Han Solo
Mos Eisley Cantina, Tatooine
With an ardent tap against the tabletop, the amber liquid sloshed against the sides of the glass, threatening to spill over the rim as Han Solo carelessly fidgeted with his drink. After sitting for hours in the dark and humid environment of the Mos Eisley Cantina, it had become a bit of a habit. It was the least he could do to pass the time; despite its reputation for lawlessness and fast money, Han found that Tatooine just wasn’t all that interesting. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t be here at all, but unfortunately, necessity had forced him to show his hand. If he wanted to stay alive to see the twin suns rise tomorrow, he had to find a job; preferably an easy job, such as a charter...and quick. Jabba the Hutt was not the forgiving type...
“Hell, it wasn’t my fault,” he mumbled under his breath, glancing angrily across the table at his Wookiee co-pilot, Chewbacca. That was probably the twentieth time he had repeated that mantra to his partner since arriving on this dust bowl, and by now, it had lost all meaning. The Wookiee simply angled his head to the side and took it in stride.
His friend’s silence only seemed to fuel Han’s resentment. Taking another swig of his drink, he launched into the story once again in an effort to justify it to himself. Maybe he had missed something?
“That Imperial cruiser came out of nowhere,” he pointed out, drilling his index finger into the table. “I couldn’t run at that close range. I had no choice but to let them board. Do you blame me for trying to protect our investment?” He sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “How was I supposed to know the cargo wouldn’t be there when we went back for it?”
This time, Chewie offered a single, mournful growl.
Narrowing his eyes, Han only sneered. “Don’t give me that. I did tag them…” He shook his head incredulously. “You saw the scans...they were gone. Those damn bucketheads probably picked up the canisters for themselves. Glitterstim’s not just popular on the black market anymore…”
Silence followed that statement, giving Han a moment to reflect on the implications. They both knew what they were up against now that their mission had failed, but neither one of them wanted to face the inevitable. Finally, it was the Wookiee who took the initiative and voiced the impossible question through a series of grunts and howls.
“I dunno, pal,” Solo sighed with resignation. “But we need to do something soon. If I don’t reimburse Jabba for the money he lost on those canisters…” Raising his hand, he made a cutting gesture along his throat. “I’m a dead man.”
