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Corellia, 144 ABY
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A deep sigh escaped Beto's lips as the New Republic shuttle touched down inside the spaceport's hangar. His suit didn't look as good on him as his had four years ago and his face had aged in isolation. He was one of twelve sullen, yet quietly excited, men stuncuffed to their seats while two uniformed security officers checked the list one last time. When they reached him they paused long enough for Beto to look up and giving them a weak smile that looked nothing like it had once. "Inmate thirteen-dash-three-hundred-dash-sixteen, Beto Lorsoni-" one of the officers said before Beto's holo-mugshot appeared on the a small handheld device they used to check the list against the to-be-released inmates. He looked considerably younger in his mugshot. He had been happier, too. "-yeah, checks out."
Just like that his stuncuffs switched off. "Your stop, mister Lorsoni," the officer said and suddenly the other inmates looked up as well as they finally seemed to recognize the name. The Lorsoni Crime Family was on of the Corellia's established criminal dynasties and while they couldn't always avoid prison time, they were given the courtesy of not having to leave the shuttle at the same time as the other degenerates.
Beto rubbed his wrists for a second and then rose to his feet. The flight down through the atmosphere and the planet's gravity made him feel more sluggish than he had all those years in space, so he made his way to the exit slowly and sought support from seats and the walls as much as he could. That is, until he reached the exit, where he straightened the suit that wasn't such a tight fit anymore and pulled his shoulders back. Theatrics were important in his world and he couldn't afford to leave this shuttle looking as tired and defeated as he felt. His surname was Lorsoni. He was larger than life. Only got four years for a twelve-year offence.
He didn't really know who he had expected to pick him up. Not his uncle the boss, sure, but at least his brother or the girlfriend he hadn't heard from in fourteen months. When he walked down the ramp all he saw was mid-class speeder and the stupid sheepish grin of Dek Titch, a human associate that used to watch the door at the family's pazaak den.
"Beto, over here!" he called out, prompting Beto to close his eyes with a frown and pause for a second. Really? He was just a kid. Had he really worked as a ringleader for a decade and running the family's ynthetic spice lab for half that time only to be greeted by kriffing Dek Titch? "Maybe shout my name a little louder, will you?" he shook his head and walked around to the passenger side of the speeder without allowing Dek the opportunity to give a "welcome home hug". "Just take me home, kid." He opened the door and was about to step in when he spotted the sudden uncertain look in Dek's face and stopped abruptly, "What?"
"CorSec confiscated your place shortly after you left for the prison ship. Said it was bought with dirty credits, so-" he paused to look away from Beta's cold hatefilled eyes. "-so that was my home. They had no right! Why didn't unc-" now it was Beto's turn to stop mid-sentence and he took a deep breath to compose himself. "You know what, doesn't matter. Just take me to my new place."
Corellia wasn't anything pretty to look at. Shipyards, polluted skies and seas you wouldn't even let a rodian swim in. It truly was a sewer of a planet, but now that he was speeding through it again Beto had to admit: Corellia was home.
This was the planet he was born and raised. His first racket had been hustling workers at the shipyard. Pretty sure some of their kids were actually his, too. Being young on Corellia wasn't so bad, not for an established family, anyway. Beto got an accountancy degree and cooked the books so their earnings from illegal pazaak dens and dance studio's could be funneled through their shipyard and transport jobs. Wasn't glamorous, but it also didn't land them the spotlight that gunslingers like Preef Callo got. No one offworld bothered with the Lorsoni Crime Family and why would they? Half the shipyard workers in their districts would go on strikes, cause accidents or sabotage the big navy or corporate ships they were building.
Small fish were left in the pond to fatten. The trick was never to get fat enough for them to want to catch you.
To his own surprise, Dek Titch drove the speeder into one of the residential piers in his family's sphere of influence. "Dek, this is spicebum pier-" Beto began, calling Residential Pier #3412 by the nickname it got due to the many spice addicts living on the streets and in the abandoned apartments. Dek smiled as he steered the speeder into the underground parking lot, "Oh yeah, that's what they used to call it didn't they? About two years ago Coronet City council finally agreed to let one of our developers to spruce up the place." Dek started laughing, clearly remembering something funny about that time, "We got in there one night and threw those addicts into the ocean!"
Beto smiled, "must've been a good sight." He had always hated those kriffers. Sure, his family sold them the stuff they were addicted to, but no self-respecting person would ever get addicted to kriffing synthetic glitterryll of all things. "Yeah it was great. We fixed up the pier and rent it out to middle class families now. Good racket. Oh hey-" he suddenly swerved and parked the speeder in a reserved spot. "-this is you. Take the elevator up to third. You got an ocean view."
Having no luggage of his own and Dek didn't seem too inclined to get out and escort him to his new home, Beto simply nodded and opened the door. "Thanks, kid." He wasn't sure he really meant it, "I'll be in touch." Dek nodded as one of the boss' nephews climbed out of his speeder and closed to door behind him. He remembered Beto. There was a good chance the sullen mobster would forget about him by the morning.
"He was technically right," Beto smiled as he looked out from his large floor-to-ceiling window. The water was the ocean, after all. He hadn't been sure if expected some kind of surprise party or at least some scantily-clad dame waiting for him. His girlfriend hadn't waited around for him. That much he now knew for certain.
He turned and walked over to the kitchenette where he took the celebratory bottle of Corellian whiskey from the counter and twisted it open. The perfect true Corellian drink for a homecoming, he mused as he poured a small glass for himself. Too bad he had to celebrate it alone. Maybe that was his biggest regret. He was thirty-seven when he went away. If he had focused a little less on the family and a little more on a family.. maybe he would've been welcomed by a little Beto and a wife warm help him readjust to having a soft bed instead of that plastic matras on the prison ship.
Corellia, 144 ABY
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A deep sigh escaped Beto's lips as the New Republic shuttle touched down inside the spaceport's hangar. His suit didn't look as good on him as his had four years ago and his face had aged in isolation. He was one of twelve sullen, yet quietly excited, men stuncuffed to their seats while two uniformed security officers checked the list one last time. When they reached him they paused long enough for Beto to look up and giving them a weak smile that looked nothing like it had once. "Inmate thirteen-dash-three-hundred-dash-sixteen, Beto Lorsoni-" one of the officers said before Beto's holo-mugshot appeared on the a small handheld device they used to check the list against the to-be-released inmates. He looked considerably younger in his mugshot. He had been happier, too. "-yeah, checks out."
Just like that his stuncuffs switched off. "Your stop, mister Lorsoni," the officer said and suddenly the other inmates looked up as well as they finally seemed to recognize the name. The Lorsoni Crime Family was on of the Corellia's established criminal dynasties and while they couldn't always avoid prison time, they were given the courtesy of not having to leave the shuttle at the same time as the other degenerates.
Beto rubbed his wrists for a second and then rose to his feet. The flight down through the atmosphere and the planet's gravity made him feel more sluggish than he had all those years in space, so he made his way to the exit slowly and sought support from seats and the walls as much as he could. That is, until he reached the exit, where he straightened the suit that wasn't such a tight fit anymore and pulled his shoulders back. Theatrics were important in his world and he couldn't afford to leave this shuttle looking as tired and defeated as he felt. His surname was Lorsoni. He was larger than life. Only got four years for a twelve-year offence.
He didn't really know who he had expected to pick him up. Not his uncle the boss, sure, but at least his brother or the girlfriend he hadn't heard from in fourteen months. When he walked down the ramp all he saw was mid-class speeder and the stupid sheepish grin of Dek Titch, a human associate that used to watch the door at the family's pazaak den.
"Beto, over here!" he called out, prompting Beto to close his eyes with a frown and pause for a second. Really? He was just a kid. Had he really worked as a ringleader for a decade and running the family's ynthetic spice lab for half that time only to be greeted by kriffing Dek Titch? "Maybe shout my name a little louder, will you?" he shook his head and walked around to the passenger side of the speeder without allowing Dek the opportunity to give a "welcome home hug". "Just take me home, kid." He opened the door and was about to step in when he spotted the sudden uncertain look in Dek's face and stopped abruptly, "What?"
"CorSec confiscated your place shortly after you left for the prison ship. Said it was bought with dirty credits, so-" he paused to look away from Beta's cold hatefilled eyes. "-so that was my home. They had no right! Why didn't unc-" now it was Beto's turn to stop mid-sentence and he took a deep breath to compose himself. "You know what, doesn't matter. Just take me to my new place."
Corellia wasn't anything pretty to look at. Shipyards, polluted skies and seas you wouldn't even let a rodian swim in. It truly was a sewer of a planet, but now that he was speeding through it again Beto had to admit: Corellia was home.
This was the planet he was born and raised. His first racket had been hustling workers at the shipyard. Pretty sure some of their kids were actually his, too. Being young on Corellia wasn't so bad, not for an established family, anyway. Beto got an accountancy degree and cooked the books so their earnings from illegal pazaak dens and dance studio's could be funneled through their shipyard and transport jobs. Wasn't glamorous, but it also didn't land them the spotlight that gunslingers like Preef Callo got. No one offworld bothered with the Lorsoni Crime Family and why would they? Half the shipyard workers in their districts would go on strikes, cause accidents or sabotage the big navy or corporate ships they were building.
Small fish were left in the pond to fatten. The trick was never to get fat enough for them to want to catch you.
To his own surprise, Dek Titch drove the speeder into one of the residential piers in his family's sphere of influence. "Dek, this is spicebum pier-" Beto began, calling Residential Pier #3412 by the nickname it got due to the many spice addicts living on the streets and in the abandoned apartments. Dek smiled as he steered the speeder into the underground parking lot, "Oh yeah, that's what they used to call it didn't they? About two years ago Coronet City council finally agreed to let one of our developers to spruce up the place." Dek started laughing, clearly remembering something funny about that time, "We got in there one night and threw those addicts into the ocean!"
Beto smiled, "must've been a good sight." He had always hated those kriffers. Sure, his family sold them the stuff they were addicted to, but no self-respecting person would ever get addicted to kriffing synthetic glitterryll of all things. "Yeah it was great. We fixed up the pier and rent it out to middle class families now. Good racket. Oh hey-" he suddenly swerved and parked the speeder in a reserved spot. "-this is you. Take the elevator up to third. You got an ocean view."
Having no luggage of his own and Dek didn't seem too inclined to get out and escort him to his new home, Beto simply nodded and opened the door. "Thanks, kid." He wasn't sure he really meant it, "I'll be in touch." Dek nodded as one of the boss' nephews climbed out of his speeder and closed to door behind him. He remembered Beto. There was a good chance the sullen mobster would forget about him by the morning.
"He was technically right," Beto smiled as he looked out from his large floor-to-ceiling window. The water was the ocean, after all. He hadn't been sure if expected some kind of surprise party or at least some scantily-clad dame waiting for him. His girlfriend hadn't waited around for him. That much he now knew for certain.
He turned and walked over to the kitchenette where he took the celebratory bottle of Corellian whiskey from the counter and twisted it open. The perfect true Corellian drink for a homecoming, he mused as he poured a small glass for himself. Too bad he had to celebrate it alone. Maybe that was his biggest regret. He was thirty-seven when he went away. If he had focused a little less on the family and a little more on a family.. maybe he would've been welcomed by a little Beto and a wife warm help him readjust to having a soft bed instead of that plastic matras on the prison ship.
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