Hey everyone-- I long ago wrote a little fic about how I saw Calo Vance (who you might remember from such fics as Cold Morning and Run to the Rim) ending up ca. the Young Jedi Knights era. After a bit of editing and modification to take into account the entirety of the now indefinitely-hiatused game in question, I present to you the result:
Chapter I: It's Not the Years... It's the Mileage
The hum of the Hyrotii’s engines was ever-present in the background, causing Calo Vance to close his eyes contentedly; the Corellian kingpin found the sound of lovingly tuned starship drives familiar and soothing, and he now lamented the dearth of recent exposure to it. The life of a smuggler lord did not allow him the same sort of freedom he had had years earlier as a tramper captain, and he dearly missed a great deal of that life.
He didn’t miss the poverty, however. Calo grinned as he nuzzled into the seat, the silken fabric of his cobalt and silver-trimmed black robes grew warm against his skin and massaged his perpetually aching back. The medical droids had told him to lose thirty pounds years ago, and had started to pester him about his drinking long before that, but Calo had continued to put off its advice and bore the pain instead. Luxuries he had… all but time.
“Okay back there, Calo?”
The voice on the intercom was a pleasantly familiar one, and Calo tapped the comm. button twice in the affirmative, not feeling up to verbal exchange.
The pilot chuckled, “Good to hear. We’re coming up on Booster’s pad in about ten, so don’t get too comfortable. He’s sent out the honor guard; they’re visible out your port window right now,” he said easily, gently tilting the graceful little ship’s axis a bit to allow Calo a better view.
Already? Calo thought disappointedly. It had seemed that the trip had lasted only a few minutes, but it had indeed been at least five hours. Had he slept that long without noticing? Checking his chrono, Calo determined that he had indeed dozed off for almost the whole trip. He sighed: I am getting old…
There were indeed a quartet of fighter craft maneuvering on the Hyrotii freighter’s portside, beginning to form up as pairs on either side of the sleek small craft. Calo raised an eyebrow at their construction: the fighters had Incom built hulls with TIE Interceptor solar wings instead of S-Foils. Probably built at one of the small yards at Corellia… Calo thought, appraising the craft. They were keeping pace with their charge, though the smuggler suspected that the Hyrotii could leave them in the dust in the hands of a reasonably skilled pilot, or blown them out of the sky with the concealed missile array and sleek dorsal quadlaser. Still, they looked to handle well enough, and even waggled their wings as the five vessels neared the massive landing bay of the Errant Venture.
***
The transport touched down gently in a flawless landing on the Venture’s cavernous bay. While the pilot was good, Calo knew, he had to hand it to the designers for the perfection of the whole affair. That was high praise indeed from Calo, whose prejudice against non-Corellian vessels was quite legendary. While the crew of the vessel (pilot and LE droid) dealt with Booster’s ‘customs’ and entry personnel, Calo gathered his things from the rear storage bay and walked down the ramp with an aging butler droid in tow. Battered duffle slung over his shoulder and a collection of parcels clutched in his left arm, Calo sauntered onto the battered deck plates over to where Booster Terrik’s Twi’lek majordomo, Nawara Ven, stood chatting with the LE droid.
“Nawara! How have you been; and more importantly, how are Rhysati and those children?” Calo asked with a crooked grin. The Twi’lek smiled and the droid deferentially and tactfully made itself scarce.
“Doing splendidly to a one, Captain Vance, splendidly,” the ex-Rogue replied with a toothy smile that lifted a great deal of weariness from his features. “Booster has alerted the staff that the Vance apartments will be occupied; the usual people will be waiting, and the casino security people have been given your description and orders to keep watch,” Nawara said wryly.
"How are those delinquent sons of yours, by the way?" the Twi'lek added with a wink.
"Master Skywalker claims they are behaving themselves," Calo answered, "though frankly I have my doubts," he deadpanned.
Nawara smiled knowingly, then checked his wrist chrono and winced: “But I must be off: Mirax and her husband will be arriving with the children shortly, and I’d rather like to see Corran before Booster deflates his mood. You know your way, of course, Calo,” he added wryly.
“Of course… here is something for the children that I picked up on Coruscant,” Calo handed the departing Twi’lek one of the parcels, which was wrapped in cheerful green paper and yellow ribbon that purposely paralleled Nawara’s work clothes and those of all the other Errant Venture staff. The match was not lost on him, and Ven raised an eyebrow as he accepted the package.
“Hardly subtle for a bribe, Calo,” Nawara replied slyly.
“I understand their mother has turned them on to holographic puzzles; that parcel contains a randomizing unit that can generate several trillion different examples of varying difficulty. Enjoy,” the Corellian explained, causing Nawara to chuckle.
“Stop contributing to the delinquency of my children, Vance… first puzzles, then who knows what; perhaps camping equipment or family-friendly computer simulators?”
“Force-forbid.” Calo answered with a wink before patting Ven on the shoulder as the lieutenant left to deal with more important things.
***
“Well,” the Corellian smuggler said, turning to his pilot, “what do I owe you, Kid?” he asked.
The blond-haired man chuckled, his eyes sharing in on the laugh. Though in his mid-thirties, his features still held a boyish look, and he had never totally outgrown the scrawny awkwardness of his teenage years.
“How about a hug and we call it even, Boss?” he said, embracing the shorter, older man before he could respond. Calo returned it fervently.
“When are you going to stop calling me ‘Kid’, anyway?”
“Not till I’m dead. Drop by one of the offices more often, or call us on the Former Glory. Dad hasn’t seen you in ages and Zac’s been talking about tracking you down for a little reunion.” Calo replied, breaking the embrace and patting the taller man on the shoulders.
“I may just do that. If only to kick you two in the ass long enough to get the Rider back in action. Give my love to the boys and Tela, and tell that wife of yours to look me up if you ever keel over,” came the grinning reply as the two parted ways.
“And Kid,” Calo shouted after him as he and the droid reached the ramp, “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks Calo… me too.”
***
“Captain Vance… you picked a remarkably bad time to show up.” Booster Terrik gruffly said as Calo entered the bridge of the Venture, flanked by a pair of menacing-looking guards.
“Have I?” Calo responded innocently, though his knowing grin ruined any illusions of sincerity.
“Your package won’t be here for another two days… as you well know. Is there a reason you dropped by early?” Booster countered with a cock of his remaining eyebrow.
“I found an early ride.” Calo shrugged.
“I’ll bet. Why didn’t you just take one of the Skiprays—it isn’t as though you want for ships, Calo, unless my information really has been slipping these days?”
“Not that I don’t trust you, Booster, but I’d rather not depart on my new cruiser and leave one of my Skiprays in your bay.”
“Good man,” Booster smiled carnivorously, “so, how is the kid? I heard Karrde tried to recruit him a few months ago…”
“He declined; his gig with the NRI is too good, I’ll bet. Pay isn’t all that fantastic from what I can figure, but the work is… interesting, if his stories are to be believed.” Calo shrugged.
“I’ll bet,” Booster deadpanned, and swiveled his chair back out to the viewer. The main screen had been directed at the piscine shape of the Pulsar Skate as the small yacht maneuvered out of hyperspace exit. Sensors showed four beings aboard, and were predictably fuzzy about any cargo the ship may have carried. Calo smiled while the Skate came into range of the bay’s landing assist tractor, which the pilot waved off to no surprise. The screen reverted to open space when the Skate began her final approach.
“I am going downstairs to meet my daughter… you are welcome to come; I’m sure my grandson will be pleased to receive your presents personally.”
End
Questions? Comments? Feelings of regret? Let me know!
(Also, I'll be updating the Rebellion-era Vance chronicles some time in the near future)
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