Come Fly With Me

[Herrith Hendarsin]

@The Captain
Ah, it was bloody good to be back.

Ord Mantell. Nice place, all things considered. Incredible contrast from the Outer Rim dirtholes she'd been to before. Tatooine was the crown, though. But the drinks here were pretty damn great. And the music wasn't too terrible, either. Much better than the Core World New Wave kriff that had been showing up.

She was seated at the bar counter, a bottle of whiskey enclosed within her hands and a smile on her face. Part of her deep purple hair was over her eyes, but that wasn't the issue. In fact, quite the benefit. Nobody seemed to be staring at her or trying to kidnap her, a rare moment of security in a public place. And my, the commotion was beautiful. Bottles smashing against heads here and there. Perfect. It staved off anxiety, knowing that everyone was acting normal. Bloody brilliant.

Despite this brief pleasure, there was a wee problem, which was the reason she was here:

Her fuel cells were depleted, so it just so happened she was stuck here till the next job came round where she could afford some astro gas to get her gliding again. But for now, she had enough credits to fuel a decent drinking streak. Hopefully. She scoffed and took another swig of whiskey before setting the bottle down and checking the familiar feel of a knife hilt just past her wrist as a poor human's face was dragged across the counter, stopping just before her. The alien holding him down brought up a toothy smile, which she returned before handing her now empty bottle to the human as a blunt object to have a slim chance in the one sided fight. Gonna be a joy to watch. Unless it ended in a blaster fight. Nah, this place was too good for that. Damn.

 

[Daesha Keever]

Ah, the Cruel Mistress, Woldport's premier trough where the scum of Ord Mantell gathered to enjoy cheap swill and food that could only be described as 'edible'. It had become a favorite of Daesha's ever since she arrived on the junk capital of the Mid Rim, and she frequented the establishment for gossip, contracts, and booze. She was leaning more toward the latter this time around, pushing through the double doors at the entrance to find a bar fight had started up in the middle of the floor. Now, Old Porky was usually pretty lax on bar fights as long as you paid for the damages afterward and nobody died. Bodies were a pain to move and the chemicals to get blood off of duracrete were expensive. So, nonchalantly dodging around the fight the Twi'lek made her way over to the counter and whistled down the ancient Ugnaught in the cheap suit, tottering behind the counter on a sort of rolling construction platform. Ah, the woes of being vertically challenged.

"What's the good word, Porky?" She asked, engaging in the customary exchange of credits and her favorite rum. There truly was nothing like a place that knew your name.

"Not much, been a little sparse this week on jobs, Blue. But that little pink number at the end of the bar has been here a little too long for it to be an afternoon drink, and if she's a boozehound she's functioning. Might want to check her out." The pig grunted, nodding toward the Zeltron woman sitting down the bar. She certainly had the bearing of a criminal, and the ratty attire, so sliding down the counter and starting up a convo couldn't hurt.

"Stay beautiful, Porky." Daesha snarked, moving down the counter toward the Zeltron, taking an open seat next to her. "Can't say I've ever seen you in here before. What brings you out to Ord Mantell?"

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

She hardly reacted as the blue-skinned woman slid next to her and spoke, apparently trying to strike up a conversation, or so it seemed. She'd noticed the little conversation between the barkeep and the Twi'lek. Probably trying to get her out, guess she was staying here too long. Oops. Best say something before she got kicked out or got into a fight with who appeared to be the bar favorite. The fight between the reptilian and the human still went on. So much for a show. The Zeltron brushed hair out of her eyes and turned to face the Twi'lek, who wasn't too bad looking, at least for a noodlebrain.

She shrugged and replied in a slightly hoarse voice reminiscent of Corellian.
"Caught me there, love. Just here till I scrape up enough credits to get moving again. If I'm bein' kicked out, I'll gladly leave. But that whiskey isn't bad, you get me?"

 

[Daesha Keever]

"You need credits, eh?" Well, this had just gotten interesting. "What a coincidence, 'cause pretty soon I'm going to need someone to give credits too. Maybe we could work something out?" The Zeltron had a certain swagger to her, some unspoken confidence akin to a Corellian or a Nar Shaddan. Often a trait developed by criminals, particularly smugglers or podracers, the kind of scum that lived off adrenaline without rampant murder. She liked it.

"How about I cover the next round and we have a chat?"

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

The pink-skinned woman tilted her head slightly in interest as the Twi'lek brought up the topic of credits and explained that she had some that she could offer. Sounded interesting. Wasn't every day that someone showed up and essentially offered up free credits. Free was relative, though, as sad as that was. But, in the end, the woman did offer to pay for the next round. A drink's a drink, after all. The Zeltron smiled, replying.

"Sounds fine to me. I'm always up for a round. Or five."

She crossed her arms over her chest and relaxed slightly, feeling a bit more comfortable in her current company. It wasn't often that there was someone willing to talk without wanting anything from it, and that felt good. The nausea encircling her brain eased slightly, emotions actually beginning to make her feel a bit better. Which was rare in the scum planets that she was used to. The weight of being nauseated had been something she was used to for a long time, but now that it was gone it felt pretty damn nice.

"So, what did you want to talk about, eh? I got a few talents here and there."

 

[Daesha Keever]

"Lets not get carried away." Daesha was all fine and dandy paying for one round of booze, but that was it. She wasn't made of credits after all, even if she was offering to give the Zeltron a potential job. Daesha waved down a server droid behind the counter, causing the convoluted contraption to lurch over to the duo, dropping off another of the Zeltron's drinks and a bottle of Mynock-brand Corellian rum, the Twi'lek's drink of choice. After exchanging the proper credits Daesha took the bottle and popped the cap off, turning to the Zeltron.

"And what might those talents be, Ms..?" She left her question hanging to encourage the mystery woman to give her name first.

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

Her smile grew a little wider as the Twi'lek waved down a droid, which caused the Zeltron to flinch a bit as it leaned over. Nervous habit, a bit too used to getting into fights, as sad as that fact was. The whiskey she was drinking was set down and credits were exchanged before the blue skinned lady asked her what exactly those skills were, along with a bit of a hint at trying to get a name. Alright, here comes the brief list. Let's not get too carried away.

"Ms. Herrith. Don't gotta worry about the name my family shares, that isn't too important. To answer your question, I smuggle, steal, shoot, escort, fly, dance, and do just about anything illegal or slightly legal you could think of. Except for slicing, I'm not that smart. And yes, I do mean almost anything. Fees increase based on the job, though. I have some morals left. What were you thinkin' of hiring me for?"

She popped off the cap of her bottle and looked at it, also smelling it as she took a swig to make sure she wasn't being kidnapped. Or poisoned. That just ain't fun. But this lady seemed respectable enough. The bottle lowered and the woman spoke again.

"And your name is?"

 

[Daesha Keever]

That was certainly an impressive repertoire, although Daesha was sure that some portion of that list had to be false, if not embellished. It was a common practice in the galactic underworld where most people didn't exactly have a resume or references to give, lying about your credentials and all that. She'd done it more than once so it was hard to judge now being on the receiving end of the bantha-kark. Daesha watched as the Zeltron, Ms. Herrith, uncorked her bottle and tested it for any sort of poison or sleeping drugs first. A wise policy, one that Daesha practiced whenever she went to a new bar, since Twi'leks and Zeltrons were currently competing for first place in the 'Who do Hutts like to kidnap the most?' contest.

"Ms. Herrith, eh? Captain Daesh'afenn. And yes, I own a ship so I technically count as a captain." She paused to quickly pour out a small glass of her rum. "That's quite the repertoire, Ms. Herrith, and I'm going to need all of it for what I have in mind." Another brief lull came into their conversation as Daesha gunned her first stinging, sugary shot of rum.

"I want to start a little...free trade organization. A guild of sorts for 'independent traders' like us." Well, it was all on the table, at this point Herrith would either hear her out or throw whiskey on her.

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

Herrith decided to try and listen despite her more advances instincts telling her to just get out of here. The Twi'lek owned a ship, with a crew that was...debatably real, and apparently needed a jack of all trades such as yours truly. Interesting. You don't find those everywhere. This Daesh lady had a bold plan, something Herrith hadn't seen in a while. She liked it. A smuggling association. Plenty of money if you get up high. But a bigger target, too. Part of the risk, guess it made it that much more exciting. Pretty bold to just ask her like that. Must have been something more than just her ability to tell everyone what she was good at. And they were all true, as true as a Zeltron could be.

The Zeltron nodded and replied. "I'm definitely interested. A, uh, trading association would be something that many of us traders need here and there. Watch each others' backs. So what good am I besides my skills?"

 

[Daesha Keever]

There was always risk in crime, Daesha knew that well, perhaps better than most. She'd been living as a criminal since she was a runt, lekku barely down to her shoulders. But in a world of high risks and high rewards, perhaps the best way to get ahead in this kind of business was to band together. After all, it had to be better than scraping by on bit contracts and suicidal smuggling runs, being an expendable resource to all sides. At least as a group smugglers could look out for and help each other, giving the whole more of a fighting chance than any single person had. And if this all truly and utterly went to kark, smugglers were perhaps the least vindictive group of people in the galaxy and the best at going unseen. Breaking down camp and getting the kriff out of somewhere was half their job description.

"Look, I'm gonna level with you." Daesha said between pouring and gunning another shot of rum, beginning to feel its warmth seep through her. "This idea is really just me, a buddy, and a few contacts. We're still working on getting an actual organization going, but I'm willing to give some extra point to anyone willing to sign on at this point."

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

Herrith smirked as her eyes focused beyond the Twi'lek, where the alien was currently dunking the human's head under a small sink of water, visible through the mirror of the restroom as the door to the men's room slowly closed. She refocused her attention on Daesha as she continued speaking, downing some rum in the process. If this was turning in to a drinking game, the Zeltron was sure fine with playing. But the noodlehead seemed a bit too serious for that kind of stuff in the middle of business. Herrith nodded and shifted in her seat before replying in a slightly more serious voice.

"Alright. You trust your buddy, but how much can we trust your, uh, contacts? And who are they? You? Freelance? Hutt? Something else?"

There was slight distaste in her voice at the word "Hutt" but not anything terribly noticeable by the untrained ear. The word was something she despised even mentioning, and the Zeltron just hoped that she wasn't getting into Hutt business. We all know how that ends up...

Herrith shook off her brief unease and took another sip of whiskey, setting down the bottle. Definitely something to save, no point wasting it all in one night. Yes, that's just how broke she was.

 

[Daesha Keever]

Well, it was quite clear that Herrith had some issues with the Hutts, although whether it was the Cartel, the species, or both she could only guess. Daesha prided herself on her ability to read a room, and she quite clearly heard the Zeltron's voice drip with hatred and disdain when the word 'Hutt' passed her lips. Now, this wasn't much of a surprise, every single Hutt was pretty much the enemy of every other living thing in the galaxy, and their species was generally reviled as sociopathic scum. But Herrith's hatred felt closer, more personal than just a general disdain for the overgrown slugs. She made a mental note of that for the future and continued.

"I try to keep it freelance mostly, guys outside of any major factions or groups. But I won't lie, I've got a few Hutt contacts, its hard to avoid them in this line of work." She shrugged, deciding not to sugarcoat the situation for Herrith. The Hutts had their ugly, slimy little fingers in almost every criminal pie in the galaxy, one way or another.

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

Herrith nodded as the Twi'lek replied with honesty that she could believe. Daesha seemed honorable enough, and at least had the stones to say straight up that they'd be working with Hutt Cartel thugs. That was alright. Hutts were the ones she really hated. Most of the people in the Cartel were trying to just make a living, but there were just as many bad eggs in the bunch. With that clearly stated, the Zeltron was ready to start up with whatever job was going on. Guess it was time to finally say hello to the galaxy once again. With a smile, Herrith replied.

"Well let's kriffin' do this."

 

[Daesha Keever]

"Kriff me this was easy." Daesha didn't even stop herself from commenting on the rather easy situation that had just transpired. She had expected to have to negotiate with Herrith, to debate and argue and convince the Zeltron to her side. After all, skepticism and a touch of paranoia was necessary to survive in the galactic underworld, so being offered a vague job by some random woman in a bar should have triggered some alarm bells. Yet, Herrith seemed on board with the entire operation, either out of desperation or naivety she could not tell. Hopefully it was the former, since that would make her a more effective ally on missions.

"Well, here's to getting this kark off the ground, eh?" Daesha raised a glass to Herrith for a toast to their new accord.

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

Herrith smiled at Daesha's comment and quipped quickly - "Maybe later."

She then lifted her glass to the Twi'lek's toast and spoke once more. "To that." She had been quite quick in her decision, true, but that was what she had always been like. Every job, encounter, Hutt business, and before that..Zeltros. Just the person she was. She knew the risks, it wasn't being quick or dumb or anything, just an instinctual response. For better or for worse, that was the issue. But for another time. Right now, some drinks were in order, and someone to share them with. That's all she could hope for, especially in a galaxy like this.

 

[Daesha Keever]

Kriff, what was it about her that made women so flirty? In the past few weeks a good four of five women, excluding Herrith here, had made a pass at her in some way or another. Even if Herrith was just making a joke, the fact that she chose specifically to faux-flirt with her was still noteworthy. Daesha was not into women, nor did she have a problem with other women that were, but the sheer pattern of it was noteworthy. Perhaps it was something she wore, some article of clothing with a secret second meaning, or some gesture she performed that was secretly a sign of having very specific tastes. She'd have to double check that when she got back to the ship, but for now she was hoping to perform a little job interview on Herrith.

"So, what kind of ship do you fly? If I had to guess I'd say a Fathier-Class." Herrith struck Daesha as the kind of woman to fly a Fathier, zippy little freighters that sacrificed cargo capacity for more speed and maneuverability. A lot of high-stakes, seat-of-their-pants, no-pain no-gain type smugglers flew Fathiers, and Herrith had a certain aura of recklessness to her.

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

Herrith had meant the quip as a lighthearted joke, as was the humor she possessed, both from being raised on a party planet full of hormones and crazy teenagers as well as her slightly distasteful humor coming from slavery and smuggling. Not everyone laughed, but the Zeltron knew that the people who did were people a lot like her, a fairly rare occurance except for the occasional evil person here and there. The Twi'lek just didn't have as crude a sense of humor as she. Oh well. Daesha seemed not to care much on the outside and asked Herrith what type of ship she flew, which was replied to by a short laugh.

"Yeah, I fly a Fathier. Only issue is that it's used like you wouldn't believe. Rusted hull and a broken turret housing. Gun works fine, but it can't swivel. Plus, I rarely have that much crew anyways. Evasive flying's my thing. And a few maneuvers. What about you, if you don't mind the question? I'd take you for a medium or heavy hauler; seems like you got enough to afford a crew."

 

[Daesha Keever]

How the hell could someone let their ship fall that far into disrepair? The Burnout Junk was Daesha's home, her business, her entire livelihood. She got pissed when meteorites scratched the paint job. If she ever found rust on the hull she'd quit her job and take up farming or some kark, since she clearly wasn't cut out for this line of work. It was clear now that Herrith was either desperate for cash or apathetic, and considering how little she was touching her now recapped booze Daesha was leaning toward the former. She snapped out of her brief trance at Herrith's admission when the Zeltron asked her question, and cleared her throat before replying.

"Close, I fly a Nerf Herder, but I like to keep the crew light, just me and my droid. But, if this whole 'Smuggling Guild' thing goes according to plan I've been thinking about making some upgrades." Taking out her datapad, Daesha pulled up some ship schematics for an upgraded Nerf Herder she was working on. "I'm thinking about calling her 'The Gutkurr'."

 

[Herrith Hendarsin]

Hereith winced at the sudden mood change for the worse and was quick to catch herself.
"You didn't hear the whole story; I wasn't the one that rusted the ship, it flies perfect; whoever owned it previous was evidently quite the terrible mechanic. I do repairs with what I can, but there's a long list of problems. If it makes you feel better, I'd gladly let you take a look sometime. Some of my modifications are dodgy at best."

She smiled as Daesha opened up about her smuggling craft. Her guess was off. Guess they were both broke, at least more or less so. The Zeltron listened as Daesha went on about her own, seemingly entranced by the thing, even going so far as to try and find a name and turn it into a supership. Sounded like a pretty solid plan. This was clearly a full-time smuggler, while Herrith was spread all across the board. Two different viewpoints, but she still felt like there wouldn't be too much conflict between the two. The Twi'lek seemed reasonable enough, that is. By all means, Herrith was a brash keetar freg and wasn't always the easiest to relate with. Hopefully not to Daesha, seemed like they might be able to be friends.

"I may be broke, but trust me, I can hold my own."

 

[Daesha Keever]

Daesha deflated somewhat, realizing that she hadn't taken into account that the ship was some new junk beater the poor woman couldn't afford to repair. She felt rather bad actually given how viscerally she had reacted to Herrith's initial statement, although she did little to show it. Looking down at her half-used bottle and Herrith's barely touched booze, Daesha came to realize that taking up counter space was doing no one in this bar any good. Slamming the cap back down on her bottle, she turned to Herrith and grinned with her new, brilliant idea.

"Why not take a look right now? I've got nowhere to be and I've always got a few basic tools on me at all times." Daesha had not one, single thing to do for the rest of the day, so heading down to the shipyard and showing some poor freighter a little tender-loving-maintenance.