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Another
Days Work 1999 short
story by Jonathan Hicks Five years after Episode IV - A New Hope Bolts of energy slammed into the
storage container as Goah dove behind it. Panels and chunks of molten metal
flew in all directions and sparks sprayed all over his already singed long
black coat. Thick smoke and ozone filled the air. He came out of his roll and up
into a squatting position, resting on his haunches and checking the power
level on his blaster. His long hair, tied up into a topknot, spilled down over
his face causing him to swat at it angrily. It was hard to believe he had
virtually had it all shaved off only two weeks previously. Now it was long,
sweaty and clinging to his forehead. Another volley of shots screamed
across the hangar and into the container. It was large enough and thick
enough to give him protection for a few minutes, so he put his back against
it and breathed deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth. Damn this easy target, he thought
angrily to himself. He had come to Leogard to locate and spy on a new crime
figure, an alien who called himself Noomtil. He wasn't sure what race he was
or where he had come from. At the end of the day, he didn't really care. Information brokers back at Glann
Cipple's Fortress on Amagad had told him that Noomtil had minimal protection
and a small ship, stationed at the moment on Leogard until he felt his safety
threatened and he decided to move on. Not more than three or four goons and a
freighter, Goah had been told. Well, it was obvious that Noomtil
had increased his powerbase in the seven short hours since his briefing; what
he had found waiting for him on Leogard was a Corellian Corvette, heavily
modified, surrounded by bodyguards, hires and sycophants. Somewhere in the
centre of the ship was Noomtil, obviously loath to show himself. As he had approached the vessel,
creeping from hiding place to hiding place, a hidden security sensor net had
picked him up and alerted the ship. Goah, not expecting much resistance and
only equipped with minimal tools, was suddenly thrown into a mix of blaring
sirens, thumping weapons and shouting goons. Noomtil had decided to utilise an
old hangar in an abandoned strip-mining facility on the equator of Leogard.
All around was desolation and bare soil, with rundown windswept buildings
rising like boils from the rough ground. The hangar
was a huge circular affair, with massive sliding blast doors above the
construction to keep out the biting winds and common meteor showers. Luck had
been on Goah's side as he had come under fire. Noomtil had restored partial
power to the hangar in case of a meteor strike, which were small but could
inflict severe damage with their velocity and mass. Goah, hearing the engines
of the corvette start up and diving into the hangar's operations room had
shot out the control unit and effectively sealed the overhead doors. The only
way the corvette could escape was by blasting it's
way through three feet of crystalline aligned steel. Not a very promising
course of action. Now he had two problems. The
first was that the simple spy and report mission had gone belly up and
Noomtil was warned that other gangleaders were interested in him. The second
was that he had to make sure he salvaged something from this mess. He knew
that nearly every mission he went on was fraught with danger,
every one had an above average chance of going wrong, requiring quick
improvisation on his behalf. That's why Glann Cipple sent him on these kind of missions, where the situation was unguessable and the threat unknown. Goah Galletti was
known for his ability to adapt to adverse conditions. He loaded two mini-missiles in
the launcher under the barrel of his heavy pistol and activated the targeter. He could hear the low voices of his adversaries
as they tried to guess his location and condition.
"Where is he?"
"Is he still there?"
"Did we get him?" He saw a gap between two other
containers, offering good cover to the sidewall of the hangar. Reaching into
his longcoat pocket as he moved slowly forward, he
removed a small explosive and attached it the container he had just used as
protection. He could hear viable targets creeping forward, goading each other
on, approaching his position. This should keep them guessing,
he thought, and primed the detonite
in the device. Low and quick, he slipped between the containers. At the wall there was a service
stair leading up to the huge motors that powered the sliding roof. It was a
meteor-protected stairwell, thick sheets of metal covering the climb up to
the roof. As Goah looked up, he could see that the underside of the huge
blast doors was covered with pipes and framework. If he could get up there,
climb across onto the frame and then over the hangar, he could lower himself
down onto the corvette with his syntherope launcher. Quickly he shrugged off his longcoat, hanging it over the rusting hinge of another
container. He took his last explosive from his pocket and primed that one,
too, putting it back in the coat and leaving it behind. All he wore now was
his thick black padded shirt, his loose black trousers and his knee high
boots, black, and secured up the outer sides by large buckles. The perfect
clothing for a subterfuge mission. He checked to make sure there was
no-one else up the stairwell above him and ascended, pistol raised and
leading the way, the targeter relaying information
to down the scope and showing a computerised threat assessment on a small
screen on the back of the weapon. An expensive and experimental weapon, Goah
was glad that Grabby had carried out the modifications he had requested back
at his gunshop on Chancai. What he needed at this particular time was a heavy
mobile weapon that he could handle easily. At the top of the stairwell, he
passed the huge cogs of the roof motor and walked to the end of a walkway. He
kept low, scanning the hangar below him. As he glanced back to his former
hiding place, he saw that two henchmen, a Rodian and a roughly dressed human,
were sneaking around the container. They quickly jumped around, weapons
ready, and then relaxed. They disappeared from sight behind it.
"Hundo can't see anything! He's not here!" The human walked
back and shouted to his companions with a shrug. The others started to slowly
come out of cover as Goah pressed a button on his wristcomp. The first detonator he had
planted responded to his signal and erupted, throwing fire and smoke out
across the hangar and toppling the container. Goah couldn't see what happened
to the Rodian, but the human was thrown forward several meters to land at the
feet of one of his colleagues, a Quarren with the moist, squid-like head of
his race. The Quarren dived back, panicking, firing blindly in the general
direction of the container. His volley was mis-timed,
however, as the Rodian, injured by the blast bust still mobile, came
staggering back around the fallen container. The Quarren's
shots slammed around and into him, two bolts taking him in the torso and the
leg. He squealed and toppled backwards. Once again, the gunmen fell into
chaos.
"What the hell...!"
"What was that?"
"Hundo! He shot Hundo!"
"Where...!" Goah allowed himself a quick,
sardonic smile as he clambered over the walkway railing and took hold of the
framework under the overhead doors. Sow a little confusion. Point them in the
wrong direction. Whilst they scattered, focusing on that area of the hangar,
he could climb, upside-down, leg over leg and hand over hand, across the roof
and over the corvette. He could hear more muffled shouts
as the smoke drifted up and started to smother the ceiling. Goah took a deep
breath and allowed the smoke to cover him as he climbed, glad at the extra
cover. It took him several minutes to traverse the long distance between the
walkway and the area over the starship. In that time, the gunmen had once
again started forward after obvious discussion between themselves. He was startled as explosions
started to tear up the area around the body of the Rodian. The goons were
throwing grenades into the containers; assuming that Goah was still there and
trying to either kill him by force or flush him out. They did not concern
themselves that their actions would tear the Rodian to pieces, a fact which
let slip that they did not care about their own casualties and therefore did
not function as a unit. Goah filed this little piece of information in the
back of his mind. Noomtil's operation is nothing but a bunch of hired hands
that are there for money. No loyalty to one another. No definitive plan of
retaliation to threats. Obviously, Noomtil just threw some credits around and
hired whoever he could find. Interesting. He unclipped the syntherope launcher from his belt, a pistol-like item
with a huge powered wheel that could support his body weight, and wrapped the
unfolded three-point grappler around the framework. He checked the grapple
was secure, then swung off the roof, right hand
holding his blaster, left hand holding the launcher. He squeezed the trigger
of the launcher twice in quick motions, and the powered wheel started to feed
out monofilament syntherope. He slowly started to descend to
the top of the corvette, looking up periodically to make sure the grapple
stayed secure, looking down to watch his height from the ship. He was about
half way down when he decided to check on the progress of his adversaries. He looked down. Straight into the eyes of the
Quarren that had shot the Rodian.
"Aftu! Ack shushanta!" The alien roared, pointing up at the
descending figure and raising his weapon. His colleagues stopped their
bombing of the containers and followed his long, pointing finger. Goah
cursed, knowing that he wouldn't have stayed hidden for long but annoyed he
had been seen whilst vulnerable, heaving his body to one side to get at least
a little swing out of the syntherope to reduce the
chances of their hitting him. He raised his own pistol and
fired off a snapshot. The bolt narrowly missed the Quarren and exploded
against the floor, causing two of the gunmen to dive for cover. The Quarren
fired but his shot went wild, disorientated by the smoke and the shock of
Goah's bolt passing by so very close. This gave Goah the chance to take
better aim and plant a bolt in the Quarren's
forehead, who collapsed to the ground in a shower of
sparks. Others started firing randomly,
some bolts so near to Goah he could feel the heat from them. It was only a
few meters to the ship, so he simply let go of the launcher and dropped. As
he fell, he thumbed a small hidden switch on the handgrip of his pistol. The
mini-missile tube on the underside of the barrel reported once, sending the
two-inch projectile into the midst of the goons, who were starting to group
together in a strange form of confidence, trying to concentrate their fire to
hit their enemy. The projectile, the warhead comprising of a compact mass of
high explosive in a rich detonite sauce, exploded
on impact with the ground. Designed for use on vehicles, the device all but
decimated the gunmen. Goah was loath to use the mini-missiles because of
their cost and because it always took Grabby so long to secure extra ones. He hit the top of the ship hard,
bending his knees to absorb the impact and rolling over his shoulder. As he
came out of the roll he immediately saw two others who had just now climbed
to the top of the corvette to better scan the surrounding hangar. His
connection with the ship had send a resounding gong
across the vessel, alerting the two to his position and causing them to raise
weapons. He pulled off two shots, each one sending the men off the top and
down to the hard, unforgiving ground. He knew Corellian corvettes well,
and sprinting across the ship he headed to the forward end and to an
emergency escape hatch. It was circular and sunken into the outer hull, the
locking mechanism plasma welded shut to stop any potential thieves or enemies
from breaking in. He checked that the hatch had not
been re-enforced in any way and, satisfied that it hadn't, placed one of his
spare blaster packs under the large handle and then walked briskly away,
counting his steps. When he was satisfied that he was out of harm's way, he
turned smartly, aimed the pistol at the pack and fired his remaining
mini-missile. It sped the gap, connecting with
the blaster pack and sending up a huge fireball, the ruptured pack adding to
the already huge amount of energy released from the missile. Power arced like
lightning from the ship to the roof rafters as the hatch was ripped from its
mounting and down into the ship. The wave of energy washed warmly over Goah
and he just stood, weapon outstretched, loose hair blowing in the concussion
and eyes narrowed against the smoke. He quick-stepped forward, knees
bent ready for action, weapon raised ready for retaliation. He didn't allow
for the smoke to clear, using the rising smog as cover and giving anyone on
the deck below no chance of recovery. He placed his arms cross-like over his
chest and dropped down through the newly opened hatch. As he landed, he saw two figures
in the gloom, lying motionless on the floor. The one, another Rodian, was
smouldering from the explosion but other, an ugly, warty-faced Weequay
wasn't. He levelled his blaster and shot the Weequay in the thigh, bringing a
scream from the alien who sat up quickly, raising a weapon he had hidden
under his body. Goah shot him in the throat and stepped over the dead form.
"Nice try." He murmured to the would-be ambusher. Forward was the cockpit and so
Goah crept forward down the originally white but now filthy grey corridor to
the entrance. He slowly came up to the side of the door, listening intently
but hearing nothing but sizzles and cracks from the overhead wiring which had
been ruptured by the hatch explosion. He dared not take a deep breath to calm
himself in case some of the ozone was fumes from the burning materials. It
would not do have a sudden attack of nausea or dizziness. He spat on the barrel of his
weapon to aid cooling and pressed the blast door release stud. Even as the first crack appeared
between the doors to the cockpit laser fire came roaring through. Bolts
slammed into the far wall and into the door itself as the occupants of the
cockpit tried to defend themselves, obviously
unnerved that someone managed to get this close. As they fired randomly out
into the corridor and the gloom, Goah screamed and kicked a panel on the
wall. The firing stopped and he heard one of the assailant's shout.
"Yes! I got him! That was me!" As the shouter emerged from the
cockpit, Goah stepped forward and placed his still-warm muzzle against their
temple. The shouter froze a young scaly
woman with wide brown eyes and heavily armoured clothing. She stood
stock-still and just allowed her eyes to flicker in Goah's direction. When
she saw who it was her lipless jaw started to tremble.
"Drop the weapon." Goah instructed and she immediately
obeyed. With short nudges of his pistol he made her walk back into the
cockpit. She kept her hands in sight at all times and stepped warily. Only one other figure was in the
cockpit and that was an alien the same race as the female Goah had his gun to
the head of. Obviously male, he started forward and raised his blaster. He
was tall and powerful, with mis-matched clothing and a long blue mane of hair
that swept from his brow, down his cheeks to his waist. The weapon he held
was large and powerful, and he stood in a pose that told Goah that he knew
how to use it. Behind him, smoke drifted past the cockpit window and screens
told stories of the corvette's condition.
"Let my daughter go!" The alien shouted, flicking the weapon
to active and levelling the gun at Goah.
"Drop the weapon or I'll drop your daughter. She doesn't have to
die."
"You'll kill us both."
"If I wanted you dead you would be. I came here to watch, not to
kill, but your trigger happy guards got a little over-excited." The alien frowned, the scales
over his eyes overlapping as he did so.
"You're lying."
"Father, it's Goah Galletti." The
daughter cried. "For freck's sake, do what he says!" At the mention of his name, Goah
quickly grabbed the female around the throat and levelled his weapon at the
alien, his visage never changing. Neither did the alien, who stared at Goah
with obvious contempt.
"So, the bastard who works for Cipple. Did he send you to finish
me? That's what you've come for, yes?"
"No, I came to observe your operation. I was discovered."
"So you decided to kill all my men?"
"I get annoyed when I lose at hide and seek. Now put down the gun
and neither of you have to die today. It's quite simple, really, when you
think about it." The alien watched him carefully,
but Goah betrayed no emotion and stared at him blankly. After a few seconds
of mental torture, the alien lowered his gun and dropped it to the floor.
"It appears I have little choice." He said. As soon as the weapon clattered
on the steel plates at the alien's feet, Goah released the female who staggered
forward to wrap her arms around her father's waist and partially hide behind
him. The alien put a protective arm around her and glared at Goah.
"Is this the part where you kill us?" He asked.
"No," Goah sighed, only partially relaxing and lowering his
weapon only slightly. "It didn't have to be like this. You could have
opened trade talks with Glann, with any of the gangleaders, but you had to
snub their offers and carry on, trading and running in somebody else's space
of operations and stepping on toes. I was to come here to evaluate your
composition and strength and report back, Noomtil. If that's you're real
name. As it was, your rather sophisticated detection net picked me up."
"I don't need help from any of those Setnin bastards."
Noomtil snarled. "Back in the Ki-Ki Sector we take what we want."
"In the Setnin Sector that attitude invites a quick messy
death." Goah fully lowered his weapon but kept it primed and ready.
"Now, if you want to run this sector then talk
with the gangleaders."
"What, and be told to freck off?"
"No. There are certain concessions, but I'm sure you'll prefer to
pay credits than have yourself or your daughter shot." Noomtil, snarling once more,
looked at Goah with dark eyes.
"And you'll be the one to do it, yes?" Goah nodded. His answer was very
matter-of-fact.
"Yes."
"I've heard of you, Galletti. Even out in the Ki-Ki Sector we've
heard of you. The black killer. The dark assassin. The blood drinker. You've
got many names in many places. They say you kill without remorse, no
feelings, no regrets. Is that true? Are you stone hearted?" Goah shrugged.
"I have feelings. It's just that I have to dig deep to find them.
This is my job, Noomtil. There is nothing personal in it. But if I have to
defend myself I will. Passionately. You yourself fired a weapon at me just
now, wouldn't you be glad if I was dead and you were alive?" The alien barked a laugh.
"But I kill because I have to."
"As do I."
"But I don't do it as a matter of business. The difference
between you and me, Galletti, is that I don't enjoy killing."
"No." Goah's voice was low, almost sad. "The difference
between you and me is that I don't lose any sleep over it." Goah turned, heading for the
blast door, allowing his back open to attack. But Noomtil just stared, just
watched him go.
"Clean up and get out of here." Goah said. "Dressel has
sent a hit team after you and they won't be as gentle with you or your men. I
say you've got an hour, maybe two. I was going to warn you earlier, but when
the blaster bolts started flying I kind of forgot.
Oh, and remember; change your attitude or die in the Setnin Sector." He walked from the cockpit, down
the corridor, opened the ramp, and out of the ship. Noomtil looked out of the
cockpit window and watched him step over rubble, bodies and the wounded. He
continued walking until the smoke swallowed him up.
"Father?"
"Yes?" Noomtil looked down at his daughter with a mixture of
fear and relief.
"Let's go back home.
Please." Another
Days Work 1999 short
story by Jonathan Hicks Five years after Episode IV - A New Hope Histories - Written in an afternoon, this short Goah Galletti tale shows the lengths that the black-clad assassin would go to
complete his mission. On order from Glann Cipple, Galletti stops at nothing to achieve his aim in a story familiar
throughout the timeline of the Setnin Sector - other ganglords encroaching on Setnin territory. Cast of Characters Goah Galletti Noomtil o'dorsh Hundo |