Last Chance: Myn and Lara - pt. 13


The Crater was less crowded than it had been the previous afternoon, and Myn moved right up to the bar, where Rij was in conversation with a middle-aged woman. "Hey, Officer Jidone!" Rij called out, seemingly grateful for any excuse to break off his conversation with the other customer.

At the mention of his assumed rank, the woman shot him a harsh glare and beat a rather hasty retreat. Myn looked after her retreating back, and arched a questioning brow at Rij. The lean man's face creased into a sour grin. "Muckraker," he said by way of explanation. "She's researching some story about tariffs. I can't have her in here picking on my customers, it'd give the place a bad name."

Myn shrugged, unfamiliar with the issue in question. "There's a big mess about it," Rij explained, "A lot of smaller traders are getting hounded out of business by Triad-backed consortiums, like One-Way Freight. Monopolies are supposed to be illegal, but when they're supported by the government..."

"So what's the problem with the reporter?" Myn asked.

"She did up a profile on a friend of mine a few months back, dug up a lot of stuff from his past, you know, painful stuff. He'd grown so far beyond that, he was like a different guy, but there it all was, out in the open like that..."

The pilot nodded and gestured for Rij to continue. Myn knew a few people who fit that description, including the woman he had come to Corellia to meet. Rij finished his reasoning. "Kerro lost a lot of business because of that. Ended up going broke and running out on a couple of debts, and there's everyone saying, 'Good thing she told us!', when it's because she exposed it all in the first place that he had the problems. So... she's not welcome at The Crater."

"Ah," Myn replied, filing the information away for later. "One of the privileges of owning your own business, I guess."

"One of the few," Rij agreed with a wide grin. "What'll you have, Officer?

Myn just shook his head. "Nothing, thanks, unless you have some sunfruit juice or something like that...?"

"Sunfruit?" Rij almost laughed. "I guess you folks get more of the prime goods at Centrepoint than I'd thought. We haven't seen any sunfruit down here in at least two years. The best I can do is maja juice..."

"Maja's fine," Myn said amiably, silently berating himself for making yet another error in the increasingly difficult task of maintaining his cover. He'd never considered the degree of research that might be required to convincingly play someone else for days on end, and he'd almost compromised his facade in two mistakes just that day, already.

Even so, he'd established his identity as a social person, and he didn't want to seem out of character by suddenly retreating from these new contacts, especially when his intentions to help them were genuine. Rij brought him his drink, the glass cold and moist from condensation.

"Bit early in the day for a drink, ain't it, CorSec?" spoke a gruff voice from out of the darkness at the other end of the bar.

Myn turned and met the sharp eyes of the veteran he'd met the day before. "It's just fruit juice," he reassured the man.

"Sure it is," Axel replied, giving his own glass of lomin a tilt and a swirl. He half-raised it to his lips, then seemed to reconsider and set it back to the bar with a decisive click.

Myn watched him, catching the sudden hesitation. He doesn't want to drink it, he realised, Yet he does... He had seen the same compulsion in a few of his father's friends, and suddenly recognised it for what it was. The retired soldier was an alcoholic, and Myn realised that some of his father's buddies had been as well. He'd seen it for all those years, but only now did he recognise it.

He gave his own glass a pensive swirl. "It's not so early as all that," Myn said carefully, chary of the other man's temper, "But I sure could go for a solid meal."

Axel raised a grizzled brow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Myn replied easily, letting the invitation go unspoken.

Axel nodded and hauled himself to his feet. "I might know a place. Not fancy, but they serve good food, and lots of it."

"Sounds good," Myn replied, and slid a credit chit across the counter. Rij gave him a perceptive nod as he left with the older ex-soldier, leaving both their drinks unfinished on the polished surface of the bar.

~*~

"...Then LiHare went down, hard, but still firing. I never seen nothin' like that," Axel finished, "The guy practically had his leg shot off and he's still shooting. Not just hangin' on the trigger, either, but pickin' his targets, aimin', and firin'."

Myn rocked back in his seat and shook his head. "I don't know that I would have been able to do that," he admitted.

His companion met his eyes with a sudden look of serious appraisal. "Well, y'know how it goes sometimes. The training takes over. You..." he broke off to give Myn's face another long look, "Yeah, you could have. I've seen your kind before."

Myn's eyebrow quirked upwards at that, but he didn't ask what the other man meant. It was bad form to question a compliment like that from a veteran. "Thanks," he said finally.

They had begun the meal with Myn's usual list of questions about what Axel might know about the corruption in the local Corellian Security precinct, and the vet pulled no punches with his answers. It was only towards the end of their lunch that he'd begun reminiscing, and Myn had been too polite to stop him, familiar though he was with such rambling tales told by old soldiers everywhere. Fortunately Axel was gifted with an engaging style, and had some pretty impressive war stories in his repertoire, so Myn didn't even have to feign attention: he was genuinely intrigued by his companion's stories.

Axel nodded, and went back to the last remnants of his meal. "I guess you don't miss it much, all the action. You probably keep pretty busy."

Myn almost nodded, but caught himself. "Not really. Centrepoint's a pretty quiet posting."

Axel blinked and his eyes met Myn's squarely, before he looked back down at his plate. "I guess it is."

On the surface, Myn brushed the older man's comments off, but he couldn't still the twinge of trepidation that Axel suspected something was awry with Myn's persona. He recalled the advice of the Intelligence personnel who had briefed him when he'd taken delivery of his documents: 'When in doubt, redirect the conversation. Most people love to talk about themselves, so that's pretty safe territory.'

"I guess you miss it though," he said quietly.

The other man grinned wide. "We all do. Whether we admit it or not. You must have met them, the career guys who don't know any other life, and ain't much suited to it if they do end up out of it?"

Myn nodded, thinking not of any of his companions from his service days, but rather a few of the pilots he flew with in the New Republic. The one man who had helped him through the worst of his emotional difficulties was a perfect example of what Axel was talking about. Wes Janson was a warrior born, and would in all likelihood die with his hand on a yoke and his finger on a trigger, somewhere in the depths of space.

"Well, they're the happiest of us," Axel finished Myn's thought. "No doubts, no questions, no wondering what the hell to do with the rest of their lives, y'know?" His voice was bitter. There was nothing Myn could say to that.

He watched as the older man finish his meal in near silence, keeping the sadness he felt hidden away behind his eyes, but not denying its presence. He knew too many men who might someday be just like this old soldier in the waning of their lives, but Myn was doing what he could, here and now, to help this man and his friends. Maybe someone would likewise help them if they ever came to this point.

~*~


part 14

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