My name is Jayshiea Elmerie Naer-Kolta. When my little sister was born, her first word was my name. But she couldn't say the whole thing, you see. All she could say was "Jay-jay". After that, the name stuck and all my friends now call me Jay.
Now, I'm usually a pretty forgiving person. I didn't complain when I was a kid, watching the Republic fight a war that was obviously little more than a power play for the rich and privileged. I didn't bat an eyelash when I watched the HoloNet reports that said the Jedi had been revealed as traitors and that the Chancellor had declared himself Emperor. Hell, I was willing to give some people the benefit of the doubt when the Imperials branded me a traitor for a crime I never committed.
Now I'm running out of mercy. I am done giving people second chances.
Since my imprisonment, I've built up a new life for myself on Mandalore, a near-backwater planet on the mid-rim. With help from my partner, I've built up a reputation as a skilled, reliable bounty hunter. A few months ago, I didn't think I could go on after my fellow pilots were killed in action. But thanks to the help of some really great – and a couple really weird – Mandalorians, I've managed to move on with my life.
Too bad it's all been turned on its head again.
I want to blame my partner for never telling me about who he really was. I want to put all the blame on his helmeted head. He led me along without telling me anything, and I put up with it like the trusting fool I am.
Funny… it all started with Vhetin freeing me from jail. He was the one who rescued me, brought me to Mandalore, and taught me the skills needed to survive in this ruthless galaxy.
I guess it's fitting that it should all end with him, too.
