OOM: Classified Ads, Part the Second
It had been about three days since Val was on Tatooine. The little girl, whose name turned out to be Karina Plainsman, was the daughter of a rich merchant, who booked her passage to Coruscant, in addition to giving her a place to sleep for the night, and food for the trip. They had insisted as well on getting her some new clothes, so she could present her article to the holo-news people in style. When she left, she smiled to herself, hoping she could get back and thank the lovely people sometime.
On her way there, Val tried to be reasonable, to figure out how the hells she was going to get home. Eventually she realized that if she was stuck here, she might as well make a few connections. She smirked and decided to jump in with both feet. It was time to use her talents and write.
Val was now in the offices of the largest holo-news agency, armed with, an article on the current political climate in the falling-apart Empire that she'd written on a public terminal and found someone nice enough to lend her a few credits to put on a cheap little datapad-disk. She'd already shown it to about five levels of people, somehow convincing them that she needed a job, and some credits quickly. As with all beurocrats, one person passed her to another, until she ended up sitting in the office of the head of the department which dealt with political correspondance.
"Miss Janson? He'll see you now." The secretary-droid was the model of efficiency. Val stood, and strode into the office.
The man behind the desk, one Mister Trappano, was a sturdy man, who looked Valentine over. "So, you think you have what it takes to write for us, Miss Janson."
Not even flinching, Val crosses her arms exuding a confidence that she doesn't exactly feel. "If you do not hire me, sir, with all due respect, I can find another paper who will better appreciate my talents. There are quite a few other news organizations on this planet, and in the galaxy."
For a moment, Mister Trapanno actually looked a bit nervous. "Oh, no, Miss Janson. Do not think that I will ignore your obvious talents so quickly. However, it is a question of compensation, really. This organization is under quite a lot of stress..."
"Sithspit. No, you're not, and you know it. Just like any other media group, you have more credits than you know what to do with, they are just all going into the pockets of the executives and the editors. Writers get nothing, and we do all of the work for you." She smirks. "Perhaps I should go back to freelancing. I know a few places who would pay quite a substantial amount for a story on the corruption of the media...."
Trapanno sighs, a weary sigh of a man who loves money quite a lot, but is forced to give it up. "No, Miss Janson. You won't have to go back to freelance. I would like to offer you a job as a correspondant on the war. Figure out what in the hells actually went on in the Death Star, who's taking over for the Emperor, and what is going on with the Alliance. Write up a good story, and we'll publish it. I'll even give you extra if you can get an interview with that Skywalker brat. Rumour has it that he's saying he's a Jedi now." He pauses. "All expenses paid, of course, a reasonable flat here on this planet, and a good salary." A smirk. "That is, if you can handle undercover."
Val beams. "Oh, I can handle it, sir. I'm wondering, though, if you all can handle me." A smirk. "Shall I find my apartment today, then? So you can sign the lease for it?"
"Of course, of course. I wouldn't dare ask you to start work right away or anything." He grins. "You're a firey one, Janson, I'll give you that."
"I try my best, sir. Reporters have to be." With that, Val walks out to get details from the secretary 'droid. This was going to be fun. The back of her head, however, was still nagging at her. She had to get home, and soon.
On her way there, Val tried to be reasonable, to figure out how the hells she was going to get home. Eventually she realized that if she was stuck here, she might as well make a few connections. She smirked and decided to jump in with both feet. It was time to use her talents and write.
Val was now in the offices of the largest holo-news agency, armed with, an article on the current political climate in the falling-apart Empire that she'd written on a public terminal and found someone nice enough to lend her a few credits to put on a cheap little datapad-disk. She'd already shown it to about five levels of people, somehow convincing them that she needed a job, and some credits quickly. As with all beurocrats, one person passed her to another, until she ended up sitting in the office of the head of the department which dealt with political correspondance.
"Miss Janson? He'll see you now." The secretary-droid was the model of efficiency. Val stood, and strode into the office.
The man behind the desk, one Mister Trappano, was a sturdy man, who looked Valentine over. "So, you think you have what it takes to write for us, Miss Janson."
Not even flinching, Val crosses her arms exuding a confidence that she doesn't exactly feel. "If you do not hire me, sir, with all due respect, I can find another paper who will better appreciate my talents. There are quite a few other news organizations on this planet, and in the galaxy."
For a moment, Mister Trapanno actually looked a bit nervous. "Oh, no, Miss Janson. Do not think that I will ignore your obvious talents so quickly. However, it is a question of compensation, really. This organization is under quite a lot of stress..."
"Sithspit. No, you're not, and you know it. Just like any other media group, you have more credits than you know what to do with, they are just all going into the pockets of the executives and the editors. Writers get nothing, and we do all of the work for you." She smirks. "Perhaps I should go back to freelancing. I know a few places who would pay quite a substantial amount for a story on the corruption of the media...."
Trapanno sighs, a weary sigh of a man who loves money quite a lot, but is forced to give it up. "No, Miss Janson. You won't have to go back to freelance. I would like to offer you a job as a correspondant on the war. Figure out what in the hells actually went on in the Death Star, who's taking over for the Emperor, and what is going on with the Alliance. Write up a good story, and we'll publish it. I'll even give you extra if you can get an interview with that Skywalker brat. Rumour has it that he's saying he's a Jedi now." He pauses. "All expenses paid, of course, a reasonable flat here on this planet, and a good salary." A smirk. "That is, if you can handle undercover."
Val beams. "Oh, I can handle it, sir. I'm wondering, though, if you all can handle me." A smirk. "Shall I find my apartment today, then? So you can sign the lease for it?"
"Of course, of course. I wouldn't dare ask you to start work right away or anything." He grins. "You're a firey one, Janson, I'll give you that."
"I try my best, sir. Reporters have to be." With that, Val walks out to get details from the secretary 'droid. This was going to be fun. The back of her head, however, was still nagging at her. She had to get home, and soon.