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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. Second Guess 2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks Three years before Episode IV - A New Hope 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 the ramifications of his reputation upon his
lifestyle and business. Cast of
Characters Jan
Lomona Durne
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