Dealer
Chapter 1
I was hardly more than 10 years old when I started working in my family's shop and store on Coruscant. Well, at that time, it was Imperial Center. I tended to the counters and tidied the store, sometimes amuzing myself with mind puzzles or hand games when I was bored. I was exceptionally adept at ball and stick, tossing the little round sphere into the air and spearing it on the wooden handle before the string it was attatched to could be pulled taut.
I was a child born under the oppressive times of the Galactic empire; and while inside I harbored bitter feelings towards the dictatorship I had submitted to the fact that I would simply have to live with it for all of my life. I had only been working for about a week the first time one of the emporer's liaisons entered the store, to pick up a part that had been dropped off for service. I had stuttered and stumbled so badly that my mother had to come and take over, searching for the part and kindly taking the credits. My father had a reputation as one of the most skilled workers who was still self-employed, but these were hard times and he had to embrace the patronage of the Empire rather than fear it. I suppose, at the end of the day, he only wanted to put food on the table for my mother and Siira, my sister, and myself.
When I was 15 I fancied myself a bit of a philosopher. Instead of pursing games of ball and stick and drawing bantha herds on scraps of paper, I was scribbling ideas, reading works, and meditating as I sat tiredly at the counter. I think my thought worried my family a bit, because my father soon decided it was time for me to start in the shop. I had careful, skilled hands, and I was able to make fine repairs on speeders and other aircraft that my father wasn't. Working side-by-side, we were envied by most of the shops in our district for our ability to repair anything, and often received ship-ins from mechanics who weren't able to do certain work or for jobs so specialized droids couldn't handle them.
Siira was 20 years old when she was married to a commander in the Imperial Fleet. I suppose, it was good for her, she had never been an assertive girl, happy to do as she was told. He was a well-off young man, and I hoped that she would be taken care of. As I fixed the veil on her white wedding gown, I silently prayed the best for her. She was my sister, and I cared about her. 'Don't worry, I'll be fine! We'll see each other all the time!' she had insisted, kissing the top of my head and hugging me. That was the last day I ever saw her.
I was years beyond my 18 years when my father was taken from us. I'm not sure I'll ever forget the day that the storm troopers burst into our shop, armed with blasters and shouting like savages. I had my hands in the engine of a speeder bike, my father working on a piece of an imperial fighter. 'Let's go.' What looked like the leader of the squad demanded, bumping his blaster against my father's back. The man who I had long regarded as one of the strongest in the galaxy quietly obliged, dropping his tools so they could cuff his hands. I'm still not sure what they arrested him for. I've heard rumors that the Emporer had grown jealous and wanted my father's talents for his own use, and I've heard rumors that my father was thrown in prison. I shook in fear as they led him past me, and he looked at me, mouthing 'Take care of your mother.' I nodded, losing my grip on the work I had been doing. A sharp piece gouged into my hand, bright red blood spurting freely from the wound. I bled for my father, for Siira, and for what my life had become.
On my 19th birthday the empire fell. In what was widely regarded as a popular move, Mon Mothma was made chancellor of the New Senate, and I had to say I agreed. I penned a letter of cheerful support, signing my name to it and dropping it in the mail.
It was the day after my 19th birthday, and I was standing at the counter of the store. My mother had broken down with some sort of illness – inevitable, really, from the sheer stress we had both been under. Buisness was slow, and I ran my thumb over the three-inch scar that curved from the knuckle of my index finger to the side of my hand, almost respectively, before returning to another game of ball and stick.
"Hello?" A voice asked. I turned my head, the ball still landing as perfectly on the stick as when I had mastered the game years ago.
"Can I help you?" I asked, trying to sound cheerful.
"Uhm, yes. I'm looking for a speeder bike. Do you sell them here?"
"Oh, erm…" I bit my lip in thought. There was one, a previously scrappy piece of junk that I had picked up for next to nothing. The repairs were almost complete, and with a new paint job among various other improvements it certainly wasn't scrappy looking anymore. "There is one."
"Great!" The young man replied enthusiastically. His eyes sparkled like a young child's, and that's the first time that I noticed those eyes – they were bright blue, and they were honest. "How much?"
"Don't you want to see it first?" I asked cautiously. He flushed.
"Oh, er – yeah."
"Ok…" I said, nodding and giving him a sideward glance, going through the door on the back wall into the shop. Parked in the back behind a partition, the bike hovered several inches across the stone floor, emitting a gentle hum. It was painted a bright blue, and I had affectionally named it Tergaé II, after my father. I'd stenciled the name on the side in white with pride. The machine gleamed under the harsh shop lights. I rubbed my hands together, trying to loosen some of the grease from under my nails.
"This is it." I said, unable to hold back a touch of pride in my voice. "It still needs a bit of work, but I could have it done in two standard days if you leave a deposit. 500 credits towards a total price of 3000."
"Done." The man snapped before he or I could think twice. Wow, this kid was quick!
"OK, if you'll come back into the store I have a form I need you to fill out." I said, turning around to go back.
"You don't need me to fill out any forms."
I stopped. The way he said it made it sound a believable, albeit still ridiculous, but I had been doing this since I was 10. Yeah, right, nice try.
"No, I really do." I said, continuing in. He followed me silently, waiting and watching as I shuffled under the counter for the appropriate paperwork. I whipped a data board from under an empty bottle of blue milk and a defunct datapad that had once delivered the 'Galactic Update'. Picking up the pen attatched to it, I filled out my name and some basic information. "Here." I pushed the pad across the table to him. "Can you fill out your name and contact information?"
He surveyed me briefly, taking the tablet and writing in the information. Then he dug in his trousers, pulling out a billfold and counting out five 100-credit bills. The way he was dressed struck me as odd, and I had failed to notice it until now. A pair of loose cotton pants, and boots that reached his knees, and a layered tunic with a long dark robe over it all. It registered somewhere in the back of my mind, but for the life of me I couldn't determine where. I took the pad back, looking at it. Luke Skywalker. That, too, clicked, but I didn't know why.
"All right, Luke." I said happily, printing out a small receipt. "I should have this ready in two days, but I'll call you if I finish sooner."
"All right! Thank you very much!" He said, clasping my hand in his and shaking it. I watched him leave through the door, still wondering why I knew that name as I retreated to finish working on the speeder.
