Good Intentions

“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.”

This should be a simple spice run. So why was he nervous? He’d done this a thousand times yet his heart was pounding as if this was his first run.

“What’s wrong kid?” Holt firmly grasps Dal’s shoulder.

Dal continued to stare out into the distance of the hyperspace lane as if he was stuck in a trance. He took a few moments before snapping back to reality.

“Oh you know me Holt, forever the worrier. Can’t help but feel like this is a trap.” Dal leaned back in his chair. Holt leaned on Dal’s chair and let out a deep sigh.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. We haven’t had a job go this smoothly in years. Things don’t add up that’s for sure. We still have a couple hours before we hit the cantina, how about you get some shut eye. I can’t have you saving my bacon if you aren’t one-hundred percent.” Holt playfully slapped the back of Dal’s seat.

“Yeah, alright.” Dal got up from his seat and started heading for his bunk.

“I’ll let you know when we jump out of hyperspace.” Holt sat in the pilot's chair and opened his favorite book.

Dal entered his bedroom, small, like a closet. Enough room for his stiff bed and a run down bedside table. He closed the door behind him and paced around his tiny space. Their destination was Grilia 74, a moon planet on the edge of the galaxy. Nice and hidden. The home of gangsters and smugglers alike. Dal ran his hands through his hair out of anxiousness. He stood over his withered nightstand, he removed his plasma pistol from his person and placed it on the nightstand. He dragged his feet to his bed and flopped his drained and bruised body under the covers.

“Off.” He commanded his light, and as he commanded the room became pitch black.

“Just a few hours” he thought as he slipped out of consciousness.

Murdok sat at his bar and sipped on his whiskey. He ruled the undercity with an iron fist. Word on the street was that they called him Murdok the terrible. He laughed to himself.

“The Terrible.” He said to himself. He thought himself more of a necessary evil. Thanks to him the whole city ran like a squeaky machine. Not a well oiled one because there would always be a few loose nuts and bolts that had to be beaten into place but there were no gang wars, no killers, no resistance. There was only Murdok.

Murdok waved the bartender over.

“What can I get for you boss? Another whiskey?” The bartender asked.

“Can you get me Malek?” Murdok responded with half a smirk as he put a ten credit tip on the counter. The bartender nodded his head and quickly pocketed the credits. The bartender made his way towards his bar well and pushed a button to signal someone to send Malek into the room.

After a short 2 minutes Malek slammed through the entrance door drawing the attention of patrons and bar staff alike.

“Yes.. Hi. Uh, hello!” He babbled out as he straightened himself up. Malek nervously walked up to Murdok and sat on the chair next to him. Murdok took a sip of his drink and let out a sigh of disappointment.

“Where is my spice, Malek?” Murdok’s grip on his glass tightened almost to the point of shattering. He didn’t even look up from it, he glared at the jar as if had all the answers to his problems.

“We.. Well. It’s not here in this building.. Uhh, sir. But..but. But, the smugglers you hired just docked a few minutes ago so they should be here within the hour sir” He fumbled over his words knowing the wrong string of them would be the end of his short life.

Murdok slowly released his grip on the glass and looked at Malek.

“Get the boys ready. We have a business meeting to attend too. Tell them to wear their best. Oh.. and good job.” Murdok slapped Malek on the shoulder and went out the front entrance.

Holt checked in his cargo with the officer

“Alright we’ll everything seems to be in order.” The officer smacked his clipboard with his pen.

“Thank you so much.” Holt tried to distract the officer while Dal tried to sneak the spice crates off the ship.

The officer stops.

“Now hold on boys. Whatever you got there is sending my sensors into a major hissy fit. I gotta have a look in there, I hope you understand.” The officer said with a sigh of regret.

“That’s alright officer, you’re just doing your job I understand.” Dal glared at Holt while the officer checked inside his crates.

“You said you had this handled!” Dal yelled in a hushed whisper.

“I’m working on it, give me a sec.” Holt waved him off.

“Gee boys I gotta be honest, this looks like Culia prime spice.” The officer said with surprise and disappointment.

“Oh I hope not! That’s illegal isn’t it?” Holt said with fake surprise.

“I’m gonna have to call this in.” The officer reached for his radio. Holt quickly grabbed his arm with one hand and threw 3 quick hits to the face knocking out the security guard. His body hit the floor and Dal and Holt looked at each other.

“See. Handled.” Holt said for amusement.

“Let’s just get this spice to your buyer..”

__________________________________________________

The cantina was.. An acquired taste. The walls were peeling, the drinks were sour and the owner walked… Well, Dal could tell how full of himself he was. The man walked up to Holt with his hands extended and a big grin swept across his face.

“Holt, my boy! This man knows how to get things done!” Murdok viciously shook Holt's hand with that smile.

“Isn’t Holt just the absolute best?” Dal crossed his arms in disappointment.

“We got that spice you ordered. If we could just get the payment we’ll get out of your hair, Murdok. We all know your time is worth more than gold.” Hult continued to shake his hand and spoke with caution.

“Ah, I wish I could. Honestly! Unfortunately.. I won’t be able to do that. Change of plans, but I can pay you for the inconvenience of the whole situation..” Murdok stopped shaking Holt's hand and immediately rubbed his hands together.

“I don’t like the sign of that Murdock.” Dal stepped closer into Murdok's space.

“Yes.. Yes.. it’s unfortunate but have no fear my friends. The key for the lock on this crate is merely a couple blocks away.. I uhh. Just need someone to go pick it up for me. That’s all.”

“We’ll get your key Murdok, on my life.” Holt said, trying to diffuse the situation. He could tell Dal was just looking for the right string of words to get them both killed. Holt grabbed Dal’s arm and yanked him out the door as the two of them headed out to find this key.

Holt and Dal hurried down the street corner looking for the address. Dal kept glaring at Holt. The Job was supposed to be simple. In and out. They reached the apartment, old and warn. The door wasn’t even locked so Dal pushed the door open and it glided with ease. Holt wandered around the main room while Dal went to see what was hidden in a side room.

“Hmm. Locked. Isn’t that fascinating.” He says while pulling out his lock picking kit. After a few minutes he successfully opens the door and discovers something that shocks him.

“Holt, what the fuck did you get us wrapped up in?” Dal ran his hands through his hair anxiously.

“What is it?” Holt shouted from the other room.

“It’s a fucking Kid.”