Three years after Episode IV – A New Hope

The air was smoky and some would say dense, much like some of the denizens of this hole. It stung Ryath Centaurs eyes, and as he entered Zythlies Dropout Parlour he wiped the moisture from his brow.

Casting a quick glance around the semi-filled bar Ryath recognised a few of the faces and life forms around him. One or two acknowledged him but he saw no friends. Still, he thought to himself as he headed towards the bar that’s what happens in this line of business. Most of your friends are in prison, dead, in prison wishing they were dead or on the run from someone who wants them dead.

This last thought made Ryath look around the bar once again. Some fanatical religious radicals requested his head on a platter after he’d half destroyed their palace. Bad enough, but these religious radicals were the dreaded Janos Executioners.

“Duarga.” said Ryath to the barman.

The barman nodded and handed Centaur a glass of the rich liquid.

“Purple?” frowned Ryath, twirling the glass in his hand. Everyone knew Duarga was supposed to be ruby red.

The barman shrugged.

“New batch in – cheaper, but it’s good stuff.”

“Then why are you still charging the old price?”

The barman cast a glance down for a few seconds mulling over a swift reply. When one didn’t come he headed across the bar to serve someone else. Ryath shook his head and walked over to a vacant table.

Not long after he’d seated himself a tall man stalked into the bar. He was clothed head to toe in black, and his black hair, brushed to one side was unkempt. His trench coat hid whatever weapons he had stashed beneath, but Ryath could make out the butt of a hold out blaster in his boot.

The man looked in Ryath’s direction and a momentary flicker of acknowledgement flashed across his face. Ryath nodded, but the mans face was already drawn, set like death spying on his next victim.

The noise in the bar dropped to a quiet quivering murmur as the dark shadow of the black-clad man headed to the far side of the room and came to a stop by one of the tables. The man there, pale as snow, looked slowly up.

“You lied to me Jarin,” said the man in black. His voice was quiet but brimming with menace.

“I –I’m s-sorry,” Stammered the other, “I’d, he’d of…”

The man in black leaned in close grabbed the others neck in his left hand and slammed his face into the table. There was a crash as a glass shook onto the floor. With careful deliberation the muzzle of a blaster carbine was pressed against the temple of the mans bleeding head.

“Now tell me again where Mohala is, or you’ll be carrying that secret to your grave.”

There was a pause as sweat formed and rolled down the mans face. The clicking of the carbine to the kill setting was the final nudge he needed.

“Southbay area, in a derelict near warehouse sixteen. He’ll have four men with him,” sighed the man, almost despairingly.

The man in black yanked his prey backwards, kicked out the legs of his chair and sent him sprawling across the floor.

“If I find out that you’ve lied to me...” The threat hung in the air.

Finally the man in black holstered his carbine and stalked towards the doors. In the space of a second the man on the floor screamed out.

“I’ll kill you!” He drew his pistol, as Ryath stood and yelled.

“Goah!” Centaur went for his gun, but as he did so the man was flung across the floor – dead. Holes in his gun hand heart and head smoked with a chilling finality.

Goah Galletti turned his smoking gun in Ryath’s direction as Centaur stood to his full height and looked squarely at the assassin. Their eyes locked for a brief second, but that second was a battlefield as the two wills locked with each other. Ryath rested his foot on his stool and replaced his pistol into his boot holster. Galletti kept his carbine levelled.

“This is my concern Centaur. If I want your help, I’ll ask for it.”

Just as Centaur was forming some kind of retort Galletti turned and headed out of the bar. He passed a giant A-desandian smuggler entering the Dropout Parlour.

“Hi Goah.”

“Lomona,” was all Galletti said in reply.

On heading over towards Ryaths table Lomona nodded towards the body.

“Trouble Ry?”

“Goah’s on another job I guess. Clocking up kills quicker than Feese.”

“Yeah, well he gets more like Feese every day. Which makes Glann Cipple a happy boy.”

Ryath grinned.

“And to think, he’s your occasional smuggling partner.”

“Lucky me.” They both smiled. “He sure did the business on Soluman.”

“Didn’t we all?”

Jan nodded and moved to the bar.

“I need a drink” He caught the attention of the barman. He turned back to Ryath. “Ryath old buddy, have I got a deal for you.”

Jan Lomona smiled his Jan Lomona smile and Ryath Centaur wondered where he’d gone wrong with his life.

And into the Fire

1991 story by Paul Squire

Three years after Episode IV – A New Hope

Histories – Written at the height of the RPG sessions on the 25^th May 1991, And into the Fire is a perfect example of the kind of danger and trouble the main characters got themselves into as a result of their reckless riots through the local sectors.

Cast of Characters

Ryath Centaur

Jarin

Goah Galletti

Jan Lomona