BEN MERASSKA AND THE QUEST FOR THE... THING

[Ben Merasska]

ALLIANCE CONTROLLED MANAAN, 11 ABY


Manaan was hot. Humid air drifted in on a balmy breeze, and the sun glared down almost like it knew that he had long acclimated to the chilled and recycled air of ship filters.

Ben Merasska couldn't help but shift a bit as the Alliance man looked over the last of the crates being loaded onto the hoverskids. It had been almost a blue milk run, but as a freighter man, he was only too familiar with clients altering the deal at the last second. The Alliance was better about it than most, but that didn't mean it didn't happen with them too.

To keep himself from moving around too much, he focused mainly on the Alliance man's meticulously trimmed mutton chops and mustache.

'Those can't be regulation,' Ben thought to himself, looking away quickly when the Alliance man looked up at him.

"Right, so everything's here," the Alliance man said.

"That's, uh, good," Ben responded. The Alliance man smiled and laughed as if Ben had said a joke. Ben laughed nervously back.

"Sorry for the intense inspection, but it's regulations here. The Empire didn't leave Manaan without a few surprises for us and we have to be sure they won't try anything else. Your cargo will go a long way to getting production back up and running!"

Ben plastered a smile on his face as the Alliance man gestured to one of the soldiers posted to the side of the landing pad. The soldier stepped forward and opened the small box in his hand, and Ben's smile became much more genuine in the shine of silver, gold, and platinum credits. It was all that had been promised and then some. The soldier closed the box and Ben took it with studied nonchalance.

"Well, it was a pleasure doin' business with ya," he said, shaking the Alliance man's hand. The soldier nodded and stepped back. "Speakin' of business, what're the odds of some folks wantin' off this little slice of paradise?"

The Alliance man stopped and thought for a moment.

"Well, no offense, as your ship's no junker, but most of the people here are used to a little more refinement in their transports," he started. "There's some demand for transports for the Selkies here, but that's mostly for on-planet destinations. Tourism's taken a hit; it's on the rise again, but still much slower than it should be. I can put a word out for interested parties for you on the job board at the Port Authority. Just need your name, and your ship's name and class."

"Ben Merasska, ship's a Ghtroc-720. Named her Alderaan."

The Alliance man stopped and looked at him a little more closely before nodding again and writing down the information.

"Got it. Hopefully you'll get some paying fares before long. And, I know it's been over a decade, but my wife's from Alderaan. I know she gets a little jolt of happiness knowing there's others still making their way out there."

Ben smiled, though it felt a little more like a grimace.

"As you said," he sighed. "It's been over ten years."

The Alliance man smiled and nodded once more.

"You're clear. Enjoy Manaan City while you're here."

They left, and Ben stood alone on the landing pad, letting the weight of the credit box keep him from dwelling on the amount of time since he'd seen a sunrise from his family's front porch.

After ten years, it did hurt less. Didn't make the ache any easier to bear, though.

He shook his head, and turned back to the ship.

"Hey, Cerie, Shuvin! We got paid, so grab your shares and go have some fun!"

The answering shouts from inside did in fact lessen that ache the tiniest bit, though he wasn't consciously aware of it.