“Even if you are…affiliated, and this guy is one of yours,” Brawg was saying to Anglang, who was flashing some sort of badge, “you got a lot of nerve coming in here trying to get your merchandise back. Most of the cops here would lock you up for flashing that thing. You boys ain’t got much clout these days.”
Anglang’s voice was quiet and placating. It was the voice Kedpin used on an angry customer complaining about a defect. “Oh, this isn’t about merchandise, Officer. My employers have already written off any such loss as tribute to the tireless law enforcement officers of Canto Bight. My employers are not interested in recovering merchandise, but in…downsizing inefficient operatives.” Kedpin didn’t know what they were talking about, but the look Anglang flashed him was frightening.
Officer Brawg smiled a nasty smile, and he spoke about Kedpin as if Kedpin weren’t sitting right there. “Oh, I get it,” he said. “You want your boy back to spank him.”
Anglang Lehet just shrugged. “We are, of course, willing to provide appropriate recompense.”
“You know, my old man was a cop here in Canto Bight, too,” Officer Brawg said, heading toward Kedpin’s cell. What is happening here? Kedpin was afraid, but he tried not to show it.
“That right?” Anglang said.
With Anglang beside him, Brawg opened the cell. “Eighty years. The old man used to talk about how different it was when the Syndicate was here. How we took care of one another. How there was a pecking order.”
“Rules,” Anglang Lehet said, handing Officer Brawg a small velvet bag that clinked. Kedpin had the terrible sensation that he was being bought for slaughter.
“Exactly!” Brawg said, grabbing Kedpin roughly and shoving him toward Anglang Lehet. “Anyway, I only bopped him a few times. Little wimp passed right out. I didn’t even get ta break nuthin’.”
Anglang Lehet took hold of Kedpin ungently and guided him forcefully toward the CBPD exit.
Kedpin knew he wasn’t the fastest thinker in the galaxy, but even he was beginning to put together the pieces. “You…you’re a criminal, aren’t you, Anglang?”
The tall alien shrugged, his heavy black cloak shifting like a shadow. As they exited the building, he leaned down to speak into Kedpin’s earhole. “If you want to be technical about it, I’m a criminal who’s been planning all day to kill you,” he said quietly. At first Kedpin thought it was a joke. But he saw no mirth in Anglang’s jet-black eyes. “K-Kill me?” he heard himself say stupidly. Kedpin felt sick to his stomach. He stood there for a moment, suddenly overwhelmed by a horrible sense that there was no such thing as paradise and that everyone in the galaxy was a liar.
Then Anglang Lehet pushed him forward and together, they walked out of the jail into the warm Canto Bight night.
ANGLANG LEHET SHOULD HAVE BEEN riding in a shiny landspeeder. But his money was almost gone and he couldn’t afford to waste it on indulgences anymore, since there was no money coming from this botched job. In a fit of madness he’d spent his advance on springing some rube he barely knew. So he was walking from CBPD central booking on foot to a less savory corner of the city where he could find a medical droid to remove the detonator from Kedpin Shoklop. The tiny weapon was harmless now, but it was still worth a little something. Not much, but more than nothing, which is what Anglang had now.
He pushed Shoklop ahead of him with a little shove. The little man yelped and it was all Anglang could do not to pound him. This job was supposed to have paid a small fortune. Something damn near retirement money. Instead Anglang was stuck herding this idiot ahead of him and watching his back to make sure no dirty cops were following. All because Anglang’s brain had decided to go soft.
“Move!” he barked again at Shoklop. The sun was a mere sliver on the horizon now, and Canto Bight was lit by that painted purpling sky that lasted for only a few minutes each evening. They were nearly alone on the street among the dusty old half ruins. They’d been walking for half an hour and were finally nearing the chop shop Anglang was leading them to.
“Why are you so angry at me?” the little idiot asked, sniffling like a child. He had produced another handkerchief, from where Anglang didn’t know and didn’t want to. “What did I ever do to you?”
It was so pathetic Anglang almost felt bad. He reminded himself that this sniffling little fool had just stood strong for him against an alien cop five times his size. They turned down a long narrow alley. “It’s not you, little man. It’s what you’re part of. You’re just chump change. Nerf-herding lowball tourists like you are just a by-product of this city. It’s the rich scumbags and their overpriced drinks. It’s—”
“Lehet! Nice night fer a walk!” a coarse voice broke in.
Damn. Anglang was getting soft. Old. He’d been so distracted by being pissed off that he hadn’t noticed them.
Klatooinians. Maybe five of them who’d just poured out of an alley intersection, wearing Old City Boys colors. Here to break his limbs for botching their job. Maybe even here to kill him. How did they get word this fast? Each of them was wielding a thick, stout club or a set of spiked knuckles. Their leader—the one who had spoken—was a notorious brawler named Uk. She wore an eye patch and had a stun stick. Anglang was unarmed. It didn’t look good.
“Listen—” Anglang began, when Shoklop broke in, stepping between Anglang and his assailants!
“Nice? Why it’s a positively beautiful night! Are you friends of Anglang’s? I’m Kedpin Shoklop, but you can call me Ked!” All the wounded confusion of a moment ago was gone, and the little man was all extroverted good cheer.
Shoklop knew damn well the Klatooinians were there to hurt them, Anglang realized. He was trying to soothe them. In his own strangely brave little salesman’s way, he was trying to handle the situation. In answer, one of the Klatooinians slapped Shoklop and the big-eyed man began to whimper, hurt and shocked.
Anglang spoke to Shoklop but kept his eyes on the Old City Boys. “These beings aren’t my friends, little man. They are going to try to kill me and they are weighing whether it is worth killing you, a tourist, too. Get out of here and keep your mouth shut about what you’ve seen. Go. Now!”
Shoklop gave Anglang a long, pained look. Then he ran back up the alley the way they’d come. The little man just would have been in Anglang’s way anyway.
The Klatooinians snorted and chortled watching Shoklop shuffle away. Then Uk turned back to Anglang. “ ’Fore we get started, bosses wanted me ta ask ya: Why’s Brawg still alive, Lehet? You get scared? You don’t seem the type ta turn coward.”
The Old City Boys moved into position to surround him, their fists and weapons up.
Anglang turned his head slowly, trying to keep his eyes on all his enemies. Were there five? Six? Too many, regardless. If it’d been humans maybe, but Klatooinians…“Not scared,” he said, buying time.
Uk peered down her stun stick with her one good eye as if examining it for straightness. “Then what? Bosses really wanna know. Ya can’t just bail on a job like that, Lehet. There are rules to this thing.”
The stun stick! If he could get his hands on it, he could disable the field restraint safety and knock all these idiots out. If. Ah, well. Anglang tensed. “Screw the rules,” he said, without quite knowing why.
Everything exploded into movement.
Anglang hated Klatooinians. One punch from Anglang could floor most humanoids, but his assailants weighed one hundred kilos each and fought like rabid beasts.
Still, with a series of sweep kicks and a few throat punches he managed to take two of the dog-faced aliens out of the fight. The remaining four surrounded him, closing the circle tighter.
“You always were a tough guy,” Uk said. The stun stick sparked menacingly. If Anglang could just get his hands on it!
But Uk saw his plans in his eyes. “You want this?” she asked. “Here.” She jabbed Anglang.
Anglang tried to wrest the stun stick from Uk as she jabbed him, but the pain of the electricity coursed through his veins li
ke white fire. He screamed. Another jolt like that and he’d be out cold. Two more and he’d be dead.
It would have been nice to have had Cantonican cactus liqueur one last time, Anglang Lehet thought. He prepared to die.
KEDPIN SCUTTLED OUT OF THE alley, thanking the stars that he had escaped with his life. Then he heard the sounds of fighting behind him, and his relief was eclipsed by sudden, overwhelming shame. It didn’t make any sense. Anglang Lehet was an admitted criminal. A criminal who had framed him and planned to kill him. And besides, Kedpin was no fighter. Kedpin did everything he could to avoid ever being hit. And he cried when people hit him.
Kedpin wasn’t a fighter and this wasn’t his fight. Why should he feel shame? It was ridiculous. He kept walking, ignoring the guilty gnawing in his guts.
He was almost out of the long, narrow alley when he heard the violent crackling of electricity and Anglang Lehet’s scream.
Kedpin froze in his tracks. Whatever the big alien had been planning, when it had come down to it, Anglang Lehet had not let him die. How could Kedpin leave him like this?
Be bold in the sale and you’ll surely prevail; Kedpin had written that one decades ago, but he didn’t think he’d ever quite lived it.
Summoning something within himself that he couldn’t quite name, Kedpin Shoklop turned around and raced back into the alley.
—
Anglang Lehet was preparing to die when a bright pink ball of flesh came hurtling at the Old City Boys from behind, screaming something about payback and vaporator sales. Shoklop!
Shoklop’s soft little form was no match for the Klatooinians, of course—he merely crashed off them, having managed only to knock himself down. But it was all the help Anglang needed. While the Old City Boys were distracted, Anglang grabbed onto the stun stick that had just been used on him and bodychecked Uk as hard as he could. It normally would have been a fool’s move, but she was surprised enough that it worked. He wrested the stun stick from her grasp and backed up three steps.
Anglang smashed the capacity safety module on the end of the stun stick, pointed it toward the Klatooinians, and pressed the activator button.
The stunfield pulse shot out in a fan shape, a visible wave of energy hitting all three remaining Klatooinians and instantly knocking them flat. The weapon sparked and grew hot, and Anglang dropped it. The smell of burnt ozone filled the air.
For a moment Anglang just stood there in shock, as immobile as the comatose Klatooinians. Then Kedpin Shoklop’s cries roused him. The little pink alien was trapped under one of the Old City Boys, who’d apparently staggered back from the stun stick blast and collapsed on top of him.
Anglang rolled the dog-faced creature off his unlikely rescuer. Anglang was impressed in spite of himself. Shoklop couldn’t fight worth a damn, of course, but he’d come back and tried to, which showed more grit than Anglang had thought the little pink fool capable of. And he just might have saved Anglang’s life. “Not bad, little man,” he said. “Not bad.”
“Well, when I started out, VaporTech used to send me to sell vaporators door-to-door in the Grime Quarter. I guess I learned a thing or two about fighting!”
Anglang bent over Uk and her henchbeings, rifling through their pockets. All told, enough to get by for a week or so. Not much. But not much was always better than nothing.
Shoklop’s too-loud voice broke in on his thoughts. “Are you stealing from these beings?”
Anglang shrugged. “It’s not stealing. They tried to kill us. It’s how this works. Rules.”
Anglang looked at Shoklop. “As a matter of fact, put out your hand, little man.” He put a few slivers of precious metal into Shoklop’s pink, soft palm. “It’s not much, but you helped knock heads, so some of it’s yours. Maybe enough to replace some of the things you lost in your luggage.”
Anglang noted with surprise that Shoklop didn’t protest or refuse. He simply closed his hand around the money. “Forget my luggage,” the little man said. “Let’s go to the races.”
KEDPIN SHOKLOP STOOD IN THE Standard Class stands of the Canto Bight racetrack, taking in the scents and sounds of a lifelong dream fulfilled. He was about to watch a live fathier race on Canto Bight! Unlike the spacious, well-appointed Prestige Class viewing boxes that Anglang Lehet had pointed out resentfully, the Standard Class stands were crowded and less than pristine. Beings pressed in on every side, shouting out numbers and fathier names. But as they’d moved through the city together, Kedpin had noticed that other beings tended to make way for Anglang Lehet. The racetrack had been no exception. They had a splendid view of the track.
Kedpin had seen fathiers on the holovids, of course, but being this close to them was something different entirely. The power and grace with which they moved, the noise they made, the stinky-spicy smell of them as they sauntered past and lined up for the start of the race—the holovids couldn’t capture any of this, Kedpin realized. He could almost reach out and touch one of the beasts. Perhaps he’d get a chance to. This was no holovid; he was here. After years and years of dreaming, after the strangest and hardest and maybe best day of his long life, Kedpin Shoklop was here, about to watch a real live fathier race in Canto Bight.
At Anglang’s advice, Kedpin’s money was on a veteran fathier a little past his prime. The beast’s name was Kessel Runner.
The starting signal fired, and the fathiers launched into beautiful motion. Kedpin felt his pulses pounding uncontrollably as he watched the fathiers run. Though Anglang Lehet hadn’t bet on the race himself, he was cheering loudly—shouting in that booming baritone—for Kessel Runner, Kedpin’s fathier. Kedpin thought himself as happy in this moment as he’d ever been in his life.
The announcer’s voice rang out over the speaker system, almost too fast for Kedpin to follow.
“AND THEY’RE INTO THE HOMESTRETCH! KESSEL RUNNER IN THIRD, MYNOCK MINUTE JUST AHEAD IN SECOND, AND LEADING THE PACK IS SHIFTING SANDS!”
“Come on! Come onnnnnn you stinker! Put on the juice!” Kedpin heard himself shouting. Anglang Lehet turned briefly from the race to look at Kedpin, and Kedpin saw that the big man was smiling.
“SHIFTING SANDS LEADS, BUT KESSEL RUNNER HAS JUST PASSED MYNOCK MINUTE AND IS COMING UP FAST! BY THE STARS, FOLKS, KESSEL RUNNER AND SHIFTING SANDS ARE NOW NECK-AND-NECK! THIS IS GOING TO BE A CLOSE ONE…”
Kedpin Shoklop held his breath until it felt as if he’d forgotten how to breathe.
“AND IIIIIIIIIT’S…KESSEL RUNNER BY A NOSE, FOLKS! WHAT A RACE!”
Kedpin Shoklop slowly released the breath he’d been holding. His three hearts hammered in his chest. He felt dazed and thought he might fall over, until Anglang Lehet bent down, grabbed him by his shoulders, and bellowed in his face.
“You won, little man! You won!”
“W-won?” Kedpin repeated stupidly. Then it washed over him. It was the mini jackpot! A year of earnings! “I won! I won! I won!” Kedpin was not much of a dancer, but he began to do a little dance.
“Well blast me, you little son of a Jawa, you sure did. Talk about beginner’s luck!” Anglang clapped him on the back, then laughed, a sound like low thunder.
“Don’t worry, no implants this time!”
Kedpin laughed. This must be what it’s like to have a friend. The thought came unbidden, out of nowhere, and it nearly stopped Kedpin’s hearts. Could a being Kedpin had only known for hours, a being who had planned to kill him, be a friend? Kedpin realized he didn’t know much about friends. Work had always mattered more.
“Oh! I have to celebrate! That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Anglang, will you join me? Please?”
Anglang Lehet looked at him for a long moment. Kedpin recognized the look. It was the same one many of his clients wore when deciding on whether to buy a vaporator. “Why not?” Anglang Lehet said finally. “A block away from here, there’s a bar where the rich idiots go to celebrate. Not my usual type of place, but then this hasn’t been a usual type of night.”
Anglang Lehet led
Kedpin down the avenue toward a tall building with pristine and exotic vegetation imported from all over the galaxy. Normally, this façade of Ubialla Gheal’s nightclub was lit with tall beacons that extended high into the night sky. Instead, the club was dark, quiet, and the swinging doors stood closed and unattended. “Odd,” Anglang remarked.
“Something wrong?” asked Kedpin. The little man craned his neck trying to see the top of the darkened nightclub.
“Ubialla must be hosting a private affair.”
Anglang considered knocking, then paused. Turning, he gestured for Kedpin to follow him. “The nice thing about Canto Bight,” Anglang said with a smile, “there’s always another place to get a drink.”
The façade of the Blue Wall was not brick or metal or plasteel but simply a screenfield of pale-blue energy. Kedpin realized it kept insects out and cool air in. As Kedpin stepped through, he felt…cleaner. A dermal exfoliation field! The sensation was one of the most pleasant things Kedpin had ever experienced.
“Wow, is this place ever fancy!” he said to Anglang after taking a deep breath. “Is it very expensive?”
“It is obscenely expensive. And you’re buying,” Anglang Lehet said in that impossibly deep voice. Kedpin supposed he didn’t mind buying a drink for a…friend? A friend.
Kedpin looked around at the other patrons. They looked like the sorts who’d been lounging in the Most Eminent Class stands at the racetrack. Ever since he’d arrived in Canto Bight, Kedpin had felt as if he were being stared at and disapproved of, but as he and Anglang entered the Blue Wall, he felt more truly out of place than he had since landing. “I thought you said you hated these overpriced bars,” Kedpin said.
The towering alien shrugged. “They have a drink here made from Cantonican cactus that you can’t get anywhere else in the galaxy,” Anglang said. “This might be my last chance to taste it.” Kedpin didn’t know what Anglang meant by that, but it sounded sad and he felt bad for his new friend.
Still, as a human woman in a rippling iridescent gown led Kedpin and Anglang Lehet to a comfortable little table and filled two glittering glasses with Cantonican cactus liqueur, it was hard to feel too bad. Kedpin removed the tiny black velvet bag he’d been given at the racetrack from around his neck. He opened it gingerly and carefully poured out the dozen or so shards of precious metal that were his winnings onto the table. A year’s worth of his salary. A year’s worth of his salary sparkling there beside a little bowl of fried seeds. Kedpin had sold vaporators that cost many times that amount, of course, but that was credit wands and computer accounts. This much money-metal in one place just looked so different.
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