"Life’s a Gamble, Part 1"
By: Sieana Wren - Smuggler
Race Soltair - Smuggler
Location: Yallder District, New Plouton
Date: Rheudis 24, 5 ABY
***
It was very early in the morning as Race Soltair made his way back to the hangar he called home. The hangar and his ship, the Burning Raven. The hangar had been home for several weeks now since the Jau incursion. They grounded all vessels and held them for inspection. Race was still trying to scrape together the credits to pay off the inspection fee.
Race had spent most of the day and night engaged in various games of chance. Cards, holo-fights, drinking games and dice. Anything that he could use to make some money. Drinking games were definitely the bottom of the list. Race liked to remain in control of himself, for the most part. Drinking was something best done alone. Alone and surrounded by his pistols. There was nothing scarier than an angry drunkard with two blasters. That had gotten him out of or through many a barfight.
In fact, he had made another two hundred credits this evening when one of his gambling competitors had attempted to rob him on his way out. A solid punch to the jaw had put him down and out into the dirt. The two hundred was for the effort. Kleedau had wanted to dance so he had to pay the band. Race shook his head as he walked along.
"Idiot."
The hangars loomed finally loomed ahead of him. It was just prior to the dawning and Race was tired. Race used his key to unlock the weathered metal door set inside the bay door itself. This place was definitely grating on his last nerve. He was a pilot, not a moisture farmer. He wanted to get off this rock and get back into the black.
Pushing open the door, Race entered the hangar and made sure to secure the door behind him. As he turned around, he saw his co-pilot and co-mechanic Wren sitting on the ship's ramp glaring at him.
Sieana stood up as Race approached, eyeballing him as she does. "Where the frak were you last night?" She asked, eyes narrowed. Ever since they rolled into the Outer Rim nothing but trouble found them, and right now both of them had their ships under lockdown courtesy of the Jau.
Word had it they kept the citizens on a tight leash, and even the slightest whiff of rebellion was enough to set them on edge, as a result both of their ships had been put under lockdown at the suspicion of them both hauling contraband.
"Earning money," said Race as he patted his jacket pocket on his way into the ship. "You mind? I'm tired."
"How exactly is a game of chance supposed to earn us money? What are you gonna do if you lose it all come the next round?" Sieana asked as she grabbed Race's arm stopping him.
Race shook her grip off his arm and leaned in close to her. "I don't lose. I brought back over nine hundred credits when I left with fifty. Don't grab at me again."
Race continued up the ramp into his ship. It was time to rest up from the night of gambling and fighting. He had to get up early to begin working on the underholds.
“Everybody loses sometime Race, even you. Me I lost a long time ago so don’t go telling me you don’t lose! Sithspit!” Storming off down the ramp, Sieana grabbed her black zip-up jacket and threw it on over her shoulders, her boots clanking loudly on the metal ramp of the Burning Raven as she walked off into the night.
"I finished my losing streak years ago, baby," said Race as he closed up the ramp.
***
Sieana fought back a shiver as she walked through the cold, dark streets of the Yallder District, a steady light rain falling from the skies above her. The dewy drops left a light mist on her dark hair and jacket, the only warmth coming from the glow of the neon signs. She paused as she stopped in front of one bearing home to a local tavern, the name on the sign read Undim’s Pit.
Stepping inside, Sieana surveyed her surroundings; filthy and grimy and yet at the same time homey, truly a tavern worthy New Pluoton’s Yallder District. She marched over to a table and sat down, knocking on the tabletop as she did, grasping the tavern patrons’ attention.
“I have six hundred credits here that’ll give to any man, woman, or thing…who thinks they can drink me under the table, ten shots of Mezkaleh a piece, anyone game?” Wren declared.
Casting a glance around the tavern she sized up the patrons carefully, “So anyone? Or just afraid of losing to a girl?” She taunted. A green skinned Rodian, perched on a stool near the bar stood up.
“I’ll challenge you.”
“NO!”
The Weequay sitting near him stood up and faced down the Rodian. “This fool couldn’t hold his liquor worth sithspit, I’ll challenge her.”
Wren watched as the two proceeded to argue with one another and she stood holding up her hands. “Fellas, Fellas! If it’s all the same you can both have a go at me but I warn ya when I say, don’t expect to leave her on your feet but on your hands and knees.” She taunted mockingly.
“Then we both face her off!!” Roared the Weequay, earning a nod of approval from the Rodian.
“We will see who leaves crawling tonight spacer.” Nodded the Rodian.
"Life’s a Gamble, Part 2”
By: Sieana Wren - Smuggler
Race Soltair - Smuggler
Location: Yallder District, New Plouton
Date: Rheudis 24, 5 ABY
***
Race had slept four hours in his bunk on the Burning Raven. His eyes opened with a purpose. There was no disorientation, or confusion in his mind. Far too many years of sleeping on a wire, ready to stave off an attack from a Rebel incursion or an Imperial bunkmate. He slept light and woke quietly. His weapon was within the touch of his fingertips.
The time readout on the well told him how much rest he had had. He made sure to clear his ship before starting into what needed to be done. Stripping down, he changed into some work clothes and headed to what served as the galley. He had a light meal of some kind of jerky and fruit with a glass of water. It was time to go to work.
Making sure his early warning system was setup for a Jau inspection crew, Race popped open a well secreted hatch and made his way down to the underholds. After hauling freight of various types, Race made it a point to physically inspect the plating of the holds and clean them. Every third or fourth shipment usually. Or when he had the time.
He had kept up a steady pace, only stopping for a few moments every so often for a water break. Two of the plates had corroded and needed to be replaced. The tight quarters combined with the heat of the torch made for an unpleasant though necessary task. Once he had replaced the plates and stowed the other two away, he happened to glance at the ship's chronometer.
"Near midnight," Race said thoughtfully. "She must've been mad."
Race sat on a bench for a few moments drinking water. He would have known if she had come back. They had a system in place so neither one of them got shot. Even if she was mad, she certainly would not have been out this long. Drinking this many hours was impractical. Setting his water down, Race sighed.
Closing up and sealing the hatch, Race went off to change into street clothes. Strapping on his gunbelt, Race put on his hide flight jacket before lowering the ramp. After making sure the hangar was clear, he locked it up and hit the streets. What was she up to?
***
Sieana smirked as she counted her credits again, from six hundred to thirty six hundred credits in one night. Not too bad, not too bad at all she mused. After the Rodian and the Weequay tanked, another challenger stepped forward challenge her, and at a double the amount in winnings how could she refuse?
The Bothan had been a fool to think he could outmatch her, and if he had not passed out around the eight shot of Mezkaleh, Sieana herself was certain she’d tap out herself. The owner offered to buy a round of drinks in her honor, and it was at least one Rodian Ale later, and Neshian Chaser that the smuggler finally made her exit, though much Undim’s Pit was still in full celebratory mode.
Nightfall greeted her, and despite the liquor rolling around in her system she couldn’t bring herself to head back to the hangar bay and back to the Burning Raven to face Race. That man, she wasn’t sure why but there was something about him that put her on edge, then again he did help her fend off those two ex Imperial cronies she encountered on Arrosa IX, both likely sent by her father.
She couldn’t help but wonder if it was nothing more than a lucky gamble that he just happened upon her as she was getting ready to leave Arrosa for Tae’Karada. Then again it made her wonder why some still continued to cling to the Empire like her father and those two clowns did. Still hung up on the glory days apparently. She could only imagine what Race would think; she the daughter of an Imperial official turned Rebel. Never mind that she was trained to be a surgeon.
She could always return to her own ship the Crimson Wolf and rough out the rest of the day there. Then again with the environmental controls out of whack, that thought was less than tempting; it was near impossible for her to work on board without thinking she was on Hoth itself.
First an impound fee and then she had to worry about repairs to the ship itself. Tools she had, money for the parts themselves she did not.
Stopping, Sieana sighed as she looked upon the skies, littered with stars. She chuckled almost in disbelief to think she had spent near all morning drinking, and the rest of the day just wandering the streets of the Yallder District. If anything it beat having it out with Race in a verbal sparring match, if anything being confined to close quarters together for nearly two weeks was starting to eat away at their nerves, and without little to no work for either of them save for odd job here and there, they were getting antsy. At least he had been kind enough to let her room with him, at least till she could get her own ship repaired.
A stab of hunger pierced her gut and Sieana sighed, a decent meal for the night and then perhaps she’d find a place to stay, preferably away from Race. Spying a series of food stands down an alleyway, Sieana made her way over to a short line formed near a small shanty turned noodle bar. She weighed the black leather knapsack carefully on her shoulder as she waited her turn. Three patrons later and she was waiting on her own order, a type of wild mushroom dish made with lemongrass.
Paying for her meal, Sieana leaned against the wall, pocketing the twin spiraled sticks in her belt before she dug into her food. They were called chopsticks if she remembered the term correctly, and she’d doubt if she herself could ever use the infernal things properly. Hissing she pressed her lips to her fingertips, deciding to instead sip at her soup instead before attempting another go at the noodles later.
Race had been looking around the district for some hours. He had seen the inside of at least five saloons and another lot of restaurants. None of them had been of a very high standard, but he had no trouble blending in. As he continued to pound turf around the streets, he came across a row of stands. Walking down the side street, he came across Wren. She was eating.
"Wren," he said in his gravelly tone.
“You know it’s dangerous to talk to an angry woman eating hot soup,” Started Sieana, “You come to drag me back?” Sieana asked in a sickeningly sweet tone as she cautiously fished out a handful of noodles to nibble on.
"No," Race replied. "They have utensils for that soup."
”I don’t use chopsticks, couldn’t if my life depended on it.” Standing to her full height, Sieana walked around Race, or at the very least attempted to. She narrowed her blue eyes as she looked up at him. “Move it spacer, you’re blocking my path.”
"You are trying my patience, Wren," said Race in a low growl. He leaned in close to talk into her ear. His hand was on her bicep, holding her close and preventing her from walking off. "I'm not out here for my health; I'm out here looking for you, hurt vector! You want to be angry at me, fine.
What you will not do is act like a child and be out all night without a word."
Race released his grip on Wren's arm. Turning, he began to walk away from her and back to the hangars. He had had enough of this for the night. He had also missed two good games. He was angry, tired, hungry and in need of a drink.
Sieana glared off after Race as he walked away. Swallowing down a mouthful of noodles she pulled back with her arm throwing the half empty soup cup at his back, hitting him dead center. She could barely hold back her mocking grin as he halted, slowly turning around. That got his attention. Not to mention the bystanders. Either way Wren could care less, Soltair wanted to play this game then they’d play this game.
“For someone so worried, you sure are in a big hurry to go storming off again,” Propping her hands on her hips, she eyed him as she spoke, “Funny, never thought you cared, despite what you may or may not think I don’t need a personal babysitter, I can take care of myself! I’ve been doing exactly that for nine years! If you’re so kriffing tired of my company then I’ll just go hide in the ice chest since you and misery seem to be fine and content as roomies.” She spat acidly.
Tightening her grip on the strap of her knapsack, Sieana pushed past Race roughly, all but shoving him out of her way. It’d be cold tonight on the Crimson Wolf, not that it mattered the environmental controls were out of whack, it usually was cold either way, she’d been flying solo a long time, and it had been something she had grown accustomed to. She’d probably been better off with the company of a droid if she could ever afford one, or even a Wookiee.
Race shrugged off the soup. The jacket was made out of hide, liquid just rolled off of it. The others in the stand area turned back to their business as if nothing happened. Incidents were a frequent happening here whether it be a gunfight or a verbal quarrel. He never would understand women. Probably better off without her.
Race bought himself a dish that consisted of meat, vegetables and noodles. He also picked himself up something with which to wash his meal down. At least the evening would be quiet.
Heading back to the hangar, Race stopped off in a few of his more popular haunts looking for news of any action. One such place, Herndan's Oasis, proved to be the one that night. A small tournament with a two hundred credit buy in. Possibility of winning fifteen thousand credits. That would go a long way towards getting him off of this rock.
Securing the time and necessary signature on the tournament's log book, Race headed back to the Burning Raven. He had five hours to eat and rest up for it. He entered the hangar and checked the area after locking up. He repeated the process on the ship before he raised the ramp. Setting his security system, Race commenced to eat.
"And Another Case"
by Dr. Vincenzo Lapenta, neurosurgeon, NPIN
Location: New Plouton Institute for Neurology
Date: Rheudis 24, 5 ABY
***
"Another one coming up, doctor," a nurse called out to Vincenzo.
He sighed.
He had hoped to be home on time for once, but the Jau had no intention of cooperating.
Ever since the first successes of the Rebels, the Jau repression had gone up, insofar possible.
In the beginning doctors could be out after curfew, but that exception was now also a thing of the past.
This meant that with this case, he would be stuck in the hospital until tomorrow morning.
Not the first time he had to do this and like most doctors he had a cot set up in his office.
"Surgery," he asked.
"Room 3," the nurse replied.
Vincenzo acknowledged and went to the prep room next to surgery room 3.
"What's going on," he asked the team already there when he entered.
"Apparently he was out after curfew, caught and interogated," one of the nurses, holding a datapad, said, "afterwards they brought him her to be patched up.
According to the Jau he had fallen during the persuit and he has some broken bones."
"Fallen," one of the other nurses asked, but from what Vincenzo knew about the Jau he knew they wouldn't lie about this.
They moved into the surgery room where the patient was already waiting.
"Some broken bones," one of the nurses said.
Vincenzo didn't know who but he could only agree as he was quite surprised the patient's left leg was still attached to the rest of his body.
This was going to be quite a puzzle.
As soon as the patient was anesthesised, they started by cleaning the wounds, something the Jau had also neglected to do.
Next was to sort everything out and to make sure there were no bone splinters left anywhere except in the bone where they belonged.
Putting back together the bone took almost two hours, but they had to do that first before they could start on everything else.
When the last bolt (they weren't called that officially of course) was put in place, they could start the next part: putting the rest of the leg back together.
If only they still had bacta, Vincenzo thought, but that was idle hope.
Maybe some people had hoarded some, but for most there hadn't been any new shipments since the Jau occupation had started.
"And now the last one," he said after another hour, "and that's it.
Well done, people.
Time for all of us to take a break."
While the patient was brought to the post-op room, Vincenzo and his staff took a shower and put on fresh clothes.
"I hope we can still get something to eat here," Vincenzo remarked.
"I heard that the cafetaria stayed open to serve sandwiches," one of the nurses remarked, "as there are a large number of people trapped here."
"Very well," vincenzo said, "some sandwiches then."
When they came out of the prep room, Vincenzo activated his commlink.
He never had it on during surgery as it was dangerous to be distracted while cutting in people.
He saw that he had 3 unanswered calls, all from Sarah, so he called her.
"Where are you," she asked when she came on the comm, "I was worried."
"I was in surgery," Vincenzo said, "I'll have to stay in the hospital tonight.
I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay," it was clear Sarah wasn't happy about it, but there was nothing she could do.
When he came into the cafetaria he saw that someone had put on a holovid and the lead item on the news was the explosions near Thanatos.
"They're quite efficient," someone remarked, not having to explain who 'they' were, "we won't be getting many cases from there."
As Vincenzo got his sandwich, he wondered how long it would take before all this violence would be over.
Maybe he and Sarah would have to try to get off planet.
It was difficult, but it could be done.
He would have to discuss it with her tomorrow.