Making Trouble (Part 1)
In a cluster of barren shacks in Mos Eisley's northwest district, Yuri Orlov sat up from a bed made of rags. Bare-chested except for a tie hanging around his neck, he anxiously looked up at the twin suns in the sky and burst out cursing. "This damned place is so... fucking... hot!!"
Vitaly Orlov had long since gotten up and was sitting by the bed, drinking water. He too was drenched in sweat, his wet hair hanging in strands against his forehead. Yet he seemed perfectly at ease as he said flatly, "That's enough, brother. I don't remember it now, but we must have spent plenty of time wandering through deserts before. Have some water."
He tossed over the bottle in his hand.
"But there weren't fucking two suns there!" Yuri snapped. He failed to catch the bottle and reached for it, only to grab a stinkbug instead. Instantly, his temper exploded.
"I've fucking had enough!! How much longer do we have to wait in this godforsaken place?!" Yuri jumped up and cursed nonstop.
"Hey, wait!" Vitaly narrowed his eyes toward the distance, where a cloud of dust had risen. "Someone's coming!"
Yuri immediately ran to the window and picked up a pair of binoculars. Sure enough, a group of Bosa were speeding toward them in several hover trucks.
"Oh, baby, you finally came..." Yuri tugged at the tie around his neck. "Looks like they pulled it off. They should be able to repay the debt now, right? Wait..."
He spotted an even larger cloud of dust behind them. Adjusting the binoculars' focus, he was horrified to see more than a dozen speeder bikes in hot pursuit!
"Holy shit! Fuck!! They got into trouble! They got into trouble! Vitaly, get ready to run! You three, get