An Easy Life
1999 short story by Jonathan Hicks Nine years after Episode IV - A New Hope Chancai,
the huge trade centre on the planet Zelon, was especially busy today. Rumours
had swept the multi-levelled, mile high city of a sudden slump in the credit
market. Consumers flocked to the larger trade halls to take advantage of the
loss of value, which, knowing Chancai’s varying currencies, would not last
long. Beings packed the streets and speederways,
travelling from level to level to find the best bargains. The
central shaft of the city, from the top to the bottom, was choked with
traffic. A hundred designs from a hundred worlds jostled for position in the
vertical shaft, their pilots trying to slot their vessels into empty hangars
in the walls. Traffic Control had deployed lane buoys to make sure the
starships coming in were kept in orderly queues. The buoys, like Traffic
Control’s frantic calls for order, were ignored. One
ship, a badly kept freighter of ancient design, cut through the mass of
crafts with determination. Traffic Control was calling for all other ships to
stay out of its way, the person on board the ship being of some importance.
The vessel, thin at the nose and wide at the engine section with a
cylindrical cockpit rising from the upper centre of the hull, dodged shuttles
and cargoships as it descended the shaft. With
spewing gases and minimal thrust the ship inserted neatly into a pre-prepared
landing bay. Four landing struts appeared from under the ship and it settled
gently, the hydraulics in the legs creaking loudly and bending to take the
weight. After a few seconds the strobing lights in
the hangar announcing the ships arrival ceased and service ‘droids started
ambling to the craft. A
boarding ramp under the nose unsealed and started lowering. As it lowered, a
Rodian, with his shining multi-faceted eyes sweeping the hangar and his hand
on a holstered blaster pistol walked down. He stood and scanned the hangar
once more, and then turned to motion up the ramp. Croof
Frood, Rodian mercenary and, at the moment, bodyguard, watched his employer
walk down the ramp followed by two dark-clothed human assistants. Jomobol
Pocock, one of the leading figures in Chancai’s underworld, came to stand
next to his protector. “Clear.” Croof said, his voice almost
gurgling as he wrapped his vocal cords around basic, the common language of
the speaking galaxy. Jomobol
Pocock was not tall but he was broad. His dark hair was cut to almost
symmetrical perfection, a bowl of blackness on his head. Whilst his face was
of young appearance his eyes were that of an old man. He motioned to one of
his assistants and they quickly hurried off to the Portmasters office to pay
the docking bill. “I don’t like landing this far from my
quarters,” Jomobol said with obvious disgust. “Why did you choose to land
here?” He was still looking furtively about the bay, even after Croof’s assurance of safety. “I thought it best we didn’t wait in that
holding pattern and it’s only two levels up, boss.” the Rodian said. “We’ll
get a Robo-hack.” “No, I’ll hire a speeder. I’m not having
some strange machine ship me about Chancai.” Croof
knew that Jomobol wasn’t paranoid but he sometimes wished he wouldn’t be so
over-cautious. That cost money. “It’s packed today. I don’t think anyone's be stupid enough to try anything.” Croof
unclipped the safety strap on his pistol. “Three attempts on my life in as many
weeks,” Jomobol pointed out, not in fear but in simple explanation. “If it
wasn’t for you and Hecket I’d have been fried ages ago.” Croof
nodded. He and Hecket Ut, the tattooed human who also helped protect the
crimelord, had been taking it in turns to look after him. Pocock liked the
thought that at least one fresh bodyguard was available at all times and they
were both willing to pull extra shifts. Pocock paid bonuses for every
thwarted attempt on his life. The
assistant quick-stepped back, meeting with the pilot who had descended the
ship’s ramp and handing him a landing permit. The pilot nodded and walked
back up the ramp, sealing the inner airlock behind him. The
four beings walked from the sealed ship to the exit, Croof preceding and
Pocock following between his two assistants. They walked with a purpose, long
powerful strides taking them through the blast doors and into the street. The
tunnel-like streets of Chancai were filled to bursting, with thick crowds of
beings swarming left and right. Six lanes of traffic, three sets of two lines
above one another, filled the air with hisses and whines as vendors shouted
to be heard in shop entranceways. Holo-signs blazed in the air, advertising
shows, games, offers, and entertainment of every variety. They revolved
slowly, shimmering as traffic passed through them. Croof
looked into the masses and sighed. “Hire-a-sled’s that way.” he shouted to
Pocock. “Stay close.” They
pushed into the crowd, the two assistants shoulder to shoulder with Pocock
and so close to Croof in front they were pushing into his back. He forced his
way through, some glaring at him with anger, some staring with concern. Tall
for a Rodian, his expressionless face unsecured blaster and heavily padded
overcoat made him quite imposing. Hire-a-sled
was a large showroom packed with several different models of speeder for rent
or purchase. Sleek expense or bulky practical, all tastes were catered for.
The small Sullustian sales assistant walked over, all smiles and moving
hands. “Heck
jubba de quango?” it
said, its multiple lips quivering as it spoke. “Basic, please.” Croof asked, not fully
understanding the dialect the Sullustian was using. “How can I help you?” it repeated. Croof
gave the showroom a quick glance. “We want to hire a speeder. Nothing fancy,
just a nippy little repulsor to take four.” “Ah, yes I have the latest from A-desando.
Or maybe...”
“Stow it,” Croof cut him off. The Sullustian, obviously annoyed at the
interruption to his sales pitch, puffed out his chest with indignation. “Just
bill me for that Mobquet over there.” With
a resigned flick of his head, the Sullustian hurried off to fetch the
relevant datapad. Croof watched the passing crowds expectantly. Pocock
watched his gaze and smiled. “I wish you wouldn’t be so rude, Croof.
Some of these beings are only trying to make a living. Selling is his job.” “Yeah, and are you telling me he...” He
was cut off by a high-pitched horn blaring from the speederway. A bright red
Robo-hack had broken from its flight line and dived down into the lane below.
The speeder swung around oncoming traffic and dived over the heads of
startled civilians who ducked for cover. It careered into the showroom, narrowly missing the repulsorlift vehicles
parked by the entrance, and came to a shuddering stop. Croof
grabbed Jomobol as the door to the Robo-hack started to swing upwards. He
pushed him down behind a speeder with a cry of, “Down!” The
figure emerging from the speeder was swathed in rags that covered the face, a
large heavy blaster coming free of the folds of cloth encircling the body. In
response, Croof pulled his own weapon. Jomobol had been smothered by his two
assistants but Croof’s shove hadn’t got him out of
harms way. The swathed figure fired a single shot, which exploded right next
to his feet. Croof
levelled his blaster, pulling the trigger hard. A blaster bolt leaped the
distance, exploding against the cab door as the figure moved at the last
instant. Croof, shocked, fired again as the figure stood. The
bolt took the would-be assassin in the chest. The figure stiffened, dropped
slowly and crumpled to the floor. The showroom was filled with smoke. The
crowds outside moved along quickly, averting eyes from the murder attempt and
ignoring what was happening. Two security seekers logged the incident and
zipped off for official help. Quickly
jumping to his feet, Croof cautiously approached the still form and laid his
suckered fingers on the neck. “He’s dead.” he informed Jomobol who was
already getting to his feet and brushing down his coat. Croof heaved the
figure into the back seat of the Robo-hack and slammed the door shut. “Get
the speeder and get back to safety. I’ll dispose of the body.” Pocock
beamed with contentment. “Excellent work, Croof. Another one
stopped, eh? I’ll see you get another bonus. Shall we say five thousand?” Opening
the other door on the speeder, Croof pushed the deactivated cab ‘droid out of
the pilot’s seat and nodded to his employer. “Thank you, boss. Appreciated.” He
clambered into the vehicle and backed it out of the showroom. Jomobol
Pocock turned to the salesman who had returned to see the damage. Knowing he
would have to buy the alien’s silence, he put on his best bribery face and
approached the Sullustian. Croof
turned the speeder into the traffic and headed down towards Fringe Mall, the
outskirts of Chancai. The Robo-hack handled terribly, and he constantly
glanced into his aft viewscreen to make sure no one was following. The
rag-covered figure began to stir. Slowly,
the form moved, sitting up in the seat directly behind Croof. Croof was
watching the speederway ahead and unaware what was happening behind him. The
figure raised a hand. The
rags came away and the tattooed male human underneath the swathes blew out a
long-held breath. He was sweating under the thick cloth. Two tufts of wiry
hair grew from his temples, his head otherwise bald. A painted serpent ran
from his left temple and slithered its way down his neck to disappear under
his collar. He
looked down at the hole in his clothes. “What the hell was your blaster set to,
Croof?” “Low intensity.” “Well, it bloody hurt that time.” “Make it look good, Hecket, that’s the
plan.” Hecket Ut, Jomobol Pocock's
second bodyguard, rubbed the still smouldering hole in his chest armour. “It still bloody hurt.” Croof
snickered. “Five thousand bonus that time.” Hecket
was impressed. “Fifty-fifty?” “As always.” The
speeder entered the lower levels, where the traffic was calmer and the crowds
less in size. “Poor old Pocock.” Hecket said. “If only
he knew we were making cash at these attempts on his life. If we make the
next one more spectacular he may up the bonus again. What are you gonna do it
as?” Croof
shrugged. “I was thinking of getting a Barabel mask,
you know, big and mean. Make it seem like a real threat.” “I like it. The best thing is that I get
to shoot you this time.” With
a loud laugh Croof pulled into a side road. “Anything for an easy life, Hecket.”
An Easy Life 1999 short story by Jonathan Hicks Nine years after Episode IV - A New Hope Histories – Croof Frood and Hecket Ut, two men involved with Jomobol Pocock, and both out to make a quick buck. This Jonathan Hicks tale shows the devious
nature of the underworld, and the fact that even a ganglords most trusted men
can be plotting against him. Cast of
Characters Jomobol
Pocock Croof
Frood Hecket
Ut |