The Socorro Crisis (STAR WARS Fanfiction)

Chapter 1 - The Stranger

Panicked, Benett Casall barged his way through the crowded alley, knocking drunkards to the side as he ran. Soccoro's red giant star, Sokor, was peaking over the horizon, letting off sweltering heat even in the late hours of the evening. Due to Sokor's position in the sky, Benett's forehead was glistening with sweat. His back was also sweaty, causing the black t-shirt he was wearing to cling to him under his jacket.

Benett Casall was an athletic, handsome human in his early twenties. His brown hair was usually neatly swept to one side but, because of the sweat, it had become stringy and straggled. He had closely trimmed stubble along his pronounced jawline.

'Oi, someone stop him!' a voice cried out from behind him.

Frikk's men; Benett owed Frikk money and he couldn't pay, so now the consequences were coming, and by the sounds of the commotion following him, they were coming fast. There were three men in total, as far as he could tell from when he had first caught a glimpse of them in the market. All three had blasters holstered onto their leather belts.

Benett took a glance over his shoulder; above the crowd of people, he saw the three men's heads bobbing up and down, in and out of sight. As he spun his head back around, he clattered right into a towering, bushy-haired beast. From the ground, Benett looked up. Looming over him was an eight-foot, burly Wookiee snarling and flashing his fangs. The Wookiee roared, launching gobs of spit from his mouth. He reached out his paw and grasped Benett by his shirt. With ease, he lifted him up until they were face to face, Benett's feet dangling above the sandy path. The Wookiee's foul breath made him wince in disgust.

'Put me down, beast,' Benett demanded. No luck, the Wookiee only responded with another roar, louder this time, leaving a tinny ringing in his ears.

'Look, I'm sorry I called you a beast, okay?' The Wookiee tilted his head. 'And ... I'm sorry for bumping into you. I wasn't looking where I was going. Now will you just put me down,' Benett said while peering back at Frikk's men, who to his dismay, were getting closer.

The Wookiee chuckled before dropping him back onto his back. Benett staggered to his feet. With his pursuers now less than twenty feet away, he dashed into another dingy side-alley with buildings on either side. The alley was a dead end; a chain-link fence stretched from building to building, preventing Benett from passing. When he turned to calculate an alternative route, there they were, Frikk's men, glaring at him.

They edged closer, stopping below an illuminated sign reading Balak's Den. The wiring must've been faulty as it was flickering frantically. The metal bracket securing it in place was coming loose, so the sign was creaking back and forth with the desert breeze.

'It's over Casall,' the man in the middle said. Benett recognised him now, it was Frikk's henchman, Potor Clogg, a broad-shouldered man with thinning black hair and a violent imposition. The man to Clogg's right, Benett did not know, and to his left was the Besalisk, Crag. Crag was potbellied with a bony head crest and four thick arms. Potor Clogg drew his gun and kept it fixed on Benett.

'If I could just talk to Frikk, I'm sure I can smooth this over,' Benett said.

'No kid, we're past that now,' Clogg responded.

'I'll get him his money.'

'Do you have it on you?'

'No, but I'll find it. Trust me.'

'That's not how it works. Krikk did you a solid by letting you play sabacc with credit at one of his tables. You shouldn't have played if you knew you couldn't pay him back, with interest.'

'I didn't plan on losing,' Benett jested with a grin etched on his face.

'Just waste him, Clogg, so we can all go home,' said the Besalisk, Crag, growing visibly irritated at Clogg and Benett's verbal back and forth.