Loic Monerat & The Lizard Brain Spice Smuggling Syndicate - Chris Herron, Greg Provan (red seas under red skies txt) 📗

the smuggler…’ With terrifying speed, the Trandoshan dashed forward, his smooth black claws tearing the garish robes off the Chiss and slamming him hard against the bulkhead. Maax’s feet dangled helplessly as he desperately fought for purchase against Bossk’s iron grip.

 

‘Enough of your talk! I am tired of your pretty words!’ Bossk snapped his fangs a hair’s breadth from Maax’s nose then tossed him onto the floor. ‘Make preparations for landing. And see that your pet is silenced.’ The Trandoshan stormed through to the cockpit.

 

Maax got to his feet rubbing his throat thoughtfully. Loic waited for him to regain his composure. The Chiss approached the bars, his voice a hoarse whisper, ‘looks like our strategy will need to be modified as we go.’ Loic could see a deep anger boiling behind his red eyes, and no little resentment. Loic understood, the Chiss was dutybound to try and save him, but he did not have to like it, and he did not have to condone it.

 

‘What’s our play?’ Loic asked fearfully.

 

‘I had hoped to convince our friend to stay on the damn ship. As far as he would be aware, I would drop you off and return to give him the signal. Then he would detonate his own ship with him on it. But he insists on accompanying us. I don’t think he trusts me.’

‘Maybe he just doesn’t know you as well as I do.’

 

Ignoring the sally, Maax said, ‘now we take you to Okkra, once Bossk leaves the palace I will spring you. We will not have much time I fear, but I will be an honoured guest and will be able to move freely. With the revelry and celebrations going on hopefully it should not be too difficult.’

 

 

‘What if Okkra decides to kill me right away, or I’m not taken to a cell and thrown into a pit instead?’ Loic offered tremulously.

 

‘Then you die, but that is where I come in, it will be my job to keep you alive. If Okkra wants to make a show of you there and then I will need to fabricate an excuse as to why you should be kept alive for questioning.’

 

‘It’s not much of plan!’

 

‘It’s the best one we’ve got. And I have been playing this game longer than you know. Bossk has scuppered…’ The noise of the engines slowing broke the Chiss’ train of thought, they were about to land.

Loic had never expected to return to Florrum, he thought, ruefully. An arid desert planet, full of scavengers and thieves. Whoever the original inhabitants once were they had long ago been chased away or murdered by pirates and criminals who were fleeing the law. It was a perfect nest for Okkra, it was situated far enough out on the rim to avoid too much unwanted attention from the authorities who travelled regularly through the common galactic-hyperspace circuits.

 

Last time Loic was here he had barely gotten out alive. Part of him was surprised to hear Okkra was lavishing himself with a birthday celebration on Florrum; the Hutt lord had become increasingly more reclusive and paranoid. But a show of strength – especially after Loic’s failed assassination attempt – would quell any talk of weakness. For Hutt lords who ruled through fear, it was crucial to maintain a façade of might, would-be usurpers grew like weeds.

 

Maax had fitted him with chains which attached to the binders at both his ankles and wrists. Half his face was now covered in a rusty, metallic mask that bit maddeningly into his skin, making speech impossible and his breathing laboured. The crude mask stank, who, or what, had been the previous owner Loic could only guess. ‘It’s better this than Bossk taking your tongue,’ Maax had insisted. The cargo doors opened and Bossk gestured for them to descend the ramp.

 

The hangar Bossk had secured was not empty. There was a small craft of a triangular design Loic had never encountered. A door slid open from its side and out stepped another Trandoshan in black body armour. Bossk approached the newcomer and they spoke briefly in their garbled language. Maax’s eyes met Loic’s for a swift glance, Loic thought he saw shock and disconcertion in that gaze.

 

The mysterious Trandoshan was even larger than Bossk, though he was blind in one eye, the bulging orb the colour of curdled milk. That side of his reptilian face was blackened by burn marks and horribly scarred. He, like Bossk, was carrying enough firepower to hold off an entire battery of stormtroopers. What the hell is Bossk up to? Bossk called to them, ‘we have transport outside.’ And so, they left the hangar, into a steaming sandcruiser driven by a sour-faced Snivvian. The battle-scarred Trandoshan remained behind.

 

Loic sat upfront, next to the diminutive pig-faced Snivvian, who studiously ignored him. Maax and Bossk sat side-by-side in the backseat. It took a while to negotiate their way through the bustling lawless township. Pirates and mercenaries from every lowborn-race ever discovered went about their nefarious business. Drunkenness and brawling took place at every turn, half-clothed children played in the Bantha dung with the dogs, while behind, tawdry, veil-painted whores plied their trade in their dingy booths. Once out in the open desert the Snivvian increased the speed. ‘How long to the palace?’ Maax shouted over the din of the engine.

 

‘Not far,’ the Snivvian grunted.

Loic had to screw up his eyes for protection against the displaced red sand. It was late in the day and the sun was at its weakest, though it beat down mercilessly on Loic’s bald bonce, frazzling his skin. There was nothing to see but oceans of sand dunes, and a harsh, cloudless sky. The planet’s weighty gravity was not best-suited to humans, Loic’s stomach churned. ‘I didn’t know you were expecting a guest at our landing.’ He heard Maax quiz the Trandoshan.

 

‘Another job,’ was the curt reply. Loic’s accursed mask was worrying his skin. He tried to bring his face towards his cuffed hands to adjust it. Bossk demanded him to ‘be still’ in his customary beastly fashion. How the hell did it all come to this? Thought Loic wretchedly.

 

The Snivvian was true to his word, they were soon approaching their destination. What began as an inconsequential speck on the horizon, soon grew into an enormous sun-streaked mesa. Long ago, before the Hutts seized ownership, some ancient race had hewn deep into the rock itself, it may have served as their base or temple, now it was a holiday home for Okkra and his murderous syndicate.

 

Loic let his eyes run up the steep, jagged lines of the escarpment towards the flat top of the isolated butte where a ship blasted off almost vertically, the engines leaving a fleeting tail of smoke and fire. It would be the perfect place for Okkra to land, not too far to slither. There were likely many ships stationed up there, Okkra’s trusted would not be required to land miles away in the township. Perhaps that was where he could find means of escape. If he ever got that far.

 

The sandcruiser skirted the edges of a winding crevasse, its true depth hidden by perpetual shadow. Loic had the curious urge to plumb those depths and leap from the cruiser into the chasm, but the cruiser coming to a halt dispelled his macabre fancy. A band of fearsome, lupine-faced Shistavanen stood by waiting for them to alight, they openly bared their canine teeth as ropey saliva collected on their matted black fur. Okkra had certainly beefed up his security, few races were more spine-chillingly intimidating. Bossk was unfazed. The bounty hunter leaped from the backseat towards them as Maax pulled Loic from the cruiser.

 

‘No weapons inside.’ The common tongue clearly a great effort to verbalise. The Shistavanen’s clawed hands twitched at his side, he was unarmed, though the bevy behind him all had blasters and rifles.

 

‘Weapons inside,’ Bossk gurgled, taking a step forward.

 

Loic watched with grim curiosity as the inevitable happened. The Shistavanen reacted with a flash of movement, daggerlike claws glinting in the final lament of the dying sunlight. Before the blow could land Bossk drove the butt of his rifle over its snout. It fell to the ground with a growl, and when it moved to pounce once more, Bossk brought his arm down like a guillotine on its collar bone.

 

The Shistavanen yelped piteously and curled its arms to protect its feral face. The rest of the posse had their weapons trained on Bossk, but with their leader whining on the red sand, they eyed one another hesitantly. They had obviously been sent to receive Bossk – and they would be all-too-aware of his lethal reputation –something had to give. Had Okkra really been naïve enough to expect Bossk to give over his weapons? It was probably worth a try, Loic mused. Maax capitalised on the indecision.

 

‘We are here, as esteemed guests, on most-pressing business, concerning Okkra and Okkra alone. It would be an insult to ask any Trandoshan to give up his arms, more-so one such as Bossk. Accompany us if you must, but I assure my friend here has no ill intent.’ His hypnotic voice smooth and mellifluous was never raised.

 

‘Come with us,’ one of the beastmen spat angrily.

 

‘You’re not much of a negotiator, are you?’ Maax asked Bossk quietly. Loic stepped forward, if only to avoid Bossk manhandling him. The Shistavanen flanked them as they started towards the great rune-etched ramp that led into the hollowed mesa. Loic stole a last regretful glance over the vast chasm to the setting sun, which spilled its orange guts over the vista as though it had been punctured. It was time to face his fate.

Up on a blustery buff, some distance away, the black-scaled, dark-armoured, battlescarred-Trandoshan, Krang, lay supine at the crest of a pointed rock crag. He peered down the telescopic scope of his E11s sniper rifle with his one good eye. Before him, the arid desertland stretched out infinitely; the sun let forth one last perishing plasma burst and then dipped behind the horizon leaving a crimson-fingered sky in its wake which would soon plunge to black.

 

Across the acid flats and sulphuric geysers of this infertile planet blew a hot zephyr, and the coldblooded lizard absorbed it and relished it. He knew it would get very cold in the desert after sundown, but he had his heatvest attached, below his onyx armour with the white cloak and gilded edges, the vest served to keep his temperature balanced but was also stabproof and relatively-blasterproof.

 

He had made his way to Okkra’s in a separate transport from Loic and co. and now he merely watched, awaiting communication from his only nephew, Bossk. Krang would have had more nephews and nieces, but Bossk had eaten all his siblings upon hatching from their eggs. Krang smiled at the touching memory.

 

A movement to his left, the unmistakeable undulating of a sidewinder as it made its way across the dunes. Krang’s long limb flashed out with alarming alacrity and seized the serpent around the base of the neck, just behind the triangular, hooded head. Using one of his sharp claws he slit the beast down its long black and white-striped belly, and in one quick yank he removed its entire skin and tossed it aside.

 

A smattering of blood soaked into the golden sand and left a dark patch. He sat back again and chewed and sucked thoughtfully on his newly-acquired snack. He watched with his working eye as another ship folded its wings and floated down to the plateau atop Okkra’s current residence, landing softly.

 

Licking the snakeblood from his lips with a darting blue tongue, he hefted his huge rifle again and his beady yellow eye looked through the scope. The white ship looked Chiss in design - this was confirmed when he saw a small group of the cobalt-skinned humanoids emerge from it, to be greeted by a droid, and enter the Hutt’s domain through the roof entrance. More revellers for the celebrations no doubt, ships had been coming