Worst Case Scenario 1999 short story
by Mark Newbold Eight years after Episode IV – A New Hope Goah Galletti
frowned and lowered his head, narrowing his glare and accentuating the sharp angles of his
face. His jet-black hair whispered about him
in the gentle breeze as he turned slowly away from his six adversaries who were stood in a
semi-circle before him. Goah took in the
scene with satisfaction. Outnumbered six-to-one and they still don’t
dare attack me. Cowardly. But wise. Jak Dresdon, the
largest of the six, maintained his glare at Galletti even as he felt his own
self-confidence seep away and the presence of his men edge back from his shoulders. This black-clad assassin had travelled to Ratchin
all the way from the centre of the Setnin Sector to sort out a minor dispute between one
of Glann Cipples local agents and a consortium consisting of operators from outside of the
sector. The squabble had been of little
importance – merely how much percentage would be taken from spice runs to nearby
sectors. But the fact that Cipple had seen
fit to send Goah Galletti, his best and most lethal assassin…well. It beggared belief. And made Dresdon
very nervous. Galletti
continued his slow motion, almost choreographed turn until he showed only his profile, and
the powerful rifle that hung from his shoulder by a thin strap. Dresdon swallowed and moved forward, never
breaking eye contact in case Galletti saw it as a sign of weakness. “As I said before Galletti, this is
none of your concern. Go back to Amagad and
tell Cipple that he has nothing to worry about.” Goah allowed a
sliver of a smile to flicker across his lips. “Glann Cipple is not a man who
concerns himself with worry. He’s far
too busy watching others squirm to allow himself that luxury.” Galletti twitched, making Dresdon flinch. “I suggest you re-think your message to
him.” Jak Dresdon
breathed deeply and opened his hands wide. “We’ve got nothing to hide
Galletti, you can see that for yourself. Tell
Cipple that his operations won’t be affected by what is being done here.” “He doesn’t believe
you…and neither do I.” Snarled
Galletti with contempt. Dresdon shook his
head. “Well, that’s a shame, but I
say it again. Local consortiums can make
their own deals and decide their own percentages – “ “Not when Glann Cipple is
involved!” Shouted Galletti with
venom, stopping Dresdon and his men in their tracks.
“Cipple demands absolute loyalty and I’m here to ensure that he gets
it.” The statement
hung in the air as the seven men eyed each other. They
stood on an open plain, roughly two kilometres away from the landing platform that bore
the significant weight of the Phoenix,
Galletti’s starship. While too far for
Galletti to run if the situation got out of hand, it was only a few seconds away if
Galletti decided to call his co-pilot Durne Selka for assistance. Galletti turned
to face Dresdon. “I’ll make it clear and simple. You have ten standard hours to re-negotiate a
deal with your associates or me, my ship and all of hell’s fury are going to come
raining down around your ears. And if that
happens,” He turned his back on Dresdon and began striding back to his ship. “There won’t be an operation to bother with.” Dresdon watched
him leave, motioning for his men to refrain from going for their weapons. He knew it would do them or their operation no
good. “I’ll take it from the look on
your face that it was less than a job well done?” Durne Selka
replaced the lid on the munitions box and dumped himself down heavily on the lid as Goah
slapped the hatch too. Goah breathed deeply
and nodded at Durne, shrugging his overcoat free from his shoulders and standing next to
the large Chinngardian. His hair was
plastered to his head, a result of the almost mist like rain that had been falling
incessantly for the past quarter of an hour. “Dresdon got the message. I just don’t think he’s going to take
heed of it.” “What makes you say that?” “Just a feeling.” Goah stared into the distance but remained silent
as Durne eyed him up. After a few seconds
Galletti snapped his head round and frowned at his co-pilot. “What the hell are you starring at?” “Nothing.” Said Durne defensively. “Nothing at all. I’m just not used to seeing you so keyed up,
that’s all.” “Keyed up? Keyed up?!”
Goah shouted. “You
haven’t seen me when I’m keyed up. And
you don’t want to either.” Galletti
grabbed his coat and stormed towards the cockpit, locking the door shut behind him. Durne blew out a
long, confused breath and slapped his hands on his thighs. “Assassins. They’re all the same.” The pale lights
of the dash winked silently at Goah as he slumped into the pilot’s chair and threw
his head back over the headrest. He remained
like that for a brief time, cursing himself for letting fly at Durne, and then adjusted
his position. What has gotten into me?
Why am I so angry all the time? Was I
always like this? Galletti twisted his
mouth into another frown. Is this why I have so few friends? Why Glann is always so eager to send me on
long-distance hits? Why don’t I have any
answers? He kicked out at
the panel by his feet, and the dent of metal made a satisfying sound. Growling beneath his breath he clenched his fists
and grabbed a small hunting knife he kept close to him in the cockpit. Twirling it in the light he gazed, trancelike at
the blade as the soft light played off it, down the ornately carved shaft to the end where
the hilt ended with a gnarled knob of root. He
breathed deeply again, an exasperated breath that left his body with a weary heave. He had no answers, no clue as to his decline of
personality. But he knew one thing. Someone was
going to pay. “So what are we going to do Jak? If Cipple has sent Galletti out here to sort
this out, then there’s no telling what he’s been ordered to do.” Dresdon shook
his head at his panicked companion and glanced through the window of their temporary
headquarters. It was raining significantly
now and the storm clouds were brewing. Much
like their situation. Dresdon frowned. “If Cipple sent Galletti here to
kill us then we’d all be dead by now. No,
he’s sending out a message. That he
isn’t happy when other operators cut deals in the Setnin Sector without his
knowledge. And one thing’s for sure
– he doesn’t know who this operator
is.” “None of us do.” Piped up another gunman. “That’s the problem. For all we know this could be a set up by Cipple
himself. You know his history with
traps.” Dresdon shook
his head vigorously. “Cipple doesn’t have to stoop
that low to catch a small concern like ours. No,
he knows that there is something big going down. That
this is just the tip of the iceberg. And
if he doesn’t exert himself soon, then he’s in danger of becoming
irrelevant.” “So where does that leave us? Galletti is on planet and we’re here debating
Cipple’s tactics?” The man shifted
in his seat. “I say we take Galletti out
and send a message of our own back to Amagad.” Dresdon shook
his large head again and placed his hands on his hips. “And that would solve what, exactly? We’re still here. The operation is still here. And Cipple is still orchestrating things from
Amagad City.” He paused for thought. “We need an alternative line of
defence…” Dresdon trailed off as his men looked uneasily at each other. “Like what?” Dresdon smiled
slowly as an idea de-misted in his mind. “Temptation.” Two hours had
passed when Goah emerged from the cockpit carrying a flim in one hand and an empty cup of
chav in the other. He walked quietly down the
spine of the ship to the engine area where he knew he’d find Durne tinkering with
some ship system or other, which was exactly what he found him doing. Standing in the doorway, Galletti waited for the
large Chinngardian to register his presence. “You’re blocking the
light.” Grumbled Durne as he stood from
the opened floor panel and grabbed a hydro-wrench from the worktop. “That’s because I’m in a
dark mood.” Replied Goah lightly. Durne turned to look at the black clad assassin,
wiping his gnarled hands on a cloth and grinning widely.
He moved past Goah into the main hold. “So Goah. What was the point of biting my head off back
there, huh? Did it solve anything?” “You know it didn’t. It never does.” “That’s right.” Durne eyed Goah up thoughtfully, this time without
receiving a blistering retort. Galletti
coolly maintained eye contact with his co-pilot, not saying a word. “What’s the problem Goah?” Goah sighed and
leaned against the doorframe, his shoulders sagging under some invisible weight neither of
them could see but both knew was there. “If I knew then I’d tell
you. I just don’t have any patience
these days…the slightest things annoy me, I get angry for no reason.” He looked sadly at the dull rubber-coated floor. “I’m not in control anymore and it
scares me.” He looked up at Durne, and
the Chinngardian was shocked at the look of hollow defeat in those dark brown eyes. “Something’s got to give.” “I won’t pretend to be an
expert on these things, but I do know this. You’ve
been at the top of your profession for over a decade now, with hardly a break or
vacation.” Goah grinned. “I’m not the vacation type. Trips to Luronsa IV are not for me.” “Well maybe they should be.” Durne tossed the oily rag he had been holding onto
the blast couch and squared up to his friend. “You
need a break from all of this. Some time to
yourself. Glann wouldn’t begrudge you
some freetime, we both know that. Book a
liner out to the Verlence Sector and see some of the sights. It’s a big galaxy. It’s not all death and destruction.” Goah shrugged
half-heartedly and smiled. “Maybe you’re right. I do push myself pretty hard. I pride myself on getting the work done, no matter
what the cost.” “There you go.” “And I will take a vacation…just as soon as this mess
on Ratchin is sorted out.” Durne Selka
smiled and patted Goah hard on the shoulder, a smile seeping across his face. “Can’t ask for more than that. Let’s get to it.” “So, this big plan. Gonna tell us what it is?” Dresdon shook
his head, smiling to himself in satisfaction as he secured the last clip on the box lid. What was contained within would keep most sentient
beings in good wine and high living for the rest of their lives – even a long lived
species like a Janite. And as Dresdon lifted
the box to chest height and levelled his stare at his companions he allowed himself
another smile. “If I told you then it wouldn’t
be a surprise, would it? No, Galletti will
find out in due time. And you’ll see
that every man has his price.” “You
think Goah Galletti has a price? You’re
losing it Jak.” Dresdon threw
the box onto the floor and in one fluid motion lashed out with a wrench-sized fist,
knocking his detractor onto his back. Dresdon
drooped to his knee, burying it into the mans chest.
The man groaned in pain as he felt the pressure threaten to snap a rib. “Listen up and listen good. Galletti will
take the bait, and we will extricate ourselves
from this situation. And when we do
we’ll become more valuable to our new employers than you realise.” He looked around at his team. “But we won’t do it if you don’t
have some faith. So start believing.” His men nodded
and murmured in quiet agreement as Dresdon stood, retrieving the box and opening the door. “I’m going to take this to
Galletti’s ship. He won’t expect
that. And when I return you’d better be
ready to scratch gravel. We’ll be off to
toast our new success on some sunny planet somewhere.” Dresdon closed
the door behind him and made his way from their headquarters through the rain towards the
plain and the Phoenix. His men crowded at the window and watched him walk
away. “Think we’d better elect
another leader?” “Sounds like a good way to pass the
time.” Durne spotted
him first, a slight haze on the horizon coalescing into a discernible image and eventually
a recognisable figure. Goah tightened his
grip on his rifle, stretching the leather of his gloves against the palm of his hand. Dresdon walked directly towards them, arms wrapped
around a large square box. His ignored the
heavy downpour and as he slowed down to greet them he smiled. Goah nodded once in greeting and stood still, as
did Durne. It continued to pour, heavier now
and the three waited in a triangle. Waiting
for the first man to make the first move. Dresdon
spoke first. “Have you thought about what I said
earlier? This can be resolved without any
more trouble.” Goah glanced
sideways at Durne who failed to suppress a smirk. Turning
slowly back to Dresdon he motioned to the box. “What’s in there? Nothing explosive I hope.” “Oh. Nothing like that Galletti. In fact, it’s my redundancy in case
you’ve decided to stick with your earlier statement….” “Which I have.” Jak Dresdon
shrugged, loosening some rainwater from his broad shoulders. “I know how tough it can be out on
the lanes Galletti. Sometimes you can trawl
about for years without the slightest bit of praise.
It gets me down – I’m sure it
gets to you too.” Galletti shook
his head. “I’m not in this for a pat on
the back. What’s your point?” “My point is that life is too short
to get an ulcer working your guts out for someone else to get rich quick. What’s the point, huh? Why not treat yourself to an easy charter every
now and then?” Dresdon lowered the box
to the sodden ground slowly and kneeled before it. He
spun it around so it faced Goah and Durne and began to release the clasps that held to box
shut. “Slowly Dresdon.” Warned Durne.
Jak complied. “Don’t sweat it Selka. What’s in here will make your trip
worthwhile.” The box opened
slowly on mini hydraulics, revealing inside sheet upon sheet of uncut Zelonian credit
bills and markers. Enough cash to float the
Bank of Aargau for a month. Dresdon smiled
slyly. “Now do you understand Galletti? There’s enough cash here to retire your
next ten generations of grandchildren on. And
it’s yours – if you and Selka leave Ratchin within the hour.” The words hung
in the wet air for what seemed like an eternity, and all the time Goah didn’t break
his stare from the box before him. Durne
could hardly believe what he was seeing. And
Dresdon held his false smile through the driving rain.
After a minute Goah blinked and levelled Dresdon with a drill-like stare. “So this operation you’ve got
going here is more than just a part-time concern then?” Dresdon’s
smile faltered, the rainwater trickling from his crooked lips into his dry mouth. “What do you mean Galletti?” “Well, any operation with reserves
enough to try and bribe me has got to have a stack of credits behind it. So where did it come from? And who’s the big boss?” Dresdon frowned
and motioned to the money, silently trying to figure out how the allure of such a massive
haul had failed to entice the black clad assassin.
Goah recognised the looks of confusion and returned his own cold smile. “Jak, if I was in this game for the
money then I’d have stayed with Jan Lomona and learned to be a real smuggler.”
He paused. “You don’t
honestly think that my motivation is credits…do you?” Dresdon shook
his head vigorously, shaking rain everywhere. Galletti smiled. “Good, because I’d be very
upset if you thought it was. My motivations
are purely personal. But they’re nothing to do with money.” Goah kicked the lid shut, and Dresdon flinched
back. “So you’d better have another
reason for me not to go back to Glann and tell him what’s going on down here.” Galletti furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, I’m waiting. Tell me what I want to hear.” His voice raised an octave, the volume rising. Durne shrugged
his shoulders and smiled weakly at Dresdon. “You’d better do as he says
Jak. Goah can be get real angry when
he’s riled up like this.” Goah spun around
and grabbed Durne by the lapels, shaking him roughly. “Shut it Selka! I’m through playing good cop bad cop!” “Let me go!” Yelled
Durne, lashing out and swatting Goahs hands away. Goah’s
eyes narrowed and he swung for his rifle. “You sonofa…” He got no more
out before the box flew up from the floor towards him, hitting him in the chest. Dresdon scrambled to his feet and sprinted off
through the driving rain, his feet slapping against the sodden surface. With a roar of frustration Goah brought his rifle
to bear and levelled it at Dresdon’s receding head.
Durne grabbed at the barrel as Goah prepared to fire. “For god’s sake no Goah!” “Get off! I can’t let Glann down!” Galletti shrugged himself free of Durne’s
grip and aimed again, the shadow of Dresdon almost swallowed by the incoming mist. He let fly with a volley and lowered the barrel. Galletti waited for the cry of frustration from
his prey, but it never came. He only heard
the thump and splash of the body as it hit the floor.
Calmly he returned the rifle to its holster under his jacket and wiped his eyes
free of water. Durne stared at Goah
incredulously and gazed at the floor. “I don’t believe you just did
that.” He raised his eyes to Goahs. “What the hell has happened to you?” Goah Galletti
pulled the collar of his trenchcoat close to him and stared off into the distance. “Like Dresdon said, life’s too
short to get an ulcer trying to work it all out.”
Worst Case Scenario 1999 short story
by Mark Newbold Eight years after Episode IV – A New Hope Histories – The first actual
Goah Galletti story written
by Mark Newbold, excluding his
role in Jan Lomona and
the Sirens of Amagad, this short
story shows the clone of the black-clad assassin nearing the end of his life…and his
sanity. Sent by Glann Cipple to investigate a
small racket near the borders of Setnin, Galletti sorts
the situation out, with the usual incendiary results. Cast of Characters Goah Galletti Jak Dresdon Durne Selka |