Noventa - A Star Wars Story

"No, can't say I do," she admitted, honestly. "Mercenary like him doesn't quite aim to reveal what he doesn't have to."

"I know of a few people who might be interested..." Lena thought deeply. Perhaps a strafing run?

"Any idea where this guy is coming from exactly?"

"Alright then, I'll be sure to come on by," she said, raising the glass to her lips once more as she glanced out over the counter. "Well, you're welcome to stay and drink but I won't keep you now."

"Hm. Come over to the clinic where I'm on staff. I'll work things out from there." Yara extracts a card listing the contact details of the Neda Ulaby Medical Center from an inside pocket of her jacket and slides it across the bar. "I expect we'll meet them somewhere else, but I can take you over."

"If it means bringin' folk out here who might wish to do some good, I'm all for it. Just tell me where I need to be, I'll turn them to it," she said with some of that inner confidence. Trust in humanity.

Yara drums her fingers on the side of her caf mug. "Think you might make it into town tomorrow? I can introduce you to whomever's available. You'll find out if they're interested, at least."

"Sector Rangers got all of Noventa to protect, can't quite divert all those officers of theirs to this little town here. 'specially seein' as how we have plenty of warnin' about it. Now, these people you speak of. We could afford to pay 'em, it won't be much. Just what we few can scrounge together out of this place but it'll be payment all the same. If they're proper mercenaries, no doubt they'd still see this as mere charity work, but I'm willin' to make our pitch to them if you think they'd sign on.|

"Hm." These people are going to get themselves killed, Yara thinks unhappily. "If you don't think you can go to the Sector Rangers about this... I may know some people who could help. But I doubt they can afford to risk their lives for free."

"His life," she said with a dire sense to the word, "Folks like them. They take to bein' insulted rather harshly. They ain't gonna be good and done until he's six feet under, and while some others might be willin' to make that sacrifice. I won't even let him think about it, and we here won't be puttin' up with any demands of handin' him over. So, these folk and their deep pockets can come for him. We'll be right here. Waitin'," she raised her glass first and then took a drink as if to add a proper punctuation to her idea.

"Are you so sure there's no way to resolve this without violence?" Yara's brows draw together and the faint lines to either side of her mouth deepen a little. "Whoever sent these people has deep pockets. Picking a fight with their hired guns may not make them back off. Couldn't Wesley just turn over whatever they want from him--money? Information?" She shrugs, sympathetically. "It's a raw deal, I know, but if the alternative could see someone killed..."

"Wesley knew what was coming his way, was passin' through when I found him. He insisted he had to leave to keep everyone safe, that this was his problem. I insisted otherwise. I am much more of a stubborn gal than he could ever claim to be," she said, relaxing in her pose.

"With that said, that man is likely gonna come back here with friends. That much of I'm certain. May be a different way out where you come from but even knowin' that we ain't the type of folk to raise our hand against another first. So, they'll come, and with them they'll probably crush this little town of ours off the face of the map."

"That is," she said, knowing the trapping nature of her words. "Unless you folk can gather up some folk to help us out of this mess. Not any way through it than a few more guns and a proper defense of the town, I reckon. Thinkin' you got friends like that?"

Lena listened. "Did he reckon any more trouble would come his way?" She leaned onto the bar, taking another sip from her bourbon.

"Was, a local," she corrected, reaching for her glass again. "Boy grew up around here... was born just as I was startin' to learn about the birds and the bees. Had some hard times and left to find some real work offworld. Boy had a talent for the gun, you see, and he made use of that offworld some. Wasn't the sorta kid to bring trouble back home, well, not till now anyway. Don't really care what they think they can do, Wesley belongs back home. Givin' the man a chance to live the life he's earned is the neighborly thing to do."

"This Wesley is a local?" Yara arches her eyebrows as she sips her doctored (hah) caf. "What in the worlds could a local farm boy have done to bring a hard case like that after him? I'm no expert, but that fellow looked expensive."

"Hear tell of it he's going to run off back to his employers, promises to bring back an army with himself next time he comes through. I'm not goin' anywhere, and I'm not gonna give Wesley up," she shrugged, took a drink and then laid the glass back down on the counter. "Way I see it, rest of the town can make their own choices."

"I can't speak for Ms. Arcturus, but I'm rather invested in not having to patch up unnecessary blaster wounds in this neighborhood," Yara puts in. "Not my favorite task."

"Grew up around here, his names Wesley. What's your curiosity leanin' toward, stranger?" she asked, eyeing Lena for a moment.

"Oh?" Lena asked curiously, taking a sip of bourbon. "Guy have a name?" she asked idly.

"That guy he's looking for," she said, taking a glass and leaning into her seat. "He's here."

"A problem?"

After considering for a moment, Yara peels the top off her caf and tips a small amount of the bourbon into the hot drink.