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Couriers of a Dangerous
Cargo 2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks Nine years after Episode IV – A New Hope Water. And lots of it,
Squiz realized. No wading this time. Beon Odiss
gritted his teeth and turned his head to look down at Squiz, knowing that any
second the dwarf was going to explode into a ball of fury. He was pleasantly
surprised that his traveling companion chose to fume silently. Probably
saving himself up, Beon thought. “I promise, I never knew this river was
here. If I had known, I wouldn’t have brought us this way.” Beon showed his
hands palm up to Squiz to convey his helplessness. “Stop yer whining,” growled the dwarf,
“yer’ll put me off me supper.” Beon shrugged and stepped down to the bank, scanning each flow of the river. “It must be an offshoot from the Ovetti River,” he mused, “It doesn’t seem that wide.” “I’ll be damned if I’m swimming it!”
Squiz barked, “We’ll probably have to backtrack for miles! ‘Oh, don’t worry Squiz,’” the dwarf
mimicked a high voice, or as high as his rough voice could get, “‘I know a short cut that’ll knock at
least a day off our journey to Chancai’. Ye great idiot!” Beon spun on
the dwarf with a wide smile. “Fear not, my pessimistic friend, I think
I spy a ferry crossing upstream. All is not lost.” The news did
little to raise Squiz’s spirits. In fact, there was very little about this
journey that Squiz was finding even remotely enjoyable. The weather had been
awful, with high winds bringing the last of the winters snow from the
mountains, the hunting, the reason they had come out here in the first place,
had been almost non- existent, forcing the companions to eat their soggy
rations, and now this. He had been nice and warm in Chancai that bar job had
suited him quite nicely. But no, get an idea in Beons head, and off he went.
He could hardly even remember what this journey was about, something to do
with a reward for a big lizard of some-sort and plenty of credits. That’s typical of humans, especially Beon,
Squiz thought. They can’t leave well enough
alone. They set off in
the direction of the ferry. Squiz grumbled at the weather as they winded
their way through the trees. Beon swore at him. Aiacken swore
loudly as his Tauntaun’s foot became jammed in the root. The beast tumbled
violently, but luckily he was thrown clear of the danger of being trapped
under his mount. There was an audible snap
as the animal’s leg broke in two, leaving it a screaming, thrashing creature.
Aiacken leaped to his feet to put an end to the Tauntaun’s suffering with the
blade of his vibrostaff. The other two
Tauntaun riders came to a halt next to him. The Ferrerean cursed and looked
up at the first rider. “Luck has not been with us,” he said
softly. The rider held out his arm to help the Ferrerean ride behind him on
his mount. Aiacken shook his head. “Riding twosome will slow you down, and
you need all the speed you can get,” he said, removing a blaster pistol from
his belt and arming the weapon. He laid it on the ground and recovered his
sword from the Tauntaun. “Ride on. I will hold them for as long as I can.” The other rider
looked angered and said. “No! We have come so far! The ferry is
only a short ride ahead. We will make it!” “No, Inya,” Aiacken closed his eyes and
sighed deeply, “It is not worth the risk. I
am not worth the risk. You must ride on and reach Chancai soon. I will hold
them.” The two
regarded each other steadily, and finally Inya nodded with reluctance. In the distance
there was a howl, followed by a shrill note like the horn of a hunting party.
The three snapped their heads around to stare off into the forest. The other
rider urged his mount forward. “What if they catch you?” he said, his
voiced made tinny by the mask he was wearing. It was covering the whole of
his face, with only holes for the eyes and mouth. It was made of a dull gray
metal, covered with dirt from a hard road, as was his clothes and Tauntaun.
As was all their belongings. Aiacken looked
at him grimly and picked up the pistol. “They will not take me.” The masked
figure nodded, and spurred his Tauntaun onward. The howl drifted through the
trees again, this time closer, more distinct. It was not a single voice, but
a chorus of many joined together to produce the shrill cry. Inya looked down
at Aiacken. “Die honorably, my brother,” he placed
his hand on his forehead and closed his eyes in reverence. In truth, he was
holding back the swell of tears that were threatening to flow. Aiacken gripped
his wrist. “Sing of me when you reach Ferrerea.” he
said, and then leaped into the trees. Inya swung his
Tauntaun around and forced it to a gallop on the trail of the masked rider. “It’s on its way,” Beon said, gazing over
the river at the hovering platform, which was on the slow journey across the
river. The figure on board the ferry maneuvered the old vehicle along a blue
beam of light, which was strung across the river between two great trees. The
platform followed the beam across the gentle pull of the current. Beon turned to
Squiz who was already slumped under a tree. He unbuckled his gunbelt and
dropped it and his backpack to the ground next to the grumbling dwarf. He
wondered if any of his kind had a good disposition. He slumped down next to
him. “Ye well lucky that this ferry be ‘ere,”
Squiz snarled at his companion, “This trip is already getting to the pit o’
me stomach. What’s so great about that lizard, anyhow?” Beon snorted
and looked at Squiz as if he was correcting a mistaken child. “Not lizard, stumpy, Repotakis. A hunting animal. And from what I hear quite a few,
too, discovered in the hills just west of Chancai. Where there’s Repotaki,
there’s treasure.” “Whatever, they all smell. How did you
find out about them, another ‘friend of the sister of the man I talked to at
the inn’ was it? And don’t call me stumpy.” “Friend of the boyfriend of the sister, actually. It’s good information. Anyway,
if you thought it was so much dung, then what are you doing here?” Squiz did not
even want to try and look for an answer to that one. “I can’t let ye out of me sight for
more’n a few seconds before ye shout for ‘elp. Consider me yer wetnurse.” Beon scowled at
him and said nothing more. He looked out at the ferry and relaxed. Squiz was
busy trying to undo a knotted lace on his boot, so he let his mind wander. He looked out
into the forest behind him as he heard a shrill note from far off in the
distance. The Tauntaun’s
bit was suffused in foam, but still Inya forced the beast on, his heels dug
into the animals flanks. He whispered apologies to the creature as he spurned
it on, and kept his body low against its neck. It’s eyes were wild and
sparkling, as if it new what horrors chased it. Inya had little doubt that it
realized. The masked
rider looked over his shoulder at Inya to confirm his presence, but did not
slow the pace for the Ferrerean to catch up. Inya did not begrudge him that.
Speed was the most important thing, and he had the item they had to protect
from the enemy chasing them. If either of them were to make it, it had to be
him. He leaned lower and pushed the Tauntaun on mentally. Again the horn,
but it was cut off mid decibel. There was no shriek to follow the note, so
Inya guessed that the horde chasing them had met Aiacken’s ambush. Silence
followed for a few seconds before he heard the distant echo of the pistol. Goodbye, my brother, he thought. Teeth gritted, eyes streaming, Inya wondered if he could force any more speed out of the Tauntaun without exploding its heart. Squiz glared at
Beon. “I never ‘eard anything, come on, the ferry’s
‘ere.” Beon just shook
his head whilst buckling his gunbelt back on and staring out into the forest.
“Sounded like a shot. Or something. No matter, come on then.” He followed his
friend down to the bank where the ferry had moored. The ferryman grinned at
them, displaying his shortage of usable teeth. “Morning, gents. Just the two of you, is
it? That’ll be four credits for the pairs of you,” he held out a stained
hand, hard and calloused. His grin became expectant. Beon delved
into his pocket and removed some coins for the man. Squiz looked at him
expectantly. “It’s ye fault we’re ‘ere,” and so Beon
paid his charge, too. The ferryman quickly pocketed the money and beckoned
the pair on board. “Not a very nice day for traveling,
gents, why didn’t you wait till the weather got a bit warmer, eh? Don’t get
many walkers across these trails, more riders than anything else. Last ferry
I took across was three riders the other day, ruined a good days fishing they
did... “ and he continued to drone on about the good fishing in these waters. The trees
erupted with snorts, leaves and dirt, as if the forest had vomited the two
figures from its midst. One of the riders held up a hand and cried, “Stop!” The dwarf
glared at the Tauntaun-man. “Hell, it’s a Ferrerean. Forget ‘im, old
man, he’ll ‘ave to wait ‘is turn.” The man nodded
in agreement and continued on his way. Again the rider
called. “Stop, wait, we have to cross, please!
For the love of... “ Exasperation took the Ferrerean’s patience and he spurned
the Tauntaun to the bank, splashing into the water, trying to reach the
ferry. The other rider followed suit. “What the ‘ell are ye doin’, ye stupid
idiot?” Squiz cried as the Tauntaun flung its Ferrerean onto the barge,
spraying water all over the party. The second rider never made it; his
Tauntaun threw him from its back, not wanting to continue the journey into
the cold unwelcoming water. He resurfaced after a second, spluttering through
his iron mask. Inya flung
himself from his Tauntaun and dived to the edge of the platform, arm
outstretched to grab his companion’s hand. Beon dived next to him, using his
traveling cloak as a rope, casting it out so that the sinking unfortunate
could grab it. After a few throws and one or two misses, he finally managed
to haul him on board. The Ferrerean
turned to Beon, patting his shoulder. “Thank you,” and then dived for the
controls, helping the ferryman coax more speed from the ferry. “Oi, that’s my job, you can’t be doin’
that,” the old man protested, trying to bat the Ferrerean’s hands away, but
Inya remained firm. After a long
string of expletives Squiz finally found the breath to convey a message of
unpleasantness to the Ferrerean. “Soppin’ wet, I am, why couldn’t ye ‘ave
waited to cross, ye great dumb ass? Snobby bastard, that’s what ye are! I’ve
a good mind te teach ye manners,” and he began to unshoulder his rifle. Inya
was perplexed to say the least, but the racial differences were shelved when
the first blaster bolt hit. The ferryman
screamed his pain for all to hear as a shot entered his shoulder and exited
through his bicep. He twisted with agony, stumbling across the handrail up
the side of the ferry before another blast silenced his cries, thudding into
the small of his back. He fell to the deck, his unseeing eyes glaring at
Beon, who looked up and saw the blaster shot’s origin. Other figures
had reached the bank of the river now, many of them. The one at the front had
a horn, which he blew triumphantly as he danced and pointed at the motionless
figure of the ferryman. The others had blasters and explosives, which they
were raising and aiming at the ferry. Blue armour, leather and metal adorned
the figures. “Janites!” cried Beon, reaching for his
blaster. The masked figure grabbed him, though, and pulled him behind the
Tauntaun. The Tauntaun
whinnied and reared as over a dozen bolts swarmed over the ferry. They
pierced the platform, slicing into it as easily as they would have sliced
into Beon if the masked rider had not pulled him into cover. The Tauntaun
only had time for one more stifled cry before it slammed onto the deck with
holes covering its flank. Squiz dived behind the body of the Tauntaun, too,
but Inya, intent on the controls, was struck in the leg above the knee. He
gritted his teeth and fell down with a hiss. “Ezrus!” he called to the masked one. Beon could see
the Janite shooters preparing for another volley. He readied a blaster of his
own, keeping his head well down below the dead Tauntaun. Squiz crawled up
next to him, trying to unshoulder his own rifle. “Still bored?” Beon said to him, but
Squiz could find no humor in the question. Neither could Beon. The masked
rider, Ezrus, reached Inya and dragged him to the Tauntaun, trying to make it
to the carcass before another rain of bolts could descend upon them. Inya,
with enough strength left but little mobility, could only try to force
himself along with his arms. The roar of another volley heralded the arrival
of the energy bolts, which struck all around the deck. One pierced Inyas
cloak whilst another burnt the fabric of Ezrus’ tunic, barely wounding him.
They looked over the hole-riddled ferry in shock, amazed that they had not
been hit. Beon and Squiz
sprang up, then, firing almost blindly into the crowd of Janites. Their shots
found a single target that fell screaming into the water, two holes smoking
on his chest. “You idiot, I was going for that one!”
Beon snapped at the dwarf. He quickly re-set his sights. Squiz only
growled back, “Well, bloody well tell me ‘oo ye firin’ at next time!” The two
newcomers joined them behind the Tauntaun. The next few shots from the
attacking Janites were sparse and weakly aimed. No doubt our return of fire gave them something to think about,
Beon thought. “We’re not going anywhere and the Janos
shooters have our range,” said Inya to the group. He drew in his breath
quickly and sharply as he checked his wound, tenderly holding his leg, “All
they have to do is pull in the ferry’s beam and we’re theirs. We are
outnumbered.” “We’re no-ones!” Squiz bawled at the
Ferrerean, his patience worn thin, “Its obviously you they want so I don’t
think that they’re gonna bovver with us!” Beon was
shocked then disgusted by Squiz’s words. “We can’t let the Janites take them!” he
said with passion, “They’ll probably do us anyway. They’re like that.” Ezrus looked at
Beon, and Beon was concerned at the fact that he could not read an expression
behind the mask, or even in the voice. But Ezrus conveyed his message quite
clearly. “The Janites argument is not with you,
human, it does not require your attention. I advise you; jump off this ferry
and swim away now. It is not your problem.” “Well, ye made it our problem when ye went and jumped aboard this ferry!”
Squiz shouted, starting to raise himself up as his anger began to overwhelm
his sense. A blaster bolt slamming into the saddle of the dead Tauntaun made
him duck back down. “Break the beam,” Inya offered. “The
current should swing us to the other bank.” But Squiz was
not convinced at all. “Yeah, if ye wanna stick ye’re head out
as a target.” Beon was much
quicker to agree with the Ferrerean, thinking he should interject before
another argument started. “Its a good idea. It’ll be better if one
stabilizes the ferry; the other cuts the beam, yeah? Me and you,” he pointed
at Ezrus, “because he’s got a hole in his leg, and Squiz can cover us. He’s a
better shot than I am.” Another few
hits on the Tauntaun and on the ferry convinced them this was the best course
of action. Squiz re-loaded his rifle, whilst Inya did the same and Beon and
Ezrus prepared themselves to leap out from cover. The Janite’s shots were
random now, ruining any chance of performing the feat whilst they were
preparing another volley. Ezrus leaped
out without warning. He ran to the control yoke and grabbed hold of it,
pulling it hard and trying to keep the ferry from spinning out of control.
Beon ran to the forward part of the beam, his pack swinging and ready. At the same
time, Squiz and Inya put two energy bolts into the Janite ranks, killing one
and severely hindering another, which caused a lot of them to dive for cover.
Only a few shots landed on the deck and Squiz cried out as one connected with
his arm. Ezrus had stabilized the ferry. And so Beon cut
the beam with his swinging pack, the cloth of the bag bursting into flames as
it connected with the high-energy light, letting the ferry follow the gentle
current but also allowing it to swing to the opposite bank of the river. The
Ferrerean and the human took cover behind the Tauntaun once more, Beon
helping his dwarven friend. The last few
Janite shots landed weakly around the four huddled figures. After a few
moments, they had drifted out of range and were nudging the bank. The silence
between the dwarf and the new arrivals was annoying for Beon. He knew that
Ferrerean’s were disliked at the best of times... in fact, they were
basically downright hated, but considering their close escape from the
Janites he thought that even Squiz would have let that fact slip for now.
These newcomers needed their help and perhaps they were willing to pay
handsomely for that help. Couldn’t Squiz see a business opportunity when he
saw it? Damn his moods. Inya was
standing tenderly on his damaged leg, and Beon was amazed at his apparent
boost of dexterity. He concluded that it had something to do with the masked
one with the attitude, the way he sprinkled something over his wound, talking
to him in a strange fluting language. That language
annoyed him, too. Ever since they had got back on dry land and under the
trees, the two of them had heatedly conversed in their own tongue, arguing
over some point or other, sometimes glancing over in their direction. Squiz nudged
him. “Come on. Lets get a fire going and get
dried up. Then we can make some ground and camp before night.” Beon knew that Squiz wanted to do nothing more than split the newcomers’ heads open for causing him to be wounded. He could hardly blame him, they had, after all, dragged them into an affair, the facts of which they were obviously not prepared to divulge. He also knew that he had always heard that Ferrerean’s were aloof and snobbish, and he was now convinced this was true. “Do you think they need escorting to...
wherever? They may pay well,” Beon was changing the bandage on Squiz’s arm.
The dwarf snatched his arm away and continued to dress it himself. “Let ‘em go and do whatever they please,”
he complained, “they near got us killed, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let ‘em
try it twice.” Beon stood,
shaking his head at the dwarf’s stubbornness, and then started to look for
firewood. He walked near the two, who stopped their discussion and looked at
him warily. Beon cleared
his throat. “I’m going to get a fire started, and
then maybe we can have a bite and you can tell us your problem, maybe we can
help.” The masked one
answered. “We have no need of your help, thank you
all the same. We would have hired mercenaries far back on the trail if we had
required them. We must set out immediately. We are sorry for any trouble.” “We could travel together,” Beon offered,
ignoring the stifled groan of annoyance from Squiz behind him, “There’s
safety in numbers.” He was not going to let the chance of turning this
situation into profit slip by him. “Again no,” the masked one said, “we will
travel swifter on our own without... “ He looked over at the dwarf, “...
anything holding us up.” Beon nodded and
gave up on the credits. “Well, good luck. I’m glad we could be of
some help, at least.” Inya looked at
him and said. “Do you know Chancai?” “Yes, some,” Beon answered, “Why? Is that
your destination?” The Ferrerean
let the question pass him by. “Then perhaps
you may know the location of a man called Grabby Cap who resides there.” Beon shook his
head in thought. “No, can’t say I have. Sounds like a
Leogardian name, who is he?” “It is of no consequence,” the Ferrerean
replied, looking at his masked companion in consternation. They conversed in
their language before turning back to Beon, “Here,” said the masked one, “for
your services. I hope it will cover the trouble we have caused.” He held out a
small bag to Beon, and as he took it he was quite pleased to feel the weight.
“Thank you,” he began to say, but the two
travelers were already disappearing into the forest, making their way to
Chancai at quite a good pace considering Inya’s damaged leg. Beon walked
back over to Squiz, swinging the pouch and letting a broad grin cover his
face. “Turned out quite well after all,” he
said cheerfully, letting the pouch drop into Squiz’s lap. “Just get the bloody fire started,” Squiz
muttered, resisting the urge to grab Beons long hair and headbutt him back
across the river. Inya and Ezrus covered a lot of ground after leaving Beon and Squiz, and easily a dozen kilometers separated the two groups before Inya slowed his pace and put a hand on Ezrus’ shoulder to slow him up. They both bent
low, hands on knees but legs straight, panting their exertion to the ground.
Then Inya stood and arched his back. “He was the one,” he said. Ezrus looked at
him doubtfully. “No, I don’t think so. Grabby never said
anything about a companion accompanying the man. I think it was just
coincidence.” “Oh, and it was just coincidence that he helped us and it was just coincidence that he wanted to
accompany us further?” Ezrus turned
his masked face to look at Inya. “He wanted not to aid us out of the
goodness of his heart, but in the hope that he would receive payment. I saw
the way his eyes lit up when he received the pouch of credits. I’m surprised
at you for thinking otherwise. Now come on. I’m sure that Glann’s contact is
waiting for us.” Inya shrugged
and fell into step beside Ezrus. “I suppose that the human would have
recognized Grabby’s name when I mentioned it, but remember, Grabby probably
told him to keep his silence. Remember that this mission is to be kept from
all ears.” Ezrus shook his
head at Inya. “It was that kind of paranoia that had
only the three of us set out in the first place, and now your brother is
dead. If we don’t get this information to Glann he’ll never get his Janos
Jewel for whatever it is he needs to power. I suggest that you refrain from
any more speculation and concentrate on the road.” Inya frowned at
Ezrus. “It is in the nature of my race to be
cautious, but I’m sure that is something that you don’t understand. You’re
not a Ferrerean.” In silence,
they ran on far into the night. Glann steepled
his fingers and stared out of the huge window that presented him with a vista
of Amagad city. Small lights flashed and oscillated, and he focused on the
brightest light of the landing tower. Behind him,
Yullm cleared his throat. “The data disc supplied to us by the
Ferrerean and the... um... masked guy gives a definite location of the jewel
you need. And it’s a good few meters high.” Glann nodded. “The details are here for your review.” Glann allowed
the automated chair to turn him to face the information gatherer before him.
His eyes were narrowed and almost sparkling. “Leave it. Go.” Yullm did as he
was bid and left with more than a little enthusiasm. His meetings with Glann
always left him nervous and he was glad this assignment was over. As the doors
swung shut behind him, a cowled figure emerged from the corner. Carlonian
Feese looked at his employer through the all-concealing facemask he wore and
walked slowly to him. “You have the jewel you need,” he said. “And I have the Heed. Now all I have to do is power her up. One of the most
powerful starships ever built, able to destroy capital ships with a single
burst. Do you think that will make a tempting prize to what’s left of the
Empire?” Feese nodded.
Without being asked he approached the desk Glann was sat behind and picked up
the pad with the jewel’s location on it. “I’ll secure the jewel,” he said. “The Janos Executioners know that someone
has the location,” Glann said. “Make sure they look in the wrong place.” “Beon Odiss was there when the Janites
caught up with our couriers,” Feese said. “He killed some of them.” “Then we have our culprit when the jewel
goes missing,” Glann smiled, and turned back to view his city. “Bad luck, Beon,” Feese rasped, and headed for the door. Couriers of a Dangerous
Cargo 2000 short story by Jonathan Hicks Nine years after Episode IV – A New Hope Histories – Written by Jonathan Hicks, this tells of the
hapless smuggler Beon Odiss, nicknamed `Bad Luck’ by friends and colleagues. One of a number of stories to feature him,
including Unlucky
Charms and Test Drive, Beon has become
somewhat of a popular character in the Setnin Sector and the stories. Cast of Characters Bad Luck Beon Odiss Squiz Aiacken Inya Ezru Glann Cipple Carlonian Feese Yullm |