Logan – The Early Days.

[Logan Shivers]

Departure.



Logan trudged his way back to the village after yet another tribal battle. They had won again, but it had not come easily and less than half of the brave warriors that had set out just one week ago now returned. They had lost a few more on the walk home, their injuries too disabling for them to keep up with the pace being set and of course, survival dictated that the strong carried on, if you were weak, you fell. It was as simple as that, so no one would even consider helping the injured.



This was the seventh such battle Logan had taken part in since his coming of age and each battle he survived made him more and more certain that this was not for him. It was not what he wanted to be doing for the rest of his life. A life that could end up being cut short. And for what? For bragging rights? It seemed to Logan that this out dated way of life was keeping his people from progressing. His people were living like animals and seemingly ignoring the vastness of the Galaxy and the many other races that were busy expanding their presence throughout the vastness of space. His people seemed determined to stay on their planet and kill each other because… well, because tradition dictated that is what they should do.



Logan craved for more. He craved adventure and even danger, but unless he wished to enlist as a soldier and end up just fighting in somebody else’s war, the opportunities to leave Trandoshaa were few and far between.



Shouts up ahead announced their arrival and Logan looked up to see the village elders noisily greeting their returning warriors, eager for news. He would leave that to his superiors, he was not one of the senior warriors so would not be expected to provide any such report. He turned off the path and made his way towards his hut, lifting his twin axes from their sheath on his back and handing them to a youngling seated outside his door.



“Clean and sharp, want them back by morning.”



The youngling eagerly ran off, clutching the weapons tightly and clearly bursting with pride at being given the opportunity to perform this task for an honoured and much bloodied warrior. He would no doubt play at being a warrior himself while he had the weapons in his care… Logan remembered the days he did exactly that, longing for they day he would be chosen to go out and battle. How naïve he had been. How narrow minded and unimaginative.



It was not that he was scared of battle, on the contrary he LOVED to fight, he felt a freedom that he did not feel at any other time. He felt alive, in direct contact with life and death itself. It was a rush like no other and he NEVER shied away from it, he reveled in it. But it was just not enough. He needed more… he was perhaps not really sure of what more.. but something, there was just something missing in his life and he needed to find what that was. He needed to go out in the Galaxy and hunt for the missing element in his life so far.



He undid the buckles on his hide armour and dropped it onto the large wooden table just inside the door. His leather bracers joined it and then the leather harness for his weapons. He was tired, but taking care of his gear had to take priority and so he grabbed the brush from the shelf and began to scrub the blood and grime from the tough leather. Once he was happy with that, he grabbed the oil jar and some rags and rubbed it into the leather, helping to revive and protect it. Seeing that some stitching had started to come apart on his harness, he found his needle and thread and made repairs. Finally, hours later, he hung the gear up on its hooks by the door and nodded to himself in satisfaction. He turned for his bedroom and finally stripped out of his filthy clothing, chucked it in a heap on the floor and dropped into his bed. The routine of cleaning his armour and harness had helped to settle his mind, so it took no time at all for him to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.



+++



Three loud bangs woke Logan up. The sound seemed to vibrate around his room and was completely unexpected. He snapped from sleep to full alertness in an eyeblink and had the knife he kept by his bed in hand before he had taken another breath. A quick scan of the room showed a tall, lean male standing in the doorway to his room, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. The male was dressed in a battered old powersuit that had seen plenty of action and plenty of repairs too judging by the many weld marks that covered it. He appeared to have a rifle of some sorts in a shoulder harness and a pair of blasters in hip holsters. As with all Trandoshans the male was bare footed but had what looked like some leather straps wrapped around the long digits of each foot. He had a toothy smirk on his face, clearly enjoying Logans reaction to him pounding the wall with the butt of his blaster.



“So, you been making a name then? Big bad berserker, kill more than anyone I hear.”



It took Logan a couple more seconds to place the male, then he recognised him. It had been at least 6 years since he had last heard from or seen his brood father, Hodd Esss. The male was considered a bit of a rogue by the elders and had not been made welcome in the village since he had decided to leave with a band of pirates that had snuck onto Trandoshaa all those years ago. They had come to recruit and Hodd had taken them up on their promises of a life of violence, adventure and riches.



“The elders let you back into the village?”



Hodd shrugged his armoured shoulders.



“Maybe, did not ask. I come to find warriors to come with me, my ship.”



So, it would appear he had made enough riches to buy his own ship?! Suddenly, Logans daydreams of adventure away from this wretched place and its backwards ways were possibly within his reach? Sure, Hodd was not what other races would call his father, although he had contributed to the brood that Logan had come from so they shared some history. Logan did not know Hodd well enough to judge if this would be a good move or not, but what he did know was that he wanted a way off this planet… and this might prove to be his only chance.



“You take me?”



Hodd nodded and stood up straight, pushing off from the door frame with his arm.



“Ship South of village, you know White Twins?”



Logan knew the odd rock formation Hodd mentioned, a depression of rock between two tall spires of almost bone white stone. It was not known if this was a natural formation, or some sort of ancient ruin, but as it was all raised up a few hundred metres from the dessert around it, he guessed it made a good spot to land a ship and hide it from easy view. He nodded and moved to get up from his bed.



“Get everything you want, maybe not come back in long time, maybe never. Leave at moonrise, if not there, I go.”



And with that he left Logan and almost flattened the youngling that was proudly returning Logans Axes to him. The quick footed youngster danced out of the way, then entered, presenting the weapons to Logan. They were gleaming, he had smoothed away the notch in the blade that had happened at some point in the last battle, sharpened them and polished them to a mirror finish. The wooden hafts were oiled and rewrapped in the leather grip. Logan nodded his approval of this work, it truly was great.



“Very good, you make great warrior. Wait.”



He motioned the youngling to a seat and returned to his room, moving towards a large chest situated in the far corner. Opening it he searched for a couple of seconds and spotted what he was looking for. He pulled out a long hunting knife, the blade the length of his forearm, serrated on one side, and razor sharp and smooth on the other. He took the knife and its scabbard and went back out to the youngling.



“For you. Keep it safe and look after it like you look after my axes.”



Logan had taken it from a fallen enemy, one of many trophies he had gained recently. It held no sentimental value to him, but he knew that the budding young warrior would see it as a prized possession and also a great honour to have been gifted it.



The younglings eyes went wide, his mouth opened in awe. He seemed to be utterly lost for words and just stared at Logan. Chuckling to himself, Logan slapped the young one on the back of the head and motioned outside.



“Go! You stand like that too long you put me off my food.”



The youngling nodded and stammered something as he made his way to the door. Logan gave him a playfull kick on the back side to help him out, feeling amused at the reaction he had caused. Had he ever been like that? He thought not, but memory could be a funny thing.



Knowing he could do the trip in a couple of hours, Logan chose not to rush leaving, he would take his time, pack what he needed and leave the village after the full heat of noon passed by. It would give him the opportunity to see a couple of friends and let them know he was leaving.



And so, mid-afternoon of that day found him walking through the rocky borders of the dessert with all that he owned in a large backpack and his collection of axes and knives in a sturdy holdall. His friends reactions had been polar opposites, one had rambled on about him having to stay and bring honour and glory to the tribe in battle and blah blah, Logan had stopped paying attention until he had ended his rant and called him a traitor to the tribe for leaving and stormed off in a rage. His second friend had nodded without surprise, saying that he had known something would pull Logan away at some point. He wished him well and hoped they would meet again before the Scorekeeper claimed their lives.



Just as the rim of the sun touched the distant horizon, Logan arrived at the White Twins and stood on the rim of the depression, looking down at the first ship he had seen close up. They flew overhead on occasion and so he had seen the various shapes and sizes, but never before had he seen one like this. Sitting on the ground and unmoving.



He knew nothing about ships, so he had no idea if this was a good one, or indeed what sort of ship it was. He could not see much in the way of weaponry so he guessed it was not some sort of battleship, but maybe there were hidden weapons? After a few more minutes of staring at the blue-grey painted ship, he had no better idea of what it was and never would, so he shrugged his shoulders, picked up his weapons bag again and headed down to it.

[Logan Shivers]

Departure - part 2

Logan had obviously been seen by the occupants of the ship. As he approached he saw that some sort of platform was lowering itself from the left side of the ship. As it lowered, it slowly unveiled a pair of Trandoshan feet, then armour clad legs, torso and arms, and finally the face of Hodd Ess.

“Ahh, you came. Gooood, we do great things together you and me.”

Logan did not know what he should be feeling, but he certainly had no strong feelings about this male. Sure, it had fathered him, but it had not been his father in any way. No bonding had been created in hunting, in teaching, nothing. But, this male was Logans ticket off this planet and so he would go along and see what the Scorekeeper might have in store for him.

“Just two of us on this whole ship?”

Hodd looked up at the ship that loomed above them, its proximity overhead making it seem even larger than before. He shrugged and looked back at Logan.

“Not so big, small freighter, but FAST! Class 720, good engines, good bones. You come, meet crew, we will be brotherhood.”

Logan stepped onto the platform and Hodd touched a panel on one side that triggered it to lift back up into the belly of the ship. As it rose, Logan got his first glimpse of its innards. The platform rose into the centre of what appeared to be a storage room of some kind, crates littered it in a seemingly haphazard fashion. The décor was purely functional, unpainted blue-grey metal adorned all surfaces and the ceiling contained what seemed like a maze of pipes, cables, wires and conduits of various sizes and lengths. Hodd began to explain that this was one of two cargo bays the ship had, one on either side of the powerful engine that sat in the middle of the ship. Two further units situated at the head of each cargo bay and hence at the front of the ship and to either side of its cockpit provided the power required to push the ship into hyperspace at speeds few others could keep up with or so his father claimed. In between these prely functional areas of the ship were crammed the crews quarters, three small cabins with four bunks in each, a communal mess large enough for perhaps half a dozen sentients, communal shower and toilets and finally a room that Hodd had claimed for himself as the captain of this ship. This room was about the same size as the crew quarters but only held one bunk and was littered with what seemed to be trophies of some kind. It was cluttered, untidy and Logan felt an element of shame to be seeing it, but it did not seem to bother Hodd in the slightest. In the mess Logan was introduced to the rest of Hodds crew. Four Trandoshans that looked as hard and lean as the meanest fighters Logan had seen. Hodd motioned towards the largest of the four. He was lounging back on a chair, holding a pack of cards that his calloused digits were having difficulty in shuffling.

“Sanssk, he with me longest time, good fighter, sent many to death, the Scorekeeper favours him I think.”

Then came two identical females, sisters it seemed and something about them made Logan instantly loathe them both equally. Both sat with Sanssk at the mess table, judging by the stacks of credits on the table, partway through a game of some sorts that involved the swapping of chips.

“Alissa and Tanuk, they look after engines, make ship work good,”

Finally Hodd motioned to a lone figure that sat on a bench along the far wall of the mess, a short, wiry Trando who appeared to be tinkering with a device of some sort.

“Yarik, he get us into stuff, opens doors, breaks things. He not bad pilot.”

Yarik was the only one to greet Logan in any way, he freed one of his hands from their task and raised it to Logan who returned the gesture. The three card players had barely even acknowledged his existence. Hodd told Yarik to get the ship ready to leave and took Logan towards one of the crew cabins. It appeared to be empty of any belongings and was filthy, clearly not in use and left to gather dust and rubbish. In fact, most of the ship was filthy and Logan got the impression that none of the crew cared much.

“This free cabin, all for you! Girls have one cabin with Sanssk, you not want to be in there…. Yarik have other, share it with so much stuff no room for you there.. so you take this, make it home.”

This at least gave Logan some comfort. If he was to have his own space aboard this bucket of filth, he would be able to deal with spending time locked with the individuals on it, despite first signs telling him that he would not be doing much in the way of bonding with any of them. The first pangs or regret started to gnaw at him but he fought them off. He should not have expected to find an easy way off his home world and besides.. he was a Trandoshan warrior, he would face any trials with valour and bravery, not begin to cower at the first signs of discomfort..

He placed his meagre possessions on one of the four bunks and was searching his brain for something to say to Hodd when his father saved him the trouble.

“Come, I have gift for you, for welcome to brotherhood of Ess!”

Leading Logan into his own cabin, Hodd uncovered a somewhat battered but solid looking set of body armour. It comprised of a chest and backplate and two bracers to cover his forearms. It would certainly provide much more protection than his leather armour and Logan accepted the gift with pleasure. Headded it to his little pile of belongings and then Hodd took him to a somewhat cramped little compartment that Logan had missed on their initial tour of the ship. It contained a solitary seat and the controls of what Logan realised were two heavy laser cannons. He had seen the likes of these before but only in salvage, never functional. Between the controls and the actual cannons a clear screen so the operator seated at the controls could see what they were shooting at. The clear screen was dome shaped and when Logan popped his head up to take a look he could see the whole of the top of the ship. The gunners compartment was situated in a slight bulge right between the cockpit and the huge central engine block.

“Think you be good at shooting? Brotherhood need good shooter.”

Logan shrugged, he had never tried and so had no idea, but he could not see how hard it could possibly be, you saw what you wanted to shoot, pointed at it and shot it, surely anyone could do it?

“Never tried, cant be too hard.”

Hodd laughed and slapped Logan on the shoulder.

“We see, find you something to shoot, see how easy is.”

With that, Hodd left him and climbed into the cockpit with Yarik. The two busied themselves with getting the ship off the ground and heading in who knew what direction. Lacking anything else to do, Logan sat himself in the gunners chair and worked out how to rotate it so that he was facing towards the rear of the ship and so managed to watch as they rose higher and higher into the cloudless blue sky. As he continued to watch the receding ground became more and more indistinct until it was just a mix of colours on a canvas, then a blurr of colours on a sphere that was getting smaller and smaller as time went on. Then, finally, without warning it vanished and was replaced by a glittering scene that utterly entranced him. This must have been the hyperspace that he had heard about, the way of travelling between the stars that ships used.

Logan wondered how long it would be before he saw his homeworld again, not knowing at the time that it would be lost to him for decades.

[Logan Shivers]

Disfunction

Logan had been aboard the class 720 freighter “Chameleon” for almost six months, most of which had been spent traveling from one backwater to another in search for a truly lucrative contract. Sure, they had picked up cargo at each spot and sold it at a later destination, or took on minor hauling contracts that took them to those backwaters, but the credits that had earned the so called Brotherhood was just enough to cover fuel and repairs, and the drinking habits of the crew.

Logan had not really hidden his disdain of their poor standards, making a show of keeping his cabin clean and tidy and his twin axes shiny and on display. He had attempted to bring some sort of order to the remainder of the ship and had managed some minor successes. The cargo holds were structured and the cockpit and gunnery areas were tidy enough to not worry about tripping over junk when trying to get to them.

His efforts had brought mixed reactions from the rest of the crew. Hodd had made no comment at all. In fact, his so called father figure had spent most of the time on ship locked away in his cabin, and when off ship in one tavern after another getting increasingly more intoxicated while supposedly searching for contracts. This, according to him was the good life. The vile triplets as Logan had started referring to Sanssk, Alissa and Tanuk had mocked him and displayed even more dislike and hatred towards him.

Yarik, the quietest of the crew had shown some little appreciation and made an effort to keep his own cabin a bit cleaner, although with the sheer volume of equipment, spare parts, explosives and tools he had in there, it proved to be a task beyond his capability, or perhaps just beyond the limits of his patience.

Logan had also spent plenty of time in the gunnery seat, running holo–simulations of combat to familiarise himself with the laser cannons. He had not yet had reason to actually shoot at anything. He had also spent some time with Yarik, learning the basics of piloting and felt confident that if he had to, he could take the controls.

They were currently on a 12 day long hyper journey to a deep space location near the core. Imperial space. However the station they were heading to was apparently not known to the Imps and acted as a smuggling den. Hodd had got wind of it at their last stop and decided to pay a visit and see if the rumours were true, and if so, what they could find there.

This was their longest hyper trip and tensions in the ship were starting to run high, the confined environment not allowing enough space between the occupants. Two days out from their destination, the inevitable happened. On his way out of the mess Logan clashed shoulders with Alissa who was on her way in and, as usual, expected him to move out of her way. The clash enraged her and she hissed obscenities at Logan who initially tried to ignore her. Her persistence however frayed even his expansive patience and he turned on her, hissing his own obscenities in a building rage that he had not felt in a long time. Not since the last tribal war he had taken part in back home. Within seconds the situation deteriorated and the two were attacking each other with ferocity. Tanuk, not wishing to miss out and not having any concept of a fair or honourable fight joined in, making it two on one.

Logans rage built and before he could do anything about it, the red mist took hold of him and he was taken over utterly by his warrior ancestors. He became the killing machine and there was nothing in his world other than the will of the Scorekeeper and her wish for death at his hands.

Sanssk had already been in the mess and watched with amusement initially, believing that his two ferocious females would teach the insolent pup a lesson, but his mirth soon became concern. He watched as the fight escalated to a bloody, vicious battle that was very one sided, but not in the way he had expected. The young pup was a demon. He only had his bare hands but had already crippled Alissa by breaking one of her arms and was tearing into Tanuk, Alissas now feeble attempts to attack one armed ignored.

Sanssk was torn out of his stupor by the angry yells of Hodd who pushed past and got involved in the battle, trying to calm things down. Even with this third person involved, there was no sign at all of Logan being restrained so Sanssk snapped out of it and joined in himself, not looking to attack, but to help Hodd restrain the demon in their midst.

Sanssk now understood why they had gone all the way back to Trandoshaa to pick up this insolent pup. The cretin was a berserker, a rare and dangerous breed for sure.

It took Yarik stepping in as well before they finally restrained Logan and brought a halt to the chaos. Sanssk had a tight hold of his two legs, whilst Hodd and Yarik helf an arm each, all of them using their weight to pin him to the floor. Alissa had been dragged away by her sister who seemed to be limping badly and they retreated to their cabin. The pile of bodies ontop of logan remained there for some time, waiting for his struggling to stop, then for his breathing to calm. Eventually he regained his senses and took one long, steadying breath, despite the weight on his lungs. He Managed to twist his head to the side so he could speak.

“Ok, I’m ok.”

The three veteran Trandoshans tentatively released him, still clearly cautious and waiting for Logan to flip out again, but the mist had gone, he was back in control and calm. He studied himself and noted the blood stains on his clothing, or what was left of it as most was ripped to shreds. He had a couple of gouges in his abdomen and could feel his neck bleeding but otherwise he seemed pretty intact. Looking around he took stock of his surroundings and, noticing the absence of the two females for the first time looked at their companion,

“Did I…..?”

It was Hodd who stepped in to answer.

“No kill, just hurt. Think they not try that again. You good now?”

Logan nodded and that seemed to be enough for Hodd who turned and headed back into hes cabin, closing the hatch behind him.

Yarik smiled a crooked grin, half looking at Logan, half at Sanssk, clearly wondering what the next play was in this tense powerplay.

Sanssk studied Logan for a good long time, then, as if having made some form of internal decision, he nodded approvingly at him.

“You fight good. Hodd made good choice. I accept you now.”

Those being pretty much the only words he had ever spoken to Logan, Sanssk left the room, going no doube to check on his two female companions.

Logan grabbed a chair and collapsed into it, then accepted a bottle of some sort of liquor from Yarik and took a long drink. Yarik settled down in a chair opposite Logan and studied him.

“You know… you could have gained respect sooner by telling them you are a berserker?”

Logan shook his head.

“No… they would have taken it as bragging, but not risked finding out for sure. They are weak.”

Yarik thought about this for a while and nodded his agreement.

“So you wait until they start fight… you plan this?”

Logan let a little grin come to his face.

“Maybe.”

[Logan Shivers]

About an hour after arriving at the station, Logan found himself in a seedy tavern. Had it not been for his reptilian enhanced vision, he doubted he would be able to see much at all. It was barely lit, noisy and there was an atmosphere that you could almost cut with a knife it was so thick with pending violence. Hodd and he made their way to the bar and a droid attended to them. Hodd purchased two drinks, foaming green liquid in a wide tankard that smelled like swamp water.

“Good, taste better than smell. Make your scales curl!! We look for job, let Hodd talk, you listen yes?”

Logan nodded, happy to be passive in this environment that was so new to him. He took a sip of his drink and found it acceptable, but he was not sure why anyone would choose to drink it over something more refreshing. It was not until he had almost finished his drink and a warm feeling started to spread from his stomach outwards that he suspected there was more to the drink than he realised. He thought he might like it after all. Concentrating on the pleasant feeling, Logan drained the remainder of his drink and placed the empty tankard on the bar.

Hodd looked at the empty vesseland smiled, his own Drink was not even half gone Logan noted.

“You like huh?! You careful not drink too much, make sick.”

Logan ordered a refill and made a conscious effort to drink slower, determined not to finish his second before Hodd had finished his first drink.

“See Jawa there? Can hear what saying?”
“I can hear him talking, but don’t understand his language.”

Hodd frowned and them rolled his eyes,

“You need learn Galactic common, I get Yarik teach you.”

Logan was surprised to find out that Hodd could speak other languages, after all, his grasp of their own native tongue was tenuous.

“So what are they talking about?”
“Jawa ask if other Jawa know pilot with ship to get… not know, not hear. Come, we find out.”

Hodd did not wait for Logan to respond and sidled up to the two little creatures. He proceeded to have a conversation with them that Logan could not understand, but it went on for some time. Hodd purchased some more drinks, replenishing Logans and buying the two Jawa things a drink each, theirs a sandy coloured liquid in a triangular vial type glass.

After what seemed like an age, and four drinks for Logan who by now was feeling rreally quite pleasant, Hodd announced that they had struck a deal. He leant in to Logan,

“We do this we be rich. 10 million credits. They pay fuel too.”

Logans eyes must have bulged in their sockets. He had thought that owning a ship was riches enough, but to earn THAT much in one job?! That seemed too good to be true.

“This job… not so easy I take it?”

Hodd laughed and bought them more drinks, these were in narrow but tall fluted glasses and a luminescent blue.

“This one bit dangerous, but next one more – we get reputation, we get other job, better credits.”
“MORE?”

Logan tasted the new drink, this one was gooood, that funny warmth hit him immediately and made his lips tingle, then his tongue and all the way down his throat. He wanted more of that one!

Hodd went on to explain that 10 million was good, but not great, not when running costs of a ship came into it. But the job itself was not an easy one and not one many would take on for the Jawa, so completing it would put them in good favour and they had already promised several other possible jobs worth upwards of 50 million each. It seemed the diminutive Jawa in the burnt orange cloak was very well connected in the galactic underworld and could get plenty of well paid and very illegal work for the crew of the Chameleon.



A couple of hours and many drinks later, Hodd announced that they needed to return to the ship, Sanssk had been in touch and had apparenty made some purchases Hodd was eager to see. They moved off from the bar towards the exit only to have their path blocked by three hairy, ugly looking creatures about the same size as the Trandoshans and clearly heavily muscled. The trio clearly did not intend to move and stared at the two reptilians.

The leader of the trio barked something out at them in a guttural, deep voice and once again Logan understood nothing. Hodd made a heated reply and although Logan did not understand the content, he understood the tone. This was trouble of some sort. He began paying more attention and realised his body was already tingling and ready, the blood in his system already pumping around and the edges of his vision going a slightly pink colour. He welcomed the feeling, his battle frenzy took a lot of warming up most times, but here it was, ready to be unleashed.

The conversation became more heated and drew the attention of other patrons of the tavern. Soon a circle of interest had formed around the five with some clear space between them and the observers who all seemed excited. Logan spotted credits exchanging hands just before he saw one of the creatures, a Whiphid he later learnt, palmed a long bladed dagger.

That was all the signal Logan needed and he snatched his twin axes from their shoulder mounted harness. The verbal argument clearly done, the other two Whiphid creatures produced their own weapons, a spiked mace and a hatchet like blade.

Long blade stabbed at Logan who batted the knife aside with one axe while swinging the other at their leader who wielded the mace. He snapped his blocking axe up as soon as he had deflected the blow and punched the Whiphid in its long face while his second axe, blocked by the mace swumg down and across the creatures legs, cutting a deep gash across one as the creature was not quick enough to dodge. The hatchet came at his head and although he dodged aside enough to let it bounce of fhis thick shoulder pauldron, the blow was enough to turn his pink tinged vision red. Logan entered his battle rage and his conscious mind let it take over. Honed battle skills learned over years fighting in tribal wars were no match for a trio of thugs that had learned their craft by bullying others in bar brawls and the fight was short lived, even though two more Whiphids had entered the fray at one point.

As Logans senses slowly came back to him he found himself standing amongst the groaning bodies of five opponents, his axes wet with their blood and his chest heaving to drag in lungful’s of air. The gathered crown around him had mixed reactions, some seemed extremely happy and even clapped, whilst others scowled at him and muttered unheard curses under their breaths. Hodd stood to one side, a drink in one hand and a smile on his face. When he saw that Logan had spotted him he approached.

“You fight well!! Now we go.”

Logan was not sure what had just happened, why had the fight happened? Why had Hodd not taken part and left him to five attackers? But his questions would have to wait as Hodd had put his drink down on a table and was walking out without waiting to see if Logan followed. He bent down and ripped off a chunk of cloth from the cloak of one of his opponents and wiped his axes clean of their blood. He threw the rag and put his blades back into their place on his shoulder harness and with a final look around at the dispersing crowd, he walked out of the tavern to find Hodd.

[Logan Shivers]

By the time he had wound his way around the stations twisting corridors and found his way back to the Chameleon, Logans temper had cooled a bit. Seeing that Hodd had got the rest of the crew busy loading provisions, he held his tongue and vented his remaining anger through the hard labour of shifting an endless number of crates onto the ship.

Hours later, the Chameleon was speeding through space to a distant hyperlane entry point and the crew were gathered together in the galley. Yarik had been the last to join them, coming through from the cockpit once he was happy that the ship was set on the right course and could continue for a while on its limited capability autopilot. With the entire crew in the small room, conditions were cramped so Hodd did not waste time.

“Got job details when we leave station, quarter payment upfront.”

He held up a datapad that was glowing with several lines of text.

“We go Daupherm. Hidden city on ocean, Empire build storm trooper armour. Have pass for system security, Jawa bribe many. Empire security think we go get astromech droids they build same city, crates full of armour not droid.”

As he finished explaining the first part of their job, a silence descended on the room. Sneaking into Imperial space, onto one of their planets and stealing restricted technology was no small deal. If they were caught, if this went wrong… it would be the end of them. This was not messing with pirates or drug lords or even with small planetary governments, this was messing with the Galactic Empire. Yarik broke the silence.

“You are crazy. How much they offer to make you so crazy?”

Hodd smiled.

“10 million credits. All fuel paid, 2 million bonus we do quick.”

Another silence. That was probably more than the Chameleon was worth. It did not make this job any less dangerous, but at least now they could see what made it so appealing to Hodd. And if this was the Jawa idea of a small job to test them… future payouts and future risks promised to be far greater.

“Yarik, you get us Daupherm quick as Chameleon go. Tell me when have ETA.”

And with that, the meeting was over. Hodd returned to his cabin, the sisters scrambled out and headed towards their beloved engines, no doubt to tinker and tweak them until satisfied that they would operate at maximum capability, Yarik returned to the cockpit and Sanssk returned to his own cabin, giving Logan a toothy grin on the way past.

“We get rich boy, you our lucky charm me thinks.”
Logan did not respond, he still had not got a clear picture of quite how powerful and cruel the Empire was and how badly all non humans got treated by their military. As such, despite being impressed with the payment they would receive, what preoccupied Logan was the incident in the tavern and he was not willing to just let it be. He waited for Sanssk to close the door to his cabin and made his way to Hodds quarters. He tried the door controls and found it unlocked so he opened it and stepped in before the door had fully slid open.

Hodd was startled by the unannounced entry and glared at the intruder.

“What you want?”

“I want to know what in the hells happened at the tavern, you lost your backbone and no longer fight?!”

That made Hodds temper flare further, calling a Trandoshan too scared to fight was grave insult indeed.

“know-nothing pup! You fresh from home, you let Hodd do what right, you learn, you not insult!”

“Then tell me why you let me fight alone.”

Hodd took a few steadying breaths and finally nodded in ascent.

“They local gang, no trained fighters, thugs. Well known gang. You a nobody. You fight five and win, you less nobody. I help you make name, get feared, get respect.”

Logan thought about this for a while before responding.

“So you are saying that by letting me beat those thugs, I made a scene that will be talked about, rumours will spread and if we go back to that station again, I will have a bit more respect from…. From who? The drunks in the tavern? Not the gang, they will surely want to correct that mistake and make sure they win next time we meet. Your point makes no sense.”

“Make name in underground. Tavern full of underground. Gang just thugs, not worry about. You see, and if fight gang again, win again, better name. Trust Hodd.”
Logan kept silent while he thought this through again, then finally asked,

“If they started to get the better of me, if I was not winning…”

“Hodd help. But you no need help so Hodd not help.”

Finally satisfied with that answer, Logan left the cabin without another word. He returned to the mess and found a half drunk bottle of something called Rum. He took a swig, nearly chocked on the fiery liquid and then took a second large slug. He gritted his teeth against the burn and refusing to let it get the better of him.

By his third attempt he was already better prepared for the heat and this time noticed the flavour. His fourth swallow of the brownish liquid he noted the warmth spreading out from his stomach. He decided he liked this drink and would have to find out if they had more of it onboard.

[Logan Shivers]

The following year was a turbulent one for Logan and the crew of the Chameleon. They landed several contracts for the Jawa Hodd met at the illicit space station, each one being more lucrative and more dangerous than the last. This of course resulted in the crew spending large periods of time confined in their small ship and perhaps inevitably Logan became much closer to the existing crew
With Logan and Sanssk using their considerable combat skills on several occasions to get the crew out of difficult situations, the pair ended up growing particularly close. The unlikely partnership saw Logan delve deeper and deeper into the world of gambling and drinking and eventually drug taking. The stimulation just never seemed to be enough though and so what began as recreational enjoyment became an abusive addiction to anything that would give Logan some form of high.

This was not discouraged by Hodd as it also made Logan much more dangerous to any outsiders to their crew and his reputation in the underworld grew to be quite fearsome. Had things continued in this manner, there is no doubt that as bright as his flame may have ended up burning, it would end up being a very short lived flame as this was very much the way of things in the dangerous world of the galactic underworld.