“What’s their status?”
The lead trooper’s voice sounded in the command center, echoing off the stone walls.
“Sir,” said another trooper, this one a clone, his once white armor slowly succumbing to sand, grit and dirt, “we’ve lost contact. As soon as they entered the canyon, it just went dark.”
The lead trooper swore inwardly. It was important never to let them see you lose your temper; those blasted clones were always so in control of themselves. As a normal man, you had to constantly self-check yourself into the kind of behavior clones were conditioned to do almost from the moment of conception. If only this wasn’t such a backwater planet...the simplest satellite in orbit would solve a problem like this.
But, no. He had to root out the low-level Hutt gangsters, make deals with the high-level ones, keep an eye out for rebel scum, and do it all with the practical equivalent of knives and bearskins. What he wouldn’t give to be on a star destroyer again...
“They’re lost. Put together a four-man patrol, and send them out looking. Stay together, all the time. I don’t care what the regs or the codex says. Those two idiots probably tried to split up and flank their quarry, and got ambushed. Tell the new patrol not to split up unless they get a direct order to do so. Clear?”
“Clear, sir. Dispatching a four man patrol, now...sir, I think you should see this! It’s coming over the comlinks...patching it over to the holoscreen.”
What, now? The leader grumbled to himself.
He crossed his arms and readied himself to take another message from the local yahoos who...
What?!?
The little weakling from the Sanddancer family was happily recording himself on the datapad, glibly describing how he and his brother had trapped the fellow chasing their sister. In the background, his much larger brother had bound DK-423 to his speeder bike and was now happily beating the clone on the head.
Terribly unprofessional, thought the leader to himself. If he’d been there and that skinny little nerf-brain had been tied up instead, this would’ve been a prime opportunity to interrogate and then execute the suspect. Instead, they only seemed interested in teaching DK-423 that chasing their sister was a bad choice.
“How did this reach us?” said the clone at the console. “I thought the canyon walls were too thick?”
“They must have just cleared the canyon. It was set to automatic relay; their datapad sent it over and over again until they were clear, sir.”
“Stop calling me sir,” he said to the clone. “I’m not an officer, I work for a living.” he said under his breath. The response had become automatic after saying it for years. “Inform the Hutts of this new development, and then scrub the records.”
“Yes, Si-Sergeant.”
#
Mos Eisely spaceport popped up in the distance. Lar and Zed swerved and jumped in their bikes, jockeying for position. Lar nearly always won these contests, often by virtue of intimidation as the bigger brother as by skill and speed.
Today, Zed was trying a little harder. Buoyed by his success with hacking the scanner, he wasn’t giving way when Lar tried to cut him off or otherwise keep him down.
Lar tried to use a swooping maneuver on Zed and missed. Jada took her chance and shot across Lar’s left, pulling ahead of both of them.
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Lar yelled in surprise as Jada’s bike screamed past him, easily accelerating past the pair of them and crossing the town limits. Still distracted, Lar didn’t have time to react as Zed goosed his own bike’s engine and shot forward, leaving Lar confused and in last place for the first time in the siblings’ living memory.
Jada pulled into the cantina lot. There wasn’t an actual space for parking. But she saw the local Jawa transients lounging by the stone doorway, eyeing her bike with a hungry set of glowing eyes. She made a public show of detaching the ignition unit from the bike as she dismounted. It took a second and was bulky to carry in her belt, but the peace of mind knowing her bike wouldn’t be stolen was worth it to her.
A few seconds later, Zed and Lar pulled up beside her. They removed their igniters, too, watching the Jawas the whole time, who pretended not to notice them but look off into the distance.
“Nice of you boys to join me!” Jada said with a smile.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Lar. “I bet you two planned this a while back.”
“We didn’t, big brother. But who cares? You’re buying!”
The three of them walked into the cantina, with Lar grumbling and Jada and Zed with spirits high.
Lar had cheered up, though, by the time they got to the bar. It was crowded, as usual. Mos Eisley was a spaceport whose primary value was as a way station, a place to refuel and replenish supplies on the way to somewhere important. But there were folks who picked up the occasional job here.
They went up to the bar, and Wuher the barkeep smiled. “Your Da know you’re here?” he said, trying to sound gruff.
Lar, Zed and Jada all smiled. Wuher had been a family friend for years. “What Da don’t know won’t hurt us,” Jada said “What’s good today? We just had a dustup with some drifters, and we wanted to relax a bit before we get back out there.”
“Got something for you kids to try,” Wuher said, dropping three glasses on a tray with a pitcher of blue liquid. “It’s good, but I gotta get it gone fast ‘afore someone figures it fell off a transport from Coruscant. They call’s it bludrink. It’s not gonna get you drunk- I don’t need your Da mad at me- but if you chase it with some water, it’ll take the edge offa some sore muscles pretty good.”
“What’s that?” Zed said after they sat down and had a few sips of the bludrink, his voice going up a notch as they saw the wall display. It hung like a picture on the wall, but instead of a still picture a filmed piece displayed itself for anyone who watched.
It showed a dark void of stars that was suddenly filled by the bulk of an Imperial star destroyer. The enormous ship was roughly in the shape of a triangle big enough to swallow Mos Eisley and virtually every farm that surrounded it in a several mile radius. “DO YOU WANT TO SEE IT ALL?” said a caption at the screen’s bottom that suddenly appeared under the Star Destroyer. An announcer in a stirring, manly voice declared the words on the screen as if he was offering you the galaxy for a pittance.
The picture of the Star Destroyer suddenly switched, replaced by a scene with a number of stormtroopers in gleaming, polished-white armored charged up and out of a trench, their laser carbines blasting bright red bolts at an unseen enemy. “CAN YOU FIRE A WEAPON?” said the new caption, complete with the announcer’s voice and stirring, attack music played in the background, “AND RUN TOWARDS A FIGHT?”
Jada’s brothers watched the show, transfixed. In the middle of the charge, a green bolt from an unseen enemy hit one of the troopers in the shoulder. He went down, but two nearby comrades quickly rescued him while three more provided covering fire. “DO YOU KNOW THE VALUE OF FRIENDSHIP?” said an announcer in a voiceover, still brave-sounding but tinged with a bit of concern. The music swelled and crashed as the wounded trooper suddenly found his strength, firing his weapon one-handed while his comrades cheered. “THEN YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES! JOIN THE EMPIRE! SEE THE GALAXY AS AN IMPERIAL STORMTROOPER! DRIVE IMPERIAL MECHANIZED MATERIEL! OR, IF YOU’RE TRULY A MEMBER OF THE ELITE, BE A PILOT ON A T.I.E. FIGHTER, BOMBER OR INTERCEPTOR! THE CHOICE IS YOURS, ALONG WITH A GENEROUS MONTHLY STIPEND!” The screen switched as the announcer’s speech continued, showing troopers engaged in helping smiling children onto transports, driving gigantic, four-legged machines through a landscape of snow and ice, and then a black-suited, blond-haired man smiling as he pulled a dark helmet over his head and dropped down into the cockpit of a TIE fighter while giving the thumbs-up sign.
“Whoa,” said Zed. “Could I really do all those things?”
“Yes, yes YOU can!” said the screen while the words flowed beneath it. “Place your thumb on the red circle to enlist with the Empire! Leave immediately with one of our courtesy recruitment droids for an increased signing bonus. Or take a few days to get your affairs in order.”
Now the flying TIE pilot stood with two attractive women wearing unhelmeted stormtrooper uniforms sculpted to a more feminine shape. “The sooner you enlist,” said the handsome blonde pilot, “the sooner your adventure begins! Start today, fly today, get paid today!” Slightly smaller type stated that humans only need apply, and also showed the sliding scale of pay, for...
What?
How many credits did a pilot earn?