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Dark Cargo 1999 short story by Jonathan Hicks Seven years before Episode IV - A New Hope As
the hyperspace tunnel began to collapse around the starship, Pellone suddenly
had a discomforting thought. What
if there was no one here to meet him? The
swirling tunnel began to dissipate, causing thin charges of static to arc
across the ships hull. The blunt nosed
vessel banked slightly as the waves of energy washed over it, causing swirls
of realspace that buffeted it to one side. Pellone adjusted course to compensate and
swore at the manoeuvring thrusters, which had obviously failed to keep the
ship in a straight line. As the ship
began to travel a smoother course Pellone quickly looked at his near range
sensors. Nothing. The
tunnel vanished completely and the ships hyperspace instigators went
completely off-line. Still
nothing on the sensors. Pellone
switched his gaze from the scanner viewscreen to the window, a huge ridged
bubble stretched out in front of him, exposing a quarter of the cockpit to
the view of space. A million white
dots and a sweeping nebula filled his vision.
He sighed heavily. With
an expression of resignation he slumped back into his acceleration couch,
causing the old seat to squeak loudly.
The vessel was old, hailing as it did from the now closed Iralini
Starship shipyards. The Class Three Haruuga trading vessels had been in
service now for over a century and this particular one was beginning to show
its age. Exposed wiring and the debris
of a thousand food wrappers covered the cramped interior. A lingering layer of smoke increased as
Pellone blew a long strand of burnt particles from a thick brown NixStik jammed between his yellowing teeth. He rolled it over to the other side of his
mouth and narrowed his eyes at the view of space. I've been stitched up he thought. He
quickly checked the engines had disengaged and that life support had not been
compromised after the transition to realspace and
began flicking switches to call up the instructions he had been sent. After three days in hyperspace he was m ore
than a little agitated. He had arrived
at the pre-determined co-ordinates in the middle of an uncharted region of deepspace somewhere in the dangerous Quarshannel Sector
at the allotted time. So where was the
other ship? The
message he had received at Galli Station four days previously scrolled up on
the holographic screen and he scrutinised it carefully to make sure he had
not missed a vital piece of information. Mister Pellone the message read, I have been reliably informed that you used to transport cargo for
the He'ke Dynasty out of the Civilian Sector of Dorkaru space. This cargo, so my source tells me, was of a
delicate nature but you handled the movement of it discreetly and effectively
and made quite a name for yourself in the Dorkaru underworld fraternity. Considering this definite good reference I
have decided to ask you to do something for me. A smaller job, but nevertheless well paid. Be at co-ordinates
seven-eight-nine-slash-six-two-nine in exactly ninety-point-five standard
hours and I will meet you there with my cargo and payment up front. I need not tell you that secrecy is of the
highest priority. Thank you for your attention. Dressel It
was the name at the end of the document that excited Pellone the most. Dressel.
One of the most respected - and feared - corporation bosses in the
entire Mid-Rim. It was rumoured that
he dealt with the more undesirable members of the business community but none
of the stories and half-truths Pellone had heard could be substantiated. He spat the NixStik
stub onto the floor and licked his lips.
This could prove to be very
profitable. That
was if he showed his face. As
he considered his next move his proximity alarm suddenly started whining. He
spun in his seat and looked at a bank of screens to his upper right and as he
reached over to turn off the sensor a strange signal started to coalesce on
the viewer. An
Akilla Class Hunter-Killer warship began to emerge from its hyperspace tunnel.
The huge tear in the spatial matter around the immediate area sending out
shockwaves which buffeted Pellone's vessel. Its two huge weapon clusters on each of the
long wings locked onto his craft and began tracking. Pellone
reached for another NixStik, his eyes wide and his
loose jowls trembling with shock and even a little excitement. The Hunter-Killer
emerged fully into realspace, its one hundred and
fifty metre long bulk almost filling all of his screens. The buffeting slowed to a faint tremble and
then silence as the huge craft took position. This
proved to be more than a slight problem.
As far as Pellone knew these class of Hunter-Killers were military issue
only and the chance of Dressel possessing one was remote. It
appeared he had been set up. He
reached over to activate his defensive countermeasures and prime his
hyperspace actuator when his communicator whistled for attention. Nervously
he pressed the receive button and waited. "Welcome
to P'ro space Captain Pellone. My
apologies for being late. I am
Dressel. I trust you received my
message at Galli Station?" With
a huge sigh he hit the transmit button. "Yeah, this is Pellone. What the freck do you think you're playing at? Those hyperspace eddies could have torn my
ship apart!" There
was a hint of humour at the other end of the channel.
"You are three points off the location I gave you Captain. Considering the age of your vessel I can
understand your concern. Now, we do
not have much time so let's get down to
details." There
was a faint burst of white noise, as the channel became secure. Pellone nodded and activated his own
scrambler on his communicator. "You said you had a cargo and payment
up front." "I
shall begin transfer immediately Captain Pellone. The P'ro do not
like unregistered vessels in their part of space and they have a highly
advanced tracking operation. My
payment will be up front, just as we agreed." "What's the cargo?" "Why
Captain Pellone, I thought you were a haulier. I also believed you were a man of
disgression. I would rather the cargo
be left discreet." Pellone
snarled at the receiver and just grunted a response. After
ten minutes of manoeuvring and attitude adjustment Pellone brought his small
ship alongside the huge Hunter-Killer,
moving the cargo bay docking tube against the larger vessels opening in a
strange parody of mechanical mating.
There were huge ringing sounds like the clash of a gong and the two
ships connected. Pellone, obeying his
instructions, stayed away from the cargo area and opened the bay doors by
remote. There were a few moments of
banging and scraping, which echoed around the cockpit and then silence. Pellone
heard the cargo bay seal itself and the docking tube disengage. He snaked it back in, tilted the ship and
slowly moved away from the vessel. His
communicator whined again.
"Now Captain Pellone, return to Galli Station and dock at bay
seven. Once docked, open the cargo bay
and then wait. Someone will come along
and remove the cargo and then you are released from our agreement." "Now wait a second. What about payment up front?" There
was a moment of silence. "Of
course. I shall give you something you
treasure above all else." Pellone
began to perspire. His mouth became
dry and his hands clammy. He knew that
Dressel had immense power and influence.
What could it be?
"I will give you your life." "What?" Pellone would have stood and spat at his
cockpit window if his straps weren't holding him in place. He bit the NixStik
cigar he was smoking in half and ignored the sizzling sound as the heated end
connected with something on the littered floor. "You
are not the professional I thought you were.
I understand you did do those jobs in Dorkaru space - with a fifty-two
percent failure rate. Now go, before I
target your life support and let you suffocate out here." Pellone
reached for his tactical computer and then stopped as the sensor banks lit
up. The Hunter-Killer had locked all of its forward firing weapons upon
his vessel and according to his instruments, were pumping power into them,
and preparing to open fire. He
knew when he was beaten, even before he got into fights. The Hunter-Killer
sat there almost impassively, almost daring
him to engage. He reached for his control stick and moved the ship back. The
Hunter-Killer didn't move. It continued to target him as he calculated
his wormhole jump. It continued to
target as he engaged the hyperdrive.
It even continued as he entered the spatial tear and down the wormhole
proper. He
sat, staring out at the blackness of the wormhole, staring at the blank
screens around him. Depressed, upset,
betrayed. It was not as if he'd failed
on purpose. He tried, he really
did. And there was the all-powerful
Dressel, both mocking and abusing his abilities at the same time. His
thoughts moved from the insult to the cargo.
If Dressel was so all-powerful then surely his cargo was of great
value. There was no Hunter-Killer to threaten him
now. No danger of being vaporised by
heavy assault turbo lasers. He
narrowed his eyes and smiled. What the hell. If
Dressel was going to destroy his already smeared reputation then why not take
the risk? He
unbuckled and climbed from the seat, disconnecting his flight suit from monitors,
cooling systems and waste management tubes.
He kicked his way through litter on the floor and activated the cargo
bay controls. With
a creak and a hiss the doors slid upwards, revealing an almost empty bay with
one large container secure in the centre.
He stepped over, looking around to see if anything else had been
stored but was disappointed to see that this was the only item there. He walked to it unsteadily, having been
strapped into his couch for the better part of the day. Muscles ached and bones creaked. He reached what appeared to be the opening
and reached for the locking mechanism. Before
he even had chance to review the controls the lock deactivated and the
opening started to swing out. He
stepped back as a tall man exited, a breathing regulator strapped over his
nose and mouth. Inside the container
was a seat similar to the one that Pellone had just vacated in the cockpit,
allowing the occupant to remain comfortable during prolonged spaceflights. "What the..?" Pellone fell on his backside in shock as
the man with dark grey eyes, a shock of white hair and a grim smile produced
a Blaster pistol, pointing it at Pellone's head. "Well, you couldn’t be trusted after
all. All I wanted was to make it to
the Galli Station for a secret meeting.
All you had to do was
transport me there. If you had carried
out my instructions to the letter then I would have hired you on a long-term
contract. But no, you couldn't do
that." "Wh…why
me? Why hide in my ship?" "I'm an important man Captain
Pellone. I can't simply walk onto a
station unprotected. I have many
enemies. This way, I sneak on quietly
and in the process judge you for your trustiness. At least I'll still get on quietly." Pellone
swallowed and reached for another NixStik. "Who are you?" The
man smiled. "I'm Dressel." He said and pulled the trigger. Dark Cargo 1999 short story by Jonathan Hicks Seven years before Episode IV - A New Hope Histories - A story written by Jonathan Hicks which shows perfectly
the devious nature and hard ruthlessness of the ganglord Dressel, the main competitor to
Glann Cipple in the Setnin Sector and
the Mid-Rim. This is the first time that we see
Dressel have any dealings in the Quarshannel
Sector - years later he would become the first Setnin ganglord to have
permanent dealings with the denizens of that sector. Cast of
Characters Dressel Captain
Pellone |