First Reply Letting the Heat Cool

[Eaton Waters]

Checking the lines, Eaton was nodding to himself. That should hold. The man was back home on Pamarthe, doing what he did between big jobs, relaxing and letting the heat die down. It was easy to disappear when you knew a place was not going to mess around with the outside law. Eaton wasn’t so worried that they’d find him anyway.

The galaxy was vast and he had a tiny little A-Wing. It was more a racer than it was anything else, nothing for people to really have a big fight with. He wasn’t a freighter captain, just a racer with the ability to move highly sensitive data around and just the right designer spice to be placed in the hands of the right wealthy politicians.

Or in their back pocket without their notice, if someone needed to get rid of another politician.

It all paid the bills.

The Waters household on Pamarthe was in the more sub-tropical region, and this week there was one of the storms that came and made the air breezy and warm, but not too humid. Eaton was walking back of forth from his airspeeder to the small sailing vessel. Cooler, spearfishing gear, portable player for some music.

He looked up at the sail of the boat again, a small catamaran. Orange and blue like his A-Wing. “Should be all ready.” He muttered as he looked down the beach. Fishing, then back to the house, that was at least his hoped for itinerary.

 

[Safiya]

​

Nothing in the Galaxy stirred Safiya's soul quite like mercenary work. The thrill of the hunt; the promise of payment...

Today's prey was, in a way, unremarkable. Outer Rim smugglers were dime-a-dozen, and she'd bagged enough of them in her lifetime to lose count; whether they were alive or dead depended entirely on the kind of bounty put on their heads and the current state of her mood.

Unfortunately for her quarry, reading her expression was something of a challenge in itself, given how rarely she cared to smile. There was nothing but the appraising gaze of someone who dealt in corpses for credits. Ruthless, professional, and always keeping her eyes on the prize, may it be her next payday... or the promise of adventure out in the stars.

What this crafty little bastard had done to end up on someone's naughty list was not something she cared to learn. Seeming him so exposed, out in the open, thinking himself safe? It would almost have made her smile, if not for how bored she was with the simplicity of this mission. The heads-up display of her headset's lens was quick to return the results to her; the face description matched the provided details. Eaton Waters. A forgettable name for a forgettable man.

The pace of her steps was downright nonchalant as she approached the quaint little catamaran, spinning her weapon about in her hand. An exotic piece of tech, by any measure, and one that left others more than a little befuddled at times. Blasters were all fine and good, but they lacked style. A bounty hunter using a blaster was unremarkable, but a bounty hunter relying on a throwing weapon demanding such grace? Now that fed into her legend just right.

"You know, laying low's usually something you do somewhere a little less tied to you", spoke the bounty hunter dryly. "Just a piece of advice, much as you won't get the chance to use it, now."

 

[Eaton Waters]

Wasn’t a bad day after all. Gonna get out, do some diving, do some fishing, all before the storms started to free up and the air was going to start cooling. Eaton had a few things that were going to help keep him busy while his fighter was repaired, and while he awaited the larger bit of smugglers and data runners to pick him back up for another job. Or until he figured it was time to get back out there and be what the Core folks called useful.

Or a race circuit picked back up again. It was a good cover, after all. Being a starfighter racer allowed him into all sorts of systems for different events and with a back up freighter for the parts of his racer.

When he saw the approach of the other, with the tech, he offered a smile and nod. As she started speaking, he could only have a little bit of a laugh to himself. “A little less tied to me? But whats the fun in that? Home is where one feels safe. How’d you get out here?”

And more important, who put a hit out on him?

Safiya

 

[Safiya]

Eaton Waters
​

The mercenary had to give it to him; he certainly fit the picture of the charismatic smuggler to a T. No begging, or trying to bargain for his freedom; both those options annoyed her more than anything else. She had a reputation to uphold, and turning on an employer was not the kind of thing the criminal underworld tended to forget.

"Yeah? Plenty of folks I kill thought they were safe until I was knocking on their door." Not quite a threat as much as a nonchalant observation on her part, still spinning that tri-bladed slicer of hers around her hand. If he was quick, he might just jump out of the way and avoid her throw - but more than one person had been caught in her weapon's return path before. The look of surprise on their face as they were bisected never got old.

"You're not as smart as you think you are, for one. And second? You should know better than to stick your fingers where they don't belong. Politicians have no spine, but they've got some deep pockets, and they hold a hell of a grudge."

Fishing a small satchel of spice out of her pocket, Safiya threw it onto the sand between them.

"Looks familiar?"

The thing about slipping spice in a politician's pocket is that it gets them in a scandal. It breaks their reputation in the eye of the public - it might even get them in jail...

... but a vengeful, rich man still has a long, long arm indeed.

 

[Eaton Waters]

Sometimes smuggler. Sometimes. The postings always missed that. Yeah, Eaton had his holo taken by most governments. It meant he had to work just a bit more hard to keep himself from being actually arrested. But all the wanted posts, they always said smuggler first. He was so much more sophisticated than that. Just because he did move the goods from here to there, it didn’t matter.

When you were in the high profile white collar crime market? It was just a courtesy. His true skill was forgery, and counterfeit, and knowing a fake from a real before he stole it.

She had him over a barrel, that was for sure, but Eaton was far from helpless here. Speargun not too far. Quick roll, maybe. But shirtless, even then his natural skin wouldn’t prevent damn near anything from hurting his actual self. But hybrid. Ocean was home. And Pamarthe added the layer of knowledge. So, delay?

Delay.

He stepped forward, nonchalantly, near the cooler was a half eaten sandwich. Cucumber, fish, greens. Simple. He grabbed it. “Fairly certain I may be worth more alive than dead.” He didn’t typically, or on purpose, kill anyone. He had a gun, sure, but it was more for trick shots and to scare. His real tool was his knife and wits.

Seeing the satchel, he knew that he had a task recently, but how recently? Well, his mind wasn’t thinking, to blackmail a senator. “Is that from the Corellia trip, or one of the Alliance’s Coruscant gang?” Another bite of the sandwich.

Safiya