Open Space and Asteroid Field

*She was watching him very closely, though he didn't show any indication of being aware of it. Her fascination even outweighed the blanket of relief at no longer being trapped within a labyrinth of corridors that made no sense. The more time she spent around him, the more...odd...things seemed to happen conveniently for them. Or rather, for Oz specifically. She knew that door had been locked a moment ago, just as she knew the blasters the falleen's henchmen had attempted to use had been fully operational a moment before Oz had turned that corner.

There was no doubt about it. Somehow, Oz was making these things happen by some force that was...more than human. And Nedya had ever read of one thing that seemed a likely possibility...but it always read like some sort of myth, or religious experience. It wasn't real, was it? Well, she'd seen enough mythology come to life to write it off as impossible.*

*Oh...that's odd, he's avoiding looking at me again.*

*She tilted her head slightly as she tried to follow his averted gaze, then conceded defeat with a sigh and looked away.*

"I cannot afford any rooms up here."

*She looked down at the pistol in her hand, then hurriedly tucked it in the back of her belt.*

"...Can't risk returning to the one I rented, either."

*So much for finding easy work. She wondered if anyone on the upper levels of the station needed a datakeeper. Certainly she had a number of advanced skills in regards to biochemistry and anatomy, but the means by which she had obtained those skills would not go over well in an interview. A mundane job would have to do.

Kriff, it would be a challenge to learn anything from Oz if she had to keep regular hours away from him, but it'd be a hell of a lot trickier if she was forced to leave the station. She combed her hands through her dark hair, making a vain attempt to restore some order to it so that she did not appear quite like a savage animal before stepping out into the lit corridor with Oz.*

"Plenty of corners to hole up in until I find something more permanent, though."

*For a while, Oz just looked at Nedya with a dumbfounded glaze over his eyes.* *What does she mean "afford any rooms up here"? It's not like she'll have to... OH! She thinks she'll have to pay... That's awkward.* *Oz then tried to speak to her, but found his mouth curiously unwilling and shifted his eyes away from her face. Then her chest... then her stomach, then her hips, then her... Ya know what? Let's just say he decided to keep an eye out for a security droid while he talked.* "I do own this place you know. My friends don't have to pay for rooms. Just pick an empty one and Indy will..."



"Indy?" *The tone was Indy's, but the voice was that of an archaic B-1 battle droid, and the fact that it was Indy's tones coming out of the body of the aforementioned B-1 droid took Oz completely by surprise.* "Is that you?"



"Hold on... you just, took it over? You can DO that?" *She can DO that?! I didn't design her to do that! How can she do that?* "How can you do that?" *Even as he spoke, his mind was reaching out and trying to probe the droid's programming, which was significantly more complicated than either the B-1 or Indy had been capable of when they were created.*



*Her usual hardware being, of course, the extensively redesigned super-processor housed in the central sphere of the lucrehulk.*



*OW!* *Oz flinched visibly as Indy forced his mental hack out of her new platform and firewalled the thing up tighter than anything he'd seen before. It would even take HIM almost a week to break in. He glanced at Nedya with a slightly wounded look in his eyes.* "She didn't used to be that mean. Or that resourceful..." *The wounded look disappeared almost immediately though, replaced by one of curiosity mixed with determination.* "I wonder just how much she's exceeded her original programming. Maybe I can get in and find out if I...



"I know!" *I totally knew that...* *Without so much as a heartfelt goodbye, Oz began wondering off in the general direction of the starboard workshop, his mind churning with ideas and plans to break through Indy's formidable security.*

*in hyperspace...*

*Galdaart Fel is awakened by the chiming of the alarm in his comm unit. For a moment, he feels disoriented: what is this place? different smells, the bulkheads don't look familiar... then the brain catches up with the optic nerve, and he remembers it all, clearer than sandblasted glass.

Coruscant. The Loronar. Their contract. Wade.

He sat up, and quickly checked the chron in his comm unit: 35 minutes till they engaged sublight engines. He ran fingers through messy, greasy hair and scratched at his five days' growth of beard. A shower would be good. Mebbe some food.

He walked aft, checked the internal cams from the sec station. Seemed apart from some minor movement in the passenger lounge, he was the only one awake aboard the ship. Checked his chron again -- six hours they'd been in hyperspace. He felt refreshed, but filthy. Awake and not in some kind of dream-limbo, for the first time in ages, it seemed. He entered the 'fresher, and turned on the shower - hot. Took his time, scrubbing off layers of grime and blood. Found a razor in the 'fresher. A little better than a butter knife. Shaved. Dried himself and looked in the mirror. Hard, wiry, scarred skin, ruddy from the hot shower, peered back at him. He looked at the ruined tattoos partially obscured by the scar tissue on his right arm. Part of his Imperial service ID barcode was still visible, and he searched the scarring for signs of his squadron logo, but it was lost.

His hair was getting long enough that he could partially tie it back, so he left the back loose, but pulled the bangs and a portion of the top back into a sort-of scruffy half-ponytail.

Pulling on his pants and boots, the pilot went back into the crew lounge, and, spying some lockers on the port bulkhead, went over to check out the offerings. Inside he found a button-up work shirt with a patch on the left breast that read 'Arliss Haulage' and a patch on the right breast that had the name 'Boyd' in dark letters. Shrugging, he pulled the shirt on, leaving the top few buttons undone and his hair dripping-dry. What few articles of clothing he had were aboard the UA. This would suffice.

He checked his chron again. Time to go to work. He entered the bridge, and the lights activated by motion sensor, bringing the consoles and dim overheads to life. Fel sat at the pilots' station and opened the blast shutters covering the viewports. As he did so, the blue-grey, swirling tunnel of hyperspace appeared, adding additional light to the scene.

Fel pulled on his fingerless gloves, feeling the familiar resistance as he flexed each fist. Flipping on the internal comm channel, he sent the crew their wake-up call...*

Crew report to the bridge. Crew to the bridge... five minutes to sublight.

*He looked over his shoulder at the astromech droid, Scrapheap, and placed his hands on the unfamiliar control surfaces. It was time.*

=R5-E1 Scrapheap=
*The faithful R5 droid's three photo-receptors lit up in recognition as Fel returned, casting a faint blue hue into the darkness and reflecting off the shining clean control surfaces for a split second before the bridge lights awoke. There was a faint whirring noise as his head spun slowly from side to side, and then the droid clicked twice to himself, and re-activated the navicomputer's holodisplay for the Smuggler's Run.*

*After a full night connected to the ship's power, the droid was 100% recharged, and ready for action. But his focus was elsewhere, querying the ship's computer for the hundredth time, to locate his mistress. Captain Fel's com call would surely bring her to the bridge in a few moments, but he had yet to have a chance inspect her. Had she been properly cleaned up after her adventures in that nasty dirty underworld, not just from her injuries, but just from general contamination? A search of the security holos from the ship's internal computer last placed her as having entered a fresher 13 minutes and 23 seconds ago. Good, Scrappy hooted softly to himself in binary. She would be clean, even if that did place her odds of arrival before their reversion to real space at somewhere around 14 to 1.*

*Consciousness slowly pulled Jace out of his dreams, bringing him back to the real world. He wasn't sure if he wanted that or not. On one hand he didn't have to experience past events he'd rather forget but on the other hand he didn't feel fully refreshed. He looked over at the chrono on the desk... roughly a little longer than six hours. Jace sighed slightly as he started to gain clarity from his sleep; six hours was fairly significant for him. For the past month his average had risen from five hours to six. Regardless of how much sleep he got, he had work to do.

Bringing his legs to the side of the bed, he had all but forgotten about the brace on his leg until he tried to stand up. He stumbled forward, catching himself on the bed before his body had a chance to tip over. Boy, was he getting sick of this thing already. He tilted his leg so he could get a better view of the bacta vice on his leg. The container holding the bacta had a black, viscous fluid in it, which meant he could get this thing off of him. He grabbed a clean towel and stepped into the hallway, walking through the lounge and up to the refresher. His hand stopped a few inches from the door-panel when he realized the shower inside was going. He wasn't the only early riser. Taking a step back he thought of the ship's layout and where the refreshers where. Most of them didn't have a shower unit in them, but if he recalled correctly...

Walking back from the way he came, he passed by where he slept and gingerly opened the door to the ship's Captain's Quarters. Relieved that he hadn't disrupted somebody's slumber, he walked into the refresher and turned on the shower. Stripping his clothes off and stepping in when the shower was relatively warm, he let the water splash over him and wash off the grime. After going through his hair and body, he knelt down to get a better look at the bacta clamp on his leg. He unhitched the mechanism and pulled it off of his leg, letting the black liquid splash onto the floor and slowly swirl down the drain with the rest of the dirt and blood. He tightened his leg muscles, feeling the slight soreness they had to them but enjoying the freedom it brought. After finishing up in the shower he returned to the room and pulled out a familiar set of clothes. A white tank-top covered by a slick, black windbreaker. Grey cargo-pants and black boots were followed up with his gun belt and his trusty Verpine-Pistol. After sliding a throwing knife in the secret compartment of his right boot and slipping his datapad into his jacket, Jace deemed himself 'operational' and left for the bridge.

A minute after Fel had summoned everybody to the bridge, Jace strolled in. He took the seat by the door, resisting the urge to kick his feet up on the console next to him. He had already messed the bridge up once, and whoever cleaned it up, who did a fantastic job now that Jace looked around, would not have been happy. He nodded to the captain, and then took a glance out through the viewport.* "A six hour flight? I'm guessing we are making a pit stop or two before we head to Dorin?"

[narration:etq7w52c]A little more than five hours after that initial jolt had kicked us into hyperspace, I was done with my examination of the datacards. I had found a very disturbing entry on the last datacard, but I tried to force that discovery out of my mind. There was nothing whatsoever that I could do until I found out what was on the encrypted card and why these people were being targeted and for what purpose. I tucked away the cards, then popped the datapad open once more, and pressed the factory reset button that I had located earlier. It couldn't hurt to be too careful. I needed to talk to Jace about decryption as soon as I got a chance, and fill Fel in on my discovery.[/narration:etq7w52c]

[narration:etq7w52c]Testing my arms and legs, I found that my body had largely caught up with my refreshed mental state, and I sat up, swinging my legs over the edge of the medical bed without making a sound. A quick glance showed that our strange blue employer was still lightly asleep in his chair. Good. Noiselessly, on feet long practiced with the exercise of stealth, I got to my feet and slipped from the med center, leaving the datapad on the counter as I left.[/narration:etq7w52c]

[narration:etq7w52c]Out in the hallway, I stretched my stiffened limbs, and jumped up and down a few times. Then, suddenly shivering as the cool of outer space permeated the thin jumpsuit I still wore, I took off at a brisk pace for the upper cargo bay, where the Eagle had landed. At some point, I would need to move all of my kit over to the as yet unexplored crew quarters, but that could wait. I'd just get a change of clothes and a few weapons for now. Searching the fresher stations until I found one with a shower, I slipped out of the torn, stained jumpsuit and turned the temperature as hot as it would go. It seemed like an eternity before the stream of water ran out of dirt, grime, oil, and dried blood to remove from my body. The doctor had done a nice job with my face and hands and had even gotten most of the blood out of my hair, but there was a lot left too. Finally, I judged myself to be clean, and shut off the shower.[/narration:etq7w52c]

[narration:etq7w52c]I had picked clothes with our impending repair work on the damaged freighters in mind. Over top of my customary black jumpsuit, my wrist console, and my holdout blaster in its holster, I donned a dark green jacket with numerous pockets, a pair of tan cargo pants, and a black utility belt. I slid the datacards into one side pocket of the pants, and tucked my DL-44s into the utility belt, then slid my feet into a pair of very worn ankle-height brown work boots. Everything was spotlessly clean, an unusual feature for a smuggler's wardrobe. I could thank Scrappy for that.[/narration:etq7w52c]

[quote="Galdaart Fel":etq7w52c]Crew report to the bridge. Crew to the bridge... five minutes to sublight.[/quote:etq7w52c]
[narration:etq7w52c]I was just having a look in the mirror and combing my wet hair when Fel's voice came over the comlink embedded in my wrist console. I smiled slightly, wondering where we could have arrived so quickly after departing Coruscant. It was time to go upstairs and find out. Presumably, Scrappy was on the bridge as well, assisting the captain, and that's why he had yet to pay me a visit, which otherwise would have been very out of character for the faithful droid.[/narration:etq7w52c]

[narration:etq7w52c]Another minute and a half, and I quietly entered the bridge, hair still damp from the shower.[/narration:etq7w52c] "Good morning Captain, Good morning Jace." [narration:etq7w52c]I acknowledged the two sentient occupants of the room, then gave Fel a curious look.[/narration:etq7w52c] "So when do we find out about our new job? Our employer seems to be a talented medic, among many other things." [narration:etq7w52c]Moving across the room, I stood next to Scrappy. The R5 unit squeaked as I laid a hand on his shiny green and white dome.[/narration:etq7w52c]

[size=150:31psxs1h]~~~~~SOME YEARS AGO~~~~~
[/size:31psxs1h]
[narration:31psxs1h]He approached the apartment, the cover of night masking the steps of his knee high black boots, the all pervading darkness of the underworld of coruscant pierced only by the sharp light of neon. Quickly, he stole into the entrance of the apartment complex - a tall, spiraling affair that dwarfed many of the complexes here in the underworld. No doubt, it was part of of the lower (and now forgotten) levels of some upper world apartment complex miles above. The size of the structure was no concern though - the man knew his mission. Quickly, he took lifts, stair wells, and hall ways...traversing the veritable maze of homes, until...

He was there; megablock 5, sub block 4, apartment 3. The residence of Dorian Delgrave.[/narration:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]In the darkness, the man eyed the door to the apartment; a simple electronic lock kept the automatic sliding door locked...needing only an ID card for access. Childs play. Taking out a small cardbreaker, he attached the electronic device to the card reader, and with a beep the machine went to work. A mere few moments later, the machines red light turned green - indicating that it had found the doors simple magnetically encoded six digit pass. With a hiss, the door slid open - revealing the surprised faces of a young woman, and a young man - some fourteen years old. The woman opened her mouth to scream, the man lurched to grab a firearm from a drawer in the apartments kitchen...[/action:31psxs1h]

[size=150:31psxs1h][action:31psxs1h]FFFT. FFFT.[/action:31psxs1h][/size:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]A pair of darts, launched from an aerosol pistol in the mans hand, hit first the woman, and then the young man. A pair of thuds - the thud of corpses, poisoned from a nerve toxin - greeted the mans ears before the noise from the pistol had even died away. Slowly, the man walked to the bodies - carefully pulling the darts out of their bodies. He paused though, taking the time to close their eyes - under his breath, he muttered a prayer as he did so. Their rights attended to, he stood, and turning, stepped out into the hall way once again. A tap of a button, and the cardbreaker locked the apartments doors...there was only one thing left to do. Taking out a can of aerosol based paint, he sprayed a crude looking "S" across the door, and then, bending carefully, placed the can next to the door. The man wore gloves - most important for not disturbing the planted DNA on the can. His work done, the man turned away...disappearing back down the halls, unnoticed by the denizens of the apartment.[/action:31psxs1h]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[action:31psxs1h]Dorian Delgrave whistled a happy tune as he finished his desk job down in the underworld pawn - he was the accountant, balancing the numbers, maybe skinning a little off the top when he felt like it. Hey, whatever it took to feed his family - growing boys of fourteen needed to eat. And the wife...well, she did appreciate a gift or so every once a while.[/action:31psxs1h]

[npc name=Dorian:31psxs1h]"Kid eats too much...wife talks too much."[/npc:31psxs1h] [action:31psxs1h]Muttered Dorian under his breath. Inwardly though, he had to smile; a lot of people thought that life down here was pretty bad...it wasn't though. You could find love down here...like Melissa. True, they met when he tried to skip out on his tab in a diner, but still...it was love. And what about family? They said starting a family down here was condemning them to the same life; thievery for your sons, prostitution or slavery for your girls...but look at Breydon - fourteen, and straight as a stick. He wanted to be a cop when he grew up...even had a beat up air pistol that he carried around, took him near three months to find all the parts.[/action:31psxs1h]

[narration:31psxs1h]Life was hard, but good. He had a beautiful wife, a son, a healthy family - steady job that wasn't too corrupt. Life was good. Hell, they were even saving money to get off this trash heap rock.[/narration:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]Walking the few blocks to the apartment complex, Dorian whistled a carefree tune, though he inconspicuously checked behind him occasionally to make sure he wasnt being followed. Eventually he made it to the apartment complex, and walking in, started the long trek to his apartment. That was the bad thing about these places - when you first moved in, you literally had to have a map to figure out where you were going. After a year or so, you pretty much memorized the path.[/action:31psxs1h]

[npc name=Dante:31psxs1h]"Left, right, straight, right, left, straight, right, right, up three levels, right, left, forward, right, double back, up three, left, right, back down one level, straight down the hall to..."[/npc:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]He froze. At the end of his hall was his apartment...and...on the door...[/action:31psxs1h]

[npc name=Dorian:31psxs1h]"No...no...no no...please no..."[/npc:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]S. S for Syndicate. Hands shaking, he pulled out his access card...he fumbled the first swipe, scraping the card against the door instead. A curse - he tried again. A click, a green light, the door slid open.[/action:31psxs1h]

[npc name=Dorian:31psxs1h]"..."[/npc:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]The bodies of his wife and son greeted him, eyes closed, but from the way they lay on the floor...[/action:31psxs1h]

[npc name=Dorian:31psxs1h]"..."[/npc:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]There are no words to describe that moment; that moment when everything inside you dies. When your world comes crashing down - and ultimately your the only one left...you, and rage. Pure, animal rage.

And on that day...Dorian was no different.[/action:31psxs1h]

[size=150:31psxs1h]~~~~~SIX MONTHS LATER~~~~~
[/size:31psxs1h]
[narration:31psxs1h]The shoes on his feet were filth, the rubber soles peeling away from disuse. His pants, sack cloth, and stained with urine and feces. His shirt - what shirt? A bare chest, malnourished, his ribs showing easily...his face, obscured by a tangled mass of stinking waist length hair. Matted, and dirty - the hobo held a bottle of booze in one hand. This was Dorian Delgrave...former father...former husband. With every cent spent, with every resource of a middle class man dried up - his only lead a can of spray paint with DNA on it...DNA that lead nowhere. Each time he tried to track it, each time an analyst got a result...they clammed up. He tried bribes - they refused. He spent hundreds of thousands to hire the dirtiest of slicers...they died in gruesome ways before Dorian could find the results. And all because of the Syndicate. The Syndicate. Too powerful for him to fight, to get revenge. Too powerful for one man to pursue. So now he sat - wasting away, with the only thing to show for his efforts being a single picture of a mans face.[/narration:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]Foot steps approached...the dull thunk of heavy soles plodding down the alley. Uncaring, Dorian ignored it - most people ignored him...he was beyond poor. Below the notice of thieves and muggers. Slowly, a pair of boots came into sight...a pair of knee high black boots - a pair of boots, that unknown to Dorian, had been worn by the killer of his family. Silently, Dorian waited for the man to move on. When he didn't, he jerked his head up to squint at the man through bleary eyes.[/action:31psxs1h]

[npc name=Dorian:31psxs1h]"Whadya want mistah."[/npc:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]Slowly, the man crouched in front of the hobo. Bringing himself to eye level.[/action:31psxs1h]

[npc name=Stranger:31psxs1h]"Hello Dorian."[/npc:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]At the mention of his name, Dorian stiffened.[/action:31psxs1h]

[npc name=Dorian:31psxs1h]"How...how you know my name."[/npc:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]The stranger was silent for a while.[/action:31psxs1h]

[npc name=Stranger:31psxs1h]"I've heard about your search. About a way to get back at the Syndicate. And I've come here to offer you a chance. A chance...a chance to take them down. I cant guarantee you will succeed. I can't guarantee that you'll get your revenge. But...I can guarantee you you will have a chance at avenging your family."[/npc:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]Dorian squinted up at the man, the neon sign of a nearby bar obscuring his features.[/action:31psxs1h]

[npc name=Dorian:31psxs1h]"Whatevah. Like you have the resources."[/npc:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]The man moved suddenly, and Dorian flinched in fear. A file slapped onto the ground next to Dorian...thick with pictures, DNA analysis, chemical analysis, crime scene photos, Syndicate movements, and biographies. In disbelief, Dorian snatched the folder up, and began riffling through the information.[/action:31psxs1h]

[npc name=Dorian:31psxs1h]"I...impossible! H-how? Who are you. Why are you doing this."[/npc:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]The man slowly bent into the darkness - clapping a hand on Dorians shoulder. Striped hair, pointed teeth, golden skin greeted Dorians eyes - an alien.[/action:31psxs1h]

[npc name=Dante:31psxs1h]"My Names Dante Deveaux. And I see strength in you Dorian."[/npc:31psxs1h]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[quote="Galdaart Fel":31psxs1h]Crew report to the bridge. Crew to the bridge... five minutes to sublight.[/quote:31psxs1h]

[narration:31psxs1h]The Captains voice startled Dante out of his uneasy sleep, and defensively he brought his sword up to hack at an enemy. But none existed - none but the nightmares in his dreams.[/narration:31psxs1h]

[action:31psxs1h]Standing, Dante sheathed his sword and stretched his hand - having been clenching them during his sleep. He checked himself over...his clothes were rumpled. Disdain for his current state made his lip curl - something that no matter how removed he was from the Court, he would always hold. But, for now, he would have to make do. Shaking his wrist out, he walked over to one of the medicine cabinets, and taking out a pair of foreceps, and walking into the med suites refresher and closing the door, started unbuttoning his layers of shirts. Under the shirts, athletically muscled golden skin - a harsh contrast to the blue paint that stained his limbs and face - was marred by several strips of cloth. It was the bane of a fast healing factor - wounds tended to close up around what the body wasn't able to push out. Taking the forceps, Dante slowly pulled out the cloth from his wounds, and fed it to the waste disposal unit. Buttoning his shirts back up, Dante made sure he was presentable - running water through his hair and across his face to freshen up, even using the fresher briefly for more personal needs. When he was ready, he exited the fresher and disinfected the forceps..and then spent several minutes making sure none of his blood - being red instead of omwati blue - was lying around anywhere. When he was satisfied, he squared away his gear - his sword on his left hip, his blaster on his right, his gauntlet tight, his PDA charged. Nodding to himself, he inspected the medical cabinets contents a little more closely, looking for a light solvent suitable for use on flesh...[/action:31psxs1h]

It wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót Fel├óÔé¼Ôäós voice that woke her up, though she dimly registered it. It was the sharp pain slicing through the palm of her hand.

Malora kicked and scrambled and rolled around on the bunk until she├óÔé¼Ôäód untangled herself from the thin sheets. Her boots hit the metal flooring, dark hair swinging in front of her face as she stood and opened her tightly clenched fist with a wince. There was a tiny sliver of a cut engraved in the flesh of her palm where the metal edges of the datachip had pressed against her hand during her sleeping deathgrip. Confusion took her momentarily. What? How the hell did this come out? Did├óÔé¼┬ªoh. Ohhh, right. Everything that had happened flooded back into her waking mind. She├óÔé¼Ôäód cut the disc from her arm and spilled every bean to Fel. Dazac was dead. Revette was not dead. Wade was Galen├óÔé¼Ôäós captive. Jekk had attacked. Ninety percent of the chaotic evil they├óÔé¼Ôäód just encountered had been her fault. Malora waited for the rush of despair and gripping sorrow she├óÔé¼Ôäód felt not hours ago. Acute loss, burning hatred, venomous and all-consuming.

It never came.

Proper sleep works miracles.

That├óÔé¼Ôäós not to say she didn├óÔé¼Ôäót feel anything about the situation anymore. She├óÔé¼Ôäód spent years glued to the hip at Dazac├óÔé¼Ôäós side, backing him up, keeping him safe, and watching him do the same for her. They'd depended on each other, and each other only. Malora was nowhere near getting over that kind of loss. But what she did feel was now tolerable, a right less of an unbearable doomsday depression and more of a raw, uncomfortable determination to keep going. To put things right. Dazac would be buried proper-like. Wade would be found. Galen would be put down. Life would go on, as unpredictable and as challenging as ever. It would go on.

For the first time in months, Malora felt a little more like Malora. Her eye caught the small, crooked smudgy mirror plastered hastily next to a stack of lockers in the corner of the berth. ├óÔé¼┼ôYeah,├óÔé¼┬Ø she said to herself, rubbing at the lovely dusting of dirt on her cheeks. She flicked a persistently falling strand of hair as it fell over her eyes again. ├óÔé¼┼ôAttractively unkempt, been to hell and didn├óÔé¼Ôäót think much of it, second to none reputation, durable as heck, altogether fabulously tricky.├óÔé¼┬Ø Malora pulled back the bandages on her forearm and unceremoniously stuffed the datachip back into the gash. She secured the wrappings again and tried on a wink and a smirk in the mirror. It almost hid the grave, troubled, ├óÔé¼╦£dealing-with-things-I-don├óÔé¼Ôäót-know-how-to-deal-with├óÔé¼Ôäó expression that lurked beneath the cocky smuggler├óÔé¼Ôäós mask. Almost. ├óÔé¼┼ôHuh. Gotta work on that again,├óÔé¼┬Ø she muttered as Fel├óÔé¼Ôäós voice crackled over the speakers again, gently prodding.

Time to mosey.

Leaving the berth, Malora opened the door, pulling her over her arms. The snoring was the only warning, but it came just in time to stop her from falling over Mack Revette├óÔé¼Ôäós legs. She halted, staring down at the gunslinger, stretched out as comfortable as ever in front of the door. Half a million thoughts engulfed her mind, things she wanted to say to him, things she needed to say to him, things she could not address right now. The bridge was waiting. So Malora turned, scrabbled through every drawer in the small berth until she found an ancient metallic folder and an almost empty tube of orange lipstick. Something that looked suspiciously like the symbol of the Jedi was stamped on the outside of the folder. Malora turned it over and hastily scrawled the words 'Family meeting on the bridge. Stay here!! Talk soon. ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ ├óÔé¼╦£lora' with the lipstick on the back. She tucked the folder next to Mack, valiantly resisting the urge to stare at him longer, and half ran through the hallways on her way to the bridge.

A few minutes later, Malora plodded onto the bridge, all grime and shabby leather. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo we need food,├óÔé¼┬Ø she announced to no one in particular, tossing a half-smile at Liya and giving Jace a mock salute. ├óÔé¼┼ôOr maybe we have it, and I just can├óÔé¼Ôäót find it, but the protein bar said ├óÔé¼╦£Banana Beef├óÔé¼Ôäó, and I├óÔé¼Ôäód just as soon lick Wrench and Scrappy clean after a long day in the grease pits than eat another one o├óÔé¼Ôäó those things.├óÔé¼┬Ø She stepped over towards Fel and crossed her arms, leaning her lower back against a pylon, and looked at her friends. Malora cocked an eyebrow in amused observation, noting all the shiny clean faces and wet hair. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe goin├óÔé¼Ôäó somewhere pretty or are the showers on this boat just that awesome? Embrace your inner dirty smuggler, c├óÔé¼Ôäómon, guys. Now I feel left out. ├óÔé¼┬ªActually, where ARE we going? I was asleep for that part.├óÔé¼┬Ø

Six hours in hyperspace and not a single minute of sleep. Every time Daniel closed his eyes all he could see was the living nightmare that they had encountered on Coruscant and what could have happened to him and the people he now traveled with. It was terrifying to think about and so he 'read' his books from memory and jotted notes on a some scraps of paper for the entire trip, which was difficult considering his glasses were broken. And so for that entire six hours the doctor sat reclined in his reading and writing with his legs propped up on the back of the chair in front of him.

And then he heard Captain Fel's call. He debated going to the meeting, but he wasn't was pretty certain that he wasn't considered a part of the crew so he remained where he was. Though he did stand up to stretch his legs, and his back. Sitting in that position all night put quite a kink in it. He put both of his hands on his lower back and bent back then forward then twisted side to side, each time he heard popping and it felt great. And now that he was up he could check to see if he could find himself some caf.

He walked back toward the lounge hoping he might find some there and maybe some food, but as he walked he heard noises coming from the med center and he stopped to look in. It was his employer looking over medical supplies which amused Daniel slightly considering he still didn't even know this man's name. He stepped in and cleared his throat before smiling, "So you're a mystery employer, a swordsman, and now a doctor too? You're chalked full of surprises." His curiosity got the better of him, which it did frequently being a man of education and history, "So I was told what I'm supposed to find, I know the legend and where to start looking, but what I was never told was why we're looking for something that has only been theorized to exist." By Daniel no less. And knew better than to think it was for something educational or to discover the historic artifact to place where it belongs, in a museum. But the thing that made him most curious was the fact that in all of his years of studying history and exploring ancient cultures no one has ever come to an archaeologist to pay them to find something. In fact it was always quite the opposite, archaeologists searched for people to fund their expeditions. And considering that most people thought Daniel was crazy for searching for this item in the first place because he was the only person to ever find any evidence of its existence.

[narration:vyb3eq6o]He was...anxious. Despite the calculating exterior (and interior for that matter) Dante wasn't without emotion - simply, he acknowledged his emotions, his issues, and moved past them when able. The fact that he was now nervously checking the labels of bottles to pass the time , disturbed him far more than his dreams[/narration:vyb3eq6o]

"Am I doomed ever to be haunted?" [action:vyb3eq6o]He asked aloud to no one in particular.[/action:vyb3eq6o]

[narration:vyb3eq6o]Inwardly though - he knew the source of his agitation; the absence of surety, of resolve. In the face of his madness, his ability to maintain this...charade...was slowly withering away. How many years had he worn the mask, the disguise? And always with medication on hand. Now...now things were different; his plan was nearing fruition, his five years of plotting, manipulating, of carefully positioning the pieces - finally, was coalescing into the final act.[/narration:vyb3eq6o]

"[i:vyb3eq6o]Retribution[/i:vyb3eq6o]." [action:vyb3eq6o]He whispered under his breath.[/action:vyb3eq6o]

[narration:vyb3eq6o]Aye...plans within plans...plots within plots. Those onboard were wary of him - but no more than any newcomer to their home. No, they were wary; but not for the right reasons. They didn't suspect - couldn't suspect - the sins and secrets of the man they ferried. These people, they had their own sins to be sure, pasts they regretted, lives taken and lost, but all acted within that sanctimonious moral code that justified their wrongs...they didn't take life rampantly, not without gain. They didn't torture, pillage, kill with abandon. Not without reason. But therein lie the problem, for the man they ferried would do all those things; commit the most atrocious acts, sow the worst of sins, and would reap sorrow and hate amongst their ranks. The critical difference though, for on errant inspection, Dante's and the crews motives appeared similar; the dividing line in the sand was that Dante hadn't committed the sin for which he had to atone. Not yet.

And for that, he was far more dangerous than those aboard suspected.[/narration:vyb3eq6o]

[action:vyb3eq6o]Someone cleared their throat - a man from the sound of it - and Dante turned around to regard the newcomer. Ah, the Scholar, rumpled clothing and exhausted looking. It seemed the man hadn't had any sleep, and inwardly Dante shook his head. First combat situations were the hardest - for Dante, it had been no exception so many years ago. Dismissing the man, Dante turned back to the cabinets. The dismissal would seem rude of him, even anti-social; but the root of the behavior was fear. Aye, fear. The man was learned...far too learned. For if there was anyone on board that would be able to pierce his disguise, it would be the scholar.[/action:vyb3eq6o]

[quote="Daniel Logan":vyb3eq6o][color=#00BF00:vyb3eq6o]"So you're a mystery employer, a swordsman, and now a doctor too? You're chalked full of surprises."[/color:vyb3eq6o][/quote:vyb3eq6o]
[narration:vyb3eq6o]An honest, wondering statement; far too open for Dante's liking. If he didn't know better, he would of thought he was being baited by a male version of the female patient he had earlier.[/narration:vyb3eq6o]

"...I really need to get her name."

[action:vyb3eq6o]A blink, and a glance of his shoulder - an acknowledgement to the mans presence. The man, after all, would be working with them for a while...and if it would calm the nerve stricken sentient, then he would oblige. Even if he was human. Filthy creatures.[/action:vyb3eq6o]

"More to the order of professional [i:vyb3eq6o]duelist[/i:vyb3eq6o]; upon following injuries of that profession it was necessary for me to take up medicine. The enigma of your employment is a separate matter entirely - unique to this current situation." [action:vyb3eq6o]Replied Dante, as he rummaged through more bottles. Picking up a light acid supposedly for adhesive surgical adhesive removal, Dante pocketed the vial; It might just do the trick in the future.[/action:vyb3eq6o]

[quote="Daniel Logan":vyb3eq6o][color=#00BF00:vyb3eq6o]"So I was told what I'm supposed to find, I know the legend and where to start looking, but what I was never told was why we're looking for something that has only been theorized to exist."[/color:vyb3eq6o][/quote:vyb3eq6o]
[narration:vyb3eq6o]Dante contemplated constructing a lie for the man; he obviously wasn't built to handle the truth, not like how the others were. This was a scholar, not a warrior. Despite though, Dante had a certain respect for the man - he himself being a polymath, he could understand the mans curiosity.[/narration:vyb3eq6o]

[action:vyb3eq6o]A pause, a quirk of the lips. Turning, Dante leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms.[/action:vyb3eq6o]

"More we're looking because it's theorized to begin with. As I'm sure you know, the item in question is a force artifact...contained on its surface are scripts, runes, and other markings; [i:vyb3eq6o]worldly[/i:vyb3eq6o] markings. It is what lies [i:vyb3eq6o]within[/i:vyb3eq6o] it though that is infinitely more valuable though; knowledge, knowledge embedded in the force signature of the artifact. Echoes, of ancient secrets. It is this secret that the Syndicate wishes to obtain - so that they may use it to their own devices and purposes."

[action:vyb3eq6o]The answer came easily; and was more or less the truth. As he spoke, Dante pulled out a hypo syringe, and plunging it into a bottle of lecepanine, drew the plunger up to its fullest. Putting the cap back onto the needle, he flicked a plastic tab to lock the plunger in place, and then placed the hypo in his jacket pocket. You never knew.[/action:vyb3eq6o]

"So you've read my research then?" A rhetorical question of course, Daniel had been the only one to publish anything on the Eye of Ono Kli, but had since given up on finding it since no one believed that it existed or even could exist given it's unique properties, and thus no one was willing to fund the expedition until now. Daniel however was a true believer, and his desire to find this object and his belief that he could had always been there even when his critics had so unanimously called him down saying there was no room in modern archeology for chasing myths and fairy tales. Daniel believed otherwise, knowing that these so called myths and fairy tales came from a source, some of which had yet to be discovered.

Stepping toward the sink opposite Dante he ponders momentarily on the situation that his employer has laid out, "The Eye of Ono Kli is said to hold the entire knowledge bank of the Baran Do. I know all about it." He turns on the water and begins to wash his hands as he continues on, "Six years ago I was at a dig site on Pamorjal when I found an ancient computer hidden in an unexplored part of one of the Temples of Vormijj, this computer chronicled the existence of a device of amazing power, but the files were incomplete. The computer had been damaged by some debris fallen from above and I assume that was the cause of the file corruption but I can't be certain." He bent down and washed his face, making sure to get the sleep out of his eyes and hopefully wake himself up a little more, "And that was the only information that has been found to my knowledge other than some possible leads that turned up while I was investigating, of course it was a closely guarded secret of the Baran Do so I'm not entirely sure how the information ended up there." He grabbed a towel and dried his hands and face feeling a bit more refreshed than he had previously. "But the computer was destroyed in a collapse and with it all of the information on the Eye, other than what I've published of course, you can find most of that in your library's fiction section." There was a point to all of this that Daniel was getting to and he would make it clear to Dante in a moment, but first he wanted to let this information sink in.

The doctor threw his towel in the sink then turned to look at his employer with a quizzical expression on his face as he leaned on the sink behind him, "So I guess my question is this, why would a well known criminal organization be looking for something that I have been ridiculed, mocked, and discredited for believing it exists? Furthermore, why are the very people that I asked for funding for the past six years and denied funding, now throwing more money than I originally asked for at this expedition?" The only logical explanation that Daniel could come up with was that someone had found something else, something a little more compelling that they needed to fund this treasure hunt, but the only thing Daniel couldn't figure out is that if that were the case then why wasn't he told of about any of it prior to now? And what exactly was found? Questions not voiced but implied and questions that he wanted answers to.

*Silently, Dante listened to the man talk, occasionally nodding at Daniel's comments. Inwardly, Dante filed some of the information away - while Dante had not read the exact research papers in question par say, he HAD read a briefing on the subject. Certain names, such as this "Eye of Ono Kli", were unfamiliar to him, though, easy enough to piece together. At Daniel├óÔé¼Ôäós question, Dante only shook his head.*

├óÔé¼┼ôYour far too inquisitive. It will get you killed.├óÔé¼┬Ø

*Quite right - the man was hired as a specialist...not to ask questions and seek answers. He was delving into realms and circles that many would kill over, and some, that would torture him for the specifics of. It didn├óÔé¼Ôäót help that Dante was still directly responsible for the man ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ if he died, then they would be extremely delayed in their search to find the artifact. Far too delayed than they were able, the Strahl would undoubtedly find the artifact first. If it caused the man to seek answers elsewhere though...better to have him sated.*

*Irritation. A sigh. Crossing his arms, Dante addressed the questions ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ albeit grudgingly.*

├óÔé¼┼ôIn honesty...? The Syndicate found something, something tangible enough that they├óÔé¼Ôäóve halted their expansion in the underworld ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the very heart of their financial campaign ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ to amass their forces to gather the artifact. As for them being well known? They├óÔé¼Ôäóre not. Beyond the underworld, very few have heard of them...and no doubt they want it to stay that way. Do not speak of them flippantly. As for your funding, if the Strahl; the sentient eating manhunter that leads a multi billion credit organization, the sole military commander of thousands of military units scattered across the underworld, and a devious sentient who has plans for rising up an army to take over coruscant...if HE thinks this item is worth diverting all of his resources towards, then lets just say we├óÔé¼Ôäóre worried, and adjusting our plans accordingly."

*Fel had turned the pilots' seat around, so that it faced the door to the flight deck -- the grey-blue swirl of hyperspace casting eerie, underwater-esque light cascading into the room and playing over every surface. He rested elbows on knees as Liya entered, followed closely by Jace. Both looked refreshed and eager. Fel greeted them both with a grin and a nod. It wasn't often they had the luxury of a briefing like this... more often than not they were thrust into whatever situation presented itself. This time, Fel was planning for the worst, but hopeful it wouldn't turn out that way.

A moment or two later, and Malora breezed in, all bluster and wordstuff. She certainly wasn't as clean as the rest of them, but she certainly seemed more herself. The pilot took it to be a good sign, and called for their attention.*

Alright... *pause* Good morning. Let's talk about what's to come, and what we've discovered so far. First: your questions. Regarding our destination, the short answer is we're headed for Dorin, which is the first stop of what I assume is many in tracking down whatever item our employer is seeking. *looking over at Jace, reclining in the corner by the door* But you're right Jace -- we're making a pit-stop. I introduced myself to one of our 'guests,' Seros Darklighter, who popped up on my radar dressed like a Jedi. He seems to want to make himself useful -- mentioned running with Wade on Coruscant. He offered up coordinates for a service station that would see to the UA and our droids cheap and fast. *hands held up in defense* Don't worry -- I did my homework, there's no way I was jumping into the unknown. He passed the test... so far. *Fel turns in his chair, cuts in the sublight engines. Real-space fills the viewport: a distant asteroid field.* We're back at the Smuggler's Run. His coordinates were in this sector, so I don't know if it's a yard on one of the Skips, or a carrier ship in this quadrant. Either way -- if his story checks out, it wasn't a jump too far out of our way. Not just anybody has the coordinates to the 'Run, either. And if his story doesn't check out... it's still not a complete waste of our time. *looking to Liya* If his story is bogus and there's no shipyard, we can always trade off the UA for the Bronze Star.

*Scrapheap twittered a series of Binary, and Fel saw a glimmer behind the eyes of Liya, smiled at her obvious happiness. It was a minor thing, but he'd take it. They needed something to smile about.*

Been thinkin' about that. Even if we can repair the UA, I think this bird can tether a third to the substructure. Might be we can bring the 'Star with us. We'll have to look into that further. *redressing the entire group* So... the job. I'm sure you've all met our 'employer' by this point. I still don't have the rodder's name, fireblast it. Been callin' him 'Mister' since the Underworld. Anyways. The deal is, we're searching for an artifact. Might be a longshot, likely high stakes, as there are other interested parties, no doubt. We got an ace up our sleeve by way of a scientist, Daniel Logan, who's done a fair bit of study on the item. He's the guide. He gave us Dorin as our first hop. Scrappy has been researching the location.

*Fel Paused for questions, and to let the info sink in.*

I'd like to hear from all of you: who you've met from our roster of civvies below, what you might know that I haven't figured out yet -- anything about our employer or the location. *another pause, as the spacer plans out the next step* Plan of action: I'd like a group to take the ME down to Skip One, stock up on supplies and provisions, and retrieve the Bronze Star. Liya, I'm thinking you and Sam, mebbe Neph, in case there's any trouble with yer bird? I leave it up to you. Jace, I need you and Malora to determine threat levels from everyone aboard. Everyone. That includes Mack, our employer and Daniel. I'm going to suss out this 'Darklighter' and his supposed contact here in-system. *pause*

Questions? Now's the time...

[quote="Dante Deveaux":36i4nm04]├óÔé¼┼ôYour far too inquisitive. It will get you killed.├óÔé¼┬Ø[/quote:36i4nm04]
Most people may take that as a threat or warning, Daniel took it as a compliment and smiled accordingly, [color=#00BF00:36i4nm04]"I'm a scientist, inquisition is in my job description,"[/color:36i4nm04] he shrugged as another point popped into his head, [color=#00BF00:36i4nm04]"it's in my personality too I suppose."[/color:36i4nm04] He said musing, he could tell that Dante was getting quite irritated with the sigh and crossing of his arms, but Daniel persisted in waiting for answers to his questions.

[quote="Dante Deveaux":36i4nm04]├óÔé¼┼ôIn honesty...? The Syndicate found something, something tangible enough that they├óÔé¼Ôäóve halted their expansion in the underworld ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the very heart of their financial campaign ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ to amass their forces to gather the artifact. As for them being well known? They├óÔé¼Ôäóre not. Beyond the underworld, very few have heard of them...and no doubt they want it to stay that way. Do not speak of them flippantly. As for your funding, if the Strahl; the sentient eating manhunter that leads a multi billion credit organization, the sole military commander of thousands of military units scattered across the underworld, and a devious sentient who has plans for rising up an army to take over coruscant...if HE thinks this item is worth diverting all of his resources towards, then lets just say we├óÔé¼Ôäóre worried, and adjusting our plans accordingly."[/quote:36i4nm04]
And answers he got, and he was surprisingly satisfied with the answers given and simply nods that he understands, [color=#00BF00:36i4nm04]"Thank you."[/color:36i4nm04] He had more to say but decided not to voice it, but it was along the lines of honesty and openness were the best route when speaking among allies and friends, however Dante's irritation was quite evident and he didn't want to push it, but he had to ask at least one more question, though hesitantly, [color=#00BF00:36i4nm04]"So, you- I mean I- They- No wait-"[/color:36i4nm04] He took a moment and a deep breath,[color=#00BF00:36i4nm04]"So since we're going to be working together, what's your name? Or at least what should I call you?"[/color:36i4nm04] An odd question to be asking the person you're already working for, or at least it was in Daniel's mind.

*Dorin. Dorin. Another planet I'd never visited. I'd barely ever heard the name before. Of course, it was never that simple. We needed to get patched up first. I smiled when the Run was mentioned, both because of what I had left behind on our previous visit, and the irony of our guest having provided such a familiar location. Of course, it could all still be an ambush, but at least we knew our way around the place. That could prove invaluable.*

*As Fel finished speaking, I glanced down, staring intently at a spot on the spotless deck about a foot and a half in front of my left big toe. Back in the Run, eh? I definitely should check in on the Bronze Star while we were here, and make sure her disguise as a contaminated derelict was intact. But as much as I loved that ship, I had an awful lot else on my mind. Fel wanted information? I had it by the kilo, as well as the discoveries I had made during the night.*

*My eyes lit up as Fel mentioned the Bronze Star, and Scrappy exclaimed loudly in binary. Tethering. Yes, that would certainly work. On a ship as large as the Loronar, the exterior hull would be large enough and strong enough to bear the extra weight. But back to the job at hand. The artifact. The Syndicate. My own datacard mystery, which might or might not be related. And I had learned a few things about our employer, about Wade's friend Sky, and about Darklighter, who was still a mysterious third party. But where to start?*

"Just give me a list of supplies and some creds, Captain, and we'll make sure we get them." *The Bronze Star hadn't been left here long enough for anything to have gone wrong with her maintanence. She'd either be just as flyable as when I'd left, or she'd have been picked clean by vultures. There wouldn't be a middle ground where a mechanic was needed. But if Neph wanted to go along, it couldn't hurt. We might want at least one more person, as well, to help carry supplies.* "I'll try not to get shot this time. Do you want me to take one of Wade's friends along, too? Could be a chance for them to help pay their fare."

*I stopped. It was probably a good idea to get to my new problem as soon as possible, which meant ...* "Our employer is an interesting one. He's very guarded about anything not related to our mission, like his name or species, but when I asked about matters related to our mission, he rather suddenly opened up and told me a lot more than I expected to hear. He clearly understands teamwork. He does seem to have a very analytical mind --- it took him about a minute to figure out my previous profession --- and he's genuinely knowledgeable about anatomy and medicine. He recited some sort of ritual song or prayer before he went to bed, in which he mentioned Stava and Teräs Käsi, although I didn't recognize the language. I would guess he's a pretty good fighter even without his sword."

*Another pause.* "Last night on Coruscant, I got caught up in a fight between two competing street gangs and the police. One of the gangs involved was the same Syndicate that's chasing after our artifact, and Mr. Nameless got very interested when I mentioned it. He even showed me a holomap of their territory in the underworld, which I made sure to memorize." *I reached into my side pocket, and drew out the datacards.* "After the fight was over, I found these on the remains of a dead policeman who I believe was working for the Syndicate. I've been able to read all but one of them, and there's nothing here that ties them to our job, except the possible link to the Syndicate."

*I raised my left index finger in the air.* "But! I did discover something else, which is more disturbing for me personally. The four I read contain intimate profiles of about 40 martial arts experts with exploitable holes in their personality or background. They're either targets, or aliases, but they're apparently real people, because one of them is an old mentor of mine back on Palawa, Kim Zawadi." I glanced slowly around the room, a troubled look coming into my face. "I need to figure out why she's being targeted. This last card." *I held it up.* "should hold the answer, but it's encrypted." *That wasn't nearly everything I had to report, but I stopped, waiting for Fel to respond.*

*The quiet alert tone beeped again, stirring her. Kaali's silver-gray eyes slowly opened, focusing on the flashing light on her console. She unfolded her hands from behind her head and stretched, then kicked her boots off of the control panel in order to check the alert that was informing her of the asteroid belt she was approaching, and where the Loronar was.

She spit a vile curse from her tongue, because the transport she had been tailing was no longer in hyperspace. She hurried through the safety checks before slowing her own freighter to fall out of the hyper run, then pulled it around back towards the asteroid belt. Smuggler's Run, just as Seros had said. She scanned the surrounding space for the distinctive ionic trail that would identify the Loronar, then sighed in relief as her systems picked up on it. Still there. Gradually, she was able to sense Seros' presence again. It was strange. She had never experienced such a strong connection in the Force that could enable her to navigate an unfamiliar territory in the galaxy just by following it. She murmured quietly to herself.*

"Okay, let's get a closer look at this thing."

*The Loronar grew larger in her viewport as the 'Serendipity' neared it. She skimmed close over the dorsal section of the hull, then swung around for another pass. Though the transport dwarfed her own ship in size, it was woefully under-equipped, as she spotted only two turrets. It was no wonder the heap was so beat up. However, the shielding she picked up on seemed strong enough, and her scanners told her nothing of what fighters might be sitting idle in the transport's docking bay.

This close to his ship, Seros' presence was almost overwhelming in its strength. She realized he must be extremely focused, projecting himself outward as far as it could reach for her mind to follow. But why? The corners of her mouth tugged downward. Why would he exhaust himself this way just to try and pull her towards him? Perhaps for the same, enigmatic reason she continued to follow him.

Her scowl darkened as another alert sounded, the bright yellow bulb lighting up on the console above her. The power cells and fuel of the 'Serendipity' were running on empty, and one of her engines was giving her trouble again. She'd gone too long without resupplying, having been obsessed with trailing after this transport. The engines hummed as she turned the vessel about, the swift freighter pulling far ahead of the Loronar. Her mind brushed against Seros', her thoughts gently touching against his through their connection.*

<< Try to rest, I can feel your fatigue. I will not be far. >>

*The 'Serendipity continued towards its destination: the station located on the primary asteroid, Skip One, where Kaali expected it to be yet another typical expedition of refueling and securing supplies. She should have known better than to expect anything less than trouble.*

[action:16t83w8v]Jace nodded to Liya and gave her a smile as she came in.[/action:16t83w8v] "Good morning, Liya." [narration:16t83w8v]It seemed that she had showered and ready to go as well. It was nice to see Liya in a better condition than she had previously been in. The last time he had seen her was in this very cockpit (which was covered with his own blood then), and she had looked worse off than he had been. Now that he thought about it, she wasn't even with them. And the burns she had were not inflicted by the Jekk, or at least the ones that they had come across. He'd have to inquire about it later.[/narration:16t83w8v]

[quote="Karana Malora":16t83w8v][size=85:16t83w8v]A few minutes later, Malora plodded onto the bridge, all grime and shabby leather. [color=#00BFFF:16t83w8v]├óÔé¼┼ôSo we need food,├óÔé¼┬Ø[/color:16t83w8v] she announced to no one in particular, tossing a half-smile at Liya and giving Jace a mock salute. [color=#00BFFF:16t83w8v]├óÔé¼┼ôOr maybe we have it, and I just can├óÔé¼Ôäót find it, but the protein bar said ├óÔé¼╦£Banana Beef├óÔé¼Ôäó, and I├óÔé¼Ôäód just as soon lick Wrench and Scrappy clean after a long day in the grease pits than eat another one o├óÔé¼Ôäó those things.├óÔé¼┬Ø[/color:16t83w8v] She stepped over towards Fel and crossed her arms, leaning her lower back against a pylon, and looked at her friends. Malora cocked an eyebrow in amused observation, noting all the shiny clean faces and wet hair. [/size:16t83w8v][/quote:16t83w8v]

[narration:16t83w8v]Jace smirked as Karana came in, returning the mock salute. It was also good to see her back in spirit, despite the recent losses. From what he knew, she knew both Dazac and Wade longer than any of them. He wondered what was going through her head other than the lack of food. Her remark about the 'Banana Beef' brought back memories of when he had to eat it while out on patrol in the woods of Balkadan. It tasted just as good as banana smeared on beef would. Those droids wouldn't be a bad alternative.[/narration:16t83w8v] "There should be something along the lines of edible rations in the pantry, where ever that is. I had some friends restock the kitchen when they tuned and refueled this beast." [narration:16t83w8v]Or at least they should have. He'd have a report on them if they didn't give them [i:16t83w8v]food[/i:16t83w8v].

Jace turned his attention as their captain spoke up, at first on him but then to those around him. It was just himself, the captain, Liya and Malora. While he knew Neph and the couple were elsewhere in the ship, that didn't take from the fact that their numbers were dwindling. They had lost two of their own on the last two planets, which was pretty bad considering how small the crew was. Maybe this new batch of strange denizens will find a place on this ship and carve out a living with them.

Maybe.

But that would come later, and he needed to concentrate on what needed to be done now. It seemed that they had made their way back to the Skip for supplies and repairs. While most of the original crew would be out and about, him and Karana would be compiling a list of their newcomers. He had a good idea as to what some of them would have on their profiles already, but those would need refining in addition to adding in others. One person in particular was Seros, but he'd have to wait until he got back with Fel. Jace wanted to personally figure out who he was and what type of connection he had with the Force. If he was a threat, he was sure that Sam wouldn't have let him aboard. But at the same time he didn't know what their view was on those who tread along the darker paths of the Force. That was something he'd have to get around to later.

Jace turned his attention to Liya as she went on about Dante, nodding his head slowly and looking to the floor. Fel must have forgotten what he had told him back in the bar on Coruscant. Although thinking back to it, he couldn't blame him. He was practically interrupted by the attack. Come to think of it he could hardly remember what he had told the captain, but that was probably from the bump on the head he had acquired. Looking up to the three, he straightened his back sighed and lightly.[/narration:16t83w8v] "I'll agree with Liya, our employer [i:16t83w8v]is[/i:16t83w8v] interesting... His name is Dante Demici, an ex-count of a royal family. Liya nailed a good deal on him: analytical, knowledge of the medical field, team player. A bit on the spiritual side, but only enough that'd be considered healthy. And a damn good fighter, [i:16t83w8v]especially[/i:16t83w8v] with the sword... "

[narration:16t83w8v]Jace paused for a moment as he thought about what he and Dante had talked about before joining up with the rest of the crew, back on Coruscant.[/narration:16t83w8v] "... I used to work with him back in the day."

[narration:16t83w8v]Turning to Liya, he gestured to the datapads that she was holding. Everything that she had said was very interesting, and he was sure to remember it for later. If Dante had shown any interest in it that would probably mean he had some sort of dealings with them, but he wasn't sure what. And seeing how he had shown not just some interest but some genuine knowledge about it all, then he definitely has been up to something. This might be what he's been up to for the past few years. Another thing to follow up on later.[/narration:16t83w8v] "I can get that decrypted for you when we get to Dorin if you'd like." [action:16t83w8v]He looked to Fel and Karana.[/action:16t83w8v] I've got a few friends bringing up all of Daniel's supplies that he'll need for getting us whatever we are looking for. They'll be able to crack whatever is on that datapad. As well as possibly help us on Dorin. Which reminds me, Dorin is the Kel Dor's homeworld. We'll need some very basic oxygen masks for their environment. We can stand an hour or two without them and not suffer any ill effects, but prolonged exposure might start to take a toll."

Malora listened intently to her friends as they laid it all on the table, more intently than she'd usually listen during group meetings. Most of the time, she only paid proper attention to the bits applying directly to her, not out of arrogance or indifference, but because she├óÔé¼Ôäód spent a very long time (before Dazac came along) looking out for herself, only herself, and old habits were hard to break. But the trouble maker had missed one hundred percent of everything since Ryloth, new passengers included, so this was important.

The word ├óÔé¼╦£artifact├óÔé¼Ôäó stuck in her ears. Malora had done quite a bit of artifact hunting for Galen back in the days. By no means was she anywhere near an expert, but her uncanny sense of self preservation, her ability to adapt quickly to situations, and her smugglers luck made her his ideal candidate. Many times she├óÔé¼Ôäód begin the hunt with a score of soldiers for backup, and end up coming out of the dust and gore alone, holding the prize. Back then, the waste of life hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót bothered her. They were just soldiers. Nameless faceplates. She would shrug. Sithspit was easier when all you had to worry about was your own choobies anyway.

Probably still true. Having a crew, having friends and people that cared├óÔé¼┬ª It made living in this chaotic galaxy far more difficult. Easier to be alone. Only thing that can hurt you then is yourself. No one to worry about. Friends made you vulnerable.
They also made you stronger. More resilient. Made the chaotic galaxy easier to endure.
This made no kriffin├óÔé¼Ôäó sense in Malora├óÔé¼Ôäós mind, though she knew both thoughts were true, and as she usually did with anything she couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót figure, glossed over it and focused on the concrete world again. It wasn't her job to puzzle the mysteries of the universe, not now and not ever.

Jace and Liya had fallen quiet, and the group waited politely, as if expecting her to say something equally helpful. Fel DID say he wanted to hear from everyone. ├óÔé¼┼ôOh. Uhh, lemme see,├óÔé¼┬Ø said the smuggler, pursing her lips and looking thoughtfully at the floor. There was a smart pause. ├óÔé¼┼ô├óÔé¼┬ª├óÔé¼┬ªYeah, I got nothin├óÔé¼Ôäó,├óÔé¼┬Ø she said, pushing off from her leaning position against the pylon and stretching carelessly. ├óÔé¼┼ôYet. Nothin├óÔé¼Ôäó YET, I mean. Haven├óÔé¼Ôäót even met the passengers, which is somethin├óÔé¼Ôäó I├óÔé¼Ôäóm gonna remedy after our pow-wow. Don├óÔé¼Ôäót know jack about artifacts, but I know a thing or three about extracting them. Avoiding and escaping traps, figuring puzzles, blasting lurking monsters into dust├óÔé¼┬ª├óÔé¼┬Ø She cocked her head. ├óÔé¼┼ôJust call me Indirana Joans. But I├óÔé¼Ôäóll take it up with this Daniel dude. And THIS guy,├óÔé¼┬Ø Malora grinned, strolling behind Jace├óÔé¼Ôäós chair and drumming her hands gently on his head, ├óÔé¼┼ôthis guy right here. We will go pick the passenger├óÔé¼Ôäós brains while Liya and co. are out shopping and see who is crazy and who isn├óÔé¼Ôäót. Make a list and check it twice. We├óÔé¼Ôäóll totally find out who├óÔé¼Ôäós naughty and nice."

[narration:1hwhp6wr]Fel sat uncomfortably in the Loronar's pilots' seat. It wasn't anywhere nearly as inviting or familiar as the threadbare chair aboard the UA. Adjusting his position in the chair slightly, trying to find a place where he could slouch without having his elbow come into contact with a hard, offensive bit of metal where arm met seat-back, Fel was reminded yet again just how stellar his crew was. He had requested information, and was now rewarded with a nearly endless supply.[/narration:1hwhp6wr]

Ok... so we've got some intel on our employer, Dante. This is all good, useful stuff... but I want more. [action:1hwhp6wr]indicating Malora and Jace[/action:1hwhp6wr] I need to know what his angle is in this 'artifact' chase. I can't believe that the drive is merely to keep it out of one crime organization's hands and hand it over to another. He's got to have a sheet somewhere... homeworld, mebbe. If he's got a past, we need to know about it. Gives us what we need to ensure his past doesn't impact our future. Meantime, we want him happy. [action:1hwhp6wr]passing a small datachip to Liya[/action:1hwhp6wr] Liya, there's a cred-disc. Its got a little over C70,000 on it. I don't have much else. I'll comm you with encryption details. Seems to me Dante had a wish-list of supplies for the med-bay. Might as well make a few of those come true. In addition: food-paks, ammo, det-cord and explosives, harsh weather gear, portable power generators, breath masks, bacta patches, mebbe even a small speeder we can use planetside. I'm relying on this contact of Darklighter for repairs to the UA and the Droids... so for the time being, don't worry about spares for the ships or the 'bots, unless you happen to find a really good deal on R-series casings and servos...

[narration:1hwhp6wr]Fel paused, lost in thought for a moment, before shaking his head clear and continuing.[/narration:1hwhp6wr]

Thinking about who you ought to take to the Skip with you... you might want to consider Sky. I don't want the Noghri with you -- that could pose problems if things went South. Otherwise, it's up to you -- but I'd prefer it if you had someone else along for the ride. We get Wrench back online, he can decrypt that datachip, too.

[narration:1hwhp6wr]Fel paused again for a moment, the implications of his last phrase sinking in.[/narration:1hwhp6wr]

[quote:1hwhp6wr]...I had some friends restock the kitchen when they tuned and refueled this beast...
...a damn good fighter, especially with the sword...
...I used to work with him back in the day...
...I've got a few friends bringing up all of Daniel's suIpplies... [/quote:1hwhp6wr]

[narration:1hwhp6wr]Jace Stealer had a lot of very timely, very interesting things to say, as he always did. He was a credit to the crew, and in the short time they had been together, he had been the go-to problem solver and level head of the group. But there had always been something to Jace that was one step beyond Fel's reach, and these words stood out to Fel, like an itch he couldn't scratch.[/narration:1hwhp6wr]

Alright folks... let's get it done. I'm going to have a word with Darklighter and get us underway to this repair depot within the hour. Liya, I'll send you location data as soon as I know where we're going.

...Jace? Could you stay a moment?

[narration:1hwhp6wr]Galdaart waited while the others spoke, joked, and made their way out from the bridge, until the door slid shut, and he was alone with Stealer.[/narration:1hwhp6wr]

I think it's time I knew a little more about these 'friends' of yours, Jace. You seem to have 'em stashed all over the 'verse, and while I don't doubt you're a popular--[i:1hwhp6wr]Fierfek[/i:1hwhp6wr]!!

[narration:1hwhp6wr]A single light on the pilot's console lit, accompanying a low, almost-pleasant beeping. Fel immediately whirled the chair to face the panel, fingers flying over the controls. Switches he had never touched before -- screens that had been previously been dormant -- the ship came to life as the spacer cursed himself bitterly.[/narration:1hwhp6wr]

Proximity warning -- we've been overflown. No visual... console's chewing on it. [action:1hwhp6wr]indicating toward the co-pilot's station for Jace to sit[/action:1hwhp6wr] [narration:1hwhp6wr]No reaction from the ident-tracker or IFF had yet registered, and yet Fel knew... just knew. He was half speaking to himself, half to Jace, partly to the unseen ship that had buzzed them, partly to the Loronar.[/narration:1hwhp6wr] Ship's a freighter. Mebbe Mon-Cal... MC-12 I think... we arrive at the 'Run, and I'm not immediately on my guard? Stupid... Remote targeting is possibly the worst I've ever seen on this tug... c'mon baby... [narration:1hwhp6wr]Galdaart accessed the remote targeting system for the ships' two meagre laser cannons. He could smell lubricating oil from the barrels and grease from the rotator mechanisms of the turrets, could feel the cold of the void against his fingertips as he sought the ship.[/narration:1hwhp6wr] There... there she is... [narration:1hwhp6wr]He was staring off, through the viewport, at nothing, at what -- Jace couldn't see.[/narration:1hwhp6wr] Pilot's good... knows this bird's not a runner or a fighter... too far... too far...

[narration:1hwhp6wr]And then he released the control surfaces, and sat heavily back in the pilot's seat. Simultaneously --[/narration:1hwhp6wr]

No shot. [force_speak:1hwhp6wr]No shot.[/force_speak:1hwhp6wr]

[narration:1hwhp6wr]At that moment, the IFF readout in front of Jace spat out the information on their uninvited guest: [color=#FF4000:1hwhp6wr]Class: Lt. Freighter, Mon Cal, MC-18.[/color:1hwhp6wr] Fel's neural link was unplugged. The Loronar didn't have remote targeting...[/narration:1hwhp6wr]

[quote="Daniel Logan":ej5vr3pq][color=#00BF00:ej5vr3pq]"So, you- I mean I- They- No wait-"[/color:ej5vr3pq] He took a moment and a deep breath,[color=#00BF00:ej5vr3pq]"So since we're going to be working together, what's your name? Or at least what should I call you?"[/color:ej5vr3pq] An odd question to be asking the person you're already working for, or at least it was in Daniel's mind.[/quote:ej5vr3pq]

"My name?"

[narration:ej5vr3pq]Did he even know his name anymore? Did it matter? Perhaps. Some - like Jace - called him by the closest thing to his name as possible; Dante Demici. Was that his true name? His heart of hearts? Every Firrerreo had one...a true name; a name in high firrerreo so secret, so integral to a beings nature, that it was guarded with the greatest secrecy. For Firrerreo, names held such power...they imbued the listener with a sense of the nature of the one they named...and thus it gave them power. To hold someones true name, their most private name, was to hold someones soul within your mind. The man before him - and humans in general - tossed about names so flippantly; it was a wonder they had a hierarchy at all.[/narration:ej5vr3pq]

[action:ej5vr3pq]A pause in thoughtfulness, a laugh of dismissal.[/action:ej5vr3pq]

"I have many names."

[narration:ej5vr3pq]So true; Dante Demici, Dante Deveaux, Dante Dulai, Dahnte, Ducard...so many names, so many variants. None of them true - all of them pertinent.[/narration:ej5vr3pq]

"You may call me Dante. Dante the Deceiver."

[action:ej5vr3pq]The irony - a truer name than any previously uttered. Shaking his head, Dante pushed away from the counter, and headed for the exit of the medbay. Calling over his shoulder, he didn't pause in his stride - but rather continued on, disregarding if the man heard him or not.[/action:ej5vr3pq]

"Don't follow me."

-----------------------------------------------------

[action:ej5vr3pq]Walking out of the medbay, Dante paused and shook his head slightly. His conversation with Daniel had brought back a resurgence of old feelings...something that left him in a state of melancholia. He wasn't above such things; despite his calculations and wit, he felt emotion just as acutely as anyone else - albeit, carefully walled up behind as many mental barriers as possible. More and more though, he felt that control...slipping. He was in precarious danger of reverting back into his true self. Something that medication - years, and years of medication - had kept at bay.[/action:ej5vr3pq]

[size=85:ej5vr3pq]"...It's not time yet. No, not time. Soon; soon though."[/size:ej5vr3pq]

[narration:ej5vr3pq]Aye, soon. And as Dante walked down the corridor and into the dining area - thankfully unoccupied - he could only shake his head. Soon, soon he could stop his concentration on suppressing himself, soon he could FINALLY be free. Free of the mask. Free of the...chains.[/narration:ej5vr3pq]

[action:ej5vr3pq]Entering the dining area, Dante reclined in one of the chairs - and after activating his gauntlet, and tuning it to pickup broadband frequencies on a very specific channel, closed his eyes. Soon enough his package would be here. Soon enough it would be time for him to abandon his masks.[/action:ej5vr3pq]

"...Soon."