Sunday, April 25, 2010

Tumbleweed down the street .....

     The Imperial Pride was busy as usual.  Many patrons were return customers and wandered in and out as time moved towards the Imperial curfew.  Otto was working the door.  At the door was the Imperial weapon scanner that was installed as part of Rogan's buisness contract.

Rogan was working the main bar and wiping the bar top.  Scanning the crowd produced no findings or trouble or new customers.  Some noise caught his attention to the front door.  The weapon scanner turned red and Otto was searching a new customer by hand.  Weaponless, the newcomer approached the bar.

"What can I get for you ?" Rogan asked as he tossed the bar rag to the side.

"Whiskey, any galaxy will do" the newcomer smirked.  Rogan reached for the first whiskey bottle he saw.  One whiskey glass and a shove to the newcomer proceeded.  The newcomer took the glass and slammed the shot.  "Refill please bud" Rogan poured again.  This time Rogan noticed that the newcomer's hand was shaking slightly.

"If your twitching about the weapon scanner calling the Imps here, no need to worry.  I have connections.  Your blaster isn't on a high priority list." Rogan glanced to see the response.

"Thanks.  It helps but that isn't a major concern."  The newcomer looked around and leaned in close.  "You have a backroom I can borrow?"

Rogan looked the man over.  "For what?"

"Some healing and to lay low" the newcomer open his jacket to expose a blaster wound.

Rogan looked around quickly for any Imperial presence.  "Sheeesh buddy, heavy request for someone I don't know.  Spill it ...."

The newcomer looked around.  "I just landed recently and was jumped by some space scum looking to hijack my ship.  Blasters were pulled and I gave my answer to their request."

Rogan smirked.  Wrong ship to mess with.  People are getting desperate.  "How many?"

"Five." Rogan scanned the room once again.  "Any Imps?"

"None.  Not that I could tell.  It seemed they had limited skills but had a look of fear about it all.  A look of despair."  Rogan knew what the unfortunate space jackers had on their mind.  Survival.

Otto shot a glance to Rogan.  Rogan waved it off knowing Otto was checking the situation.  "Can you make it five more minutes ? We close shop in 5 minutes."

The newcomer looked down at his wound and nodded.  "One more shot and I will have no problem."  Rogan smiled and whisked another shot his way.  The shot followed the other two.

Every day is something new.  Rogan knew this from his experience as a business man and being around the galaxy a couple of times.  The newcomer seemed legit for now.  Information is power and this might be a good investment.