Author: Downfall Records

Lucasfilm owns star wars

yadda yadda

Seclusion's Scarcity, Part 2-Arrival

In and out, day and night, Davil Benden watched the starships come and go. From Traffic Control, Station Two, of the Mos Eisley Spaceport he sat and peered at the travelers. With each new ship he set his eyes on, his desire to board one and explore what was beyond grew immensely.

For three years he'd sat at his console, checking ship ID's and directing pilots where to land. It was not a glamorous career by any means, but it was more appealing then his brother's moisture farm their deceased father had left them. And to Davil, it seemed the closest he'd ever get to the life of a space traveler.

Davil sat in his dark swivel-chair and watched the chrono on his screen. Three minutes until his shift was over, three minutes until he could leave the dark and crowded room and head over to the cantina.

At nineteen, Davil's frame had filled out to that of a young, strong man. Atop his head lay a mass of auburn hair. It was kept short and simple. His face was accented with bold, blue eyes, and his cheeks and chin were covered in dark, day old stubble.

He was dressed in dark blue jumpsuit, standard issue for a city-funded job. Mos Eisley spaceport, though technically a government controlled station, was ran by civilians. In all reality there wasn't much of a government on Tatooine. Tatooine was not a member of the Republic. It had chosen to stay independent. The Hutts and various other crime lords were the ones in power. It didn't really concern Davil though, as long as his credit chips kept coming.

As Davil stood to leave, his comlink abruptly fired up.

"This is Station Three here." Came the voice of one of Davin's coworkers, Ben Otoley, another human.

Davil sighed, knowing he'd have to stay longer now. "Yeah Three, this is Two here. What's going on?"

"We were tracking a freighter experiencing engine trouble. It went off our screens about two klicks south of town."

"So he's probably crashed into the sand and is burning. What does this have to do with me?" Davil asked impatiently. He could feel his hours at the bar quickly slipping away.

"Command wants you and me to go check it out. Look for survivors, the usual." Came Ben's voice. It too held disappointment, but the older man seemed to be able to hide it more.

Davil cursed under his breath and shook his head. So much for enjoying my off-time. "Roger that, Three," he said. "I'll meet you at the speeder."

As the suns set slowly into the blazing orange sky, a lone speeder sped out of town and into the surrounding harshness. Davil Benden sat quietly in the passenger's seat, contemplating what lay ahead. In his span at the spaceport, he'd seen plenty of crashes. Not many held survivors. The Tatooine desert was infamous in its ability to kill pilots.

As the time passed it found the speeder parked on the ridge of a scorched valley. Below it lay the wreckage of what Davil guessed to be a Sorosuub T-5 Light Freighter. Its short, wedged shape broken in half. Flames danced over the hull, consuming the remaining antennas and sensors.

Ben let out a soft whistle at the sight. His rough hands came up to scratch his tan beard as the cool breeze played with his long hair.

Davil turned from his companion and brought his binocs to his eyes. On the screen, he was surprised to find a long figure moving in front of the wreckage. Using the zoom feature, he made it out to be a human. The man was dressed in a torn, orange flight suit. His face was covered in black soot, and his large arms carried pieces of equipment that he must have judged salvageable.

"We have a survivor," announced Davil, handing the binocs to Otoley.

Ben nodded at the younger man, "Let's go say hello."

Lesk Dafoon glanced at the two figures atop the ridge. Their silhouettes glowing in the setting suns. Instinctively his hand went to his holster. He'd heard stories of the Sand People and other vicious scavengers that roamed the Tatooine desert. His hand, however, was met with disappointment at the emptiness of his holster. Blasted thing must have fallen out in the ship.

He patted his torn up suit for anything hard or pointy. Finding nothing but a comlink, he began to walk towards the approaching duo. He chuckled to himself, maybe I can throw the comlink at them before they raise their guns.

As he walked towards the strangers, he squinted his dark green eyes. They both appeared human, and neither seemed to be carrying a weapon. The long haired man even raised his hand in greeting. With a decreasing sense of wariness he decided that his life was safer with these two then without.

As the neared each other, long hair spoke, "We watched you go down on our screens at the spaceport, are you all right?"

Lesk nodded grimly, but pointed to his ship. "But I'm afraid she's not."

"What happened?" Asked the younger man, to the long-haired one's right.

"I'm not quite sure," Lesk admitted, not tearing his gaze from his ship. "When I began my descent something just went wrong. Broken sensor, damaged stabilizer, I don't know. Maybe it was just fate, but either way..." Lesk paused, as if he had suddenly realized the enormity of what he'd lost. "Either way she'll never fly again."

As if to change the subject, the younger man spoke up. "My name is Davil Benden, this is my coworker, Ben Otoley." Both men nodded to each other, a symbol of mutual respect.

"We're here to pick you up, help you out with anything we can," added Ben.

Lesk turned back to his ship, as if taking one last look at a dying friend. He knew it was over now. His career, his income, his dreams. All of them were burning with his ship. Turning back to the newcomers he said, "I've gotten everything out of there I can use, let's get out of here before it turns itself into a ball of exploding gas."

The two men nodded again, silently agreeing. And with that they began to walk back to the speeder.

****

High above the moon of Nar Shadda, Hendal's Revenge floated peacefully, far away from the lanes of interstellar traffic. The swarms of ships entered and exited the atmosphere. Each immersed in its own business, legal or otherwise.

The ship was oval shaped, save for two large laser batteries jutting from its port and stern. Hendal's Revenge sat quietly, illuminated only by the gentle lights coming from its aft ports.

For two days it had sat, waiting for a signal. A signal that would lead its pilot to his quarry. A signal that had finally come.

A beeping from the cockpit awoke Hendal Gordo. He opened his large, bulbous eyes and sat up in his bed. With a touch of excitement in his step, he walked past the orange bulkheads and towards the cockpit. He reached his destination and the door to the controls slip open.

The cockpit was small, a lone seat was centered in front of the port. To its left and right sat various screens that monitored the Revenge's functions and its onboard prisoner cells.

The bounty hunter sat in the green seat. With a deadly sense of calm he tapped the flashing light on his display. The beeping stopped and a holographic image appeared in front of him. It soon formed into a planet. It's spherical mass was tan, speckled with browns and reds. Two suns glowed in the distance.

So my friend, thought Hendal with a smile. You have fled to Tatooine. The Rodian rubbed his long green fingers together as he enjoyed his good fortune. He was born a hunter. Raised a hunter. And now, he would hunt again.

*****

Foontag Naboon walked quietly through the crowded Mos Eisley spaceport. His senses were alert as he scanned the area for potential danger. His right arm was hidden inside his red cloak, resting on his stunner. Sullustan's were small, and genuinely thought of as weak creatures. Easy picking for those seeking easy money.

Foontag's large ears picked up a plethora of sounds. Sullustan's were known to have some of the best hearing of the galaxy's sentient species, and Foontag had grown used to using his as an early warning system.

The cautious figure looked at the chronometer on a flashing display above him. The ship Jo De'te had sought passage with, Shii'vik, had arrived minutes ago. What docking bay, however, Foontag had yet to discover.

His eyes focused on his surroundings and he heard a door to his right slide open. Above the gray door the words "Traffic Control. No Admittance" appeared in several languages. A younger man in a blue jumpsuit strolled out and squinted his eyes at the change of light.

"Excuse me, my friend," started Foontag as he approached the young man.

The man looked down at the Sullustan with a hint of annoyance on his face. "Yes, what is it?"

"My friend has just landed aboard the Shii'vik. I am supposed to greet him, but I don't know at which docking bay he sits."

The blue-clad man looked to the ceiling, running ships names through his memory. "The Shii'vik, you'll find it at bay thirty-three." With that he walked off quickly towards an exit.

"Thank you!" Called Foontag as the young man walked away. With that he headed towards bay thirty-three.

Jo De'te stood nervously in the middle of docking bay 33, waiting for his friend's arrival. If he even shows up at all, he told himself, unsure. Jo had known Foontag for twenty years, they had even been former business partners while living on Coruscant, but there had been a falling out, and they'd not talked for several years. But he is my last hope.

Jo glanced back to his Bothan pilot who was seeing to his ship being fueled. He'd already payed Ketch Farool his 10,000 credits for flying him to Tatooine. It was an profane amount, but Jo had not had time to argue while on Nar Shaddaa. He'd barely escaped with his life, losing credits didn't seem to bother him anymore.

"Hello, De'te," came a voice from behind Jo.

The Rodian twirled around, surprised at the voice behind him. Before him stood a Sullustan. He was around 1.5 meters tall, and dressed in red robes. His eyes were large, green things that held a look of relief and anxiousness at the same time. His face jowls hung softly, adding dimension to his gray and tan skin.

"Hello, Foontag Naboon. It has been a long time since last we met," he said calmly.

"Yes, yes it has," The Sullustan nodded. "I trust your journey was safe?"

"Indeed. My pilot was a bit intense," he said, pointing towards the Bothan watching the meeting in the shadows of Shii'vik's underbelly. "But he got me here safely."

"And you've payed him?"

Jo ignored his battered pride at the words from his companion's mouth. "Yes, I may be in a dire situation, but I am still honorable enough to pay for my services."

"Then we should be going," said Foontag.

Jo turned to Ketch and said, "I thank you again for your help." He then reeled and walked towards Foontag, and out of docking bay 33.