First Reply Hope for Work and Joyless Leisure

[Juniper Jett]

Commenor
Silver Jedi Space

"Would you like more, captain?"

Juniper looked at her glass. Maybe if she stared hard enough, the sickly sweet liquid would transmute into some kind of alcohol. She didn't even particularly like alcohol, but it felt like that sort of desperate day.

"No, no thanks. That's enough for me." She pushed the glass away, back towards the lackey. He took it, giving her a half-glare that Juniper could've easily bested if she were in the mood. What was wrong with her? She couldn't even bring herself to argue with snide guys in cheap cantinas. Where had the fire gone? What'd happened to the confidence? The excitement? The vim and vigour of the freelance captain's life? Cut-throat business, flying across the stars for any sights you want to see, taking work wherever and whenever you could find it.

Hard bloody work, all of it.

Suffice to say that it'd been a smidge harder than she'd expected. Passengers came and went, giving her enough creds to live on for a while. They were the only reliable source of income at the moment. She'd been on her way back up the front with the Bryn, hoping to find more desperate citizens loaded up with credits who needed a quick escape to more peaceful parts of the Galaxy. All before her fuel-line busted and the Snicket started spurting starship fuel all over the damn infinite cosmos.

Wasn't like she could find much decent work here anyway. Too built-up, too busy, too 'official' to have much in the way of her kind of work. Too much law or Jedi presence to get quick smuggling jobs. She'd have to dig deeper into the underworld and she knew her limits. Crime might've paid if you were a twenty-ton Hutt, but slender slips of starship captains tended to end up on the wrong side of the deal.

So there she was. In a dull little cantina just a little aways from the spaceport, in a huff. Down. Grumpy. Mildly miffed.

"Actually, I would like another. A sparkling juice. The sweetest one you've got and pour some sugar in it," she called out, flicking open her pouch to grab some more credits. "And I want some mashed potatoes. Extra butter. And cheese on top." Finger pointed right at him to show she was serious. Carbs would make everything better, at least for about twenty minutes.

Maybe, in the time it takes me to eat, a mysterious rich idiot will come in needing a ride. Or a bar of purest gold will slam through the roof and onto the table.

 

[Hans Rennagen]

Commenor was Jedi space. Silver Jedi. Not the type of people who'd recognize an Imperial Knight immediately, but not the type he'd he want to blow his cover around.

But Commenor was the end that chartered flights would take him. No pilots wanted to fly towards Bryn space, and none wanted to fly straight into it. But Hans would need to find someone who could. For the first time in over a decade he was returning home. A home that could be destroyed when he got there.

He wandered into the cantina, hooded in a brown cloak, to find a pilot crazy or desperate to accept his money for a suicide mission. He'd done this before, hiring this kind of pilot, but the last time had been with Muuns. Much more straightforward than Humans.

He began to case the area and ask around. Someone was bound to hear of the crazy task he was requesting...

Juniper Jett

 

[Juniper Jett]

As she picked through her mashed potatoes (a little heavy on the butter, come to think of it), murmurs started travelling through the cantina. Mentions of a 'job.'

Big deal. Always a job that someone wants doing. Usually some bozo who thinks you should be paying them for the privilege of taking their supplies somewhere. Screw him.

But they kept growing. Didn't seem like this was a normal job at all. She heard some Devaronian laugh and slap his friend on the back, muttering about some 'suicide mission.' The Rodian beside him shook his head too, as some of the old-timers and other assembled pilots grimaced at the idea of it. The details floated over to her.

Bryn-space. Hm. Wasn't I just thinking of that? She'd done a run near Bryn space in the last month. It'd been dicey, with a particularly inquisitive bounty hunter. She weighed over the pros and cons in her head. It'd be risking her life, her livelihood and most importantly, her ship. The Bryn were genocidal monsters that would kill everyone and everything, with no regard for plucky captains who needed money.

However... she kinda needed that money.

Juniper stood from the booth, moving a little more into the din. Following the chatter, she saw the hooded guy, still looking around. She tried to eye him up, see if he looked like he'd have some good credits. No idea. Could be rich. Could be insane. Could be both.

She stepped up towards him, right into his view.

"Hi. I hear you're looking to fly near Bryn space?" she asked, trying to fix her best 'confident' smile. "I did a run out by Raxus like, a month ago or so. What're you looking to do?"

Hans Rennagen

 

[Hans Rennagen]

A swift succession of rejections followed his entry. Even the almighty credit was beginning to waver in the face of the Draelvasier. Eyes were beginning to draw towards him as the pilots all scoffed at his seemingly ridiculous request. As he turned away from the Devaronian and Rodian, who he though for sure would be the last people he could ask, he came face to face with an eager looking young woman.

"I did a run out by Raxus like, a month ago or so. What're you looking to do?"

"Really?" he was surprised, but also relieved to here it was possible. He wasn't sure if fate had brought him into contact with someone who could get him home, or if this was just lucky happenstance .

"Would you be willing to go again? I'm looking to get to Raxus Secundus. Quickly, in and out if I can help it. I can pay you well."

She was a far cry from the rest of the spacers in the joint. Young and not quite grizzled-looking enough for what Hans considered a typical spacer. Then again, these weren't people he'd dealt with much in his life as a nobleman. Even imprisoned by the Sith he'd still been surrounded by political dissidents like himself.

Juniper Jett

 

[Juniper Jett]

"Really?"

No, I just sit around spacer cantinas, making outlandish claims for strange men. What do you think?

Juniper bit back the snark, though, lest she scare off a potential client. Something about his tone and cadence seemed off, not like most people looking to hire rides in a cantina. Especially not to one of the hottest warzones in the Galaxy.

"Raxus Prime the last time, Secundus shouldn't be too big a deal." Though the zone had flared up again of late, with the Bryn looking to gobble up more and more planets. He did mention he wanted it done quickly.

"How much pay are we talking?" she asked. She was vaguely curious why the heck he would be that desperate to hit a warzone, though beggars can't be choosers. "I can do it for the right price."

Hans Rennagen

 

[Hans Rennagen]

"I can pay you the combat wages of an Imperial Knight, plus a little extra for the risk. As long as you don't tell anyone about me, especially the Silver Jedi."

The New Imperial Order and Silver Jedi concord weren't on good terms, and he wasn't sure what they'd do to him if they found him.

"I understand this isn't very safe or easy, but I can also offer you protection if we encounter any Bryn'adul." he hoped he sounded convincing enough, but he wasn't going to draw his lightsaber in the middle of a bar to make that point. He was paid well enough, and he didn't spend much of it on a regular day so he had the credits to spare.

Juniper Jett