[Solved] Fly Me to the Muun!

Wylli Hiimon opened his eyes as the civilian transport landed with a bump.  A tinny, cheerful voice announced over the speakers: “MuunSpace Starlines would like to welcome you to Mygeeto!  We know you have a lot of options when you fly, so we’d like to thank you for choosing MuunSpace, proud partners of the Intergalactic Banking Clan.  We hope you enjoy your stay and fly with us again soon!” All around him, passengers were climbing to their feet and getting their luggage out of the overhead compartments.  He stretched, yawned, and collected his briefcase from the seat below him.

Wylli was an experienced traveler and he quickly shouldered his way past gawking tourists.  Entering the space bridge, he began walking towards the starport’s terminal.  He barely registered the cheesy holosigns that flashed in neon lights, reminding him to “Fly MuunSpace!” They really needed a new motto, he thought to himself.  But nevermind, that wasn’t his business.  He didn’t really enjoy traveling on starliners, sharing space with people of all sorts and shapes.  Not to mention smells.  Landing wasn’t much of a relief - all that awaited him was a dingy starport followed by a seedy hotel and meals eaten at cheap diners.  Because that’s all the company would pay for.  

Unfortunately, as a traveling sales representative for Rothana Heavy Engineering, he spent the majority of his time traveling from crummy, back-water planet to crummy, back-water planet.  He’d heard that Mygeeto actually had something of an upper crust - not that he was likely to see it, with the amount of time and credits he had.  Some people thought it was exciting, being a traveling salesman, crossing the galaxy back and forth.  They just didn’t realize that 99.99999% of the galaxy was empty space.  And it didn’t matter how many planets you visited - somehow, the business hotels looked the exact same on the inside.

Still, it paid the bills.  Wylli was saving up so that his kids might be able to attend one of the nicer Academies in the Core Worlds.  This will all be worth it, he thought to himself, when I watch them graduate.  Then they’ll make something of themselves!  It was his silent battlecry - a rallying against the constant drudgery that defined his life.

He eventually found his way to his hotel - seriously, could no one on this icicle give straightforward directions? - and unpacked his small bag.  I swear, this is the exact same karfing carpet as the hotel had on Polis Massa.  Never mind.  He looked over his notes.  He would be meeting in the morning with representatives of the Pentastar Alignment’s acquisitions branch.  A certain Colonel Bernard.  Well, might as well grab a quick drink downstairs before heading to bed…

. . .

Wylli groaned and rolled over, slapping the snooze button on the little alarm-droid next to his bed.  It was the morning, and despite his aspirations, it had not been a quick drink.  He tried to sink back into sleep for a few more minutes, but he knew he had to get going if he was going to make his sales pitch on time.  Admitting defeat, he quickly got dressed and poured himself a mug of the hotel caf - not complimentary, he noted wryly.

Exiting the hotel, he waited impatiently at the hoverbus stop.  He was going to be late.  Again.  As soon as the hoverbus arrived, he strode forward and boarded, though not fast enough to get a seat.  He sighed, grabbed a rail, and held on amongst the other standing passengers.  “Next stop: the Pentastar Alignment planetary headquarters.” When the bus doors opened in front of a stark, gray building with the Pentastar symbol emblazoned over the door, Wylli pushed his way out.  Glancing at his chrono, he realized just how late he was.  Dank Farrik, he silently cursed as the doors automatically slid open.  Briefly stopping to ask for directions at the welcome desk, he hurried to the conference room where his contact was waiting.

Colonel Bernard, a sharp looking military man with a thin gray mustache, raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at his chrono as Wylli entered the room. A clerk of some sort sat poised to take notes on a data pad. Before Wylli could finish mumbling an apology for his tardiness, the colonel cut him off – “When I was your age, I was fighting in the trenches of Mimban - this was in the Clone Wars, mind you - and if I was this late, an entire platoon would be dead.”

Wylli blanched. How should he even respond to that? He began to stammer, “Oh, excuse me, um, you see, erm-”

“Well, let’s get this moving, shall we?” said the Colonel, interrupting Wylli’s feeble apologies.   

Wylli cleared his throat. “Right, erm, well, the Rothana Heavy Industries IFT-T, yes, well, it’s the premiere choice for light armor in the modern era. It’s, uh, an excellent choice for both counter-infantry or counter-armor warfare. The IFT-T is the ideal candidate to put down those pesky Rebels - wait, erm…” Was that who these guys were fighting?  Wylli couldn’t remember. Dank Farrik. He had forgotten to check his notes last night before he started drinking. “Erm, that is to say, perfect for fighting the, um.” He quickly squinted at his datapad. “Red Boon Merc - excuse me - Red Moon Mercenaries.” 

He stumbled through the rest of the pitch in the same manner, heaving an internal sigh of relief as he listed off the final few statistics (which he’d probably gotten wrong) about his company’s premium product.

Wylli knew he wasn’t particularly good at his job.  He wasn’t what you’d call a punctual person.  Nor particularly gifted in literally any department, especially anything that would help him in sales.  Thankfully, the IFT-T practically sold itself.  Despite his fumbles and tardiness, the Pentastar Alignment happily ordered two armored battalions’ worth of them.  After shaking hands with the brusque Colonel, Wylli packed up his advertising materials and headed back to the hotel.

He quickly packed his meager belongings and attempted to retrace his steps to the starport.  He failed, miserably.  When he finally arrived, Wylli was puffing from the exertion.  He was on the very next flight off-world.  He wasn’t sure where he would go next - he’d get that assignment from Corporate.  Bustling his way through security, he ran through the terminal, just in time to catch his flight.  As he shuffled down the starbridge, he glanced at the holo advertisements. “Fly me to the Muun!” Huh.  That one was new.  Almost worth a smile.  Almost.