It's the dawn of the 33rd century. Over 700 years ago, a pan-galactic cataclysm called the Scream caused the collapse of the psionically stabilized jump gates connecting the far-flung colonies of Earth and the implosion of the Milky Way-spanning Terran Mandate. Uncounted billions died along with their worlds in the aftermath of the Scream, but in some remote regions of the galaxy, humanity has persisted. The Aegean Verge is one such region.
Over the past centuries, the Verge has recovered from the Scream, recharting lost drill routes through metaspace to achieve faster than light travel, picking up where the Mandate left off in the colonization process of its undeveloped worlds, and establishing new, self-governing polities seated on its most advanced planets. Over the centuries, normalcy has been reestablished, and some semblance stability achieved.
Though it is the center of civilization, it is still simultaneously a frontier, and a hostile one at that. The void is vast and empty, but thick with mercenaries and pirates. The balance of power among the Verge’s political states is a delicate one, and a dozen local conflicts threaten to tip the scales one way or another. Blaster pistol toting sheriffs keep the peace in colonial towns that would look more at home in the American Mid-West than on the worlds of the Prospero Colonies, and scientists make breakthroughs in advancing technology in hundred ways, some of which recapture the glory of the fallen Terran Mandate’s technological prowess, and some of which threaten the very future of humanity’s existence.
And no, shit, there you were, hauling ice from the Twin Rings of Olympus back to Mycenae Station…
Stars Without Number is a sandbox RPG in a science fiction setting that resembles beloved IPs like The Expanse and Firefly. I'm interested in putting together a game that would take place in a sector of the Stars Without Number universe that I've developed, the Aegean Verge.
The idea is that you, the players, would be spacers working in the Aegeus System, but given the sandbox nature of Stars Without Number, I imagine we’d be doing some exploring of what kind of adventure we’d like to run before we get started (assuming this gets any traction).
The RPG itself is available for free here. It's a pretty straightforward system, with all of the basics surrounding character creation and such being pretty easy to grasp for a newcomer.
So there you have it. Let me know if you'd be interested in participating.
Curious. How did he manage to buy his ship if he was coming out of military service?
After speaking with Wyrm, we’ve decided to connect Jaren and Khulbe the Hutt on this point. Given Jaren’s skillset, Khulbe provided financing for the ship through a loan, with some strings in the form of criminal contracts with the Hutt Jaren can’t say no to.
Jaren’s sheet will be amended to include this note.
The U-Wing came to a height of a meter or so above the planet's surface, and the ship's long doors slid open, flooding the dark cabin with harsh, blinding light.
Raya Valkheva’s boots were the first in Blue Squad to hit Khol Jogoth’s surface, and her rifle was the first to speak. Her Blues streamed out of the U-Wing behind her, and a stream of red lances followed as the rebels made planetfall.
The startled COMPFORCE squads that found themselves in Blue Squad’s sights returned fire, but their hurried shots flew wide as the nimble rebel fireteams fanned out to a wide spread with practiced alacrity. The Imperials took a casualty, then another, then two more. They popped smoke, a white cloud issuing from a pair of hurled cannisters, but it was too late. Raya’s Blues made short work of the enemy, carrying out their grim work with cool efficiency, and without losing a single soldier.
Raya gave the order to cease fire, and then the order to advance. She took the lead into the smoke, and her Blues followed behind. Their quadrant was quiet now but for the din of distant combat, conversant exchanges of blaster fire and explosives that grew quieter as the rebel forces won skirmishes across the field, and swelled as new engagements flared.
Raya emerged from the smoke on the other side to find a slew of bodies strewn across the ground. The soldiers had been recruits, she knew. This had likely been their first combat engagement, and they’d died. Or, at least, most of them had. There was movement. She counted two, three troopers wounded—severely, even—but alive. She moved forward carefully, remembering Petja Mosvic lying in the rubble of Lorya’s outermost defenses. The girl had been nearly crushed under the rubble of a collapsed building, but even while pinned and dying she traded fire with the advancing troopers until they’d shot her dead where she lay.
“Sergeant, we’ve got survivors,” one of her team announced, the voice seeming far and away to her ear. The troopers had flooded Petja’s position with plasma, firing until the stone and durasteel pinning her to the Uslam earth had turned to smoking, partially melted slag. She'd been a model before the war. Raya remembered her plastered across multi-story holoboards in downtown Lorya, advertising some electronics product. When the city's defenders recovered her body, they’d found that the Imperials had left her without a face.
She tested the grip of her pistol with the unfeeling steel of her left arm. “Leave them,” she ordered after a long moment. “We don’t have the time to waste.” They pressed on, deeper into the compound, rifles at the ready and senses electric with anticipation.
It was not long before they had reengaged with the enemy and begun trading blasterfire with the Empire once more.
The Blues took their first casualty as a high-powered laser cannon cut through their ranks and struck the earth, kicking up dust, dirt, and gore. Lance Corporal Gastol, the Mantellian rifleman, found himself caught in the blast. His body, missing a leg, flew through the air and landed with a sickening thud. Raya swore aloud as they faced their first piece of armor on the field.
The TX-225 GAVw Occupier was a brutal combat assault tank bristling with medium laser cannons. The Occupier had turned a corner around a small building and opened fire, a slow rain of methodical, powerful shots that threatened to wipe the squad out two and three at a time.
Private Fen Cato, the massive Nautolan, brought a launcher to bear. The RPS-6 was Clone Wars-era tech, but the warheads were modern enough, and Cato had six of them. Raya’s Blues laid down small arms fire on the tank and the COMPFORCE troops in tow as the Nautolan prepped the launcher. Another pair of twin lances issued from the tank’s left battery, passing near enough to Raya’s head for her to smell the crackling ozone in the air. She heard a scream from behind her, and then a blaster bolt took her fireteam’s point rifleman in the chest directly ahead of her.
She put the offending COMPFORCE trooper down, her fourth of the day, and then shielded her eyes from the blast as Cato landed the rocket on the tank, and then another. The armor was a smoking ruin after the dust settled, and the handful of surviving COMPFORCE troopers fell back in the wake of the blast.
“Medic!” Raya shouted, continuing to place blaster bolts down range.
As a player, what is your preferred writing level? Variable. My style is a little more succinct than most, probably, but I'm flexible with my expectations of others.
Is grammar and depth of writing important to you? Definitely important, but everyone is at different writing levels. I don't have prohibitively high expectations.
Are there any writing subjects you particularly enjoy exploring? I'm very much into the underworld adjacent aspects of the Star Wars universe, and expect to be writing in that sphere more than others.
Is there anything you really dislike and want to avoid like the plague? Nah.
Is there something you are uncomfortable with happening to your character? I'd be interested in seeing him survive for a while.
Do you have any short-term or long-term goals with this character? Not particularly. I think I'll wait until I start writing for him through the stories to feel out his future arc.
Name: Jaren Jast Species: Human Homeworld: Corellia Age: 34 Gender: Male Specialization:
Courier Contracting
Personal Transportation
Professional Investigative Services
Current area of operation: Outer Rim, Galactic South
Known Skills: Jaren Jast is a talented gunslinger and a competent pilot, capable of providing safe, discreet transport of goods and/or individuals across the galaxy. Trained Techniques: Firearms Training, Close Quarters Combat Training, Starpiloting Known Associates: The Crew of the Raven Trespass: First Mate and Co-Pilot Glato, Chief Engineer Valera Syndulla. Favored Equipment and Clothes: A personally commissioned WESTAR heavy blaster pistol; a deep brown leather jacket of genuine leather. Personality Type: Jast is a cool, collected professional. Known Flaws: Jast is charismatic, even charming, but he toes the line between roguish confidence and arrogance, often poorly.
Recommended Casting for the Holovid Adaptation: Travis Fimmel
Detailed appearance.
Jaren Jast stands at a hair under six feet in height. He sports dirty blonde hair and sea green eyes, and a shadow of facial hair that often threatens classification as a messy, unkempt beard proper. He maintains a lean, athletic build.
His body has taken its fair share of punishment over the years, and he bears an extensive collection of scars cataloging an alarming number of life-threatening experiences with blaster fire and vibroblades. Only by the grace of modern medicine is he still alive and without crippling injury.
His sharp nose is slightly crooked, previously broken, a lasting relic of a punch to the face long ago.
Report on skills and talents, including level of skill.
Jaren Jast is an experienced combatant, highly competent in the use of a wide range of firearms—he is especially skilled with blaster rifles and pistols—and more than proficient in close quarters combat. Jast has a very basic competence in slicing and cryptography, and a fair amount of experience with explosives. Thanks to his service with the Republic Strategic Information Service, he has developed a respectable proficiency in the field of intelligence tradecraft. Further, he is a capable starpilot, specifically at the helm of a light freighter.
Report on known combat experience, training and weapons training.
Jaren has extensive training with firearms and close quarters combat by virtue of his service with the Republic military's special forces arm, as well as a basic proficiency with explosives. He adapted this skillset to his work as a field agent for the SIS in the few few years of the post-war period, refining them further.
Does the Courier have, or have they ever had, a bounty on them? Are they wanted?
Jast has never had a bounty on him and is not currently wanted by any organization or body of government, though that may change in the near future. Though the Imperial Ministry of Intelligence does not know much about him, they are hot on his trail in the wake of an operation on Nar Shaddaa.
Detailed notes on common/favored employers and any noteworthy contacts.
Jacen Jast, Jaren’s older brother, served with the Republic Strategic Information Service for eight years before transitioning to a well-compensated senior position with Coronet Analytica, a private intelligence firm based on Corellia that performs intelligence work on behalf of corporations, litigants, and even the Republic itself (all for impressive profits). Most recently, Jacen provided Jaren with a contract to secure an Imperial defector on Nar Shaddaa who promised a wealth of sensitive information on certain individuals within the Sith Empire’s highest echelons. This contract did not go well.
Detailed notes on known rivals and enemies.
Cipher 12, a counterintelligence agent with the Sith Empire’s Ministry of Intelligence, has recently emerged as Jast’s primary foil. 12 and his associates, including the Mandalorian mercenary Deklen Ordo, spearheaded an intervention against Jast and his crew on Nar Shaddaa. Though Jaren and his team were able to escape with a datapad containing the defector’s intelligence, Cipher 12’s agents successfully assassinated the informant and killed one of Jast’s team in the ensuing firefight.
List and description of other known associates.
Valera “Val” Syndulla, a Twi’lek engineering officer aboard the Raven Trespass. Val has a mind for mechanics that compensates for Jaren's incompetence in this field.
Telsa Jetstar, Alsakan native and former Republic Naval officer. Telsa flew interceptors for the Republic Navy during the closing years of the way, and worked commercial freighters before being recruited by Jast to serve as the Raven's pilot.
Boqorro Nbara, a hitman from Nar Shaddaa who serves as the Raven's chief of security and general muscle.
Khulbe the Hutt, Hutt criminal lord and financier of Jast's ship, the Raven Trespass. Jast often works for Khulbe at a reduced rate, as part of a sort of non-financial interest on the vehicle loan he used to purchase the Raven.
List of known belongings, including but not limited to planetary surface property, civilian and military vessels, vehicles, weapons, tools.
The Raven Trespass, Jaren’s ship, is an XS stock light freighter. It’s an older model, but his engineering officer and associate, Val Syndulla, has kept it operational and upgraded. Jaren is able to coax surprisingly high levels of performance from the dated starship while at the helm.
Jaren’s blaster is a custom WESTAR piece which cost him a small fortune to commission. The ivory, black, and gold heavy blaster pistol’s sleek, sloping design allows for lightning quick draws that have saved his life on more than one occasion. He has never been able to settle on a name for the weapon.
Psychological evaluation of Courier.
Jast, in just a few words, is uneven and unstable. He is cool and collected under pressure, and charismatic and charming at first impression. This is not, however, the full picture. Jast is insensitive, unempathetic, hot-tempered, and waffles between brooding and manic depending on the circumstances. Whether he was simply born like this or developed this personality due to a lifetime of harsh experiences and traumas, Jast is an emotional livewire under the façade of professionalism. However, that façade is exceptionally well-developed, and he seems every part the level-headed professional while on the job and in front of his clients and superiors.
List and description of known and suspected flaws. To be put into restricted database.
Jast is charismatic, even charming, but only in the context of his profession. Personally, he is hot-tempered, unempathetic, and mistrustful. While he is more than effective at maintaining his professional relationships, he struggles with genuine interpersonal connections. He is further far from amenable to hierarchical structure, a weakness that has prevented him from achieving success through more conventional routes. His insubordinate and uncooperative nature led to his departure from his service to the Republic, and his personality more generally has prevented him from maintaining anything resembling a relationship or healthy, stable friendships.
Further, and more practically, he is a particularly poor engineer. Though his education and training required him to complete and demonstrate proficiency in the technical area, this has never been a strength of his. He can fly the Raven Trespass, but requires a trained engineer the maintain the ship. Fortunately, his engineer, Val Syndulla, does all the thinking for him when it comes to the ship's maintenance.
All known interests of the Courier.
When asked about his hobbies on one occasion, his immediate response was “drinking.” He then struggled to follow up with any genuine interests. This bothers him.
Major achievements on record.
Graduate, Republic Defense Academy of Carida;
Five years' service with the Republic Army during the Great Galactic War;
Promoted to the rank of Captain one year prior to the Treaty of Coruscant;
Transferred to the Republic Strategic Information Service, received assignment as Field Agent.
Major failures on record. Confidential.
Resigned from the Republic Strategic Information Service after two years.
Personal biography.
Jaren Jast was born at the dawn of the Great Galactic War, and pursued a career in the military once he was of age. He attended an accelerated program at the Republic Defense Academy on Carida, and subsequently fought on the frontlines for five years, ascending to the rank of captain within a special forces squad by the conclusion of the war. Jast fought on myriad fronts over the course of the conflict, and his experiences in the field developed him into an exceptional soldier. Upon the conclusion of the war, his brother, who had transitioned to serve with the Republic Strategic Information Service during the war, recruited him into the Republic intelligence arm, where he served as a field agent for two years.
Jast chafed tremendously against the bureaucracy and regulatory structure that accompanied peacetime operations. Years of open warfare and service on the frontlines proved venomous to his patience and mental health, and he grew increasingly insubordinate and uncooperative within the SIS. This culminated with his departure from the Service, and he struck out on his own at the helm of an XS-class light freighter he dubbed the Raven Trespass. Though Jast's time with the SIS was more lucrative than his time in the military, he was forced to finance the Raven Trespass with the help of a certain Hutt, who made him a generous financing offer with some nasty strings attached.
He re-entered the intelligence community after a short time away, as his brother, still serving with the SIS, recruited him to work as an independent contractor.
Over the past four years, Jast has continued to supplement his courier work—which is often the illegal sort for which couriers are notorious—with contracts assigned by the SIS and private firms in the intelligence business. He works the shadows as a deniable asset, executing operations ranging from exfiltration and extraction to industrial espionage to dirty wetwork a layman would more readily associate with the Sith Empire’s intelligence wing than the Republic’s.
Most recently, Jast took on a contract through his brother, who had recently begun working for private intelligence firm Coronet Analytica. His brother had cultivated an opportunity to secure a defecting Imperial citizen in possession of a wealth of sensitive, personal information on members of the Sith Empire’s highest echelons. This lucrative—and ultimately dangerous—job brought Jast and the crew of the Raven Trespass to Nar Shaddaa, where they made contact with the defector. They were subsequently ambushed by an Imperial Intelligence counterintelligence agent and his affiliates, resulting in the deaths of the defector and Glato, Jast’s second-in-command aboard the Raven. In the confused flight from Nar Shaddaa, Jast hitched a ride on a passenger liner bound for Ryloth while the remainder of the team escaped on the Raven to the remote world of Hypori.
One of the counterintelligence agents from the engagement on Nar Shaddaa managed to waylay the passenger liner over Tatooine during the events of Star Wars: Arkanis Sailer (now partially non-canon). Jast was forced to escape to the surface of the nearby planet of Tatooine in an escape pod.
“Maybe, maybe not. We came very close to getting caught there. Every second you bought with the life support systems mattered,” Jaren replied. He wondered though. At the end of the day it had come down to a standoff, a quick draw. The only thing that mattered in the end was being faster to pull the trigger. Fortunately for them both, he’d been faster. They’d both gotten away with their lives. The same, he imagined, could not be said of the crew. He knew the Ministry’s methods.
He didn’t mention that to Astra.
“And now we have all the seconds in the galaxy,” he added with a smirk, eyes settling on the sand shrouded orb in the viewport. “We’ll be in the Core Worlds before you know it. You ever been there? You’ll love it. It’s nice. It’s real nice.”
Deklen Ordo set his helmet down on the Black Mantid’s console. He watched the Arkanis Sailer burn in the distance from the gunship’s bridge. The Mantid’s heavy laser cannons and missile pods had made short work of the freighter, overwhelming the underpowered shielding and punching through the hull. The Sailer had erupted into plumes of fire as escaping oxygen became flames for a brief moment before being snuffed out by the vacuum of space. Those left on board had died screaming.
It was violent and beautiful.
A message came through on the command console, a request for a video conference. He accepted the request with the touch of the screen, and a Chiss dressed in Imperial officer garb appeared across the bridge’s viewport, blocking out the Sailer’s death throes. The Imperial soldiers on the bridge saluted. The mercenaries, and Ordo, did not, though the Mandalorian had the decency to straighten out his posture before connecting to the communication.
“Cipher 10. We intercepted the transport per your orders, but Commander Jast has eluded capture. We expect he will be making planetfall on Tatooine in an escape pod within a few hours,” Ordo greeted his commanding officer with a recap of the report he had submitted after returning to the Mantid. Cipher 10’s face was impassive, unreadable. Ordo had never seen him convey emotion. The agent could be a droid, for all he knew. “Jast is proving to be a difficult quarry.”
“Jast is indeed a difficult quarry, Captain Ordo, which is precisely why I assigned you to bring him in.” Cipher 10’s mannerisms were exacting, precise. His words had all the carefully selected inflections and enunciation of a sniper shot. “I expected success. I am disappointed with your performance. What of the freighter?”
“Destroyed. I was just watching it burn as you called.” Cipher 10’s mouth was a tight line as he processed this information.
“Did it launch any escape pods?” Ordo’s commander asked. Ordo winced. He knew where this was going.
“A few. We caught most of them before they could get away, but some will make it to the planet.” Cipher 10 was more than displeased with this outcome, he already knew.
“And do you expect that this will muddle your search for the particular escape pod containing Commander Jast and the information in his possession?” Cipher 10 continued, just as Ordo expected. “Don’t answer. Obviously, it will. I am curious what possessed you to think that this was the best method of accomplishing your objective.”
“Cipher, with all due respect, I didn’t have the manpower to make a floor-by-floor sweep-and-exterminate practicable in the time we had to conduct this operation. I gave this order because I believed it was the most efficient way to comply with the mandate to eliminate any witnesses to the action,” Ordo answered easily. Cipher 10 was, indeed, clearly displeased with him, but the Mandalorian was not particularly bothered by his disapproval. He was confident in the call.
“Do not hide behind my orders. In the event of a change in circumstance of this sort you are to call in to receive guidance,” Cipher 10 chastised, his voice particularly hard and cold. “It seems that you still have yet to learn that your bloodlust makes you reckless and shortsighted, and it now requires me to furnish you with additional support.” Ordo’s ears perked up at this proposition in spite of the berating that preceded it. “You are too far removed to provide you with Imperial assistance, but the Ministry has assets available near enough to your coordinates to respond. I am activating Captain Vaskess, one of our contacts based in the sector. He and his crew will assist you in the search for Commander Jast. I do not enjoy repeating myself, but allow me to make your orders very clear. You are to bring him in alive.”
“I understand my orders, Cipher. What about his accomplice? The woman I mentioned in the report?”
“I sense an opportunity to save the Imperial taxpayers some money. Vaskess is a Trandoshan, a pirate and a slaver. See if you can’t negotiate for a reduced fee in exchange for the girl. I am sure he will be amenable to the offer.”
“Yes, Cipher,” Ordo answered, and the holovid blinked out of existence, leaving the bounty hunter to gaze upon the burning freighter once more. He rested his hand on the blaster at his side, palming the grip as his eyes turned toward the planet in the distance.
A star fell from a clear sky.
It struck a plateau at a low angle and carved its way through sandy dirt, leaving an ugly scar upon the earth as it traveled. It collided with a four-meter tower, a moisture trap, and left it demolished in its wake. Friction, amplified by the rough ridges and slopes of the earth, slowed it down further and further.
At long last, the escape pod came to a grinding halt on the surface of Tatooine.
Jast pursed his lips in response. He was good with people in a transactional context. Business deals, connections, greasing palms, telling lies. Tradecraft was his profession, and he excelled in the interpersonal dealings as much as the gunslinging. In sharp contrast, genuine connections and empathy were not his forte. Hutt Space, and Nar Shaddaa in particular, was a cesspit of sentient trafficking and worse. She did not need to explain further for him to understand, but he wasn’t sure what to offer her in response.
“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think they’re interested in you,” he started, “but I guess associating with me is a death sentence until we get you to Republic soil. Once we get planetside—somewhere safe—I’ll give you some basic training. It’s better to be able to defend yourself than not.”
He stretched, wincing as he rolled his shoulder. He figured it to be a strain, but he supposed he was lucky that was the full extent of his injuries today. “You did well back on the ship. I’m not sure I would have made it off without your help.”
Jaren smirked as she played around with the gravity-less environment. With gravity projection ubiquitous across the galaxy, even the most seasoned spacers rarely experienced zero-g. It was certainly a strange feeling. He ran a hand through his hair as she asked about Ordo.
“Yes. He’s a Mandalorian bounty hunter, a mercenary working for the Sith Empire’s Ministry of Intelligence. We ran into him back on Nar Shaddaa in the middle of a contract. He killed our exfil target and one of the guys on my team. I finally got a clean shot at him back on the ship and I didn’t have time to set my blaster back from stun.” He exhaled deeply. The rush of adrenaline hadn’t yet worn off, and his heart was still racing. Beyond that, he was less than confident about their odds. Ordo was a skilled hunter and a deadly combatant. He’d have liked their chances a lot better if he’d been able to kill him aboard the Sailer.
But Jaren was a Corellian. Odds weren’t his thing.
“Disappointing, but I imagine that’s not the last we’ll see of him,” he continued. “Hopefully I’ll be the one doing the shooting and not you, though. I take it you don’t have much firearms training, do you?”
“Pretty name,” Jaren commented. He worked the controls as the pod rocketed through space, orienting the vessel toward the surface of Tatooine. In the viewport, the distant yellow-red orb of earth came into full view.
“So, Astra, the plan. We’re about four hours out from planetfall. I’m going to shut down all of the systems on here for a few of those hours. That’ll make sure their scanners can’t pick us up out here in the black. Zero emissions. It’s hard enough to find an escape pod in the void, but we might as well make it impossible.”
He pressed a few buttons as soon as his work was complete, and the pod seemed to have died entirely on them. Even the gravity gave out, and they were suddenly weightless. “Everything except the oxygen is offline,” he explained. “As soon as we touch down, though, we’ll have to move. I imagine they’ll have a good sense of where we could land and will be following up on any planetary impacts they pick up. We don’t have any way of landing quietly on this thing, so, yeah, we’re going to have to move fast once we touch down. They’ll be after us as soon as they pick up a reading on our entrance.”
He rummaged through the pack and produced a sleek, compact, matte black blaster pistol and handed it to her. “Here. Standard military issue, bit of an upgrade from that thing you’re carrying around. Very easy to use. Just point and shoot,” he said, offering it to her, grip-first. “Hopefully you don’t need it, but if you do, you might as well be carrying something that can punch through Mandalorian armor.”
He tried a few buttons, and then, when that gave nothing in the way of results, he banged a closed fist against the top of the pod. The door slid open. “Huh.” He tossed his bag into the humming escape pod. “Good enough,” he said. “After you.” He offered her a hand and helped her clamor into the pod. It was a comfortable three-seater, from the look of it. Cramped and confining, but they weren’t going for luxury with this escape, as it were. With only the two of them there would be room enough anyway.
As soon as she was safely in the pod, Jaren stepped a foot in, aiming for the ladder down.
“Commander Jast, freeze where you are,” a muffled, but smooth, voice ordered from behind him. Jaren turned to look and found himself staring down a tall Mandalorian warrior emerging from the stairwell a little under ten meters away. He held a heavy blaster pistol in his hand. Jaren could see down the shadowed muzzle, even at this distance. “Step out of the escape pod.” Jaren did so, raising his hands.
“I haven’t been Commander Jast in a long time,” Jaren replied easily, but he grit his teeth as he spoke. “Deklen Ordo, I take it.” He assessed the bounty hunter. The voice had been familiar, but now, off the screen, in person, and fully in the light, he realized he recognized that armor. “You’re the bounty hunter from Nar Shaddaa. One of 10's men. How did you find me?”
“The Empire has spies everywhere,” Ordo said, gesturing ever so slightly with the gun. Jaren narrowed his eyes. His trigger finger twitched. “My superiors knew you were taking this ship off-world before you did. Now, the datapad.”
“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Jast asked, tempting the bounty hunter to continue talking.
“I will, yes, just like your partner—” Ordo gestured with the gun again, and Jaren moved with fluid motion and lightning speed. He drew the ivory, black, and gold blaster and fired. His aim was true, and the bounty hunter's sentence was cut short by the sharp crack of blaster fire and a flash of azure light. The blue bolt caught the bounty hunter on the right. Ordo went to the wall with a shout, but the armor absorbed much of the damage and he was still on his feet. Seemingly paralyzed on his right side, propped up against the wall on his shoulder, he extended his left arm. A jet of flame issued from his wrist.
Jaren dove into the pod headfirst to avoid the flamethrower, crashing shoulder first on one of the chairs inside. Orienting himself, he slammed a fist against the launch button, which sounded with a heavy chunk. The door slammed shut, and the pod jettisoned away from the Arkanis Sailer and hurtled into space with a tremendous burst of speed, throwing him across the tiny vessel with wild force.
As he finally managed to take his seat, bruised and battered, and begin working on the pod’s controls, he took a moment to introduce himself.
“Jaren Jast, by the way," he said, extending a hand to the young woman. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Jaren had fought for five years during the Great Galactic War, and had spent the long years of the Cold War running intelligence operations as an independent contractor to the Republic Strategic Information Services and its private, off-the-record affiliates. This particular operation had been a disaster by every estimation, but he’d kept his cool, as he always did. A non-lethal shot to the back of an armed and dangerous enemy was a slow day at the cubicle for him.
Not so for this girl.
“Hey, easy,” he said, attempting something akin to reassurance, “we’re almost out of here.” Not particularly effective, really, but he was on edge himself. She followed close behind. Not that she had much of a choice, he figured. They were in the shit now.
They entered the stairwell and began descending, but Jaren paused as he heard the clamor of hurried boots on the stairs above them. “Go, go,” he urged her to continue down, and angled his blaster upward. He discharged the WESTAR one, two, three times. Wild blue lances shot upwards, warning shots threatening to stun anyone coming down. The stairwell’s occupants were clearly dissuaded from continuing their descent, judging by their shouts and hurried backpedaling.
He pressed onward after her, and they came to the fifth level of the Sailer. The lowest level of the ship was sparse, two narrow corridors on either side of the vessel lined with escape pods. Some of them even looked operational.
“Check to see if they’re operational,” he said, moving to the first one. He pressed the buttons, but it was nonresponsive. “At least some of these have to be in working condition.”
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