Character
Ord Mantell was like one big karking junkyard. It was ugly as hell and kinda fricking cool.
Dag had always heard it was dangerous to travel on Ord Mantell if you didn’t know where you were going but Dagos didn’t feel the danger.
Well, that wasn't totally true. Dagos could feel the danger, it just didn’t bother him. No, it didn’t bother him at all. Actually, it made everything cooler. The atmosphere of this planet had Dagos all jazzed up. Not just the uneasy feeling of hostility and danger but the literal atmosphere of the world which turned the clouds a vibrant pink color. The difference between the ugly drab surface of the world and the sky was night and kriffing day.
Dagos’ eye kept drifting upward to spare a look at the atmospheric phenomenon. The thought that Dagos was some wonderstruck kid on his first vacation should be tossed to the side. Dagos was no kid, he was seventeen or he would be in like two weeks but chit, close enough right? Oh and he was a Jedi…sort of…well he was…or he had been…kinda, so Dagos had seen some stuff.
For whatever reason though he couldn’t help but look up every few minutes and marvel at the clouds through the skylight in the ceiling, while he sat in an overly luxurious booth of the very expensive restaurant he was visiting. A sharp snapping from across the table drew his eyes back down.
“Dagos, for Force sake pay attention, yeah?” Joran said.
Joran or Captain Del-Finn was an old friend of Dagos’ dad and one hell of a smuggler if half of his stories were true. He was older; in his fifties, with spots of gray in his goatee, his head was shaved bald. Sitting in the booth of one of Ord Mantells most expensive casino-restaurants, Joran didn’t look like a freight ship captain or smuggler. He wore a a suit straight from Epica that had to cost like five thousand credits at the low end.
“I am paying attention.” Dagos said, annoyed.
“What’d I say den?” Joran asked.
“What?”
“Repeat. My. Words. Back. To. Me.”
Dagos kissed his teeth in frustration.
“Fuggin exactly.” Joran said, the smug prick “pay attention.”
“I don’t understand why I can’t just work with you.” Dagos said, starting a very familiar argument
“What’ju don’t understand could fill the Jedi archives.” Joran said. “Don’t look at me like that.” Joran said when he caught Dagos' glance. “I already fuggin told ju din’t I? I don’t have crew. I don’t share credits.”
“What about the droids?” Dagos asked swiftly.
“The fuggin droids? What about em? Might as well ask me ‘what about the fuggin hydrospanner or or the force damn welding torch.’ They’re tools, droids are tools. Besides, dem don’t cost me no more den what it takes for upkeep. no food, no clothes, no share of the cut. Tools. Simple. How I fuggin like it, alright.”
Dagos kissed his teeth and rolled his eyes.
“For fug sake. is’Ju finna cry and whine every time you get an answer you don’t like?”
Joran took a cigarra from a metal vase he had stashed in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He took a second to play around with the smoke, rolling it between his fingers and taking a quick sniff before placing it between his lips and giving it a light.
“No,” Dagos said, sharply, a pout was starting to form on his face.
Wordlessly Joran held the metal case across the table offering Dagos a smoke. Dag took one at once, perking up a bit.
“You sure you’re done wiv the Jedi?” Joran asked as he leaned over and lit Dagos smoke for him. It was apparently time to rehash every argument the two had gotten into on the way to Ord Mantell from Coruscant.
“Man, fck that.” Dagos said.
“What about Jadar? He’s barely a Jedi, a wayseeker or some chit, yeah?”
“No. No way man. I’m done with that chit.”
“Yeah, alright den.”
Joran meant well. Dagos knew that. Dag had been pretty surprised when Joran offered to ask Jadar to take Dagos as an apprentice. Dag had met Jadar years before he had ever become a Jedi. Jadar had been the apprentice to a Jedi that Joran had fallen in love with and now Jadar and Joran were like brothers.
“Ju’don’t want to be a Jedi. Fine. Ju’want to be a smuggler you say. Fine. I like you Dag. I like you a lot. You’re a smart kid and tough as hell. You can be whatever you want to be and if I were your da, you sure a chit wouldn’t be 'ere.”
Dagos opened his mouth to interrupt but Joran cut him off.
“I’m not your fuggin da. Like I said you’re smart and your fuggin tough, you don’t take chit and you can be funny as hell. This line of work, if you take it serious and learn a thing or two… well hell you’re gonna be damn good at it. There’s no doubt in my fuggin mind and that’s why I let you come wiv me 'ere to this hive of scum and villainy, and it’s why I made contact wiv another captain I know who might need an extra hand”
“Thank you! Chit, Joran, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Tell me why you should be fortunate enough to join this crew if the offer is made to you.”
“What?”
“Are you fuggin deaf? I’m asking you. to tell me. What fuggin value are you? What help would you be on an ongoing basis?”
“I mean…”
Joran laughed “you thought what? You were gonna get hired on cuz I fuggin asked for it?”
“We’ll sort of.”
“Fuggin hell…”
“Uh…I… can fix chit…”
“You can fix chit?”
“…Yes!…and…uh…chit, I can fight like mutha sucka…plus I can use The Force, that’s gotta be helpful right?”
“It’s a start…”
The two men. One an aging smuggler who has seen too much of the galaxy and the other a young former Jedi desperate to see more sat together casually sipping their drinks and blowing smoke while they waited for Joran’s contact.
Sorr Kortu
and The Crew.
Dag had always heard it was dangerous to travel on Ord Mantell if you didn’t know where you were going but Dagos didn’t feel the danger.
Well, that wasn't totally true. Dagos could feel the danger, it just didn’t bother him. No, it didn’t bother him at all. Actually, it made everything cooler. The atmosphere of this planet had Dagos all jazzed up. Not just the uneasy feeling of hostility and danger but the literal atmosphere of the world which turned the clouds a vibrant pink color. The difference between the ugly drab surface of the world and the sky was night and kriffing day.
Dagos’ eye kept drifting upward to spare a look at the atmospheric phenomenon. The thought that Dagos was some wonderstruck kid on his first vacation should be tossed to the side. Dagos was no kid, he was seventeen or he would be in like two weeks but chit, close enough right? Oh and he was a Jedi…sort of…well he was…or he had been…kinda, so Dagos had seen some stuff.
For whatever reason though he couldn’t help but look up every few minutes and marvel at the clouds through the skylight in the ceiling, while he sat in an overly luxurious booth of the very expensive restaurant he was visiting. A sharp snapping from across the table drew his eyes back down.
“Dagos, for Force sake pay attention, yeah?” Joran said.
Joran or Captain Del-Finn was an old friend of Dagos’ dad and one hell of a smuggler if half of his stories were true. He was older; in his fifties, with spots of gray in his goatee, his head was shaved bald. Sitting in the booth of one of Ord Mantells most expensive casino-restaurants, Joran didn’t look like a freight ship captain or smuggler. He wore a a suit straight from Epica that had to cost like five thousand credits at the low end.
“I am paying attention.” Dagos said, annoyed.
“What’d I say den?” Joran asked.
“What?”
“Repeat. My. Words. Back. To. Me.”
Dagos kissed his teeth in frustration.
“Fuggin exactly.” Joran said, the smug prick “pay attention.”
“I don’t understand why I can’t just work with you.” Dagos said, starting a very familiar argument
“What’ju don’t understand could fill the Jedi archives.” Joran said. “Don’t look at me like that.” Joran said when he caught Dagos' glance. “I already fuggin told ju din’t I? I don’t have crew. I don’t share credits.”
“What about the droids?” Dagos asked swiftly.
“The fuggin droids? What about em? Might as well ask me ‘what about the fuggin hydrospanner or or the force damn welding torch.’ They’re tools, droids are tools. Besides, dem don’t cost me no more den what it takes for upkeep. no food, no clothes, no share of the cut. Tools. Simple. How I fuggin like it, alright.”
Dagos kissed his teeth and rolled his eyes.
“For fug sake. is’Ju finna cry and whine every time you get an answer you don’t like?”
Joran took a cigarra from a metal vase he had stashed in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He took a second to play around with the smoke, rolling it between his fingers and taking a quick sniff before placing it between his lips and giving it a light.
“No,” Dagos said, sharply, a pout was starting to form on his face.
Wordlessly Joran held the metal case across the table offering Dagos a smoke. Dag took one at once, perking up a bit.
“You sure you’re done wiv the Jedi?” Joran asked as he leaned over and lit Dagos smoke for him. It was apparently time to rehash every argument the two had gotten into on the way to Ord Mantell from Coruscant.
“Man, fck that.” Dagos said.
“What about Jadar? He’s barely a Jedi, a wayseeker or some chit, yeah?”
“No. No way man. I’m done with that chit.”
“Yeah, alright den.”
Joran meant well. Dagos knew that. Dag had been pretty surprised when Joran offered to ask Jadar to take Dagos as an apprentice. Dag had met Jadar years before he had ever become a Jedi. Jadar had been the apprentice to a Jedi that Joran had fallen in love with and now Jadar and Joran were like brothers.
“Ju’don’t want to be a Jedi. Fine. Ju’want to be a smuggler you say. Fine. I like you Dag. I like you a lot. You’re a smart kid and tough as hell. You can be whatever you want to be and if I were your da, you sure a chit wouldn’t be 'ere.”
Dagos opened his mouth to interrupt but Joran cut him off.
“I’m not your fuggin da. Like I said you’re smart and your fuggin tough, you don’t take chit and you can be funny as hell. This line of work, if you take it serious and learn a thing or two… well hell you’re gonna be damn good at it. There’s no doubt in my fuggin mind and that’s why I let you come wiv me 'ere to this hive of scum and villainy, and it’s why I made contact wiv another captain I know who might need an extra hand”
“Thank you! Chit, Joran, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Tell me why you should be fortunate enough to join this crew if the offer is made to you.”
“What?”
“Are you fuggin deaf? I’m asking you. to tell me. What fuggin value are you? What help would you be on an ongoing basis?”
“I mean…”
Joran laughed “you thought what? You were gonna get hired on cuz I fuggin asked for it?”
“We’ll sort of.”
“Fuggin hell…”
“Uh…I… can fix chit…”
“You can fix chit?”
“…Yes!…and…uh…chit, I can fight like mutha sucka…plus I can use The Force, that’s gotta be helpful right?”
“It’s a start…”
The two men. One an aging smuggler who has seen too much of the galaxy and the other a young former Jedi desperate to see more sat together casually sipping their drinks and blowing smoke while they waited for Joran’s contact.
Sorr Kortu
and The Crew.
