Carry the World

[Xazor Elessar]

Xazor's eyes made their way from Marcus's face to Sejah. She smiled gently and nodded.

"Good morning Sejah, and indeed, our night went well. Did you have trouble sleeping or was there something else keeping you from having a good night's rest?"

She questioned with evident concern on her voice for one whom she considered a friend. Her eyes curiously went over to Stig who made another rude sound and then seemed to smile up at the Jedi Knight. The Garou just rolled her eyes slightly and then focused on the door where someone was knocking.

"Coming!"

With a quick reach to the doorknob, the young woman pulled the door open to reveal a well dressed man carrying a tray full of food and drink. Nodding in recognition of his arrival, Xazor stepped to the side to let him in when suddenly a flash of silver and black whipped through the small living area and past the man. He juggled the tray and then the drinks atop it went flying...landing right on Xazor. Her eyes shut tightly and she growled deep within her throat, though the Knight surpressed her anger and smiled as the man apologized.

"It's fine....it's fine, worse has happened to me...honestly."

Sighing and looking down at her soiled clothing, the woman looked over at Marcus and shrugged.

"I didn't promise you that my wolf wasn't coming. Sorry...."

With a look of disapproval toward her companion, the beautiful wolf came and sat down upon his haunches beside Xazor. She looked down at him and signed something to the deaf animal and he obeyed by going and laying down near Stig. Sighing, Xazor took the tray from the man and placed it upon the table.

"I'm sorry for all this....maybe could you get us some more Namana Juice, please?"

The man nodded and went off to fetch what the woman asked for. Turning to face Marcus and Sejah, Xazor sighed with a helpless smile.

"Guess I'll have to dry this off."

And with those words, the Knight closed her eyes and concentrated deeply on the Force, then called upon the atoms surrounding her. She began twisting them and making them rotate around one another, creating a bit of friction that could only be found in the atoms inside of an oven or something of the sort. This went on for several minutes until it was notably quite warm around the young Garou woman....and her clothes were drying before their eyes. It was not a magnificent deed, but it was useful and it was one of the first things she had learned how to do, though it took her longer to do it than most. She opened her eyes and then looked over at Kaukauna who was now busy staring at Stig's plate of food. The cat hissed at the wolf and Xazor rolled her eyes at his antics.

"So what exactly are we doing today?"

She asked with a curious smile and then a yawn that she couldn't help. Xazor noticed that she had been getting more tired lately and had bouts of morning sickness. It was not fun, to say the least, but Marcus had been helping as much as a man could. Still, one could not hold back the Garou...she was bound and determined not to let her pregnancy get in the way of anything.

[Helenias Evenstar]

<font color=green>

Doctrine of Bluebird - Sect 12c1

Bluffing

It is noted that bluffing is not something to do as a first resort - it is a last resort. A bluff must sound resonable and factual, not be over the top. It also helps if you have a reputation of not bluffing, but acting. It is noted several operatives of Bluebird, notably James Tohmahawk and Pierce Tondry, were noted for their actions and hence they got such a reputation that bluffing became a viable alternative. Granted however, these men planned in case of failure, always had fallbacks. On the very rare times they had to resort to a bluff, it worked as their enemies did not expect the bluff and thought they were capable of the actions they supposed. Thence, the bluff works best for a person with a reputation of not bluffing. It is an interesting paradox, but I assure you, an accurate description.

Beings with a perchance to bluff get known quickly.

Thence, to bluff well, you are best to have acted in the past. Keep that in mind and also, as noted, plan for failure and backup plan. If then you have to bluff, it has a higher chance for causing a hesitation, which you may use as time to really act.

From the annals of Project Bluebird, file copy</font>

--

Oh Lord, what a rotten morning. I had gotten up with one of the biggest blazing hangovers I had ever had, far, far too early. It was totally out of character for myself to get so drunk, but it was with good cause - we had been out celebrating the promotion of my Padawan, Oriadin. I failed to remember how many drinks the revellers had in the Bar and Grill, but we were fairly wasted by the time we had gotten to Dexter's. And if the lack of memory served me even a tiny bit, the alcohol flowed even more there.

Now I thought about it, I remembered table top dancing. Not myself thank the Force, although I was blasted enough to do it - I remembered vaguely some Jedi nude with a set of underpants on his head. And outside there was the urination of the balcony contest. And the Padawan dropping his pants and lighting a fart, singing pubic hair. I also seemed to remember Lion El' Jonson showing off som truly eye and mind boggling porn slides...

The clock blinked the second time period past dawn. Quite early still, but far, far, far too early for someone with blood in their alcohol system. Like me. I crashed back, head hitting the pillow as I looked up, the blinds of my Senatorial apartment straining out the light into neat and tiny bands on the far wall. I closed my eyes, fighting the queasy feeling in my stomach, trying not to throw up.

To no avail. I gagged, barely containing bile. Even in my sorry state, I made remarkable time to the refresher, locking myself and quite noisily throwing up. And in the next fifteen minutes, repeating the dose. In between driving the ivory speeder, I sat on the cold tiled floor, the hangover really starting to mke my ears pound and my eyes throb.

What had I drunk? Cheap Wookie home brew? Fosters? A Jedi Toilet Duck? Must be the Toilet Duck, I felt crap enough that I must that tried one of the Galaxies most dangerous and nasty alcoholic concoctions. After emptying the contents of my stomach a few times, I eventually felt well enough to unsteadily get to my feet, clean the mess, strip off and have a hot water shower. I allowed the hot water to seep into my skin, tight as it was over a body that was fit almost to an extreme, rippling muscle and damage from a hundred combats evident. But also fair skin, dark long dark hair and a flawless face that was even for one as self critical as myself, undeniably beautiful, almost to an extreme. A face it had been commented on, should be on fashion holos, not for years ripping opponents to pieces in the heat of battle. And right now a Jedi Knight of growing stature, the Senator of Arcan.

Quite difference in my former life, where I was the main protagonist who wiped out the Jedi Temple, the original one of the GJO. It's remains could be seen from the Senate Apartments, now with construction cranes beginning to be erected, beginning to repair the structures now that the Jedi were back on Coruscant. That bought me some amusement at times, thinking back to my Imperial past and rather... well... how would you put it? I frowned, trying to think of the right word, but it would not come, so instead I turned off the shower and went to dry myself.

10 minutes later, I was at my desk in another room, with a cup of tea at my elbow, a hangover reliever beside it. In the adjoining room, I could hear the snores of Oriadin, newly minted Knight and also my attendant. Thinking about it, maybe he had been the one dancing nude on the table...? Whomever it was, he was rather impressively endowed and had ended up with two females pawing over him.

Wonder what happened after that? I could vaguely remember the air cab....

I blinked, drawing my concentration to the diary holo. No real appointments today thankfully, I was feeling fragile and ready to throw up again.

I bolted for the refresher and barely made it.

Half hour agian, I was back at my desk. Midday I was booked for a spar. I cancelled that. 2 was a talk with the Ambassador for Mogwai. I felt I could cope with that, so I RSVP'ed. 4.... oh no, Trade Federation. Blech. And 7 was the damnable Cizerack and that frelling Calan dispute. Oh great, just great. What I always wanted. Maybe I would can the Trade Federation visit, sleep and meditate...

Behind. One man. Speeder. Rocket launcher pointed at my back....

The image came to mind suddenly, but even then I did not question it. I grabbed the gun that was under my desk, then leapt as only a Jedi could, clear over a bar setting and crashing onto the floor, covering my head and waiting.

Oh hell, what about Oriadin...? I hoped he wouldn't walk into the room just.....

WHAM!!

Th room exploded into a hail of shrapnel that would have cut me to pieces if I wasnt behind cover and even then I was cut as pieces bounced everywhere. The roaring of the explosion made me scream sliently in the pain of the overpressure on my eardrums, the shattering and crashing of glass not stopping for seconds.

I came up as fast as I could after that, to see the speeder was already at the remains of the window, two beings getting out, with weapons trained on me. Reacting as fast as I could, I shot one dead, but the other already had me targeted.... but the attacker instead was the one to lose his head, it popped like an overripe melon from the shot of a man coming through the front door, gun in hand looking to kick some serious butt.

He scanned the destruction, before turning to me.

"You all right?"

"Yes, thank you. Looks like I owe you one Pierce"

The big man nodded, before we both snap-aimed at a bewildered looking Oriadin, blearly coming out of the remains of the room he had been in. I relaxed, but kept my finger on the trigger, bringing the gun upright in a ready position.

Oh great. Assasination attempt number two. I was much glad I had asked Pierce to look after my security for a few days. As well as a few other things. Oriadin was trying to puzzle out whom the other man was, so I decided a quick introduction was in order.

"Pierce, this is my former Padawan, Oriadin. Oriadin, Pierce Tondry"

[Oriadin]

Oriadin was laying in a state of being half asleep. His eyes opened from time to time to check the time on his bedside clock. It was getting late but he simply didnt want to get out of bed. He turned over to face away from the window where the light was shining in on his tired face. As he did so, it felt as if someone had set off a mini nucular explosion inside his head. He winced from the pain.

"What happend", he quizzed himself. He couldnt remember for the life of him what had happend. Had he lost his memory again? He remembered his head hurting the last time it happend then one by one some of the memories came back. That ruled out amnesia again.

--The celebration--

He said out loud with another wince of pain. A slight movement resulted in a wave of pain, from his head and spreading across his whole body. He couldnt remember much at all from the night before. Perhaps that was a good thing. Oriadin wasnt a heavy drinker. Infact, he usually always drank water. Only on two occasions had Oriadin drunk alcohol. Last night and a recent 'night out on the town' with his friend Sejah. "This is the last time" he thought to himself.

He checked the time again, almost an hour had passed. He must have been dosing in and out of sleep while he was thinking to himself.

--I really need to get up.--

He took several deep breaths, almost as if to psyke himself up. Then mustered up the strength to sit up in his bed. His room was a wreck! Clothes scattered about, pictures on the wall at a slant. The bed sheets were littered about the floor. He looked down to see him sitting there naked. Very odd, he thought to himself. A pair of non to flattering pants lay on his pillow. "What the? Probably better not to ask" he thought to himself.

As he looked down he suddenly noticed he had an extra arm. His bleary eyes and mind trying to work out how that was possible. He lifted one hand to his face and rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasnt seeing things. He wasnt. He followed the newly aquired arm and discovered a beautiful looking blond laying face down next to him. Like a shot Oriadin stood up.

--Oh my god!!--

He wasnt even sure if Jedi were allowed to bring women back to their rooms. Who the hell was she? Oriadin began to feel very hot all of a sudden and his heart began to race slightly. What had he done the night before.

He stood and stared at the woman for a few minutes before deciding hed better get dressed incase she woke up. He'd got the trousers of his Jedi robes on and a shirt before a large explosion was heard from next door. Had he been 'with it' we would have rushed next door, lightsaber at the ready but instead he clutched his head in pain as the noise was so loud. The girl in Oriadins bed woke up. Oriadin had to get out of there. He quickly walked round next door and came face to face with Helenias and another man. Bleary eyed he tried to look inside the room to see what had happend before he yawned.

--Everything ok here?--

His voice seemed very deep and rough compared to his usual tone. He tried to focus on Helenias but he couldnt seem to get his eyes to work properly. He then glanced at the man, trying to figure out who he was. Then Helenias introduced them. Oriadin held out his arm in order to shake hands with the man. He was just about to say hello when he quickly withdrew his hand, brought it up to his mouth and made a mad dash to his bathroom.

That was soon followed by a rather unpleasent sound of Oriadin bringing up whatever it was hed drunk and ate the night before.

[Sejah Haversh]

It seemed everyone had a pet but himself. Sejah had heard of Marcus' cat before, but had not perchanced to meet the feline until the day previous, and he didn't know what to think of Xazor's wolf. All he knew was that he was waiting for someone to give him some kind of direction, and that he hated Namana juice.

In response to Xazor's question, he rubbed his back to demonstrate as he said, "Well, that mattress doesn't do much for the back, I'd say, but I still believe it's probably better quarters than whay our loving Admiral would have given me." His voice was nearly dripping with sarcasm. The Admiral had made a grevious blunder the day before, and Sejah still was a bit put off by it.

[Sanis Prent]

(I'd forgotten about my newfound fame. How such things could now be taken for granted. At any rate, I was nosediving into a bitter mood, and it wasn't likely to get any better.)

Look...whatever we do, lets keep this little pit stop as brief as possible. I'm not exactly comfortable in Cizerack space, and noting your nefarious exterior, you shouldn't be either. All I give a damn about is breaking even from this little trip to hell in a handbasket, and keeping alive enough to enjoy another day. So, you'd better hope your digital alibi is airtight...these guys don't screw around with smugglers.

[Rima Xavier]

Rima scowled at him, but decided that denying her smuggler roots was pointless, as he'd certainly gotten a good look at the interior of her cockpit. Non-standard weapons, and upgraded shields, as well as a few other extras spliced into the ship just for kicks. It was tricked out, and worked like a dream...but flying into the middle of the Carshoulis Cluster wasn't her idea of fun.

She pursed her lips, and made a face at the thought of the Cizerack getting their dirty paws on her baby...the (she scanned the transponder) Habitually Late. The name made her smile, but Rima quickly swallowed the grin in favor of another frown.

"We're there in a hour, so unless you want to hide in the deck plating in the passageway for the entire time, you're going to have to think up a good cover story yourself, flyboy." Rima knew of one person...one, in all of Carshoulis Prime, who might turn a blind eye to her ship. Any mechanic with half a brain looking in this bucket would know what was going on. Which was why she usually went to Nar Shaddaa for retrofitting and tuneups. The motivator is going to cost me...and a bribe as well.. Rima pressed her hand to her head to ease her headache, and Sanis could see some faint scars from fist fights criscrossing her knuckles. Bacta would normally heal without a trace, but apparently she either hadn't had the time, or just hadn't taken the time to get her hands cared for.

Rima opened her eyes, and crossed her arms across her chest. "Radish is my daughter. Adopted daughter. There are people who want me dead, and I'd rather not get into it." Better not to mention that Red was the real target. Not for assassination, but kidnapping. Too many questions get raised when a child is the target of a bounty. A smuggler, on the other hand? Old hat. "I know a tech on Carshoulis Prime. Human, raised on the planet, but made his way into the universe before returning and settling in the dirty part of town. As a celebrity, I'm sure you've never been."

From the look on his face, nothing she was saying was making him happy. Rima sighed, "We'll request clearance to land, and limp to Yarshu's shop. He's one of a few males who actually own a business. Because he's human, and because he's just that good. Plus, he's so ugly no female would take him. I met him on Nar Shaddaa a few years back, and his work is top notch. The motivator should take a day to put in. We'll be out of there in no time."

Rima didn't mention that they hadn't gotten along on Nar Shaddaa, and that motivators for Chevette77's were notoriously hard to locate. If he had one in stock, sure, a day. If not, probably five to ten days, depending on what was happening in the trade routes. With the Imperial Sovereignty flexing its muscles and moving troops willy-nilly through the galaxy, there really were no guarantees. Peace was becoming endangered as Grand Admiral Desaria sought to entrench himself firmly in his corner of the galaxy.

She pressed her hand to her head again, sitting down suddenly as a wave of nausea overcame her.

*flash*

A woman with long dark hair leapt up from a desk, barely clearing it as the entire room was shot to frelling hell from a concussion missile. Two men leaped in through a broken window, both dying quickly as the woman shot one, and another man shot the other. The dark haired woman turned, and looked at the man, then at another man who entered the room from a side door, and they seemed to speak for a moment before the second man ran off. The woman looked at the first man who had saved her life, and then seemed to look through him to Rima.

Rima and the woman froze, as if it were really happening. Or was it? How could she think through the vision? Rima frowned in confusion. Never before had she entered a vision that was not about herself.

The other woman reached out towards her, and then the entire scene expanded like a balloon and popped.

Her eyes opened, and she looked over to see Sanis relaxing in the co-pilot's seat. "I..."

"You passed out again." He sounded vaugely concerned. After all, his life was basically in her hands, and she was woozy.

Rima gingerly touched the synflesh. It was itchy. "How long?"

"Half an hour."

That shocked her. It hadn't seemed that long. Maybe four minutes total. There was a headache centered between her eyes, and it wasn't from the hit on the head in the speeder. "Pain...meds?" Her eyes tried to screw up against the pain, and then they shot open again. "Diego!"

Rima sighed, closing her eyes lightly. "Okay, well...you two males need a cover story to match mine. Or I could just dump you out of the cargo bay during entry." She grinned. "Actually, that doesn't sound too bad."

[Diego Van Derveld]

He looked about, blinking as he stretched. Every joint in his body seemed to pop, relieving the tension and trauma of his recent accident. The myriad of lacerations he suffered were now shrunken and pinkish...nearly healed. Tying his hair back, Diego rose to his feet, staring at Rima.

"Fancy running into you again."

Allowing a thin smile, his eyes turned to the man.

"And Mister Prent? Your reputation preceeds you."

He slumped into a seat behind the two, rubbing his temples.

"So, we're headed to Carshoulis. Not my choice of vacation spots, to be sure. Might as well make the best of it, though."

Reclining the seat, Diego closed his blue eyes, taking a nap.

[General Tohmahawk]

Oh great, she did bring the wolf. Stig was right now having a snarling fit, getting more and agitated as he viewed the newcomers as being after his food. Not that Tohmahawk could blame him, mind. So, with the Force he slid the bowl to under his bed. Stig reacted by running after the bowk, skittering along until he was hidden under the hanging bed sheets. In a few seconds, the loud purring of a happy and eating cat sounded.

The reminder of the arrogant Admiral did elict a scowl from the General however.

"What do we do today? Well firstly you two can get to know each other. Secondly, you and Xazor can get our stores and equipment off my ship. We shouldn't need them on there. Third..."

<font color=blue>

Memories of yesterday came back to mind. The two travellers with Tohmahawk looking over his shoulder in gaping astonishment at the sheer size of Defender as the vastly smaller fighter/frieghter made final appraoch for Hangar A, the hangar the General usually used. And Tohamahwk was already in a foul mood with a clearence delay that verged on an insult. Ceetainly, he had not given his newly re-activated identity, but still.... Defender's crew in his time was fast and efficent, even to unwelcome visitors. The new Admiral that had taken charge from Drecker had earned a black mark.

And after landing, earned another one. While he had not explicitly stated his name, the code he used was top classification, which should have caused the Admiral to realise someone important was coming aboard - someone that outranked him. The fact a regular Captain was sent raised an eyebrow to the grizzled General. Luckily for the man coming to greet, it was someone familiar.

"General...?" asked the surprised Captain after Tohmahawk and his motley enterage walekd down Razor's ramp. "I... I mean we thought you were dead!"

"Yeah, well I got better - Who were you expecting, Mary Poppins? Now Captain Simtex, who's running this scrap heap and why the hell aint they here?"

"Admiral Bodyline Sir"

"Well? Get him here now"

The Captain looked worried, but seeing the famed temper of The General clearly written on his face, the Captain chose the lesser doom and saluted, off to get Bodyline. Tohmaahw paced by himself, stewing until the Captain returned, with a man in the grey of a NR Admiral - a surprisingly youngish man too.

"May I ask just who you think you are that you can call me away from running this ship?" Bodyline snapped, not saluting or trying other welcome. "And just what is this.... thing doing on my ship?" he asked, pointing at Haversh like he was a piece of crap. The captain winced, and Haversh obviously came agitated, Xazor snarled at the insult.

"Excuse me, but the Jedi Padawan is with myself and the good Jedi Kinght here" Tohmahawk indicated, somehow keeping his voice polite, although if the signs could be read, he was even more angry.

"A Jedi too? Doubly worthless. Now, get off my ship, I will not have Jedi or .... things messing my halls"

Xazor could have been expected to beat the Admiral into a bloody pulp with Sejah following up, - fact was Xazor restrained the Nehanite, and took a few steps backwards. "Sejah, don't whatever you do get in Jame's way...."

"I'm not intenting to get in his way!" snapped the Padawan. "I.... oh.... oh crap".

Well described, for the fury was now clear on the General's face - the captain, well knowing what was coming next also stepped away, fear clearly written on his face. But somehow, Tohmahawk kept his voice low and peaceful. "Now, now Admiral. I'm sure your words are not meant to insult. Would you reconsider?"

"This is MY ship and I will act as I wish!" snapped Bodyline.

"Your ship?" asked Tohmahawk, still unnaturally calm

"Yes, my ship. And a bloody disgrace it was when I took it over. What moron had command damn well desevered a walking out an airlock and I'm glad he died in that shitheap called Arcan"

Xazor grew wide eyed and both she and Sejah stepped back.

"Glad you say?" said Tohmahawk, the faintest hints of anger growing in his voice. "Glad are you? Badly run you state? Well let me tell you Bodyline, I'm not frelling impressed with you or your xenophobic attitude and I'm not impressed with your insuborinate attitude. Now...."

Here it came. The explosion of anger.

"IF YOU DARE SPEAK LIKE THAT ABOUT MYSELF AND MY COLLEGUES, I WILL STRING YOU BTY THE BALLS FROM THE ROOF! YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO UNIFORM! NOW GET OUT OF MY HANGAR AND CONSIDER YOURSELF STOOD DOWN!"

The Admiral barely flinched. "On whose orders?"

"Errr sir..." stammered the captain. "This is General Tohamahwk"

"Ask me if I care..." began Bodyline, before Tohmahawk leapt, picked the Admiral up by the throat, then slammed the witless man into a wall. Hard.

"You will learn how to care, because I do not tolerate insubordination, or <smallfont color=#FF0000>-Censored-</smallfont>s, or xenophobes. The name is Major General Tohmahawk and as of now, by order of Solo herself, this is once again MY ship and if you dont like, walk out the airlock. Now get out of my hangar. I will speak to MY staff tomorrow. That may or may not include you if you so much as burp wrong in the intervening time. Am I clear Admiral?"

Bodyline was full of fight himself, but he could recognise he wasn't goign to win this argument, not against an inhumanly strong and legendary General. His eyes blazing, he gave a nod, face growing red from the grip on his neck. Tohmahawk kept the Admiral in the air for a few more seconds, before throwing the officer across the deck, Bodyline sliding on his butt to stop a few meters away.

"Right. Xazor, you know where my room is, meeet me for breakfast tomorrow. Sejah, you too. For now you can sleep onbard until I arrange for better accomodation. The General stalked off angrily</font>

".... after breakfast, we go and sort this upstart <smallfont color=#FF0000>-Censored-</smallfont><smallfont color=#FF0000>-Censored-</smallfont><smallfont color=#FF0000>-Censored-</smallfont> of an Admiral out. I'm tempted to bust him to latrine clean duty"

[Sejah Haversh]

"Don't." Sejah almost immediately said, his face resolute. "Let him keep his post, and don't be too harsh on him. But, make sure he feels nervous, like you were going to do somethign to him at any given time. After all, chores last only so long, but constant fear is a much mor suitable punishment for him, I think."

He nearly quoted a historical figure of his race. The Admiral had been a prick, that was for sure, but to overthreaten would only make him worse.

"If he were one of my students, I would call him up for each demonstration. Put on the pressure, you know, make him really sweat. Not only will he lose face in front of his men, but he just might learn something as well. Revenge is often sweetest when played as a seven course meal instead of a quick snack, as my Master once said." He grinned at the memory of his old fencing master, then set into his breakfast, which had arrived while he was talking.

[Xazor Elessar]

Xazor smiled at Marcus's words and she smiled, baring her elongated canines. The Garou seemed ready for a fight, though she was still aware of her pregnant state. Shaking her head, she silently agreed with Sejah but decided to voice her most honest opinion.

"...Let me have him Marcus...no one insults me or my comrades and lives to tell of it. Honestly, he just boils my blood. Sure, making him suffer like the worm he is would be nice, but I'm not one for patience."

She laughed slightly to herself and ran a finger over her dagger sharp canines, slightly drawing blood upon her fingertip. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the small wound healed right before her eyes. Her Garou healing abilties were good on small things like that, but of course, larger wounds took more time...a lot more time. Her eyes went to the floor in a bit of shame that such evil thoughts enveloped her mind, but she was honest. The man was an <smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont><smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont><smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont> and she would remove his head and shove it firmly up there where it belonged.

As her thoughts raged on, a whimper sounded from across the room and the Knight's eyes were drawn to her companion. Sighing, she motioned for him to come to her and he did so, sitting down by her side and rubbing his nose against her hand.

Good boy, Kau...looks like we're going to have some fun today!

She spoke in the deaf wolves mind. He was Force sensitive, little did many others know, and that is what made him special. The Knight smiled to herself and patted his head at his silent reply: the mere sparkle in his deep silver-blue eyes. Her eyes then went to Sejah and came to rest upon his face.

"No matter what goes down with the Admiral, I would like to get to know you more, Sejah. I've heard many a story of you. Sounds to me like you're a fine Padawan. I'm proud to have the opportunity to be on this excursion with one such as yourself."

Bowing her head in respect, she smiled once again and then turned to face Marcus as she had been originally. Perhaps this day would bring more than any of them expected...but nonetheless, she would follow his lead even though her own desires far out-weighed rational thought.

"...Perhaps you should restrain me though...I'm in that kind of mood and I'm afraid that I'll go...well, wolf on him."

She flashed a coy smile with mischief in her eyes. Of course this was of her nature, but she was a Jedi...a Lost Jedi, nonetheless, and she knew that others expected more of her. But this time, he had just done it. He had completely insulted her closest friend and a comrade of hers...not to mention her complete Order: the Jedi. Sighing, her eyes went to the floor once again as the anger circled around her mind. I will remain calm....for now. she thought to herself, and made the resolve that she would until action called.

[Pierce Tondry]

Pierce Tondry closed his eyes, shook his head, and sighed lightly. "A Senator's apartment blown apart and a Jedi Knight puking in the bathroom next door. You'd think this was a bad holonovel."

The Jack-of-all-trades Intelligence officer produced a commlink and tossed it to Helenias. "Go ahead," he said. "Tell the good security officers you're still alive and they need to get a detachment over here. I'd do it myself, but my commission's still inactive. Damn paperwork."

Helenias caught the device, but paused with it up to her mouth. "You still could have done it," she said with a slight smile. "They'd take orders from you anyway, commission or no."

"Pfft," was Pierce's reply. Helenias clicked the commlink on. "This is the Senator from Arcan IV, we need a security detachment at this location now or you're frelling fired."

"Happy?" she asked Pierce, who was kneeling over one of the bodies. She tossed him the commlink.

Without looking behind him, Pierce caught it. "Much," he said. "I'll be even happier when I know who hired these goons."

He finished examining the body and started looking over the other assailant. "These guys were not professionals," he said. "Heavy weapons aside, the equipment's not well kept, and these outfits are too scruffy. I'm thinking subcontractors part of a larger scheme, possibly just low-level flunkies but probably street thugs looking for a quick buck."

Pierce stopped and thought over what he'd said. There'd been no mysterious twinges, no sudden unconnected revelations, and it was all sound logic. That meant it was probably the exact truth. Sucking air inbetween his teeth, Pierce stood up-

- only to see Helenias staring at him in the oddest way. "There's no one behind me with a gun, is there?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head.

"Because if someone had actually snuck up on me, I'd have shot myself," Pierce continued. "So what's up?"

"You- how'd you catch that without looking? Last time we met-"

"I couldn't sense a planet under my own feet?" Pierce finished, mentally cursing. He hadn't even realized he'd caught her intent. "Yeah. About that. I'll have to tell you the story some time."

It was a lame deflection and Helenias would know. But she'd just been the target of an assassination attempt, and that had priority over a long and involved story involving the past five months and an entire life-changing pilgrimige.

And now, it seemed that he was getting thrown back into the saddle. "Looks like we're even," he added, nodding his head at the two bodies behind them. "I'm betting there'll be opportunities for that to change soon enough. Any ideas on who's behind this?"

[Darth Turbogeek]

He watched as the ship blasted out of the chaos of the space port.. and then the recording ended. The young man, sunglasses obsuring his eyes at looked at the now blank space over the holoprojector.

"You failed" he said, calmly

"Yeah but.." began one of the men around his table.

"But what?" replied Glasses coldly. "Your not paid for buts. Your paid to do and no excuses. Am I right?"

Two men were obviously the centre of Glasses attention and others in the room edged away. "But..." started the other man, before with brutal suddeness his head exploded into grey goop, Glasses havign quick drawn a gun and blown the merc's head off.

"Now, let's hear the right answer" Glasses stated, pointing the gun at the now mortified remaining merc. "Or you too will do a Pro Hart. Why did the bitch get away?"

"She had help and was ready for us" gulped the merc.

"Did she now. Like to describe whom it was?"

"Ummm, two men. Looks sponteneous, but they boarded her ship with the girl and took off with her. I can only say they ran interference"

Glasses thought about this. "Fine, that is acceptible. But who's idea was the distruptor?"

"Mine si..." The rest of the sentance hardly got out of the merc's mouth when Darth Turbogeek opened fire again, this time emptying the clip into the hapless merc. "Listen to me" he said to the rest of the cringing beings in the room, as he reloaded. "If I wanted the bitch and the girl dead, I would have said so. Alive! Is that too much to frellking ask for you droobs? Now get the hell out of my sight! Go on, get out! Find where they went and get that girl! I want them both alive!"

Turbogeek waited until they all elft, before going around his desk, and takign a seat in the reclining nerf-hide chair. Anger was clearly on his face as the leaned back, working out where the woman and the girl were going. So much he wanted his rightful duaghter back.

And the woman?

She would learn it was not wise to spun him.

[imported_Terran Starek]

Terran--

Meet me at Kar's Last Corral on Arcan IV. I have some things to discuss with you. The coordinates of the rendevouz and the time of meeting are included here.

Marcus Q'Dunn

Terran thumbed the datapad absent-mindedly in his hand as the starfighter cruised gently through space. His face was contorted into a thoughtful wrinkle. It was just like Master Q'Dunn to give him some kind of message like this. No details, no real sustinence, no clue as to what in the Force he would need to prepare himself for. He had directions and a simple sentence, just as Marcus would give him were he in is presence. It was hard sometimes to get a straight answer from the Jedi Master. Perhaps that's why Terran found him so interesting.

As he neared the Arcan system in in GJO B-Wing, he found himself ready to be off of this starship. He was practiced in the arts of space navigation and dogfiting and starship travel--though not mastering this catergory of skills by any means. However, he still wasn't a fan of space travel. It was necessary, but he preferred the open air and some nice scenery. Not stars and darkness.

He had never been to Arcan IV before, suprisingly. He had been to many a local, but never this. He had heard some tales of it, however. A smuggler's realm, he had heard. A rough place--one you don't think about raising a peaceful family in. He could be wrong--afterall, rumors and heresay were just that.

The coordinates having been set, he found his way to the nearest public spaceport to the meeting place--a port called Ja'ween or something. He couldn't remember. Too many spaceports had come to his knowledge to remember them all. It seemed rather clean, suprisingly, as he landed his ship in one of the many docking bays.

Checking it in, paying for upgraded security, he checked his Coordinates again, finding the spot where he was to meet Master Q'Dunn. It was quite a ways from here, and the meeting time was approaching soon. Nonetheless, he would have enough time to get there. Getting to the edge of the spaceport's docking bays, he called a hovercab to be on his way.

"Good afternoon," he told the pilot droid with a smile. "Could you please take me to..." he checked his datapad "Kar's Last Corral?"

"Of couise, Mista." The droid spoke in a strange, urban dialect. It added spice to his otherwise robotic voice. "It'll come ta a little ouiver 36 creds, Mista." Of course the droid knew the exact amount, but his programming made him a bit more friendly. It was nice.

"That'll be fine, thank you." Terran was in a good mood. A new place, another experience to chalk up to his travels, and what almost felt like a 'mission' for Master Q'Dunn. It felt good to be trusted. Months ago, Marcus would have made him have some type of escort, he was sure. Now, the Jedi Master trusted him enough to give him a little more freedom in his travel. Terran smiled--it felt deserved, and yet at the same time he was glad to be maturing in Marcus' eyes. It made him feel special--the way a son beams with pride when a father says "Good work, my boy."

Relaxing, and letting his mind be clear, he sat back in the taxi, enjoying the ride through the hustled and bustled streets.

[Radish Xavier]

"So, we're headed to Carshoulis. Not my choice of vacation spots, to be sure. Might as well make the best of it, though."

The large man slumped into a chair, and Radish crept into the cockpit behind him, eyes wide. She'd watched him for an entire half an hour, and was competely fascinated by him. As a rule, she didn't trust him. Rima had pounded that into her head, as had her father. But...Diego? She thought that was what Rima had called him. His cuts had healed up before her eyes.

She slipped up past his chair, ignored the blonde man, and crawled into Rima's lap. Rima absently helped her up with one hand, the other hand running over the console as she ran systems checks. Radish put her small arms around the black haired woman, and laid her head on her shoulder, listening for her heart. It was strong and steady. Nothing seemed to overly excite her. It was comforting to know Rima would always be....Rima. In some capacity, at least.

Rima held the back of Radish's head with one hand, and set the droid brain of the Habitually Late to run a hull sensor sweep with the other hand.

[Rima Xavier]

Red crawled into her lap, and Rima absently stroked her hair as Diego made himself comfortable in the third seat in the cockpit. It was getting a bit cramped for space. "Glad to see you survived, but I should have known. After our last...or should I say, our first encounter." She couldn't figure out how to get him to not reveal certain things about her, but before she could, the console beeped, and a red light started flashing.

Radish flinched as Rima's heartrate went up, and clutched at her adopted mother. "Frelling Sithspawn!" She sat up straight, her face a mask of pain as her movements aggravated her headache. Sanis leaned back into his chair, away from her, his eyes following hers to the source of her alarm.

Diego opened an eye, and leaned forward with idle curiosity. Rima cursed soundly, seemingly not caring about the ears of the five year old girl who was latched onto her, and got to her feet, one hand still holding onto Radish. Or Carrot. Or Red.

The little girl held on tightly, legs wrapped around Rima's waist, her light body hardly a burden for the woman to carry as she moved to Diego's seat. "Out." He looked at her, and moved, although a bit slowly. They'd managed to pick up an anomalous reading on the hull..which meant one of two things: There was a mynock attached to them (which in hyperspace was impossible) or that there was a device of some sort attached.

Rima prayed it wasn't a bomb. It didn't appear to be draining power to fuel an explosion, however. She pointed at Sanis without looking at him. "Get in the cargo bay and use the intercomm to tell me if you can see anything on the walls." He stared at her as if she'd lost her mind, and she shouted "Just go, for krassts sake!" Her fingers moved nimbly over the console as she set the ship to destroy the device on the hull. It would take a few minutes.

[Diego Van Derveld]

As Diego exited the cockpit, he canted a sidelong glance at Rima.

"It seems trouble follows your every turn, Arya...and has a habit of taking me along for the ride."

[Sanis Prent]

(I brushed past the big guy as he got into a conversation with the ship's pilot.

Arya?

I paused. Wasn't her name Rima? Ah, who the hell cared. Probably an alias, as both looked like the shady type. I shrugged it off, and ducked into a cramped compartment, sliding down a ladder that led to the cargo bay.)

Alright, I'm down here...what exactly am I looking for?

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya shot Diego an exasperated look as Sanis left the cockpit, and motioned him back inside with a jerk of her head. Red still clutched at her, and she didn't bother trying to remove her. "I need to talk to you, Diego." The big man squeezed past to the copilot seat, and she made a face as the droid brain reported back to her. "Dammit, a homing beacon."

She pounded her fist on the console, and Red withdrew from her, hopping down and running to her small cabin. She didn't like it when Arya was angry. Ravenwing turned to Diego and pointed a finger at him. "I'm Rima, she is my daughter, and we're being hunted by the 'very bad men' that my mother tried to warn me about." Arya looked back at the console and cursed again.

"Alright, I'm down here...what exactly am I looking for?" Prent's voice came over the intercomm. To be honest, she had just wanted to get him out of the cockpit, but now she would have to make something up.

"Ok, Mr. Prent, I was afraid there was a small explosive on the hull of my ship. In which case, we'd have to try to get it unattatched from the inside. Its on the port bulkhead, but it isn't a sleeper bomb, its a homing beacon." She flipped the comm off, and cursed some more. "Frelling bones of Vader, we can't drop out of hyperspace to take it off. Why didn't I get the electric grid installed!?"

She knew why, it was too damn frelling expensive. Arya's mind raced. Maybe if I get a really big magnet...or could re-polarize the hull... It would take a lot of time, but she might be able to encourage the beacon to leave them alone. Arya focused in on her console, and forgot about her conversation with Diego.

[Threepio]

Thank the Maker! I'm saved! A droid skittered towards the man who had entered the hold of the ship, its optical receptors glowing oddly from the dark corner it had apparently been hiding in. Mistress Arya sent me down here two weeks ago, apparently she has forgotten about me. The droid was dirty, but his metallic 'skin' had a distinct golden sheen to it. To Prent it was obvious that the droid wouldn't be able to climb up the ladder without a great deal of help. Getting down, however...perhaps just a shove through the door?

As Sanis looked closer, he saw that it was a protocol droid. Its personality matrix was making it appear agitated. I am C-3PO, human cyborg relations. I am fluent in over six million forms of communication, as well as the ettiquite rules for over two thousand star systems. I am pleased to be at your service, Master...?

[Diego Van Derveld]

Diego patiently lounged in the copilot's seat. It was less an appearance of laziness, and more a sense of latent, potential energy. Even his calm could cause discomfort.

"Whenever you're not busy, Arya."

He watched the cascade of light as the ship continued through hyperspace.