Colony

1

Markus sat alone in the bar, nursing his now shallow glass of Corellian ale. He vaguely heard the soft, background murmor of the small crowd occupying the shabby establishment. Well, he said shabby, but it was still no doubt the best place in town for a few shots and a good game of sabacc.

The bartender stood close by, but not nearly close enough. She was a pretty human woman whom Markus had been trying to make conversation to all night. Now she was half a meter down the counter, talking it up with another, more handsome human customer.

It was getting to be that time of evening where he had to be getting home, but still he hoped his client would show. The ambience of the Credit Wellspring certainly didn't help, however; dull, quiet, and sleepy - why Markus had ever wanted to do business here was beyond him, although he suspected it was probably the drinks and the attractive waitstaff. There he sat on the comfortable barstool, turning slightly left and right repeatedly and keeping himself occupied by admiring the gorgeous array of bottles and alcohol in front of him. His lekku twitched in anticipation for a transaction long overdue, and he idly ran his hand over the trusty blaster hanging on his hip to make sure it was still there. He hoped he wouldn't need it.

The individual who was supposed to be meeting him was a shady character to say the least. Markus wasn't all that surprised to be ignored, although he was definitely disappointed. Another few minutes passed before the soft hum of the opening door behind him startled Markus from the groggy state which had possessed him. He snapped his head around to face the noise and witnessed a hooded figure cloaked in a coal black shroud enter the Wellspring. Perhaps things were about to finally start going his way.

And then all hell broke loose.

The concealed man raised a Mandalorian blaster in the blink of an eye and shot dead three people in just over a second. Markus swiftly swung over the counter at which he was seated and took shelter behind it. By now three more cloaks had entered the tavern and were shooting down the few customers remaining, their blasts ringing in the air.

A human, dead. Togruta, dead. Duros, bleeding out, his skull smashed against a table. Pretty bartender, shot in the eye, a charred chasm occupying her once attractive face.

It took Markus three seconds to get over the initial shock, and he now had pulled out his own gun and was blasting at the cloaks. He got one. A few other wise individuals had also taken cover, some attempting to shoot back. That didn't last long.

Moments later an immense explosion of blinding light and noise greeted Markus's brown eyes and blue ears as he was flung backwards in disorientation. His head smacked ungracefully against the shelved wall behind him, bottles and glasses hitting the floor, shattering in response to the unholy combination of ear splitting and eye searing attacks fused into one. Markus couldn't hear over the deafening ringing which had usurped his ears, and he could barely see half a meter in front of him. He struggled to even think or move, and his head throbbed to a fast and painful rhythm. What the hell hit him?

He vaguely felt the rough force of the hands which had grabbed and lifted him up off the glass and alcohol littered floor. Once again he was thrust backwards, slamming against the ruined shelves. A wave of sharp pain stabbed through his entire body, and now he was even more disoriented. Markus tasted blood, and felt some more of the thick, slimy fluid sliding down the rear of his head. He didn't try to fight back; clearly he didn't have many options at his disposal. The nozzle of a blaster forcefully made contact with his chest, and his ribcage erupted in agony. No doubt he had more than a few broken bones.

Markus could make out a voice in front of him, but it was muffled. He blinked twice to try to focus his vision. He could see now that one of the cloaks was speaking to him, yet he had no clue why. Why was Markus even there in the first place? He wondered what had brought him into this quite unfortunate scenario, but couldn't recall. Another good question: why wasn't he dead yet? Death was a welcome end at this point which Markus would greet with open arms, but why wouldn't this damned nut-job just grant his wish?

The cloak was yelling now, first at Markus, then to a friend of his. Markus didn't care enough, he simply wanted some sleep. A good night's rest wouldn't harm anyone, especially not him. He could see himself in his warm bed now, back at his quaint apartment on the edge of the colony, the scratchy blanket covering his weary body, and his screwed up head on top of his white, fluffy pillow. His daughter stood above him, and Markus gave her a broken smile, the best he could muster. Sleep called, luring him into an abyss of pure blackness. He didn't fight it.

A swift smack to his skull finally put him down. He could rest now. He was at peace.

<**>

Markus awoke slowly and groggily from his impromptu sleep, his head still aching. Much to his surprise, he was not at home, but on a cold, stone floor in what he assumed was a cell somewhere. He tried to sit himself up - that was a mistake. He cried out hoarsely as torment overcame his chest.

"Ah," a woman's voice murmured. "Markus Hunt... you're awake."

With great effort, Markus turned his heavy body to face her as she rose from the lone wooden chair at which she was previously seated. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Although if you were so eager to meet me, I do wish you'd have just invited me to dinner instead." He gave a weary smile.

"Quite the sense of humor, Mister Hunt," she remarked, most likely sarcastically considering the slight head twitch which had accompanied Markus's name. "But I wouldn't be making jokes from the floor in such a pathetic state."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have put me here, then."

The human scowled. "You're not here to make small talk and crude jabs, I'm afraid. We have business to discuss."

"Ah, then am I to assume you are the client I was supposed to meet before you blew the Wellspring to the nearest next-door galaxy? I was expecting someone more... impressive. Intriguing. Man-"

"We're not playing games here, Markus," she shot back in a stern tone. Markus's following laugh quickly turned into a bloody cough, and red phlegm shot from his mouth down onto the dull gray stone below him. The woman quickly returned to her previous calm, ignoring him. "I understand you were set up to deal a certain item of importance to some low-life smuggler."

Markus's voice had grown worse. "Item? Ha, a bit more than just an item, sweetie. But good to know your cloaks weren't setting me up," he grunted. "Interesting."

"Cloaks?" she snapped. Markus could tell she was losing her patience. "So you don't deny you were in possession of this - these items?"

He looked up at her for two, long seconds before answering. "Look, sweetheart, you're never getting those narcotics, as much as you may like to. But I would like to know why you want them so bad. And who are you people anyway?"

"We're pirates, Markus. Although that hardly matters, does it?" she retorted. Markus now noticed the crimson blazing claw, signature of most pirate organizations in the Rim and elsewhere, emblazoned on her tight-fitting, navy blue jacket sleeve. She continued speaking. "What does matter is that we were stolen from, and the 150 kilos were traded to you. So you see we have an interesting dilemma, wouldn't you say?"

"Very."

"We brought you here alive for a reason. Trust me when I say, there are numerous ways we can make you talk."

"Oh, I doubt that very much," Markus replied with a scowl.

She scoffed. "We'll be sure to find out then, won't we? Besides, don't feel all that important. This Rim's Edge colony is teeming with business opportunities, if you know what I mean," she said, shooting him a smirk. "Good day to you, Markus Hunt. Enjoy your cell. If I'm feeling generous enough I may even bring you a pillow." The woman walked away laughing to herself; apparently finding great value in her poor excuse for humor. Markus, however, was not amused.

He would have indeed appreciated a good pillow.