Eight Sexes I Don’t
Understand
2003 short story by Mark Newbold Seven
years before Episode IV - A New Hope “Now that’s what I call a slap in the
face.” Jan
Lomona rubbed his cheek as he admired the shapely figure of the woman he’d
been chatting up as she strode back towards her group of female friends at
the bar and turned, giving him an angry look.
He gave her a wave and a cocky grin as he turned back to his Duarga
and took a gulp, rubbing his face again.
Jan tried his best to ignore the incredulous look of disbelief coming
from his friend Latti Tellex but found that he couldn’t and looked down. “What?” “What? `Hey
baby, ever seen a type four injector relay?
No? Do you wanna?’ Not exactly your best line.” Latti took a swig from his drink. “You’re losing your touch.” Jan glanced around the room of the Outlander Nightclub,
secreted on the lower levels of Coruscant and leaned against the bar watching
the packed club throb to a loud beat played by a band on a podium. He had to agree, it was a lame line, but
while he and Latti were so far away from the Setnin Sector on business for
Jabba the Hutt he thought he might just try out a few lines he’d picked up
along the way. Scratch that gem from the list… “Latt my old
pal, I don’t have a touch. I have a firm, solid grip on what makes
women tick.” He subconsciously rubbed
his sore cheek again. “Most genders
are the same, easy to read. But some
sexes…” Jan trailed off and took a large mouthful of his obviously
watered-down drink, as he looked sideways down the bar at another potential
early evening’s entertainment that was leaning against the counter, arching
her back and stretching her long, long legs as she did so. “Some sexes are harder to read than brail
in a breadcrumb factory.” “Well, you’d better be able to read Frans
like a children’s book, ‘cause if she ever catches you playing around then
you’re dead as steam powered starships.” Jan raised an eyebrow at the woman as she ordered her
drink and looked back at the young smuggler with a coy smile.” “Hey, don’t
knock steam power. You know I work best under pressure.” Latti grinned as he waved the waitress over for another
drink and ordered a plate of Cockons, his favourite snack. Jan lifted his drink and moved halfway to
meet the female as she approached him. “Hi.” Jan said
simply as he leaned against the bar.
“Joel. Joel St. John.” He inwardly raised an eyebrow and a silent
thanks to the real Joel St.
John, wherever he may be. “Where’d you
jet in from?” “Cloud City,
Bespin.” She replied in a sweet voice.
Jan nodded in appreciation. “Well you look
like an angel so there had to be a cloud in there somewhere.” He motioned towards a table that had just
been vacated and she followed his gaze, grabbing a seat just before another
gaggle of revellers sneaked in. Jan
squeezed in beside her and looked at her again. “So, what’s your name?” “Maarssa
Abbraynee. I’m here on business. Company conference.” She gave the packed room an amused
glance. “Nothing interesting.” “And what is it
that you do?” “Legal
assistant.” She took a sip of her
bright pink, green and blue multi-layered concoction and cocked her
head. “And you, what do you do Joel?” Jan raised a modest eyebrow and shook his head slowly. “Oh, this and that. Some trade, some customs, some excise. Nothing a legal assistant like you would be
interested in.” He gave her his best
smile and leaned in a touch closer.
“So, is this conference staring early tomorrow, or do you have time to
play?” “Play?” repeated
Maarssa, a playful smile teasing at her lips.
“Whatever do you mean?” Jan shook his head as innocently as he could. “I have no
idea. I’m making this up as I go
along.” Maarssa smiled again and sipped at her drink. “I’d figured
that out.” She motioned towards a
gaggle of stiffs in sharp suits that were clustered around the bar. “That’s my team. I’ll tell them we’re heading out and then
you can show me exactly what `play’ means where you come from.” Hmm, this could be
interesting, thought
Jan to himself as he nodded and allowed her to
squeeze and shimmy herself over him and away from the crowded table. A few metres away he could see Latti deep
in conversation with a tall, grey-skinned Twi’lek female, and he couldn’t
resist a wide grin as he watched for a second. The female seemed deeply interested in
whatever it was Latti was saying, and Jan instantly felt better about
abandoning his pal for a few hours while he redefined the dictionary
definition of `play’ once again. He
waited for Maarssa to finish her brief chat with her colleagues and stood to
escort her out, but paused as Latti looked directly at him and motioned for
him to come over. Don’t tell me you need help, he thought to
himself. She’s a Twi’lek. They’re easier to pull than calf muscles.
“Jan!” called Latti, and Lomona frowned as
he moved towards him, knowing that Maarssa wouldn’t have heard his real name
over the crowd and the music but annoyed nonetheless. He stood next to Latti and the Twi’lek and
leaned in. “What? You might not have noticed but I’m kind of
busy.” “You are now.” Interrupted the Twi’lek
female, giving Jan a meaningful glare.
He moved back and raised an eyebrow at her. “Whoa,
lady. I’m flattered but I’ve already
hooked up here. Latti here’s a great
guy. Girls love those face braids.”
He waggled his eyebrows at his friend and patted him on the
shoulder. “He’s second best, but he’ll
do.” “Jan you idiot,
this is our contact.” Oh crap, thought Jan as he felt the ground
beneath him begin to open up. “Lysaar
Shenn. My information told me you’d be
easily distracted.” She gave Maarssa a
sideways glance. “Although I didn’t
anticipate how easily.” Maarssa sidled back towards Jan, waiting for him to
return to her. Lysaar raised an arched
eyebrow at Jan in a manner that was entirely unplayful. “Ditch the
girl. We’ve got work to do.” Jan’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at Lysaar, but
thought better of causing a scene in so public a place and turned back to
Maarssa with a sorry smile on his face. “Look,
something’s come up. My associates
here,” he jerked a cursory thumb over his shoulder at Latti and Lysaar. “They’ve hooked me up with a contact I’ve
been trying to liaise with for a while.
And given that I’m not from these parts, well. I might not get the chance again.” He gave Maarssa another smile, this time a
genuine one. “Although I hope we do.” Maarssa nodded, a breezy smile hiding the disappointment
evident in her eyes. “So do I
Joel. I was looking forward to getting
to know you better.” She handed Jan a
small flim card. “My comm. number,
letter-search code and HoloNet connection address. If you’re ever in town again, look me up.” She
gave Lomona a warm kiss on the cheek.
“I’ll make sure I’m not busy.” “Count on it.”
Said Jan as he pocketed the flim and watched as she walked smoothly back to
her friends. Bespin, it wasn’t so far
into the Outer Rim. Just a swift blast across the Corellian Run, the Hydian
Way, the Rimma Trade Route and along the Corellian Trade Spine. Not so far really. He blew out a long breath of regret and
turned back to Latti and Lysaar.
“Okay. So what’s so damn
important that it can keep me from that?” Lysaar Shenn motioned towards the wide doorway and began
to move. “These walls
have ears. Get moving and I’ll tell
you things you won’t believe.” Jan followed Latti and the grey-skinned Twi’lek as they
strode out of the Outlander, giving Maarssa a final smile. Another friend in the
Core. That’s what I call networking. “Cool pad you’ve got here. You must get paid top credit for your
services.” Jan paused by the
transparisteel window as he watched a freighter not dissimilar to his own fly
past. ”Whatever they are.” He added
under his breath. “Yes I do. And my services are my own business.” Lysaar stood next to Jan and stared up at
him. “Which brings
me to the reason for your trip.” Latti
perked up at this, wisely staying clear of the verbal sparring that had gone
on between the A-desandian and the Twi’lek for the past hour as they journeyed
to her quarters. How they had managed
to simply walk past so many Imperial Stormtroopers, military police and
security operatives Tellex would never know.
But then, they weren’t in the Mid-Rim where their face was plastered
on every wall and holoscreen. This was
the Core, and there were much larger fish to fry than himself and
Lomona. And for once he was thankful
of that. Jan watched another stream of vehicles silently cruise by
as the evening began to roll around and the shadows grew softer. Up here, many hundreds of levels above
where the three of them had rendezvoused, the stark beauty of Coruscant was
readily evident, and Jan was transfixed by its steel and concrete
allure. Jan had never travelled to
Coruscant before, although he knew plenty of agents who regularly did, and
the steel planet reminded him of Commodor back in Setnin, a world largely
covered in starship repair bays. For
once he was thankful to Jabba for assigning him this mission, and hoped that
it would be the beginning of even more lucrative and vital missions. Perhaps if Jabba kept up this generosity he
might have to consider relocating towards the Outer Rim, be closer to the
Tatooine action. And his new friend
Maarssa. Jan finally looked down again at Lysaar. “Okay, so the
mission. I’ll tell you what I know and
then you tell me how wrong I am.” “Alright, what
do you know?” Jan blew out a long breath and raised his eyebrows as he
glanced at Latti who was scrolling through the inter-sector edition of the
Chancai Express. “I know that
when I was given this job it was a hot one that a couple of the guys had
shied away from it. I know it’s
important to Jabba, but I don’t know why.”
He paused and fixed Lysaar with a hard stare. “I know that if he can afford to allow you
the time to brief me like this, then it’s some heavy deal that’s going down
here.” Shenn nodded and moved away to the centre of the
apartment, seating herself in front of Latti.
She waited for Jan to sit and crossed her legs. “Jabba has got a
problem.” “Yeah I
know. It’s called water retention.” “Jan!” barked
Latti as he looked up, frowning as the smuggler grinned it off. Lysaar continued. “He has agents,
operatives, bounty hunters, assassins and smugglers working in all parts of
the galaxy. He has a network that’s
only rivalled by Black Sun. But,” she
paused as she leaned forward. “He’s
got problems in the Mid-Rim. Your part
of town.” Jan frowned and cocked his head as he too leaned in. “Problems with
who, exactly?” “Don’t panic Captain; it’s nothing to do
with Cipple. This problem is with
another ganglord. A character by the
name of Gale Fender.” Jan turned to Latti, a look of surprise etched into his
youthful features. Gale Fender was a
player in the Mid-Rim, and worked on the peripheries of Setnin, but had never
elevated himself to main event status.
If he had somehow managed to anger the Hutt, to such a degree that he
would send two smugglers to Coruscant to be briefed by one of his agents,
then Fender had certainly earned Jans admiration. “Never knew he
had it in him. Fender, eh.” Jan rubbed his chin in thought. I
really should have shaved this morning.
He looked at Latti again as his partner took a swig of his
drink and cleared his throat. “Fender has
nibbled at the edge of Setnin’s pie but has never taken the next step. He’s a name but not a serious threat to
anyone, although I know he makes good profits and has a loyal team. If he’s managed to get noticed by Jabba
then he’s worth watching.” “Believe me, Jabba has been watching him very closely. Very
closely.” Lysaar uncrossed her
legs and lifted a datapad from the table, motioning for Jan and Latti to do
the same. “Take a look. Reports of his activities along the
Corellian Run and the Rimma Trade Route, through the Expansion, the Inner
Rim. Right here to Coruscant. It seems Mister Fender is a very wily
operator. An opportunist. He’s acquired backwater routes from a wide
range of people and hooked them together in such a way that he can carry
merchandise from the Elrood Sector to Vulpter without encountering a single
picket ship, interdictor, pirate raid or inspection
frigate.” Lysaar tossed the pad onto
the couch. “Now do you understand why
Jabba’s taking notice?” Jan nodded slowly, engrossed in the tale scrolling down
the datapad. This was
unbelievable. In just a few short
months, Gale Fender had gone from being a bit-part player in a large
production to directing it. He’d
achieved things that Cipple, Dressel, Wessen, hell, even Dessio D’Staan had
failed to do. No wonder the slug’s annoyed.
Jan stood and wandered around the centre of the apartment, the mood
lighting slowly growing as the sun set outside and the neon glow of Coruscant
increased. If Glann ever got his hands on this information, it would be worth…it
would be priceless. Jan caught
himself before his thoughts carried him away into dangerous waters. But
Jabba would know it was me who gave it to him. “What’s Jabba
got in mind then? If he wanted Fender
dead he’d have hired an assassin, and I’m no killer.” He paused.
“Unless lady-killers
count?” Lysaar closed her eyes and shook her head wearily. “No, that
doesn’t count. And you’re right, he
doesn’t want Fender dead. Quite the
contrary, he wants him alive.”
“Kidnapping?” Jan lowered the
pad. “Lady, I think you’ve hired the
wrong guy here. I’m a smuggler and
pilot, Latti’s the same. This sounds
like a specialist job.” Lysaar stood and moved towards Jan slowly, and he froze,
unsure of what she was about to do.
She took the datapad from him and placed it on the table, looking him
square in the eye. “You are from
Setnin. So is Fender. Speak to him in his own language.” “And say
what? Look, I’m an up and coming
smuggler with some Mid-Rim experience.
What can I say to
Fender?” Lysaar allowed herself the luxury of a smile, and Jan
noticed that her entire face looked different when she did. It suited her. “You can say
things like `Jabba thinks it best
you restrict your activities to the Mid-Rim’, or `Wouldn’t you be better off concentrating
your efforts away from the Core?’
Or best of all `Back off or
you’re a dead man.’” “And you want me to tell him that?” “In your own words, yes.” “In my own
words.” Latti
glanced from one to the other and shook his head in disbelief. “Well, you said
we wouldn’t believe it and you were right.” Lysaar strode past Latti and out of the room, looking
back over her shoulder as she did so. “Good. I’d hate to disappoint.” Jan watched the Twi’lek exit into her room and raised his
arms in exasperation as he stared, open-mouthed at his partner. “And today
started so well,” he began. “And
there’s me jabbering on about
how glad I was to be here. No pun
intended.” “You’d better
watch what you wish for, because I don’t see a way out of this one.” Latti slumped back into the couch. “We’re gonna have to think of something to
say to Fender, and fast.” “Too freckin’
right we are. But what? I know I’m building a rep back in the
Mid-Rim but out here, things happen.
Fender could dice me into strips and sent what’s left of me back to
Setnin in a blender. I’ve got no sway
over him.” Jan glanced back at the
pad. “And by the looks of this,
neither has Glann.” “Or Jabba. Which must give you some
leverage.” Jan furrowed his brow and looked back at Latti. “And exactly how
do you figure that one out?” Latti leaned forward to the edge of his seat. “Alright, if
Jabba wanted Fender gone then he’d be gone.
Hell, if Jabba wanted Glann gone he’d be gone, right?” Jan nodded slowly. “Right.” “Okay, so Fender
is someone Jabba needs on the scene for a reason. He’s a pawn in Jabba’s games.” Jan smirked as he slammed back into the couch, arms
spread across the back of the cushions. “Aren’t we all?” Latti nodded as he continued. “Gale Fender may
be small fry as far as Setnin is concerned, but this elevates him right up
the superiority ladder. A good few
rungs past Dressel, Wessen, Glann. Do
you get where I’m going with this?” Jan looked away as he tried to unravel what Latti was
saying. “No, and I don’t
think you do either.” “What Mister
Tellex is trying to say is that sooner or later Fender knew he’d get a visit
from one of Jabba’s men. But he
wouldn’t expect that person to also be an employee of Glann Cipple.” Lysaar stood in the doorway of the room,
silk dress smoothed down the toned contours of her body like freshly poured
cream. “Trouble in the Core is one
thing. Trouble at home is quite
another. That is what you were about
to say, isn’t it?” Latti gulped and nodded slowly. “Err, yeah. Right.
Just that.” He turned back to
Jan, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline. “Just that.” “So I visit
Fender. We visit Fender.” Jan
motioned to Latti. “And we get a
face-to-face.” He stood and strolled
around the couch towards the window, affording himself a view of both
Coruscant by twilight and Lysaar in profile.
“And I throw him the well-thought out lines that you suggested. What then?
What if he decides he’s a Jawa in a Rancor pit with a flick knife and
gets all brave on us? As much as I
respect Jabba I’m not willing to die for him.” Lysaar smiled and pushed away from the doorway towards
Jan. “I didn’t expect
you would be. But what I am willing to
do is to follow orders. And my orders
are to back you up to the best of my abilities.” Jan fought back the cocky grin that was just dying to
spill out across his lips. “Oh yeah, your services.” “That’s right
flyboy.” There was a ten second bout of silence as Jan and Lysaar
eyed each other, neither sure if the other was testing or
teasing. Latti cleared his throat and
took another swig of his beverage. “Well we’d
better arrange to meet Fender quick, because we head
back tomorrow.” Jan and Lysaar both turned their heads and looked at
Latti as if he’d sprouted a second head. “Do you think I
got into this dress just to impress you?” “No,” said Latti
flatly. “But well done all the same.” “20.00 hours
tonight, Monument Plaza. Fender has
hired the plaza for three hours to celebrate his `success’. He’s fooled the
authorities into believing that it’s a business conference for a company from
Bespin, which it is, but the gathering largely consists of his most trusted
operatives.” Lysaar raised an arched eyebrow. “And I’ve got three invites.” Jan
rubbed his hand across his chin and rued the stubble once again as he put two
and two together and came up with a certain young lady he had been chatting
up not two hours ago. “Err, there might be
a slight problem with that.” Lysaar reached into her handbag and pulled out a slim
invitation card, and Jan couldn’t resist a grin as he noted the Holo-picture
and writing. Nice move lady. “I’m way ahead
of you, Mister St. John.” “Now, you know what to do old pal. Blend in but don’t get blended. Mix it up, look natural.” Jan glanced around at the glitterati spread
across Monument Plaza, the only remaining piece of natural Coruscant left
untouched. “And remember, this place
is classy. So no Cockons” “Yeah, I got
it.” Latti gave Jan a good look up and
down, noting his deep purple evening suit and orange tie. “I suppose you’re putting the class in classy.” “Damn
right. I’m the class, she’s the lass
and you’re the ass, as in park it in
that seat and mingle.” Jan
pointed to the long, well-staffed bar.
“Now get moving, we ain’t got long.” Latti gave Jan a final sideways glare and straightened
his jacket as he ambled to the bar.
Lysaar was a study in concentration as she surveyed their surroundings
and eyed all those close to her. Jan
had a better vantage point, being toweringly tall as he was, and checked out
their situation for potential danger, but he could neither see nor sense
none. Here on Coruscant, where he had
been told that it was wise to not only check your wallet for pickpockets but
also your kidneys, he had felt perfectly safe and easy. It was not unlike Chancai or Amagad. While it was clear that all three locations
held hidden dangers, if your wits were kept close to the surface then it was
fine. And Jan Lomona always kept his
wits about him. Lysaar slipped her arm into his, strengthening the
impression that they were together and simply guests at the soiree, and
leaned in close to talk, swinging her eyes nonchalantly across the skyline to
where Gale Fender was regaling a gaggle of his associates with some unknown
tale and eliciting loud laughter from the group. Jan nodded and began to walk forward
slowly. He felt naked without his
blaster or any other weapons on him, but knew by planetary law that here in
Monument Plaza no one else would be packing either. Not that he felt any easier by that. Not having his trusted blaster was like
missing a limb. He neared Fender and his associates, an easy smile on his
features and a beautiful Twi’lek on his arm.
He knew how women like Lysaar were seen as mere trophies here in the
Core, and a looker like her would be viewed as a championship victory and
perhaps another step towards a conversation with Fender. A twosome of brawny Trandoshan bruisers
blocked their path and Jan looked down at them. “A word with
Mister Fender, if you don’t mind.” “I do mind,” growled the left side
Trandoshan, his emerald green eyes and olive skin glowing palely in the neon
hue of the evening. “Mister Fender
isn’t to be disturbed. You can speak
when he talks to you.” Lysaar moved around Jan, standing in front of him, her
hand still in his and gave the two hulking lizards her sweetest smile. Jan glanced away, smiling to himself. Think
I’m beginning to see what some of those services are now… “Surely Mister Fender wouldn’t begrudge us
a moment of his time. My fiancé has
travelled a long way to be here. From
the Setnin Sector.” The two
Trandoshans traded looks. “He simply
wishes to pass on his congratulations.”
She squeezed Jans hand as he slipped an arm around her waist and
nodded in agreement. “Where’s the harm
in that?” The silent Trandoshan turned and walked through a ring of
bodyguards, made up of races from Belkadan to Anoth and spoke to Fenders
aide, a stick-thin, ash-haired woman by the name of Ol-oria Eneira. Eneira gave Jan and Lysaar a slit-eyed
stare, her gaunt features and pallid skin giving her a sickly appearance, and
nodded slowly, not breaking off her gaze.
Jan and Lysaar moved through the throng and into the inner circle of Fenders
associates. Jan straightened his
shoulders and cleared his throat as he approached Fender. The gangster turned as Jan and Lysaar
arrived and cocked his head in acknowledgement. Jan squeezed Lysaar’s hand again and spoke. “Mister
Fender. I’ve been asked to convey my
congratulations to you and your associates.” Fender lapsed into an amused smile as he glanced at
Lysaar, who looked delicious in her eveningwear. “And who’s congratulations am I accepting?” “My own, Joel
St. John. And my employer.” Jan paused a second, just for effect. “Jabba the Hutt.” Fenders calm visage slipped a notch as Jan spoke, and he
turned an angle away from the rest of his entourage, closer to Jan and
Lysaar. “Jabba the
Hutt?” He repeated, almost to
himself. He looked at Jan and Lysaar
in turn. “And why would the mighty
Jabba be congratulating me?” Lysaar released Jan’s hand and moved in front of him
again, much as she had with the guards. “Because he
admires fearlessness and inventiveness.
Because you managed a feat that few from beyond the Mid-Rim have
either attempted or achieved. And
because he has a proposition for you.” “A
proposition? Really.” Fender paused, rubbing his chin with his
finger and thumb, deep in thought.
“Why hasn’t he come here with this proposition himself?” Jan raised an internal eyebrow. Jabba,
travel? He’s probably left his Palace
ten times in the past five years. He
wouldn’t travel all the way to Coruscant for a player like you. Lysaar spoke. “Because Hutts don’t travel well. And because Jabba’s overlord Prince Xizor
has ordered him to remain on Tatooine.”
Lysaar’s last words were a total fabrication: Jabba was on Tatooine attending to matters
of court. But the mere mention of
Black Sun’s head brought another worried look to Fenders face. While few would dare to directly oppose or
annoy the Hutt, none in their right mind would even consider going against
the wishes of the Falleen Prince who ruled the criminal underworld of the
galaxy. And if Fender believed Jabba
could be ordered to remain in the Outer Rim, then what say would a small time
operator punching above his weight like Fender have? Gale Fender reigned in what little composure he had kept
in the last minute and eyed Jan closely. “I see. So Mister St John, this proposition. What does Jabba propose?” Jan looked around at the assorted mass of guests and
lowered his voice. “Maybe we should
take a stroll.” He smiled down at
Lysaar, who remained outwardly charming and courteous but inside was as
steely as a photon torpedo. “Alone.”
“Certainly.” Fender moved over
to briefly converse with Ol-oria Eneira and motioned for his guards to make a
path for him and Jan to walk through as Lysaar initially refused to release Lomonas
hand. He stayed in the moment, leaning
down and planting a soft kiss on her pale grey lips and giving her a calming
grin. “It’ll be okay
honey. I know what I’m doing.” “You’d
better.” She replied in a serious
tone, a smile on her face as Jan walked to join Fender and the two men left
the party in full swing behind them and began a lap of Monument Plaza. They strolled in silence for a couple of
minutes until they were well clear of the congregation and began to speak. “Joel St.
John. So that’s the name you’re using
these days is it, Lomona?” Jan looked down at Fender and shoved his hands in his
pockets, a smile drifting across his face. “Didn’t think
that would fool a man like you.” He
looked above, a thousand fireflies of starship engines buzzing through the
night. “Keeps a man like me out of
trouble.” “I dare say it
does.” Fender gazed into the distance
at the furious light shows of the entertainment district that glittered like
a jewel before them, and viewed the lazy drift of Imperial vessels as they
patrolled overhead. “You know I could
have you eliminated right now. You,
the Twi’lek girl and Tellex.” Jan nodded in agreement as they continued their wide arc
around the plaza. “You could, no
doubt about it. But we both know what
that would get you.” Jan turned and
looked down at Fender. “Jabba sent
me. Glann knows I’m here. And as if that wasn’t enough, Xizor ordered
Jabba to send someone as his envoy instead of coming himself.” Jan looked ahead again. “You shoot the messenger and the cavalry
won’t be taking any prisoners.” Fender smiled to himself as he nodded. “You think
highly of yourself Lomona. What makes
you think you’re any more or less important than any other aspiring smuggler
I have to deal with?” “Because if I
wasn’t, you’d have had her deal with me.”
Jan thrust a thumb over his shoulder towards the ashen Eneira
Ol-oria. “I wouldn’t have made it into
the plaza, much less be here talking with you. And besides,” Jan stopped walking and
waited for Fender to do the same. “You
and me both know that there are ways to settle
things and there are ways to settle things.” Fender knew what Jan was talking about. How could he not, it was part of the
code. The creed. The Setnin Way. Perhaps the A-desandian was handing him a
narrow path through the chaos, when the forces of Jabba the Hutt, Black Sun
and the Empire swelled around him.
Fender continued to walk and waited for Jan to catch up. “I knew this day
would come.” Jan cocked his head and gave Fender a nod of admiration. “For what it’s
worth, you’ve impressed the hells out of me.
I never knew you had it in you.” Fender stared ahead as the tunnel vision of inevitability
began to whir its black-rimmed swirl around him. “Don’t patronise
me, smuggler.” “I’m not. Believe me, I’m not. But think about this.” Jan moved ahead of Fender, stopping him in
his tracks. “You’ve done something
Jabba’s only dreamed of. Something
Glann would give his right arm for.
You’ve made Xizor sit up and take notice.” A lie, but one that conveniently fitted Jans story. “And
all from the Mid-Rim. From
Setnin.” Jan blew a long breath out of
his mouth. “Talk about putting a place
on the map.” Fender paused, uncertain as to what to say. It was clear the smuggler wasn’t here to
gloat, or to throw down shallow and boring threats. Perhaps there was a way out of this
predicament. He frowned to
himself. And the evening had started so well… “What do you suggest?” “Jabba hired me
for this job. And you know how Jabba deals with threats
and annoyances.” Fender
knew only too well how the Hutt dealt with his enemies. A well-fed Rancor and a thriving bounty
hunting profession was testament to that. “I do.” “But I figure he
didn’t wager on you and me having this connection. Setnin.
And the way I figure it, even if you have to withdraw right back to
the edge of the Soluman Delta Gulf, you’ll still be creds in.” “It certainly
beats the alternative.” Fender
seemingly resigned to his business’ fate asked another question. “My operation to the Core. What will become of it?” Jan knew this would be asked of him, knew that he would
have to formulate an answer to placate every one concerned. But until the words began to stream out of
his mouth, he really wasn’t sure what he was going to say. “The map plots a
free path through the Core from Elrood to Vulpter, right?” Fender nodded as they continued to
stroll. Jan continued. “And even
though you must trust your staff, no one but you has a full copy of that
map.” “Of course
not. In my organisation, starmaps and
hyperspace routes are on a need-to-know basis.” Sensible. Glann should adopt that policy. “Alright, so you have the only map. And there really is only one map, right?” Fender nodded slowly, beginning to grasp at what Jan was
suggesting. “One map.” Jan looked at Fender, raising an eyebrow. The gang boss nodded as his shoulders
slumped slightly. “If I agree to
destroy the map I’d have time to regroup.
Extricate myself from this situation.” “It’s a
start. That map is probably the most
highly prized hyperspace route in the galaxy right now. A route like that, evading Imperial pickets
and pirate raids would be worth a
fortune. But think about
it. With the map, you’d be a target
for every single crime organisation in the galaxy. Not just in Setnin, or the Mid-Rim, but everywhere. Jabba wants it, Xizor wants it, Ploovoo-two-for-one wants it. Hell, I want it. The best
thing you could do with that map right now is delete it. And destroy the
computer that held the information.”
Jan gave him a sad smile.
“Maybe that’s crazy. You’d be
throwing away a fortune, but believe me, what’s the alternative? You’d be rich but you’d be miserable. That crick in your neck from looking over
your shoulder would keep you awake every night.” Fender let out another long breath as he shook his head
and walked on slowly. “And what of the
Hutt. Xizor. Cipple, Dressel and the rest of the
Mid-Rim?” Jan didn’t have an answer for that question, not even one
that conveniently fitted the facts of the story. He placed his hands back into his pockets
and watched as the skies filled with stars and ships. “I’m just a
smuggler. If I had an answer for that
then I wouldn’t be here. That’s for
you to figure, but I wouldn’t take too long about it.” Jan swung a look around Monument Plaza as
they began the walk back to the gathering.
“Jabba has men everywhere. And
Black Sun is based here.” He stared
ahead again. “It’s time to make a
decision.” “My decision is
made. Better to retreat and fight another
day than end it all here.” Fender
rubbed his hands together, surreptitiously pressing a button that was nestled
in the cuff of his sleeve. “Rejoin the
party, enjoy the evening. Tomorrow you
can tell Jabba that the map has been destroyed and that balance has been
restored.” Jan furrowed his brow as he acknowledged Fenders words
and wondered what the button was activating.
He could see Lysaar deep in conversation with an imposing male
Twi’lek, and Latti mingling with the glitterati at the long, well-staffed
bar, eating Cockons and sinking drinks.
He continued the final hundred-meter walk back to the party alongside
Fender in silence and nodded at Latti as he passed him, moving beside Lysaar
and sliding his arm around her waist.
She responded with a squeeze and turned from the male Twi’lek, moving
Jan around to talk face-to-face with him. “All done?” She asked.
Jan smiled. “He’s destroying
the map.” Lysaar almost gasped aloud but managed to compose herself
before she let slip. Jan looked directly
down at her, right eyebrow cocked, waiting for her response. “He’s what?” She whispered. “You heard. No map, no problem.” Lysaar pushed against Jan, making him back-peddle into an
open space with no other people within ear shot and pulled him close, making
it appear to bystanders that she was whispering sweet nothings into his
ear. The male Twi’lek looked on
enviously. “Jabba’s
expecting the map to be delivered. No
map, big problem.” “Lady, you said
nothing about Jabba wanting the map.”
He cast a quick glance around them, checking for spying eyes and
curious ears and returned his gaze to Lysaar.
“It’s a little late for me to change the deal now.” “Oh, I wouldn’t
worry about that Captain Lomona.” Jan frowned but didn’t take his eyes off the beautiful
Twi’lek. It was Fenders voice, and he
could see out of the corner of his eye Latti being shoved towards them and
Fenders two hulking Trandoshan bodyguards, blasters in hand aimed
unwaveringly at both him and Lysaar.
He gave her an assured smile that she couldn’t quite read and turned
to look at Fender. “Thought we had
an agreement.” Jan watched as Eneira
Ol-oria slid beside Fender like a wraith, a thin-lipped smile greasing across
her face. Jan gave her a contemptuous
glare. “Maybe you’re not as smart as I
thought.” “Or perhaps I
am. It was something you said yourself
Lomona. About me throwing away a
fortune. And you’re right, of
course. I would spend the rest of my
life looking over my shoulder.” He
turned to Ol-oria. “But then, I would
be able to afford the very best protection credits can buy.” Jan blew out a long breath as he saw the trigger fingers
nudge towards activation. Gotta make my move now, last chance and
out. Jan gripped Lysaar
by her head tails, swinging her towards him and held her around the neck,
constricting her airway and squeezing tightly. Shocked, the air pushed out of her, she
weakly grabbed his arm to release the pressure but found no purchase and
began to lose the strength in her legs.
Fender, a look of disbelief on his face, gave Jan a quizzical look. “What in the
five fire rings are you doing?” Jan spat his reply through gritted teeth, renewing his
grip on Lysaar as she perched herself on the tips of her toes. He gave Fender a fiery glare. “Now you listen
to me and you listen good. You had your chance to get out of this, but
you ignored it. That’s fine, your
funeral. But I’m not going down over
some small-time crook that got lucky but didn’t know when the deck was
stacked against him.” He began to
back-peddle, dragging Lysaar with him and motioning for Latti to follow. “You try and nail me, then you hit the
girl, and she works for Jabba. So me, Tellex and the girl are walking out of here.” Jan gave the two Trandoshans a quick glance. “You and your two stuffed suits are gonna
drops the blasters and let us go.” Fender allowed an amused smile to crack the side of his
mouth as Ol-oria stepped forward. “And why would I
do that?” Jan gave the arena of Monument Plaza a wide stare. “Because right
now we’re being watched. Right now
there are Black Sun agents monitoring our every move. And Black Sun is in with the Empire. You may not have remembered but this is
Imperial Centre. And the Empire ain’t
squeamish about public massacres.” He
curled a nostril at Fender. “So, the
Hardball’s in your court. Do we stick
to the agreement, or does everyone here die tonight?” Fender looked at Jan, Ol-oria and the fast-fading form of
Lysaar in turn and stepped forward, placing his hands on the gun arms of the
two suited Trandoshans. He paused,
regarding Jan for a final time. “Go. Tell the Hutt and his master you
accomplished your mission. But know
this smuggler. I intend to make Setnin
mine. I may have been thwarted in the
Core, but the Mid-Rim is a vast arena.
Glann Cipple has had it his own way for too long. I intend to change things.” Jan nodded and slowly released his grip on Lysaar. She rubbed her neck and gave Jan a venomous
glare, but held her tongue. Jan didn’t
look at her, but locked eyes with Fender. “Just make sure
that map is a memory.” Fender gave Jan a quizzical look as Lomona turned and
began to walk away, Latti assisting Lysaar as the three of them left Monument
Plaza behind and exited the scene. “That’s gonna leave
a bruise.” Jan finished applying the
derma cream to Lysaar’s neck and sat back in his seat. “It’s high neck
sweaters for you from now on.” Lysaar adjusted her top and wiped her hands on her combat
jeans as she placed the jar on the tabletop.
She crossed her legs and eyed Jan closely. “Did you know
what you were doing when you almost choked me to death?” Jan glanced at Latti who was engrossed in the latest
Chancai Express and smiled as his friend raised his eyebrows in amusement,
acknowledging the conversation. Jan
turned back to Lysaar. “Sweetheart, if
I ever knew what I was doing then I’d be dangerous. And as it is I’m pretty damn lethal.” He gave her a warm grin and stood to his
feet. “Do you think Fender’s wiped the
map yet?” “Definitely. The threats you made would’ve turned a
Bantha white.” Lysaar glanced at
Latti. “Your friend’s a good liar.” “The best.” Jan rolled his eyes. “Gee,
thanks. I don’t know what’s worse,
compliments from him or flattery from you.” Lysaar moved across the room to a desktop that housed an
inlaid computer screen. She activated
the display, scrolling through a long list of details. Jan watched in silence. After a minute he cleared his throat. “By the way,
hope I didn’t blow your cover. That choke
manoeuvre was the first thing that came to mind that didn’t involve me being
toasted.” Lysaar shook her head, not turning to face him. “Not a problem,
it won’t affect things too much. I can
just as easily wear a mask. Besides,
Coruscant’s a big city. And you don’t
think Lysaar’s my real name, do you?” Jan smiled and shook his head. “No, but it sure
is a pretty one.” Lysaar couldn’t resist a smile of her own. “Okay, two
things. I contacted my field
supervisor earlier and she relayed the news back to Tatooine.” Jan furrowed his brow and moved to join her by the
screen. “And what has
Jabba had to say about all this?” Lysaar turned and eyed Jan closely. “Not much. He’s disappointed the map is gone, but he
knew that a fight to own it would lead to a major gang war and nobody needs
that right now.” She scrolled down the
page further. “And we’ve got
confirmation that the map and the computer that housed it have been
destroyed. Looks like you’ve managed
to avert a disaster Captain Lomona.” Latti looked up again as Jan folded his arms and smiled
his smuggest grin. “Well, every now
and then I’m afflicted by genius.” “There is one
thing Jabba wants to know.” “And what’s
that?” Lysaar turned fully towards Jan and folded her own arms. “When you went for that walk around the
Plaza. What exactly did you say to Fender that made him back off?” Jan had no intention of answering that particular
question any time soon. The smuggler
cleared his throat and gave Latti a look that indicated it was time to
depart. Jan placed his hands on
Lysaars shoulders and looked her square in the eye. “It’s been a
pleasure working with you. Maybe we’ll
cross paths again sometime.” Lysaar half smiled. “I doubt
it. It’s a big galaxy.” Jan Lomona looked out of the window at the midnight
Coruscant skyline and sighed. “True. But I think it just got a bit smaller.” The Crusader
screamed through hyperspace on a weaving route back towards the Setnin
Sector. Aboard, Jan and Latti both sat
in silent thought, the swirls of hyperspace flitting past the thick
rectangular window. At the rear of the
small cockpit Jans two droids Aurran and Troopie
busied themselves with operational activities, the old stock light requiring
constant attention and repair. Jan finished
a glass of water and placed it on the console, checking his chrono for the
time. “We should be
back in Setnin this time tomorrow.”
Jan waited for a reply from his friend, who had been and remained
strangely quiet during the journey.
“Everything alright?” “I’m not
sure.” Replied Latti, fixing his stare
on hyperspace outside. “This whole
mission has had me bamboozled from the start.” “I know what you
mean. Why Jabba would send someone
like me to deal with Fender. I don’t know, seems kind of weird.” Latti nodded and shifted his legs off the console as
Aurran moved past to attend to the navigational systems. “Yeah, apart
from the obvious Setnin connections.
But Jabba hires other guys from Setnin, and ones with more
experience.” Latti frowned. “So why you?” “If I might
interject, perhaps it is due to Master Jans
propensity for talking his way out of situations.” Aurran added, turning to the two of them as
he finished his work. “I have noticed
that where possible Master Jan talks through situations rather than fight
through them. Clearly Jabba the Hutt
felt that was appropriate for the situation.
After all, you were on Coruscant” Jan paused, thinking about what his old friend had
said. Latti nodded and pointed at the
old droid. “That’s a good
point. And if Jabba knew that, so did
Fender. So I guess your little choke
hold on Lysaar threw Fender for a loop.” “Maybe.” Jan held his tongue for a moment, not sure
of what he was going to say next.
Truth was he wasn’t lying when he had said to Lysaar back in her
Coruscant apartment that he wasn’t prepared to die for Jabba. Not only that, he wasn’t prepared to die
for anyone. He was twenty-two, with a long life and
career ahead of him and seeing those Trandoshan guns aimed squarely at him
forced him to realise that fact with crystal clarity. If the situation in Monument Plaza had
deteriorated any more, Lysaar would have
taken that blaster bolt, not him. For
a man with immunity to alcohol it was a sobering thought. “Think Jabba
will hire us again?” asked Latti, tossing a Cockon into his mouth. Jan closed his eyes and rested his head
against the headrest of the pilot’s chair. “It’s not Jabba
that bothers me, it’s Glann. If
Fender’s angry enough to stir things up back home then it won’t take much for
Glann to figure I was the guy who caused it.
And given that Glann hates me working for Jabba, all I can see is a
whole heap of trouble.” “Then maybe you
should be pointing this ship in the opposite direction.” Latti gave Jan a flat stare. “Why walk into trouble when you know it’ll
take the time to come looking for you?” “Because the
last thing I’m gonna do is leave Setnin just when it’s getting
interesting.” Jan’s nostrils flared as
he found a new determination. “Glann
can shout at me all he wants, but he’ll need guys like me more than
ever.” Jan Lomona grinned again. “Fender may have put Setnin on the map, but
this trip has put me on the
map too. This is a chance to make a
name for myself, and I ain’t about to run away from it.” “Fair
enough.” Latti fell silent for a few
minutes before turning back to Jan.
“By the way, did you get Lysaars comm. number?” “What do you
think? I’ve got more numbers in my
little black book than the galactic directory.” Eight Sexes I Don’t
Understand
2003 short story by Mark Newbold Seven
years before Episode IV - A New Hope Histories – Set seven years before the Battle of Yavin and a year before Jan Lomona traded the Crusader for the Berone Sunrise, this Mark Newbold tale tells the story of Jan’s only trip
to Coruscant.
On a mission for Jabba the Hutt, Jan has to deal with Gale Fender, a roleplaying character created by Jason Brown. Taking the story title from Jans RPG
character sheet quote, this tale shows Jabba entrusting Jan with an important
mission, but also realising one of Jans strengths –
the ability to talk his way through situations.
Cast of Characters
Jan
Lomona Latti
Tellex Lysaar
Shenn Gale
Fender Eneira
Ol-oria Maarssa Abbraynee
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