(( OOC: The following is for my SWTOR character, Captain �Jackie� Rees. It’s a holo captain’s log. This is a quick and dirty journal to keep up with recent action. ))
The holovid opens with Jacqueline in relaxed garb, her coat hanging on the swiveling captain’s chair behind her. Her legs crossed, an elbow is propped up by a knee and her chin rests thoughtfully in her hand. A glass filled with presumably alcohol lingers nearby. As she speaks, her stewing thoughts are clearly heard through her words.
“Crew is growing nicely. We’re taking on the larger jobs and making a name for ourselves. No new bounties or enemies to be had — yet. You don’t do business and make nice credits for too long without pissing someone off.”
Jacqueline uncrosses her legs and stretches in the chair. She reaches and taps at a console outside the holo capture’s lens.
“Looking at an interesting job. It’s not the first time I stepped into some family drama but this one rivals the nobles on Alderaan. The spoiled son hates the father — that’s a tale older than most suns. But this rich boy takes it a step further. With all jobs, I’m looking into both and investigating my marks,” she sighs. “Keeping it to protocol: Investigate the mark, yes. Investigate the marker, first.”
Propping up her elbow again, Jacqueline turns her head and leans into her hand, reading from something off screen. “Kid’s not old. No mother. Born into more credits than most on any galaxy will see. Is into notoriety and appearances more than quality. Stocks his bar with expensive but terrible booze. Oddly confident about flying, so looking into that. No one challenges a hot shot without something to back it up. The challenge also come from nowhere, between heavy-handed flirts. Either it’s a high-stakes rouse for a date or we’re getting peek of something else.”
Jacqueline continues, reaching for her glass and taking a sip. “Father mentioned rich boy hasn’t flown in a while, so significant life event buried there. He even laid a bet on him, so terrible-awful dad apparently thinks highly of his boy. He’ll even come to the race. Convenient. Rich boy is also Force-sensitive but pretty open about hating the Force, Force users, and anyone who labels him such. Or labels him as anything else. Teasing him is painfully easy and could be used as an easy distraction.”
She swirls the glass idly in her hand as she reads: “Known weak points aside from fragile ego and potential obsession with my ass: More theories than actual conclusions. Kid has some secrets. His father isn’t exactly chatty either, but to be expected considering I’ve only met him on Coruscant and he’s a Sith. Being too friendly on the wrong planet gets you fried.”
Tapping a few buttons on the console, she sets the glass aside and continues. “Put in a few spikes at Coruscant entry points. For a Sith to get on Coruscant, some good credits are being paid. Looking into known high-profile traffickers who service rich clients. Sith daddy is likely using a moniker or is being registered as low-key cargo. Typical smuggler tricks. Narrowing down the field to traffickers who don’t mind being slipped credits from Sith now and then. That gives us a few likely contenders. And a few that I know. Small galaxy we live in. Next time papa shows up, I’ll have my trail.”
“Which leads to another point: Where rich boy gets his funds. I’m willing to bet his credits are still being funded by the father he so hates. Another spike or two will let me see the flow of credits. That’s another trail. Not my favorite kind of slicing but numbers don’t make themselves up for fun. They come from somewhere.”
Leaning back into her chair, she downs the last of her glass. “That’s the start. Typical operations haven’t even started yet. Been taking too many other jobs in other arms of the galaxy to start full throttle. In the meantime, rich boy is eager to kick my ass in a race. Force-sensitive or not, he’ll know better than to challenge a full-time spacer. Some of us do these things the hard way.”
“This is Jackie signing off. Captain out.”
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