Gram, Matt and E1234 where hiding in one of the dust-rings on a Planet nearby Mr.N's. They had purchased a shipment of supplies for the strikers, but to wait as the Imperial patrols undertook a scan. They where reasonably hidden but had to wait for a time for the patrols to move from the area. 'Wait, wait, wait,' Matt muttered to himself. 'All this hanging around we have to do a the moment. I can of fancy a bit of action.'

Gram turned around to him in surprise, 'Don't get any funny ideas. There's no way we'll survive a direct confrontation with those guys. You've seen the way people die in space. You want to commit suicide, kiddo, just take a walk out of an airlock. And wait till you've finished your shift with me first!' growled he.

But Gram did have to admit that the smuggling was getting more difficult with each passing day. The Imperial fleet have uped it's patrols. This particular run would have to increase it's speed to pass them. 'Hmmmmm, maybe we should increase our fees in turn,' he considered to himself.

So, he decided that easier money could be earned by possibly playing Sabacc in the Cantina, seen as he was on form. It was Matt's turn to hurrumph skeptically at this suggestion. But before play could resume, first they heard the news of the attack upon Dave. 'That was a lucky escape, it seems that some people are seriously out to get Dave,' Matt commented.

'Well, I suppose that happens when you are one of the leading figures of opposition to a totalitarian regime,' replied Mr.N.

But now another game of Sabacc was brewing. This time, Gram wasn't playing quite so well. He misjudged a hand by someone and had to throw in more credits than he expected. So Gram was playing catch-up. Not a good idea against someone like Solo. 'All right, I'm down a little, but I am sure to do better as the game progresses,' thought he. Just a shame he didn't take his partner's advice about odds.

Matt was talking intergalactic politics at the bar. 'So, you are saying that there's a big demonstration in some days time?' asked he.

'Yes,' confirmed Mr.N. 'There's a works in a planet called Nottingham. Most of them are still at work, so there will be a major demonstration outside it. There is some contact between the workers who are still in and those that are out. Many of those that are working do not enjoy doing so, but have to for financial reasons. But we believe that they don't understand how strongly we feel about things. A large demonstration of our feelings would certainly help.'

'But the Empire doesn't encourage such demonstrations and are therefore making it as difficult as possible for us,'

'That's right Sarah. There might well be trouble. At least we're expecting it. But those like Mugwort want us to keep things as peaceful as possible. I suppose he's right,' said Mr.N a little reluctantly.

'More than suppose, I am right on this one,' said Mugwort crossily as he joined the conversation. 'Much as appreciate your desires to have a punch-up, can I remind you once again, how delicate this political situation is. You do have some support in the Imperial council. And it is vital in this case, not to loose such influence. But many consider the strikers to be just thugs. And with the media doing everything it can to drum up this image, please try not to give them an excuse.'

'But that's kind of hard when you know that the Strormtroopers and the Police never loose an opportunity to attack us, or to beat up our strikers.'

'I know, Sarah, I know. We just have to try to be clever. Or show restraint. We loose what support we have in the Imperial council or simply amongst the normal population, the regime will have just the excuse it wants to annihilate us totally. Um, on another note, it doesn't look to me like your friend is playing that well at cards, Matt!'

This was a correct observation. Gram wasn't doing that great. He had already lost what he had won the previous day and had just bet most of what he had left on banking on getting a flush. As the cards played out, he wasn't so lucky. 'Please, mind that sweat, it's getting on the tables, people have to drink of that!' Han unkindly joked, but Gram obvious nerves, sweating and shaking was not helping his game. Even the droid was winning money of him and losing to a droid at Sabacc was considered the ultimate humiliation. 'Well, are you in for an all nightier?' was another quite subtle piece of gamesmanship from Han.

Gram grunted, 'but I'm down to my last credits. I haven't enough to put up a decent hand. I don't suppose you could accept some IOU's?'

The dealer a rather suspicious looking Twi-lek said with a dangerous soft voice, 'Do we look like the type of people that give credit?' to laughter from some on the table. Disappointed, for some reason, Gram made his way back to the bar.

'Suppose I'd better get a beer, seen as this is the last few Credits I possess,' said he.

'But at least you won't loose them on here,' Sarah answered him as she poured Gram a drink. Possibly she should have done him a bigger favour and refused to serve Gram. But Sarah was a nice girl and she didn't have the heart. In fact she asked him another question. 'That ship which hounded you for a while earlier today, it wouldn't have been a prison ship by any chance?'

'Possibly, Sarah, it did have all the hallmarks of one, but why should a political opt-out like me care?