“Oh, I not quite sure yet, but probably somewhere in the vicinity of Vodran system. Perhaps I might stop by Corellia, too.” Emon Kaaren had this customs agent completely hooked by his story. Aboard the Oasis, Emon had found the pilot’s wardrobe and was surprised at how well it fit. Dressed in decent clothes-and infinitely cleaner than the ones worn in prison-Emon now began his new life. He had decided to stop at a New Republic border station to get his bearings and few supplies. Plus, he needed to know the state of the galaxy after being in prison for so long. Unfortunately, this nerfish Gotal was holding him up at the moment.

“Do you have anything to declare?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you grant permission for a scan of your ship?”

“Sure. Take all the time you need. And while you’re scanning, I’ll just hop on over to the station’s bar. I don’t want to interfere with the scan, of course.”

“By all means. We will be done in five to ten minutes.” “Finally,” Emon thought. He opened the hatch for the inspectors and strode over to the nearby pub. He was certain that the only suspicious item they would find would be a couple bottles of Jaap’s Brew, a slightly illegal alcohol which, when combined with the right ingredients, becomes a powerful explosive. A scan team as ragtag as the one boarding his ship would never find the real dangers of the freighter. Emon entered the bar and sat down at the counter. These border stations were fairly standard: customs officials, pilot’s lounge, a few bars and restaurants, gift shops, and always sparkling clean. “I could take my family to one of these. If I ever wanted to have a family, that is.”

“What’ll it be, sir?” the large, but friendly bartender asked the escapee.

“Umm, whiskey and a glass of water. Tall glass of water, that is. I’m kinda parched.” The bartender nodded, spun around, and poured the water for Emon. Kaarin sighed and looked at the other person in the room. For the first time in his life, he was free. And, for the first time in his life, he was completely, utterly bored. He wanted to do something, but after every new and exciting idea, a wave of lethargy washed over him. “Information trader? Nah, the only sides who could pay me what I want already have enough spies. Mercenary? Nah, I know too many of them. Plus, I’d have to work in a team. Slaver? Uhhh, no. Farmer? See slaver. Man, if only I-“ Emon stopped as the other patron looked up at him and motioned for Emon to sit at his table. Looking around and finding no-one else, Emon slid out of his barstool and into the squeaky-clean metallic booth.

“I don’t know who you are, and frankly, I don’t care either. My name is also not important, but what I am about to tell you is. Approximately two days ago, the New Republic attacked one of its own prisons a couple of systems away from here. Their target was a man named Emon Kaarin. All but one of the prisoners were killed…and one freighter pilot. Unfortunately for them, their target was not found among the dead and a scan of the planet has turned up nothing.”

“So why are you telling me all this? It seems way more classified than I want to know.” Emon was definitely nervous. If word of the attack had reached a backwater station such as this one, he probably shouldn’t stray near some of his old hiding spots.

“Your freighter has the same IFF code as the one owned by the dead pilot. One missing prisoner with the know-how to pilot any craft and cover his tracks, and one missing freighter. Coincidence? Not a chance.”

“And what if I am that missing prisoner? What would you do to me?” Emon didn’t recognize this guy at all, but then again, a lot had changed in the past few years.

“If you are the prisoner, then I stun you, throw you in the holding cell of my ship, and take you to Warlord Zsinj.” That name set of several alarms in Emon’s head. He had worked for Zsinj once and had hated the man. He did not enjoy being in the warlord’s presence as a bounty hunter, and he definitely did not want to be in the warlord’s presence as a prisoner. “If this…informant is telling the truth, I need to get out of here. Fast.”

“What do you want from me? You obviously didn’t call me over here to tell me highly classified material for kicks.”

“Show me your ID, Mr. Dar.” Emon froze. He hadn’t had the tools he needed on-board the Oasis to make a proper, albeit fake, ID. He was able to slight-of-hand the customs agent, but this guy…”Huh, I have a better chance of sleeping with Princess Leia than blindsiding this fellow right now.” He fumbled with his pockets, trying to stall.

“Stalling will only hurt your case, Mr. Dar. I suggest producing an appropriate ID immediately. You are not armed, but I am well armed. Your ID. Now.” He didn’t know who this guy was, but Emon had begun to hate that cool, calm, and in control voice of his.

“Bartender, where’s that whiskey I asked for?”

“Oh, sorry sir. It’s on its way.”

“No more time, Mr. Dar,” A blaster appeared. It looked modified, but then again, anyone who used his blaster more than twice always modified it in some way. Emon could see that it was set to high stun, which meant that the target was knocked completely out for quite a long period of time.

“Your drink, s-“ As soon as the bartender put the whiskey on the table, Emon flipped the shot glass at the mysterious informant. The whiskey spilled onto the blaster, causing it to short-circuit. The bartender jumped back, while Emon leapt out of the booth and sprinted for the door. Unfortunately, the informant pulled another blaster out. Fortunately, he couldn’t aim right and only managed to ruin the bar’s doorway.

**********

The station was silent. Not a single person was around, and all the lights were off. It was almost as if the place had been evacuated, except for Emon and his attacker. F’Kio Dar was now a suspect running from the law. Emon Kaarin had been running from the law for quite some time. Emon had managed to find a small holdout blaster and some clips for it. He still was confused, though. The informant said that the New Republic had attacked its own base, but he saw TIEs attacking it. Perhaps the informant had misinformation…unlikely, since he knew that the pilot was killed and the Oasis was stolen. Emon wondered why the New Republic would go after their own base, especially in TIE Advanceds. Was the New Republic trying to frame the renegade Imperials of destroying their prison? He didn’t know, and frankly didn’t care at this point. All he wanted to do was find a way off of this floating spacedock. He peered around the corner, saw no-one, and made his way to the turbolift. Emon heard footsteps about 20 meters away and moved into the shadows of the lift. He looked to see a merchant wandering through the station, window shopping.

“Hey you! I have a proposition for ya!” Emon loudly whispered to the merchant.

“Yes…? What can I do you for?”

“I need to get to Malastare. Can you help?”

“Malastare, huh? Well, that could be pricey, ‘specially since I’m not going that way.”

“Where are you going?”

“The Adage system, but I’m stopping over in Ord Mantell.”

“Five hundred creds if you drop me off in Ord Mantell.”

“Five hundred? Sure. I leave in two hours. Meet me at the customs area in front of Hangar XB-2.”

“Right.” As the merchant walked away, Emon wondered how he would pick up the 500 credits he promised. He had not seen anything worth even fifty creds in the entire building. Except for…”the shuttles!” Hurrying down to the hangar level, he remembered that he was being hunted only after a couple of laser blasts scorched the wall to the right of his head. “Damn that guy is persistent.” Emon fired back without looking and continued to the hangar bay just a wee bit faster now. He called for one of the turbololifts and ducked into the shadows. His pursuer came closer, but could not find him. “Time to end this,” thought Emon. He waited for the informant to come three steps closer…one…two…

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE! DROP YOUR WEAPON AND TURN AROUND SLOWLY! MAKE ANY SUDDEN MOVES AND I WILL SHOOT!” Emon froze. He was about to follow the orders when he realized that the voice was in front of him. He peered around the corner to see the customs agent who had checked his ship aiming for the informant. Not wanting to ruin this moment, he crouched down and watched the events unfold.

“You are under arrest for violating section 882.94 paragraph 7 of the New Republic customs code: failure to quarantine diseased fruits.”

“WHAT?!”

“We found two unknown fruits infected with Soan-Los-7. This virus is highly contagious and uses humans as disease vectors. You probably unwittingly infected every plant here on the station. I hope you’re happy.”

“This is insanity! I didn’t declare it because I didn’t know I had any fruits or veggies aboard! Heck, I’m surprised I had anything to eat aboard my ship at all!! Let me go!”

“Be quiet. You’re only getting into more trouble by yelling at me.” The agent took him away and Emon was left staring blankly. “Wait a sec…I can get to my own-well, it’s mine now-ship and not have to pay that trader anything. Great!”

**********

“Control, this is the freighter Oasis. I respectfully request permission to leave.”

“Permission granted…Hold please…uhh, Agent Sxol would like to speak with you aboard your ship.”

“Roger that.” Emon couldn’t believe it. Here he was, literally one minute away from freedom, and he had to wait because some agent wanted to speak with him. “What could this Agent Sucka, or Sxol, or whatever want?” He hid everything that might be incriminating and waited. He heard a knock at the ramp and went back to see who it was.

“Hello Emon Kaarin.”

“Wha…who…Uhh?”

“Oh I knew who you were from the moment you arrived. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me. I am Uopal Masch, Master Bounty Hunter. I believe you met my apprentice, Hadero Trew.”

“I know you now. We worked together on that Hutt hit…though the name of the target escapes me right now.”

“Right, unfortunately for you, though, we don’t work together any more.”

“So you’re here to capture me and to take me to Warlord Zsinj, right?”

“No. The bounty is for you, dead or alive. Same price. The only reason we didn’t kill you earlier was because I wanted to teach my apprentice how to bag the big bounties. Your worth is far more than you know. We never lied to you: the New Republic did attack your prison in an attempt on your life while trying to make it look like an Imperial hit, and I am a certified food inspector for the NR-I did that before I became a bounty hunter. So, unless you can escape from us right now, you are a dead man.” Emon thought about the events that had happened here on the station. He felt a little remorseful for killing the freighter pilot now, mainly because he didn’t really escape. As the apprentice fired the fatal shots, Emon Kaarin remembered only one thing: he forgot to tell the merchant he wasn’t going to meet him.