Death of Yona

1999 short story by Jonathan Hicks

Seventeen years before Episode IV – A New Hope

Emag Retsam just stared at the bloated, slime covered Hutt in front of him. His hands clenched into fists, his eyes were narrowed and sharp with a strange purplish colour that reflected the light almost demonically. His hair, a thick dark brown that was cut short above the jawbone and swept back over his head, glistened with sweat and other moisture, which drifted around the audience chamber.

If audience chamber was the correct description. The converted basement below the trade unit the Hutt used as an outlet for his betting syndicate was large in space but cramped with content; the Hutt’s oversized dais, the amount of sycophants loitering. Emag felt both claustrophobic and nauseous.

The crowd watched him expectantly. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. He would not show his anger although he was sure the Hutt had already detected it.

“The price has changed since my original offer,” he said slowly. “This new price is twice what we originally agreed upon. No slave is worth that much.”

Komag the Hutt laughed loudly amused by Emag’s suppressed fury. He voiced his own opinion, a rolling bass language of heavy-syllable words that seemed to suit his enormous form. The interpreter ‘droid, a floating polyhedron of wires and antennae, turned it’s photoreceptors from the Hutt to Emag.

“The grand Komag the Hutt says that his price stands. If you want the Twi'lek girl that much, the price must be met.”

Emag heard the snickers of the amassed but he ignored them. The Hutt wanted to annoy him wanted to make things difficult. Emag knew the way these creatures operated. Suffering and profit seemed to mix. It amused them to make credits at other being’s expense.

With a shake of his head, Emag turned to leave. As he did so, the floating ‘droid swung out in front of him and blocked his exit.

“The exalted Komag the Hutt says that if your personal account cannot cover this price, then surely you can acquire funds from Raca City’s profits. You are the new governor, after all.”

At this the crowd roared their laughter, Komag the Hutt’s laugh rising above the rest. Aliens of different shapes and sizes joined in, even if they found the joke humourless. It would not do to go against general consensus in the court of a Hutt.

The ‘droid drifted out of Emag’s way as he stalked from the chamber. The stairs ahead were blocked by two huge Barabels, their tough hides and heavy-browed eyes quivering with mirth. They uncrossed their force pikes at the last moment as Emag approached, allowing him to climb the stairs to the exit.

Halfway up the stairs he spied a blue-skinned figure in a side door. He slowed his steps as he caught sight of the Twi'lek girl, dressed in a dancer’s costume for her next performance for Komag. Her headtails were painted with glowing symbols that would leave a lasting impression on certain specie’s retinas as she danced. She watched him intently, and he just gave her a quick shake of the head. The Barabel guards were following him up to make sure he didn’t hang around and Emag knew better than to argue with a Hutt’s employees.

“I’m sorry, Yona,” he whispered to the Twi'lek girl and continued his ascent.

She watched him go up, her hand clutching the hem of the dress so tightly the fabric threatened to tear.

“I can’t believe you tried that!” the Duros shouted. His dark blue skin was taught over his bones, his huge eyes shining with fury. “Your the governor, for...”

Emag held his hand up to cut his alien friend off. Their voices had risen in heated debate over the last few sentences and Emag’s office wasn’t soundproofed.

“Driss, I had to try. She’s wasting away in Komag’s ‘care’ and I have to get her out.”

Driss Cotta wasn’t convinced.

“But if word got out that the governor of Raca City was trading in slaves...”

Again Emag cut him off, glancing to the door to make sure it was sealed from eavesdroppers. He turned to face the huge window of his city, three peaks of mountains filled with speederways and livelihoods, interconnected by walkways and traveltubes. The nighttime celebrations from the day’s racing had started to die down, and revellers were dispersing from the long racetrack that surrounded the base of the mountains.

He sighed heavily.

“I had to try. A monetary solution was the only way I could try.”

Driss walked over to his friend and laid a long-fingered hand on his shoulder. Emag had his eyes closed, now, appearing defeated.

“Are you sure she’s worth the risk?” Driss asked cautiously.

Emag looked up at him, his eyes glazed.

“I love her.” he said.

Driss nodded.

“Komag won’t listen to you, now. There’s no way to get her. Look I know it’s tough, but...”

“Don’t say it!” Emag pulled from his friend’s grip. “I will not give up.”

There was a tense silence as Driss tried to think of something comforting to say but failed.

“Then how else can you get her?”

Emag looked down at the racetrack below him.

“Komag’s a gambler at heart, right?”

“Right.”

With a slow turn of his head Emag regarded his friend. Driss was shocked at the expression, a look of deviousness and smugness.

Emag spoke slowly and deliberately.

“Then there is one way.”

With a deft flick of her wrist Yona made the streamer follow her every movement. The music emanating from the Holo-recording of a well-known band pumped loudly around the chamber as the audience watched, mesmerised. The Holo-band, wavering and flickering from the result of an age-old recording, started to speed the tempo as they approached the climax of the song. Yona leapt high, streamer bouncing like a wave behind her, and as she landed in a crouch the music suddenly stopped.

Appendages clapped, beings whistled and Komag the Hutt groaned with delight. Yona had excelled herself this time. Sweat glistened on her half-dressed body, the blueness of her skin shining with effort. She stood, bowed, and walked from the dancefloor.

Komag was already ignoring her, conversing with another alien about matters of business. She was thrown a few compliments and offers from the crowd, but she ignored them and walked past the Barabel guards and up to her room.

Inside she collapsed on a couch. The dance had taken a lot out of her. Komag had demanded she repeat the same sequence three times, and the performance was one of the most complicated she had ever done. Limbs protested and her back threatened to break, but she had done it.

The door chime rang once. Before she had chance to send the visitor away the portal opened.

A small furry alien, almost rodent-like, stepped in.

“Heh, heh. You have a visitor. Heh.” It twitched and seemed to gasp its words out, finding basic a difficult language to speak.

Emag Retsam walked in behind the alien, glancing down the stairs to where the guards were and then pressing a credit chip into his hand.

“Thanks, Loke. Give me five minutes.”

The little alien’s eyes lit up at the amount appearing on the chip’s readout and with a chirp he bounded out of the door.

“I’ll keep watch. Heh.”

Yona, ignoring her aching muscles and sweat-stained clothes, leapt from the couch and into Emag’s arms as the door closed. He grabbed her gently, knowing that she would be exhausted after her performance. He was surprised at how fiercely she held him.

They stood like that for a long minute, enjoying each other’s embrace, then she pulled herself away and held Emag by the elbows.

“You promised you wouldn’t try to buy me, Emag, you promised!”

“I’m sorry, I had to try. How else could I get you out of Komag’s clutches? He’s not going to listen to reason.”

“But I felt like so much property. It’s all I’ve ever known, and when I think I have a stab at happiness the man I love tries to buy me.” She let go and slumped on the couch.

Emag rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes, calming the swelling emotions within him. True, he had promised, but faced with the possibility he could never be with her, what else could he do? Once bought she could have been free. Free to marry him, free to travel, free to walk beyond the Hutt’s audience chamber.

He slowly sat next to her as she pulled her legs in tight, her head-tails quivering with anger and sorrow. Tentatively he placed an arm about her shoulders. She didn’t resist and leaned against him, so he encircled her with his other arm and held her close.

“I was at my wit’s end,” he explained. “I didn’t know what else to do. You know I don’t look at you that way. How could I?”

Yona, biting back a response, placed a hand on his knee and said, “I know. I know, okay?” She looked up at him. “I just wished you’d told me. I don’t want to hate you, but if you had bought me I would have always felt I owed you something.”

“No.” Emag was firm in his resolve. “No, that wouldn’t be the case. If you wanted to go and travel the galaxy I would have paid for you to travel in style, given you a ship. You would have been free. That is what I want for you. That is why I love you.”

She smiled leaning up and kissing him on the cheek.

“If only.”

“Don’t give up hope. I have one last hand to play. Not even Komag could resist my next offer.”

“Emag...”

“No, there’s no money involved. Just a challenge. Look, I have an audience with him now. I’ll have to go.”

As he stood she grabbed his wrist.

“What are you going to do?”

He just smiled and kissed her hand.

“Don’t worry. By tomorrow it’ll be over, one way or the other. Just sit tight and wait for me, okay?”

“Always,” she replied, letting him go and watching him walk to the door and out. Her mind whirled.

What is he going to do?

“A Podrace?”

The interpreter ‘droid sounded as mystified as the Hutt had when answering Emag’s request. The crowd pricked up their ears and sound detectors. The challenge sounded interesting, at the very least.

Emag smiled, glad he had intrigued the Hutt. The expanse of flesh before him quivered expectantly, his voice deeper than usual and resonating inquisitively.

“The illustrious Komag the Hutt wishes to know what you have in mind,” the droid said evenly.

“Simple.” Emag said. “There are three Podraces a year here in Raca City, and there are several racers on planet now. If I reschedule, I can run the race tomorrow morning. I am the governor, after all. I can do that.”

Komag barked a question.

“Why would you do that?” the ‘droid asked.

With a deep breath, Emag played his hand.

“A bet. I wager that I can win that race.”

The Hutt roared with laughter, the crowd gathered around the chamber laughing nervously as they failed to see the joke. After his small, almost useless arms stopped waving with merriment, the slug-like Hutt pointed at Emag with both hands. His voice was wavering.

The ‘droid spun from the Hutt to face Emag.

“The great Komag the Hutt says that humans don’t Podrace. They can’t Podrace. What makes you think you’ll even complete a lap without crashing and dying?”

With a shrug, Emag looked directly at the Hutt.

“I have a Pod that may win. I have designed it so that I am able to handle the complex controls.”

“And the wager?” the ‘droid asked, before the Hutt had even finished the sentence.

“Yona, the Twi'lek.”

The laughter in the room at the apparent unlikeliness that Emag would even survive the race stopped abruptly. All eyes flicked between Emag and the Hutt.

“If I win, she goes free and you get my Pod. If I lose, she stays with you and you get my Pod, or what’s left of it. No matter the outcome, you stand to gain a Pod. Twenty three thousand credits worth of Pod.” Emag waited for a response.

The Hutt stared back, uttering a low vibrating, “Ooooh.” Komag, owner of one of the biggest gambling syndicates in this part of space and a heavy gambler himself, weighed the options.

Then, with a loud roar that startled the crowd and Emag alike, he came out with several words that were defined by high syllables.

“The exalted Komag the Hutt agrees to your challenge,” the ‘‘droid said. The audience clapped and cheered, anticipating the spectacle.

Emag bowed. Komag could change prices, but if he changed or backed out on a wager he would lose face. He knew it would work that he could manipulate him with a challenge such as this.

“Tomorrow, then.” Emag said, and turned to exit.

In the back of his mind, a small sane voice was roaring.

What the freck am I doing?

When the inhabitants of Raca City learned that their governor had not only brought forward the Podrace date but was also running in the race himself, the mood was one of anger.

Driss Cotta was attaching a power link to the Pod when he heard, within the vast multitudes behind him, a chant start and then rise in volume.

“Caat-chu! Caat-chu! Caat-chu!”

He shook his head and screwed the link tight. He looked over at Emag and grimaced.

“What does that mean?” Emag asked.

“Caatchu. It’s Huttese slang. ‘One who sacrifices others for his own benefit’. I think they’re angry because you never gave them chance to place their own bets and make some credits. I get the feeling that they think the race is fixed, what with a human running in it.”

Emag had expected this. The three Podraces he allowed every year were the crowd-pullers. He wasn’t fond of the sport, knowing that the fatality rate from the high speeds and tight manoeuvres was high, but he allowed it to happen to appease the crowds. Millions of credits in bets hung on the Podraces, built up over several preceding weeks. Moving the race forward had ruined most being’s chances of viewing the field and making a bet.

He looked at his Pod, a racing machine he had built to try and understand the sport better. He was a racer himself, preferring the easily controlled repulsorlift bike. He knew that humans couldn’t Podrace, their reflexes and lack of dextrous limbs made controlling the vehicles next to impossible. He hoped his modifications to the controls would work.

The Pod was of the standard design. A floating seat surrounded by controls and a basic shell, attached to huge jet-like engines by thick tethers. The engines were kept in place by energy binders, streams of matter that kept each of the engines at a certain distance from each other. It gave the vehicles the appearance of technological chariots.

The three engines of his Pod were in a triangular formation, the top of the triangle the smallest engine. He hoped that this smaller engine would take the stabilisation work out of the equation. He could concentrate on piloting the Pod whilst the third engine kept it stabilised.

At least, that was the theory.

Angry spectators watched as the four Pods that were going to race were towed to the start line by small ‘droids, their engines humming softly. As Emag began his walk to the line, Driss grabbed his arm.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked heatedly. “I don’t want to have attend your death gathering.”

Emag patted his friend’s hand.

“I’m sure. I have to do this, Driss. For Yona.”

It appeared as if Driss had a few things to say about Emag’s apparent risks over love, but he kept silent. He only nodded sadly and walked away.

Emag followed the Pod to the start line, looking at each of the other Podracers. Three Pods sat at the line, one with four engines and a single seat for control, owned by a multi-limbed species Emag had never seen before.

The second was a large single engine with a heavily shielded control seat, attached by worn tethers that had seen better races. The pilot was a three-eyed Gran, his snout moving as he checked the vehicles systems.

The third was a simple Pod, with a standard control sled and thin tethers attached to two huge cylindrical engines. They hummed with suppressed power. The pilot was...

“Yona!” Emag cried, seeing the blue-skinned Twi'lek donning a helmet and trying to quickly clamber into the vehicle. She turned and stared at him with shock as his voice reached her, slowly removing the helmet and letting it drop to the rocky ground. With three bounds they had reached each other, Yona wanting to throw herself into Emag’s embrace but being stopped short as he grabbed her by her elbows.

“What the freck do you think you’re doing?” Emag shouted over the sound of the Gran revving his engines. The repulsorlift jets screamed and shook.

“Komag instructed I should run this race.” Yona explained as the noise died. She smiled from ear to ear. “Emag, he says that if I win I can go free!”

“And if you lose?”

“Then I am his forever.”

Emag gritted his teeth, screwed his eyes shut and lowered his head. Confused, Yona placed her hand on his crown.

“What is it?”

He looked up, the anger in his eyes making her nervous.

“Yona, I have already wagered. If I win you go free.”

“But if you win I won’t be free.”

“And if you lose you won’t be free.”

The realisation at the situation they were in made them stand stock-still and stare at each other, studying each other’s faces as if they awaited a miracle. Emag was panting, Yona was trying not to cry out. They grabbed each other in an embrace so fierce their breaths left their bodies.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should have told you what I was going to do.” Emag groaned.

“I have no choice. I either race or Komag will...” She stopped short and allowed a short sob. Emag allowed his tears to flow and he swallowed his anger. “And if I come last...”

“We won’t let him beat us,” Emag said. “We’ll run the race and make sure neither of us win and I’ll come last. That way at least you’ll live.”

“But I’ll still be a slave.”

“But you’ll be alive. We’ll sort something out. I’ll quit the governorship and we’ll run. Somewhere not even Komag can find us. To the Setnin Sector. I know people there...”

Yona shook her head in despair.

“He’ll just hunt us down. We’ll be running for the rest of our lives.”

“But we’ll be together.”

She stared at him, her expression that of someone who had come to accept their lot in life.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Then don’t. I’ll just do it. I love you, Yona. Don’t ever doubt that.”

He kissed her fiercely, her arms locked solidly around him.

“Podracers to their positions!”

When he pulled away she held on as if she would never let go, and then slowly let him slip from her grasp. They each ran to their own Pods.

The vehicles lined up along the start line, the thin energy beam denoting the line quivering from the heat emanating from the powerful engines. Emag settled into his seat, wiping his blurred eyes.

You’ll die for this, Komag.

Each Pod started up, the engines pulling forward on their power couplings like some wild beast straining to be free.

You’ll not separate us, you bastard.

There was flash of light.

The race had begun.

Emag, his racing goggles tight on his head, had never experienced acceleration so fast.

He was used to quick starts. He had pulled away with incremental thrust on his racing bike, but the sheer velocity of the Pod was frightening. His head snapped back, his brain threatened to explode from his ears by the force of the acceleration, and before he knew what was happening he was approaching the first corner.

The three engines were roaring with thrust, leaving high white trails of dust behind him. He didn’t dare turn his head to see where the other competitors were; glancing from the track for even a second might send him ploughing into a wall.

The controls were as tricky as he had expected. Each control stick was designed to steer and elevate the primary manoeuvring engines, the foot pedals designed to increase or decrease thrust in either engine. The sticks were also controlling the air brakes and the power flow between each engine.

No wonder humans can’t race, Emag thought, I need an extra set of limbs or heightened senses to even get out of this alive!

His design, the third stabilising engine, was doing little to improve his control. He had hoped it would aid him but all it appeared to be doing was increasing his speed; good in one way, bad in thousands of other ways.

A tight right turn, a tight left turn, a long sweeping right. It took all of Emag’s concentration to keep the Pod on line, increasing power in one engine to take the corners at speed, lowering power to even the thrust for straights, elevating one side to slide sideways around corners, steadying the power flow so that the thrust capacity wouldn’t redline. So many things to control!

He was shocked to discover he was in the lead. This didn’t last long as he started to pay more attention to his control, sacrificing position for safety. Although he had no intention of winning the race, he had not intended to drop back so soon. The multi-limbed being and the Gran screamed past either side, straight into the next right hand bend after the long curve.

Emag glanced back. Yona was coming up fast, her engines spewing thrust to catch up. Her head-tails were entwined in controls and he smiled.

Clever girl.

She decelerated as they entered the right hand turn. Emag, intent on losing but not wanting to give the impression that, being a human, he couldn’t control the Pod, poured on more power.

A left turn. A right turn. Another left. Although he was only getting two-thirds capability from the vehicle he was still doing tremendous speeds.

The race had become more of a cruise for him. He thrilled with the sensation. He was controlling the Pod like a natural, his ability to find compatibility quickly with a strange machine settling in. The next few bends were simple. The tight series of left-right turns he handled easily. His mind focused on the straight to the finish. He started applying more power. His chest puffed with pride.

Then Yona’s voice seemed to drift into his mind.

And if I come last...

With horror, Emag saw the finish line coming towards him and Yona had not yet passed him. In a panic he slammed his thumbs on the brakes and hooked his feet under the acceleration pedals, yanking back for more power loss.

At that moment Emag realised why humans never Podraced.

The engines whined in protest. Unlike a speeder, Pod engines didn’t like being deprived of thrust whilst their intakes were fully open and the rate of thrust capacity leaped threefold. His left engine erupted.

Flame and smoke spewed from the engine, and as Emag watched the power coupling on the engine binders failed. The engine, now free to travel in any direction it wished, started to veer right whilst the Pod slued left.

Yona, afraid that Emag would beat her, had applied more power. The smoke and debris from Emag’s wrecked engine blinded her for a second.

She heaved the Pod over as she saw Emag’s Pod starting to swerve left. She narrowly missed.

With a scream she saw the other free engine, now torn from it’s tether, loom from the smoke. Her forward engine slammed into it heavily, tearing apart the casing and ripping the internal workings to shreds. Her Pod started to slide left, also.

Emag stared directly into her terror-filled eyes as her Pod, out of control and spewing fire, slammed directly into his. They were both still travelling at a tremendous speed, and as they connected the engines roared free of their bindings and roared away, over and into the spectators. Explosions tore through the crowds as the engines erupted in a final display of their power.

Emag and Yona’s Pods, fitted with their own repulsor units, spun across the track flipping over and cartwheeling. The pilots, strapped firmly into their cockpits, were relatively safe within the safety seats of the Pods.

Until Yona’s seat failed and she was thrown from the wreck.

Riot officers were throwing stun grenades into the crowds of rioting spectators. Seats were torn from moorings and flung onto the track, beings from all over the galaxy were united in their anger; people had died for this race that should never had happened. They had lost friends, relatives and money, all so that the governor could get his wish and run in a Podrace with no real opposition.

This was the mood sweeping throughout the crowd at the moment. Boiling anger had turned into mass rage.

Emag had crawled from his seat and across the track to Yona’s wrecked Pod. Seats and other items rained around him, the only thing stopping the crowds from invading the track was the long drop from the stalls and the riot control officers at the track entrance.

Emag could feel white-hot pain in the left side of his face. His jaw wouldn’t move and pulpy red flesh hung from his cheek and forehead. His one arm was twisted and useless and an ankle was shattered beyond use, but still he managed to find the strength to pull himself with his good arm to the body of the Twi'lek.

A long trail of blood marked his route, and as he reached the still form officials were running across the track in his direction.

He took hold of her shoulder and turned her over.

Her body, twisted and broken, was twitching slightly, blood covering almost all of her. She stared at Emag with flickering eyes. He could do nothing but heave a sob that sent more blood to the ground. He couldn’t speak, he could hardly breath. She stared at him and, to his amazement, she smiled with blood-stained lips.

“Free.” she whispered, and went limp.

He pulled at her, trying to gain some response but received none. His groans became more frantic as he shook her. His whine was loud and pitched as he vented his anguish on her still form.

Driss stood by the med-wagon, his comlink firmly grasped in his shaking hand.

“Why can’t you get them off the track?” he bellowed down the communicator.

“It’s the governor, sir,” came the tinny reply. “He won’t let her go.”

Emag stood in his office, staring out over his city. The celebrations from the day’s racing was dying down and he watched as revellers started to leave the track.

It had been nearly two months since the Podrace. Emag, in a fit of rage from his medunit bed had banned Podracing from Raca City. People had died in the crash and the riot and he vowed that such things wouldn’t happen again. Seeking revenge on Komag, he had cut off the Hutt’s most profitable supply.

But the Hutt still worked Raca City. He still made his deals with off-worlders and still kept slaves. Emag, in his position of governor, had been unable to strike Komag directly. If it ever became known that he had been involved both slave negotiations and race wagers, he would lose his seat. Komag knew of this danger and reminded Emag of it every chance he got, using the knowledge to retain his gambling franchise in the city.

He watched as lights around the track started to go out.

“Thinking about the past?”

He turned to look at Driss who had entered the office quietly. He noticed how Driss’ gaze went from his face to his eyes and he tried to ignore it.

The left side of Emag’s jaw was metal, now. The crash had all but torn his face away, leaving deep scarring and requiring major structural surgery. Although the prosthetic could easily have been covered by synth-flesh, he had refused. He needed a reminder of the day his heart had broken and his pride at thinking he could be a Podracer had cost a girl and two hundred beings their lives.

“I was thinking about Yona,” Emag said.

Driss nodded with understanding and stood next to him, silent.

“It’s strange,” Emag said, “At first I wanted to die. I couldn’t live without her, and whilst I lay in that medunit, unable to move or talk, I knew that I should die because I had killed her. The guilt just tore me apart. I was guilty of pride. I loved that Pod so much. I have never, ever piloted anything like it. I’m just a racer at heart, and the joy of flying that thing was unimaginable. And, in all that joy, I forgot about her. I forgot that she couldn’t come last. I thought that maybe I didn’t love her as much as I thought.

“But I did love her. If I could go back I would have done things different. I wouldn’t have tried to be so smart in tricking Komag, wouldn’t have challenged him like that. Komag had stacked the deck against me so that no matter what the outcome of the race I wouldn’t have got her. Komag would never have released her. The desire to go back and change all that makes me sad.”

Driss remained silent. He knew that Emag just wanted to talk and allowed him to do so, ignoring the words as best he could.

“But I’m not sad anymore.”

Driss looked at him in confusion.

“Why?”

Emag looked back, the metal jaw making his small smile imperfect.

“Because in the end Komag lost.

“She’s free.”

Death of Yona

1999 short story by Jonathan Hicks

Seventeen years before Episode IV – A New Hope

Histories – Initially a story title back in 1986 and due to be made into a NHP Audio story, it took thirteen years for this title to finally be made into a story. Using the background of the Podraces, as seen in Episode I - The Phantom Menace, Jonathan Hicks crafted a tragic tale set in the Ki-Ki Sector, future protagonists of the Setnin Sector, telling of the doomed romance between Yona, a Twi'lek slave girl and Emag Retsam - uncle of Skeet Jonas and governor of Raca City.

Cast of Characters

Yona

Emag Retsam

Driss Cotta

Komag the Hutt

Loke