Hyperspace

*She pushed herself up on her elbows as Val entered, her brow lifting at the furred creature. She accepted the tray gratefully. She knew she had not been eating enough, lately, and Val's concern was...touching. She nearly dropped the tray as Val squeaked her mention of Pago.*

"Val-"

*But she didn't let her interject, her words coming out faster, now. Priya listened carefully, then glanced down at the tray, and slowly took a bite, chewing over it thoughtfully. She only had one conclusion she could draw from it.*

"You are very insightful, you know that?"

*She gestured for the Squib to sit next to her, needing the company as well as her opinion.*

"I'm in..much the same position now that Pago put you in before, Val. I don't WANT him to take care of me, I don't need him to. I'm a loner. I'll always be a loner. But Pago has taken away my ability to take care of myself. How can anyone who gives a fek do that? No, he cares for you, of course, but he doesn't feel that way for me. I know when I'm just a job to someone. I'm a bounty hunter. Everyone's just a job."

*She brushed her hand along the top of Val's head, then tilted her head back to stare at the hull above her.*

"I would have liked to have been more."

Val listened as patiently as she possibly could (which was asking a lot of the excitable creature), taking in Priya's words thoughtfully. Her whiskers twitched even as her ears constantly flicked in different directions with each word, trying to hear her as best as possible. She purred involuntarily as Priya seemed to lightly pet her once, unaccustomed to the strange touch but finding it rather pleasant, ears popping up like tiny flags to signify happiness.

When Priya was done, Val's nose scrunched up in deep thought. It was as if she were trying to sniff out the correct response.

" But ... Is not a Job. Person."

She pointed to herself emphatically.

" Val is not Mechanic, or Cook, or Navigator, or Genius: works as mechanic and cook and navigator and genius. Val is Val. Can be whatever wants to be, ya know? Does not stay around Mister Pago because Mister Pago makes credits: does so because thinks Mister Pago is koovy person. Mister Pago does not keep Val around because is best partner to ever have: keeps Val because thinks Val is koovy too."

Feeling a bit more emboldened, Val reached out very slowly and tapped a paw on Priya's shoulder, withdrawing almost immediately but having her whiskers twitch excitedly at such a brazen act.

" Does not keep Pretty Lady around because is Scary Metal Lady, or because is Pretty; Val thinks keeps Pretty Lady around because wants to have Pretty Lady around. Not just to take care, ya know? To know, to learn, to ..."

Val tried out a few more sounds that were nothing like Galactic Basic, searching for the right word and failing to find it. In frustration, she tore the glove off of her right paw, took one of Priya's hands in her left, and rubbed the soft, blue fur of her unclothed hand on the Mirialian's.

" This. Touch to Squib ... Is ... Is as close to 'sacred' as Squibs know. Means that ... That understands. Thinks Mister Pago wants to understand Pretty Lady ... And maybe have Pretty Lady understand back."

She withdrew her paw, slipping the glove back on again as her ears pressed back to her head dejectedly.

" Pretty Lady is lonely. Mister Pago is lonely. Has ... headaches. Bad Sleeps. Thinks ... Thinks Val may be first friend in long time ... Too long. Does not know why, but ... talks to Val? But never talks to Val. Is ..."

Her ears twitched up and down, almost flapping as she considered the proper word.

" Is sad, sometimes."

*She stared at the Squib, and then down at the hand she had touched. She didn't know it was a sacred thing, but the significance of what Val had said about herself, then the gesture she had made, was not lost on Priya. She could see why Pago was so fond of Val. She was...remarkable.*

"I have been selfish..."

*She hissed in a breath at what she had said. Priya was always selfish, of course. This was nothing new. But, this was the first time she actually felt BAD about being selfish. Her other hand rested on Val's. She trusted the Squib's judgment more than she would most Mirialians.*

"I..I think I understand a little better. Perhaps I should try speaking with him, again. See if he..wants my help."

*She set the tray aside and stood quickly, hurrying towards the cabin door. She glanced behind her with her old, playful grin just before disappearing out of view.*

"I think you're pretty koovy too, Val."

*She crossed the ship, biting on her lower lip as she thought about what the right words would be to say. Maybe just play it by ear. That was what she always did best, after all. Kriff, since when did she care about how things went down just so long as things got done? Since when did she care about what a fekking Jedi thought of her? ...Since Pago, then.

She knocked lightly against the open cockpit door before stepping tentatively inside.*

" Adumar."

Pago was hunched over in his chair, hat off and relaxing on the center console as he seemed to be working furiously over a particular part of the controls of his ship. It was not out of disrespect that the didn't turn towards Priya (her hand, being much larger and stronger than Val's, gave her away at the knock); he simply wanted to double check and make sure he was right. Nothing unnecessary. But even then ...

" Karking Corellian Hells ... It had to be Adumar ..."

He leaned back in his seat, turning it around to face Priya with a soft, slightly displeased smile. Not at her presence, but their destination.

" Dunno if you've ever been but it's not exactly the most fun place. Crazy bastards and their honor duels, they're the most polite sociopaths I've ever met in my enti-"

He stopped himself.

Sighed.

Patted the co-pilot's chair next to him.

" Let me start over."

He took a deep breath. Sometimes, for all the power of his silver tongue, Pago had a tendency to forget simple social graces.

" Hi. Thank you for knocking. I'm sorry I screwed things up with Boocha. But I can fix it. I promise I'll make this all up to you, and if you leave after we finish this, I get it. I'd be more than happy to keep you aboard: I would certainly enjoy that view every day. But I'll make this up to you. And from there, well, that's you."

He held out an open hand to her, tilting his head as he locked his chocolate brown eyes with her amethyst gems.

" Deal?"

"Stars and galaxies, Pago!"

*She growled and raised her hands in frustration, pacing in a tiny circle around the small cockpit.*

"You make it fekking impossible for a girl to apologize FIRST."

*She collapsed into the co-pilot's seat, staring at him for a long moment as she tapped her clawed glove against her lip. Then, she reached for his hand.

Pulled it back. She remembered what Val had done, and she removed her own gauntlet, exposing her bare palm. She clasped her unclad hand against his, her eyes locking with his.*

"Maybe you were right. Maybe I like being here, on this ship, with you and the Squib. I don't mind going to Adumar so much."

*She bit down on her lip again, showing an uncharacteristic lack of confidence.*

"Would you still let me stay, if I asked?"

Pago tilted his head at her, wondering why she even needed to ask such a question.

" Priya, you could stay for as long as you wished. I thought that was pretty clear?"

He leaned back in his chair, noting that it was with actual skin that Priya sealed her agreement with him. The armor was coming off ... Maybe in more ways than just physically.

He smiled softly as something finally caught his attention, giving her an inquisitive look. His eyebrows raised a bit: surprise.

" You called me by my name ..."

Pago laughed softly, almost incredulously. In their time together so far she had never called him by his actual name, always going for whatever term of endearment or sarcastic title she could bestow at the time.

" You never call me by my name ..."

He got a sudden, devious grin on, leaning back further in his chair until fully relaxed. His boots crossed as he threw his hands behind his hand victoriously.

" I kinda like it."

[i:1qhfh53j][color=#BFBFFF:1qhfh53j]*She tilted her head inquisitively as he smiled at her, his expression gradually changing to one of amusement. His brows lifted. What? What was it? She ran a nail across her mouth. Did she have some breaded fish stuck in her teeth? That would be embarrassing. No, seemed fine. She lowered her hand and her lips parted to ask why he was looking at her like that, when he said it.*[/color:1qhfh53j][/i:1qhfh53j]

[quote="Pago Julastra":1qhfh53j][color=teal:1qhfh53j]" You called me by my name ..."

" You never call me by my name ..."[/color:1qhfh53j][/quote:1qhfh53j]

[i:1qhfh53j][color=#BFBFFF:1qhfh53j]*She jerked. That was the only word for it. A sudden seize of her muscles as a physical reaction induced by an irrational emotional one. She'd let that slip by her without realizing it. She was growing too familiar with him, which is an odd thought to think considering she wanted to get a lot friendlier with him in the physical sense. That was the usual chain of events when bunking with a spacer she was attracted to, after all, but for some reason, she had kept herself from crossing over that barrier entirely with Pago. Maybe it was exactly for the reason that she was getting too familiar with him. Attachments were dangerous in their line of work, after all, that's why they tended to travel alone. Or maybe she sensed he wasn't receptive to that sort of casual fling.

She ran her hand through her hair and scoffed as an excuse to break eye contact with him, so she didn't have to stare at that appealing grin of his.*[/color:1qhfh53j][/i:1qhfh53j]

"Yeah well, don't get too used to it. Wouldn't want you thinking we're friends or nothin'."

*She flashed that million-credit smile of her own, her words full of jest.*

" Thinkin' we were friends?"

Pago could only grin teasingly at her taken-aback reaction. It was cute, he had to say. Finally having the upper hand in this back-and-forth of theirs felt ... kind of good. It was certainly a situation he could get used to: seeing her flustered ... He had to admit, it was something of a turn on: to see the sassy and aggressive Priya melted down to a schoolgirl with a crush.

Hunter's were generally aggressive people. They had an urge, an instinct for the chase. When they wanted something, they pursued. Usually relentlessly.

" I was thinkin' we could be a bit more than that, cheeka."

There was an innocent charm to his voice even as he turned back towards the display of the ship, letting the statement hang idly. The first key to any successful hunt, after all, was proper bait.

So he let Priya do as she would even as he prepared the last bits of their trip to hyperspace, feigning disinterest while tinkering on a datapad and inputting coordinates. Nonchalantly he tugged off his normal long coat, resting it on the back of his chair to leave him in solely a somewhat snug white T. He stretched his arms out, ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, and faux-absorbed himself in his work.

[quote="Ferric Fireheart":tjj0gauq][url=http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Ando_Prime:tjj0gauq][color=lightblue:tjj0gauq][b:tjj0gauq]Ando Prime[/color:tjj0gauq][/b:tjj0gauq][/url:tjj0gauq]

[narration:tjj0gauq]It was upon my sixteenth birthday on a regular day, well as regular as any other, or at least it should have been....[/narration:tjj0gauq]

[action:tjj0gauq]I woke up to the sunlight that flooded my room it was so deceptive, tucked up in a warm bed one could easily mistake the situation for being on any planet but Ando Prime wasn't just any planet as far as things went it was a tad warmer then Hoth and therefore it was decided that it was hospitable, which ever nut job decided this I very much wished to meet so I could kick them.

I groaned and rolled out of bed quite literally and lay slumped upon the less warm floor for a few minutes before rising to hit the refresher, once having doused myself in the warmest experience one could find on Ando I quickly; quickly being the operative word, put on warm clothes which encompassed of thick trousers, a woolen shirt, a second woolen shirt, a fleece and over this a jacket which was beautiful shade of bright orange, most attractive. Yet since the death of my parents in a mind shaft explosion I had no choice but to take on their job and work of their credit, or at least try yo. Try to work of credit owed to a Hutt, yeah and right up until that point I thought describing Ando Prime as hospitable was crazy.

So here I was to spend most likely the rest of my sorry existence working of a never ending and ever growing debt of which I wasn't sure existed in the first place, but hey this was a criminal world of the beaten track that know one cared about.

I stepped out of my apartment and rode the turbolift with several others down to the ground floor where we, we being many individuals clad in the gaudy orange jackets clambered aboard hover lorries that would ferry us toward the mine to begin our shift.[/action:tjj0gauq][/quote:tjj0gauq]

[url=http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Ando_Prime:tjj0gauq][color=lightblue:tjj0gauq][b:tjj0gauq]Ando Prime[/color:tjj0gauq][/b:tjj0gauq][/url:tjj0gauq]

[action:tjj0gauq]I disembarked from the hover lorry leaping down from the rear of the vehicle I pulled up the collar of my jacket against the chill air and became as one with the trudging group as we collected our power jacks and other tools we then moved toward the darkly lit entrance to the mine. Manned either side by a guard dressed in white with a faceless plasteel helmet.

We mechanically passed the machines based at the turnstiles to clock in and swiped our cards before moving toward the bank of turbolifts, I entered the lift with thirteen others all fairly silent ready for the drop. I looked up and watched for the light to turn from red to green and then the lift dropped.[/action:tjj0gauq]

*Accessing the patient files that the Vor doctor provided for Lt. Witwer on the datapad as she makes her way from the cockpit to the room that has been set up for the injured pilot, Meryn familiarizes herself with his injuries, the treatment that has been administered thusfar and what medications and antibiotics are being administered to him currently to gain as full an understanding of his current condition as possible so that it can inform her efforts to heal him through and with Ashla.

Once inside the room, the first thing that Meryn does is shut the medical droid that Seleevan's medics had sent along with Lt. Witwer down; she would not put it past Seleevan to have altered the droid's programming so that it would be able to act as a spy or some other scheme and has no need of it in any event. Once the droid has been rendered inert, Meryn checks the lines that have been established in Lt. Witwer's arms, his vital signs and the levels of the antibiotics, painkillers and medications he is being administered to make sure that nothing will need to be replaced anytime soon as she cannot know how long she will be in the trance-like meditative state she will enter in order to heal his injuries as best she, with and through Ashla can.

When she is ready to begin, Meryn sits crosslegged at the side of the medical capsule Lt. Witwer had been placed in and closes her blue eyes, slowing and focusing on her breathing to begin entering a meditative state.* *As she feels her focus narrow to the task she has assigned herself Meryn feels her perceptions undergo a familiar, for her, shift from the tangible or physically observable to the intangible as she opens herself to Ashla, feeling Her around and within herself and Lt. Witwer and then, narrowing her focus even further, within and between herself and Lt. Witwer.

Perceiving injury as restlessly shifting white areas within her patient's otherwise blue aura, Meryn can "see" the physical damage she, working in concert with Ashla, must address - guiding Cal's body's natural efforts to heal to work at a pace more swift than that it could achieve alone. Beginning with the abdominal wound, Meryn urges damaged tissue, muscle and organs to repair themselves.

Time loses all meaning, first one hour and then another passing as Meryn goes ever deeper into her trance, her focus narrowing to a fine point as she, with the guidance and assistance of Ashla, continues to augment Cal's natural healing processes and spur them on to a pace greater than that medical science alone would enable recovery to take place . . .*

*Knowing that Nelente will need time and undisturbed tranquility to heal Witwer, Torian consigns himself to the fact that whatever it is that she has to tell him about the details of Khar's proposed ceasefire will need to wait until they have completed the journey to Corellia and she has had time to recuperate from the exhaustion that her efforts will cause.

Torian spends the first part of the hyperspace journey, from the Mid Rim to a point where he needs to exit hyperspace to resume their journey on the Hydian Way, in the cockpit brooding on all that he learned of Khar during his captivity, trying to understand why it is that the Vor inspires such contempt within him and yet has earned Torian's begrudging respect all the same. Torian is all but certain that the ceasefire and even their release from captivity are moves upon an unseen board that bring Khar closer to some unfathomable end, and he tries, fruitlessly, to anticipate what that intended end might be.

As Torian broods, their ship continues hurtling on and towards its final destination.*

*She had reached the agreed upon coordinates.

The unpainted Infiltrator eased out of hyperspace, the blur of stars gradually solidifying in her viewport to distant sparkling pinpoints. More frequently, Lita Trykk would have preferred making this sort of mission in her beloved Firespray, better suited even than the agile Infiltrator for black ops. But...this close to Iridonian space...the former holder of the Dark Diamond Palace's throne knew it would be too risky to be spotted in such a recognizable ship as the "Impure." There were few left in the galaxy that didn't know to associate that ship with her name.

And so she chose the one vessel in her fleet that had no markings, had never been given any, and that the only man possibly left alive to know that this "Unnamed" ship belonged to Lita Trykk was a Kaminoan that no one had seen nor heard of in many years. The "Unnamed" was a black, shadowy matte that reflected no light against the dark expanse of empty space.

No, not completely empty. Her two hearts stuttered beneath her breast as the Infiltrator shimmied and groaned, a red alarm lighting up as it indicated the ship had been locked within a powerful tractor beam and was inexorably being pulled. Lita silenced the alarm, then leaned back in her seat, waiting with some trepidation for the Acclimator, coincidentally out here with her in the middle of nowhere, to pull her within its hold.

She wasn't entirely certain if she was, in fact, meeting a friend, or a dangerous foe.

When at last the ship was pulled within the Star Destroyer's bay, Lita sat for a moment longer, her eyes closed as she reached out with the force, touching upon the minds and intentions of those around her. When she was satisfied that no immediate hostility was there, she engaged the boarding ramp to lower beneath the nose of the infiltrator, then disembarked onto the floor of the docking bay and lowered her hood, looking for the one who would meet with her.*

*The time had come.

The viewport of the Acclamator II-class Star Destroyer "Firestorm" was growing to be too small for the Iridonian Zabrak that peered through into the black cold of space. His red eyes stayed fixed on a point in the heavens as he waited for something to appear. He folded his arms beneath his robes, awaiting the time. He wasn't impatient. Mareth had the patience of a Sarlacc and was rarely impatient for anything.

And so it came and he rose from his seat at the helm of the ship. He strode with purpose, headed down towards the hangar bay even as the sound reverberated through the halls telling of a successful tractor beam attachment. He soon found himself standing before the doors.

He had called her here because he had a proposition to make her. Her, the exile of Iridonia. Mareth Opress stood in the hanger bay even as he watched the ship come gliding in. He walked towards the unmarked ship after pulling up his hood to conceal his features. His lightsabers bounced at his side.

He smiled, showing sharp teeth as she stepped into the hangar bay. He spoke to her, bowing his head.*

"Welcome aboard the Firestorm, Lita Trykk. I trust your voyage was uneventful? Come, there are refreshments waiting in the conference room and I am sure you are needing it after a long voyage. We can discuss matters there."

*She turned her head slightly, the bits of metal in her ears and at her neck catching the light. Her eyes narrowed with undisguised suspicion at this cowled Zabrak. This must be the one whom had sent the encrypted subspace message, an encryption that she herself had designed, and she thought abandoned or destroyed once the new emperor had taken control.

She saw a hint of black, heavily tattooed skin beneath the hood and beyond the row of sharp teeth. Her anxiety increased. On the surface, it seemed beyond foolish for Lita to even accept this meeting, much less take this venture alone, informing no one of her whereabouts. Truth be told, when she first received the message, she had discarded it. But it bothered her, nagged at her during her hours of force meditation or sleep cycle. The dark side energies were aligning in a particular way, and Lita was helpless to do anything but follow.

Her blood-red eyes flickered around their surroundings, getting a body count, planning escape routes, but her hands remained relaxed at her sides. She returned the dark-skinned Iridonian's bow with one of her own, then wordlessly followed him into the conference room. She would allow him the chance to explain himself before she began asking questions. She was at the disadvantage, here, in every way one could be.*

*Mareth was very pleased that she had come. It was not beyond him to think that she may not have, but this he had foreseen. At least, once the ship had arrived in space, he knew that he was correct and that she would in fact come aboard the ship. Apart from that, he was unsure whether the future would hold such designs as he wished it to. Sometimes, you could see a possible future flicked past your viewport but more often than not, it would not come to pass.

He walked with her following behind, making his way down the hall of the big Destroyer until they reached one of the many doors within these clean white halls. He waved a hand over the access port and the door opened. He walked inside and took a seat at the head of the long table that greeted them within the room. On the table was placed many different forms of food and drink, which Mareth had asked for. He took a glass and poured himself some Corellian ale and took a drink before setting it down.

He looked towards her.*

"I was not sure if you would come. You're a hard woman to find, Lita Trykk. Before I remove my hood, please know that I am not your enemy here. This is a discussion in order to benefit us both."

*He reached up and pulled back the cowl, revealing his tattooed face. Mareth Opress, one of the council that had exiled her from Iridonia.

"I have asked you to come here to discuss Iridonia. To discuss your unjust exile. But more importantly, to discuss something that is of an interest to you: taking the Dark Diamond Throne."

*She scanned the array of foods and drink on the table, then lifted a brow as though to ask if this was an attempt to impress her. She remained standing, her eyes never leaving the male Zabrak as he lowered himself to the seat of his high position and helped himself to the weak ale.

It seemed the far stronger liquor developed by Count Kamy, the Blood of Iridonia, was not so easy to come by, anymore.

Her eyes narrowed as he spoke, then shot open with recognition as he lowered his hood, revealing his face to her. A member of her own council, the one whom had fought so hard against her. Well, no longer her council, now, was it.*

"Lord Opress."

*To her credit, she recovered from her surprise quickly. After all, she didn't know whom to expect from the palace to call her, here. But now her wariness had grown. Her hand shifted subtly to her hip, and she bladed her stance just slightly, defensively.*

"...How is it that you know of my interests? And how does it benefit you?"

*He nodded at her question, though his eyes lit up somewhat with mirth. What other option could she have? He had seen the way she had looked when she left. Seen how the tragedy had occured. Unjust, unfair. All these things came together so that Lita Trykk was deposed from power and pushed away from her beloved Iridonia. Surely, it was not too hard to put the pieces together? For him, he had another advantage. The gift of Precognition and his sensitive sight into others. He knew that she would have these feelings. He had seen her as she had left and he knew, he knew that she was going without a fight because all that fight had been sucked from her.

But now it was back. He could sense it the moment he saw her. The fight and want to regain power, to return to her position in Iridonia. It was no question that she would get such a chance to do so. That was where his clan came into play. He folded his hands together and leaned forward in his chair.*

"I have certain abilities that help guide my path through this life. The Force allows me such things. But as I said, your exile was unjust. So it is natural that you would want your seat back. The one that was taken from you so unfairly. As for what would I gain from it? My family is already powerful. If I were to strike an allegiance with you, it would be mutually beneficial.

But come, take a seat. Is the food or drink not to your liking? I can ask for more to be brought out if there is something in particular you have in mind. There is no need for violence or tension. This is a discussion between equals."

*He bared his teeth in a feral smile.

"Though if it is a fight you want, I can offer you such." *His hands touched against the two lightsabers at his sides lightly.*

*Lita remained unmoving, studying his red eyes for a long moment, allowing the silence to draw out between them. Then, she slowly smiled, just a slight upturn of one corner of her mouth that could so dramatically alter the normally stoic expression. Her fingers curled around the extended hilt of her saberstaff, removing it from her hip and setting it down hard against the tabletop, the gesture loaded with meaning.*

"Later."

*The word was filled with the promise of a fight to come, likely before she left the 'Firestorm.' It was not in any way a threat, but rather the pleasure of aggressive competitiveness that so marked their shared culture. It would seem strange to less war-like races that, the moment Lita began trusting Mareth Opress was the moment he showed a hint of hostility.

She lowered herself to sit caddy-corner to Mareth's left, then poured herself a glass of the Corellian ale that was available. She quaffed it quickly, then grimaced at its weakness with a flash of teeth. Still, perhaps it was best for them both to keep clear heads during these talks.*

"I have been in negotiations with certain criminal cartels, though they would prefer their involvement not be known. I also have access to a number of mercenaries, Jedi, and Sith all. My connections seem greater than they are, though, for they are widely scattered and difficult to organize, even more difficult to convince to work together. I know it goes against our grain, but I would prefer a bloodless take-over. I need updated schematics of all of the security systems in place, the new access codes, and a way inside. I want the war to be won before the Emperor even realizes I'm sitting on his throne. Failing that..."

*She scowled.*

"...it'll be a fleet battle against the planetary defense systems, and Malidris will be heavily damaged if that cannot be avoided."

*She turned her hard gaze onto his.*

"In addition to that information, I need someone on the inside to determine who is loyal to the current regime and who is not."

The Crowing continued traveling through the Hyperspace lanes toward Nar Shaddaa with Tyrana and Inferno in tow.

Inferno, fairly intoxicated from the tihaar - being the lightweight that he was when it came to drinking, stumbled back from the cockpit to sit next to Ty once again.
"So we should be getting to Shar Nadada pretty soon," he updated her while grabbing his half-empty bottle and taking another short drink.

*Ty giggled and looked at the bottle in his hand*
got any more?
*She leaned against him, looking up with a smile*