"Who cares about the teeth on a gift horse? Make sure it isn't wearing a suicide vest."
My first impression of Taris as I disembarked from the final shuttle from the liberated freighter was that the planet smelled like an open sewer. Except that the open sewer smelled slightly charred and had been allowed to ferment for around three hundred years. And that it was uncomfortably humid. And there was a noticeable amount of grit in the air.
Needless to say, I did not like Taris from the very first second.
Especially since I could not see any of what was so deeply offensive to the senses. Wherever we had landed, it had tall concrete walls – or duracrete, or permacrete, or what have you – with the ground made up of the same smooth off-white material. Leaving the source to my imagination just made things worse.
"Luck always does bring me to the most interesting places," I commented, keeping my voice low as I got a look at my welcoming committee. A pair of soldiers clad in the orange-accented white armor of the Republic army, blaster rifles resting casually in their arms. Behind the left one, a medical droid was already directing its scanner in our direction. Soft green light washed over me as its diagnostic system chirped.
And behind those three stood a middle-aged twi'lek woman in a plain but well-made and closely tailored grey robe. With very visible shoulder pads. From personal experience, I recognized it as high-class Republic fashion. Which meant that the person receiving us could only be one person.
Governor Saresh.
I stifled the urge to get into Diplomat Mode. Here, I was Janus, not Nestor. Lovably dramatic rogue Force-user, not the galaxy's sanest Sith. And I had to act the part.
So I stayed loose, so to speak. Shoulders relaxed, an unhurried gait, and the subdued swagger of a guy who had been riding the same high for the past three days straight. Perfectly ordinary, though I suspect the rumpled clothes helped cement that impression. Which meant that my actions had to cement that first impression.
Why? Because it stopped people from asking. Once their first impression was proven correct in their eyes, they took it as a proven fact.
And that fact was simple: Janus the rogue Force user was not Nestor the Sith diplomat. Really, just making that connection required quite a jump in very tenuous logic, so I should have been safe. Still, it never hurt to emphasize the differences. Like the fact that my face was visible.
"Quite the welcoming committee," I commented loudly before I was even off the shuttle's boarding ramp. "The people of Taris sure know how to make a guy feel important."
"Some might consider the elimination of a band of pirates to be something important," the twi'lek woman said, her tone sardonic.
"Careful. Words like that'll make it seem like there was a bounty on the people whose ship we stole."
"You stole," Sarna, the woman formerly known to me as prisoner 2, corrected. Ultimately, the entire bridge crew had insisted on leaving with me, making for a slightly cramped ride down on the final shuttle. "We'd still be locked in their hold if it hadn't been for you."
"It was a team effort," I insisted. After all, had it not been for them, those pirates would have recovered from their temporary distraction and gotten around to killing me.
"Be that as it may," the twi'lek governor interrupted what might have turned into a slight disagreement about false modesty, "as the Senatorial Supervisory Governor of Planetary Affairs of Taris, it is only fitting that I reward you for ridding us of at least a few criminals. And again for taking a bit of pressure off our shipping lanes."
Okay, yeah, this was Saresh after all, already throwing around her political weight. How disappointing. Where was the appreciation of soft power? Of personal allegiance that was earned instead of rented? No, why bother with anything so old-fashioned instead of simple and easy-to-use institutional power?
"Credits are always good," I allowed. "And easy to share."
"We will make you accept your share," Mourd, the kid from the technical station, insisted. "Mister not-a-Jedi."
"A Jedi?" The governor asked. "That is quite a pleasant surprise."
"Not a Jedi, just a man with some not-all-too-unique gifts," I corrected. "No vow of asceticism to get in the way of credits, you understand."
"And does this man with some 'not-all-too-unique gifts' have a name?" the governor asked. "So I know what to put on the property deed."
"Janus," I answered before my brain finished catching up. "And what's this about a property deed?"
"Mister Janus, I am rebuilding a ruined world," Governor Saresh said. From her tone, I could already tell that this speech had been rehearsed and practiced. That I had not been the first person to be told this. "And a world needs inhabitants. Since you are clearly a man of not inconsiderable talent, it would be irresponsible of me not to invite you to stay here."
"So you're just giving me a place to live?" I asked. "Excuse if it sounds like a trap to get me to stay here for some tax reason."
"Please do not misunderstand me, Mister Janus, this is a special economic zone," the governor said with a polite smile. "The Taris Project, and all those contributing to it, are tax-exempt and government subsidized."
"That is a very good tax reason," I admitted without hesitation. Damn it, that piece of information would rattle around in my noggin for who knows how long, I could already tell. Yeah, galactic peace was nice and all, but a tax-exempt life was one of those things you always wished for. Except that this entire planet smells like a burning fermented sewer. "But what about my friends?"
"Land is cheap, and the bounty for a pirate freighter and eight different shuttles is upwards of seven digits," she answered. Quick mental math revealed that to be… still quite substantial when split a couple of dozen ways.
My talk with the governor could not go on forever. She had things to do, and I had no desire to get involved in the politics of a Republic world. Thus, I left to do my thing. What was my thing? Getting off this rock. Could Governor Saresh get me the money to get a shuttle off this world? Almost certainly. No doubt my share of that implied bounty would cover that much.
But it was not just about getting off this world.
It was about getting back to imperial space. I could not just take a direct flight from Taris to Dromund Kaas; That did not exist. I needed a ship of my own, something I could take on an indirect path to imperial space. Or, better yet, ditch on another world and blur the trail leading back here even more.
Except that that idea would likely involve a detour to Hutt Space.
Then again, Hutt Space was a pretty good place to set up a hideout…
No, focus. I needed a ship. The best place to get one, aside from a legitimate dealership, was to steal one from pirates. According to the newscasts that were blaring from every public kiosk, there were plenty of pirates on this world.
Thus, I needed to get a ship from them.
Probably through violence.
So I left. I left the fortified confines of the Central Tarisian Reconstruction Zone. Right out the front gates on a speeder meant to take me to one of the outposts. Except that I ditched it a few kilometers later as I flew above a swamp filled with an almost safe level of contaminants and toxins.
There had been broadcasts about areas not to go, and places not to be. And this area was close to one of the main pirate hotspots on Taris. Judging by the massive hammerhead prow of a starship jutting out from the landscape, I could just about guess where they had taken up residence.
How the thing had managed to avoid disintegrating or shattering on impact, I did not know. How it had not been taken apart by an orbital bombardment and centuries of neglect, I did not know. All I did know was that there was a very big starship that pirates were using as a base.
And I was going to kick them out.
Easy.
Now, why was the ground rumbling?
...
Hey guys I would really appreciate it if you could throw some power stones to help elevate the ranking.
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