A half-dozen pints of Andoan ale levitated inches above the long bar in a dimly lit space tavern, alternately amusing or frightening the regulars depending on their level of intoxication.
“Sarzo, stop that,” said Elmer, who operated Argy’s from a space barge stationed just outside the Aturi Cluster. “If the young Jedi Master could come here please. I pay you for your piloting and fighting skills, not to amuse the regulars.”
The glasses slowly lowered, then touched down gently on the wooden surface. Sarzo Lord, dressed in a dark brown, hooded robe, rose from his bar stool and walked over to the elderly proprietor.
“You’re crankier then Luke Skywalker was in his last years at the Jedi Praxeum,” Sarzo said.
The two humans faced each other, a study in contrasts. Sarzo Lord was 30, tall with long, black hair that touched his shoulders; Elmer was north of 70 and short. The remaining strands of grey hair on his head were sadder than most of his patrons.
“As one of the last graduates of that Jedi school you must’ve been a great disappointment to Skywalker. So many skills, yet your devotion to the bottle is as strong as your mastery of the Force.”
Sarzo laughed. “All the better for you, Elmer. What’s the next assignment?”
Elmer had hired Sarzo to be his ringer in the Tavern Wars, the ongoing conflict with a rival Outer Rim space tavern owner.
“Several enemy ships are making a delivery through the Hawkwind debris field, thinking we’d never go after them there. Take some pilots and stop them.”
Sarzo reflexively grasped the light saber at his side as he considered the mission.
“Out there you’re just as likely to be killed by a piece of space junk or an asteroid as you are by laser fire.”
Elmer cracked a toothy smile, something he rarely did.
“Just use the Force, young Jedi.”
Continue reading “X-Wing mission: Mayhem in the Hawkwind debris field”