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Elan Sleazebaggano, by @Star_Wars_Legends_Illustrated
“Hey, it’s the Death Sticks Guy! ‘You wanna buy some death sticks?’” a Nikto taunted.
“Sleazebaggano,” the Klatooinian next to him spat as the lanky Balosar trudged past.
Elan Sel'Sabagno squinted at them briefly and swayed before he resumed his march. He was constantly mocked around here and he was sick of it. Yes, he was a Balosar. Yes, he sold death sticks. He didn’t sell death sticks because he was a Balosar. He was furthering this stereotype by practicing against what he preached, but he needed to make a living to afford the booze. Being drunk numbed the pain of the beating he had taken a few hours before. Elan took a risk thinking that the being he tried peddling death sticks to hadn’t heard of them before. Unfortunately, his target was also much larger than the Balosar…
It was dusk now in the Uscru District, and everyone knew it was the prime time for all the dealers to fan out and make a few credits. Elan looked around at the flashing neon holograms of the Entertainment District. Everything imaginable was sold here; speeders, exotic foods from across the galaxy, and, of course, death sticks. Elan wasn’t the only slythmonger around these parts, he’d competed with the likes of Jervis Gloom and Joh Ruino for this turf. Elan wasn’t a violent man, it wasn’t part of the oath he’d—
Elan’s eye caught an advertisement for the Galactic Senate Medcenter. The Balosar stared up at it for a time, his eyes going in and out of focus. A holographic woman stood in a lab coat smiling next to the blazing letters denoting the medcenter. Elan exhaled sharply and trudged on.
The Outlander Club was his usual spot to sell; Bufon Taire covered for him in exchange for a few death sticks. As Elan walked into the venue, his antennapalps reacted strongly to the hustle and bustle of the club’s conglomeration of personalities.
“Sleazebaggano!” one of the many patrons called out. In this state of mind, he only knew that he knew these people. Elan finally recognized a patron he knew he didn’t..
“Hey, ya wanna buy some death sticks?” The patron, hair up with green eye shadow covering her face, pushed past Elan, shaking her head. The stoned Balosar grinned slyly as she walked off.
Another woman walked by, Elan admired the look of her blue dress before suggesting she’d look better in red. As he nursed the slap across his face he heard a familiar voice.
“Oh, look who it is.” Turning to the new voice, Elan squinted to see better. The small and rotund Hat Lo sat enjoying a drink. His Weequay bodyguard spat on Elan as he stood there. “What brings you to the Outlander tonight, Sleazebaggano ?” This name had been made popular by Hat Lo. “Bring anything from Core University?” Lo sneered at the Balosar before him.
“Yeah, a restraining order.” Elan sobered enough to stand up as straight as possible. “Ain’t you the boss at another bar? Don’t you think it’s weird you spend so much time over here?”
Lo stood up and put a hand on the small of Elan’s back. “Sleazebaggano, you are one of my favorite tenants. Forgive me for busting your antennapalps. How about this?” Lo pulled a death stick from his pocket and stuck it in Elan’s coat. “A token of my appreciation for all you’ve done. Med school was a waste of your talents. Don’t forget rent’s due.” Lo gave Elan a little pat on the back, telling him to move on.
Sel’Sabagno ran his hands through his hair until it draped across his cheeks. He wasn’t some toy to be played with; he’d pull off the sale of his career tonight. Elan’s intoxicated eyes scanned the room, and he saw the woman who’d rejected his offer before, talking to the pretend Coruscant police officer and the information broker.
Elan took a puff on the death stick Hat Lo had given him. He’d been in a slump, not just with his profit margin but his whole existence. Elan felt like there had been a point back up the way where he made a choice and it brought him here, but he couldn’t figure out when it was.
“Hello there,” a man greeted Bufon Taire as he sat down next to Sel’Sabagno. He carried himself in a way that was unusual in the Uscru district. Elan could not see the man’s face, but the material of his robe reminded him of beings he used to see far more frequently in a past life. This was a rare example of a surface dweller, and one lacking the basic street smarts to blend in. He took a look at the stick between his fingers. I’m going to upcharge the kriff outta this one .
“Thank you,” the man said after Taire poured, and he took a sip. As Taire went to take care of other patrons, Elan made his move.
“You wanna buy some death sticks?—”
Elan walked down the streets of the Uscru district; he was headed home to rethink his…
“What the?” Elan looked around and took stock of his wares. His death sticks were gone, though everything else remained. If he’d been mugged, why wouldn’t they have taken his jewelry? This night was just getting worse and worse; Sel’Sabagno might as well call it. He was most of the way back to his apartment, anyhow. Elan ascended the dingy stairwell to his apartment on the third floor. He opened the door to see a Cerean curled up and shaking on the floor.
“Looks like you had a good night, Yimmon. That doesn’t look like the work of death sticks though,” Elan chuckled. “What did you score?”
Thi Xon Yimmon slowly looked up at Elan. His eyes bloodshot, he stuttered, “Th-They called it…Skirtopanol. Can’t say I’d want to try it a second time.”
“Skirto? Panol .” Elan’s eyes went wide as he remembered something from a previous life. “That’s a drug used for torture! Who woulda given you that?”
“I don't... know, they asked me if I saw someone, and I must have convinced them that I had and wouldn’t tell them.”
“Hold on now, Yimmon,” Elan said as he pulled the Cerean’s arm over his shoulder and steadied him. The two stumbled down the stairs, falling down a few times. Yimmon was suffering mentally; for now, Elan knew from the observed symptoms that he had a limited amount of time before the drug started doing permanent damage. Like Elan, Yimmon had a taste for substances. Elan sold. Yimmon bought. It had worked well for them in Uscru. Elan hadn’t had to use these skills since—
Yimmon’s weight pulled them both down as they tripped on the final step, and Elan faceplanted on the unwashed surface the locals considered the ground. The Cerean had passed out on top of his Balosar roommate. Down the street, Elan spied a Coruscant Security Force speeder. Elan Sleazebaggano was one to run at the first sign of CSF. “Help!” he shouted. The blazing lights blinded him as they sped toward the two addicts. When the speeder came to a halt, a silhouette stepped out and approached them. The being had fur, and he seemed broad-shouldered, but Elan couldn’t tell much else.
“What’s wrong?” Elan guessed this was a Bothan from his voice as he stepped closer.
“He was drugged. Skirtopanol. We need to get him to a doctor.” The Bothan helped pull Yimmon up off the slythmonger. The pair carried Yimmon to the speeder, and Elan got in the back with him.
“I’m Inspector Yur T’aug. You two are real lucky that we were out here investigating a murder potentially linked to a series of others recently. Even luckier that the Jedi superseded the chain of custody, so I was on my way out.” The speeder got into the proper lane to ascend upward to the surface, a place Elan had not been to in quite some time.
“That’s Thi Xon Yimmon, and you can call me Sleazebaggano.” Elan knew there was no harm in telling the cop his name, but there was no point in doing so either. Old habits die hard.
“I’m taking you to Coruscant Medical. We can discuss the details of whatever this incident was after they treat him.”
The ride was short; Elan was grateful for that. Yimmon was carried in on a stretcher. Elan looked around the medical center; he’d been here while studying to—
The nurse tapped him on the shoulder. “Sir, you need to stand back, we’re going to give him a shot of Lotiramine.”
Elan’s head snapped to attention. “What?! That could kill him! He’s on Skirtopanol; he’ll be cooked.”
“Perhaps I could be of service.” A lithe Mirialan in a black cloak had approached Elan and the nurse outside of either’s awareness.
“Oh no, this isn’t more Jedi business; CSF is handling it.” T’aug scowled at the girl Elan assumed was a Jedi. He wasn’t sure if he’d seen one before. Not sure what I expected, a little underwhelming.
A dark-haired woman made a beeline to the group that formed, a nametag identified here as Doctor Ting. “Captain T’aug, I understand you have a disdain for Jedi, but please remember that you have lost your rank several times because of it.” She directed the nurse to another patient.
Not even wasting time moving Yimmon from the stretcher, the Mirialan put a hand to his head and closed her eyes. Elan had no idea what she was doing, and he certainly couldn’t feel anything.
I wanna go home and rethink my life.
Elan finally had an opportunity and looked around the med center, they had been brought into an initial triage area, meant to stabilize patients so they could be worked on. Elan used to see himself ending up in a place like this. Even if it had been as a patient, this would have indicated that he made it somewhere. Sitting down next to them, Elan fell into a trance as he watched the girl work Jedi magic on his roommate. He didn’t think of Yimmon as a friend—he didn’t do that anymore, but Hat Lo had put them both in that room, and they just happened to be cut from the same cloth.
“He’s stable, but I’ll need to keep at it for a while.” The girl looked up at Sel’Sebagno, T’aug, and the doctor.
“Well, that wasn’t so hard.” The doctor gave T’aug an appreciative look before going to treat other patients.
“I think I’ve done my duty. Will you be able to get back to Uscru on your own?” T’aug stood over Elan. The Balosar wasn’t sure if he was offering a ride or not.
“Eh, no—I mean, yes! We’ll be able to get back to Uscru. It was, uh, very nice of you to do what you did.” Sel’Sabagno gave an awkward smile.
“It’s what I do.” T’aug gave a nod and shuffled off, leaving Yimmon, Elan and the young Jedi.
“My name is Barriss. Barriss Offee.” The Jedi gave a small smile.
“Uh, Elan Sel’Sabagno,” Elan felt comfortable telling this girl his name. “This is Thi Xon Yimmon.” After a moment of silence he added, “This wasn’t his choice, by the way. Someone shot him up.”
Barriss gave a kind nod. “Yes, this is not a standard drug for… recreation. I’m extracting the pathogens from his bloodstream. You may need to stay the night, this will take several hours. I’m also picking up some signs of physical addiction to a few substances, but I think I can mend that as well.”
Elan couldn’t imagine what Yimmon was like when sober, and he worried that nothing would be left in his binary brain. “I’m sure he would appreciate that.” Not like I sold to him anyhow.
#
In the morning, Elan was roused by conversation between Barriss and Yimmon. “Thank you, Jedi Offee, for this gift. I owe my life to you.”
“You can call me Barriss, but I ask that you take better care of yourself from now on. Your body no longer craves the substances you’ve grown accustomed to, but you will need to work on the psychological dependency. Cerean physiology makes it so I would do more harm than good if I tried.”
“I can do that; it is the least I can do.” He turned to Elan, who looked at him with confusion for a moment before blinking a few times. “Oh, Elan, you’re awake.”
“How ya feelin’, Yimmon?” Elan gave him a lopsided grin, mind at ease after seeing his roommate up and talking.
“I haven’t felt this way for a very long time. I feel as though I’ve been reborn. You should—How do you feel?”
“Oh, slept like a baby. How about we get out of here before someone tries charging us?”
“I’m not on their payroll, so there’s no way their system can generate a bill.” Barriss’s smile widened.
“Thanks, Jedi.” Elan gave an eccentric bow as Yimmon hopped off the stretcher and the two slithered out the front door.
“You been up here recently?” the slythmonger asked his companion.
“Not since I first came to Coruscant, since the work search pushed me further down the levels until there was nothing but the slums of Uscru. You know what happens next.” Yimmon looked up at the morning sky of Coruscant. “Do you know why I came to Coruscant?”
“No clue.”
“Are you aware that Cerean males are extremely rare?” As they walked the street, Yimmon did not turn his gaze from the sky, almost as though he was looking at his homeworld hundreds of thousands of parsecs away.
The fact jogged Elan’s memory. “Yeah, so they marry a bunch of Cerean gals in an attempt to keep the species going, right?”
“Imagine the shame of being one of the few able to stave off the extinction of your entire species and unable to do even that?” Yimmon finally turned to Elan. “What brought you to the Jewel of the Core Worlds?”
“Med school, Core University. Was gonna be a doctor.” Elan hadn’t been asked that by any of the Uscru locals, and he wondered what they thought his reason for being there was. “They don’t like Balosars at Core U, but they’d never tell you. Only guys who treated me right convinced me to start stealing equipment.”
Yimmon nodded. “You were dismissed because they caught you stealing?” Elan did not detect judgment in his tone.
“Oh, no. I was dismissed for attacking someone for accusing me of stealing.”
“But you did steal equipment?”
“Sure, sure, but that’s not the point!” Elan took a breath. “I understand being an outcast of your species. I fell into the old Balosar stereotypes in my attempt to go against the grain.” He turned his head to a nearby building and let out a chuckle. “That right there is home base to a being that loves the Balosars. Come on, let’s grab a bite. I haven’t been out here in quite some time.”
He strolled over to a humble hunk of metal, sparingly painted a nice shade of red. “Welcome to Dex’s Diner.” He walked in looking for the owner, not a hard being to miss, and he spotted the back of the Besalisk’s head. Dexter Jettster was sitting at a table, talking to a bearded human who was looking at Elan now with surprise.
Dex turned around to see what had caught his buddy’s attention, and when he caught sight of Elan, a smile shone brightly on his face. “Whadya know!” He rushed over to give a hug to the twitchy being. “Two sights for sore eyes in one day! I’m the luckiest guy in CoCo Town. Obi-Wan Kenobi, meet Elan Sel’Sabagno!”
I wanna go home and rethink my life.
Kenobi stood up and shook Elan’s hand with a tight smile. “A friend of Dex is a friend of mine…well, maybe that shouldn’t always be the case.” He mused and gave Dexter a humorous expression.
“He’s the best when you’ve got shallow pockets; kept me from going hungry a few times up here.” Elan suddenly remembered something. “Oh, Dex, this is Thi Xon Yimmon, roommate of mine.”
Though Dex looked prepared for a handshake, Yimmon approached Kenobi. “You’re a Jedi, yes?” His voice was quiet as he looked down at Kenobi’s attire. Elan looked at him a second time. This was the kind of guy he’d try selling death sticks to if he saw him around Uscru.
“I am, yes.” Kenobi nodded. He seemed to be waiting for whatever the Cerean would say next, as his hand drifted toward his belt.
“Just this morning, I was healed by Barriss Offee, she said her name was.”
The Jedi beamed. “Yes, I had spent many days over the past month with Padawan Offee and her master. She is quite the acrobat!” He laughed. “Anyhow, Dex is an old friend, and I was asking him for advice.” Kenobi turned to face Jettster. “I thank you for the help; I’ll leave you to your work.” He gave the Besalisk a pat on the shoulder before turning to leave. He looked at Elan once more, his eyes thoughtful as he passed.
"Well, have a seat, you two.” Dex sits down and waves them to sit across from him. “What brings you here? I haven’t seen you in a good year or two, you do a residency offworld?”
“Oh, uh, no, I got dismissed from Core U. Haven’t been up here since you last saw me.” Elan cringed in anticipation of a scolding from Dex as though he were Elan’s dear old dad.
“Aw, buddy. I’m sorry to hear that. What happened? Core U might not be the very top, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
“My grades were slipping; it didn’t help that they held Balosars to a higher standard, either.” Elan realized how that sounded after it came out of his mouth.
“Hey now, that’s not the way the galaxy should be, and it won’t if you don’t let it.” Dex had lived a lot of life, Elan had a great deal of respect for him, on top of gratitude for his hospitality.
“CSF helped for once.” Elan changed the subject. “Yimmon here got shot up with something nasty, Skirtopanol.”
Though Elan could tell Dex would return to the subject before, this made his eyes light up. “That drug is only used in cases of interrogation. You don’t seem like a junkie, Mr. Yimmon, but if you were, that drug wouldn’t do anything for ya. Not even addictive.”
“Not to worry, Mr. Jettster. I was a junkie, in fact, but I can tell you this was not a drug I took of my own volition. Someone asked if I’d seen a woman go by. I was sarcastic, and they thought I was lying, so they interrogated me.” Yimmon mused over the situation, and the waitress came over and handed each a Jawa juice.
“I heard things haven’t been good in Uscru as of late. Lots of deaths.” Dexter stroked his chin. “Even heard rumors of some terrorist cells messing around down there.”
“Well, I ain’t surprised.” Elan took a sip of Jawa juice. “Not a single kark is given until they need our credits. Yimmon is lucky we caught one of the few nonhuman CSF officers to help. Doubt they’d have given us a lift.”
“Elan, I’ve never heard you express any opinions about the government. Why is all this grief suddenly tossed in their lap?” Yimmon asked more curiously than accusatorily.
“I’m not gonna act like I’m the guy who has all this socio-economical background, but I lived up here. Homeless in CoCo Town gets you a mid-size apartment in Uscru. Get much lower than that, and you risk getting your face chewed on by beings compelled by something far different than any drug on the market. Humans don’t trust a Balosar, which made it impossible to become a doctor, because there was some sort of social test at every corner.”
Dex straightened up in his seat. “You think pro-human sentiment is on the rise? I see humans come here all the time, give me a big smile. Hell, I got Hermione workin’ here, and we get along fine. I gave her an opportunity. Me, a non-human.”
“There’s a lot more humans out there you haven’t met, Dex. If things continue going the way they are, we all get pushed further down, out of sight; they are erasing us . ” The other two at the booth looked at Elan with concern.
Dex shook his head in thought. “Well, don’t worry, Dex’s Diner isn’t going anywhere. I don’t plan on getting erased.” He sat back with a laugh.
“I hope you’re right, Dex, the people of Coruscant need your food.”
#
After a good half hour of ranting, Elan and Yimmon were walking down the street, trying to figure out the best way back to Uscru. Air Taxis hovered above, but the duo knew they could not afford one.
“I thought you said we were being pushed to the lower levels. Why is it now so difficult to get down there when we want to?” Yimmon teased his companion.
“I don’t understand why everyone’s having trouble believing tensions are rising around here. I’m not worried about just the humans either; when one pushes, the other pushes back.”
Yimmon’s eyes showed concern. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m just saying the populace here is a lot more than just humans, and if they push too hard, there’s gonna be some real resistance.”
Yimmon mulled this over. “I hardly think open resistance is warranted or a possibility. If the Republic should lose its way, and I shudder to consider this, the Jedi would surely maintain the peace.”
“The Jedi can’t solve every problem.” Elan pointed out some stairs that would take them back home.
I wanna go home and rethink my life.
#
In the days that came, as in literal days, five days, that’s how many; a war began, the first in nearly a thousand years. Days later, a secret army was loaded onto Coruscant, and to Elan’s utter delight and paranoia, it was an army of humans. Elan had not rethought his life; he was too busy selling death sticks.
“The kark is this?” The diminutive Xexto rose to his full height. “I told you I wanted spice!”
“Settle down, Gas, he came up to us, and I think you might have made that up.” A small green creature was perched on his shoulder. Elan thought the thing had been a hallucination.
“I got death sticks, I got Nkllonian lava extract, I got Polordion smootdust. I don’t got spice.”
“Then what good are you!?” The Xexto screeched and stormed off with his friend.
“Ugh, guess I gotta sell spice to stay relevant.” Elan scratched his head and looked around the street to see if anyone had witnessed that incident.
“Sleazebaggano.” A voice from behind him said in a gruff purr.
“Wha— Oh, Inspector T’aug, how’d you find me?” The Balosar shoved various drugs back into his coat pockets.
“Very easily, if you can’t figure out why; you should go home and rethink your life. I’m here to warn you, there’s a warrant out for you and Yimmon. You need to turn yourselves in and then we can sort this out. I would vouch that you aren’t a terrorist, and I know a good lawyer.” The Bothan looked pretty sincere, and Elan would have normally spent more time on this, but he was hung up on something else.
“They think I’m a terrorist? I’m a Slythmonger! I mean, uh… I’m a simple man making my way in the galaxy.” Elan stuck his hands in his pockets nervously.
“I’m going back to the station, and I’m gonna make sure I’m the one who receives the two of you. Just sit and wait, do not turn yourselves in.” The Bothan ran off.
Elan figured there was no time like the present and headed to his apartment. As Elan ran, he mused over the last week with Yimmon. He’d been different from how Elan had ever remembered him being. He’d been jogging, meditating, reading; he hadn’t touched any substances since that fateful day. Elan was happy for him, all things considered: At least one of them was improving.
“Sleazebag,” a voice called from the next alley on the street, but looking ahead, Elan could see his apartment building a few blocks down.
“Now that’s just unkind.” Elan peeked inside, not like there would be much of a loss if he was jumped right now. “It’s Sleazebaga—ugh Sel’Sabagno, what do you want?”
It was the woman from the Outlander Club he’d tried selling to. “My people have had eyes on you for a few days; CSF is after you.”
“Ah, now you want to talk to me, sorry sister, I’m nowhere near as drunk as I was that night.” Elan started walking past her.
“Someone reported you for spouting some rhetoric out in public right before the war started, and they think you’re a sympathizer. I personally doubt that, but if you really said what you said, maybe you and your buddy might be valuable to my organization.”
“Ugh, this isn’t really a good time, lady, I gotta go grab my roommate.” Elan stared down the street again and watched Yimmon climb out of the third-story window. He rappelled down a nearby pipe and jumped down when he was close enough to the ground. “Yimmon?!” Elan called out. Yimmon looked at him when he heard, and Elan could see fear in his eyes. “We gotta cooperate!” Immediately, Elan regretted his words as a CSF officer appeared at the window and started blasting.
Yimmon ran toward Elan, shouting out to him. Elan watched as another CSF officer burst through the complex entryway. Yimmon could reach this alley, but what would be the point if they could just follow them anyway?
I wanna go home and rethink my life.
“Will you get him out of here?” Elan looked at the woman, she seemed surprised by how unexpectedly serious he had turned. Perhaps Elan himself was surprised.
“Yes, if you get out, you are always welcome with Edge Nine.”
Elan charged toward Yimmon, and the Cerean seemed to know what he had in mind, quickly realizing the only thing protesting would do was get him caught too.
“Watch out for the whiplash!” Elan juked around Yimmon as he went. Elan smacked right into the cop, who was a taller, muscular human. Elan slowed him, but the man grabbed him and pushed him face-first to the ground. Elan felt the cold stuncuffs slapped on his wrists, but he was more focused on watching Yimmon run into the alley. When the Balosar finally lost sight of him, he breathed a sigh of relief and turned his attention to the officer.
“—bagno, you are under arrest for suspected plots against the Republic…”
#
Elan spent the night in a cell. T’aug had been there as promised and convinced the other officers to give him a break. Elan requested a lawyer, which he hoped was what the Bothan wanted him to do, and he was moved to a private room.
“Sleazebagano, where is Yimmon?” T’aug looked confused.
“CSF shot at us.”
“They killed him?”
Elan stared at him for a second. “No… where’s this so-called lawyer?”
Another Bothan emerged from the door, he was lanky with a twinkle in his eyes, “Eramuth Bwua'tu at your service.” He took a bow. “To move quickly, you said a few things about the Republic, and it was reported immediately, but not taken into consideration until the war broke out. You are not conspiring against the Republic, correct?”
Elan relaxed a little after this. “No sir, just don’t like it. I’m liking it even less after this.”
“Are there any witnesses you can call upon to make the case?”
“Dexter Jettster. No one else.”
“I see…well, our Republic was built on ideals that are being slapped in the face by this practice. We will get you out of here with a swift trial.” Elan felt a great kindness in this Bothan; perhaps if given the opportunity, he’d have defended Elan skillfully.
There was a knock at the door. It was the diminutive Hat Lo, he’d come here all by himself. “Elan, lad, what have you been up to?”
“Assaulting an officer on top of conspiracy.” Elan swallowed hard, knowing exactly how this went down.
“Well, I talked to one of my pals at the station, and they said if I pay your bail, you’re out of here today. If I do this, you’d owe me, of course.” Hat Lo’s long collar covered his mouth, but Elan could picture the smile on his face.
Elan couldn’t picture the Republic getting him a fair trial after this. He didn’t want to spend another day this high up on Coruscant. The Balosar looked at the two Bothans with sadness before he turned back to the man. “You got yourself a deal.”
I wanna go home and rethink my life.