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T'Rellers Run 2000 short story by Mark Newbold Eight years before Episode IV - A New Hope Then Jan
Lomona unclipped his blaster from its holster and slowly drew it from the
leather. He knew he’d got the drop on
the hired goons in the open space between the cargo crates, his giant frame
hidden deep within the depths of shadows that pooled around the bay. All it required was a triple volley of stun
shots and the job was as good a finished.
Load the ten crates onto the load lifter and drop them into his ship
the Crusader. Simple. He
glanced down and prepared to step out of his hiding spot when he felt a tug
on his belt, and then a small figure leap onto his back and throw a hand
across his mouth. With a frown of
confusion he leaned back and grabbed behind him, swinging his assailant
around and slamming it into the crates, its feet dangling a meter above the
ground. Lomona squinted in the reduced
light and almost yelled in surprise. “Darwyn?” He whispered in shock. “Haven’t I taught you anything?” Darwyn T’Reller rasped as she wrapped her
legs around Jan’s hips to ease the throttling grip of the A-desandian. Jan embraced her gently and smothered her
in a tight hug, Darwyn returning it with warmth. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your
reflexes.” “Sorry you had to find out like that. You okay?” T’Reller
dropped to the floor silently. “Fine.”
She loosened her collar to reveal a leather-bound steel neck
protector, moulded to the shape of her own slender neck. “Birthday gift to myself.” “Nice.
I’m glad I didn’t punch you in the chest. So what the hell are you doing here? This place is dangerous.” Darwyn
checked around the edge of the crate.
The three goons were still gathered in a small circle, sharing lewd
jokes and smokes. She raised her eyes
and spotted two more in the skylight above.
Just like I thought. “Saving your butt. I’ve told you about this before. Check the exits. Keep a count of your enemies and most
important of all – “ “ – Make sure the
restroom is clear, I’ve got it. Look
Darwyn, there’s only three of them.
Two seconds max and I’m out.” T’Reller
pointed upwards at the skylight. “Just try it Jan. You’ll be Bantha Gumbo in no time. I’ll take the skylight, you take the
goons. Give me…” She checked her chrono. “Two minutes and then make your move. Got it?” Jan
smiled as he raised his blaster to the side of his face. “No problems, teach.” Darwyn
T’Reller scurried away through the crates and towards the ladder that wound
its way up the wall to the roof above.
The green skies of Attricia threatened snowfall as she stealthily
released the catch and opened the panel to get onto the roof. Neither of the goons noticed her slight figure
lower the door and scamper behind the chimneystack. She checked her blaster, counted down the
seconds and aimed. THUMP THUMP. The
first man slumped to the floor in silence, not even a look of surprise
reaching his face. The second
staggered, pirouetted and tripped… Through
the skylight. Jan
had time to check his watch and get his finger into the trigger guard when
the body crashed through the glass and hammered into one of the surprised
trio. Alarms began to ring out
throughout the bay and Jan swore loudly as he blasted the other two men and
ran towards the cargo lifters. Darwyn
shook her head in disbelief as she returned to the hatch and began sliding
down the ladder, her feet steadying herself as she descended. Jan heard the scrape of her boots as she
dropped. “Please tell me that was one of those neat
tricks you were going to show me.” “Lesson number 158 – nobody’s perfect.” “Tell me after class, I’m a bit
busy.” Jan grabbed the nearest crate
and hauled it onto his shoulder. He
quick-stepped it over to the load lifter that lay under a tarpaulin, pulled
the sheet free and deposited the first crate.
Darwyn checked the far end of the long bay. They had company. “Jan, hurry it up. Five new friends are about to say hello.” Lomona
pulled himself into the seat of the lifter and keyed it into motion. He steered it to the remaining crates and
in a well-rehearsed manoeuvre lifted the remaining nine crates onto the load
lifter and motioned for Darwyn. “Come on!
The Crusader’s this way.” T’Reller
ran and jumped onto the moving lifter as it accelerated past and grabbed onto
Jans arm. The five men’s numbers
doubled as they ran towards the departing lifter. Jan turned and cursed. Lifters weren’t designed to outrun
anything; they were designed for cargo carrying. And the Crusader was half a kilometre away. Jan
turned to Darwyn. “What do you think? Try and make it to the ship or stay and
fight?” Darwyn
raised her eyebrows in thought. Jan
kept an eye on the narrow path between crates ahead and the other on his
passenger behind. They were making
ground, but at a slugs pace. As he saw
it they had a choice – fight ten men, possibly with reinforcements coming or
leave the cargo and risk the wrath of his new employer Glann Cipple. Some
choice. “You’re a good listener Jan,
and I enjoy passing on my advice. So
listen up.” Jan
waited intently as they chewed the ground, the footsteps of their pursuers
getting ever louder. “Well then?” “Sometimes you get the Wampa and sometimes
the Wampa gets you. Let’s bail.” They
leaped out of the cargo lifter, Jan twisting the lever and taking it into a
thirty-meter high stack of crates. The
boxes spilled onto the floor, wreckage jamming into the crates and causing a
domino effect both forwards and backwards.
Jan and Darwyn heard the panicked yells of the men as the crates fell
inwards into the narrow canyon and smiled in satisfaction as the footsteps
stopped. Jan paused. “Nice choice. We can still carry some of these crates
back to the ship.” Darwyn
shook her head. “If you take some of the crates back he’ll know you’ve
screwed up. Take none back and…” Jan
hovered in anticipation. “And what?” “And maybe he’ll think you had a plan.” “And how does that help me? I’m finished either way.” Darwyn
took his hand and began to move towards the Crusader, a satisfied smile on her face. “Jan, nobody has seen us. And listen to those crates crash. Now tell me this trip was a waste of
time. If there’s anything left of this
warehouse by the time you get back to Amagad then I’m a Brevnian
Poppleworm.” “Is that good?” Darwyn
turned back and cocked an ear at the crashing crates and echoing screams as
the snows began to fall “Not if you’re a Brevnian
Poppleworm.” “Ten crates.” Glann
Cipple let the words hang in the air as he perused Lomona’s report. Jan stood two metres from his desk, a
nervous sweat dampening the forehead of the teenage smuggler. He edged a cautious glance at Cipples
assistant Melm, the chief of the Shadow Warriors. Jan knew that just beyond the doorway at
the rear of the room, hidden in the wall like embossed paper, stood Shadow
Warriors, trained on Ferrerea and ready to kill at a seconds notice for their
master. Melm cleared his throat and
Lomona waited for words but none came.
Cipple raised his head and looked at the A-desandian. “Ten crates of Gista Spice. At today’s prices your freighter would just
about cover the costs. But,” He stood
and moved around the desk. “The
virtual destruction of the spice warehouse on Attricia is an unexpected
bonus.” Jan
frowned, a streak of sweat falling. “But if you wanted the place wiped out,
why have I been going there so often to pick up stock?” Cipple
smiled. Ah, the naiveté of
youth. “Because despite the fact that the
warehouse has been a thorn in my side for many years, so many other operators
use the facility that it would have been…unwise to make my disaffection for
the place known to others. And
destroying it would have marked my operation as a target.” Jan shook his head in confusion. “So by ending the operation you have not
only stopped a supply through the sector to my enemies but removed a
troublesome thorn. Your report says
you were not spotted.” Jan
nodded slowly. “That’s right. We took out the guards, tried to make a run
for it but couldn’t get enough speed in the lifter, so – “ “We?” Glann snapped. His expression of satisfaction
evaporated. “Who is this
we?” Lomona
cursed his sloppiness. He’d agreed
with Darwyn not to mention her involvement in this or any other operation she
helped him in. Strictly formal, nothing more.
Business gets in the way of good relationships. He lowered his head and rose with a smile on his
face. A typically Lomona smile. “Did I say we?
Sorry, I meant I.
Me. On my own, just like you
ordered.” He waited for Cipples
expression of anger to depart and for him to return to his seat. He did the latter only. “Anyhow, I ditched the lifter into the
crates and I figured, well, if it tips them at the right angle it should
knock them back and take out – “ “You got lucky. It’s alright Lomona; even I sometimes have
reason to thank the random elements of luck.
The warehouse destruction was such a random act. Your not being spotted was one of skill.” He fixed Jan with a serious glare. “And it’s that act of skill which has saved
your neck. This time.” Jan
smiled and released a breath. That was close. “The day
you’re good enough to pull my fat out of the fire is the day I’ll hang my
flying gloves up and retire.” Jan raised a cocky eyebrow. “Sorry
tech, I just can’t see that. You give
up the lanes? I doubt it.” Darwyn nodded and sipped form her glass. “Believe
it. You prove to me that you’ve
learned all that you can from me and you can shoot me if you ever see me on
the lanes again.” Jan raised his glass to hers and they chinked in
the subdued light of the tapcafe. “I might
just hold you to that.” “You’d
better.” Jan swigged the last of his Duarga back and
motioned to the waiter for a refill.
Darwyn shook her head at the offer of a top up, her glass of Flameout
still half full. They had agreed to
meet here on Wennicas after their escape from Attricia the week before. Darwyn was pleased that Jan had learned so
many tricks and moves from her, and Jan was simply glad to be alive. He leaned back into his seat and swung his
feet onto an empty chair opposite.
Darwyn watched the young smuggler with a mixed expression of amusement
and admiration. For such a young man
he carried an air of someone who knew far more than he actually did. Luck would no doubt play a massive part in
his life. Luck and a capacity for good
fortune that had already served him well.
But T’Reller believed that every plan, every decision should have a
redundancy. And skill and knowledge
was the best back up plan she knew. “So
what’s next for you Jan? More work for
Cipple?” He nodded and sipped from his glass. “Yeah, a
run out to Vontoon. Some pirates have
been terrorising the locals and disrupting trade in the area. Me and a few other
guys are going to check it out. It’s
not exactly my style of work but I need the experience.” He grinned.
“But you already know that.” “What I
don’t know could fill one cargo ship.
What I do know
could fill the other one. Just
remember – stay alert and play to your strengths. Don’t try to do what the other guy does
just to be smart. You have skills
other people don’t have, and they have skills you don’t
have. Play it clever and you’ll go a
long way.” “Well,
of course I already have my plans to be a living legend but do you really think
I could be a good smuggler?” “You
have the potential to be as good as you want to be. Just don’t get cocky,” Jan raised an eyebrow. “Okay,
don’t get too cocky, listen and learn and you’ll be a great smuggler.” Jan sunk some more Duarga. “But
will it make me a better person?” He
added flippantly. Darwyn shook her head in amusement. “I’m a
teacher, not a miracle worker.” Now
She can’t take much more of this. Darwyn
T’Reller threw all her weight into the control lever and hauled her small
freighter in a tight circle, using as much will power as skill. The compact vessels engines screamed their
annoyance at her manoeuvre, systems screaming their defiance at the
foolishness of the move but T’Reller ignored the buckling bulkheads and
whining metal. After all, she had
little choice. If any of the four
vessels that had been tailing her through the Soluman Delta Gulf for the past
eight hours caught up with her she would be as good as dead. Better that than
captured…
The debris belt lay only a few more minutes ahead
at maximum sublight speeds. Make it there and Darwyn knew she could
lose her pursuers. Her knowledge of
the prime hiding places within the Setnin Sector was unsurpassed – after all,
with a vessel as underpowered as the T’Rellers Run she needed every trick
she could lay claim to. And hiding in
small places was one of them. The first spray of metallic shards splashed
against her shields and T’Reller gripped the controls, a façade of steely
concentration descending across her face.
Buffeted and rocked she checked her shields, did a backwards scanner
sweep and accelerated into the dangers of the field. Sticking closely to her tail her pursuers
followed… “Was
that something on the scanner?” “I’m not
sure Master Lomona. I’ll check.” Jan
grinned as he threw his wet towel onto the empty co-pilots chair as his aged
droid assistant Aurran chunted past him. The smile faded as he glanced out of the
window. “Hold
on!” He yelled as he lurched at the
controls, his bathrobe falling away as he hopped into the chair and swung the
Crusader
back
and up to avoid the incoming vessels that were bearing down upon him as he
lay at the edge of the debris field, waiting for his ships systems to cool
after yet another encounter with the many pirates that laced the rim of the
Soluman Delta Gulf. The T’Rellers
Run
pursued by four undetermined vessels blasted past and over into the depths of
the belt, their after wash buffeting the squat and bulky Crusader. Lomona curse in ancient A-desandian and
swung the ship around as Aurran steadied himself against the wall and aimed
his photoreceptors on his master. “What do
you intend to do sir?” Jan shook his head and let out a long breath. “The
first of many stupid things I’ll do today.” Aurran took the co-pilots seat and agreed with
the assessment in silence. Many
stupid things – no doubts there. Engines roaring, the Crusader blasted in pursuit
after the five ships. Darwyn thanked her luck as she’d glided over the
familiar freighter that was perched on the edge of the asteroid field. About time something went my way. She steered around her first obstacle – a massive
cargo vessel, long since ripped apart by unknown foes that
was fixed at the edge of the field, and her first port of call. Using the giant ship as a shield she slung
low, hugging the pitted surface of the vessel and weaving through its mini
metal canyons. Three of her pursuers
followed her down, the fourth staying in a higher orbit in case she did an
about turn and came back the way she’d come.
After all, there was no way she would
escape. Not if her followers had
anything to do with it. Darwyn could see the engines hone into view as
she kept a low profile, the three-kilometre ship disappearing beneath her
feet by the second. Laser fire began
to erupt behind her, honing in and marking their target – her. Come on Jan.
If you’re going to prove to me that you can learn anything then show
me. Preferably right now. Almost as if in answer to her silent prayer the
lead ship that was zeroing in on her tail disintegrated into scattered atoms
and flaked the battered hull below. The Crusader rolled belly up and
opened fire on the second ship, clipping the starboard wing and sending it
into an irretrievable tumble towards the outer fins of the massive ship below. It slammed into a long dead engine and
twisted its way towards obsolescence.
Darwyn smiled and eased her grip on the controls slightly. Well-done Jan.
Just like I showed you. “Darwyn.
Lucky I happened to be in the area so I could rescue you.” Darwyn smiled and flicked the toggle on her
receiver. “Don’t
get too cocky Lomona. We’re not out of
this yet.” Jan Lomona grinned and wiped the trickles of
water that were running from his still damp hair away from his face. “Speak
for yourself. I’m not, but you soon
will be. Remember our agreement?” Time seemed to stand still for Darwyn T’Reller as
the last of the ancient cargo vessel streaked beneath and deep, inky space
filled the ground beneath her feet once again. Our agreement. What was
it I said? `The day you’re good enough
to pull my fat out of the fire is the day I’ll hang my flying gloves up and
retire.’ Has it really come so soon? She checked her scanners to see the last two
pursuers swing away in opposite directions, one fleeing a proton torpedo that
inexorably closed the gap down to its destruction and the other twisting
amidst a hail of laser fire from the Crusader, succeeding until a
deft shot ruptured the engine compartment and the ship split along a seam,
billowing its occupants and insides into space. Darwyn sighed. Jan was right. The time had come, as per their
agreement. All of her knowledge, her
skills, her streetwise savvy – Jan Lomona had absorbed it, and more. With a smile she suspected that the
towering A-desandian had already known much of what she did. One didn’t gain the accolades and success
that he had just by pure luck. But
like her other protégé Petrol Merritch, Jan had surpassed her level. For both the sky was the limit, and after
all, twenty-five years on the lanes wasn’t bad going for anyone. And it wasn’t as if she was short of a
credit or two. “Maybe
I’ll open that bar on Mos Banely.” “Nah,
way too dull for a free spirit like you.” Darwyn nodded to herself. “You’re probably right.” She checked her charts to orient
herself. “Foron’s
not too far away. Head there and meet
me by the Chantra Mines. There’s
something I’ve got to give you.” Jan
smiled and began keying in the co-ordinates.
A cool
breeze blew through the undergrowth as both the T’Rellers Run and the Crusader
landed softly on the surface of Foron.
The legendary Chantra Mines were a hazy blur on the horizon, and the
spot T’Reller had chosen showed the depths of her knowledge of Setnin. Twenty-five years of constant running, for
every gangleader throughout the sector had compiled a veritable database of
information. And now it was over. Jan
exited his ship and strolled easily across the short distance between their
ships, Darwyn leaving her ship a few moments later carrying a case beneath
her arm. They met, Jan reaching an arm
around her shoulders and squeezing her to him. Darwyn smiled sadly and looked up at the
tall younger man, the breeze blowing her brown hair away from her
elfin-featured face. “How long have we known each other Jan?” “Oh, about four years I guess.” “And you remember where?” Jan
raised his eyebrows and grinned, looking away into the distance. “Chancai.
Farlees Ballroom and Pick-up Stop on Level
19. I saw that you were alone so I
offered to buy you a drink.” Darwyn
frowned. “You were hitting on me Jan.” Lomona
glanced down at her, a grin plastered across his face. “So sue me if I prefer older women.” “I’m old enough to be your mother.” “And your point is?” Darwyn
shook her head in amusement and kneeled to lower the box to the mossy
ground. Jan kneeled beside her, his
face serious to echo the masked emotion Darwyn was radiating. She paused as she coded in the password to
open the box and fixed Lomona with a regretful look. “I hope you realise that no-one has ever
seen what’s in this case. Twenty-five
years of information I’ve compiled.
Runs, routes, places to avoid, places to hide. Lot’s of stuff.” She placed her hands on her thighs and
straightened her back. “I want you to
have it.” Jan
blinked and drew a sharp breath. I wasn’t expecting this. I
wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d have gone cold on me, or backed out on
our `agreement’. Or propositioned
me. But…this. It’s a lifetime’s work. Jan slowly shook his head. “You don’t have to retire you know. What I said, it was just talk.” “No Jan.
You were right. I’ve done well,
lasting as long as I have. I’ve still
got my health, some credits stashed aside – “ “Your looks.” Interjected Jan. “ – my looks,
thank you. Maybe this is the right
time to get out. Make way for young
guys like you and Petrol.” Lomona
bristled visibly at the mention of Petrol Merritchs
name but kept his silence. That Darwyn
also gave him the best of her wisdom niggled at him but he’d never said
anything about it, and she’d never offered an explanation. “So, what do you want me to do?” Darwyn
frowned. “What do you mean?” “Well, this is the gift of a
lifetime. You wouldn’t just hand it
over without asking something of me.
So name it – what do you want me to do?” Darwyn
turned her head to the left and looked at her beloved ship. Jan watched her as she did so, a wistful
face descending across her beautiful features. What a teacher you’ve been. I’m going to miss you.
She turned back to Jan. “I need a lift back to Tatooine.” “Sure, but what about the T’Rellers?” She
smiled as she elevated herself back to her feet and looked down at Jan. “I want you to sell her. Change the documents, give her another
name. It’s time I went home, back to
the Outer Rim and my family. There are
people I haven’t seen for a quarter of a century. I’ve got some catching up to do.” Jan
stood and thrust his hands into his pockets.
“Consider it done.” He checked the skies. Thunderclouds were gathering above. “We’d better get going.” Darwyn
T’Reller nodded once and turned back to her ship. Time
for change. T'Rellers Run
2000 short story by Mark Newbold Eight years before Episode IV - A New Hope Histories – Originally to be written
by Louis Turfrey and based upon his original ideas this shows Jan Lomona before the Berone
Sunrise
when he was barely in his twenties and still on a steep learning curve. Cast of
Characters Jan
Lomona Darwyn
T'Reller Glann
Cipple Melm
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