Pastels of orange and yellow stretched across the sky as the sun receded behind the trees. Wrynn watched the gorgeous twilight from his perch atop the citadel in Izable, the foremost defensive outpost that defended the Intergalactic Communications Center. Praesitlyn long stood as one of the key strategic points in the Sluis sector, and indeed most of the galaxy, but it was also renown as a hive for mercenaries. Their defense of the world and holding of it had endeared them to the Alliance, who maintained mutually beneficial relations with the reborn Freedom's Sons company and allowed them to retain residence there.
The nights when Wrynn was not on a job were spent on the front line of an ancient battle, in a place where no one had brought war for over 900 years. He had a great deal of appreciation for that lengthy peace, but even more for the uncertain times that made a wonder like Izable possible. Towering high above the other fortifications, the citadel was born in a time before planetary shields were an afterthought. "You're looking thoughtful, Wrynn," a gentle voice prodded him, "what's on your mind?"
His gaze wandered over to the smiling blonde, her low cut dress a bit out of place for a military outpost. The mercenary looked back over the rest of the caf restaurant and considered how businesses adapted to the times. She was a product of the peace, same as outsourcing to the Alliance for work. "Just thinking of fortifying the planet a bit more, you know?" he pondered aloud. Her smile softened a bit, and she tilted her head. "What if war does come to Praesitlyn again? These times aren't like the old days. It's nastier out there. There are things that..."
Wrynn trailed off as he recalled the death of Eddie, and of the poor sods on Keres I only a stone's throw away. He recalled the image of a child who he had to shoot between the eyes ingrained forever into his memory. "There are things out there, Syl, that shouldn't be." The dirty blonde man managed a weak smile as he produced a credit chip and offered it to her. "Sorry, I know I've got to cash out soon, right?"
"Oh, no, stay as long as you like," she waved him off with a laugh. "It's not often we get visitors between guard changes. It stays pretty dead around here, even though we're always open." She studied his clothes for a moment, and the way he carried himself with that rifle even when he was not on a mission. Wrynn was a card carrying merc, legally permitted to carry open or concealed on any world as long as he kept registered. That made him a tough customer, so far as most folks were concerned.
Syl Tali had always thought the world of the man. Wrynn was the sort of man who did the right thing, even when it was hard. He had a gruff exterior, and it was difficult to get along with him, but she did her best to see past that. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he glanced back at her smiling face. "You think about combat more than anyone I know," she told him honestly, "even more than the higher ups who pop in every now and then. They take time off from the battlefield and let their minds have a rest. I've never heard you talk about anything else."
Wrynn glanced toward her and patted his helmet on the table. "You know, Syl, when I was sixteen, I lost both my eyes in a freak accident."
"What?" she asked in disbelief. She leaned closer and stared into both his eyes, then furrowed her brow. "No way, I don't believe you," she shook her head. "Are you making fun of me, Tobias Wrynn?"
"Not at all," he replied. "These are cybernetic retinal implants set in a donor's eyes." As he spoke, she saw a string of strange numbers flash across his retinas and yelped as she backed up. "I decided that day that I'd never let anyone else be a victim like I was. It started that way, I wanted to be a soldier, see," Wrynn gestured toward the hollow corpse of a battlefield that once upon a time was venue for the separatists and Republic. "but I wasn't compatible based on Republic Standards. You can't join if you don't have your natural body parts intact, or a waiver for registered cybernetics."
"Registered?" she blinked. "What, you mean yours are unregistered?"
"They're the only ones of their kind," he explained. "I'm outfitted with something that never went on the market, and because of that, the galactic standard for what I can see or do is not defined. Because they can't gauge that without taking my word for it, I can't get them certified. It's a lot of red tape, and I'm not interested."
"So it discouraged you from even trying," she said in an almost sad voice.
"It did," he agreed, "but more than that, I held on to that resentment as I came to Praesitlyn for the first time and found out what it meant to be a Merc. It doesn't hurt to help people, and it's even better to make money while you're doing it. I found a way to turn my passion into a fruitful business."
"I get it!" she clapped excitedly, "so you really love what you do. That's amazing!" Her smile was brighter than before, and Wrynn had to let himself laugh at her child-like enthusiasm. "So that must be why you obsess over tiny things, like defenses and combat."
Wrynn grinned. "Sounds about right," he placed the credit chip down on the table and pointed out toward the skyline. "The way I see it, the Intergalactic Communications Center is one of the most important places in the galaxy solely because it helps coordinate every signal that the Alliance uses. All of its technicians are burning their candles at both ends just to make sure everyone stays connected. This place is a hot spot that every Sith, Terrorist, or Criminal in the galaxy would love to light up with turbolasers."
Syl clapped a hand over her mouth. "I've never thought about that," she gasped. "You're right!"
Wrynn nodded. "Yeah, isn't that a terrifying thought?" he asked. "Don't worry, though. We can get the necessary parts and tools, and then we'll have this place modified for modern warfare in no time."
"I guess the Freedom's Sons are really lucky to have a guy like you around, aren't they?" she beamed. It felt much safer when she considered someone like Wrynn thought about little things like this. Maybe he wasn't the first or the only one either. She glanced out over the mass of trees toward where the last vestiges of sunlight were ebbing away. "It's really gorgeous, isn't it?" her voice grew softer as she leaned close to his ear.
Wrynn nodded. "Things like this," he said, "are things I want to protect."
The nights when Wrynn was not on a job were spent on the front line of an ancient battle, in a place where no one had brought war for over 900 years. He had a great deal of appreciation for that lengthy peace, but even more for the uncertain times that made a wonder like Izable possible. Towering high above the other fortifications, the citadel was born in a time before planetary shields were an afterthought. "You're looking thoughtful, Wrynn," a gentle voice prodded him, "what's on your mind?"
His gaze wandered over to the smiling blonde, her low cut dress a bit out of place for a military outpost. The mercenary looked back over the rest of the caf restaurant and considered how businesses adapted to the times. She was a product of the peace, same as outsourcing to the Alliance for work. "Just thinking of fortifying the planet a bit more, you know?" he pondered aloud. Her smile softened a bit, and she tilted her head. "What if war does come to Praesitlyn again? These times aren't like the old days. It's nastier out there. There are things that..."
Wrynn trailed off as he recalled the death of Eddie, and of the poor sods on Keres I only a stone's throw away. He recalled the image of a child who he had to shoot between the eyes ingrained forever into his memory. "There are things out there, Syl, that shouldn't be." The dirty blonde man managed a weak smile as he produced a credit chip and offered it to her. "Sorry, I know I've got to cash out soon, right?"
"Oh, no, stay as long as you like," she waved him off with a laugh. "It's not often we get visitors between guard changes. It stays pretty dead around here, even though we're always open." She studied his clothes for a moment, and the way he carried himself with that rifle even when he was not on a mission. Wrynn was a card carrying merc, legally permitted to carry open or concealed on any world as long as he kept registered. That made him a tough customer, so far as most folks were concerned.
Syl Tali had always thought the world of the man. Wrynn was the sort of man who did the right thing, even when it was hard. He had a gruff exterior, and it was difficult to get along with him, but she did her best to see past that. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he glanced back at her smiling face. "You think about combat more than anyone I know," she told him honestly, "even more than the higher ups who pop in every now and then. They take time off from the battlefield and let their minds have a rest. I've never heard you talk about anything else."
Wrynn glanced toward her and patted his helmet on the table. "You know, Syl, when I was sixteen, I lost both my eyes in a freak accident."
"What?" she asked in disbelief. She leaned closer and stared into both his eyes, then furrowed her brow. "No way, I don't believe you," she shook her head. "Are you making fun of me, Tobias Wrynn?"
"Not at all," he replied. "These are cybernetic retinal implants set in a donor's eyes." As he spoke, she saw a string of strange numbers flash across his retinas and yelped as she backed up. "I decided that day that I'd never let anyone else be a victim like I was. It started that way, I wanted to be a soldier, see," Wrynn gestured toward the hollow corpse of a battlefield that once upon a time was venue for the separatists and Republic. "but I wasn't compatible based on Republic Standards. You can't join if you don't have your natural body parts intact, or a waiver for registered cybernetics."
"Registered?" she blinked. "What, you mean yours are unregistered?"
"They're the only ones of their kind," he explained. "I'm outfitted with something that never went on the market, and because of that, the galactic standard for what I can see or do is not defined. Because they can't gauge that without taking my word for it, I can't get them certified. It's a lot of red tape, and I'm not interested."
"So it discouraged you from even trying," she said in an almost sad voice.
"It did," he agreed, "but more than that, I held on to that resentment as I came to Praesitlyn for the first time and found out what it meant to be a Merc. It doesn't hurt to help people, and it's even better to make money while you're doing it. I found a way to turn my passion into a fruitful business."
"I get it!" she clapped excitedly, "so you really love what you do. That's amazing!" Her smile was brighter than before, and Wrynn had to let himself laugh at her child-like enthusiasm. "So that must be why you obsess over tiny things, like defenses and combat."
Wrynn grinned. "Sounds about right," he placed the credit chip down on the table and pointed out toward the skyline. "The way I see it, the Intergalactic Communications Center is one of the most important places in the galaxy solely because it helps coordinate every signal that the Alliance uses. All of its technicians are burning their candles at both ends just to make sure everyone stays connected. This place is a hot spot that every Sith, Terrorist, or Criminal in the galaxy would love to light up with turbolasers."
Syl clapped a hand over her mouth. "I've never thought about that," she gasped. "You're right!"
Wrynn nodded. "Yeah, isn't that a terrifying thought?" he asked. "Don't worry, though. We can get the necessary parts and tools, and then we'll have this place modified for modern warfare in no time."
"I guess the Freedom's Sons are really lucky to have a guy like you around, aren't they?" she beamed. It felt much safer when she considered someone like Wrynn thought about little things like this. Maybe he wasn't the first or the only one either. She glanced out over the mass of trees toward where the last vestiges of sunlight were ebbing away. "It's really gorgeous, isn't it?" her voice grew softer as she leaned close to his ear.
Wrynn nodded. "Things like this," he said, "are things I want to protect."