A Bothan
By Michael Butz


"Fuck!" Tehmon shrieked, waving his finger about. The second time today now he jammed his finger, the same one at that, working on this heap of junk. 

Being an experienced engineer of sorts, having tinkered with droids and speeders since he could hold a wrench, he knew what he was about. These damn new Soro Sub energy converters were a joke. It seemed to be a completely different part now, compared to others of its type. His hand would be thoroughly cut up before he was finished with the blasted pile of bolts.

If he could only find a converter with the capacity to comply with his Sullustian reactor; a very expensive custom part ordered directly from a well known manufacturer on Sullust; he would solve his annoying problem. The reactor pushed out very high performance but regularly fried the converter, and on occasion his anti-grav generators needed minor repair from the overload as well. Looks as though he might have to send away for a Sullustian energy converted, and put another major dent in is bank account.

At least the Z-95 Headhunter chassis was a steal. It had been decommissioned not to long ago from military use, and they were practically giving them away. The ship was in good shape, only needing a few repairs here and there and came with a full set of parts that fetched a good deal of credits in town; it nearly paid for itself.

After another look at his hand, Tehmon decided to close the hood of the Z-95. His finger was mangled this time, and might need stitches. Quickly Tehmon ducked under one of the gray steel wings of the ship and made his way to the large sink in the corner of his garage.

The room was a clutter with worn out parts, tools hanging on the walls and other odds and ends all around. To anyone else it would seem completely a mess, but to Tehmon it was just right. Despite the apparent disorder he could easily find a specific part or tool within moments.

At the sink Tehmon loosed the cool water valve and proceeded to wash the grime and blood from his hand. A trip into town would be necessary now, to make a visit to the doctors for a quick patch. Hopefully his swoop bike wouldn't shit on him and break down again; then he'd have to get it cloned and that ain't cheap.

Tehmon grabbed one of the clean rags hanging on a rack next to the sink and wrapped his finger tight, which was finally starting to hurt. Tightening the water valve Tehmon turned and headed out of the garage.

Walking down the adobe steps into his domed house Tehmon could hear he had left his HoloNet on in the living room making his long fuzzy ears furrow. It was on a news network from Coruscant. The story was the same crap they've been spewing for months now. Sensational eiopi shit about the rebel terrorists and how they were spreading fear and hatred through out the galaxy. There were images of a skirmish recently fought near the Yavin system, and a recording of the "criminal" leader of the regime, Leiha Organa giving a speech to the senate.

The reporter was feigning concern for the Republic and the ES was noticeably thick. With a great haste Tehmon found the remote control and turned the damned thing off. He couldn't stand the news now-a-days, ever since Palpatine took control of the Republic it has been constant propaganda.

At least he lived on in the boondocks of a backwater moon; Talus was far away from those damn shock troopers, or storm or whatever they call themselves. With their damn inspections and false arrests. Tehmon caught his mind wandering and continued on. If only he had some spice he wouldn't be feeling his finger, but for now he was looking for some ice.