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Archive for April, 2009

Scared of a Stormtrooper

April 26th, 2009 by Bahama

One of the perks I enjoy as a trader who doesn’t take sides in the war is the ability to go where I please and, generally speaking, not have to worry about who has control over that particular area.  Rebels and Imperials alike are happy to buy my goods and very few bother to inquire whether I’ve taken up sides or not.  I am, after all, just a simple tailor.

The sight of stormtroopers has never really bothered me.  In fact, I’ve been known to smile and nod to the regulars in Theed.  Why not?  They have credits to spend on clothing the same as everyone else.

But the other day, catching a glimpse of that familiar white armor out of the corner of my eye suddenly caused a wave of panic to wash over me.  The pistol!

 Now I had no real need to worry.  The pistol was safely hidden back at my house in the potted plant where I’d left it.  But the fact that something as familiar as a stormtrooper had suddenly caused me panic made me think.

I have no desire to live in fear of any faction.  It’s good for my business and my stress level to remain that simple tailor who sells to all without discrimination.  I’m a little angry with this man for having burdened me with this silly pistol and all the baggage that has come with it.  I’m a little angry with myself for not having had the courage to refuse it in the first place.

When he contacted me again to ask whether I’d purchased armor as he’d suggested, I explained that no, I hadn’t and I didn’t plan to in the future.  I told him in no uncertain terms that I had no desire to live in fear.  He asked about my past and i stood firm in my refusal to give him any more information about myself.

I saw him in the Theed cantina shortly after our conversation.  He sat alone in a dark corner.  I avoided looking in his direction and didn’t let on that I’d seen him.  Outside the cantina, I ducked behind a pillar and spied on him for a bit.

I still don’t have a clue what prompted his interest in me in the first place.  I don’t know why he’d be concerned about me having weapons and armor or even more perplexing, why he’d fake it if he’s not.  I honestly don’t know if he means me harm, is trying to protect me somehow or if I’m just a pawn in some mind game he’s concocted to stave off boredom.

It’s tempting to simply cut off communication with him.  Everything to do with him seems to lead to danger or the threat of it.  And he remains distant no matter how hard I try to be friendly.

But I’m not sure it’s wise to walk away just yet.  They say keep your friends close and your enemies closer…. so which ever he is, I suppose it’s best to just play along for now.

An Unexpected Adventure

April 19th, 2009 by Bahama

Out of the blue, I received a tell from an acquaintance yesterday.  I don’t know this man well.  In fact, I don’t recall ever seeing his face before.  He said he had some things he wanted to show me.  My curiosity piqued, I agreed to meet him.

Without his helmet, I didn’t recognize him upon my arrival at the starport. Without so much as the usual exchange of pleasantries, he immediately asked me not to take my weapon out. I was mildly amused that my reputation had not yet reached his ears.  I agreed and he asked me to follow him. 

As we drove further and further away from civilization, the thought occurred to me that here I was with a man I hardly knew, out in the middle of no where going to some unknown destination.  Looking for some reassurance, I inquired if we’d be safe by ourselves so far out.  He assured me he could handle anything that might come our way but somehow it was little comfort.

We arrived at our destination.  What he showed me was nothing short of awesome.  Incredibly spooky, but awesome nonetheless.  As we were leaving he asked me to wait for him by the vehicle.  I heard some weapon fire and he came running toward me saying it was time to go.

He drove us quickly away from the scene. I clutched the seat, glanced over at this mysterious man who’s face was once again concealed by his helmet and wondered to myself…  Why had he brought me here?  What were his intentions?  What on earth was I doing here?

Before I’d had much time to contemplate the answers to those questions we’d almost arrived at our second destination.  He told me that I should put my armor on.  This time I couldn’t help but chuckle out loud.  Everyone that knows me knows how I feel about armor.  I shared with him my distain for armor and he promptly handed me a helmet and told me to put it on. 

I was about to explain again how I do not wear armor when he stopped the vehicle, turned his helmet in my direction and said, “Let me rephrase:  Put that on or you’re going to die.”  I put the helmet on.

He led me through.  It was as interesting and beautiful as the first …but some how darker.  He raced here and there and I struggled to keep pace, fighting the urge to constantly look behind me. 

Safely back at the outpost he told me to follow him to his home where he’d supply me with a pistol.  I opened my mouth to protest the need for that but before I could speak he again turned to me and spoke in that calm but forceful tone, “And that was not a request.”

A day latter I’m still baffled by this man.  He shared his knowledge and seemed to care for my safety enough to give me a pistol.  Yet, he was never what you’d call ‘friendly’.  In fact, there was more than one time during our outing where I could have sworn he was threatening me.  I hung around his house waiting for him to make his demands… to tell me what it was that he wanted from me.  They never came. 

I left him and went directly home.  I took out the pistol he’d given me and ran my fingers over the cold metal.  The scratches gave away that it had been heavily used in the past.  I wondered where it had come from and how he might have acquired it.  He’d insisted I take it but also warned that I should be careful not to get caught with it.  Why had he given it to me?  Did he really want for me to have a means of protection or was this nothing more than a trap of some sort?

I tucked the gun under some clothing in my chest and went to bed.  I could not sleep.  I kept mulling the whole evening over in my mind.  I had been alternatively fearful of and intrigued by him.  My instincts said he meant no harm, but his words often contradicted that. I found myself straining to look through the darkness at the chest that held the pistol.  I finally flipped on the light and dug it out.  I nestled it in among the potted flowers close to my bed.  Surely no one would find it there!

I double checked the locks on the door, climbed back in bed and finally drifted off to sleep.