“Come on up here!” shouts Dex from the captain’s chair loud enough for the other two to hear him. He sets down the datapad that Cal had given them to help navigate. He’d found the comlink code easily in the pad.

A few moments later, Jarren appears at the bulkhead door to the cockpit with a groggy, but steadily improving Ian.

Dex punches some digits into the communications unit. “I’ve got Cal’s comlink, thought you guys might want to listen in, it’s audio only.”

Jarren and Ian nod and slide into the co-pilot and astrogation positions. Soon, the transceiver crackles to life. Ian recognizes the voice as Cal’s.

“Callouste here,” he says.

“Greetings Cal, this is Dex Willit. We, uh, met the other day,” replies Dex.

“Ah yes, hello Dex,” whispers Cal in a hopeful tone. “Any news?”

“Not yet. I’ve been looking into the thing. I wanted to find out if Coozer knows of the arrangement.”

An audible sigh is followed by Cal responding, “No. Coozer doesn’t know of our…special plans for that razorslime dirtbag. We just do a lot of work together, or at least we used to anyway. He shouldn't be too nosy. Tell him to talk with me if he starts asking questions.” Jarren raises one eyebrow, wondering if this is some sort of new or important information. The Omwati, of course, doesn't have the benefit of having dealt directly with Cal before, so is operating with less than full knowledge of the situation.

Dex shakes his head at Jarren, indicating that he knows about Cal and Coozer having business dealings in the past before continuing his questions. “Say, I’ve heard about Tatooine, but how thoroughly do things really get investigated around here? I mean, every planet has it’s own peculiarities, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don't know what you mean. What do you mean?” asks Cal in return. “The law?”

“Like in Bespin, for example, if someone commits a crime there, they look into it until they find the culprits,” explains Dex.

Cal sounds suspicious. “Are you thinking of backing out or something?”

“No. I just want to know. I need this kind of information beforehand so I can know what to expect and so I can plan contingencies.” He looks between Ian and Jarren. Ian nods slightly in agreement. Jarren just sits there, looking stern and inscrutible.

“Hrmmph. When can I expect some news? I miss my angel so much,” Cal laments.

Dex looks annoyed. He’s irritated that Cal seems to be avoiding answering his question about the law, neatly changing the subject. Dex is too used to dealing with shady characters to be swayed by an amateur like Cal, however. “We’re looking into the arrangement still. We’ll let you know when we have a plan so you can be sure to have an alibi when the time comes.” His voice hardens. “Now, I need to know about the law. How diligent are they? I must know.”

Cal stammers a little, still trying to figure a way out to avoid the question. He gives up after a second. “Not very…. Don’t worry about the law. This isn’t Bespin.” Ian senses that Cal is holding back, but keeps quiet, only noting it mentally.

“How many people know about your problems with Joko? It won’t be good for any of us if you’re the prime suspect. And, if we ask around, we don’t want to ask the wrong people.” Dex continues the thought silently in his head, “The last thing we need is for this tubby old fart to get pinched and rat us out.”

At this point, Cal seems like he’s tiring of the interrogation. “Everyone knows about me and Treese, but you’re going to be doing a lot of people a favor. Don’t worry about Cal. Just take care of Joko like you promised. You're being paid well.”

“Ok Cal, “ quips Dex, rolling his eyes for Ian and Jarren’s benefit. “One more thing. When this goes down, we’re going to need our ship ready. I’m not sure if you told Coozer to hold off on repairs until you tell him otherwise or if you told him to fix it but keep it from flying you give the word…”

“Oh. Uh, no,” says Cal, obviously having the thought for the first time. The three in the cockpit can practically hear the idea settle into Cal’s head once Dex mentions it. Dex, grits his teeth, knowing he slipped up, even if it was fairly minor.

“Don’t even think about it, “ Dex states icily, leaving the aftertaste of a threat in the air.

Cal pursues, deciding to pretend that he had in fact set orders with Coozer. His ruse is transparent, however. “Well, how do I know you won’t just get your ship fixed at my expense and leave then?”

Dex breathes deeply, knowing that if he doesn’t give a little, the whole thing may fall apart. He decides that as long as the ship gets fixed, Cal can hold the metaphorical keys; a lock is easy enough to pick. He smirks at his own cleverness. “Taking precautions is fine, go ahead and have your failsafe, just as long as the ship is ready otherwise.”

Cal sounds somewhat pleased, like a child who learned how to do something new. “I’ve got to go. You let me know when you have your plan.”

“Out, “ says Dex and cuts off the transmission.

The three of them are convinced as ever that Cal is an amateur trying to play with the big boys. Had he tried to take care of this himself, he would have surely failed in some miserable and catastrophic way. The three also got the distinct impression that Cal was not telling the whole story, especially with regard to the law. No one is quite certain why he would balk at describing the consequences of getting caught, if any. At a minimum, everyone knows that Tatooine is about as lawless of a planet as they come. On top of that, from what they’ve heard, the law basically will only try to stop crime in progress if it's convenient. It would be doubtful that the police would even pursue a criminal who flees the scene. As far as they know, the police’s main duty is to minimize the damage to the planet’s commerce.

Dex shrugs, looking at his unlikely partners, calculating their reacitons. “Time to have a talk with Coozer, I suppose.”

“I’m going to tag along,” says the Omwati.

Ian waves them off, rubbing his temples as he heads back to the cargo bay to scrounge up some food, water, and pills from the first aid kit to help with his headache. Dex shrugs again before sliding out of the pilot’s chair and between the Omwati and the other Human. He heads for the crew door with Jarren in tow.

“Be back in a while Ian,” Jarren calls down the hall.

Dex keys the door open. A blast of hot, gritty air greets the two of them as they make their way down the ladder onto the landing pad. Apparently, the dual suns never give up their attempts at creating a hellish existence for the inhabitants of this planet. Even at this hour, what could still be considered morning by normal standards, the heat is already stifling.

As they walk across the pad toward the hanger, Coozer is visible just inside, wearing his greasy flight suit, hunched over a welder of some sort, fiddling with it. An R2 unit sits idly near the welder, beeping advice to Coozer. A container of alien ale rests on a cooler next to the welder, within arm’s reach of the mechanic. He turns, hearing the two customers’ approach, pausing to grab the ale and take a large pull, then wiping his mouth off with a stained brown sleeve.

“Hell of a morning, eh fellas? Heh!” he asks good-naturedly. “That was some performance with those Stormtroopers, Mr. Dex.” He hoists his ale in a show of respect, displaying a goofy smile.

Jarren eyes Coozer’s ale skeptically, wondering about the fortitude and discipline of a mechanic who’d start drinking this early in the day. He keeps quiet however, determined to let Dex do the talking for now.

“Morning Coozer” replies Dex, adding a mocking little hand flourish as if he was greeting royalty. “What’s the estimate on when the ship will be ready?”

Coozer tosses his now empty ale container into a pile of rusted parts and pulls a fresh one out of the cooler, offering it first to Dex, then to Jarren. Dex refuses, never drinking before breakfast. Jarren refuses as well, considering it a weakness. “Suit yerself,” he drawls, then points at the ship, squinting. “About the ship, that depends on you fellas. I’m figuring five days or so. However, if you let me put your droids to work, I can shorten that up to two or three days.”

“No problem. Use them as you see fit," grants Dex, casting a glance at Jarren since the Tin Man is ostensibly his. "That protocol droid is kind of lippy though.”

Coozer chuckles. “Ok, I’ll keep that in mind.” He continues, “There’s also the problem of your sensor array. There’s no repairing that, it’s going to have to be replaced. I called around this morning and found another one in Mos Eisly, but it’s going to take a day to have it transported out here. Cal will be billed, of course, so no worries there. These things have a tendency to take longer than they say though, so don’t be surprised if we end up waiting on it longer than expected. Who knows though?”

Apparently referring to Cal, Coozer rambles on, “This is going to cost that old boy a lot of favors and credit. What’d you fellas sell him anyway? Something for that old heap of a yacht he’s been working on forever?” He takes a heavy drink of ale.

Dex laughs, seizing the opportunity to ingratiate himself. “Yep, a part for his sail barge. It’s funny, he reminds me of an old friend of mine from Bespin. He got one of those old X-29 speeders when he was 16. A rusted old piece of junk that he wanted to restore. He’s still working on it, and I swear it’s no better off than when he got it.”

Coozer grins and takes another drink, nodding like an idiot. “That’s Cal alright. I kind of miss having him around though. Did I tell ya that we used to be in business together?”

“Cal mentioned that. What happened?” coaxes Dex, not wanting Coozer to clam up.

“Damn Rodian harlot started coming around, worming her way in with Cal. Before you know it I had to split off our business, else she would have taken my share too.”

“I don’t follow,” states Dex, wondering if he's found some kind of information goldmine. Jarren looks intrigued.

Another empty ale is tossed in the junk pile after Coozer polishes it off. “Just a sec, might as well tell you the whole thing since you seem interested. Not like it’s any secret.” He opens the cooler and pulls out another alien drink.

“About a year ago, this Rodian girl, Treese, shows up, makin’ eyes at Cal. She was fresh in from off world. Said her grandmother was a refugee that came here about 10 years after the mining industry collapsed. Supposedly anyway. The truth is, I don’t think she has any relatives here at all. She seems like a real ringer, if you catch my drift.”

“Either way, she mesmerized Cal. I mean he was dumb with love – still is too. He’d do anything for her, and she wasted no time taking advantage of that. She drained his savings and had him sell off most of the valuable things he owned so he could buy her more and more extravagant things on their trips to Mos Eisley. I tried to talk sense to him, but he was blind. He couldn’t see what she was doing to him. After a while, it was affecting our business. Not only that, but Cal was thinking of selling off interest in the company. Well, no way in hell I was going to lose my port here, I mean this is my baby, so we split.” He looks around the dumpy backwoods port with unabashed pride and cracks open his latest ale. “He moved outside of town, as you fellas know, and isn’t much more than a glorified trash man now. Damn bloodsucker drained him dry then left him. Practically the entire town could see that one comin'. Heh! Left him for Gardulla’s boy, Joko. Sad thing is, it was probably him all along, sending her out to try to get a grip on the business. Lucky we split off when we did. It would have been bad news to have my business under that guy's thumb.”

“Tell me about this Joko,” prods Dex as Jarren's eyes narrow.

“Yeah, he’s a real charmer alright,” Coozer shakes his head with a snort. "You can see Joko yourself if you want. He's almost always hanging around The Oasis with his brother Leem, the bartender, and that other thug. Like I said, he’s one of Gardulla’s boys; provides ‘protection’ to the local businesses, if you know what I mean. If you don’t know what I mean, well, it means he takes our money. Heh! He’s getting’ a lot meaner lately too. Peoples startin’ to turn to the Empire as the law, undermining Joko’s business. Those Stormtroopers aren’t a bad lot; much more fair and predictable than the Hutts. Cheaper too. No one has challenged Joko outright yet because they’re still afraid of getting’ Gardulla upset.”

“Who’s Gardulla?” asks Dex, determined to keep Coozer talking.

“She runs these parts. Big Hutt. Crime lord. I hear she was sent here for her own protection. Some infighting of the families on Nal Hutta or somethin’. She, uh, runs the slave trade on Tatooine and Ryloth, so I hear. Oh, and I hear she got that by selling herself to Jabba as his girlfriend. Can you imagine? Dis – gus –ting.” He shivers half for real, half to demonstrate his distaste for Hutt physiology. Coozer leans back against a dirty workbench, smirking and staring off vacantly, probably working out the twisted mechanics of a Hutt union, while taking another sip of ale, apparently finished.

After a few seconds of silence, Dex decides that Coozer has told what he knows. He figures that now is as good a time as any to try and get a little spending cash. “Hey, I happened to come across these holos,” says Dex as he pulls a copy of “Secrets of Twi’light” out of his pocket, showing it to Coozer. “Would you be interested in purchasing one, or maybe some for your friends too? We need a few credits to buy some clothes, food, and other supplies and are kind of short at the moment.”

Coozer handles the holo, looking it over absently. “Nah, no thanks. Not my thing. Oh, hey, that reminds me though. I saw a power droid in your cargo bay yesterday when I was running my checks. Seein’ as how your laser turret was vaporized, I was thinking we could make a trade. I have three old turrets in storage (meaning in his front yard). I’d be willin’ to trade you fellas that droid for one of ‘em. I’d sell you the others too at a good price if you want. Can't be too careful with pirates shooting you up.”

Dex glances at Jarren. “We’ll have to think that over and get back to you.”

“That’s fine, but if you want me to put it in, you should let me know before too long.” He takes another drink and looks at the container fondly.

Jarren has been silent throughout, but speaks up now. “Coozer, do you know anyone in the area, by chance, that is considered by the town folk as a wizard or someone that has strange abilities or powers?”

The disheveled mechanic pauses from his drinking for a moment to consider the question. “Hmmm. Relmond Digoth had some strange powers…blew a crater about 300 meters across over in the Jundland Wastes a while back. His wife claimed he was out hunting. The Imperials took him away I think. There were some black uniformed officials asking questions about him afterward, but that was it.”

“M’lea Wilkeon is supposedly a wizard too, come to think of it. She bakes the best trekevberry pies in the galaxy. It’s so good it’s unnatural. Heh!” he finishes, pleased with himself and takes another drink of ale.