[Short Stories] - [Gamer] - Fair Prey (Daniel Wallace), Star Wars - Books And Short Stories
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Star WarsGamer MagazineN 1Fair Preyby Daniel Wallace###############################################################################"Six meters of muscle, teeth, and venom."Tyro Viveca, the galaxy's wealthiest Krish, raised his glass and took a long sip of dun brandy."Hyperfast reflexes and a vicious streak as wide as the Cron Drift. I'd say you're looking at the most efficient predator in history."He loosed a razor-edged smile at his visitor."My taxidermist just stuffed it this morning."The alien's guest politely stepped forward and leaned in to examine the specimen: a gray-green tube of flesh, looking like the repulsive offspring of a serpent and an eel, coiled on a polished wooden base. Its head, frozen in mid-strike, was a mass of glistening white spikes."Impressive," the man said, raising his eyebrows quizzically as he turned back toward his beaming host."Aren't Florn lamproids sentient?""Unquestionably. Though they lack the culture and art you and I take for granted, they have the brains to solve fiendishly complex puzzles. That's what makes them such a smashing hunt."Viveca strolled to the side table and removed the crystal stopper from a heavy cut-glass decanter."More brandy?"The visitor shook him off with a wave of his hand and settled back into an armchair with a squeak of leather and a sigh of cushioning. His bright eyes scanned his surroundings for the dozenth time. The room was an enclosed octagon with pillars at the corners, dark walls trimmed with gold. A pair of holographic lamps provided dim illumination, but he could clearly make out the severed heads of a hundred sundry creatures, each mounted on a varnished plaque bearing the unlucky beast's species, weight, planetof origin, and date of death. Seven niches held full-sized predators arrayed in fearsome poses; the eighth held Viveca's rarest firearms and his collection of antique water pipes.The entire room stank of tabac and desiccated hides."That's the male, you know."Viveca held his half-filled glass on the balls of his scaled fingers, swirling the liquid lazily. His guest looked up questioningly."The lamproid," Viveca explained. "I killed and mounted the male. I sedated and captured his mate, and have her locked on the grounds for a later hunt. Perhaps you'd care to join me.""Perhaps," the visitor answered, resting both booted feet on a bantha-Ieg ottoman. "But I believe we have business to take care of first.""Indeed," remarked the paunchy Krish. "I seldom receive uninvited callers, because most beings realize my time is of immense value. You claim to have something to show me.It had better be worth it.""Don't worry," assured conman Cecil Noone, sliding a ribbed metalbox out from beside his chair and flashing the most charming grin in his arsenal."You won't be disappointed."The skies of Kabal opened up for the third time that morning. Kels Turkhorn snarled and resisted the urge to sprint for the awning of the nearest merchant tent. The locals took the sudden cloudbursts in stride and Kels didn't want to give off an outsider's vibe. Fat raindrops splashed on her nose, matted her whitish hair, and trickled down the back of her neck.The busy marketplace carried the hot scent of sweat and the salty tang of the coastal breeze. Mindful of the unfamiliar bodies in close proximity, Kels clutched her supply bag with both hands. Even a professional pickpocket could sometimes get taken to the cleaners.The drenched bazaar was one of the few public attractions in Palisade, a small coastal community on Kabal's largest equatorial island. Less than a year ago the planet had been disciplined by a wing of Imperial TIE bombers for declaring its neutrality in the Galactic Civil War. But the damage had been confined to Kabal's capital city, half a hemisphere away. The residents of Palisade continued to lead quiet, industrious lives centered on fishing and a modest tourist trade.A burst of loud, mocking laughter caught Kels' attention.Farther down the boulevard sat another trader's stall, this one with a dirty gray awning instead of the striped pink and white ones that draped the bazaar in incongruous gaiety.Starship parts, dead appliances, plastic sandals, and other miscellaneous junk lay piled on the stall's front display table. The proprietor, a female Squib with grease-stained fur and one clipped ear, was leaning out of the booth and shaking her fist menacingly."This new wire, you say?" screeched the Squib. "Not likely, I say! This junk!"She tossed a small coil of golden wire back to her customer and crossed her arms in smug satisfaction."You barter with that? You crazy!"Kels saw the target of the Squib's abuse and closed her eyes in resigned pain."Dawson," she muttered, and moved quickly through the crowed to her compatriot's rescue.Dawson stood barely a head taller than the diminutive Squib. A Tynnan, his aquatic mammalian ancestry was evident in his webbed paws and sleek brown pelt. Dawson tried to say something but was cut off with a fresh gush of invective."That junk!" the Squib chittered. "You junk! You ugly face! You teeth look like two big deckplates!"Two tall, red-maned aliens who were lingering nearby to watch the exchange roared with laughter and looked at the Tynnan to see if the taunts would spark a reaction.Kels came alongside Dawson and placed one hand on his shoulder.He peered up at her through the lenses of his ocular enhancer."Kels!" he cried in welcome."Just handling a delicate bit of negotiating.""Right," she said dubiously, eyeing the twenty-centimeter white plastic sphere balanced in Dawson's right palm. "What kind of equipment is that?""You ever hear of a Quay?" he asked."It's a novelty item. A 'preprogrammed prognosticator.' You ask it a question, and it spits out one of several stored answers."Dawson was animated, visibly excited about his discovery.Raindrops tumbled from his quivering whiskers."I've counted three already.""It's a toy?" Kels snickered, disgusted. "You're haggling for that little thing?""Little, yeah!" cackled the Squib. "Size of you brain!"The two tall aliens laughed again, shaking their shaggy manes and dousing the vicinity with spray.Kels turned to the Squib, annoyed."You always treat your customers this way?" she snapped."Customer? Hah! News to me. You no buyin', you no customer."The Squib grinned up at her onlookers who responded with appreciative guffaws."Let me see that," Kels told Dawson.She took the sphere from the Tynnan's paws and shook it."THE SPIRITS SAY YES," boomed the Quay.Kels took two steps backward as if frightened, bringing her to the far end of the display table."It's stupid," whined Kels petulantly, gripping the Quay in both hands and thrusting it away from her body as if it were a poison-ous snake."I don't want it." She suddenly threw the Quay up in the air, a steep, high arc. The others' eyes looked skyward to follow its path. As Kels brought her arms down, she closed each hand around a power coupling and lifted them from a stack on the table. By the time the toy landed in the Squib's paws, the couplings were tucked away in Kels' waistband sash."You done it now!" yelled the Squib, as Kels spun on her heel and walked away."Broke for sure! You clumsy!" The Squib glared at Dawson, baring her teeth threateningly, then looked down at the Quay."You broke?" she asked, shaking the toy."MY REPLY IS NO."The Squib, pleased with her joke, looked up at the tall aliens who threw back their heads and howled as if they'd just witnessed the funniest thing in the galaxy. Dawson excused himself and trotted after Kels."Wait up!" he shouted, struggling to catch her on his squat legs. She looked back and slowed her pace. Dawson came alongside, splashing through a puddle and ejecting a spray of mud flecks. Kels looked away from the misty coastline toward a distant green swelling of land at the island's interior."Wonder if Noone's having any luck?"Recently, Noone, Kels, Dawson, and the Sluissi cyborg Sonax had finally scored in their career as thieves, nabbing a priceless Hapan Gun of Command. In the process, they'd double-crossed their former Hutt employer, killed a Bimm crimelord, and added insult to injury by stealing the late Bimm's private luxury yacht. Noone, their leader, had urged his employees to be patient. Once the sale of the gun netted them a fortune, they'd never again have to worry about crime bosses with burning vendettas. But weeks later they were still waiting, and patience was in short supply.The meeting with the Rebel Alliance had been a joke. Despite the Rebels' rumored victory at an Outer Rim bolthole called Yavin, the self-righteous flagwavers didn't have two scrip coins to rub together. The fresh-faced Alliance agent had offered less than a tenth of Noone's asking price.The Empire was even worse. Sonax despised the Imperials from personal experience, so the others had had to assure her they were merely arranging a rendezvous with a local criminal syndicate. Meanwhile, Noone slipped out to negotiate with the Imperial consul-general of Kothlis. But Consul-General Halsek had tried a double-cross of his own, and they'd blasted out of port just ahead of 24 stormtroopers and a legion of planetary militia.Which is why they'd ended up here, in Palisade. The modest island was dominated by the sprawling estate of Tyro Viveca, a hulking Krish business baron with a legendary reputation for eccentricities. More importantly, he had a passion for sport hunting, and in the past had dropped obscene sums for rare, antique, or cutting-edge weaponry. Now t...
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