Part 1

  The sun was going down and darkness was falling as Carlo and Charles rode into Paradise from the direction of the desert. They were tired, having ridden most of the day in order to reach the town by nightfall. The fathiers were tired as well. Carlo could tell that they’d slowed a step or two since the morning.

  Charles was almost asleep in the saddle. He didn’t seem to take notice as they rode into town, his head seemed to wobble a little with every step.

  The town seemed very different from Utopia, at least to Carlo’s eye. While Utopia had more wooden structures arranged along a single street, Paradise was made of concrete buildings laid out in a haphazard fashion with streets going this way and that, some of them so narrow that a single speeder could barely fit. Other streets, while wider, were still difficult to pass through with speeders and other vehicles parked along the sides. Most of the buildings were as high as two stories and a few went as high as three, some had basements dug beneath them.

  There were people milling about attending to their respective business. The sight of a pair of fathiers coming in from the desert with a pair of bedraggled riders did not seem to be of interest to anyone.

  As they navigated the mostly narrow and sometimes winding streets Carlo kept an eye out for a place to stay. Finally, as they rounded a gentle curve he saw a hotel at the base of a shallow cul de sac. It appeared to be a shabby establishment, even by this town’s apparent standards, made of the usual gray concrete and topped with a smooth dome. Carlo thought they might have some luck here as there were already half a dozen fathiers tied up outside in addition to several speeders along one side. The building itself was wide and there were two entrances along a full width, covered porch. Both entrances were marked with a sign, one denoting the entrance to the hotel itself and the other to the attached saloon. There were a few chairs along the porch, none currently occupied.

  Carlo directed the fathiers to the hitching posts already in use by the other beasts and dismounted. He helped his sleepy companion down as well and untied his supply bag from the saddle which he slung over one shoulder.

  Carlo and Charles went up to the porch and climbed the three steps closest to the hotel entrance. Carlo pushed the door open and they went inside. The lobby was not large but didn’t feel cramped. The ceiling was high and there were unoccupied couches arranged in a semi circle in front of a large stone fireplace. Above the hearth there was a display screen that seemed to be showing a local news report. Beyond the couches was a counter behind which was a pale green Rodian. Like all Rodians, he had a triangular shaped face with rounded ears rising on stocks from his head and long, drawn out snout.

  As Carlo and Charles approached the Rodian cleared his throat and spoke, “Good evening. How can I help you?”

  Carlo stepped up to the counter. “We’re needing a place to stay for the night.”

  “Of course!” the clerk said cheerfully.

  This was the part Carlo was not looking forward to. “You accept barter for payment?”

  The clerk shook his head. “Only money, sorry.”

  Carlo sighed and looked down at Charles who had slipped down to his knees and was leaning heavily against his leg.

  The clerk leaned over the counter and taking pity on the pair of strangers, he sighed as well. “What have you got to trade?”

  “A fathier. He’s young, in good shape.” Carlo answered.

  The clerk shook his head. “I don’t have any use for a fathier.” He paused and then continued, “But I know someone who might.” He looked again at the sleepy Charles. “I’ll introduce you in the morning. You can pay up then.”

  The Rodian clerk opened a drawer and pulled out a key that he handed to Carlo. “Room 27, down that hall,” he said, pointing to his left. “We do have a stable out back, you can take your fathier back there.”

  “We have two, that okay?” Carlo asked.

  The clerk nodded. “Of course.”

  Carlo bent and picked Charles up. He went down the left hall and found room 27. The key allowed him access and he stepped inside. It was a small room with only a single bed and a tiny table at one side. There was a refresher, no bigger than a small closet but after their travels, it looked pretty inviting indeed.

  Carlo placed Charles on the bed but he awoke suddenly sitting up straight. He looked quizzically at Carlo.

  Carlo patted him on the head. “We’ll stay here for the night. Will you stay here while I attend to the beasts?”

  The boy nodded and then laid down, curling up with the pillow. Carlo pulled the thin blanket up around his shoulders.

  Carlo set his bag on the table. He put the room key in a pocket and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He went back out to the front of the hotel where he’d left the fathiers. He untied their lead ropes and led them around behind the hotel. As he approached the small stable behind the main building, a younger Rodian, came out to meet him. He had a pale green coloring and his facial features were so similar to the clerk that Carlo knew they had to be father and son.

  The young man spoke, “I’m Cress. Can I help with your fathiers?”

  Carlo nodded and the young man took the ropes and led the animals into the stable where he removed their tack and gave them some grasses to eat.

  Carlo watched the young Rodian do his work. When it was done, he thanked the young man and asked, “Is there a communication device I can use? I need to contact someone in Utopia.”

  Cress cocked his head to one side. “Utopia? Yeah, we have a comlink at the front desk.”

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  *****

  The next morning Carlo and Charles went down to the front desk. The older Rodian, Horace, was tending to his morning accounts. He had the display screen on over the empty fireplace but was ignoring it in favor of the tablet into which he was punching numbers. He didn’t seem to notice his two guests until they were standing in front of him. “Good morning! How did you sleep? Everything is satisfactory, I hope?”

  Carlo nodded. Horace leaned over his counter and smiled at Charles, “And you young man? How are you this morning?”

  Charles shyly tried to hide himself behind Carlo and didn’t answer.

  Carlo patted the boy’s shoulder. “He's doing ok. Just doesn’t talk much.”

  Horace nodded. “You ready to settle up?”

  Carlo nodded back. “We just need to sell a fathier and we’ll pay.”

  “Oh, yes!” The old Horace tapped his forehead recalling their conversation from the day before. He retrieved a comlink from his pocket and activated the device. “Cress, come up to the desk.”

  “On my way,” came the reply from the tiny speaker.

  Carlo leaned on the desk. “Do you happen to have a way to call out of town? To Utopia?”

  Horace nodded. “Of course!” He pointed to a small room just off the desk. Through the door Carlo could see a pair of chairs in front of a desk with a small display screen set on top. “The mining company has control of the com lines outside the city, so it costs a bit but if you can come up with the fee, we can call Utopia, no problem.”

  Carlo smiled. “Let’s see what we can get out of that fathier.”

  Cress appeared at that moment and Horace pointed out the main door. “Cress, take these two and their fathier down to see Timchuk.”

  “Right away!” The younger Rodian replied. “This way,” he said to Carlo and Charles as he led the way out of the front door.

  They took a detour around the back of the building to retrieve the chestnut fathier. Carlo spent a few moments checking on their other fathier. It was munching contentedly on some grasses and seemed none the worse for the hard trip through the desert the day previously.

  Cress attached a lead rope to the chestnut’s halter and, when Carlo was ready, they led him out of the stable. Cress led them out to the Main Street. “It’s not too far,” he said. “This way.”

  They walked almost leisurely along the twisting, narrow lane. There were few people milling about as they passed some of the shops that were opening. Carlo took note of one that had several squat, round can-shaped droids out front. Part of the sign out front read, ‘Repairs’.

  A little ways further the narrow street opened into a large round marketplace. Several open air shops and vendors selling various products from shoes to fruit filled the space. Cress led them across the space to a hitching post where they secured the chestnut. Cress pointed to the nearby saloon. “My father’s friend, Timchuk, should be there. His family owns this whole market.”

  Cress led them up the three steps onto the porch of the concrete structure. It had the typical square base, off-gray in color, with the rounded dome on top. It had double doors made of wood that were flanked on either side with large picture windows.

  It was Carlo that led the others inside. The saloon smelled of cigarillos and cheap liquor. It was dimly lit by electric lights overhead and several wooden tables were scattered about without an apparent rhyme or reason. The bar was on the far side, tended by a huge Gamorrean, and occupied by a few scraggly denizens. At one of the tables sat a tall, lanky Wookiee with steel-gray fur. A heavy chrome colored cleaver hung at his side and a slug thrower was slung over his back. He was nursing a drink from a maroon ceramic mug and glared at Carlo as they entered the room.

  The bartender wiped his pig-like snout with the rag he’d been using to wipe out a mug, clearing his throat loudly he boomed across the bar, “Those two are too young to be in here!”

  Before Carlo could speak, the young Cress answered, “I am too old enough!”

  Carlo’s hand shot up, “We’re not here to argue age.”

  Cress swallowed his retort and his pride. “We’re just here to talk business with Timchuk.”

  The bartender snorted, wiping his ample snout a second time. “What business is that?”

  The young Rodian couldn’t quite control his temper though. “It’s definitely none of yours!” Cress spit back.

  This time Carlo put a hand on the young man’s shoulder to quiet him. He addressed the Gamorrean, “I just need to speak to Timchuk about a trade. Nothing more.”

  The bartender laughed at Cress’s expense. “The boss is in the back,” he said, pointing to a door at the far end of the bar.

  Carlo nodded his thanks and started for the door. Charles followed him closely with Cress straggling a bit behind, treating the bartender to a rude gesture that was completely ignored.

  When he reached the door, he knocked and a voice from within answered, “Enter.”

  The door opened and the three went into the room. Its walls were windowless and had only a large painting of a serene appearing lake with a forest in the background. The room was filled with ornamented furniture, including a large, rather nice desk which was occupied by an overweight middle aged man with a scruffy beard and a receding hairline. He raised his eyebrows just slightly when he first saw Carlo but then gestured at chairs across the desk from him. “Please sit.” When they had, he continued, “How is your father, Cress?”

  “He’s doing ok,” the young man replied with a somewhat lighter tone than he’d used with the bartender.

  “Excellent.” He turned his attention to Carlo. “And you are, sir?”

  “My name is Carlo. I’m a hunter from Utopia. I have a fathier to sell.”

  “So I’ve heard. My stable supervisor is looking him over now,” Timchuk said.

  Carlo nodded. “He’s in good shape. Fairly young but he did well crossing the sand.”

  Timchuk leaned back in his chair. “Is he fast?

  “Fast?” Carlo asked, somewhat confused at the question.

  “Young fathiers are often used on the racetrack here,” he explained.

  “I see. I ran him for a ways when I first got him and the beast was able to outpace the others who were there.”

  Timchuk steepled his fingers nervously. “May I ask,” he continued, “where you got him?”

  Carlo nodded. He saw very little point in hiding the truth at this point. “From a Narakan caravan.”

  “From a caravan, eh.” Timchuk repeated. “Any chance they’re going to show up on my doorstep tomorrow?”

  Carlo chuckled softly. “I doubt it. I think the disagreement they’re having with the other two caravans at the oasis will occupy them for a while.”

  Timchuk was stone faced for a few moments but then he broke into a huge grin, “Very well!” He picked up a comlink off the desk and making a poor attempt to hold back his laughter, spoke into it, “How’s that fathier?”

  The voice from the tiny speaker replied, “He’s in ok shape, boss.”

  “Thank you,” Timchuk answered and set the comlink down. “That means my stable supervisor thinks I should try to buy him from you. He just doesn’t think I should spend too much.”

  Carlo put on a wry grin. “I see. Then I’ll not ask for more than enough to pay for two day’s food and lodging. And a com call to Utopia.”

  Timchuk was getting into the spirit of a good negotiation but Carlo’s obviously intentionally low opening offer confused him.

  He changed the subject. “Can I ask you a question?”

  Carlo nodded politely.

  Timchuk lanes forward putting his elbows on his desk. “Are you Jedi?”

  Carlo froze for a moment and then stumbled over his reply, “Why do. . . why do you ask?”

  “Not many folks carry one of those.” The merchant pointed at the lightsaber but didn’t wait for an answer. He picked up a credit chit from his desk and handed it to Carlo. “This is enough for at least two weeks' food and lodging as well as your com call.”

  Carlo accepted the chit and placed it in his pocket. “My thanks.”

  “Not at all. If you find yourself in need of more, please let me know.”

  Carlo stood, offered a slight bow and led his two companions back into the bar. Once the door was closed behind them, Cress whispered, “What just happened in there? I didn’t think he’d outright cheat you but I didn’t expect him to be so. . . generous.”

  Carlo only shrugged.

  The young man shook his head in disbelief. “Wow. Not something you see every day.”

  As they left the bar he asked, “What’s a Jedi?”