Varro
Character
The work was not glamorous. That was one of the things Varro appreciated most about it. No one cared who he had once belonged to. No one cared what chains he had worn or what name had been attached to ownership records. Cargo did not care about a person's past. Shipping manifests did not ask uncomfortable questions. Freight schedules certainly did not concern themselves with old scars. A shipment either arrived where it was supposed to arrive or it didn't.
The simplicity appealed to him. Ra'a'mah's transport company operated across a broad stretch of space, carrying everything from commercial freight to humanitarian aid. Some weeks it was replacement machinery for mining colonies. Others it was food shipments for settlements struggling through poor harvests. Occasionally it was passengers needing transportation into regions larger companies deemed unprofitable.
It wasn't exciting. It was important. Varro found that he liked important. This assignment was a relief run. Veradune had assembled several shipments destined for Dellalt, a frontier world sitting in an increasingly uncertain region of the Outer Rim. Medical supplies occupied nearly a third of the cargo hold. Portable water purification systems filled another section. Agricultural equipment, prefab shelters, communications arrays, and emergency power generators filled the rest.
Nothing that would make anyone rich. Everything that could save lives. Dellalt itself wasn't particularly dangerous. The concern came from where it sat. The Mandalorian Empire's influence stretched across portions of nearby space. Ancient Sith worlds lingered further beyond. Trade routes shifted constantly. Border disputes flared without warning. Raiders and opportunists followed instability the way scavengers followed a battlefield.
Relief shipments were valuable. Valuable shipments attracted attention. Which explained why Ra had arranged additional security. Varro still wasn't entirely sure why she seemed so confident in this particular contractor. The file had been remarkably brief.
Name:
Shade
Species: Chiss.
Occupation: Independent Security Specialist.
That was it. No lengthy service history. No impressive military résumé. No explanation beyond a recommendation from someone Ra trusted. The lack of information bothered him slightly. Not enough to object. Just enough to remain curious.
The freighter emerged from hyperspace precisely on schedule. Blue light collapsed around the vessel as the stars reappeared. Ahead, Centares hung against the darkness of space, surrounded by the glittering web of orbital traffic moving between stations and planetary docking facilities.
Varro stood near the bridge viewport, datapad resting beneath one arm. The sight still impressed him. He doubted that would ever truly change. For much of his life, starships had represented uncertainty. A ship arriving often meant being sold. A ship departing usually meant leaving behind whatever familiarity he had managed to build.
Now ships represented something entirely different. Employment. Responsibility. A future.
The bridge crew exchanged approach vectors with local traffic control while hundreds of vessels navigated the crowded spacelanes around the planet.
"Receiving docking assignment."
"Vector confirmed."
"Traffic corridor locked."
The captain guided the freighter smoothly into the stream of incoming vessels. Everything proceeded routinely. Just the way cargo crews preferred it. As the planet grew larger beyond the viewport, Varro glanced down at his reflection in the transparisteel.
He barely resembled the man he had been a year ago. The vest was the first thing most people noticed. Black and durable, sleeveless and worn from honest labor, it hung open across his broad chest. Utility pockets lined the front, filled with styluses, inventory scanners, access keys, and other tools he'd accumulated since joining the company. The company identification patch sat over one breast, slightly faded from constant use.
Beneath it was nothing. At first the absence of a shirt had simply been practical. Freight work was hot, dirty labor. Eventually it had become preference. The green skin covering his muscular frame reflected his recent physical work. Long hours loading cargo, maintaining equipment, and moving supplies had built strength that no longer existed solely because someone else demanded it of him.
Brown cargo pants completed the outfit. Practical. Durable. Reinforced at the knees. The pockets carried tools, datapads, and enough odds and ends to solve most problems encountered aboard a freighter. Heavy work boots completed the ensemble. Nothing fancy. Nothing expensive. Everything earned.
The clothing fit him the same way the job did. Functional. Honest. His own. The thought brought a small smile to his face.
Atmospheric entry began shortly afterward. Cloud layers drifted beneath the ship as Centares' primary starport came into view. The facility sprawled across kilometers of durasteel platforms, landing towers, cargo depots, maintenance yards, and transit hubs. Hundreds of vessels occupied docking berths while thousands of beings moved between terminals.
The organized chaos felt strangely comforting. People working. Goods moving. The galaxy functioning.
Landing struts deployed with a mechanical thud. Repulsors engaged. Moments later the freighter settled onto its assigned pad with barely a tremor. Another successful leg completed. For now.
The instant the engines powered down, Varro got to work. First stop was the cargo hold. Crew members were already conducting routine inspections.
"Everything stable?" he asked.
One loader nodded. "No movement. No seal breaches."
"Good." Varro verified personally. Not because he distrusted the crew. Because responsibility felt better when confirmed firsthand. He moved methodically through the hold. Cargo restraints remained secure. Environmental systems remained green. Medical containers remained properly temperature controlled. Agricultural equipment remained exactly where it belonged. Every crate. Every seal. Every row. Perfect.
The inspection continued through engineering and logistics stations afterward. Fuel levels. Departure schedules. Maintenance reports. Crew readiness. Each received a quick review. The freighter could have departed immediately if necessary.
Satisfied, Varro finally reached the last item on his checklist. The Chiss. Shade. Their newest passenger. Possibly crew member. Possibly bodyguard. Possibly both.
The fact that he didn't know was becoming increasingly annoying. He checked the time on his datapad. If her transport had arrived according to schedule, she should already be somewhere inside the terminal complex. "Ship's yours while I'm gone," he told the nearby crew. "Try not to trash it before I get back."
A few chuckles followed him. That still felt strange. People laughing with him. The loading ramp descended with a hydraulic hiss. Warm air flooded the corridor. Beyond lay the immense starport of Centares.
Crowds moved in every direction. Dockworkers hauled freight. Security patrols monitored the terminals. Merchants argued over contracts. Travelers hurried toward departing vessels. Somewhere among them was a Chiss security specialist named Shade. A woman trusted enough by
Vulpesen
for
Ra'a'mah
to place aboard the shipment.A woman Varro knew absolutely nothing about. Stepping off the freighter, datapad tucked beneath his arm, he disappeared into the crowd in search of his mysterious new companion. The cargo run was still routine. At least for the moment.
VARRO
• Location: Starport, Muracie, Centares
• Objective: Obtain Security Agent for Supply Run
• Outfit: Cargo Work Attire
• Company: Crew of the ship.