RPlog:Morganna in Love

Lounge As your eyes adjust to the dimness of this room you notice the soft elegant music playing in the background. The sounds of music and the chatter of people enjoying themselves eases your mind and soul. Little lanterns of lights dot the room in shadows radiating the faces of the people. Large glass windows act as walls separating space from inside. Stars shine bright through the windows adding to the aura of the lounge. The tables are made of thick round glass that reflects the images of the patrons. Each table is complimented with a set of two to four black leather couches. A series of black sofa couches line the perimeter of the windows giving a birds eye view of the wonders of space. Along the back wall under a spotlight of flourescent lights is the bar. Made of elegant mahagony wood the bar runs down the length of the wall with sets of different sized glasses hanging upside down on the ceiling rafters. Decorative banners of the respected Imperial Fleet adorn the back wall of the bar. On the back wall beside the bar there is a little silver sign with the word "PRIVATE" engraved on it. A brass door knob is just noticeable under the dim light. A small series of steps by the window lead up to a second level which contains only a few tables and chairs. It is very hard to actually see if there is someone up there. A sign by the rail reads: Commanders and above. Only exception is 'CPO, SCPO and MCPO'.

(+HELP PLACES for help.) -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Drinking Machine (Out of order)

-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=- Up leads to Senior Officer's Tier. Aft leads to Off Duty Level.

Atrox comes in from the main hallway. Atrox has arrived. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-

Atrox walks into the area, the air currents here gently playing on his flowing black cloak...

Morganna is standing next to one of the large, transparisteel plates, leaning against it and peering out at the stars beyond. The gards assigned to follow her are standing near the door, and watching from a distance. The scarred woman seems almost thoughtful, and the reflection her blue eye is casting against the window leaves an illusion of her actually beingg on the other side, looking in.

The air temperature drops by a few degrees. Tor Ymal, the surly old bartender, shivers a bit, putting his jacket back on over his shirt.

The two naval guards flanking the captain take post at the door with Morganna's guards. Atrox himself passes slowly through the somewhat thinned afternoon crowds, gliding along the ground, almost slithering towards no particular destination, yet menacing towards all.

Morganna moves her hands so that her palms are resting flatly on the transparisteel, in a position that makes it look like if she pushed, she'd fall straight through and into the cold vacuum of space. She appears to be watching a freighter which has refused to be boarded for a customs check and is dodging turbolaser fire from one of the cap shops in the distance, a soundless, violent scene.

Adlerson comes in from the main hallway. Adlerson has arrived.

Morganna moves her hands so that her palms are resting flatly on the transparisteel, in a position that makes it look like if she pushed, she'd fall straight tyhrough and into the cold vacuum of space. She appears to be watching a freighter which has refused to be boarded for a customs check and is dodging turbolaser fire from one of the cap shops in the distance, a soundless, violent scene. Atrox has just entred the room and doesn't look like a happy Cappy.

The temperature drops another few degrees. One of the patrons looks for a thermostat, but fails to find one.

Adlerson enters trough the doors, his posture as usual professional, though his eyes literally beams. He stops for a moment to orientate himself, right at the entrance.

As a fly passes among the carrion, so the captain mingles among the patrons of the Guardian's lounge. He passes through a beam of light, reflected from O'Paanii, the star, off the deserts of the planet below. His eye gleams as he passes through, but even as the sun passes from view at sunset, so Atrox too slinks back into the shadows, the inevitable comfort enveloping him. He doesn't notice Morganna, but rather heads for the back of the bar.

Adlerson lets his idle yet sparkling glance glide among the patrons, nodding now and again in recognision to those showing the proper respect. He takes a deep breath then starts for the bar. It doesn't look like he has noticed Morganna or Atrox.

Morganna continues to watch the firefight a kilometer or so from the station, a bright flash of orangeish yellow light and the cease of flashes from the cap ship signify the end to the freighter captain's career. The woman snorts and shakes her head, "What kind of fool would try to smuggle something past this blockade?"

Adlerson's gaze is drawn towards the viewport, the rather unusual ocuranse of a firefight so close to the station tickeling his interest. He changes his course from the bar and heads for the viewport instead.

Raising a sleeve to his face, Atrox talks into his inner wrist in a hushed, gravelly whisper. Instantaneously, a squadron of Interceptors is launched from just below the viewport where Morganna stands. The captain makes his way into he back of the bar, disappearing into the shadows of a back room.

Morganna's eyes dart to the rush of interceptors silently flying from the station towards the disturbance. Her left eye flashes as she watches the hypnotically controlled flightpaths of the skilled pilots before pushing herself from the viewport and turning slowly around to face the lounge. She hasn't noticed Aderslon's approach, her mind seems to be ticking away at something.

Adlerson's beaming smile fades slightly as he comes closer to the viewport, his eyes on the ships out there, his mind constantly evaluating their performance now. He stops a few paces from the port and stands, feet a shoulderwith apart, studying, taking mental notes.

With a shake of her head, the scarred woman derails her train of thought and takes her first real look around the lounge, her eyes rest on Adlerson for a moment, and she draws herself closer to him as her gaze does so. She grunts quietly, "Well.. it looks like I'm gonna be going soon."

Adlerson hears her words, though doesn't react at all. His gaze is still just darting between the ships out there. Slowly, hesitantly letting go of the display of power and precission he turns to face Morganna. The smile returns as he lets his professional self rest, "Ahh, Morganna. You are leaving us soon, you were saying?"

Morganna stuffs her hands in the pockets of her beaten up, old looking jacket. The jacket gives the woman an even scruffier appearance than usual and the hole in the left shoulder surrounded by a blood stain emphasises the fact. The woman's left eye glows a continuous blue, casting eerie shadows on her own face, "Yes.." she says in a gravelly voice with an affirmative nod, "As soon as I get clearance.. and my sublights are fried.." she snorts. Adlerson nods, the constant beam from his eyes not hard to spot. This is one man in love. He doesn't let himself display it any other way though. "I trust we have someone working on it?"

Morganna wrinkles her nose at Adlerson's unusual gleam in his eye, but never knowing love, she doesn't pinpoint it as such. She snorts and nods, folding her arms over her chest, the woman's grey eye has a gleam of impatience in it, "yeah, they have to work on a couple of TIEs first.. I can wait."

Coming out of the shadows, Atrox emerges from the back room, holding something wrapped in purple cloth. His face almost has a placid look on it, as though he is going to begin his only relaxation that he ever undergoes. He steps out from behind the bar, and still doesn't notice Adlerson or Morganna..

Adlerson nods, same smile playing on his lips, "Yes, I am afraid our priorities have to be met." Tilting his head slightly, "I trust you are in the clear now? No.. urges or needs whatsoever?"

Morganna shrugs and removes a hand from her pocket, shivering a little but not noticing Atrox, with a heavy sigh she states, "If I told you that I don't have any cravings at all, I'd be lying... I'll probably crave for the rest of my life, but I'm going to find a away to make the voices a little bit quieter."

Morganna waves a hand idly and snorts, her face emphasising her displeasure, "I don't want to come back here if I can help it.." she scrtaches her chin, "I'm going to try to stay out of Imperial space for a while just so I don't run into the captain or something."

Adlerson titlts his head, "The..Captain? We have more than one, you know."

Morganna grunts, "You know... Atrox.." she almost hisses the name, "I wouldn't trust him as far as I could spit on him..." she lowers her vopoice slightly, and waves a hand, "I can't wait to get off of this damn station and back to KOS."

Adlerson chuckles softly, "Trust is a funny thing. No, I do not trust him either, but as long as he keeps in line and does his job as well as he does now I see no reason to replace him." His gaze turns unfocused for a moment, silence. He looks at you again, "I wish I could come with you. I really need to talk to some of the family."

Morganna lifts her shoulders and drops them in a heavy shrug, "If you want me to deliver any messages, I'll do that.." she shrugs, "You have the holo and stuff, but I dunno..."

Adlerson nods, "Yes.. I will try to call them, but when you meet them you could just tell them I said hi, and that I am well. That is miss them." His smile turns wider again, "Well if there is nothing else I should be on my way."

Morganna turns her view back to the transparisteel viewport, the woman seems to be in slightly better spirits, "I'll pass that onto them.. and thanks.." she frowns, "I may seem like an ungrateful bitch sometimes, but that';s just me. We may bump into eachother sometime else.." her left eye reflects on the viewport like a dying star

Adlerson extends a hand to shake yours, nodding, "Perhaps we will. And belive me, your stay has been no inconvinience at all. Just promise me you will stay away from spice."

Morganna tuns from the vireport to firmly shake Adlerson's hand, she nods, and says in a solemn voice, "I don't wantto go through this crap again.. I imagine that I'll be recieving a gift from you soon?"

Adlerson nods once as he returns the shake, "Expect it to arrive at your account shortly." He retracts his hand and nods again, taking a step back, "Until next time then.. Have a good day, Morganna." He flashes her a last smile then turns on his heals and heads aft.

Morganna actually smiles to Adlerson, but this brief flash of emotion fades as she sits down on a chair near the viewport, staring out at the now tranquil stars.

Atrox emerges from the shadows with his parcel just as Adlerson leaves..perfect timing. He makes his way over to a large, comfortable couch near one corner, facing the viewport, and cradles his orb as he walks..

Morganna sinks down in the rather comfortable chair, she pulls out a comlink and peers at it, as though scowling at the inainmate device will speed up the repairs on her sublights. She sighs and stuffs it back in a pocket, leaning back and ignoring any glances from the crew.

Hawke comes in from the main hallway. Hawke has arrived.

As the captain sinks into the comfort of the couch, he unfurls the violet cloth from the orb cradled in his arm. It reveals itself to be a black bottle. He unwraps the parcel, leaf of cloth by leaf of cloth..

Atrox is seated near the window, off by himself, unwrapping a wine bottle. The air is cold here.

Hawke walks over to the bar, not even noticing the captain or Morganna.

Morganna shivers a little more and grunts, "I wish someone would turn up the blasted heat in this damn lounge." she pries her eyes from the viewport and they slide across the walls, as though in search of a control panel within reach. With an annoyed sigh, the woman lowers her gaze to the various people scattered about the room, her gaze locking upon Atrox for a moment, right eye widening somewhat.. She quickly removes her gaze and sinks down more in her seat, cursing quietly.

A breeze of warm air blows across Morganna's skin. It doesn't appear as though Atrox has done anything but unwrap his wine bottle and place it in front of him on the table. The coldness returns in a few seconds.

Hawke removes his helmet and sets it down on the bar.

At the warm breeze, the woman begins to settle down a little more in her seat, chalking it all off as just a weird climate control setting, until the chill returns. The woman scowls and returns her eyes to the stars, but not with the same hypnotic concentration that she held with them earlier.

The scent of fresh berry wine permeates this end of the lounge near the viewports. Atrox pours into a goblet, allowing the purple goodness to flow slowly, rather than 'spoil' the perk. He performs several odd-looking rituals, including a swirl and a smell, before partaking of his first real sip, which he savors. His eyes do not leave the bottle, or the label..it's hard to tell from your angle...

The scarred woman perks slightly, taking a whif of the pleasent smelling wine from her soft and comfy perch. She makes no move to approach atrox or his wonderful smelling wine, but her gaze does flick over curiously, as though trying to assess trhe bottle from where she is sitting, her eye flashes and she frowns, her eyesight isn't quite /that/ good.

A sudden scare: Two naval troopers, clad in ebon plasteel, stand behind you now. One of them touches your shoulder. "Captain Atrox requests your company, Miss Tazecks.." This is the most polite and cordial you've ever heard them..

Morganna jumps slightly at the touch on her shoulder as she is thrown out of her deep thought. She glances over at the table and frowns, "He wants my company?" she asks carefully, as though not believing her ears at both the request and the polite tone.

The trooper remains silent, but merely looks over to where the captain sits, eyes transfixed on O'paal beyond. You notice there is an empty glass sitting next to his.

Hawke yawns slightly.

Most of the patrons have departed. The lounge is quiet now, save for a few TIE techs playing Imperial Command in the corner and one or two stormtroopers near the bar. Tor Ymal begins to wipe the bar down.

Morganna frowns slightly and rises from her seat with a heavy sigh. Slowly she walks over to the couch at which Atrox is seated, she stands and folds her arms over her chest, speaking in her edgy voice with more than a hint of suspicion and mistrust, "You wanted to speak with me?"

Atrox raises an eyebrow, lowering his head a few degrees, and proffers a seat on the spacious couch near him. Wordlessly, he picks up the bottle again in his right hand, examining the label, which is brown, faded and cracked. The bottle itself is made of a seemingly opaque glass, and half of it is still expertly wrapped in a purple cloth, which seems to be generating its own coolant for the wine.

The scarred woman's left eye flashes, possibly in surprise at the lack of an insulting remark, and she seats herself on the couch. She doesn't appear to be incredibly relaxed, and her right eye shifts from Atrox to the bottle. She grunts softly, "That's pretty old wine..."

The shrouded form speaks, "Necr'ygor Omic '42... There are a handful of bottles of Omic from the early 40's, and I own the lot of them..." His voice is noticeably different, and he actually has taken on a relaxed form. Wine, it seems, is his only redeeming form of relaxation and enjoyment, aside from his day job. He hands you the bottle carefully, as one would hand a newborn to its father, and proceeds to remove his cloak. You can see that his tunic is undone at the top...a rare sight for this man. He wears a black shirt underneath, and hints of a purple tattoo claw their way out of the edges of the neckline.

That's another noticeable thing..the year he mentions. Wine must be still kept in Republic years... Imperial years are the mainstay of the galaxy now.

Taking the bottle in her hand, Morganna examines the label and seems to be taken slightly off guard by Atrox' detatched and relaxed demenor. She looks at it and shrugs, "It's old wine... I've never seen old wine before.." her tone is somewhere boredering on indifference and curiosity. The woman is wearing a very beat up looking leather jacket, complete with blood stained blaster hole in the left shoulder, but it hides the hideous scarring on her arms.

Atrox has a placid look on his face as he draws his first full draught of the wine, allowing it to sit on his pallet for a second before swallowing it slowly. "So I hear you're departing the station?" he asks matter-of-factly. "I was assuming you'd left already.."

The woman's right eye flicks from the bottle to the empty glass, her left one maintains it's omnidirectional stare and she shrugs, waving a hand, "My Sublights are fried, I ain't going anywhere til the blasted ship is fixed.." she snorts and sinks into the couch, motioning to the glass with her spare hand, "May I?"

Wordlessly, the relaxed Imperial officer takes the bottle and one-handedly pours about a quarter glass of the wine. His form seems awkward, but he pours without missing a drop. He sets the wine down, taking his glass and smelling the air above the wine deeply, allowing it to calm him. A tech in the corner makes a confused face, obviously rarely having seen the captain act like this before. Must be the wine. Must be..

The temperature rises a few degrees. Several repair ships float by outside, headed down on the station..

A genuine smile passes across Atrox's lips for a second. It looks awkward on him, perhaps because his face isn't used to that experssion. He rolls the glass around in his hand, swirling the remaining wine slightly. "Omic wine is my one escape.. My life is the Empire's... but Omic is mine and mine alone..." he grins a little, breaking out of his cryptic phase. "Especially Necr'ygor Omic '42..this is the only bottle left."

< Somewhat taken back by the smile, Morganna frowns. As Atrox speaks, the words seem to flow around the woman and she sips the wine again, not really understanding all of what he's saying, "What is.. or was Omic.." she cautiously asks, "I don't know much about anything outside of my own little personal bubble.. I was never given an opportunity to learn, so I stumble around preneding I know more than I do. You obviously know about this kinda stuff, so I'm not going to insult you by pretending I know what the hell you're talking about". Her tone is quiet, almost conversational, but with that distict edge of uneasiness she seems to carry most of the time.

Atrox smiles understandingly, another unfamiliar expression. "Necr'ygor Omic wine... Produced on Tralgos III and IV from a mix of two berries, the Omiaa berry, from which it gets its name, is the main one. But without the Ha'll'aa fruit, it will only ferment into something akin to repulsor grease." This is his attempt at humor.

Morganna rubs her chin and her lips threaten to turn up into a smile, but they don't quite make it, she grunts, "I think they've served the failures of this wine in Mos Eisely.." she shudders, "Too many bad headaches from the mystery drink." The scarred woman sinks as far down in the soft couch as she can, falling silent as she is swept into deep thought.

"Mos Eisley.." Atrox rubs his chin and finishes off the last of his glass. "I can honestly say that's one of the places I've never been to." He says this wistfully, as though not proud of how much he's traveled and how much he's done...

Morganna continues to mill about in her thought pool for a moment, before staring right at Atrox and asking, "Why are you being so nice to me..?" the question isn't spoken in a way as to be an attack but is one of confused curiosity, she sips her wine and frowns slightly as sher waits for an answer.

An almost pained expression on his face, Atrox squirms in his seat without moving a muscle. His inner torment is very visible, and he takes a deep breath and swallows hard before even looking over at Morganna. He looks her in the eyes, his face not unlike a child, and opens his mouth, but no words come out.. He's wrestling with new emotions, and could explode or break down at any moment..

Morganna edges back slightly, obbviously concerned about this change in Atrox's demenor, she seems almost threatened by it, and certainly confused. She opens her mouth and squeaks, "Is something wrong?", Morganna completely ignores the wineglass in her right hand, but she looks ready to leap up and race out of the room, she is tensed like a spring.

Atrox leans his head back and sighs, his eyes closed. He allows his body to go limp and his strong spirit once again sinks into the depths of his body. He breathes in and out again slowly. "Don't go.." he breathes, ever so slightly...

Morganna continues to stare at Atrox as though he's grown another arm or something, she stammers, losing some of her composure, "I can't stay here.. I have work to do on Kos." The scarred woman's left eye flashes, and she relaxes slightly, not comprehending any of this.

Kna'vei puses the door open and looks around for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness of the room.

Atrox places a shivering hand on Morganna's wrist, his body not used to nonviolent physical contact. He is quiet, but looks at her in a singular moment of humanity. His soul is bared in this one touch, this one moment. People come and go from the lounge, ships depart and enter the system, empires are built and crumble...but to Atrox there is only this touch, this moment. It is a disarming emotion that disturbs him visibly. He breathes again, slowly in, slowly out, sitting forward alightly

Atrox and Morganna are seated near the window. There are a few techs in the corner playing Imperial Command, the bartender wipes the bar down, and Hawke drinks with another ST at the bar. Atrox and Morganna are on a couch near a wine bottle with two glasses, facing the viewport.

Bourne enters the Lounge, giving a respectful nod to the absorbed Captain, not expecting him to notice as he walks silently towards the bar, reaching behind the counter for a cup and the coffee pot and pouring himself a mug of the brown fluid.

Morganna tenses visibly as Atrox touches her, she shivers and freezes, not jerking her hand away, or trying to deck him as she probably would to anyone else. The scarred woman's emotionless features melt into pure fear for a moment, and all around her is forgotten but this gentle touch from a man with a heart as cold as hers, which is abot as cold the frozen plains of hoth. Snapping out of it she stammers and pulls her hand back, not violently or quickly, but with a sense of evensiveness, she is not used to such a gentle touch without violent repercussions. "I.. Wha.. don't..""

Lowering his head, Atrox wrestles with his nature, which tells him to put his wall back up, to not care about anything but himself anymore. A single tear appears at the corner of his eye, but recedes just as it appears. He looks back up, his face similar to his old self, but inherently different to Morganna. "Captain Tazecks, your ship must be ready by now, no?" he asks quietly, softly.. sadly..

Morganna looks down at her scarred hands and shakes her head, speaking in a quiet voice, more quiet and human than usual.. "They said it wouldn't be fixed until later tonight.. they had to work on some interceptors.." The woman furrows her brow in confusion, cheer, complete confusion. She seems bewildered and shaken by this whole thing, usually she would have run, but she hasn't.. nor has she tried to lash out at the man. She shivers a little and looks up at Atrox, her right eye shimmering with emotion and threatening to pop out of her head, "Why.." is all she manages to say.

Ignoring the last word, Atrox asks softly, sadly, "Would you like me to prioritize your ship? It would be no problem..."

Morganna shrugs heavily and looks past Atrox to the viewport, remembeing her wine for the first time and draining it, "I.. no.. It's okay.. I don't mind.." she shakes her head, in incomprehension, "I can't understand why you're sad.. you wanted to get rid of me a few days agao.." her voice is soft without a hint of conviction, but full of confusion.

As quiet as he can muster, Atrox mutters something about, "I'm....not used to..... this...feelings....you"

Morganna bites her lip and looks almost like a small child, biwildered and afairad, "Feelings? she asks in a voice so quiet that it comes out as a squeek, "I.. Me?" she asks..

Atrox looks away, his long ponytail whipping around his face, then landing on his shoulder. He is quiet, and merely looks off to the freighter operation beyond, which is now concluding with the tractor tow of the freighter towards the station. He shoots a glance back to Morganna, but cannot take his eyes back away, so he merely diverts them down. He slowly places his hand on her wrist again....timidly attempting contact again.

Morganna tenses again at the touch, but doesn't pull away, her right eye flickers with anger, not directed at Atrox but at her lack of understanding over the whole thing, a droplet of liquid inches its way down the right side of her face and she whips up a hand in frustration to remove it. The woman is quivering slightly, her normally strong presence as timid as a space rat in a room full of gundarks.

His hand still on Morganna's, the Captain regains a smidgeon of his composure. He grabs the wine bottle carefully and pours two glasses, finishing it off. He takes one and offers her the other. His face is hard to read here..

The scarred woman is still shaking, she takes the glass with her free hand and mutters softly, "Um.. th.. thanks..". The woman makes no move to remove her hand, but she doesn't seem to be too sure as to whether she likes this or not.. it's a completely new feeling to her, and she is trying to ignore the voices in her head screaming at her to take the bottle and crown the bastard. Shaking the murderous thought aside, Morganna sips the wine.

As quickly as a Tatooine sandstorm recedes, inevitably it may also return. Atrox's unimpressed sneer returns for some unknown reason, his telltale emotionlessness back on track. He pulls his uniform top taut, refastening it. The air temperature drops a few degrees once more. "Oh please do stop.. Weeping is unbecoming, Captain Tazecks..." His eyes, moist a few seconds before, are now frozen by the coldness of his soul...

A bright blue glow comes from Morganna's left eye as she tugs her hand away, blinking in disbelief for a moment. Her face contorts into one of anger and she snaps, "You bastard.. you two fased asshole." she stands up and growls, tossing the glass of very expensive wine on the floor, shards of crystal glistened with the ruby drops sparkling in a crescendo of sounds, "I'm never letting anyone get close to my emotions again.. because this is what happens." her right eye narrows and she hisses, "Have a nice life, captain."

Certain twisted souls thrive on the pain of others...Atrox is no exception. His face shows how unimpressed he is. "Nice try..it was empty." He sits back. "You know, outbursts and cursing like that... You're not helping your image. Anyways, your ship should be finished by the time you reach the hub. Give KOS my best." He rises, pulling his uniform taut once more. An odd-looking mouse droid comes and begins to sweep up the glass, but gets terrified and scurries away when the captain passes it. He pauses looking back.."And don't forget your wine bottle..." he adds, just for image's sake. He turns and heads over to talk to one of his officers near the door...

The temperature once again drops a few degrees.. Tor Ymal dons his jacket once more behind the bar.

Morganna picks up the Winebottle and growls, poising to toss it at the departing Atrox with all her strength, twitching, pausing as though thinking about it. Hurt straight to the soul, she doesn't care about mortality, and the glass bottle flies across the room at Atrox. Morganna's eye glows furiously.

Bourne catches a flicker of movement out of his eye and turns, dropping his coffee cup, which was half-empty, splashing coffee over the bar as he moves off his barstool, his head coming up to regard the projectile, the Captain, and Morganna, as he moves rapidly towards Morganna, his hand scrabbling back to his hip for a blaster which isn't there.

With what looks like it has to be prescience, Atrox turns at the perfect moment and puts up a hand, once again covered in black leather glove, to deflect the sharded glass to the ground. This time the bottle is completely destroyed. To the casual observer, it could be sworn (and later will in recounts and stories) that this is an act of the supernatural. He smirks, almost appreciatively. "I appreciate the effort, but you still don't impress me." He turns his head to the door, looking to the guards and nodding. He then, without looking back to Morganna, heads out the door wordlessly. His guards file out behind him, and hers come and take her by the arms, dragging her swiftly away. They are met at the door by a security officer, who helps to discharge the vagabond...

Morganna growls at the guards, but doesn't struggle with them, she calls to Atrox as he leaves, "I'll get you, you bastard.. The next time you see me.. I'll tan yuor skin like some Horansi.." The woman is dragged out by security, all eyes on her.

A guard speaks aloud, "Deck One". They hold Morganna roughly, what you can see of their faces devoid of emotion

Morganna struggles slightly, a bristling, violent excuse for a human being,

The struggle is heard all over the hub as the turbolift doors open. A pair of black-clad naval troopers drag a scarred woman out and across the deck, she struggling slightly the whole time..

Morganna is being tugged along roughly by a pair of Naval guards. Her organic eye reflects a lethal mix of anger, hAte and betrayal. She sneers, "If you're going to detain me, just shoot me now.. I'd rather die than have to see that bastard again."

Shuttle/Fighter Bay

This is the stations primary link between outer space and itself. From here, all sorts of ships ranging from the most primitive snub fighters, to the most luxurious Imperial Shuttles can be seen taxi-ing on and off the flight deck, to there designated holding area's. Large men, in Imperial uniforms immediately rush to a new arrival, hooking all sorts of instruments to it to recharge it's power and get it ready for when it has to leave. High above, are a small cluster of dangling claws of sorts. These are the TIE Fighter recovery racks. When a TIE Fighter has to land, these claws grabble it and hold it while it is refueled, and takes off again. This is a clear statement that this is a military base. Another such statement is the armed stormtroopers that occasionally pass by, and that are by the doors.

-=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Shuttle Terminal -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=-

The struggle is heard all over the bay as the doors open. A pair of black-clad naval troopers drag a scarred woman out and across the deck, she struggling slightly the whole time..

Morganna snorts and grunts, "Oh /I/ see.. you're going to space me! How pleasent, I've always wanted to go out with a bang...." She slowly realises that she's being taken to her ship and she snorts, "I'm alive, I guess he really does like me.."

The troopers stop a few meters from her ship. "We've received orders not to let you back in without orders from the captain himself. Get out of here, and don't let us catch you making any more trouble for Imperial Officers." They turn to leave, the officer staying till the ship leaves..

Morganna sneers and boards her ship, "I wouldn't come back here unless Hoth melted or something, I'd get you to pass on a message to the captain, but it would probably get you killed.." she enters the code for her ship and boards the ramp

Morganna enters in a code and enters STARFIGHTER: Corellian YT-1300 -- Sable Fox