Private Shadows over Corellia

[Jason Darklighter]

S H A D O W S
O V E R
C O R E L L I A

​

Another Taungsday passes and I am sitting here wondering what the hells I am still doing on this place.

Corellia.

A planet whose inhabitants claim to have jet fuel for blood and every freighter captain swears to be an ace pilot. They walk around with chips on their shoulders so big, it's a wonder they fit through the door. Then I remember how their planet got smashed decades ago and I wonder how those chips aren't any bigger.

We are right on the edge of High Republic Space. Some might say that is where civilization started, the Core.

Not anymore.

After the Galactic Alliance fell to the Empire, then the Empire suffered that catastrophe with a third Death Star, every Sith seemed to crawl out of the woodworks to run and play warlord in the Core. Every long hauler I talk to coming back from Core space has this look to them. Like they've looked into hells and seen death staring at them.

But that's why I am here.

A lot of Jedi went missing after the Alliance fell. You expect that in conflict, I guess. But these were not your average Jedi Knights. They were Shadows. The real deal. Way too smart and capable to be caught flat footed. Even by the Sith. Something did not feel right about it, and I am not just saying that because a lot of them were my friends from back in my days with the Corellian Security Force. Call it a gut feeling, but I'd rather trust that these days than anything on the holoscreens.

Which brings me back to here. This diner. Waiting.

Jason closed the journal entry and slid his datapad back into the pocket of his duster coat. He leaned back in the booth and looked around, umber gaze scanning the faces for any sign of his contact. It had been a while since he had been back on Corellia and his few remaining friends on CorSec were skeptical of the jobs he'd been taking out in the Rim. Private Investigator... for Hutts? He could already see the expressions of disgust on their faces.

Darklighter wondered if that would change when they saw the paychecks the Hutts had cut him. Of course most of that went to the debts he owed, but he was almost free of them.

Almost.

"What'll you have, hun?"

Jason looked up at the waiter. "Just caf, thanks."

"Sugar? Cream?"

"Nah."

"Here you go," the waiter poured him a mug and Jason picked it up and took a slow sip, the mild stimulant sparking clarity in his groggy eyes. Too many late nights.

"Thanks."

Solara Gale

 

[Solara Gale]

Whelp.

Didn't think she'd be haunting the familiar streets and alleyways of her home so soon. But her belt had become a little too loose. Sol was desperate for credits. Which made her desperate for a job. Shocking how hard it was to find employment without disclosing papers or her real name. Hesitating, half in the shadows of the broken-neon sign of Cabaret Cabana, her pale eyes landed on a well-dressed couple.

They were in the wrong side of town to be wearing those threads.

To think, she'd been one of them not too long ago.

A quiet shake of her head and with a jam of her cold fingers into the thrifted dark brown leather jacket, her brisk pace took her into the dim lighting of the Cafe. A slide of her boots quickly to the left as a glint from a screen caught her eye. Had there always been this many public cameras here? A quick glance at a datapad within the depths of her jacket pockets. Then a scan of her eyes around the room.

There he was.

Dark skin. Dark hair. Kiffar tattoo. And...tired...frustrated?

The empath couldn't help but pick-up on his feelings even if she didn't mean to.

A quick glance around the place to make sure this wasn't some jedi trap. Even after the fall of the Alliance and the temple, it wasn't like she still wasn't a fugitive. For the moment, she didn't feel any deception. Good enough for her. With a growl of her stomach, she stepped forward and slid into the seat across from Jason Darklighter .

"Hey," as if she'd known him her whole life. Fingers plucked up a sticky menu. That's what was good about this place. Things weren't all holo. They were things you could touch and feel. "Jason, right? I'm Sam." The lie was easy. Her stomach growling was not. "You're buying, right? You ever tried the nuna scramble?"

 

[Jason Darklighter]

In came the dame, trying to blend in with that thrifted jacket, but with a face that would never let her pass for a nobody. The hungover Gran at the diner’s bar suddenly became lucid and practically broke his neck with a three-eyed double-take.

Sure, Jason would have too if he wasn’t staring right at her. Beautiful, but dangerous. Like Coruscant at night. All that glitter, but beneath it… daggers.

He took a long, slow sip of his caf as he studied her before replying. It would be too noticeable to reach out and grab her jacket right then and there to see what her story really was. She would either assume he was tripping or know that he was using psychometry on her. And people didn’t tend to like that much. Especially people with something to hide.

So he did not reach out to shake her hand either, just watched her levelly.

“No, but one diner scramble is as good as the next.”

They probably had a giant vat of artificial liquid they made it from in the kitchen.

“And yeah, I’ll buy.”

Paying for meals was one of the easiest ways to get into good graces. But like the saying went, there was no such thing as a free lunch. He didn’t need to say it. She already knew.

“That accent. You grow up here or just spend too long planetside, Sam?” his eyes went to the small scar at the corner of her mouth. His brows creased. His own accent was the more rusty version of hers, having spent so long in the Corellian Security Force, though he had picked up a few Huttese colloquialism since then.

He suspected she wouldn’t answer truthfully, so he rolled into his next question anyway. “You think you can help with my missing Jedi problem?”

Solara Gale

 

[Solara Gale]

"You've got a good ear. 'Suppose you would have to in your line of work." A flicker of her gaze lingering a little too long on his tattoo before traveling back to the menu as the waiter approached. His question left unanswered. Trying not to look too eager but failing miserably Sol launched into her order as the waiter gave her a questioning look.

"That'll be all?"

"And a side of dewberry pie."

"Alright. Should be out soon, hun."

"Oh, can we make that a la mode?"

"Sure thing."

Handing off the menu, Sol leaned back in her chair, her eyes clashing against Jason's. A small frown tugged at the corner of her mouth. He was...restraining himself with something? She brushed that feeling aside. A clench of her jaw at his question. It was a dangerous place for jedi in the 'verse right now. The smart ones left went to the High Republic or somewhere VERY far away. Or just stayed dead. Knowing anything about those jedi was also dangerous. It's a good thing danger was her normal dance partner.

"You're not what I expected by the way. Different from what he mentioned." Her back left her chair as she leaned in a little, elbows propping up on the coffee-stained table. Voice lowered. "I've got some information. How many credits is it worth to you?"