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Thread: BEN MERASSKA AND THE QUEST FOR THE... THING

  1. #1
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    Closed BEN MERASSKA AND THE QUEST FOR THE... THING

    ALLIANCE CONTROLLED MANAAN, 11 ABY


    Manaan was hot. Humid air drifted in on a balmy breeze, and the sun glared down almost like it knew that he had long acclimated to the chilled and recycled air of ship filters.

    Ben Merasska couldn't help but shift a bit as the Alliance man looked over the last of the crates being loaded onto the hoverskids. It had been almost a blue milk run, but as a freighter man, he was only too familiar with clients altering the deal at the last second. The Alliance was better about it than most, but that didn't mean it didn't happen with them too.

    To keep himself from moving around too much, he focused mainly on the Alliance man's meticulously trimmed mutton chops and mustache.

    'Those can't be regulation,' Ben thought to himself, looking away quickly when the Alliance man looked up at him.

    "Right, so everything's here," the Alliance man said.

    "That's, uh, good," Ben responded. The Alliance man smiled and laughed as if Ben had said a joke. Ben laughed nervously back.

    "Sorry for the intense inspection, but it's regulations here. The Empire didn't leave Manaan without a few surprises for us and we have to be sure they won't try anything else. Your cargo will go a long way to getting production back up and running!"

    Ben plastered a smile on his face as the Alliance man gestured to one of the soldiers posted to the side of the landing pad. The soldier stepped forward and opened the small box in his hand, and Ben's smile became much more genuine in the shine of silver, gold, and platinum credits. It was all that had been promised and then some. The soldier closed the box and Ben took it with studied nonchalance.

    "Well, it was a pleasure doin' business with ya," he said, shaking the Alliance man's hand. The soldier nodded and stepped back. "Speakin' of business, what're the odds of some folks wantin' off this little slice of paradise?"

    The Alliance man stopped and thought for a moment.

    "Well, no offense, as your ship's no junker, but most of the people here are used to a little more refinement in their transports," he started. "There's some demand for transports for the Selkies here, but that's mostly for on-planet destinations. Tourism's taken a hit; it's on the rise again, but still much slower than it should be. I can put a word out for interested parties for you on the job board at the Port Authority. Just need your name, and your ship's name and class."

    "Ben Merasska, ship's a Ghtroc-720. Named her Alderaan."

    The Alliance man stopped and looked at him a little more closely before nodding again and writing down the information.

    "Got it. Hopefully you'll get some paying fares before long. And, I know it's been over a decade, but my wife's from Alderaan. I know she gets a little jolt of happiness knowing there's others still making their way out there."

    Ben smiled, though it felt a little more like a grimace.

    "As you said," he sighed. "It's been over ten years."

    The Alliance man smiled and nodded once more.

    "You're clear. Enjoy Manaan City while you're here."

    They left, and Ben stood alone on the landing pad, letting the weight of the credit box keep him from dwelling on the amount of time since he'd seen a sunrise from his family's front porch.

    After ten years, it did hurt less. Didn't make the ache any easier to bear, though.

    He shook his head, and turned back to the ship.

    "Hey, Cerie, Shuvin! We got paid, so grab your shares and go have some fun!"

    The answering shouts from inside did in fact lessen that ache the tiniest bit, though he wasn't consciously aware of it.
    Last edited by Ben Merasska; Jan 30th, 2021 at 11:45:46 AM.

  2. #2
    TheHolo.Net Poster Lana Wake's Avatar
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    Shimmering lines patterned upon the horizon. Gentle winds scooped up sand, wavering it through the air barely off the ground before sprinkling it daintedly back on the beach. Pyrshak is a generous star. Where one world may complain for too much heat, the waters of Manaan appreciate the sun's warmth. As too, loudly declared, do tourists from all over the Galaxy.

    Artificial. The sand was too soft, too kind to the feet. Where no land would naturally be, where no beach could be found, people made their own to create a holiday in paradise. Without a moon, Manaan's waters ushered no strong tides to combat the unnatural structures, no powerful waves to wash away the sand palaces the children built. That was for the bullies and the clean-up droids. It was a shame, given the artistic design of some of these tiny structures.


    This place was... nice.


    One could almost forget reality here. The toils of life, the burden of responsibility-- even for a short while whilst the credits spent themselves. All corners of the Galaxy, though mostly from both sides of the borders. Citizens were citizens. Neutral space was not a political nor military battleground for them. Most here were simply enjoying themselves, content with the small break from work. The promise of a break away, the spontaneous decision of a couple or heeding the demands of rich children wanting to bask in solar radiation not of their own star...

    ...And she could feel it. All of it. Their happiness. Their innocence. Guilt. Regrets. Arrogance. All of it flowed through the Force, a web of vibrating, reverberating emotional strains, pulling, tugging. Echoing cries of laughter, yells of frustration and shouts of anger. Sways of the dancing, spinning children. Splashes of the water from the flirtatious husband to the disinterested wife. Heated breath raising from the hateful customer to the machine of servitude. Basking in it all, everything felt so... wonderful. Was there ever a war? Worlds beyond this ocean?


    Lana opened her eyes.


    Bright blue spheres gazed out at the sea, a small smile on her lips. Laying on a sun lounger in her red shoulderless dress, she did not particularly stand out in this environment-- despite being overly dressed for a beach visit. There was an attempt to fit in! Lana did take her boots off. It was difficult to relax, however. Not because of the sun lounger, however. This chair was perhaps the most comfortable piece of outdoor furniture the blonde had ever lain on. The synthetic fabric somehow comforted the body in ways she did not even consider possible.

    It was simply strenuous trying to calm oneself unnaturally. Nobody could ever be at peace in such a public place, not when the infants were so loud. It was an act that normal people understood how to partake in, enjoying the celebration of relaxation as some sort of conjoined event in a singular location. Fascinating as it was, it was impossible for Lana to partake, though try as she may.


    The boots were put back on.


    In reality, what truly put Lana out of place here was the realization she was alone. Noisey children heralded the presence of families. Whilst contained, quiet laughter warranted the presence of friends. Without either present, the solitary traveller knew where she could find more of her kind. Standing from the sun lounger*, Lana made her way up the beach and towards the curvy, metallic structure at the end of the sand. It was as glamorous as it was giant. The behemoth of a structure was the entire resort: complete with hotels, shops, changing rooms, spas, saunas, restaurants, landing pads, cargo port and super secret borderline criminal pet breeding showroom. Everything a rich family from pretty much anywhere in the Galaxy would want, need or desire, all suspended from anti-gravity thrusters which are eco-friendly.


    Lana wanted none of those things, however. The unspoken addition, disputed by landowners on who actually owns the place, was a bar. This was her destination.


    The Fuddled Firaxan is a place where the crew of the expensive transports the elite use gather. Usually, they enjoy telling stories to one another during their paid stay. It was an unspoken gift that comes with the job description of being a glorified pilot when your occupation could be easily replaced by a droid. For such customers, the bar itself was quite well-maintained and had quite a tidy stock of alcohol beverages. Being the neutral space between both Empire and Free Systems, this resort enjoyed the best of both spaces in that regard. It may have been a bit 'pricey' for cargo crews, but if you were being hired to deliver to this resort in particular, you were probably being paid enough to enjoy a drink or two at the Fuddled Firaxan. Probably.


    *which would be immediately taken after she leaves due to the comforting properties of the synthetic fabric. Seriously, you should get one of these.

  3. #3
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    "So Ben, where are you going?" Shuvin asked as they stepped off the landing pad and into Manaan proper. "Obviously not to the beach. Ben, we're here to have fun. Fun. F. U. N. Lean back, relax, enjoy yourself!"

    She spun around, enjoying the feel of the warm air through her cover up tunic.

    "I guess I'm gettin' old, huh? I might look at the beach later. I hear even the bars and cantinas are open air here, 'less it's storming, I suppose. Got some errands to run in town, and there's gotta be a little shop or something somewhere I can find some new wiring junctions. It'll be a vacation for me. You just go and drool over boys."

    Shuvin shook her head and looked at her captain sadly.

    "You poor, poor man," she said. "I only hope it's not too late to save you from Old-No-Fun-itis. You're too young to go like this! But since you offered, I will go and drool over boys."

    She brightened at the thought, and turned to look at Cerie.

    "What about you, Cerie? Coming with me to the beach?"

  4. #4
    One boot on, half-laced. The other was being pulled over her foot as she managed the ungraceful ballet of hopping through the doorway of her small quarters into the corridor. Shuvin's question was met with an enthusiastic nod and a stomp as the boot slipped all the way on. Reaching back into her quarters, Cerie grabbed a brightly colored overshirt. Light and with a myriad of tropical birds patterned across it, she gave one last look-over to make sure that she was remembering everything.

    An unmade bed, the latest issue of Heavy Bionics on the pillow (she was halfway through the first short story, Imperial Circuits). A small closet half-open with a modest selection of well-worn clothes inside.

    Everything was where it was supposed to be, and she turned back to Shuvin.

    "That's where the fancy umbrella drinks are," kneeling, she finished lacing up her boots, a grin turning up the corners of her lips, "... and I could really use something that's not from a can."

  5. #5
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    "Woo!"

    Shuvin spun around again.

    "Before you all head out," Ben started, causing the teenage togruta to stop and glare at him. Unfortunately, rather than distressed he seemed more amused. "I thought you'd like to collect your shares."

    The Alderaani pilot pulled two smallish boxes from a pocket on the leg of his trousers. Shuvin dashed forward and grabbed it, and zipped off back to her cabin to grab her own bag of necessities.

    "Make sure to count it, I could have cheated you, you know," Ben said. Shuvin simply stared at him and closed her bag without checking the box, looking unamused. "What? I could have."

    "Sure, Ben," Shuvin said airily. "Well, we all situmacated? Great, let's go let's go let's goooooooooo!"

    The girl settled herself behind Ben and pushed him down the road, and sent a threatening look to Cerie, who seemed to be enjoying the show but didn't need to a shove to get moving.

    "Ah, it's been so long since we've had a break like this!" Shuvin stretched in the sunlight and reveled in its warmth. "Feels like its been years!"

    It seemed like they'd found the perfect landing pad, as it took far shorter than she expected to reach the white sands of one of Manaan City's artificial beaches. It wasn't nearly as crowded with cute rich boys as she had hoped, but she refused to let that bring her down.

    "All right, I'm heading out. The only thing I want you all to do is have fun, all right?" Ben said. "In case you need me, there's some bar near here that should orient you, and I'll stop off there first to get directions. Called the Fuddly Fixer, or something like that."

    "Aye aye, Cap'n!" Shuvin said brightly, her hand flashing up to her head in sloppy salute, before dashing off onto the warm sands and claiming an empty lounge chair. She retained the presence of mind to wave cheerily at the man as he turned away.

    "So, Cerie, you were talkin' about umbrella drinks, right?"

  6. #6
    TheHolo.Net Poster Lana Wake's Avatar
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    Heavy metal sliding doors flew open, allowing a small gust of wind to breeze against the red dress, waving back slightly revealing only the leathery boots beneath. Outside the bar, the neon sign for the Fuddled Firaxan buzzed with an unsafe sound of electricity. Doors were usually closed to stop the wrong crowd accidently finding their way into the dregs. Those seeking a bar normally had a sixth sense for alcohol searching. By no means was the Fuddled Firaxan a rough speakeasy, reusing the expensive furniture the resort would usually recycle. It even had a nice smell to it. The air had a pleasant smell thanks to automatic air fresheners to overpower the stink of alcohol and sweat.

    The blonde strided towards the bar and sat down, placing her hands against the metal surface. Nobody paid her any mind. Behind the counter, the walls were lined with neatly placed decorative bottles, some of which filled with expensive multi-coloured liquids that were too pricey for the usual customer. A mirror reflected back Lana's bright blue eyes as she stared briefly at herself. There was something... comforting about having a normal appearance. No uniform, no corruption, nothing to stand out. These thoughts were quickly hushed away as a large Mon Calamari blocked the mirror reflection. His skin a rugged orange, giant goggle eyes looking down at Lana alongside a friendly, giant smile.

    "What can I get'cha?" he asked cheerfully.

    "Corellian Wine, please" the calm, soft voice requested whilst returning the happy smile to the bartender.

    "Ya want me 'ta heat that up for ya, lady?"

    "No~ No thank you." Without hesitation, she would begin to take out several credits from her satchel, placing them quietly on the counter. The metal squares with the empire symbol on it caused the Mon Calamari to lower his eyelids slightly. Regardless of his own opinion, he took the credits. Neutral space and currency was always a gamble. A corner bar in a resort like this could not be picky about the type of credits, be them Empire or other.

    Even the glasses within this bar were fancy. Long stalks of thick see-through glass with a perfect bowl for the liquids on the top. Too many wine glasses may have been delivered once, thus donated to the unspoken pub. Some may have been broken and repaired, though the laser-lines was unsightly for the rich. Lana lifted the glass and sipped the cloudy white liquid, sighing happily at the taste. Before a conversation could be struck, the Calamari moved away to serve another customer. Alone, the blonde was content. She took out a datapad from her satchel and began studying something.

  7. #7
    "And a bunch of fruit," the blonde smiled as she rolled her shoulders, head on the swivel. There were plenty of people on the beach, some lounging, others playing in the surf, and still more milling about around the frond-roofed beverage stands.

    Looking back down to Shuvin, Cerie gave a nod of her head to the nearest stand.

    "You want anything?"

  8. #8
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    "Welcome there!" a dark colored Mon Calamari called from the bar as he entered. "What can I getcha?"

    "Directions, hopefully, but for now an Eriadu Tea, no straw, heavy, and chilled," Ben answered, sitting at the bar itself and leaning forward. "Gonna treat myself after a good run."

    "Ah, did a run for the kolto refinery?" the barkeep asked, pulling out a tall glass and various bottles. Small ice cubes were tossed in first, followed by shots from the bottles.

    "Yeah, just got put up on the boards, though I don't expect to pick up any real work. Light freighter, Alderaan. But the real money was in some materials for the collection plant. Heard that was pretty much completely demolished."

    "I saw that one. Not a name you see every day," the keep said, keeping his tone light, before returning to the subject. "It sure was demolished. Completely, in fact. Unsalvageable. For an act of sabotage though, we didn't lose hardly anyone out there, and most of the equipment was old and in need of repair anyhow. From a certain point of view, those Imps did the Alliance a favor. Sure, they don't have anything coming out of here for at least another year or two, but the operation'll probably make up for that in the first six months with all the new construction and upgrades to the infrastructure."

    Ben raised his brows. "No kiddin'? Too much to think that they did it on purpose."

    The Mon Calamari laughed. "Nah, they probably figured the war would kick back up before any real production could begin."

    "Now that sounds like the Empire," Ben said, accepting the finished drink and toasting the barkeep. He slid a few chips the keep's way.

    "Appreciated! Now, you were asking about directions?"

    "Gotta spend it while I got it," Ben said cheerily. "Lookin' for some place I can get couplers, fittings, other assorted stuff. Too much to hope for a junkyard round here?"

    "Bit too high end for a junkyard!" the Mon Calamari laughed. "You'll probably have to go through the Alliance station for anything like that, and they're being pretty tight what with rebuilding the refinery and collection plant."

    "Now that I have the money, I can't spend it? Figures," Ben groused good naturedly. The barkeep chuckled and moved on.

  9. #9
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    "I want a studly rich Core Worlder to come by so I can literally sweep him off his feet," Shuvin said matter-of-factly, though she didn't seem to be looking very hard for one. "But if I can't have that, I'll settle for one o' your old books and somethin' fruity and alcoholic I can sip on for a while."

  10. #10
    TheHolo.Net Poster Lana Wake's Avatar
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    Sipping her wine, the word 'Alderaan' caught the blonde's attention. Holding the wine glass against her lips momentarily, bright blue eyes peered down the bar at the orange-haired pilot. Whilst listening to their idle chatter, she glanced back down at the datapad. Appearing on the screen in green Galactic Basic was the same ship seeking work with the Port Authority. Ghtroc-720: the Alderaan. A small smile grew on her lips. The drink was placed back down and the datapad put away, hopefully before the man noticed.

    There was something extraordinary to Lana about life aboard a ship. To go where you want, take what job takes one's fancy. Credits kept you alive in space. Work would never stop. Yet there was an odd freedom to the concept, a freedom that- until fairly recently- Lana lacked. Working for credits was as much an alien concept to her as retirement. The thought of an alternative life excited her mind briefly, childishly, before she calmed herself with a disciplined sigh.


    Once the Mon Calamari had moved on to serve somebody else down the bar, Lana spun her body towards Ben. Boots firmly planted to the bottom bar of the stool, arm against the bar, she offered a soft smile to Ben. "Across a system, Cona will have all the spare parts your heart desires" she offered calmly and cheerfully. "Plenty of mining operations. Where industry can be found, as too can an abundance of ships~" When the blonde spoke, her accent was extremely familiar and clear. She was of Imperial origin, core worlds: no doubt about it.

    "Are you seeking employment? I require transport of a discrete nature with return to civilized space. Your name and ship are on the job board~ well respected as a captain whom does not take advantage of clients."


    Her cloudy white wine was almost empty. Lana's eyes seemed to be similar to Ben's own, a light shade of blue with an inquisitive stare. There was seemingly nothing threatening about the woman, as she did not carry a weapon. The only thing on her person, aside from her red shoulderless dress and leather boots, was her satchel. Her attire somewhat suited the holiday resort, though did not match the outfit one expects of somebody wishing to go across space hidden in a freighter vessel. It did not take a sage to know something was off about this odd request. Something was unique about this job, which depending on the captain, was either a very good thing or a terribly bad thing.
    Last edited by Lana Wake; Feb 1st, 2021 at 07:15:52 PM.

  11. #11
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    Ben was mid-swig when the blonde turned and spoke to him. Naturally, he panicked.

    "Ghurlk!" Ben said. Approximately, as it's difficult to transpose that sort of thing into writing. He nearly dropped the glass, and spilled a fair bit onto the bar top. The Mon Calamari stopped by to clean up the mess, exuding far too much amusement for Ben's sensibilities. The blonde looked like she had a better sabacc face, but there was a definite quirk to her mouth that tinged Ben's people-are-laughing-at-me sense.

    "Right, now that this first impression is ruined, let's just move along," he sighed, giving the woman a once over.

    "Ben Merasska, captain of Alderaan. No 'the' in front. Just Alderaan," he introduced himself, keeping any tells as to his judgement hidden for the moment. "And when people ask for 'discrete transport', I start thinking of a whole manner of nasty things, especially when it's 'discrete transport' off what's essentially a resort world. So I'm going to need you to define 'discrete' for me so I have a better idea of what I might be getting into."

    He glanced at his drink and grimaced at how much was left before downing the last of it in final gulp.

  12. #12
    TheHolo.Net Poster Lana Wake's Avatar
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    Oddly, the woman seemed to lose her calm smile as he began to panic. Her expression was replaced with one of mild worry, eyes widening in a perturbed manner. If this was her Sabacc face, she played it well to the point where she might trick herself. She did not mean to concern him-- that was the opposite of her intention!

    Thankfully, he made a joke out of it, which caused the blonde to giggle quietly to herself. First impressions were indeed somewhat ruined. To better her own, she quietly placed several more imperial credits down upon the counter, tapping them for the bartender to see with his giant, happy eyes. "Top up for us both, please."

    "My name is Lana. Lana Wake~"

    "I require transport to the Mid-Rim planet of Chalacta, on the border of Hutt Space. On the planet is a destroyed colony of monks-- Jedi sympathizers the Empire wiped out during the Jedi Uprising back eighteen Bee-Bee-Why. I, a student at the University of Coruscant, must find an artifact that is theorized to be within a tomb located not far from this colony. Technically, this is illegal-- both in Alliance and Empire laws... thus the discreet request. Forgive me for ... sounding sinister~"

    The blonde smiled warmly towards Ben. "My entire grant will pay for your fare. Does... one-hundred and fifty thousand credits sound fair? I... fear you may ask for more, thus I have some more saved up."

    He did raise a wonderful point about the resort world. Quite the acute pilot. Earning slightly more respect for the observation, she thought it right to add: "I came here as I knew no criminal kidnapper would lure me into their ship for ransom here. Mmm... I could have lied~ said I was a cheating wife and needed to evade his wrath right away, but... I fear my request is far more exciting, do you not think?~"

    The Mon Calamari refilled their drinks at quite an impressive pace. He seemed to be lingering, enjoying eavesdropping this potential deal. There was little excitement to be had in his little establishment. Once you heard one rich chofer tale, you have heard them all. This was new, exciting and something he has only seen on the holodramas! A real under-the-table arrangement, going on in his very bar on Manaan! Exciting!
    Last edited by Lana Wake; Feb 2nd, 2021 at 03:30:21 AM.

  13. #13
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    "One... one... one hundred... and...?" Ben choked on air and spasmed again as she threw out a number that he wouldn't have expected in thousand years. "Make mine a shot of engine cleaner."

    He downed the drink and grimaced at the taste, but relished the burn as it went down. He gestured for another.

    "Sister, you could almost buy a fleet of your own ships with that."
    Last edited by Ben Merasska; Feb 3rd, 2021 at 01:26:37 AM.

  14. #14
    * * *

    One hand held a particularly fruity concoction of a vibrant, electric green color. A mess of namana slices took up half the rim, as well as a straw and a pair of decorative sticks; one with a Death Star and the other with an X-wing. A Death Star Superlaser, as it had been called on the menu. Her other hand held a much more modest Old Rebellion, and she couldn't help but take a test sip. Not to shabby of a drink, she had to admit.

    Navigating the pockets of crowds, Cerie wove around the bodies with ease. Most were laughing, enjoying the beach and every bit of ambience that came along with such destinations. It was about like any normal touristy locale. Which also meant that it wasn't anything like crazy slinky stinkbeasts, zombie children, or a bag full of empty Space Scout cookies. And that was a very. Good. Thing.

    "Hey! It's you!"

    The startled voice pulled her from her thoughts as she passed by a Selkath who looked rather startled.

    "Huh?"

    The look of surprise was shockingly evident, given the aquatic race's 'feature's'.

    "Yeah! You! I remember you!"

    And then a memory. A holoreel that she'd seen in passing. She'd not really given much thought, until now of course. Not for the first time in too short a while, she was finding that looking like a certain Alliance Captain was becoming... decidedly not good.

    On reflex, the blonde put on her best disarming smile.

    "I get that a lot," she tried to reassure, and lifting her Old Rebellion up with her pointer finger extended, she made an imaginary bisecting line through her right eye. "... see? No scar. I just look like the Captain, that's all."

    It was easy to tell that her words were having little effect.

    "I promise, I'm not her."

  15. #15
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    The Selkath, and the small crowd his words had caught, looked at her intently.

    "Make way! Make way, I said!" a voice cut through the murmurs and tension, revealing a teenage Togruta girl wearing an equally revealing bikini. "Can't you see that's Loko-ren Splanky? She's very important you know! One word from her and the Aliiance'll be breathing down your necks!"

    The crowd mumbled amongst themselves.

    "What? Was that a tone of disbelief I heard?" the Togruta gasped, spinning around. There were small titters of laughter heard amongst the onlookers. "Obviously it's her, just look! Of course some Alliance big-wig'll schlub down on some public beach with the common folk instead of one o' those swanky private ones..."

    She stopped and looked thoughtful for a moment and then turned to Cerie.

    "Cap'n Spelunker, permission to use your face to access those super private beaches, ma'am!"

    The crowd started laughing, a little more loudly this time.

  16. #16
    Amidst the floating laughter and mirth, there were enough faces that remained stony and unimpressed. One of those, a Quarren, leaned over to a Nautolan, and both whispered to themselves before the Nautolan spoke up over the chuckles surrounding them all.

    "Ain't seein' what's so funny 'bout dis," he called out, "... de Captain and de Imperial Selonian... dey destroyed my shop when de Empire was a'leavin'."

    For a moment, Cerie couldn't help but freeze up, halfway holding out Shuvin's Death Star Superlaser for her to take.

    Imperial Selonian.

    With a grimace, the blonde bit her lower lip as she suddenly felt those awful phantom sausage fingers around her throat. Not to mention the olfactory memory of rotten fish breath.

    With a pained expression, she leaned as close to Shuvin as she dared while whispering to the Togruta.

    "Um, Shuvin... ?"

  17. #17
    TheHolo.Net Poster Lana Wake's Avatar
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    Steam ID: Wake
    "And who would fly them?~ Me?~"


    Lana smiled softly as the Mon Calamari bartender served up increasing amounts of alcohol at a rapid pace towards the intrepid captain. Her eyes were piercing, harmless and yet... imposing. There was something about this man's mannerisms which caused the blonde to be cautious. He seemed... innocent. The concepts of 'innocent' and 'guilty' were a blurred line within the Empire's history, a debatable topic she herself could not ignore in recent years. Something about him made Lana reconsider her stance on this situation. It was either a foretelling from the Force or a change of heart. Either of these explanations for her sudden emotions changed the fates of time.

    "There is more" she spoke softly and quietly. There was ... shame in her voice. Briefly, her eyes moved down to the floor as she considered her next selection of words. "I am... Force Sensitive. Our journey to this tomb-- there are... personal reasons also, contained within the knowledge held which I shall donate after discovery. The University... and... other... educational facilities within the Empire shall receive what we find. Should this change one's mind-- I am content with your decision."


    Her words were followed by a smile, albeit much weaker than the warmth it once held moments ago.

    Internally, the blonde knew speaking truth was a hindrance. Things were easier back when she lied. People were tricked and went about their lives in ignorance of the truth, happy they had helped a passing traveler, refugee or naive human dancer. Lana's new sense of purpose, her upheld moral code was difficult to uphold. It was easier to be a liar. Choosing truth was a mistake, her mind screamed it so. Yet the Force... her emotions... they could not be wrong, could they? Should telling the truth lose her this opportunity to travel with a reputable captain, the travel shall be longer and dubious in nature.


    To wash the thoughts away, Lana picked up her fragile glass and finished the wine in one long swig.

  18. #18
    TheHolo.Net Poster

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    The Quarren's words cut through the humor drifting through the crowd like a chill breeze on a warm day.

    "Um, Shuvin?" Cerie breathed, stepping closer to her. Shuvin glanced back.

    "Not just your shop, eider," the Nautolan said, looking at them in suspicion. "When dat TIE went out of control, one o' dem crashed an' killed near a dozen."

    "Are you sayin' we did that?" Shuvin fired back, her fists clenched. "Come back to look an' laugh?"

    The Nautolan shook his head, and the Quarren and a Selkie formed up with him.

    "A lot of people got hurt cause o' dat Captain and de Selonian," he continued. Shuvin glared hard at him and he smirked, stalking closer. It was an ugly expression on his face, and his posture screamed of aggression. "How do we know you aren't her, eh? Owes some of us somedin for de troubles she caused. Maybe a hurt for a hurt. Likes of her, she's probably hurt far more, and probably deserves a bit o' somedin."

    Shuvin hissed and surged forward, her fist colliding with the Nautolan's face hard.

    "Take that back!" she shouted, only to be set upon by the Quarren.

    "Someone call security!" a voice rang out, but the Togruta was seeing red and behind her eyes was that pained hurt expression on her big sister's face.

  19. #19
    She had backed away as the Nautolan and Quarren both snarled in her direction, but it was Shuvin who seemed to just... take over. Not in the most genial of way, but given the situation and the direction the crowd was going in, it was about the only way.

    "Shuvin!"

    The drinks were now very much forgotten, and letting each glass drop from her hands, Cerie surged forward to grab her Togruta friend around the waist, trying to curtail any more flailing limbs. And in turn, a rough pair of hands grabbed her, trying to separate the two.

    "Someone call security!"

    It was just not a good day at the beach was her only thought as more hands grabbed hold and pulled her away and down to the sand.

  20. #20
    TheHolo.Net Poster

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    Things happened quick. She punched the Nautolan sleemo, the Quarren shoved her down and Cerie went tumbling with her. Their bags went tumbling too, and the Nautolan and Selkie both pounced, seeing the credit boxes inside.

    "Dis seems like a start to makin' amends," he said, tossing it up and catching it deftly. "Maybe we can pay for de funerals, eh?"

    He spat, red tingeing the pristine white sand of the beach, and he gestured. The Selkie and Quarren backed up and they walked away, silent and still angry.

    Shuvin glared at them the whole time, pulling herself up to her knees as they walked off.

    "Yeah, go on, walk off ya pieces of..." she shouted after them, but remembered Cerie and turned back to her. She helped the blonde up off the sand and dusted her off. "You okay, Cerie? They didn't hurt you or nothin'?"

    The crowd murmured amongst themselves but with the lack of action, started drifting off back to their own activities.

    "You wanna go find Ben, or just head back to the ship?"

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