Saga - PT Leaving Coruscant

Just outside of Coruscant's manufacturing capitol. At a small inconspicuous diner a man is sitting alone in a booth. Taking one last bite of his sandwich he drops his napkin on the plate. Clack, clack, clack. He hears the splash of fresh caf pouring into his mug. He looks up at the girl with a warm smile.

“Thank you.”
“No problem hun, can I get you anything else?”
“No, just the check is fine.”

She pulls out a small card and taps it against her datapad.

“There you are hun,” setting it on the table, “Have a great day.”
“You as well.”

Clack, clack, clack, she walks away. Sipping his caf the man steals a glance at his watch. He exhales slowly. Plenty of time, but he can't afford to be the least bit late. One last sip. The warm bittersweet liquid rolls over his tongue. He wraps his fingers tightly around the mug feeling its warmth. Now or never.

Standing up he loads 15 credits onto the holocard. Fastens his jacket and presses his palm against the cold metal door headlong into a rush of cold, dingy air. His shoes tap quietly against the composite floor of the balcony as he approaches the edge. The man stands there for a moment watching the cars zip by, listening to the rush of air. To the left is a bright yellow one driving slower than the others. He whistles and raises his arm.

“Driver!” he shouts.

The car pulls up to the balcony, hovering for a moment while he opens the door and steps in. He's greeted by a dank, smoky smell and an older fellow with a thick bushy beard,

“How can I help you today friend?” The driver asks with a smile.
“I'm headed to 33rd and 21 prime, ground level”
The driver frowns,
“Sorry bud I try to stay away from that area.” He strokes his beard, “Tell you what, I could drop you at 33rd and 20 it's not a long walk.”
The man raises an eyebrow,
“Sure that's fine, I could use some fresh air.”
“Yes sir.”

Gliding away from the balcony, the car speeds off into the cityscape. Settling himself into the soft seat, the man lean his head back.
“Here we are my friend,” says the driver.
Cracking his eyes open the man rubs his face, must have dozed off.

The car decelerates to a halt on the ground level of an old building. Two floors of it are covered in a beautiful, mosaic-like brick facade. Various shades of red and brown in swirling patterns.

“Always have enjoyed the architecture here,” the driver recalls, “Used to play sabac with an old man on that corner over there.” He points to the next block over, “It's a shame the criminals who took over this neighborhood make the rest of us look disreputable.”
The man smiles,
“I agree.”
The driver glances at the meter,
“That'll be 8 credits my friend.”
“I appreciate the lift have a good day.” He pulls on the handle.
“You as well friend, stay safe.”

The man steps out shutting the door behind him. He straightens his jacket and breathes in. The same dingy air. This time with a hint of illicit substances. Taking one look around and a quick glance at his watch, he begins walking toward his destination.

10 minutes later he arrives at a well kept storefront. Much different than the brick building, it has textured metal accents, brightly painted walls, and a thick glass door. Pushing it open the man is struck by the wide open space and the soft, creamy lighting. He turns right and is greeted by a young Twi'Lek girl sitting behind a black desk. She smiles as he approaches,

“How are you doing today?”
“Just fine, thanks.” He replies, “I'm here for an appointment with Mr. Caragille.”
“May I get your name?”
“Jet Pohta.”
She glances at her screen and back up at him.
“Alright you can go on in, he's just finishing a call.”
To the left of the desk another wooden door slides open.
“Thank you.” He walks through the doorway and takes a seat at the edge of the room. As his eyes adjust he notices a blue holographic figure on the desk across from him, with a brightly clothed man standing over it.

“No! That's not what I meant,” replies an impatient Caragille.
“The life support isn't your problem, we don't need it to transport the droids. Listen to me Raz you better get that damned ship in the air with some cargo or you'll be hard pressed to find anyone on the planet to do business with you.” Glances upward at Pohta,
“We'll talk later.” Click.

Stepping out from behind the desk the businessman walks purposefully towards his guest, extending his hand. “I do apologize for making you wait,” Pohta grasps his hand,
“I'm sure you're a busy man.”
Caragille grins,
“There are many benefits to having a monopoly on off-the-books space travel.”
“I can see that. You seem to do very well for yourself.”
“Yes, yes sir I do. Now what can I do for you today Mr. Pohta?”
“I'm looking for transportation to the outer rim.”
“That's a long journey, just yourself?”
“Myself and a few bags of my stuff.”
“I may be able to help, where are you headed?”
“It's a planet in the Hoth system.”

The businessman frowns thoughtfully and picks up his datapad, “I don't believe we have any routes headed that way...” after a series of taps he looks up,
“We don't have any routes on that side of the galaxy, and probably won't for many months to come.” He sets the datapad down, “The best I could do is fly you halfway to Mon Cala and try to organize an unlicensed transport from there.”
“You mean a smuggler.”
“That's correct. It may take a couple of weeks of travel, but I can get you there for less than 4000 credits.”
Pohta crosses his arms thoughtfully.
“I don't think hitchhiking is an option. I need this journey to be untraceable,” he pauses, “What do you charge for a charter?”
Caragille picks his datapad back up, “Our background checks didn't reveal any criminal history on you, but if you're trying to evade the…”
“I promise you Mr. Caragille it's nothing like that. I just don't like the direction The Republic is taking and would prefer to retain my privacy.”
Caragille smiles,
“Good, I have 3 ships right now. One, is too slow for the outer rim. The others are a freighter and a scout. The freighter will be,” taps the datapad, “just under 50000 for an 8 day journey and the scout 70000 for 6 days.”
Pohta doesn't blink, “There will be no stops?”
“That's your decision. It's 60 credits for every hour the ship is parked.”
“Tell me more about the freighter.”
“Oh it's an excellent ship, very fast, holds up to 60 tons, not that you'll need it, and is maintained by my own crew…”

Pohta steps back out onto the grimy street. A dense fog has begun to settle into the street. 24 days. 3 weeks to sell as much space in that freighter as he can without sacrificing his anonymity. Tomorrow he will quit his job. The day after, his search will begin.

​

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Thank you so much for reading. I enjoy all criticism no matter how harsh so long as it is honest, please don't hold back or sugarcoat. Looking forward to your responses. ​

 

Welcome to fanfic.

As far as holding back and sugarcoating goes, this thread explains the only way it's allowed here. Basically, you have to allow people to criticise you and it can only be done in private. But at a first glance, other than missing spaces and punctuation here and there, I see nothing wrong with this story. On the contrary. It could use some preface (good example here).

Jet Pohta is an interesting character from the very beginning. Captivating, mysterious and obviously either knowing something we don't know, thirsty for adventure or - well - both. He's obviously got a plan and whatever he's going to do on Hoth has got to be suspicious, given that "he doesn't like the direction the Republic is going" and his desire to retain anonymity. Hmmm. Good setup.

What I also liked were these little sensory details - the clack clack clack of the waitress' heels (or whatever else she could've had in case she's a droid), the cold metal, warm bittersweet liquid. One can tell that this person is ahead of an important decision, because everything suddenly seems so intense.

Looking forward to more.

 

Thank you for such a warm welcome Ewok. Looking forward to your continued concrits.

 

Hi evan7! I echo Ewok Poet's welcome to fan fiction. I have to say that I really enjoyed reading this. I think you do an excellent job of both setting scenes and character dialogue. I got a very noirish feel from this and I like it. You took very simple settings, such as the diner, the cab ride, and passage office and made me feel like these minor situations were important. It called atmosphere and have created an excellent one. There we no overt SW references, Hoth excluded, but there was enough to let me know that this wasn't Los Angeles in the late 1940s. Excellent writing, evan7! Now, with a little formatting help, you'll be in tip top shape.