Taking Care of Their
Own
2001 short story by Jonathan
Hicks Four
years after Episode IV – A New Hope Chancai Level Twelve,
Zelon - Eleven minutes after the murder
Officer Vurn looked down at the body that lay
half-covered by the plastic sheet the patrol 'bot's
had placed over it. It lay, charred and blackened by blaster shots, half-on
and half-off the pavement, the hovering, flashing cones spread out lit it up
at quick intervals like a strobe light. The traffic had been re-routed. Vurn hated homicides, especially ones in the city of
Chancai. Masses of press and news were being held back by militiamen as the
forensics and morgue technicians did their grisly work. Beyond the crowds
stood Imperial officers and stormtroopers, making
their presence clear but leaving Chancai's own law enforcement teams to sort
out their own mess. He took a sip out of a plastic cup. "We got a
make on this guy, Em Three?" he asked a gleaming white 'droid with the
star-shaped emblem of the Chancai Constabulary emblazoned on it's chest. "A Liman
Drose, known glitterstim addict and spice runner.
Looks like someone got frecked off
with his doings." Vurn nodded at the 'droid's comment. He liked his
partner's way with words and couldn't understand why the 'tech boys back at
HQ wanted his memory wiped to make him the model militia 'droid. "Looks like a gang hit," Vurn
said as another volley of flashlights assaulted the scene of the crime. He
noticed that a small, rodent-like alien had squeezed through the cordon and
had started taking holo-snaps. "Hey, get those
news boys back!" he yelled at the officers controlling the crowd. He
turned back to Em Three. "Get hold
of the surveillance discs for this street, and any
of the shop ones surrounding the area. We'll see what we've got." Chancai Level Twelve,
Zelon - Sixteen minutes after the murder
Working for the Chancai Express didn't pay well but Gowsa
knew, there were other ways to make money. "Put me
through to Pocock," he demanded, the comlink
sweaty in his small, rodent-like paws. The press of the crowd surrounding the
body in the street was less, here, but the noise was still high. He didn't
want to shout down the comm and had to repeat
himself. "Pocock!" he shouted. "Tell him its
Gowsa!" There was a pause and then a click. "What is it, Gowsa?" "Mister
Pocock? It’s Gowsa! Get a load of this - Liman Drose just got gunned down in
the street!" "Is that so? Who was the shooter?" "I don't
know, but officer Vurn is on the case!" Chancai Level Sixteen, Zelon - Jomobol Pocock's
Quarters - Eighteen minutes after the murder Pocock lowered the comm unit
and disconnected the call. "Damn,
Vurn," he muttered. Croof Frood looked up from the flimsy pages of the
Chancai Express he was reading and looked at his employer with his wide,
Rodian eyes. "Problem,
boss?" "Yes, Liman
Drose just got gunned down and that do-gooder Vurn is on the case."
"Drose?" Croof placed the news flimsy down and allowed what
passed for confusion to cross his almost expressionless face. "I didn't
realise there was a contract on him." Pocock frowned darkly. "There
isn't. At least, none that I know of. Drose was one of my best off-planet
runners." There was a pause as the two men digested the
information. "Do you
think he was running for someone else?" Croof asked speculatively. The
question caused Pocock's face to become even
darker. "He better
not have been. I was told by the others that my
glitterstim runs were to be left alone. Get me the Zelon Wave Exchange and
get me Glann Cipple." Amagad City, Amagad - Glann Cipple's Office - Twenty-five minutes
after the murder "I've never
heard of Liman Drose," Glann said dismissively and then shrugged to add
to his lack of knowledge concerning the man. "Was he a friend of
yours?" The
hologram of Jomobol Pocock's head and shoulders
wavered in front of Glann's tired eyes. "He was killed today, one of my best
glitterstim runners. I thought my routes and employees concerning glitterstim
were to be left alone." "You've
called the wrong man, Pocock. I don't care for your spice routes. I don't
know this Drose. And I don't appreciate the accusation." "Just so that you know I'm looking for
answers, Glann," Pocock said and terminated the connection, much to
Glann's disappointment. It was usually him
that cut off transmissions to make a point. "Damn
it," he mumbled. Melm stepped forward. "Do you
think he suspects?" he mused. "Of course
he does," Glann snapped. "But I don't know who killed Liman. That
one's way beyond me. Even so, if Pocock finds out that I've been
double-dealing with his own employees he'll squeal and let the other leaders
know. It'll be bad for business."
"Still," Melm added, "Liman is dead. He won't be
talking." "But his
assassin might know, might at least have found out
that Drose was also running for me. Not only that, this killing has got the
law's attention. I can't take that chance. Find Grin." Amagad City, Docking
Bay Eight - Forty-one minutes after the murder
There was a moment of quiet disbelief as the huge Barabel
handed Grin the comlink. "Glann
wants to speak to me?" he said
again. The huge alien nodded affirmation. Grin slowly raised the comlink to
his lipless mouth. "Er... hello?" "Grin. It’s Glann. You're the biggest
snitch in the Setnin Sector. What do you know about Liman Drose?" "Big time
glitterstim runner, heavy user. Runs for Pocock." "Not any more, he's dead. What do you know
about his movements?" "Why do you
ask?" "Because it's worth a thousand credits to
you." "Runs between
Chancai and the Brother Sector, mostly, but he's on down-time at the moment.
Got paid off for a huge haul." "What else?" "Friendly
kind of chap. Not many enemies, although he did cross the Statoone regarding
the theft of one of their own shipments, right in Statoone space." "Statoone. They're those cyborged, collective-mind lizards, right?" "Right.
They've got a price on him. One of them asked me about him a week ago,
actually." "Did you tell it where to find Drose?" "Well, it
paid me more than you are now, Glann." "Cut the shtat!
We never talked about this, okay?" "Oh,
professional courtesy and all that, Glann." Chancai, Zelon - Yapya
Restaurant - Fifty-two minutes after the murder
"Sorry I'm
late," Boba Dallagra said, seating himself on the chair opposite his
sister, Trace. "Had to take an interplanetary call." "No
trouble, I hope?" Trace asked with genuine concern. She unfolded the
napkin in front of her and laid it on her lap. A server 'droid hovered close,
waiting for an order. "Just Glann
getting angry, the usual." Boba sat and stared at the holo-menu that hovered in the middle of the table and
chewed his lip thoughtfully. Trace did the same. "So what
did he want?" Trace asked. "Hm? Who?" Boba, interrupted by the question as he
scanned the menu, looked through the image and at his sister. "Glann.
What did he want?" Boba waved the question away. "Oh, he
wants me to put the feelers around the city for a Statoone, some guy he wants
found. And taken care of. Nothing for you to be concerned about, Trace." "A
Statoone? What, the cyborg lizard beings?" With a surprised expression Boba looked up again at his
sister. "Yes,
that's it. Why?" "Because a
Statoone calling itself Squeal Six came to see me this morning, wanting a
permit to carry offensive weaponry on Chancai."
"Really?" Boba suddenly became very attentive. "Oh,
we'll have the Bantha steaks," he added for the server 'droid's
attention and the small unit drifted away. "Yes. First
time visitors to Chancai need special weapons permits so that their
intentions are clear. It came to see me because," her mouth split into a
wry smile, "it heard I was a very helpful lawyer." Boba smiled. "I don't
suppose it told you where it was intending to buy the weapon from, do
you?" Boba inquired, knowing full well what the answer was going to be. Chancai, Zelon -
Grabby's Gunshop - Sixty-three minutes after the murder
"It was a Tolleck Model Two," Grabby said into the comlink. He
had it jammed under his shoulder as he carefully removed a fused power pack
coupling on the highly volatile rifle he was working on. His balding head
shone with sweat. "Was it a good piece?" Boba asked, his voice crackling on the other end of the comm. "Yeah, not
bad. Powerful and small, only good for a few blasts, mind. It wanted
something it could tuck away unnoticed." "Really? Did you get any customer details?" "Are you
kidding? Tollecks are illegal on most worlds,
especially here on Chancai. What do you take me for, Boba?" Grabby was
smiling as he spoke. With a wider smile he successfully removed the blaster's
connection without blowing his workshop up. "Fair does. Where did it go?" "It didn't
have enough cash on it at the time so I took a marker. It was its stellarpass so it couldn't leave the planet without
paying. It came back about forty minutes ago with cash. That's it." "Who issued the stellarpass?" "It was
through an off-planet credit department. Stunk of spice, mind you." "Nice one, Grabby. Gotta go and call in the
big guns." "Sure thing, Boba. Enjoy your
meal." Chancai, Zelon - Ziggy's Sugar and Spice Shop - Seventy-eight minutes
after the murder There was an aura of strained patience as Ziggy went
through his files. The small being flipped through discs of information
before he located the one he wanted. "Here we
are," he said with a satisfied smile. "'Purchase of Spice for
medicinal purposes." Carlonian Feese, the masked Mon Calamarian hitman, loomed
over Ziggy's shoulder and looked at the purchase that came up on the monitor. "Yes, a
Statoone," Ziggy said. "Said it needed the spice to dull the pain
why the new cyborg implants took to his system. Private bill, paid direct
from a temporary account with the Bank of Zelon." "Name?"
Feese asked, his voice cold and low. "Squeal
Six." Chancai, Zelon - Bank
of Zelon - Eighty-two minutes after the murder
"If I'm found out, I lose my job," Postre said
in hushed tones, leaning in closer to his desktop comlink. "Just do it, Postre," came Feese's menacing voice from
the speaker. "Here we
are," Postre said, his voice becoming ever quieter. "Squeal Six,
temporary account whilst it was on-planet. Deductions for spice purchase,
weapon and weapon purchase permit, hotel bills..." "Hotel bills," Feese interrupted.
"Which hotel?" Chancai, Zelon - The
Red Star Hotel - Ninety-five minutes after the murder
Squeal Six had never had it so good. Its payout from
Dressel had been more than generous - the murder of Liman Drose had opened up
routes for the Cawbate-based ganglord and he showed his appreciation to the cyborged lizard by increasing his contract payment. Its
implants shone in the dull evening light. It wished its brothers were here to
share in its happiness, their linked minds coalescing in a plateau of joy as
they enjoyed the wealth. But they weren't here. It was. And that made it all the better. Surrounded by beauties of several species and mixing with
others like itself, breathing in the heady
atmosphere of the spice-filled room. It was at peace. It was with a more intense reaction, then, when it sat
bolt upright as the door to the spacious suite burst inwards. As the shock
swept the room a tall figure, dressed head to foot in long robes and face
concealed behind a large wide-eyed mask, stepped through the portal. Other beings started to make for their weapons. From
under the folds of the robes came two large gloved hands, a heavy blaster in
each. As the figure walked with slow deliberate steps towards where the
unarmed Squeal Six was sat, he sprayed the room with blaster bolts. Each shot
wounded or cut down one of the beings that tried desperately to defend
themselves. The females screamed or dived for cover, or brandished weapons of
their own and were also shot down. By the time the slowly walking figure reached Squeal Six,
fifteen bodies lay smouldering or groaning on the cushion-covered floor.
Naked forms ran screaming from the room and even though the air of the suite
was filled with the fumes of spice, Squeal Six knew that this was no
hallucination. Carlonian Feese lowered the still smoking blasters so
that each of the weapons pointed at the cyborg lizard's head. "You killed
a man of the Setnin Sector, got the attention of the law. We don't like
that." Feese made an obvious show of raising the blaster's power levels
to full. Squeal Six pressed itself back into the cushions. "Then have
the law get me!" it shouted, hoping to see a prison sentence, which was,
of course, preferable to death. "No,"
Feese responded. "Here in the Setnin Sector we take care of our
own." Chancai, Zelon - Law
Enforcement HQ - One hundred minutes after the murder
"Hey,
Vurn!" Em Three cried as he walked into the office. "There's a
report of a shooting at one of the Red Star Hotels." "Forget that," Vurn said
excitedly. He had paused one of the re-runs of the security cameras on the
level where Liman Drose had been killed. On the monitor was Liman Drose,
grimacing as he started to fall after the blaster impact. Opposite him,
clearly defined by the camera, was a Statoone with a small, powerful weapon. Vurn rubbed his hands together with anticipation. "I think
we've got our killer!" Taking Care of Their
Own
2001 short story by Jonathan
Hicks Four
years after Episode IV – A New Hope Histories – Showing the complicated machinations of the Setnin Way and how things get done in the Mid-Rim, Taking Care
of Their Own shows that
it’s truly not what you know but who you know. By Jonathan
Hicks this story features the
first appearance of the Ziggy Teflon character in a story since the 1985 rewrite of Lydon Legacy.
Cast of Characters
Liman
Drose Vurn Em Three
Squeal
Six Gowsa Jomobol
Pocock Croof
Frood Glann
Cipple Melm Grin Boba
Dallagra Trace
Dallagra Grabby
Cap Carlonian
Feese Ziggy
Teflon Postre |