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All Rebecca had wanted was some kriffing peace and quiet after a near miss on her latest route, ambushed yet again by Rupert's minions. Smuggling and trading had never been an easy feat, usually she relished on the challenge or lack there of from neanderthal stormtroopers. Yesterday was just a little too much of a close call, the Greyhound narrowly escaping the fray with scorch marks and a badly damaged circuitry bay.
It's understandable she's irritated, tired and in need of some peace whilst she drowns herself in hooch. However just like an easy job these days, Rebecca is in short luck since some tiny blonde she's never come across before seems hellbent on not leaving her alone and trying to spread some bullshit message about needing help and becoming a vital part of the resisitance. It's like she wants to get arrested with how she's going on, seemingly unaware of the walls having ears and there being nowhere to hide across the galaxy anymore.
"Shut the fuck up," she snaps, slamming her empty glass on the table top.
“But-“ The small blonde is persistent she’ll give her that, if anything. Her ponytail bobbing from how she's throwing herself into the recruitment pitch, swishing with determination to continually piss Rebecca off.
“This isn’t my remit.”
“Aren’t you like a sexy smuggler though.” God would tiny not give in, did she honestly have nowhere else to be? There were plenty of other smugglers across the galaxy, most of them fucking awful, but they would at least be more than willing to help her out on whatever quest she needed help with. Her long blonde hair and big doe eyes would be a ringer with the sleezy guys who usually frequented these establishments, they'd be wrapped around her kriffing finger no doubt if they weren't too busy stealing Rebecca's least favourite customers.
They'd be happy to assist, however, it's likely they'd ask for a fee Rebecca isn't sure the woman would want to give, perhaps some of them would take it unwillingly and that's something Rebecca could never condone. As much as she wants the woman to leave her the fuck alone, she can't abandon her to such fates at the hands of other smugglers.
Rebecca hadn’t always been a smuggler, she wasn’t born into this life, then again no one was. Instead, she was born ranks above, a daughter forbidden from entering the dangerous parts of the city. Her parents' ruling didn't stop her from escaping to those parts with her handmaid Sassy, often as a teen she would sneak from the palace to the pod racing tracks. Attend, sometimes fly in the race, and win them when she did. That's all it was at first, simple fun and an act of common rebellion. With a mother as Princess of Naboo and a Senator for a father, smuggling was never an option on the cards.
“I’ll take the sexy, but it isn't enough and before you ask there isn't ever enough flattery to get me to smuggle people. I don't do it and I especially don’t jailbreak pretty little princes who get themselves caught on the wrong side of Mannion.”
“Aren’t you like totally pissed off at Mannion though, the storm troopers have gotta be driving your trade route mental?”
For all the wrong moves she'd been making so far in persuading Rebecca to help the cause, that's the one thing she's gotten right. Thankfully, Roy comes over to save her, a welcome buffer against the birght as fuck human embodiment of sunshine. Even the two suns of Tatooine couldn’t compare to whatever fuel cell the young woman is running on.
“You’re like basically involved now.” Sunshine argues, stamping her impractical heeled boot Rebecca didn't think was suitable for any planets in the inner circle, let alone the ones in the outer reaches.
Roy just grunts in greeting, sliding into the booth next to them and handing over another shot of jet juice.
“You shot Cartrick and-“
Rebecca cuts her off quickly. “He shot first and that was nothing to do with this kid, look what’s your name?”
“Keeley, well that’s what Prince Ted and Sam called me. My real name is KL-3e4”
“Wait you’re one of fucking them?” Roy’s sudden outburst breaks Keeley’s laser focus on her. It's the first time he's properly spoken since coming back from fixing the fuel cells up and Rebecca doesn't think it'll be his last word on the matter now they know the woman before them is nothing but imperial trash.
“No, we’ll not now, I ran, couldn’t do it. I found some resistance pilots and they took me to Ted and B3-ird who let me help and named me Keeley.” She explains quickly, eyes swimming with tears. "Like I was taken and made to do this shit as a kid, I didn't wanna do any of the crap they asked from us so I ran, you have to believe me."
“Right.” She nods, somehow following the convoluted tale apparently spanning the galaxy. Rebecca knows she can't trust the ex-stormtrooper in front of her, at least not just yet, she does believe in her story and already knows of the horrors in how Rupert normally recruits from his army. One planet at a time he steals the young, leaving only the weak behind in barren landscapes, surrounded by the bodies of dead loved ones. The 'lucky' ones picked to join the army fair little better, losing all humanity to become soulless killing machines.
“Ted saved me, saw I didn't wanna be a stormtrooper and let me be like part of the resistance," she says, her quiet tears falling, splashing the table. "But now he's been captured and we really need your help because apparently, your crew is mad fit and the Centurion Greyhound is one of the fastest ships in the galaxy. Ted’s on this weird moon place we think, we tracked the signal he sent out a few days ago.”
“You don’t specifically know where the Prince is?”
“Mad fit?” Clearly, she and Roy have taken in completely different parts of the conversation. He's normally so distrusting of everyone, yet he seems taken into the tale sunshine is spinning, happily brought into her orbit because she finds the sweet hairy man 'mad fit'.
“Yeah like she’s a scary tall blonde smuggler with crazy strong rancour arms, and you’re kinda like a sexy hairy Wookiee.”
Frankly whilst the conversation has been mildly irritating, breaking the Prince from wherever he is, does sound like a challenge. And Rebecca was seeing the immediate future being completelt boring, especially with the Empire clamping down on the Brentford run, forcing them to take on shorter jobs she could have easily completed as a teenager. She's more than a little bored of the Kessel run now and with jobs drying up, Rebecca really misses having a go at a good challenge.
Plus the added bonus of it all is getting under the Empire's skin. If this challenge means she pisses off Rupert, sorry Darth Divortium (what a stupid name), and maybe interrupts the strange flirtation going on between an ex stormtrooper and her co-pilot then that’s just an added bonus.
“Fuck it, I’ll do it.”
"Oh my kriff," Keeley squeals, diverting her attention back to Rebecca. "You will, do you wanna know the odds of us pulling this thing off? They're fucking mental!"