An Easy Life1999 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 it’s 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 |