by Paul Danner
It had been a really bad day.
Sconn sipped the Venaarian Cringe-Ale and one of his eyes was forced closed by the bitter taste of the yellowish liquid. He wondered if the “cringe” was supposed to come from the drink itself, or the obscene amount of credits the wake-up juice cost. That’s the price you pay for wild nights, he thought.
With a shrug, he took another swallow and scanned the Binary Bar’s late afternoon crowd. Sconn noted that he merged seamlessly with it, which for a thief was a good thing, especially on an Imperially held world like Venaari. If nobody could remember your face, they couldn’t give the authorities a good description …
Sconn prided himself on his skill as a social chameleon, but at the same time it annoyed him. The thief enjoyed being the center of attention, preferring to stand out, especially in the faceless parade of fearful drones that the Empire so enjoyed turning the local populaces into. At the present time, however, he could ill afford nonconformity. The current lack of business was making his credits disappear faster than a an Imperial slaver at a Wookiee family reunion.
Sconn was also running out of time. The rent on his apartment was due by the next morning and his Devaronian landlord didn’t take excuses — just solid Imperial credits. Sconn needed a job and he needed one fast …
“Times are tough,” he whispered into his mug, “when the greatest thief in this whole sector can’t find work.”
Sconn glanced up at the high ceiling of the Binary Bar and stared at what he was considering to be his last resort. The thief wasn’t crazy about stealing part of the decor from one of his favorite watering holes, but when times are tough … He studied the old swoop hanging from the quartet of duracables and began his appraisal. Mobquet Nebulon-R Racer, most likely. The swoop would definitely need its repulsorlift unit and turbothrust engine replaced, but even in its current shape, the vehicle would net him at least 500 credits. Maybe a thousand or more if he could get his hands on cheap parts. Expertly the thief began surveying the room, trying to figure out his best route of entry and escape should desperation force him to return after hours.
That’s when he noticed her, slipping in from the street and into the crowded dive. She glanced about like a wary cat as she maneuvered to the bar. The woman seemed young, about Sconn’s age, and wore a cloak that hid most of her curves.
Sconn soon found that he couldn’t take his eyes off her, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. Sure, she was pretty, but he’d certainly seen prettier. The thief just couldn’t explain it. The dark-haired beauty just had a certain air of mystery about her. There was something going on. And if there was anything Sconn was familiar with, it was intrigue.
She sat at the bar, but looked uncomfortable, taking sidelong glances at the beings around her. She’s not a dive-hopper, Sconn reasoned. The bartender approached and slid a mug of clear liquid over to her. As she reached for it, the overweight Venaarian gave an almost imperceptible nod. Tossing a few credits onto the bar, she took a sip of the mug and walked over to a corner table. The one she selected was removed from the center of activity and well-shadowed.
Sconn pursed his lips, and this time it wasn’t a reaction to the Cringe-Ale. Something was definitely up. The bartender was busy, yet quickly had a drink for the girl. One she didn’t even order. The familiarity might be explained, though — the girl could be a regular, but her body language at the bar just didn’t support that scenario. Besides, Sconn had a feeling she wasn’t a recurring patron, and his feelings usually kept him alive.
The thief’s interest was piqued. Two of his favorite things, women and mysteries, had just surfaced right in front of him. Unfortunately, that’s when the woman noticed him staring at her. As their gazes locked, Sconn saw her eyes widen a bit, as if she was worried that he was somebody who shouldn’t have seen her. Thinking quickly, the thief flashed his best grin and winked at her.
Relief swiftly crossed the woman’s face, and as she looked down at her drink, Sconn swore he saw her lips twitch into a smile. As Sconn started to consider the possibilities, chaos erupted in the bar.
A young Venaarian man burst inside, running at full speed and knocking over two customers in his hurry. A fresh blaster burn marred his right shoulder. His eyes, wild with fear, quickly scanned the room.
Sconn saw the beauty look up and watched as a look of shock spread across her face. The thief also noted that the bartender wore an expression similar to the girl’s.
As the wild-eyed man opened his mouth to yell something, the sizzling burst of a blaster bolt cut off the sound. He was thrown forward like a rag doll. The young man landed atop an occupied table, sending food and drinks crashing to the floor.
Five stormtroopers, their white armor gleaming, followed the bolt inside. Each one brandished a standard issue blaster rifle except for the leader, who carried a powerful BlasTech T-15. Sconn figured it was the heavy T-15 snub rifle that was responsible for sending the Venaarian on his short-lived aerial excursion.
The leader’s crackling voice filtered through his helmet. “Nobody move! This establishment is officially sealed by the Empire!”
Most of the surprised customers obeyed, turning their fearful glances away from the troopers. The bartender quickly ducked down behind the bar, which Sconn considered a smart move, until the man stood back up with a grenade launcher.
“Go!” screamed the heavy Venaarian as he fired into the midst of the stormtroopers. The young woman bolted from her booth and headed for the door leading to the kitchen.
Sconn dove from his chair, ducking under the table, as the grenade sailed overhead. The thief quickly reached under his cloak, feeling that familiar silver handle …
The stun grenade exploded with a deafening cry, and three of the stormtroopers, as well as a few unfortunate customers, went down.
“Take him! I’ll get the girl!” After barking out his orders, the leader charged forward.
The remaining trooper opened fire, hitting the bar as the Venaarian ducked back down behind it, presumably to reload. Bits of charred metal exploded into the air. Picking the wrong moment to resurface, the bartender took a blaster bolt to the chest and went down with a groan before he could fire off the fresh grenade.
The young woman saw him fall and stopped in her tracks, a look of horror on her face. “Nooo!”
The leader charged her, turning the heavy T-15 rifle towards the unmoving target.
From his vantage point under the table. Sconn looked on. “I’m going to hate myself for this,” he muttered.
With a snap of his wrist, the long silver handle exploded into activity, locking into a two-meter-long staff. With the tap of a hidden switch, both ends of the staff began to crackle and hum with stun energy.
The stormtrooper leader continued to move forward, taking aim at his quarry. The girl looked up just then, as if sensing the danger. Her eyes widened as she waited for the shot that, at that range, would bring her down for good.
It never came.
Moving with lightning speed, the crouched Sconn swung the staff with all his strength, catching the leader in the shins with the weapon. Using the leverage afforded him by his low center of gravity, Sconn drove the staff backwards and up, sending the stormtrooper flipping forward, literally head over heels. The heavy armored figure crashed atop a table with a surprised cry. Unable to support the applied force, the cheap plastic groaned and collapsed in on itself, showering his pristine armor with Angerian Fishak Surprise.
The remaining stormtrooper whirled around, drawing a bead on Sconn. Caught out in the open, the thief knew he had one chance. Sconn lifted his right arm, bending the hand at the wrist. The wide sleeve of his shirt fell back, revealing a silver wrist gauntlet. The condensed particle beam streak
ed high into the air, missing the stormtrooper completely.
The armored warrior chuckled and prepared to fire, but only got as far as lifting his gun when the swoop — previously hanging from the ceiling by the now severed duracables — hit him squarely across the back, driving him to the floor and pinning him there.
Sconn exhaled loudly in relief, then turned to the woman. She was trying to help the fallen bartender, who, to an emotionally unattached eye, was obviously beyond any help.
The dying Venaarian reached up, his fingers grasping the edges of her dark cloak and pulling her close. “Shandria … must get it … to New Republic. Imperative… that… ” The rest was lost to eternity. Tears welled up in Shandria’s eyes and she shut them tight, trying to staunch the flow.
Shaking his head, Sconn ran over to her. “Look, I’m sorry about your friend, but you’ve got to get out of here.”
A blaster bolt suddenly slammed into the wall behind the bar, barely missing Sconn’s head and shattering a large mirror.
“Correction. We’ve got to get out of here.” Sconn grabbed the dazed girl by the arm and dragged her into the kitchen as another flurry of bolts exploded into the bar.
Sconn peeked around the corner, spotting at least a dozen more stormtroopers approaching the entrance in standard cover formation. He dove forward, grabbing the reloaded grenade launcher from next to the bartender’s body. Lifting up, he fired the weapon out the door, then sprinted back into the kitchen as the stun grenade exploded. He was rewarded by a few mechanically filtered screams.
“That should slow ’em down a little,” the thief said as he glanced back around the corner.
The stormtroopers were still coming. With another group of their comrades down, though, the approach was more cautious.
Sconn gently urged her forward. “Head for the back door.”
Shandria flashed him a worried look.
He returned a reassuring grin. “Don’t worry. I’m good at this kind of stuff. We’ll make it.” She still didn’t look overly convinced, so he quickly added, “I promise.”
They sprinted through the messy kitchen, passing a row of storage closets, and headed toward the back door. Sconn slammed his palm against the control panel and the door swung open.
“Wait here. I’ll check it out.” He dove outside, staff raised defensively. Sconn checked one side of the alley. A dead end. The thief turned to examine the other. It led to the street — where 10 stormtroopers were exiting a Venaari strike speeder.
Swallowing hard, Sconn stumbled back, tripping over the row of garbage containers awaiting removal. In the process, he managed to inadvertently knock the door closed. As he turned to pull it back open, he heard the locking mechanism kick in.
“Auto-lock. Great.” He stared at the keys on the panel. “And I have no idea what the code is.”
Inside, Shandria heard stormtroopers approaching. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw them carefully filing into the bar. When she turned back around, the young man who had helped her was gone and the door was shut and locked. She started pounding on it. “Let me out!”
“Let me in!” Sconn’s harried voice echoed from the other side, accompanied by frenzied banging, then a barrage of blaster bolts.
Shandria started fiddling with the control panel, then balled her fists in frustration. “It’s jammed!”
Outside, Sconn, shook his head. “Lovely.” He was being showered by more and more refuse as the troopers blew holes in the garbage containers he was using for cover.
“How did I get myself into this?” The thief shook his head and reached into his carry pouch. After fishing around inside, Sconn pulled out a thin, half-sphere of metal with only a small crimson light marring its surface. “Better overprepared than under the ground.”
He crawled over to the door and attached the half-sphere to the control panel. Sconn rapped his fist sharply on the door. “Get back! Get back!” he screamed.
Sconn dove back into the center of the garbage containers and pulled out a small silver control unit. The thief tapped the button and closed his eyes. The half-sphere exploded in a shower of light. The door swung open.
Sconn grinned in spite of himself, then was horrified to see Shandria stick her head out the door.
“What’s going on?” she demanded to know.
The thief dove forward, barely avoiding being roasted by a volley of blaster bolts, and shoved her and himself back inside, pulling the door closed behind them. “You stick your head out where it doesn’t belong again and you’re liable to get it shot off.”
“Sorry.”
Sconn shrugged, gesturing behind him. “The great white welcoming committee back there kind of rules out that exit.” The thief sighed as he heard the familiar heavy armored footsteps approaching from the other direction. “It looks like we’re trapped.”
Shandria put her hands on her hips and glowered at him. “I thought you said you were good at this.”
Sconn shrugged helplessly.
“This is some rescue.” She glanced around, looking over her shoulder at the storage closets. When she saw the sign that read “Danger — Gravdinian Ale,” she grinned.
Shandria grabbed Sconn by the arm and led him toward the closet. “Come on. We’re getting out of here!”
Sconn pulled the door closed and locked it. He listened at the door for a second then frowned. “They’re coming.”
A small glowlamp flickered weakly, offering poor illumination at best. Sconn stared at the huge containers of ale, which were adorned with a series of large, vented holes near their tops.
He glanced at Shandria. “And you’ve got us cornered.”
“Hand me your staff, will you?”
“What for?”
“You looking forward to an Imperial interrogation?”
The thief reluctantly parted with his staff. “Just be careful with it. It’s one of a kind.” He flashed a self-satisfied grin. “Just like me.”
Shandria took the staff and rolled her eyes.
Sconn glanced around. He saw the warnings posted on the containers and the wall and frowned. “You picked a wonderful spot, too. If they don’t get us, our hiding place will.” The thief shook his head. “We’re sitting mynocks in here.”
“Do you ever do anything but complain?” Shandria was climbing on top of a container. She reached up with Sconn’s staff, and extended it towards the ceiling, which she began to poke at.
“What are you doing?”
“Do you know anything about Gravdinian Ale?”
“Wonderful. We’re about to die and you’re playing Holo-Quiz.”
She ignored that. “It tastes really good. Kind of sweet, really. Unfortunately, it gives off a very strong vapor until it properly ferments. In concentrated amounts, the vapor can be lethal.”
“Oh, this just gets better and better.”
Shandria continued to poke and prod in the shadows. “It’s a hassle and a danger, which is why very few bars carry it. Those that do, however, have to take precautions. So, when storing it, they need a special room with enough … ” She paused as she heard the staff hit something hollow and metallic.
She lifted the stick further, and raising up with it was a one-meter square grille, full of holes. It covered a shaft of similar size leading up into dim light.
“Ventilation,” Shandria finished, and grinned.
Sconn knocked the top grille free and proceeded to crawl out of the open shaft onto the roof of the bar. Reaching back down, he quickly pulled Shandria up next to him. “That was pretty amazing,” he said.
“Thanks. But you rescued me first. I was just returning the favor.” A smile dawned slowly on her face, like a dazzling sun.
Sconn almost started to blush, averting his eyes. “Well, I, uh, that is … ” He cleared his throat. “Thanks … And you’re welcome.” He glanced down the shaft. “We’d better get moving. It’s not going to take them long to figure out where we disappeared to.”
“So, now what?”
The thief crawled forward, peeking out over the edge of the roof. Two more strike speeders were parked out front. A sizable guard watched the front of the building, surrounding a tall, thin man with a hooked beak of a nose. By his uniform, self-important stance, and position of relative guarded safety. Sconn assumed the man was the Imperial-in-charge.
Frowning, the thief scuttled over the roof and checked the back of the building. The strike speeder he had spotted earlier at the mouth of the alley was still there. He could see two stormtroopers watching the back door.
Sconn motioned Shandria over and gestured at the vehicle. “Can you pilot one of those things?”
She nodded. “Why?”
Sconn grinned, taking the staff in two hands. He flipped the small switch in the center of the handle and with a soft hum, both ends of the weapon began to charge with stun energy once more.
Shandria pursed her lips. “My, my… we’re full of surprises, aren’t we?”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” The thief grinned, then turned and jumped off the roof. Shandria watched in amazement as he landed right between the stormtroopers, who weren’t expecting any company to drop in.
The first trooper took the stun staff right to the helmet, sending him crumpled to the floor. The second managed to lift his blaster, but Sconn was faster. His staff struck like a steel deathsnake. The tip of the weapon struck the trooper’s gun, sending it spiralling into the air. Sconn delivered two quick strikes to the defenseless trooper’s gut, dropping him like a rock.
Without missing a beat, the thief then caught the trooper’s rifle in mid-air and turned around just as the strike speeder pilot exited his craft, blaster pistol in hand. The pilot took two quick bolts from Sconn’s captured gun and tumbled to the ground.
Sconn spun back around to stare up at Shandria and bowed theatrically. As he lifted back up, he was utterly shocked to see Shandria holding a small hold-out blaster pointed right at him. Before he could even move an inch, she fired.
The bolt sailed right over his head and a pained grunt sounded from behind him. Sconn whirled around to see another Imperial, dressed similarly to the pilot, go down. The man was holding his chest with one hand and in the other held the blaster pistol that would have shot the thief in the back.
