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A Winning
Hand 2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks Two years after Episode
IV – A New Hope Luronsa
IV, with its wide beaches, delicate natural locations and busy,
pleasure-filled cities, looked like a hallucination of holographic light as
Bazillicon Doron descended. The anti-grav ‘chute he had strapped to his back
rubbed his shoulder blades with every correction in trajectory. He hated
wearing the damn thing and the damn thing obviously hated being strapped to
his back. “Dammit, Tat,” he growled. “Can’t
you stop this thing from throwing me about like a pod chariot?” “Your
discomfort will only be temporary. I’ll let you take manual as soon as I’ve
guided you through the sensor beams. Now deal with it!” The mechanical
voice hummed softly in Doron’s pickup, which was
nestled secretly in his left ear. He disliked his starship computer’s
newfound independence; paying that money for a personality matrix was
obviously a bad idea. The machine had confusing conflicts in attitude. One
minute it was all-serious and very straight-laced, as a computer should be,
the next it was all irritable and quick with the one-liners. When that thing beats me in a battle of
words I’ll shoot myself, he promised. Bazillicon
Doron, covert operations specialist for the Rebel Alliance and, at this
moment, a small point of light falling through Luronsa’s
sensornets, had come to the tourist world of
Luronsa IV for a special reason. The matriach of a
neighbouring sector was here to discuss plans for industrial integration into
the Empire’s vast system of suppliers and builders and he had to do whatever
he could to stop that from happening. The Imperial presence in the Setnin
Sector was tolerable at best, being far from the supply lines from the core,
but having a new influx of materials from a source closer to the sector would
make things harder for his rebel friends. Although Doron hated direct
conflict he thrived on underhanded manipulation, which was why Alliance
Command in this sector had chosen him for this job. A reception was being held
in one of Luronsa IV’s top casinos to finalise the deal between the matriach and the Empire, so the last thing they wanted
was to go in all blasters blazing. So,
after a little searching, Bazillicon Doron was found. A short brief and the
Alliance were sure he would do the job properly. And
here he was, with his sentient starship computer parked in orbit directing
his movements and scanning the area around him to make his movement
throughout the reception a little easier. After dipping just below the upper
atmosphere but still high above the Luronsa sensornet,
the vessel, Tat II, opened an
airlock to allow Doron to jump clear and then retreated back to orbit.
Scanning the surface, Tat had detected Luronsa’s
sweeping sensor beams. At this moment, Tat was directing Doron through
the beams and to a safe landing point in the casino grounds. Which
Doron was not enjoying. The
vast garden of the casino came into view and Doron quickly scanned the ground
to be sure of no guards spotting his descent. The ‘chute gave out one last
burst of direction-changing energy and then dropped him softly to the ground. The
casino was a huge lighted glass dome filled with greenery and beings from all
over the sector. It resembled a greenhouse of immense proportions, huge blue
energy beams supporting the frail-looking structure. Inside dozens of beings
were to be seen, moving from gambling table to gambling table. As Doron
dropped into the secluded darkness of a bush, the side doors opened to allow
a couple of the attendee’s sample the night air. The noise of the casino,
laughter and noisy tables and low, unobtrusive music swept out of the dome
and covered the sound of his landing. Quickly
he dumped the ‘chute in the darker recesses of the plant life and started
unzipping the thermal dropsuit. As he stripped the
clothing off he checked in with Tat. “Are you getting a good signal, Tat?” “Loud
and clear. Are you set?” “Almost. Did you get the valet to park my
speeder outside?” “All
done this morning. The transponder puts it in parking block A, space seven.” “That puts it near the entrance. Good
work.” “As
always. Your Rodian friend Mure is
on hand to drive the speeder to you if you need it in a hurry. Have you
decided how you’re going to ruin this evenings festivities?” “I’ll ascertain the situation when I’m
inside. I’ve got enough toys to make sure I cover all my options.” The
thermal suit was rolled up into a neat ball and deposited on top of the
‘chute. Doron checked to make sure he hadn’t been spotted and then stepped
out onto the grass. The
suit he wore under his thermal was cut by the best Alderaan tailors, items of
clothing he wore with pride, items he had purchased just before his homeworld
had been obliterated by the Empire. He checked to make sure that the jacket
was on straight and the small holo-tie wasn’t
wavering too much. He pulled down his cuffs to improve the fit and started
walking. “I’m going in.” “I’ve
got you. You’ve got a couple of guards to you’re left and another to you’re
right. They’re just Imperial Army Troopers and don’t seem to be taking their
jobs too seriously. A couple of party-goers are on the porch but they seem to
be... ohh, that’s not healthy.” Doron
smiled at the immaculately dressed couple as they broke from a long
passionate kiss. The young male looked at him sheepishly and the woman
giggled. “Excuse me, I didn’t realised this was the
resuscitation class,” Doron said and the woman giggled again. The man was
obviously swayed by Doron’s infectious smile and
grinned back at him. With a quick glance Doron checked the three guards but
saw that only the one on his own had taken any interest. The Imperial quickly
went back to looking lazily out over the beach as he saw the three attendees
conversing. Doron
stepped up to the door and it slid open, revealing sights and smells he had
not sampled for weeks. An amphitheatre of gambling and socialising greeted
him, with several games on several of the tiered levels. Holographic game
pieces and hovering gameboards called out for him
to play but he resisted the call. He had plenty of time for relaxation later.
He
quickly headed down the steps past closely packed beings of all shapes and
sizes, all dressed in their finery for the evening’s reception. They all
watched games and eyed up the potential competition but Doron’s
eyes were searching for one place, and as he looked down into the very centre
of the amphitheatre he saw it; the Sabacc table. At
the table were five individuals. Two of them, a bald human with a cyber-patch
over one eye and a stern-looking Chagrian with blue skin and huge horns
pointing both up and down from his hairless head, were obviously regulars to
the casino. They were relaxed and seemed comfortable with their surroundings.
The third man, with short precise hair and a small growth of hair on his
chin, was an Imperial officer of some importance, it seemed. According to the
rank insignia on his perfect grey uniform he was an Admiral. The fourth
individual was the matriach of the sector the
Imperials were hoping to get a fresh supply route from, Lady Broznain. She
was dressed in a splendid gold affair with holographic sequins lining her
neck dress and a huge plume of some sort sweeping from her hat. The
fifth one caused Doron to smile to himself. She was
human with a long face and a mane of flowing black hair. Her makeup
highlighted her delicate features, and beautiful features they were. She was
seated next to the matriach and, if Doron’s guess was right, taking into account the sequins
she, too, wore on her neck dress, was accompanying the matriach. He
stepped quickly down the steps as he saw a spare seat at the table and got
there just before a large bearded man took it. He slid into the seat and
looked around the table. His timing was well judged as they had just finished
another hand and were waiting for the ‘droid dealer to hand out another game. To
Doron’s right was the woman with the black hair and
to his left was the Chagrian, who looked at him with a little disdain. Doron
smiled at him and then at the ‘droid. “Room for one more?” “Of course, sir,” the hovering automaton
replied. “Shall I order a drink for you?” “Yes, please. A whiskey-vineau, vibrated not centrifuged.” “Of course. The entry fee is two thousand
credits.” Doron
shrugged. “A little less than what I’m used to but I
guess I can manage.” He turned his smile on the black haired woman who tried
to avoid his gaze. The one-eyed man huffed. The
matriach was pressing a small stud in front of her
and the pile of credits in the centre of the table were caught in a small
beam and dragged to an already large pile in front of her. “Doron,”
Tat communicated, “I’m picking
up some kind of distortion field at that table. One of the guests there might
have a manipulation gadget that changes the holo-cards.
I’ll see if I can narrow the target.” Doron
didn’t answer directly but coughed to acknowledge the message. “My Lady Broznain,” the Imperial Admiral
was saying, “it appears you win again. You seem to be a woman with remarkable
skill.” If
Doron hadn’t been in pleasant company he would have vomited at the Admiral’s
sycophantic words. The evening was supposed to celebrate the deal
finalisation and the officer was obviously doing everything he could to make
sure that nothing was going to spoil it. Doron surmised that if there was a
manipulation field then it was probably the Imperial generating it to allow
the matriach to win. “I’m just lucky, that is all,” she said
after a small childish giggle. The Admiral leaned forward to continue his
praise but Doron interceded. “I was always a believer that skill played
a large hand in Sabacc and luck was nothing but a sequence of events,” he
turned his eyes to the Admiral, “decided by the cards.” The Imperial locked
eyes with Doron but didn’t appear affected by his words. He’s a cool one, Doron thought. “Thank you, mister...?” The matriach let the question hang, waiting for Bazillicon’s answer. “Doron,” he replied, a small smile playing
on his lips. “Bazillicon Doron.” “Well, Mister Doron, lets see how my skill
holds up shall we?” Two
cards were flung at each player as the ‘droid started the next hand. Doron
took a credit stack from his belt and placed it in the pot. The ‘droid
quickly sucked it up. “You are the newest player so you may
begin the betting,” the ‘droid said. Doron checked his cards and kept his
visage unreadable. He had a nine of staves and a mistress. Not a perfect
start but not a bad one. He took another two hundred from his pouch and
dropped into the pot. The
black-haired woman nodded and matched the bet, all the others following
suite. “Doron,
I’m picking up emanations from that manipulation field,” Tat
reported. Doron spared a quick glance over at the Admiral and saw he was
adjusting the links on his left cuff. He smiled. “Have
your cards changed?” One
cough. Yes. He now had the nine of staves and the evil one. “We
could use this to our advantage.” A
clear of the throat. Agreed. “I
think I can scramble the field with a localised jamming signal. The dealer
‘droid might detect it, though. Shall I?” Two
coughs. No. “Okay.
Just cough once when you want me to.” One
cough. Yes. “Nasty cough you’ve got there,” the
one-eyed man said with more than a little irritation. “Just a little viral infection I got from
the plague world of Gest,” Doron lied and coughed in the man’s direction just
as the dark-haired lady called the hand. “And you are?” “Odge Obb. I work for the Luronsa Credit
Mint, at the Shoon Coinery,” he replied and started to wipe his mouth with
his handkerchief. Doron made a mental note of his features and name. A
contact in the financial heart of the planet may serve him well in the
future. They
all placed their hands down and, once again, the matriach
had won. She smiled and hit her claim stud. As
the ‘droid reclaimed the cards and started the next hand, Doron turned to the
woman sat next to him. “So, who do I have the pleasure of being
called by?” he asked. She turned to him. “My name is Loorve
Longteem, Mister Doron. I haven’t seen you here before, and such a large bet
for such a miserable hand.” She nodded to his credits as he piled them on the
table. He looked at them and smiled. “My soft hands are usually a safe bet,” he
said and picked up the cards that came his way. She did her best to ignore
his words but he saw her smile faintly out of the corner of his eye. “Are you a high-stakes player, Mister
Doron?” she asked. “With most things in life. It depends on
who I’m playing against.” He threw an obvious glance of distaste at the
Imperial, hoping that Loorve noticed it. He was
pleased when he saw that she noticed his look and smiled at him. “I guess even the best gambler can be
upset by the worst kind of player,” she said and threw her own look at the
Admiral. The
cards were dealt and Doron looked at his hand. He had a three of flasks and a
two of staves. Not the perfect hand but he knew of one way out of it. He
watched as Loorve placed a stack of credits in the
pot, smiling at Doron as she did so. A stack equalling seven thousand credits.
There was a sharp intake of breath from several watchers and as the rest of
the table equalled the bet a crowd started gathering. Doron
smiled as the Admiral placed another two thousand in the pot. “Let’s make this a little more
interesting, shall we?” he said. Reluctantly, the one-eyed human and the
Chagrian met the amount, but as the Imperial was about to ask for another
card Doron noisily gathered up more credits. “As you say, Admiral,” he said, “more
interesting.” He dropped another five thousand into the pot. The audience
gasped. The
Chagrian held up his hands and threw his cards back at the ‘droid. He leaned
back, effectively out of the game. Doron held the Admiral’s stare. Then, with
a slow smile, the Admiral matched him. “Another card each,” he said to the
‘droid, without taking his eyes off Doron’s. Doron
allowed a small smile to creep onto his features. Loorve
and the matriach matched the bet and, after a
little thought, so did the one-eyed human. The
cards were dealt. Doron looked at his three-card hand. He had the three of
flasks, the two of staves and a zero idiot card, a winning hand. All he had
to do was make sure he kept it. He was sure that the Imperial would send out
his manipulation field and interfere with the ‘droid signal that randomly
changed the card’s holographic value. He watched as the Imperial moved his
hands to his cuff. Doron
coughed. “Got
it. Jamming’s on.” The
Admiral adjusted his cuff and then turned back to the game. “So, then,” he said. “Shall we see who the
lucky player is?” He turned his cards over. His hand was nowhere near a
winning hand. Loorve turned her cards and Doron saw
she also had a poor hand, as did the one-eyed man. Then
the matriach turned her cards and the pictures and
numbers on those cards caused a murmer of delight
to go through the crowd. She had a total value of twenty-three. Pure Sabacc. She
communicated her glee. “Sabacc!” she shouted, and the audience
clapped at her fortune. She started to reach for the claim stud. “Congratulations,” the Imperial said, and
patted her on the hand. “Actually,” Doron said, causing the
matriarch’s finger to hover over the button, “I’m afraid I must be the
culprit who ends your run of luck tonight.” He placed the cards down, showing
the Idiot’s Array. A winning hand, even over Pure Sabacc. The
audience cheered and clapped appendages. The
Imperial stared at the cards and went so red he seemed ready to burst. The matriach smiled and took it all well, but her displeasure
was evident. The one-eyed man stared on in disbelief and Loorve
had to cover her mouth to stop from laughing out loud. “It appears,” the Imperial said, “that luck is with you...” but his words were cut off by
the dealer ‘droid. “Sorry to interrupt, gentlebeings,
but there appeared to be a foreign jamming signal at this table.” The crowd
gasped. Foreign signals at a Sabacc table? Was someone manipulating the holo-cards? Doron shrugged. “I suggest we all turn out our pockets and
allow the droid to scan us,” he said, knowing full well that the ‘droid would
detect the manipulation field equipment of the Imperial. “We’re all players
here, I’m sure there’s just some mistake.” Before
the Admiral could object the matriach stood up. “Yes, of course,” she said, “Admiral?” The
crowd looked at the Imperial expectantly, the only one at the table who was
not standing to allow the ‘droid to run a focused scan. He looked around the
players and some of the faces surrounding him and he was obviously uncertain
what to do. He waited until the ‘droid had scanned the matriach
and then looked on the automaton with disgust. “How dare you think that I, Admiral Felld
of the Imperial Navy, would stoop myself to cheating these fine ladies...” Before he realised what he was doing he had stood up in
his anger. Before he could re-seat himself the ‘droid ran a quick full-body
scan. “My apologies, Admiral Felld, but it
appears you have a holo-card manipulator field
emitter secreted up your left sleeve. Please explain yourself.” “Yes, do,” Doron put in and the Admiral
turned his rage on him. “You...!” “I see what you are doing!” the matriach exploded. “Think you can facilitate this supply
deal by trying to make me more responsive by cheating on my behalf, do you?
Is that how the Empire does all its deals? Well, you can forget it! Dolton!”
She motioned to a tall gangly alien stood by the bar. “Bring my speeder! I’m
leaving, and I’m taking your precious supply routes with me!” Mission accomplished, Doron thought as he watched the crowd close in on
the Imperial with an angry murmer. Although, this could get ugly. The
Admiral panicked, shocked at the sudden change of fortune and the angry crowd
in front of him. He jumped over to the matriach and
grabbed her, no obvious help from his fellows who
were scattered around the casino was forthcoming. He pulled her in front of
him and produced a small blade from his belt and jammed it by her throat. The
crowd faltered. “Get back!” he shouted. “Back, or I’ll stick this knife in your precious matriach! You wouldn’t want me to pierce Broznain, would
you?” he started to back to the doors as his army troopers ran in to see what
all the commotion was about. Doron
stepped forward, hands up. “Admiral, no-one wants this. Just let her go and walk away. You haven’t gained this evening so just
count your losses.” “I’m sure we’ll get the supply line if the
matriarch’s life hangs in the balance,” the Admiral sneered. “One way or the
other, we will get what we came for!” “Whatever you say,” Doron said, and as he lowered
his arms he flicked his hand. His
chronometer on his right wrist hissed sharply and a small dart sped over the
table and into the Admiral’s forehead. The fast-acting sedative in the tiny
syringe caused the Admiral to stiffen almost immediately and he fell
unconscious to the floor. He was pleased with the result. The last he had
wanted was to have to pull his blaster and blow Felld away. The matriach staggered away, unharmed. Doron adjusted the
collar of his suit and looked at Loorve with his
enigmatic smile. “Just thought I’d inject something into
the conversation,” he said. Unfortunately,
his action had not gone unnoticed as two of the army troopers forced their
way through the crowd. “You! Halt!” Doron
pulled a pistol free of a secret holster inside his jacket and pushed his way
through the crowd. The troopers had already pulled their own weapons and the
crowd started screaming and shouting and diving for cover. They lifted
communicators to their mouths and started calling for backup. “Kyu, Emm, get
in here! Laze and Bee, cover the main entrance!” Doron
tapped his earpiece and quickly changed frequencies. “Mure, do you copy?” “Mure
here, I’m way ahead of you. Saw the ruckus. I’m bringing the speeder round
now.” “Roger, Mure,” Doron shouted over the
noise and dived for the exit. The Imperials were firing now, blaster bolts
bouncing off the walls and breaking glass as they gave chase. Loorve
ran after Doron, wanting to get away from the place as fast as possible. If
they were willing to threaten the matriach then
they would involve her handmaiden also and she was far to
well versed in self-preservation to allow that to happen. She kept pace with
Doron as he started out the doors. More
Imperials appeared from around the room, so Doron unclipped his holo-tie and dropped it to the floor. It sparked once and
then started to emit a huge green gas cloud that effectively covered their
escape from the casino and ruined any accurate shots the Imperials were
hoping to make. He ran down the steps with Loorve
in tow as a well-dressed Rodian jumped out of a sleek, white hard-topped
Landspeeder. “Thanks, Mure!” Doron yelled. “Get out of
here!” As
Mure disappeared into the night, Doron dived into the vehicle, closely
followed by Loorve. He gunned the powerful engine
and shot off down the casino’s drive. “Don’t touch anything,” he warned his
passenger as she studied the controls of the Landspeeder. He piloted the
craft out of the gates and onto a busy main road. He slowed his speed so as
not to attract too much attention and settled into the moulded seat. “Thank you,” Loorve
said, and Doron smiled back. “Tat, mission accomplished. Get to
the spaceport on the north quadrant and pick me up.” “On
my way. Good going, Doron.” Loorve
looked at him with a curious smile. “Who are you?” she asked. Doron
returned her gaze. “Just a man doing a job,” he replied. “You’re good,” she said. He
turned his attention back to the road ahead. “I’d be happy to show you just how good,”
he murmured, and hit the accelerator. A Winning
Hand 2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks Two years after Episode
IV – A New Hope Histories – Written by Jonathan
Hicks, this adventure is
based on the Bazillicon Doron character created by Paul Gilbert for the RPG games of the early
1990’s. Based around the adventures of
Doron and his time with the infamous Peach Squadron, this tale is a loosely hidden spin on
the James
Bond adventure films. See how many Bond links you can spot. Cast of Characters
Bazillicon Doron Loorve Longteem Lady Broznain Mure Odge Obb Admiral Felld Dolton Kyu Emm Laze Bee
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