(An image flickers for a moment, and the face of an old man with a graying beard stairs into the recorder with a melancholy expression.)
Another day on this world, and the Sith haven't been turned back. If this keeps up we'll-
(There's a blurring and the old man flickers out, replaced by a much younger face- Jarric Harn. He frowns, adjusting something then nods to himself.)
Alright, I think I got this thing up and running again. Had to hard-wire the old memory core from Warbler's holorecorder into the ship's recording device. I think it's working now. I can't access any of the old records, but I guess it doesn't matter. Nothing in there for me now anyway.
I've arrived on Ord Mantell, finished out the contract for Corellian Transports and Exports. Didn't help that I lost half my frakking leg... but I guess it doesn't matter. They paid me enough I'm able to afford a half-decent replacement this time, none of that going through shady underworld chop shops to have my body worked on by guys who make sadomasochism seem like a-
(Image flickers and the old man is back, shaking his head at the recorder.)
I hate it. All around you, you see kids getting butchered. The Sith blow up our boys, we blow up theirs... it's just so pointless. I miss the old days. When Dantooine was whole...
(The old man raises a bottle of something and tilts his head back, obscuring the image. When the bottle lowers, Jarric is the one drinking.)
Well, I guess that will do for a new start to these recordings. Have to make contact with my handler from CTE... says they're looking to offer me some more work. Wonder what I should plan on having lopped off this time.
(He raises his bottle in mock toast, then reaches down and switches off the camera. As the image flickers off a quiet voice can be heard in the background.)
Always finish the job, son.
(Screen flickers on with Jarric leaning back in the captain's chair, pondering quietly.)
Going out on a job soon. Some kind of salvage run to a derelict pleasure barge that broke down on the outskirts of the system. Seems simple enough- though I'm glad they're sending me some additional hands. Nothing quite so boring as a big dead spaceship just floating there, and me having to drag whatever components we're picking up all the way back here by my lonesome. After all, if I have to break my back to get paid, someone else ought to as well.
The droid they have giving out the contracts... Janice, I think they call her. It. Whatever. I've decided I seriously just don't like her. It's not the sassy attitude or that strangely appealing feminine tone... it's the eyes. Beady little points of light just piercing down into your soul. Of course a droid can't give you a 'look', but that's part of the problem. A droid shouldn't be able to feel hate either, but every time I speak to that thing I get the unshakeable feeling that she just straight hates organics right down to her core.
Ah, but I guess it's not a big deal. It's not like the thing has a personal grudge against me. I just show up, get my job, and stay out of the way of anyone higher up on the payroll. It's not like it was before. Not so much responsibility and pressure to look out for others... I like it. It's nice not to have to keep people at arms length when they're all trying to get closer to you. I don't mind having friends or anything... but this is business. Getting too close just complicates things, and I've had just about enough of those thanks.
Think I'll get some sleep now. Maybe I'll head to Pete's later, get a drink or two.
(Jarric leans forward to flick off the camera. As he does so the screen flickers and a woman's face stands over the back of the chair, smiling sadly, then the image flickers again and the feed shuts off.
Image flickers for several moments, and a woman can be seen reaching down to touch the face of a passed out man in the pilot's chair.
"Shh... shh... it will all be over soon. Just rest child. Rest for a moment with me.
There's several more flickers and the image changes to Jarric Harn, leaning back in his captain's chair, wiping his face with a bandanna.
"Never thought I'd be going back. Nar Shaddaa. What a cesspool, and me walking around with a big bullseye on my back the entire time. Managed to get the cargo dropped off and moved on to less inhabited sectors. Didn't stop two more bounty hunters from trying to collect on my way between Hutt Space and the Outer Rim. Managed to take their ships out before things could get ugly, but I don't like to think about what might happen if any hunter managed to recognize the Venture and decided to leave a surprise for me during one of these runs..."
Jarric's voice drifts off as he looks around the bridge, then picks up a shot glass of some glowing green liquid. He downs it, making a face, then tosses the shot glass away.
"I need to find a mechanic I guess... do some refits on the Venture before we get pulled into actual combat. No major jobs from CTE in a while. Not that I mind not having a freaky looking protocol droid calling me up at all hours, but I was hoping for some larger takes on these jobs. I should complain more. Be more outgoing... like that Tyron guy. Wonder where he's gotten to? I could use a drinking buddy tonight..."
The image goes static for several seconds, and there is one last shot of the woman standing over and comforting the man sitting broken in his captain's chair, and then the screen flickers off.
Jarric appears in the captains chair. The image comes in clear, as if this were a more recent entry.
Figures, I'd end up back in Hutt space. So far no one's tried to collect on me, and I'm hoping to leave well enough alone while I'm out here. Finally got my leg fixed up- the cybernetics and neuro-wiring was melted and partially fried from my little tumble down near the lava pit on Ord Mantell. I still say that counts as hazard pay, but Jeos seemed to think otherwise. What good is hazard pay if it doesn't cover volcanoes?
At any rate, the Doc (guy by the name of Ubbit, real stand up Zabrak) got me patched up, and now I'm short 4,000 creds, but I guess it was probably worth it. Asked me to drop him off on Nar Shadda. Of course, I couldn't very well leave port without picking up some paying work- quick jump over to Quesh to drop off some organic goods for the workers in the mines. Whole cargo hold smells like an orchard.
I ran into one of the Myrunjis a few weeks ago... it was strange seeing Spenta without having to salute or wait for orders. So far I've kept my new 'business' partners and my old military life entirely separate. I think that's for the best... leave the past in the past, and keep my eyes fixed on the future. Still, I know if they asked I'd probably find a way to help out... how could I not? I know I don't owe the Republic any loyalties after what happened, but can anyone really forget about people who were like family? Just hope if and when they need me, it doesn't conflict with CTE's interests...
That's gonna be an exciting day indeed.
Jarric leans back, taking a deep breath and reaching over to drink something from a filled glass.
Guess I need to get back to that contractor on Ryloth. Tyron's probably right... there are some lines a man just shouldn't cross. The money's right, but I don't think I could drink away that kind of guilt. I thought I'd killed my conscience when I was screaming for her to stop cutting away my organs. Guess some things don't die quite so easy.