A Gun, A Job, and an Act of Mercy

[Saria Messoa]

Saria worker alone. That was the rule. She had become... close to Koda before the Togruta had vanished. Ever since then, he rule was to travel alone, hire no other hands, and keep to herself. She didn't want to get close again to anyone just to get hurt again. That was the rule from here forward. But the galaxy was a big place, and she had hopped from planet to planet countless times delivering cargo with a fair amount of consistent ease. She made her money. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to make ends meet.

But there were some jobs you couldn't go without a second hand, they were just too dangerous. The Wonderlust-45 needed some new repairs that Saria couldn't keep jerry-rigging away, like the intertial damper, or the forward prop's hydrolic compressor. As the Wonderlust settled on the landing platform it gave a hissing wheeze, reminding her that the main coolant splicer needed some work too. Flipping several switches, Saria re-routed coolant from the auxiliary functions and quickly placicated the overheating engine. The result was the rest of the ship was now basically powerless. She sighed, rising from the pilot's seat.

"Its almost fixed. I'm almost there," the twe'lik reminded herself.

She made her way down the curved hall, opening the loading ramp on emergency power. It was basically the only way it opened now. With a shutter and a shake it eased itself to the ground.

Saria stepped into the open, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. Dusun. She has been told this was one of the best places to find a gun who knew what they were doing. Saria needed a gun who did. She staggered through the streets, her blaster pistol strapped to her thigh. The farm girl before would have been terrified of this place. But Saria had reached the point where the strangers with their odd clothes and weapons didn't make a huge difference to her either way. She could handle herself now more than before. The pilot stepped into a small, seedy bar. This was the best place to start looking for a good gun. She stepped up to the bar, mounting the bar stool like a swoop bike. "A beer. Nothing else."

[member="Corr Starburner"]

 

[Corr Starburner]

"Right." The young man said, dragging out the vowel in his word. "And I'm supposed to believe that then? That you just dropped her off, as per her request, and left. Not a second thought? no questions asked?" The man persisted. The bar patron was trying to play him for a fool. Corr stood from his seat, his holster dangling from his hip freely. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cigarra and placed it into his mouth. He pulled the small lighter from his pocket and lit it. Taking in a drag, and releasing the smoke, and he reached back into his pocket. Pulling out a small picture of a girl. He slammed it onto the table, loudly as he could so all could see. "Elven years old!" Corr shouted, letting the picture rest on the table.
"I don't know anything." The man said, whimpering. "Please, stop."

Corr ignored his plea. "Where'd she go? Who has her now?" Corr shouted. "Gang members? You know what they'll do to her. Slavers?" Corr persisted wanting to get information. He leaned down beside the man. "Now I ain't gonna hurt you. But these guys, take child slavery mighty seriously." He said, making a nod to some of the larger men in the crowd of the rinkydink bar. "Now I can't speal for them. But, I can speak about you. And I can be very loud." He said, clamping his hands down on the mans shoulders.
The man jumped in his seat at Corr's touch and yelped. "I don't know who picked her up, but I dropped her off just outside the city. Th-there was a goatal! Red fur, broken horn. That's all I know I swear." He said, panic in his voice. So, he did drop her off. red fur, broken horned gotal. It wasn't much, but it was more then what he had the last few days. "Thanks, take care now!" Corr said, putt the last of his cigaara out on the table.

He moved over to the other side of the room, dropping a handful of credits into the hands of one of the large men. "Don't kill 'em. Just rough him up sum." He said, tipping his hat back as he moved past the door men. Stepping out of the vip lounge, or what was to be conisdered a vip lounge, Corr surveyd the bar area. He could go to the outskirts of town, try and find a trace and pick the trail up that way. But a gut feeling he had made him suspect that there was more here. He could, sense it, almost like a pull. His eyes drifted over to the door where a twilek had entered. Odd clothing, with a gun to boot. Not a slave then. Corr rubbed the growing stubble on his chin as he watched her make her way over to the bar. Without much forethought he sat down beside her. "Make it two. One for me, and the pretty lady here." Corr said, setting his hat on the counter.

As the tender fetched the drinks, Corr attempted small talk. "Now, what brings someone like you into a place like this?" Corr asked, his accent peaking through his words. He truely did want to know what it was that she was doing. It was in his nature, knowing things. Working in missing persons did that to you. Connect all the dots. Little girl goes missing a week ago, trail lead to here, and now a mysterious twilek shows up. With odd clothing, a gun, and most likely a ship. "You wouldn't happen to be, tradin' anything would ya'?" Corr egged on as the drinks arrived.
[member="Saria Messoa"]

 

[Saria Messoa]

[member="Corr Starburner"]

Saria heard the loud shouting from the other room, and as the human swaggered out of the lounge, she heard the blows falling with the cries for mercy and help. Smart money was on help not coming. She took the cold beer and gave it a sip before answering. She was careful to not place her bare elbows on the counter. It was dingy, and she didn't even want to know what all was on the surface. She was almost positive there were several body fluids mixed across its top from a half a dozen species.

"I'm just a pilot, I don't trade, I move things from point a to point b," she said with a shrug, "I pilot a junk freighter, a YT-2400. She's not a lot, but she gets me where I need to go."

She wasn't anything special, just a pilot making it solo as much as she could. Along the way she had picked up a lot of skills she had never been taught at the farm back home, then she had refined some others to be better at what she needed to do. It was just about survival at this point. Ironic, considering what she was contemplating doing.

"And that gives me a lot of knowledge, it keeps my thumb on the pulse of the galaxy," she said, looking at the cool glass in her hands. "Jabiim has fallen into some deep corruption, its run by pirates and criminals. Nothing goes in, and nothing goes out without their control. While there isn't much there is still some valubale ore there," she toook a sip from her glass, "Ore that the nobles of Gala would pay top dollar for, if it managed to fall into their hands. Trouble is, this isn't the type of job I can pull off alone," she glanced at him, "I need someone with brains and who knows how to shoot fast and follow directions."

 

[Corr Starburner]

[member="Saria Messoa"]

So, she was a pilot as his hunch had suggested. Corr took a long swig of the beer he had ordered. She had a junk ship, and that either meant she traded with parts or that he ship was actually junk. The kind that was held together with conventional glue and sheer willpower. She then went to mention that she was needing a helping hand for her next job, Someone smart enough to take orders and good with a gun. Sounded like she needed a soldier more than a hired gun. He thought to offer his services, the lure of credits being far to tempting. But the picture in his pocket reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing. This woman was a smuggler, she had to have connections. Enough connections to secure some sort of goods from Jabiim and enough contacts in Gala to sell them. Perhaps this is what was needed.

Corr pulled out the small photo of the girl. Hand drawn by himself. Holo pictures never suited this line of work, they never captured the detail quite right. It wasn't the best drawing on the planet, but a sketch that succeeded in mimicking the girls looks. "Her name is 'Sabine Grey'. Eleven years old. She went missing one night about three weeks back. Tracked her to some slimeball here, and got some more info." Corr started, sliding the picture to the Twi'lek woman. "I'm the best shot in this bar, and the smartest on on this planet. Though, sampling through the populous, I guess that ain't saying much." He gave a low chuckle. "However, you help me find her, I'll be your gunman. For free if that helps ya' any." Corr offered. The deal was advertised as a 'You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours' sort of thing.

He wasn't the smartest when it came to educated things. Ships, science, market trade were all just too much for him. He didn't need to know them. But he knew how people worked. People were easy to learn. Subtle hints, facial expression, tone of voice. It's been why he had been tossed out of one to many Sabacc games. Accused him of cheating. He took another long swig of the beer, finishing the drink and reached over, taking the small picture back. "So, it a deal?" He asked, picking his hat back up from the counter.

 

[Saria Messoa]

[member="Corr Starburner"]

Saria looked at the drawing with indifference. The world galaxy was a bad place and she was finding that out more and more all the time. There were so many people looking to take advantage of each other. And when they couldn't, they just killed each other. She had started out wanting to change that. Now Saria just accepted it as a part of the galaxy. Her initial reaction was to say no, even when he offered to help her for free. Charity never paid, it always bit her in the butt.

"I'll do it," said the farm girl inside her. It was the same farm girl who had left Qiilura believing that she could see the beauty of everything and help a few people. Saria guessed the old habits never died after all. If she could have taken it back, Saria would have.

She raised a finger, "Just, no matter what we find, good or bad, your gonna uphold your end of the bargain. Got it?"

Saria finished her beer off before swinging off the barstool. "Come on, I have an idea."

Saria swaggered out of the bar, into the street. They weren't too busy, thankfully. Saria easily ambled through the streets with the flow of the mediocre foot traffic. As she walked along, the buildings progressively got smaller, dingier, and in greater disrepair.

"There's an old depot at the edge of town used to sell off black market goods," she explained. "Think of it as a bazaar or a--well a market to the black market. Anything you can think of is there; weapons, spice, illegal tech, organs, anything really. If we're going to find her or someone who knows where she is, it'll be there."

She stopped. They stood outside a large blue metal building. It was dilapidated and held together by rust and patches of wooden planks. "No matter what you see, remember what we're here for."

She knew his type. Hero. They caused as much trouble as they solved on the job. Hooking her thumbs on her gunbelt, Saria made her way to the door. Two burly guards stood there, arms crossed with a menacing scowl across their faces.

"We're here for a good time not a long time," She whispered to one. The guard paused, looking them both over. Satisfied, he opened the door.

 

[Corr Starburner]

[member="Saria Messoa"]

Corr held up his hand in protest, and somewhat defense from the twi'leks beratement. "Whoa there. A deal's a deal." He said, telling the truth. But what she mentioned was a truth. These situations rarely had a happy ending. Only a few times did he actually find the person he was looking for. The trail ran too cold, not enough information, last place that they were heard from never existed. And other times he did find the person, more so sold into slavery or worse. He shook his head, clearing his mind of those kind of thoughts. He had to focus on finding the girl, alive.

Corr's spurs chinged with each step as the two walked. She spoke of an old depot that laid at the edge of town where goods and services, of the more illegal kind took place. Understanding he followed. There had to be someone who knew where either the girl was, or some sort of semblance of the gotal who had taken the girl. The building that was used was in great disrepair, most likely to keep it discreet from authorities, and more likely to keep up thematics. Corr chuckled. "Of course. Illegal goods and weapons all in one convenient place. What's the worst that could happen?" Corr joked along. Corr swallowed hard when the Twilek sauntered up to the door, and damn near demanded entrance. Corr followed close behind her, giving a gentle tip of his hat. "Gentlemen." He greeted them as he walked on through.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. It smelled of gun oil, rust, and a hint of blood. The air somehow managed to be both thick, and thin and differed on where you stood. His nose wrinkled as he tried to ignore the strong stench to no avail. He unhooked the strap on his holster, a precaution of sorts. He was quick on the draw, being able to react, draw his gun, and fire all within a second. And if he tried, he could do it in almost less than a fifth of that. The first shot was never accurate, and looking at most of the people here his bullets wouldn't do all that much. Armored targets were always an issue, at least when trying to down. He use a slug thrower and his bullets just managed to hit hard rather than pierce targets. "It's Corr." He said, trying to at the least introduce himself to the woman. "Corr Starburner. Your name?" He asked, trying at the least to get acquainted.

 

[Saria Messoa]

[member="Corr Starburner"]

Saria moved through the vendor alleys like a snake in the jungle. Beings around then were hustling, jostling as they did business from stall to stall. They bombarded the world with smells of filth and sights of a disgusting nature. But for Saria, there was another sense at play. She could feel the evil emotions and thoughts coming off everyone in the building.

As much as she tried to ignore it, she was still an empath. Saria wrapped a scarf from around her neck across her face to hide her scowl of disgust and pain.

She finally reached a small stall where a gray haired woman was hunched over a small table. The aged lady's cheeks were covered in wrinkles and sunken in. She wore rags that were little better than the tattered blanket she sat on. The woman gave the pair a toothless grin as she saw then coming closer. "Oh what a lovely couple. A credit for your fortune?"

"Can it, we're here for information." Saria spat out.

"What information can a tired old woman give to a sweet young--" her words were cut short as Saria grabbed the woman's throat and slammed her against the back of the wooden stall. Her form quickly changed into a clawdite's green reptilian face. "Ow! Alright, alright! What do you want?"

"Information, I know you have it, Mal. He's looking for a girl. You tell us where she is and it all will work out ok for you," Saria said coldly.

"And what makes you think I'd know anything?"

Saria gave him a hard shove back into the wall.

"Alright! Ok! I might know something. But everything costs something. And it depends on what you want to know." Mal said with a smirk.

Saria let the Clawdite go, motioning back to her partner. "He asks. He pays. That's how it goes. This ain't my joy ride."