Post by Julio Weston on Mar 26, 2021 15:29:06 GMT
The Leafar Connection
Year 22, Day 119, 15:17:58
Two hours had gone by navigating the amber skies of Leafar. For the crew of the corvette with the blocky hull and gilded finish, much resembling a flying ingot of Aurodium, it seemed like an eternity, even more so than before. Everyone had a reason to be excited when they saw Hunter’s Landing in front of them through the bridge’s windows.
Kaz Elneck, a Naboo research scientist, would be getting back his freedom. He was allowed a few days off in the city, before going back to work processing the vast amounts of data that kept the hyperlines of the Alliance going, but it wouldn’t be any fun. For one, there were no casinos in Hunter’s Landing, like the one that got him into trouble to begin with, and even though there were lots of taverns, most of which were bound to have some "unofficial" games going on, he would have a hard time convincing Proconsul Bacca to pay him in advance ever again, considering what had happened last time.
As for Major Julio Weston, he looked nothing like the dead-eye in Republic armour that had duelled against all of his captors, each of them skilled shots themselves, back in the jungles of Munto Codru. Now, he sported an attire befitting of a nobleman, to go with the pristine aesthetic of the levitating city: an elegant blue three-piece suit with white shirt, gloves and tie, complete with an aurodium pin in the shape of his personal sigil. The owner of the ship and commander of the bounty hunting squad sat undisturbed in the captain’s chair, until one of the droids in charge of the commands, an ancient WA-7 unit, spoke to him.
- “Someone to see you, honey! Control tower, by the looks of him...” Weston was mildly annoyed by the droid’s cantina waitress act, sustained even after being informed of its new position as the ship’s communications officer. However, it was hardly their fault. The previous owner, a sketchy Nemoidian he had met at the last Galaxy Fest, had neglected the droid, then put it through an extensive memory wipe when it was time to sell it. The poor droid was still suffering its effects, periodically looping back to her factory defaults. Politely, he instructed the rare droid to transmit the data to the landing pad’s controller, and soon enough, the ship was cleared to dock inside. Proper maintenance should make her one hell of a comms officer, he thought.
Minutes later, Julio disembarked from the ship, now with its “wings” pointed upwards and struts sprouting from the hull to ground the YV-666 Light Freighter firmly in place. Behind him, a gray Squib listened to his orders. One could have said Weston was starting to rub off on his longtime friend Bruno, who was less interested than usual in getting hammered, 'borrowing' speeder bikes and going over budget with his Sabacc games, but never did quite make peace with the idea of leaving one of his many vices for good. This made Kaz enjoy his company better than Weston's, but the Major was wary not to let both of them loose together.
- "I'm going to make sure Professor Elneck here makes it to our Guild contact in one piece. You do what I told you, send one of each to that tower over there." Julio pointed his finger at one of the three high rise towers that decorated the skyline of Hunter's Landing.
- "Aye, aye, Captain..." Nyholm responded with a mock military salute, to spite his friend a little.
- "It's Major now. And Bruno…"
- "Yeah?"
- "I don't want to see another FC20 in my hangar, you hear? Let's go, Professor."
Year 22, Day 119, 15:17:58
Two hours had gone by navigating the amber skies of Leafar. For the crew of the corvette with the blocky hull and gilded finish, much resembling a flying ingot of Aurodium, it seemed like an eternity, even more so than before. Everyone had a reason to be excited when they saw Hunter’s Landing in front of them through the bridge’s windows.
Kaz Elneck, a Naboo research scientist, would be getting back his freedom. He was allowed a few days off in the city, before going back to work processing the vast amounts of data that kept the hyperlines of the Alliance going, but it wouldn’t be any fun. For one, there were no casinos in Hunter’s Landing, like the one that got him into trouble to begin with, and even though there were lots of taverns, most of which were bound to have some "unofficial" games going on, he would have a hard time convincing Proconsul Bacca to pay him in advance ever again, considering what had happened last time.
As for Major Julio Weston, he looked nothing like the dead-eye in Republic armour that had duelled against all of his captors, each of them skilled shots themselves, back in the jungles of Munto Codru. Now, he sported an attire befitting of a nobleman, to go with the pristine aesthetic of the levitating city: an elegant blue three-piece suit with white shirt, gloves and tie, complete with an aurodium pin in the shape of his personal sigil. The owner of the ship and commander of the bounty hunting squad sat undisturbed in the captain’s chair, until one of the droids in charge of the commands, an ancient WA-7 unit, spoke to him.
- “Someone to see you, honey! Control tower, by the looks of him...” Weston was mildly annoyed by the droid’s cantina waitress act, sustained even after being informed of its new position as the ship’s communications officer. However, it was hardly their fault. The previous owner, a sketchy Nemoidian he had met at the last Galaxy Fest, had neglected the droid, then put it through an extensive memory wipe when it was time to sell it. The poor droid was still suffering its effects, periodically looping back to her factory defaults. Politely, he instructed the rare droid to transmit the data to the landing pad’s controller, and soon enough, the ship was cleared to dock inside. Proper maintenance should make her one hell of a comms officer, he thought.
Minutes later, Julio disembarked from the ship, now with its “wings” pointed upwards and struts sprouting from the hull to ground the YV-666 Light Freighter firmly in place. Behind him, a gray Squib listened to his orders. One could have said Weston was starting to rub off on his longtime friend Bruno, who was less interested than usual in getting hammered, 'borrowing' speeder bikes and going over budget with his Sabacc games, but never did quite make peace with the idea of leaving one of his many vices for good. This made Kaz enjoy his company better than Weston's, but the Major was wary not to let both of them loose together.
- "I'm going to make sure Professor Elneck here makes it to our Guild contact in one piece. You do what I told you, send one of each to that tower over there." Julio pointed his finger at one of the three high rise towers that decorated the skyline of Hunter's Landing.
- "Aye, aye, Captain..." Nyholm responded with a mock military salute, to spite his friend a little.
- "It's Major now. And Bruno…"
- "Yeah?"
- "I don't want to see another FC20 in my hangar, you hear? Let's go, Professor."
15:25:22
It took Weston and Elneck less than ten minutes to reach Qulok's Fist Cantina. Julio left a silver Relby K-23 pistol in the hands of the cloakroom attendant, but snuck one of his golden 22T4 holdout blasters through the frisk, never one to entrust his safety to someone else. To the tune of the Togrutan on top of the stage, who sang a melancholic ballade, they made their way to one of the booths with a large, semi-circular bench. A deceptively old-looking Duros sat right in the middle, dressed in lavish green robes and nodding off to the jingle, until the presence of the Corellian and the Naboo brought him back to his senses. Smugly, he greeted the hunter and his guest, prompting them to sit on the cushioned bench with him. Once they did, he pressed a button on the table, which closed the iron curtains to give the three of them some privacy.
- “Associate Hunter Weston! It is pleasant to see you in good shape after what went down in Munto Codru… Some were betting on you turning up dead when I sent you against Swa-Lu Shysa, but I always knew you’d make it out alive, if nothing else.”
- “He might just have been better than me with a sniper rifle. Too bad one of my men had to come up to him and poke his eye with an arrow, right as he was about to line up a shot on me.”
- “An arrow?” The Duros contact was puzzled, and stopped trying to grab a death stick from under the table to give him a look.
- “Ahh, you know how those Ewoks are." The brief explanation was enough for the Guild contact, who reached for the durasteel syringe once again while Julio added, "I brought the bounty, too.”
- “You did? As much as I’d like to believe Tirze owes me a mil, he looks nothing like the picture...”
- “He had his ID made on his one sober day of the year. Heh. Scan his chain code.”
Grunting, Guild Contact Bellis gestured towards Kaz, whose wrist was unexpectedly grabbed by a black HK protocol droid, holding a scanner of sorts. Having seen his rescuees being startled by the droid before, as it blended in the darkness with ease, Julio put his hand over the professor's shoulder.
- "Settle down. It's been jumpy ever since they got rid of the pacifist module. One sudden move, even Bell gets a bolt to the eyeballs."
- "What can I say? If your bodyguard trusts anyone, even yourself, it's not doing its job right." Bellis was promptly approached by the droid, to show him a perfect match for Kaz's chain code. "Well, I think you've finally proved yourself. Congratulations, Associate Hunter… from now on, you can show Saila behind the counter your credentials, and you could take something interesting off her hands every now and then."
- "What can I say. It is an honor."
- "Save that shit for your day job. Take these…" Bell said, putting roughly a million and two hundred thousand credits on the table for Julio to take and opening the metallic curtains to let them out of the booth. "... and get lost. Some Twi'lek babes will be coming around any minute now and you're not invited."
Afterwards, finally free to leave Kaz to his own devices, however self-destructive they may be, the newly designated Associate Hunter walked over to the bar. A blonde Kiffar with a green diagonal stripe on her face was taking care of the customers efficiently. Patiently, Julio sat in one of the empty stools and waited until it was his turn to order. Soon enough, the bartender spoke to him.
- "You don't strike me as a Corellian Ale type…" Saila told him, using a rag to clean up a stain from the wooden counter.
- "Tastes too much like home. Nah, it's a special night. I'm finally in the Guild."
- "Ooh, nice… you're gonna want a shot of the Stuff, then. For luck."
- "No, thanks. I'm coming off the drink. Bell said you might have a line into some… collectibles."
- "Heh. We're almost outta stock, but there are still a pair of Dresselian rifles. Gonna set you back 120 grand each. Incredibly rare heirlooms. Perfect collectibles, what do you say?"
- "Yeah, I've had my fill of weapons a while ago. Pass." Weston thought for a moment, before some old, dusty droids behind Saila piqued his interest. "What about the droids?"
- "Oh, those. Anybody can buy that junk. They came with Bell's assassin droid, group deal. Problem is, we don't have any use for those so… we're looking for a buyer. We don't care if they're in the Guild."
- "You just found one." A wide grin in his face, Julio presented the Kiffar with the money Bellis had given him. "Name a price."
That night, the cadets Weston had entrusted with patrolling the city could be seen loading droids inside a Kettrifee Air Mover. An outdated astromech, a quadrupedal artillery droid, a malfunctioning lookout droid that would not shut up about the 'intruders', an oversized vacuum cleaner and finally, two Republic-era medical droids.