Taking Care of Their Own2001 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 Own2001 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 ThreeSqueal Six Gowsa Jomobol Pocock Croof Frood Glann Cipple Melm Grin Boba Dallagra Trace Dallagra Grabby Cap Carlonian Feese Ziggy Teflon Postre |