Juniper Jett
Defying Gravity
The biggest problem with the Galaxy nowadays? Was it war? No. Poverty? No way. The potential destruction of the planet you're standing on? Not even.
Taxes. Taxes sucked hard. Freshly incorporating her own minor transport company, JunieCorp, had been totally awesome. Less awesome was the bill that arrived a few short weeks after, demanding company tax payments. Dreams of expanding her tiny little transport firm had been strangled by the imminent arrival of revenuemen. She could theoretically flip the bird at them all and disappear into the black. It'd be incredibly satisfying but exceedingly dumb. You couldn't escape taxes forever. Besides, where would she get her work if she couldn't venture into the Core?
So that was how Juniper Jett, soon-to-be captain of note, found herself in a Coruscant spaceport yet again, hunting for work. She'd put up the usual notices on the Holonet and boards, advertising cheap, clean and reliable transport across the known Galaxy. She'd also put out notices on the less-than-legal avenues, advertising her ship's capacity for hiding goods and her well-proven capacity for keeping her damn mouth shut. They all ended the same way:
Something. Anything. Please, I got bills to pay. Or I'm gonna murder the tax man. Maybe getting married would've been a better idea.
Juniper frowned and shuddered.
The hell is wrong with me? If I think that again, I need to be punched. Hard.
Taxes. Taxes sucked hard. Freshly incorporating her own minor transport company, JunieCorp, had been totally awesome. Less awesome was the bill that arrived a few short weeks after, demanding company tax payments. Dreams of expanding her tiny little transport firm had been strangled by the imminent arrival of revenuemen. She could theoretically flip the bird at them all and disappear into the black. It'd be incredibly satisfying but exceedingly dumb. You couldn't escape taxes forever. Besides, where would she get her work if she couldn't venture into the Core?
So that was how Juniper Jett, soon-to-be captain of note, found herself in a Coruscant spaceport yet again, hunting for work. She'd put up the usual notices on the Holonet and boards, advertising cheap, clean and reliable transport across the known Galaxy. She'd also put out notices on the less-than-legal avenues, advertising her ship's capacity for hiding goods and her well-proven capacity for keeping her damn mouth shut. They all ended the same way:
Contact Juniper Jett today! No job too small. No cargo too heavy.
JunieCorp: Going Places!
It was her first attempt at a slogan. You can tell, she thought to herself, checking the notices. Sat on a chair outside her ship, lazily people-watching as she thumbed through a holobook. The Hunky Princes of Serenno wasn't holding her attention anymore. She found the title awfully misleading. Besides, she was hoping that one of those random people would come over and ask for some work. JunieCorp: Going Places!
Something. Anything. Please, I got bills to pay. Or I'm gonna murder the tax man. Maybe getting married would've been a better idea.
Juniper frowned and shuddered.
The hell is wrong with me? If I think that again, I need to be punched. Hard.