Second Hand News

[Dasquian]

It was something so small, he had almost missed it. Scanning the pages and pages of open bounties, anyone might have failed to notice the request for information – purposefully perhaps, even, given how bringing it a body could often be so much more simple than uncovering a valuable nugget of truth. Regardless of whether the other signatories of the Bounty Hunters Guild had given any attention to the notice, Peregrine could not stop thinking about it.

In a darkened booth of Progga's Hut, he tapped a key on the datapad sat in front of him. The screen, which had gone dim from inactivity, blinked to life again and he re-read its contents: Information wanted on the whereabouts or associates of one Grace Van-Derveld, escaped detainee of the Galactic Empire. Last seen on Imperial Center. Any information should be communicated immediately to the office of Reinhart Thul, Imperial Center.

“Hey, bucket-head.”

Peregrine looked up quickly, yanked out of the depths of thought he'd fallen into. A sour faced humanoid stood over him, hands on hips.

“You gonna buy something? This ain't a library.”

A glance around the cantina revealed tables full of customers, many of whom were onto their third or fourth drink. On the table he sat at, Peregrine had only a datapad and a cup of Corellian caff which had gone cold and untouched for the past half hour. “Another caff then,” he said, sliding the still full cup across the table with the back of two gloved fingertips. The barman stared at him, at the dark eyes of his helmet and the lipless mouth which would make taking even a single sip of caff impossible.

“Fine,” he snorted. “Be right with you.”

And then he was gone, and Peregrine went back to his datapad and the questions it posed.

[Darven]

"Your caff."

Setting the cup of steaming liquid down onto the table, Darven took up the space the barman had occupied before. The helmeted man in the chair in front of him didn't even look up - just flipped a credit chip up into the air at him. The Mandalorian aimed his palm at where the chip was bound to come down, and it duly did so with a dull thump. Still remaining in his position, he slowly set the chip down again onto the table next to the caff.

"Here on business, brother?"

Truth to be told, he had been unable to find out much about the individual in front of him, despite of the fact that they were both members of the same Guild. Kedrous the barman had sent word up to his room of another shiny suit showing up half an hour ago, so he'd come down hoping to talk to someone from Manda'yaim - but found Peregrine instead.

There had been a time when seeing someone in white armour sparked a disastrous mix of emotions in him, but that time was long gone. And Peregrine was wearing a set of the newer specs, from the looks of it. True stormy gear with some added extras.

He doubted the man was a Mando, but one could never know for sure. He'd seen a fair share of modded stormy armour over the years - most of it had been used for target practise, though.

He'd taken the job of bringing Peregrine his chosen beverage; it was as good an opportunity as any to perhaps get a chance to figure out what kind of a creature the man really was.

[Dasquian]

The white helmet angled upwards, a sign that Peregrine had lifted his gaze.

“Business,” he said, as if testing the word and its suitability. Then he nodded. Again, he tapped the datapad in front of him, then with one fingertip turned it so that the text was the right way up for Darven to read. Reinhart Thul's request for information reappeared, with the word open written in bold above it.

“Know anything about this?”

[Darven]

The man appeared to be unfazed by his sudden appearance. This meant either he had good nerves or he'd known beforehand whom he might encounter in this place. Both were useful traits for someone in the business.

The ex-commando's eyes skimmed the contents of the information on the datapad. The name of Van-Derveld wasn't totally unknown to him, but he needed to have something more info on the man's intentions before handing out information.

"You mean have I heard of her, or that she's been detained by the Empire - and managed to get away from them again?"

Peregrine might have just asked whether he'd heard of Thul's request for information, but Darven thought he might get more out of him by going the roundabout way.

[Dasquian]

Managed to get away from them again... A rueful smile tugged one corner of his lips upwards, though the expression tightened within a moment, and would have seemed more like a grimace than a smile had Darven been able to see behind the expression visage of Peregrine's helmet. He slid the datapad back across the table, depositing it somewhere safe about his person.

“I'd heard she was dead... killed in some riots on Coruscant (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=19023). Is the bounty up to date?”

[Darven]

"As of last week, she's alive. You're interested in going after it?"

There was something slightly off in the way the man was holding himself. The old clone didn't know him well enough to be able to read its meaning from something so nebulous as a gesture or an odd tilt of the head, but he could have sworn there was an unusual amount of tension in Peregrine's behaviour. Perhaps he was like that the entire time - Dar hadn't been in his presence enough to know the difference - but something definitely was off about him.

"Hadn't pegged you for the type interested in this kind of bounty."

[Dasquian]

“Well...” he started, but no other words came.

It had always seemed implausible to him, to think that she was dead. It wasn't even a matter of refusing to believe it because it would have hurt too much to accept that she was gone; he just plain didn't believe that she would have gone down so easily.

It was the nature of their line of work, however, that all he had to go on for evidence was rumour and Imperial propaganda. Naturally, the Empire was selling the line that all Rebels involved in the insurrection had been put down like the dogs they were – but there was a lot of talk to the contrary, wild talk that encompassed spectacular escapes, feats of danger and daring, and a whole lot of hyperbole.

Realising that Darven was still with him, Peregrine shrugged.

“It'll pay,” he managed. “And it couldn't hurt to curry some favour with the Empire. You get in sweet with them and you're sorted with work for life.”

[Darven]

"You're sorted, yes," he said, echoing Peregrine's words. That was as close to sarcasm as he felt comfortable with.

He had his reasons for disliking the Empire, but they were a paying customer. There had been times when he'd opted out of taking one of their bounties, when the intended mark or the nature of the bounty itself had given him an unpleasantly queasy feeling just trying to consider it, but the recent years had been a bit more... moderate. With that sick bastard gone from the throne - it had improved matters for everyone. More infighting, more lucrative bounties on those who tried to walk off with more than they deserved. But not everything had changed, and in the old clone's perspective of the galaxy, being sorted - in any which way - by the Empire still meant trouble.

Truth to be told, he didn't think much different of the other side, either. Which was ironic, really.

The rebels didn't post many bounties. And he'd never taken any of theirs; their interest in him lay elsewhere. If it hadn't been for them, some things might have been a little more complicated, so he couldn't begrudge them the bit of usefulness they held. But he didn't buy into that whole "my enemy's enemy is my friend"-osik ; but for all he thought of them, he considered no one his enemy, so could also have no friend.

It was all just business.

Nya would probably have been shocked at hearing him say so. But life had changed since she'd--- since then. He wondered what she'd say when he'd tell her the truth behind his motives for taking on the lieutenancy for the military branch.

"It's classified as a military target. That's my branch of the guild. You need any help, you come to me. And-" - for a moment he hesitated, then decided to take a chance -"we might want to contact the other side, see what it might be worth to them keeping any info on her from the Empire."

[Dasquian]

The proposition caught Peregrine's attention and he lifted his head with perhaps a little much eagerness.

“You've got contacts inside the Rebellion?”