Part 37- A Misplaced Miner
Living in a cramped dormitory with three dozen other men on an explosive asteroid had never been on Atton Rand's list of life goals, or even in his plans, but screw-ups like him did not deserve logical or even comfortable trajectories. He was lucky to have a job at all, even if it was mining Peragus for fuel so that some idealistic reconstruction project on Telos could go on sucking out the Republic's funds while veterans like him struggled to make ends meet.
For some of the guys on Peragus, mining was a way of life; it was their life-long career. Not for Atton. It was neither in his past, nor in his future. He was getting off this rock as soon as he could.
While the rest of the miners poured straight out of the mines and into the dining halls like a bunch of half-starved cath hounds, Atton liked to ignore his hunger for a bit and enjoy the blissfully empty dormitory to himself. He would get his own dinner once the dining hall started to clear out and the dormitory filled up again.
Atton sat hunched over on his top bunk. It was all the narrow space between his mattress and the ceiling above allowed him. The wonderful silence in the dormitory was something that only the most remote mining channels on Peragus ever afforded, and even then there was the pervasive clicking of the mining droids to keep you company.
He carefully polished his blaster with a dirty shirt that needed to be washed anyway. Sure, blasters like this had no place on Peragus. They were contraband, in fact, thanks to the explosive nature of the asteroid they mined and lived in. All the same, Atton was attached to his blaster. It had been all over the galaxy with him, and he wasn't about to give it up to some weapons broker just because his new, temporary, job did not want him to have it. It stayed buried under his mattress, and it never caused anyone any trouble—besides that nasty sore spot in his back when he accidentally rolled over onto it in the middle of the night now and then.
It really was a beautiful blaster.
"Rand, what in the hell are you doing what that thing?" his bunk mate stormed into the section of the dormitory that they shared, whispering loudly.
Atton silently cursed himself for not being more careful or more aware of his surroundings. He instantly wrapped the blaster in his shirt, the polishing cloth. "What?" Atton asked, feigning innocence, even though he knew it was pointless, "I don't have anything. Just dirty clothes."
"So you're mending your dirty shirt with a firearm?" Jack demanded lowly, stalking up to the bed.
"There's no blaster here, Jack," Atton continued to insist. Men like Jack did give in eventually. Jack was no more moral than any of the other miners. He gambled as often as the rest and who knows what else. "Nothing," he repeated, dropping the wadded shirt and weapon onto the mattress between himself and the wall.
"What are you doing with that here, I know you're new here, but—" Jack whispered hoarsely, but Atton cut him off.
"And I don't plan to stay any longer than it takes to earn enough to pay my way to another rock," Atton interrupted, "Let's just say I can't let my old girlfriend go, even when I have to spend all this time earning my keep surrounded by nothing but a bunch of smelly men and mining droids."
Jack sighed and turned away. "You really won't last long if anyone finds you with that," he muttered.
"Finds me with what? I haven't got anything to find," Atton continued to play innocent.
"You're right, I didn't see anything," Jack faced him again with a hard stare, "You've got nothing, and there isn't anything for me to know about."
"Hey now, I thought we were talking about my estranged lady-friend," Atton raised his hands defensively.
"Ha," Jack laughed coarsely as he walked away, "Last lady-friend you had was some Hutt-slime whore on Nar Shadaa, I'd bet. I'm sure she's not waiting long for you, Rand."
Atton's face reddened at the insult, but he pushed it back down. This was no time to get angry, especially with a blaster on his bed. With one hand, he gingerly slid it, dirty shirt and all, back under the mattress beside him, while he forced a laugh and joked, "Hey now! Don't go trashing my girl. For a Hutt, she has a beautiful complexion!"
Jack laughed again without looking back at Atton and flopped down onto his own lower bunk on the other side of the chamber.
I have to get off this rock. This place is such a dead-end, it just might kill me. He heaved himself over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. It was time to get some food—and pray that Jack did not mention the blaster amid his usual sleep babble. That was the last thing Atton needed right now.