So Hard to Find Good Help

"What rock have these people been hiding under and why can't they just go back there?"

Emelie slumped just slightly behind the desk that centralized her office. It was larger than her private one, had far more empty space, and she figured whoever had designed it had made it so that whoever came in would feel somewhat insignificant sitting across from the woman in the antique chair across from them. Though it also made one feel as if they had perhaps suddenly stepped foot back onto a verdant planet, a stark difference than the asteroid that housed the company's headquarters. Most of the furniture had been crafted from wood, with hand carved details in beautiful organic shapes. Fabric accents were in a brilliant green that matched exotic plants that had been placed around the room.

The stemless glass of white wine was swirled slightly before Emelie took another sip of it. Her assistant, Trina Windgate, adjusted her glasses and smirked at her employer just as another overly heavily armored man had left the office.

"Because you asked that they all come out of hiding and apply for a job."
"Maybe I should have put 'Over sized men with tiny brains need not apply' in the fine print."
"They wouldn't have read it anyway."
"Yeah, but then at least it would have given me an excuse to have them thrown out."
"Well you are trying to hire some sort of muscle. I thought you liked these types?"
"Some of them. But is it so much to ask for someone who can be imposing that actually will have the wherewithal to not frell up if I put him on duty with one of the more sensative shipments? Last thing I need is for the oaf to be all 'How'd this glitterstim get here?' Frell, ideally I'd like someone who can actually handle the fact what I'm moving without wondering if blowing a whistle would get him a bigger paycheck. Pilots were the easy part, but this brute-force dren always brings out the worst."

Trina allowed a slight laugh before striding back to the door.

"Yes, but do you really think these 'oafs' as you so put it have any idea what half the supplies are on sight?"
"Considering most of them have probably been addicted to at least something over the past few years of their lives?"
"You have a point... Shall I let another one of those brutes outside in?"

Emelie took another drink of the glass of wine and sighed.

"I guess so..."

There were no bars surrounding the group loitering outside of Emelie Shadowstar's office, but the room felt like a holding pen all the same. In one corner, a pair of Duros argued in their native tongue, whilst a tall human in midnight black leather paced restlessly back and forth like a caged animal. A rather expensive looking chair groaned under the weight of a Gamorrean boar, whose armour-plated backside barely fit onto the cushion meant for two. In spite of being sat down, he was still as tall as the figure in dirty white who stood against the wall beside them.

“You,” Trina Windgate singled him out with a wave. He lifted his helmeted head, saw the look of exasperation in the woman's eyes, and decided he needed no second invitations.

Even when the door closed behind them, Peregrine could still hear the growls and gripes of his competition, though he paid them no mind. His attention was instead on his surroundings, as behind the hollow dark eyes of his helmet, Peregrine studied and catalogued everything he saw. Everything smacked of wealth, though no in the showy kind of way a lot of gangster's enjoyed. The woman in charge – and there was no doubting that she was in charge, from the way she commanded the entire room with just the slight quirk of her lips – even had a glass of wine to hand. The Bounty Hunter's Guild meeting had been casual, but this was taking it to another level.

Another armored man... or maybe it was a woman. You never could tell sometimes, especially if they kept their helmet on. Which, Emelie was learning quickly, seemed to be a normal amongst mercenaries and former bounty hunters looking to try and make some "honest" money. Old habits, as Emelie was keenly aware of, died hard if at all.

"I'm going to get straight to the point here, as I believe wandering around the subject would be a waste of both of our times. Since you are here you are already aware of the basics of what this job will entail: Basic security upon my ships, possibly personally accompanying if not directly handling delivery of more sensitive shipments, and there is a quite real probability of even handling retrieval of anything that unfortunately was unable to be kept out of the hands of various pirates and other lowlifes."

The entire thing had been sickeningly memorized and her voice came out with the curtness of having recited it more than once that day.

"So simply put, I'm in need of someone who can keep their hands to themselves at times and is more than willing to protect my business by whatever means necessary at others. Do you have any questions regarding that before I start asking you the ones I have?"

It was all glorified escort duty, but in a strange way that appealed to him. It gave him the go ahead to move around, under the pretence that he was doing so on someone else's behalf. More to the point, he would be paid to be discreet – and if there was one thing he needed, it was to keep his helmeted head down. There was the implication, of course, of doing whatever necessary to safeguard the corporations interests, but a man doing this kind of job well could do it without getting blood on his hands – at least, I hope he can...

Crossing his arms behind his back, in a mimicry of military stance that came back to him all too easily, Peregrine nodded. Experience told him that he was likely to learn more through simple observation - of the woman's attitude, her business practices and so on - than by questioning her in such a formal, contrived setting. When he answered, he metered his words in as neutral an accent as he could muster, the sound of his voice slightly amplified by his helmet's vocal unit. “Understood – and I've no questions so far.”

For a moment she said nothing, simply took a small sip from her glass of wine once more as she eyed the, (if he voice hadn't been altered...) man in front of her. The military style stance wasn't a loss to her, though it didn't give any answers right out about him either. That was another thing she didn't care for when it came to armor, Emelie loved to read people through their expressions, tones of voice and whatever bits of emotion they gave off that she could pick up on through a weakened ability in empathy that she possessed. The armor made all of that practically impossible.

"Very well..."

She was silently loathing the entire atmosphere of all this. Sure she was looking for someone who could quite possibly work for both Silenus as well as her own little organization, but the fact that the company came first had forced this all upon her. Otherwise she'd be back on Coruscant conducting this over several sabacc games and far too many shots in her bar.

"I suppose I'll start with the obvious and that would be any past experience you believe that would put you ahead of all those others waiting outside my door."

Past experience was something he had in droves, but Peregrine was aware of the possibility that he'd come across as over-qualified for the job. Sometimes, someone who'd earned their tickets and climbed the ranks was seen as a potential threat. What they might want was someone with enough brains to do the job, but not enough to want more.

“Five years in the Imperial military. Two of them aboard an escort cruiser, three on field promotion to Sergeant Major of 116th Special Platoon, PGO.”

PGOs – or political gain operatives – were nasty pieces of work. Men and women who were trained to act like terrorist's on worlds where the civil war was still rife. They would stir up the native populace into a state of panic, so that the people would be forced to make a desperate appeal to the Empire for help. Their skill was not in creating bloodbaths, but fear. Whether or not the woman standing in front of him would know any of this – or simply hear the words as meaning ex-soldier – was unknown. The story certainly seemed to fit with his demeanour, at least.

“What I have experience in is getting the job done,” he clarified. It was the truth – and in a way, so was the rest of the story.

A noncommittal "hmm" was given in response as her fingertips glided over a hidden console on the edge of the desk. Not a sound was made as a panel slid open that had been sunk down into the surface of the desktop, allowing for viewing of a small display. A few keystrokes later filled in the basics of what knowledge she didn't have regarding exactly what a PGO was. The rough definition was appallingly sugarcoated but it at least gave her more of an idea of what the man was talking about. Emelie could care less if he picked up on the fact that she was looking up information, she was a business woman after all and had little need to know the ins and outs of all the various military groups. Besides that, it may have simply looked as if she was making notes on her potential candidate.

The fact he was supposedly a former Imperial meant little to nothing to her. It was Xavier who was a bit soft for the Rebel Alliance and while Emelie was far from completely turning away from their cause, it was their ability to pay for things the Empire supplied itself that mattered to her. War was profitable, selling to those who had a hard time supplying themselves was even more so, and that was the sad truth to it. At the end, whoever ended up "winning" would still see most of what she did behind the scenes of Silenus as illegal, and a member of some reformed Republic wouldn't hesitate to prosecute her just as much as an Imperial.

There was one catch to what the man in front of her had said though...

"Sergeant Major, that's a fairly impressive rank is it not? With the current conflict going on I would think they would hold on to men such as that. So by whose accord is it that you are no longer with the Empire? Yours... or theirs?"

It was obvious the answer she wanted was going to be more than a simple either-or answer though Emelie doubted any real details would be given.

In his experience, the Empire had two paths to retirement – you either fell in battle, or you died in your sleep, still wearing the duty greys and pips of an officer. There was no calling it quits. You were either in, or you were out of an airlock. Then again, he'd known of men and women in the Rebellion who could be just as ruthless...

“If it was theirs, I wouldn't be standing here in front of you.”

Straight and to the point, Emelie hadn't expected any different though still found it somewhat disheartening. She did have to admit to herself though it was preferable to the last guy who had answered every last one of her questions in the form of some epic story she was sure was full of go se. Though, considering the quality of the individuals her call for someone to work security for Silenus (complete with an overly generous starting pay, nice benefits and a possibility for advancement) had brought out, Emelie had already begun to wonder if any of the candidates had been truthful to anything they had said. Maybe she should have had Trina draft up the requirements so it hadn't sounded like every average thug in the 'verse would do.

"Fair enough."

The thought that every last one had been lying also was making it harder and harder to make a decision. That was the problem with trying to do everything with an actual legitimate cover, you couldn't come right out and start asking questions about if someone had previously worked for a Hutt or if they'd sell you and your cargo out the second someone offered them a better bid.

"I take it this didn't happen just yesterday, though. I'm curious as to why you are interested in this position. It seems almost below what someone with your skill set could offer in other areas."

Contract killing, merc, body guard for some rich guy's trophy wife... She let that all go unsaid, even as it lingered on the tip of her tongue.

A man with years of military experience, trained in all the subtleties of espionage, could have made a handsome profit in the galaxy, with the right contacts. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him, or rather the armour he wore. An attack dog with its teeth torn out, perhaps – or simply a tired old beast, over-worked and ready to settle into a life of comparative ease. Though he had no lust for blood, there was a passion in him still, but it was one that would take some time to thaw through the cold detachment that had gripped him since that day.

“I guess I'm tired of that way of life,” he answered after a time, his head rolling slightly to one side. “Too much blood on my hands already.”

Of all the candidates she had interviewed that day, the man standing in front of her at least had her curiosity peaked. Which was a far cry from the typical dren she'd been dealing with. There was something to be said for the ex-military type, even if all the ones she seemed to run in with couldn't have been more different from one another if they all had tried.

It was slightly unnerving to have him stand before her in complete armor. Something about not being able to see a man's face was moderately irksome. It made it harder to tell if he was lying to you. For all she knew he could have been a member of the Black Sun, they could have finally gotten word somehow about her operations and sent someone to spy on her... but then again, had anyone she had seen so far been any different in that respect?

"What are you looking to get out of this? A simple pay check?"

There were fringe benefits to the job. The chance to travel, to cultivate a network of contacts, but ultimately – at the crux of it – was the money. It was the gateway to everything else he needed, and without it he was just another faceless grunt ferrying cargo to and fro. With an air of resignation, he nodded.

“Right.. credits.”

She could understand that... in fact there was a lot of what he had spoken she could relate to in a way. It hadn't been all that long ago that she too would have answered that the job she'd taken on was just for the credits.

The discrete display on her desk was accessed further as the man spoke, this time actually taking notes... things to investigate later. The armor he wore itself was beginning to ask for attention. It wasn't every day someone dressed like an old clone trooper came waltzing through your door, though she did suppose there must have been some sort of surplus of the stuff available to those who didn't ask too many questions and paid the right amount of money. It added another subtle notch of things she couldn't help but consider.

The glass of wine at her desk was raised and brought to her lips in another small sip as she considered what else to ask. Normally when considering someone for this type of work she would have just thrown them on an assignment and went from there, but too many damn candidates had actually shown up and the last thing she wanted to do was send out an army of brutes into the galaxy acting under her name.

"As I mentioned, pirates are always a concern with us. Freighter ships are often targeted, I'm afraid. We've been lucky so far but it is something I have to keep in mind. I rather not start blood feuds with criminals so while, yes, I may unfortunately need you to get your hands dirty... I also need someone who can avoid that. How are your negotiation skills?"

She paused and let her eyes once more look over the man before letting her lips turn upwards in a small smirk again. "And please, feel free to actually elaborate this time. I don't need examples, per say, but I would like to actually know if you are capable of the level I may require."

Diplomacy wasn't something he'd expected to be especially necessary for the job. There was a certain amount of canny weight to holding a gun to someone's head, the kind of weight that was hard to ignore or defy. Of course, it wasn't good for business to carry on that way – unless you were the Empire – so it was only natural that she'd want someone who could talk their way out of a problem, rather than shoot. If nothing else, it saved on the cost of ammo.

The truth was that he had acted as a diplomat on a level far above anything this particular position would demand. He'd met with politicians and royalty, and even broached the gap between the Rebel Alliance and the last of the Jedi Order – but there were few men who could make that claim, and distinguishing himself as one of them would put him on the first ship to Stars' End, or worse.

“I went through officer's training.. part of that included tactical reasoning and decision making. In Special Platoon, we did a lot of lying, saying what people needed to hear to get the right reaction.”

The heat inside his helmet and armour was becoming slightly uncomfortable, enough that he rolled his shoulders and shifted his posture restlessly. The lying didn't bother him any more – he'd been playing parts other than himself since he'd joined the Rebellion – but it would take a while longer before the clone armour sat comfortably on his shoulders.

“It's in all of our best interests, mine included, to avoid conflict anyway. Less hassle, less heat and a smoother, painless job accomplished.”

"Not to mention more profitable."

She almost considered toasting the sentiment with the wine, but that would have just been over the top. But the armored man had managed to say the right thing, or at least damn near close enough to it. The movements he had made had gone noted and she attempted to keep herself as disinterested looking as possible while making a few more notes on the console.

"You realize that you don't have to wear the full armor to make an impression..."

It wasn't a suggestion or even an offer, just an observance. If he wished to remove his helmet she certainly wouldn't hold it against the man. It might be nice to see exactly what your possible employee looked like anyway. Though, if he kept it on, it would be fun later on to tell Xavier that she honestly hadn't hired the man for his looks if he turned out to be attractive. She even had Trina as backup on that one. The thought let a smile form on her lips as she looked back up at her candidate.

"Well I suppose that only leaves me with one last thing to ask... and it's a rather simple exercise, really. No doubt you took notice of every other individual waiting out there. From your observations, tell me exactly why it is that you're better than they are."

When the subject of armor was broached, Peregrine felt himself tense. It would be a dealt breaker, there was no question of that. He had known from the beginning that the disguise would have its limitations, but was relying upon the don't-ask-don't-tell nature of business men and women, such as the one now smiling across the room at him, to ensure his face remained hidden.

Why are you better than them? In his minds eye, he rolled over each of the candidates who were vying for the position. One of the first lessons imparted to an intelligence agent was the importance of looking, really looking, and seeing everything that was around them. There were non-verbal clues to be found, the kind of things that could profile a mark within a matter of moments.

“The kid with the Corellian accent has got glit-biter written all over him. His teeth and gums'll be stained for life, no matter how hard he scrubs them. The big guy, with the krayt dragon tattoo.. all those scars make me think he's the type to thermal detonate first and ask questions later.” His hand lifted on instinct when an itch wriggled in his brow, but he forced it back down before it had moved more than an inch or two.

“The Trandoshan is a walking time bomb,” he added, as if that fact was a given. The lizards had some kind of religious devotion to aggression that made anything other than flawless, bloody victory over an enemy unacceptable. “Same goes for the Weequay. A little too much sacrifice for my tastes. You won't hear the guy coming, but you'll know where he's been when the screams start. The Rodian would be the best of a bad bunch, if he wasn't tagged by the Bomu Clan. That whole family is under the tail of a pretty nasty Hutt.”

This time there was no hiding the look of intrigue. While Emelie wasn't quite sure what exactly it was that she wanted to get from the man before her with her question, he certainly had provided far more information than she expected. Some of his observations had been noted by herself when they had been in the room, but then there were others she never would have guessed.

She cast a glance at her assistant who only gave a small nod before heading out of the room, her voice could be heard addressing the group outside before the door shut tight once more.

"Let me be honest with you, Mr..." The space was left if he so chose to give a name at that point.

"I'm in need of someone who can handle multiple positions." Her thoughts briefly caused a silent laugh. "While security accompanying shipments will be your primary role, I will occasionally have need of someone to act in the role of a personal guard, as well as perhaps head a team of security in other situations... I hope this will not be an issue?"

He watched her assistant go and wondered as an afterthought where the office's survelliance equipment was hidden. Although he had no interest in making any kind of hostile move against Shadowstar, it had always been a par for the course to try and identify the security equipment present as quickly as possible, when presented with such a situation. In the past, though, it had been a race between two contestants. With just one person guessing, the game lost its charm.

“Let me be honest with you, Mr...”

In the pause that followed, he filled in the blank. “Peregrine.”

The prospect of serving as a personal bodyguard was one that warranted some consideration. Although he had signed his mark on the bounty hunter's guild charter, it had always been his intention to work alone. Just the idea of taking on another partner was... unthinkable. How could he replace her? But that wasn't what this was about, he reminded himself, steeling his emotions with a breath.

I can lead, and I can follow.

“That won't be a problem.”

"Excellent."

Satisfaction highlighted her words rather than any form of excitement. Emelie certainly was a bit hesitant still on the whole having no real idea who it was she was hiring thing, but it almost felt good to be making a decision purely based upon someone's skills. Or at least what they had told her they were. Peregrine certainly seemed to at least carry himself better than any of the other candidates; and presence, as Emelie was so keenly aware of, could count more than just about any other attribute at times.

The back of her mind was letting thoughts out about regarding Xavier's approval of all this. He normally didn't question her, but she normally didn't take chances like this either. Everything lately had always been so certain, as non-risk as one could possibly get. It was boring.

"Well, I started this little interview one way and it only seems I should finish it off the same. Is there anything you want to ask me before we finalize everything?" Her hand raised to motion to the room. "You have a rare moment here. Anything that passes between us at this moment will not leave this room. I trust my assistant completely but I can understand that sometimes there are things which may need to be addressed simply between two individuals."

There were so many questions he could have asked, particularly when it came to matters of business. At that moment, there was a lot about the organisation's dealings that he didn't know. Where did they do most of their trading? Who were their key contacts? Did they operate within or without of the Empire's field of notice? It was all pertinent and no doubt would be revealed within due course, but not one of those questions fought its way to the forefront of his mind.

Neither did the questions about the woman herself. Who was she, and what did she get out of all this – besides credits, of course? Usually there was another reason for it all, some motivation routed in more than just plain greed. Not that the sentient beings of the galaxy didn't have the capacity for such simple wants, but Shadowstar struck him as a woman with a bit more about her. She was, at least on some level, being honest with him – and that was more than he could say about himself.

The itch was still nagging him, though, and more than anything Peregrine wanted to get away from the office and into the scalding steam of a shower. Failing that, a tall glass of something refreshing would do.

“Is there anywhere.. in this place I can get something decent to drink?”

The question almost brought a small laugh to her, but to keep it in, Emelie finished off the remaining wine in her glass. She couldn't help but, if that was about the first thing that left the man after she essentially told him the job was his, then perhaps he would fit in just fine.

"As a matter of fact, yes. There is an on-site bar for all employees and visitors. However,"

Emelie paused as her hand keyed in a small code to the console in the desk. A small hiss was heard as a hidden door slid open, revealing a cabinet completely stocked with various bottles and glasses.

"I must admit that I do keep the better stock to myself. The choice is entirely up to you. Also, If you need any sort of room accommodations either short term or long, we can discuss that now... or later. Either way."

“I'll take a single-bunk cabin, if you have one.”

Without invitation, Peregrine paced a few steps towards the previously concealed drinks cabinet. It shimmered and sparkled with bottles in all shapes and sizes, their contents a multitude of colours. He noted at least one amongst the collection that was illegal in Imperial territory and felt the barest hint of a smile twitch at his lips.

She nodded, not bothering to try and conceal the amused smirk at the man basically helping himself. Though, if nothing else, perhaps there was a hinting of anticipation to see exactly what the man looked like. Oh Emelie, you're fraking hopeless. She certainly couldn't deny she was essentially expecting some hideously scared Mandalorian at this point...

"That shouldn't be a problem. You'll probably be stationed in the area where most of our pilots are. But I wouldn't worry... they're not exactly your typical sort but certainly are a far cry from your average over compensating star-fighter pilot type. They should respect your privacy as much as you do theirs."

Still focused on the cabinet, it took a moment for him to give an acknowledging nod. Privacy was certainly something that he valued, though there was a worrying truth looming at the back of his mind always, reminding him that he could only stretch his thin veil of privacy so far, have it cover so much.

“I'm sure I've worked with worse,” he said, with an involuntary huff of laughter that didn't quite make it past the confines of his helmet. Turning slightly toward Shadowstar, he lifted his head. The drink would have to wait, for a minute or two at least.

“...How many others do you have on the books?”

A solitary fingertip ran along the rim of the empty glass, just about making it halfway around the circumference before she stopped the action and let her eyes refocus on Peregrine. On the books... The company then, not her own personal little collective.

"Throughout Silenus as a whole? Just shy of two hundred fifty. Those that you may actually have to deal with, however? Probably nothing more than a handful. The type of work you'll be doing will only involve our more skilled pilots, perhaps a few of the more trustworthy office personnel but I hardly doubt you'll come into too much contact with the average stock boy or mechanic."

Emelie remained seated, her hands moving to fold neatly in her lap, leaving one elbow to rest on one of the arms of the chair.

"Unless you wished to, of course. I'm certainly not about to tell anyone how to live their personal life. As long as you reside here, you're free to essentially treat the station like home - within reason, of course."

Two-hundred and fifty... It wasn't enough to revival the likes of the Black Sun, but it was a start – and yet Alliance Intel had never so much as acknowledged Silenus as an entity. They were just the right size to slip beneath the radar.

“No need to spend any more time than necessary with the others,” Peregrine said, his back now to the drinks cabinet, his arms folded across his chest. “Not exactly here to make friends,” he added, though there was something in the tone of his voice that took the edge off the chill in his words.

The eyes of his helmet were undoubtedly fixed on Emelie. “What's the first job, then?”

Although she felt comfortable in her decision, Emelie couldn't help but still feel marginally annoyed with the man. He may have been best for the jobs she had in mind, but he certainly wasn't in line with those she usually chose to associate with. He was, despite slightly battered armor, somehow more clean. Something told her she wouldn't catch sight of Peregrine lost in drink and spice in his off hours and that bothered her somehow. Though you couldn't entirely lose yourself in individuals of that nature, it tended to catch up with you for the worse in the end. Like it or not, a man of Peregrine's apparent nature was a necessity in her lineup.

His question though brought a small laugh from her, her thought of him being eager or straight to business going unsaid.

"I should have the details for you in a day or two. Nothing major, just some quick runs I'll need you to accompany. Until then..." A datapad was slid across the table. "Here is the information regarding where you will be staying if you remain on the station. Welcome to Silenus Corporation, Mister Peregrine."