of measuring moments, he stood up.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he demanded.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I tracked a known criminal and drug dealer to his den and took out three of his four accomplices. So do I see you about my pay or someone on my way out?”

“You’ve blown a two year investigation, void brain!” he shouted at me. “Mivof Mosol was an informant for the Empire, and the devaronian was his handler! We were this close,” he held his finger and thumb barely apart for reference. “This close to tying everything in Borvo the Hutts operation on Naboo, and you just killed the primary source of intelligence, and damn near took down an important Imperial Agent in the process!”

“Well, then maybe you should move a little faster when your informants have marks on their heads, Lieutenant!” I shot back. “And as far as your agent is concerned, once the hailstorm was over, he could have stopped, surrendered and I would have turned him over to you anyway! Instead, he starts shooting at me and trying to take me down!”

“That’s not the way he says it happened,” Iefof stated.

“Oh, of course not,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Which is why I sit here bleeding and horny is grabbing a caf somewhere, sucking on a carababba tabacc!”

The roles were starting to reverse, with me getting under the Lieutenant Iefof’s skin. All I needed him to do was succumb to the temptation and start bragging about something secret and I might find out a part of what was happening.

Instead, Iefof simply fixed his eyes on me for a moment or two more before he turned and strode out of the room.

“Keep this scum here while I decide what to do with him,” he ordered the guards.

Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

They kept me locked in that place for another four hours before they unceremoniously returned my belongings and all but threw me out the door.

The Tatooine night was thick about Eisley and the more dangerous percentage of the population was on the prowl.

I adjusted my equipment and checked my weapon. They hadn’t messed with it as far as I could tell, and they had even returned the one unused six shot cap with the empties.

I pulled out my data pad and checked my account. I was surprised to see that Begar had transferred the payout for the two thugs I had taken down. He hadn’t even deducted the five thousand that I owed him.

Maybe that was his way of apologizing for the plasma storm he had inadvertently dropped me in?

I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I wanted a drink, some proper medical attention, and my own bed.

I hobbled over to the medical facility and paid for the bacta treatment. A few hours later, I walked out of the med facility without so much as a limp, and only a mild throbbing in the regenerated flesh.

Next stop, Space Port and then a quick planet hop to my home on Lok.

I went to the space port and followed the dust filled corridor down to bay seventeen only to discover that my ship was gone!

“That’s why they held me for as long as they did,” I fumed. I was livid at the prospect of someone pinching my ship. It had taken five years of hard saving to be able to afford the blasted thing, and someone had just flown away with it. If they thought they were going to appropriate my property because their incompetence got an informant killed, they had another thing coming.

I stalked down to the station controller’s office and barged in without bothering to knock.

“The T-65 in bay seventeen!” I growled, holding the skinny controller against the wall. “Who took it and where did they fly to!”

“I don’t know!” The small man squeaked in fright. He was a short, skinny human with a balding head and pale eyes that seemed too large for his face. I shoved him into his chair.

“Find out!”

“Flight plans are confidential,” he protested.

“Junior,” I threatened. “That was my ship that flew out of here, now, you can either help me, or you can decorate the wall, your choice. Make it fast!”

The man spun around and began keying commands in his console.

“Um, plan filed at sixteen hundred hours, route to Lok Space station, no connections, no intermediate stops.”

I smiled in understanding. “Damn bastards!” I growled as I left.

That Iefof hadn’t had the authority to confiscate my property. Hell he hadn’t had the authority to hold me for as long as he did. They had been pushing their luck, and they knew it, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t make my life difficult.

The guild was required to pay out the bond on the two thugs I took down, to the sum of thirteen thousand. Now they were making me dip into it in order to minimize my profits on the deal. It was a low life thing to do, but it happened on occasion, when a member of my profession wound up stepping on someone’s toes.

A quick meal, a ticket purchase and a boring three hour flight later, I landed at the small, beaten building that served as Lok’s Spaceport. I was tired, cranky, and six thousand credits poorer.

First things first, make sure the blasted moron who hijacked my fighter didn’t mess with it. I found my ship easily. They had even parked it in my usual place, near the back of the hanger, clear of prying eyes.

A quick walk around showed no tampering, not even a tracking beacon stuck to the hull. The hold still had all of my Seekers and spare equipment.

“Making sure I don’t file a complaint against them,” I thought. “Something turns up missing and then its theft.”

Everything was where it should be. Nothing was missing, which was a shame, because after the treatment I had just endured I was feeling more than a little litigious.

I was still grumbling to myself when I emerged from the short shuttle trip into the cool evening air of Sparta, a smallish community in the northern wastes of Lok.

Lok was another planet filled with desolate beauty, and prized for its glacial and other organic resources. In all honesty, if there wasn’t anything like that to mine here, the planets would probably be deserted. It was covered in large, flat stony plains and numerous volcanic mountain ridges. There’s no photosynthesis on the planet either. The oxygen in the atmosphere is generated by the rocks themselves, which are incredibly porous and act as a natural carbon filtration system, constantly replenishing the air.

Yes, there are plants on Lok, mostly vegetation grown by the few farmers that exist there, or left over from settlers who attempted to raise gardens to feed themselves.

The worst part of the weather here, however, is the sulfur storms.

One of those kicks up and it’s like getting acid blown into your eyes and other mucus membranes, and if it gets combined with precipitation? Well, let’s just say that there aren’t a lot of custom painted vehicles on this planet and leave it at that.

Tonight, by contrast, was a good night. The stars were out, and wisps of purple clouds snaked slowly across the sky.

A short walk later and I was home, well, one of my homes. I had found the old house, abandoned Gods knew how long ago. It was a large spacious edifice, favored by rich moisture merchants back on Tatooine. Two stories high with a massive main room that I had painstakingly converted into a small cantina.

The door slid open before me as I reached for the pad to key in my lock code and music drifted down the long dust corridor from the main room.

I had never left my door unlocked before. In fact, I hadn’t yet had the capital or the time to open for business. It had been nearly four standard weeks since I had even set foot in the house. If someone had sliced my security code and taken over my place, there was going to be hell to pay on Lok tonight.

I checked my blaster and moved down the dust hall to the main door.

It slid open to reveal several people, patrons, sitting at the booths enjoying some food. A juke box sat center stage against the wall playing music.

Up along the narrow terrace, several more people sat in the smaller booths, enjoying drinks, and an attractive bartender stood behind my bar, serving drinks to several more people.

The bartender waved to me in greeting, as if she knew me. Not that I minded really, she was a young woman with shoulder length brown hair and soft delicate features. Her face seemed to shine with enthusiasm when she smiled, and her bright blue eyes were filled with mirth. She wore a simple tunic, pants and comfortable boots. Basic in design, but somehow, on her, she made the clothing seem richer, just with her presence.

“Hey Boss!” she called cheerfully. Then she paused and frowned, looking at the doorway leading to the back hall.

“I didn’t even see you go out!” she continued a moment later with that same infectious smile. “Need one?”

Well, I did need a drink.

“Yeah,” I replied, stepping up to give her my order. To my surprise, she spun and grabbed a bottle of Corellian Whiskey and poured me a tumbler, neat, just the way I preferred it, sliding it to my waiting hand.

“Thanks,” I started, reaching into my pocket for money, but she had already turned away.

I shrugged and leaned against the bar, surveying my place. Nothing was moved or out of place. The only addition was the juke box, bartender, and patrons.

The atmosphere wasn’t loud or rowdy. It was one of quiet relaxation. The type of cantina you go to when you just need to relax and enjoy a quiet drink or conversation.

Everything about the cantina was exactly the way I had planned it. Still, I really hadn’t planned on being overly social at the moment, so I took my drink and headed through the rear door marked ‘Employees Only’ and headed down the second hall to my living quarters. At least the two doors to my private part of the house were still locked, and my key code worked. I stepped into the living room and stopped short.

A new, fancy desk and recliner rested against the far wall, and a fire was crackling in the fireplace.

Okay, maybe in a drunken stupor I had opened the place and forgotten. I might have hired the pretty bartender and forgotten. I might have even forgotten to lock the damn door, but there was no way I’d have left a blasted fire going in the fireplace.

Remember all those things I said earlier about adrenalin? Well, it was going again. I set the drink on the new desk, drew my pistol and began searching the place.

The room next door was kind of a cross between a museum and a storage room. All my previous gear and a few various items I had collected in my travels were housed there, mounted neatly on a display table I had salvaged from a local theater or resting on shelves. Again, nothing was out of place or missing.

Then I heard the sound of footsteps above me and the scrape of a chair.

“Gotcha,” I muttered. I returned through the living room, paused to grab another quick swallow of whiskey, and quietly ascended the steps to my office.

I slid up beside the door, careful not to trip the sensor that would open it, and paused, listening.

Inside I could hear someone moving about. There was a soft clink of utensils on a plate, and then a sigh.

In my bar, at my desk, eating my food, and ticking me off more and more every second I stood there listening.

“No good rotten,” I muttered and I hit the release, charging into the office with my gun drawn.

Ever have one of those days when the universe decided that life as a concept was simply too dull, and it needed to mess with you in order to liven things up a bit?

The figure at my desk leapt to his feet in surprise and the two of us just stood there gaping at each other. Well, he was gaping anyway.

The platter of food clattered to the floor and the drink splashed across my fine desk.

“What the hell?” he asked me, looking back at me with my eyes.

It was like looking into a mirror. Same hair, same face, same neatly trimmed goatee, same height, same, same, same, same everything.

“What the hell is this?” I asked.

At the same time, this doppelganger also asked. “Who the hell are you?”

I stood there, my weapon forgotten in my hands and my adrenalin surge crashing down into a wave of stunned disbelief.

My weapon lowered as I stepped closer to him, our eyes studying each other with the same mixture of shock and horror.

“What the hell is going on?” I demanded.

“Don’t be giving me attitude boy!” my double replied with equal vehemence. “You tell me what the deal is? Who the hell are you and how did you get into my place?”

“Your place?” I shouted. “This is my place and has been for the last five standard years!”

“The hell it has!” he blurted. “I spent a good year fixing this joint up the way I like it!”

The door hissed open and the bartender stepped in quickly.

“Hey, Brayden?” she started.

“What?” We both turned and answered sharply.

She stopped short and squealed in fright, the data pad she held falling to the floor with a clatter.

She stared at the two of us for moment, her expression not unlike my own, I expect, minus the outrage.

“Okay,” she said carefully. “What’s going on?”

“That’s’ what I’d like to know,” I snarled, walking around my desk, watching them both for any sign of trouble. “I take off for a month and I come back to all this, and you, sitting here pretending to be me!”

“Pretending?” he turned around. “You’re the one pretending pal! I’ve been here for a whole month, getting this place ready, and then you walk in here like you own the place!”

“I do own this place!” I thundered angrily.

“Like hell!” he shot back.

I stalked around the desk again and grabbed him by the shirt collar. He did the same to me and we would have started brawling right there.

“Wait a second!” the bartender shouted. She stepped up to us and looked at both of us carefully. “This is ridiculous. You say you’re Brayden, right?”

“Of course,” he responded.

“The hell you are!” I snarled.

“Just knock it off!” she snapped suddenly with a ferocity that startled me. “Both of you…two.” She finished, letting some of her confusion reassert itself.

To her credit, she was a brave girl, that’s for sure. She stepped up and separated me from him.

“Sit down, you two,” she ordered.

Glaring at one another, we each slowly settled into the chairs before the desk while she sat down in my seat, using a napkin to wipe the majority of the food and drink from the surface. Then she logged into my computer terminal.

“What the hell are you?” I began, but she glared at me in such a way that I suddenly felt silence would be prudent.

“You said you’ve been gone for a month, right?” she asked me.

“Yeah,” I growled, looking across at him.

“And you said you came back a month ago, give or take, right?” she asked him.

“Correct.” He nodded.

Her delicate fingers danced across the keyboard as she initiated some kind of program.

Her eyes danced back and forth between the monitor and us, and a small smile began to creep across her face.

“What the hell is so funny, Sasche?” he asked shortly.

“You two,” she let her smile grow now. Then she sat back and fixed both of us with a knowing look.

“Either of you two boys been in a cloning facility in the last month, give or take?”

I was suddenly very uneasy, and I saw him stiffen slightly as well as we glanced quickly at each other and then back at her.

“What do you mean?” We both asked innocently.

Sasche’s smile widened. “That’s what I thought. Do you remember what day you had to be reconstituted?”

We exchanged another glance and then looked back at her expectantly.

“Face it, boys,” she grinned. “You’re clones.”

“This is crazy!” I said, exploding to my feet and circling the desk. “I know who I am and this imposter here is trying to muscle in on my business!” I jabbed a finger in his direction.

“Oh, please!” He replied. “You didn’t have a business until I came home and opened the damn door!”

“My house!” I shouted angrily, feeling my blood boil.

“There you go again!” Sasche shouted. She looked at him. “You, shut up!”

I smiled triumphantly as he glared at me.

“And you!” she looked up at me. “Sit your tail back down right now!”

This time it was his turn to smile.

“You’re like a couple of stubborn younglings!” she said, standing up and putting her hands on her hips. “Fighting over a toy!”

Even at her full height, I was still a full head and shoulders taller than her, and almost half again in mass. She had gumption, that’s for sure.

“Now, both of you sit there and lose the attitude so we can figure this thing out!”

I let an exasperated sigh escape from me even as he raised a hand in mock military salute.

“Now,” she said, sitting back down at the terminal. “When did you get cloned?”

When neither of us was quick to respond, she looked at us.

“Any time…either one?”

We both squirmed a little bit over that before he finally sighed.

“Thirty six standard days ago.”

“Thirty seven,” I corrected him.

“Six!” He said sharply.

“Seven!” I countered.

“Fine!” she held her hands up. “Thirty six, or thirty seven days ago, sheesh!”

“I still say this imposter is muscling in on my business,” I grumbled.

“Oh please!” he shot back. “Running all over the galaxy hunting down lowlife crooks to pay the rent? There’s a promising career!”

“Aha, see?” I said leaning forward and jabbing my finger at him. “I have no problem with my job! Now I know he isn’t me!”

“Shut up!” Sasche said evenly.

I sat back and stewed for a few minutes. When I opened my mouth to speak, she cut me off with a quick sound and a raise of a finger.

“Not another word,” she said.

“But,” he began.

“Either of you!” she finished.

She finished entering her sequence and then stood up.

“I’m gonna go check on the customers,” she offered. “I think you two are in for a long evening, and I don’t want the customers raiding the liquor cabinet while you two beat the stuffing out of each other. Heck, they may want to place bets, so don’t start fighting till I collect the money, okay?”

“Fine,” I said. I watched her stroll towards the door and then rubbed my eyes. “I need to grab some sleep anyway.”

“You can’t,” he said quickly.

“Can’t what?” I asked, annoyed.

“Sleep in the old bedroom,” he replied.

“And why not?” I asked, my temper flaring again.

“Cause I changed a few things,” he admitted.

I felt a sudden headache coming on. “What the hell did you do to my place?”

He almost started the argument again, but stopped.

“See,” Sasche offered with a smile. “Progress. Be right back, boys.”

She collected her dropped data pad as she vanished through the door.

He looked at me for a moment and then sighed.

“Come on,” he rose and headed towards the door.

“What now?”

He turned and fixed me with my own annoyed stare. “You wanna see what I changed or not?”

With a groan, I followed him down the hall to where my old kitchen had been.

When I stepped through the doorway, I was surprised to see that the old apartment furniture had been removed, right down to the old cabinetry.

Instead, now, fine red and black sofa’s lined the walls of the room, with rich sturdy black circular tables before each one, and a single pole mounted in the floor rising up to reinforced mounts in the ceiling.

The alcove that had held the kitchen and food prep area was now a small bar, and the smoky one way window looked down on the main room below.

He stepped up next to me and we saw Sasche expertly making the rounds, taking orders or refilling half empty glasses.

“I need another drink,” I sighed.

“Cabinet behind the bar,” he replied.

I turned and ducked beneath the bar, finding the much needed carafe of Corellian Whiskey. I poured myself a large glass and leaned against the sturdy new bar.

In fact, everything looked brand new.

“Where did all this stuff come from anyway?” I asked.

“I built it,” he replied easily, taking the carafe and another tumbler.

“You did?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“All this?” I continued with a smile. “In a month?”

“What do you think?” He asked.

I had to admit, the décor was nice, like a VIP lounge at one of those exclusive clubs that I never got invited to.

“I like it,” I nodded. “Not bad for a months work.”

“What, this?” he snorted. “This took a day.”

He motioned for me to follow him down the back stairs to where my bedroom had been.

Now, instead of my bed and personal effects, the room had been transformed into a gaming parlor. Two expensive looking stone Sabaac Tables and ten chairs sat in the center of the room. Beneath them, the floor was carpeted and several rich paintings hung on the walls.

Two more of the fine red and black sofas sat in the alcoves along the back wall of the room with another of those dark wooden tables between them, and on the next wall, beneath the hand rail for the stairs hung several of my old rifles. And on the main wall that backed up to the area behind the bar was a new, colorful painting showing a Jedi ghost and a Padawan, which were outlawed images in the current regime.

“Um,” I managed to ask when I found my voice again. “Where’s all my stuff?”

“In the house,” he replied.

“No it isn’t,” I shot back tersely.

“The other house, burn brain,” he retorted. “The small one I built behind this place.”

“Small house,” I said, turning to face him. “Do I have any money left? I still owe Begar five thousand from…”

“Ah I paid the leather faced idiot when he called,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“God,” I sighed. “I’m broke.”

“Nah,” he replied. “I got plenty for now, well, not as much as I’d like, but those two other homes I sold helped out a bit.”

“What two other homes?” I was stunned.

He grinned. “That’s what I’ve done in a month. Oh, by the way, I’m gonna redo the power transfer couplings on the High Roller, and the X-Wing needs an overhaul too.”

Got him! I didn’t have any knowledge about building furniture or fixing ships. I don’t care what the lout looked like, he wasn’t me!

I grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. He responded, well, like I would, and blocked my punch, wrapping up my arms in a tangle and then pushing me off.

“What is your problem pal?” he asked angrily.

“I’m looking at it!” I said angrily. I charged again.

We pushed each other across the new room, sending chairs and tables crashing until we passed through the door, across the hall and I tripped on the edge of the opposite door.

We dropped in a tangle and I wrestled my way out and up, my fist drawn back to pummel him.

“Fine!” A shrill voice shouted at us.

We both looked over and saw Sasche standing near the stairs, glaring at the two of us like an angry matron.

“You want to beat each other senseless, or do you two morons want to know what happened?” She asked angrily.

Then she fixed me with a reproachful look. “Get off him! I swear, when I came through that door, if I had known I was getting into this kind of drama, I never would have taken the job!”

She turned and stomped up the steps.

How was she doing that? Every time I was in a position to kick the snot out of this imposter, she could snap me back to focus like my old drill sergeant.

The reaction from my counterpart seemed to be identical. I stood up and straightened my clothes, watching as he did the same and headed for the stairs after fixing me with a frosty look. “We’ll finish this later.”

“Any time, chump,” I replied as I followed him.

We entered the office to find her seated on my desk with the monitor facing us.

“There, you two bone heads,” she snorted. “Read it and weep.”

We both knelt before the monitor and read the headline from the month prior.

“Prominent Corescant Architect Is Lost In Cloning System Glitch”

The story related how a successful architect named Michas Madoin had been accosted and slain in a petty robbery. We both exchanged a glance when we realized that the date and time of the accident coincided with my unfortunate tussle with Rerlower, a wookie brawler.

I’ll spare you the gory details, but in a nut shell, the wookie won.

“Now,” Sasche continued as we read the details of the crime. “Do you two want to beat each other senseless or do you want to start dealing with the situation at hand?”

“What situation?” he asked.

The realization settled over me like a dark cloud, and I was surprised when he didn’t reach the same conclusion.

“Technically,” I said. “The Empire is going to consider you a renegade clone.”

“What?” He shot up from the chair. “Why me? Why not you?”

“Because I came out of the vat first, that’s why!” I said a little more sharply than I wanted to. “Sorry.”

“And how are they gonna know?” He protested.

“Because all clones are genetically tagged with a marker that shows the constitution date,” I explained. “Which means, when they find the error that hatched you, they’ll put the word out.”

“Wait a second,” he went on. “I didn’t ask for this! I got just as much right to be walking and breathing as anyone else!”

I looked back at Sasche, sitting before us with an expectant, almost motherly look on her face. “Would you excuse us for a moment, please?”

She nodded and withdrew.

I stood up and reseated myself in front of the terminal.

“Which med center did you wake up at?” I asked.

“What difference does that make?” he shot back.

“Just answer the question!” I demanded.

“Amyrlin,” he said after a moment. “On Naboo.”

I frowned. “How the hell did that happen?”

“Like I have any answers here?” He retorted.

“Look,” I said. “I woke up on Tatooine, at the Eisley center and this guy, Madoin bought it on Corescant. Then, somehow, two sets of information wind up at the Private Med Center in Amyrlin, on Naboo.”

He frowned. “How do you know it’s a private center?”

“Well, I guess you don’t know everything about me then, do you?” I said smugly. “Like the fact that I got a house in Amyrlin, on Naboo. Otherwise you probably would have crawled over to it and passed out there after you renovated my sound studio.”

“I’m about to renovate you,” he growled.

I stopped my data inquiry and sighed. This was not going to be easy.

“Let’s not go there, alright?” I suggested darkly. “Not with the mood I’m in right now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he retorted sarcastically. “I’ll just go hang a sign on my chest that says ‘I’m the one you want, shoot me’!”

“Be my guest!” I blurted back impatiently.

The beginnings of a plan were percolating in my mind. If the moron would just shut up I might finish a thought here. It was maddening. There were so many aspects of this person that mirrored my own, and at the same time there were these personality quirks that were completely unlike me, like the panic that was beginning to show on his face. If I didn’t know better…

“That might work,” I mused, rubbing my chin thoughtfully.

“What?” he stopped pacing about the room and looked at me. “What is it?”

I fixed him with a stern stare. “First, calm the hell down or I’ll shoot you myself. Second, sit down, and third, let me think for God sake!”

I keyed the communications line and entered a code.

The signal processed and then connected. An image snapped into view and I saw Vale’, one hand holding a sheet over her chest, the other reaching up past the image finder to key the circuit.

“Yeah?” she said drowsily.

“Hey sweetheart,” I greeted, noting the additional shape beneath the sheets just behind her on the bed. “Sorry to wake you.”

“No problem, Uncle A,” she smiled. That title was her way of informing me that I shouldn’t keep her long, for personal reasons. “What’s up?”

“Do you still have a local for that one slicer by you?” I asked. “The one who specializes in personal info?”

She looked back at the other figure and then back at me again, rubbing her eyes.

“You mean Datho Imili? Yeah,” she nodded. “I can com link you the guy’s contact info if you want. Do you need it right away?”

Translation: I’m a little busy at the moment, can it wait till morning?

I smiled and shook my head. “That’s fine.” Then I let my features settle into my disapproving fatherly expression. “Anyone I know, young lady?”

She smiled. “Nope.”

“Anyone I want to know?” I continued. My stern features began to crack into a smile.

She blew a kiss to me. “Night, Uncle. Love you.”

The screen went blank.

Surprisingly, my evil twin had the same concerned look on his face. The call to my adopted niece had achieved the calming effect that my other tactics had failed to create.

“I always worry about her when she does that,” he shook his head.

“Yeah, me too,” I agreed. “But, she’s a big girl now.”

“That doesn’t help,” he said. “I’m never gonna stop thinking about her as that little sand rat we found in the desert.”

I looked up at him in surprise. “You remember that too?”

He shrugged. “It’s a little weird actually. I remember a whole bunch of things about my life, up to a point, and then I have this different life mixed in between, along with all the skills it brought with it. I spent the last month trying to balance them out so I didn’t go crazy. I didn’t take any coms or answer any messages; I just kind of sequestered myself here and occupied my time with a few projects.”

“Well,” I nodded. “That move probably saved your butt. Now we need to insulate it.”

I smiled suddenly. “Pick a name.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Cause you aren’t getting mine, Junior.” I finished.

“Why can’t you pick a name?” he asked shortly.

“Two reasons,” I replied easily. “First, I’m already established and you’re just starting out. Second, I came out of the vat first.”

“That’s going to get old, real fast,” he growled.

I grinned. “Well, it works for twins.”

“Twins!” he blurted as if the idea were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. Then he stopped. “Twins?”

“Why not?” I shrugged. “So, pick a name.”

He sat back and thought for a minute or two, and then he turned the data screen to face him and changed the monitor to the story of the murdered architect.

“I’ll use his name,” he said after a moment to consider. “After all, he is part of the reason I’m here.”

“Michas Ayala,” I considered. I think I smiled. “Has a nice flow to it.”

“I’ll get hold of this Datho character tomorrow and get the necessary documentation input and that should cover you.” I sighed. “In the mean time. I need another drink.”

“Sounds good to me.” He replied.

We went back down the stairs and into the main bar. Those few patrons with enough wits about them to know that they weren’t seeing double, gave us simple, curious looks just like they would any familial anomaly like identical twin siblings.

Sasche smiled when she saw us grab two places at the bar, next to each other.

“You two work your differences out?” she asked.

I nodded and gestured to him.

“That’s Michas, for future reference.” I said evenly.

She nodded. She set two fresh tumblers of whiskey in front of us and moved to another, grizzled older man waving fro her. He was dressed in dirty old clothing and his skin was the color of pale leather, obviously a prospector of some kind.

I turned around and leaned against the smooth wood of the bar, my eyes surveying the activity around me.

There were about fifteen people at their ease, drinking and conversing quietly with the juke box droning out a consistent stream of soft, relaxing music.

“I must say. You have done a good job with the place. I like it.”

“Thanks,” he replied sipping his drink. He smiled. “Just wait till we get some real high rollers in here.”

“So,” I went on, glancing back at Sasche. “Where’d you find her?”

He shrugged. “I just put an add in the local nets and she showed up at the door. Why?”

“You paying her under the table?” I continued, watching as she looked over at us and smiled that infectious smile again.

“That was the condition,” He replied. “Hard credits only.”

The overworked wheels in my skull were spinning again. “Then there’s something more to her than just bartending.”

She breezed past us again, grabbing bottles and expertly mixing a drink before returning past us a second time and delivering the ordered drink.

“Not that she isn’t good at it,” I added. “But you saw how she just dove into the network from my terminal. She knows a little more than just how to make a Talusian Sunspot, if you know what I mean?”

He turned and looked at her again before looking back at me. “I hadn’t even considered it.”

“Out of the way joint like this?” I said. “And you just happen to find eye candy like that?”

“Eye candy?” He grimaced at the inference.

“I don’t mean anything by it,” I added. “But you have to admit, it’s a little unexpected for someone as good looking as her to wind up at the hind end of the galaxy here, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “I just thought I got lucky.”

“I never get that lucky,” I replied.

“Ah, but you keep saying that I’m not you.” He offered a grin.

“I’ll run a check tomorrow,” I said after I gave him a sarcastic half laugh. “Just to make sure.”

“Hey, Michas!” Sasche called suddenly, and to both our relief, he responded.

“I meant to tell you, Medo called earlier,” she continued. “Wanted to know if you still wanted to meet her for dinner next week?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Medo?”

He shrugged, suddenly a little embarrassed. “She’s a Twilek Droid Engineer I met on Naboo, after I woke up. I bumped into her at the Theed Space Port while I was waiting for my flight here. We started talking, wound up having a nice lunch at the star port cantina,” he offered a shrug.

“Is this going to be an identity problem?” I asked.

“Nope,” he shook his head. “Like a typical Twilek, she insisted on calling me Mister Ayala, so she doesn’t even know my first name yet. She said something about her culture not permitting that kind of familiarity so quickly after meeting someone.”

“But you got to call her Medo?” I added.

“It was her culture,” Michas replied. “Not ours.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

I glanced at Sasche and finished my drink. “Where’s this small house?”

Michas smiled and gestured for me to follow him.

He led me out the door and around to the rear of the bar, there, gleaming in the late evening moonlight was the small, rounded shape of a simple building, favored by residents of less hospitable planets.

“I’ll grab some shut eye in the office,” Michas offered. “You look like you had the busier day.”

I nodded and headed towards the building.

“Hey,” Michas said quickly. “Thanks for everything.”

I laughed. “We haven’t done anything yet.”

He extended his hand. “My point is: You didn’t have to do anything, period.”

I took the proffered hand and shook it.

In that one simple contact I felt something I had never felt before in my life. It was a sense of kinship, an attachment that I assume can only be understood if you are raised in a family with siblings either older or younger. It was a sudden, protective sense of familiarity. I can’t place it in any better terms than that.

I had never had any brothers or sisters growing up. So the experience, even in this highly unusual context was somewhat strange and exhilarating at the same moment. I think I began to smile.

“No problem,” I said. Then my smile widened. “Little brother.”

He gave me a dark look that melted into a wry grin as we shook hands.

The living quarters he had constructed were small but nicely appointed. The main living area had been divided into two small areas, one for entertaining, with a small, functional kitchen area, complete with a circular eating area that could serve as a table or a food preparation island, a nicely decorated area with soft carpet, two leather sofa’s and a couple of overstuffed easy chairs, a desk, and reclining seat, simple, yet comfortable.

The sleeping area was likewise, comfortably yet simply furnished…two more easy chairs and a small table with a lamp, a large bed with a night table, and a second table for the daily odds and ends.

Here and there, shelves had been mounted in the walls, displaying items I had collected in my travels, and some of the more collectable weapons I had acquired were hung neatly on display.

All in all, a nice place to rest after a long day of being shot in the leg, interrogated and otherwise stressed out.

I fell onto the bed, not even bothering to change out of my clothes and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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