RPlog:Corellian Craziness Aftermath

Coronet Space Port - Coronet City

This port is busy, like most, but here the hot breath of takeoff and the deep rumble of engines is closer, more of a feature of the port than an annoyance. The landing pads and small maintenance bunkers sprawl across a large open area open to the sky and surrounded by blast walls to protect the farmlands beyond. Pilots, engineers and techs, mostly natives, move among the hardware as if at home in the confusing and fast paced Port. A large complex off to the side houses control functions, transport authority offices, and the CorSec station.

____________________________________________________________________________

Chapman

A 5' 5" tall male human with broad shoulders. Blonde hair and blue eyes. The hair line ishas slightly receeded and is parted on the left side. There are several small scars on his face. He is wearing long sleeves and his skin is slightly sun burned.

Daana_Roon

Towering at nearly two meters height, Daana Roon is of average height for a Wroonian female, with her pale blue skin and her dark blue, almost black, thick hair the most noticeable features. Her figure doesn't appear to be strong, yet lithe and used to longer periods of labour. Grey eyes peek curiously out of her blueish face that is mostly plain. A relative small and roundish nose leads down to her thin, dark blue lips, that hide her white straight teeth, rooted in dark violet flesh.

Currently she is wearing a white long-sleeved shirt, tucked into grey pants that lap over black bantha-hide boots that are ankle high. Around her hip a holster-belt is slung, covered partially by her coat, as well grey. Dangeling below that is a black lether necklace that is run through a relative long fang of an animal. Her hair is bound back into a strict 'pony-tail', so it doesn't get into her vision. A XiX Blaster Pistol, sleek and yet deadly, has taken residence in the holster around her hips.

____________________________________________________________________________



Chapman says, "Can I help you?"

Chapman smiles at Simon

Hospitals and drugs were never Simon's way, and it was an aspect of this civilization that he wasn't willing to accept yet. While it seemed that the drugs and actions done in the name of medicine seemed to be the stuff that miracles were made of, Simon couldn't help but wonder if the tampering was a step toward corruption of the soul. Besides, he had ways to deal with the pain, and ways to knit his broken bones together more quickly than most. Still, he'd allowed that support bandage to be strapped around his midsection, and though it did much to hamper his free movement, it also did much to help him deal with the pain and keep from injurring himself further.

Evading the nurses and doctors and hospital workers had been fairly easy, and returning to the starport to wait at the _White Ghost_ was even easier. He stands at the closed entrance ramp, his eyes moving about the area with idle curiosity. At Chapman's approach and greeting, he turns his attention to the stranger, nodding his head and saying, "Greetings, Traveller."

Chapman nods at Simon.

Chapman says, "Can I help you with anything?"

Chapman says, "Is the White Ghost your ship?"

For a moment, Simon studies Chapman quietly, eyes narrowed slightly. He says in answer to the man's repeated question, "Thank you, sir, but I am well. The... doctors... of Corellia have done what they can for me." His speach is rich with an alien accent that slurs his words, and the pronunciation of the word 'doctor' is odd. More like "dock tore". At the second of Chapman's inquiries, Simon turns his attention momentarily to regard the YT-1300, then says, "It is not my ship. It belongs to a friend of mine." Another pause, his eyes turning back to Chapman, then, "You have the look of much time in the open and the suns. You would not be from... Tat ewe Ine... would you?"

Chapman smiles at Simon. "I have just recently arived from sandy beaches of Coral City. After much time relaxing on the shores I'm anxious to find some employment and adventure. I have never been to Tat Ewe Ine."

"If it is adventure you are seek, you may find more than your bargain for here," Simon says slowly, his left hand moving to his side. For a moment, his blue eyed gaze moves off in the direction the wild aerial pursuit had taken him, and he shakes his head in wonderment. "Be careful in your search, Traveller. There are predators walking the streets of this city-jungle."

Chapman says, "Where are you headed? To a more hospitable jungle?"

Chapman tucks his thumbs into his belt.

A light, mirthful laugh errupts from Simon with Chapman's inquiry, forcing the goateed man to hold his sides. Even light laughter is painful when you have broken ribs. The amused look on his face is replaced with a wince of pain, and Simon says, "If I find a hospitable jungle, I'm sure to settle down. I'm sure that it will be the day that the plains beasts take wing, and the fish walk on dry ground."

Chapman says, "Talk to you later" as he turn around.

Chapman enters the Smuggler's Dig.

Mira comes hobbling into the spaceport, having been patched up by the fine doctors the NRI had provided. Doctors were no stranger to the girl, as her parents had carted her off to one specialist after another trying to figure out what was wrong with her. Of course, she didn't particuarly understand what her parents found the matter. She always felt okay. And from what she could gather from what they had found in all the tests they had performed on her during her childhood, she was just the way she was, and they really couldn't do a whole lot about it. This never seemed to satisfy her parents, who would always take her somewhere else.

So going to the doctor after the speeder chase really wasn't anything horribly traumatic, except that this time she was in a considerable amount of pain and was actually glad to be given pills and patched up. But as soon as she could slip away from the nurse who had been following her around like a puppy, Mira did, and had made a beeline for the spaceport and the White Ghost. She, too, had a bandage wrapped around her midsection to care for the ribs, but was otherwise just badly bruised.

As Simon and the odd, tanned stranger part company, Simon finds his eyes turning in Mira's direction even before she comes into view. A wry grin spreads across his lips at this. There was a time when knowing things before they happened, or sensing a friend's presence had alarmed him. Now, it is something he's accepted, a part of him just as his arm and his eyes are a part of him.

As he waits for Mira to approach to speaking distance, he moves closer to the sealed ramp of the _White Ghost_. He starts to lean against the hull of the ship, but then stops as he once more remembers the broken ribs and the lack of flexibility provided by his injuries and his bandage. Sardonically, he considers how happy he'd be departing this system, putting all this craziness behind him.

STARSHIP: Sardakh Kale-1 -- Solus's Osahn arrives with a woosh and slowly settles down on the landing area.

Daana_Roon emerges from the Sardakh Kale-1 -- Solus's Osahn.

Simon notices Mira before Mira notices Simon, as she thought she was extra wily for managing to evade her nurse caretaker. But as she gets closer to the White Ghost, she is surprised to find Simon already there. "Oh, hi," she greets him, tottering over to the closed ramp of Markus's ship. "Have you seen Markus? Do you know how she's doing? What about that other guy? Bazil? Are we going to see that Luke person?" she spills out in a quick stream of questions.

She then walks over to the panel that controls the ramp and pokes at it idly, resulting in a series of rude beeps and bloops from the controls, as she punches in teh wrong code. "Do you know the code? I don't," she says, continuing to poke at the buttons.

And then, in comes little ol' Bazil, tromping along from the south, a brand new suit over his body, and his sword nice and fixed. He is also managing to much on a sammich whilst he walks, peering here and there, and pretty much everywhere. The area had been cleared overnight, and cleaned up. Especically the large dents in the ground off in the distance. And, well, yeah. The ships are all there, but the vehicles aren't. Tra la la. He finally catches sight of Simon and Mira, and raises his arm in a wave, hoping to catch their attention. That is, if his mere presence doesn't attract them. Munch-much, walk-walk.

As the ship has finally settled down fully, the whine of it's engines dying down and the position lights winking out one at a time, the Solus's Osahn has completely shut down for a stay on Corellia. Well, from the exterior at least. The primal conductors remain charged, hopefully cutting the time it will take to power up the engines and make a blast out of here if it is nessesary.

After a short while the airlock opens, sending steams of white mist outwards, clouding the ramp for a moment, before Daana_Roon passes through it, keying the panel to secure the ship, stepping down the ramp onto the tarmac, glancing around. Her eyebrows raise a little bit, as she catches a wave, but then realizes it is not directed at her, but at the people two ships to her right...

The wave of questions and words spilling out of Mira washes over Simon, leaving him blinking and almost dizzy trying to follow what she's saying. He opens his mouth twice to answer but changes his mind each time, picking out a different way to answer. Again, Simon is left with a sense of envy for this girl's ability to speak so fast.

Finally, he does find his tongue, saying, "I have not seen Markus since we were separated by the people from the hospital last night." His eyes flicker in Bazil's direction as the man waves and lumbers toward him. He continues, "As for seeing Luke, I believe it will be up to that traveller over there." He nods his head in Bazil's direction, then turns his gaze toward the newly arriving ship and it's passenger. Such a busy place, Corellia...

And, as Bazil arrives near Simon, he bows politely, "Did you rest well?" His face is subdued, and slightly tired. A bulge resides under his shirt and jacket, probably just a lot of bandages for the broken ribs. Hopefully, Kathryn wouldn't show up again. "I'm afraid we must leave quite soon. I am scheduled for a meeting with several persons of the Diplomatic corps and Master Skywalker himself, hopefully. Things have come up that require my attention, and I am already behind schedule."

Daana_Roon blinks slightly, even as she was about to move along, but now she settles next to a Information Terminal in the vicinity of the three people talking, as she caught some bits of this conversation. Well, Skywalker is about to catch most people's attention. And she is always eager to hear about old aquintance's friends. Once again her gaze seems, almost causally, sweep the three persons, trying to rember if she saw one or the other face already.

"Where are you going?" Mira asks Bazil, looking away from the control panel for a moment as he arrives, leaving the "Are we going with you?" question unasked at the back of her mind. But most of her thoughts are concentrated on getting the ship open, and where Markus could be, so that perhaps he coudl get the ship open. After the last few days, the girl was ready to get out off the planet and somewhere more peaceful. Or at least somewhere new. This city was so boring. And dangerous.

The control pad Mira has been poking at continues to beep rudely with each combination of buttons pressed. The buttons themselves been pleasantly upon being pressed, but every so often, the pad itself objects and a red light on the panel flashes. What a bad tempered console.

When Bazil speaks, Simon fixes his blue eyes on the fellow, nodding slowly at the end of his words. "For a foolish man that tried to be as a bird in flight, I am well." He starts to ask another question, but Mira is ahead of him with her lightning tongue, lashing out with a question over top of Simon. It is just as well, as she seems to be skill in the words of Basic. He regards her as she fiddles with the contraption afixed to the ship, then shakes his head before commenting.

"Unless you have the knowledge of such things, getting inside the vessel will do us little good," Simon says, his slurred sing-song accent running several of his words together. "I do not believe Markus is hidden away in the ship, and we will need him to make the ship do our bidding."

"Yeah, I'll take you guys with me if you want." Bazil starts, and then he smiles softly, memories flooding to the very tip of his brain. The city. Not just any city. THE city. "Coruscant." He simply says, "I'm going to Coruscant." Coruscant, the city-planet, and capital of the New Republic. And hopefully, Luke was still there. Well, he'd better be there, otherwise Bazil would be unhappy like. But, oh well. "It's not far from here, really. And it's very safe to travel to. So many people come and go from there, it's easy to get lost in the crowds."

Daana_Roon blinks slightly. Coruscant. It is not the planet she had in mind as next stop, but well, there are two persons in need who cannot get into this ship, and well, she cannot sell her cargo here for profit. Perhaps she could shoot two mynocks with one bolt. Again her gaze settles on the small group. They are nervous, that is the only thing that is hindering the blue skinned woman to approach right away. Nervous, and trying to hide. Causally her hand reassures herself that her blaster is where it should be.

Mira sighs heavily, glaring at the control panel as it bleeps rudely at her once again. "But my stuff is inside," she whines, finally turning away from the ship and looking at Bazil and Simon. "And I want to check on it." But, realizing that Simon is probably right, she gives up on trying to guess the code. She sulks in a sullen silence for all of a full minute before she perks up at what Bazil says. "Coruscant?" she asks, that name sounding a lot more pleasant than Tatooine. Having grown up in the city, even an isolated life in the city, she felt most at home when not out in the middle of nowhere. Too many wild things out in nature. The birds here were bad enough.

Simon's reaction to the prospect of going to such a busy place is understandably apprehensive. Just as Mira had grown up within a city, Simon had been born into a world that knew no cities... a nomadic life did not make for one to root too deeply. And so many people... it'd been hard keeping his eyes on Mira and Markus with the few they'd run into so far. How would he be able to protect them amidst a sea of faces?

Frowning slightly, Simon says to Bazil, "When is it you'll be needed for your duties? The doctors I was pinned by last night were like wet-nurses, swaddling oversized babies and clutching them to thier bossom. If they have latched onto Markus in such a way, it may be difficult to leave with you. I do not wish to leave my friend behind."

"We have someone watching us," Bazil says simple, quietly, and without much warning. He doesn't seem too concerned, his eyes just randomly peering about the area, boredly. Of course it's his job to notice such things. To notice that someone is gazing at them. And stuff like that. "I can delay my meeting until later this evening, or early this week. And trust me, I'll get Markus out of the hands of his fixer-uppers as soon as I hear word on his condition." A shrug, and he moves his hands over his hips again, just enough to slip his coat back, prominantly revealing the sword -- and blaster -- yet again. Subconsciously, of course. "If you would prefer, Simon," He caught the name last night, finally, "I can arrange for Luke to meet you at an alternative location."

Spot the heat. While Bazil's job might be to notice things as beeing watched, it has been Daana's insurance to survive the next day to catch subtle threats, and the small arsenal of weapons being revealed to her did speak enough. So here she is, left with two possibilities. Duck back into the crowd, trying to loose any tailing if the man decides she had been to obviously watching, or head on into it. With everybody else, the outcome of this might be questionable, but Daana just grins,, causally unsnaps the peace strap of the holster, flaps the coat over the weapon and begins to head towards the small group, smiling.

"Where!?" Mira says loudly, swivelling around very obviously to stare in the direction had Bazil glanced so subtly. What did people want from them? All this attention was something she fully wasn't used to. The cloaked Corellian girl stares at Daana until she notices her unclipping her blaster and coming towards them. She turns back to the group and says, "Here we go again," a little too loudly, tossing an apprehensive look to Simon. She takes a step closer to him, who she trusts almost as much as she does Markus, at this point, which is probably more than she should trust anyone she has known for all of two days. But they had been through quite a bit together.

Once more, Mira demonstrates the very reason why Simon would never take the girl on a hunting expedition if the opportunity presented itself. Even the slowest, fattened game with a lame foot and blind in one eye would be warned well in advance of Mira's approach. Shaking his head slightly, Simon gives the girl a wry smile, meeting her gaze before shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet. His right hand moves casually to rest at his side a few centimeters from the silver cylinder of his lightstaff as his gaze turns toward the approaching stranger.

"I do not think there is immediate danger," Simon says quietly to Bazil. His eyes remain fixed on Daana, though. If he was wrong, would he be able to do much with half his ribs broken?

Sure, Simon might not be able to wave his lightsaber around, but word has it, Bazil still has his guards around. And, then there's the fact that he wasn't as injured, and he has a big blaster. Plus who knows what else. "I agree. Maybe she just wants to talk." His hands remain at his side, but he makes no effort at all to unclasp the little piece of leather that keeps his Kylan in it's holster. He just stands there, peering back and forth between Mira and Simon. Until, finally, his gaze passes onto Daana, and he smiles softly, lifting the hand closest to his blaster in a small wave to the other.

Daana_Roon almost misses a step, as she is very obviously noticed. So much for the 'Hello. Welcome to Corellia. I am a tourist-guide'-aproach. Well, she has a couple of steps left, before she has to have come up with a new approach, her smile unfading, her heading shifting slightly, moving off to one side to close the distance she would need to get into cover. A sword. A think that looks like a stun baton of some sort, with those swiches, and a girl with a myriad of possibilities to conceal weapons under this cloak. At the wave she actually chuckles. Surreal, even for Daana's standards. "Hello there!", she says with a disarming smile (or so she hopes.).

A bow to the woman, and he throws a crooked, awkward, smile towards her, immediately wandering over to her, and extending a hand forcefully for her to shake, "G'day, Mad'm! Name's Mege Vauki, o' Vauki Industries Lim'ted. How c'n I 'elp yeh? My comp'ny off'rs transport, shippin', 'n communications charters thr'out th' known in'r an' outer cores." Yeah, right. But, he offers it in as convincing a matter as he can. Mege Vauki had made his apperance on Corellia, Caspar, and various other major worlds before. And, his 'company' was one of the better known shipping companies, even if noone could claim to have used them before. It was also a good cover for the reason Bazil had access to so many ships. Most of which included freighters. And the accent, too, is quite perfect, some strange cross between a Tatooinian slur, and the kind of thing you'd hear on a hick-planet. He hopes that his new companions will understand some of this, at least.

Not really being untravelled neither, Daana rises her eyebrows at the man that so aptly changed his dialect from Coruscant-basic to .. well, Outer Rim gibberish. But well, are you going to argue to a man that is having a sword as long as your arm under that coat about their sudden change of pronunciation? Daana isn't right now. "Oh, really?", she queries. "That is interesting. I thought I overheared you talking about wanting to head over to Coruscant.", he says, smiling unbashfully at Bazil, shaking his hand firmly. "And here I thought there would be a bit of buisness for me.", he turns to looka at Mira and Simon, nodding her head, in greeting (and so she can be sure none of them is pulling any of those strange weapons they seem to fancy on her). "Well", she glances back at Bazil now, "I take you know your way around 'scant?".

Mira is nothing to worry about, as the small woman looks as if she poses no threat physically, and aside from her rather dingy cloak with very worn cuffs, she doesn't appear to be hiding any weapons on herself. She doesn't look very clever either, and even if someone gave her a weapon, she woudl probably only hurt herself with it.

As Bazil breaks out into his new way of speaking, it is all she can do to keep from breaking into a fit of giggles, which she wisely buries in the overhanging hood of her brown cloak. Upon recovering, she looks at Daana and says, "G'day," just like Bazil had, and figures herself quite clever.

The shift in dialects from Bazil produces a slight frown from Simon. While he didn't have much problem understanding the common accent he heard off most people's tongues when speaking Basic, Bazil's words reach his ears in an almost completely unintelligible jumble. He licks his lips a moment as he tries to decipher the meaning, then turns his gaze back to Daana. She, at least seemed to be able to make out clearly what Bazil had said. He listens to her words, deciphering what sounds like some sort of bartering proposal.

Then Mira chimes up, and Simon looks at her as if she'd grown wings. Was this some sort of camouflage? Shaking his head, he looks back at Daana, still ready to move if danger flared. People not of Telgosse were all crazy.

"I must be crazy.", are Markus' first words as he enters the spaceport area. His right hand goes to his ribcage, and there is a slight wince from the man. He pauses in his wandering, taking some time to recuperate. A small sigh, and he shakes his head. He had remained behind, when the others left. There was something he had to do by himself.

"I'll just wait at the ship, for a while." Yeah, that sounded good. Markus once more starts walking, this time towards the area where the ships are kept and a very particular ship there, the White Ghost.

"Yep, g'nna run these fella's over to Coruscant, hopefully." Bazil says simply, his hand shaking the other's, before it realeases, and drops to his side. He continues his lopsided grin, and offers, "Yeah, I've been thare once o' twice. Lovely place, if ye' dinnae mind all th' non-nature." He throws the grin over his shoulder towards Mira slightly, before turning back to Daana. And then his ears take in the sounds of Markus' arrival. He doesn't make any mention of it for the moment, though. He should, but he doesn't.

Standing by the White Ghost is a rather hetergenous group of people: a man talking like a freighter captain from some backworld planet, a hunter fellow who speaks in seeming riddles, a very tall blue woman, and a young woman in a ratty brown cloak. Mira, the one in brown, has recovered from her short fit of giggles Bazil's rapidly changing accent. She has also gotten over feeling clever for mimicing him. But glancing at Simon, and catching the bizarre way he is looking at her, she nearly starts snickering again. But she doesn't. That woudl not be appropriate. Or so she deems. So instead she stands quietly, just listening to everyone.

Gun na. Thar. These were not words that were used when speaking in the secret tongue of the _Selas_ Brotherhood. There were many other words in Basic that Simon learned since leaving Telgosse, but these in particular, rolling naturally off Bazil's tongue, strike him as particularly odd. In addition to coming up with some way to conceal his lightstaff, he would have to learn more of the language.

With Daana's words and her body language suggesting some apprehension towards himself and his companions, Simon's focus is undivided and completely directed toward stranger in front of him. It is to the point that he, too, is unaware of Markus's approach.

Well, Markus is certainly aware of his own approach. What he is not aware of, is why there seems to be a group of people gathered just next to his ship. He slows his pace, arching an eyebrow and curiousity making him absently scratch his chin. A few more steps and he now recognizes most of the crew. Except for one person. A thoughtful frown, and a shrug but the man continues on with his approach.

When he gets into listenining distance, he waves at the others, while holding his ribcage with his left arm. "Sorry about the wait.", he says, grinning widely but taking a moment to study the unfamiliar face. "Well, hello there.", offers to Daana.

"O' c'rse, m'am." Bazil/Mege offers to Daana simply, smiling. And then, he turns, heading back to stand with the other two frea-- err... of his companions. He offers a sly grin to Mira and Simon softly. And then, Markus appears, and Bazil's maw turns into a smile, as he realizes that this isn't going to be good. Internally, he's making one of those 'Oh fark, we're dead' laughs that people make in hopeless situations, but can't help but find it funny. His hands move back over his waist, his grip just in reach of his weapons, hoping dearly that Daana would be too distracted by the approach and talkings of Markus to notice Bazil is back in his ready-to-kick-butt mode. Of course, a second thought makes him lift his sword-hand up to the lapel of his jacket, innocently scratching at his neck, as well as innocently flipping the switch that activates his frabjous little comlink. It drops back into place, and then he offers, "'ey Mark. Didja rest well?"

Eyes widening, Daana is too late aware of somebody approaching from behind, and with old reflexes kicking in, she is already in a half spinning turn as she notices Bazil reaching for his weapon. Too late! Witht he direction of her monumentum set, there isn't much she can do to counter it, her hand reaching under her coat where her blaster has been readied to be drawn. Once her hand is on the butt of her blaster, he ears pick up the rustling and the clicking off of the safety behind her and she freezes. Blown out is what that's called in games of sabbac. One drawn too much.

Most of the reaching for weapons and the subtleties of what is going on between Bazil, his guards, and Daana is totally lost upon Mira as she stands vaguely paying attention to the conversation going on. After figuring out that it was all lies anyway, she didn't feel that it was necessarily important to pay attention. So her eyes had taken to roaming the spaceport, settling on the Sullustan vendors selling trinkets near the edge of the spaceport, then moving to the crowd of Calamari off to some convention somewhere to the south. Then her gaze is drawn to a man walking towards them who seemed to be in a bit of pain, if she were to judge by his gait. "Markus!" she chirps, a smile popping onto her face. Were she not so sore herself, she might consider trotting over to him, but since her body might protest should she decide to take that route, she simply continues to stand by the console that controls the ramp of the ship. Markus would let her in to check on her very important belongings inside.

Like Mira, much of the exchange between Bazil and Daana was lost on Simon. There was something at the edge of his senses, something on the verge of danger... but there was nothing he could see that was clearly threatening. Still, his right hand close the distance to his lightstaff, ready to draw the weapon and defend Mira as necessary.

As Daana moves for her weapon, Simon's face hardens, and he very nearly makes a specticle of himself again. All that holds him back is his instincts, telling him that there is no real danger. As suddenly as she moved, she seems to stop moving. It's then that he notices what distracted her, and Mira's exclamation reaches his ears.

With a sigh of relief, Simon relaxes visibly, loosening his white-nuckled grip on his weapon and offering his friend a smile as he approaches and acknowledges Daana. He did appear to be damaged, but he also appeared to be handling the pain as a true warrior, working through it and holding himself with pride. He would have made an excellent Telgosse hunter. That is, if weren't exiled.

Three's a charm, specially since Markus just arrived to the scene. The exchange between Bazil and Daana is more than lost in the man, but for some reason, he is suddenly worried about his ship. "Uhm....", is the first words that escapes his lips, if it can be called a word. A few blinks and then Mira's voice is finally registered.

"Mira.", he says, smiling but the expression in his face continues to show concern. Although Simon relaxes, Markus doesn't and in fact he looks to his friend and then Bazil for some sort of explanation on what's going on. Pain still goes through him, but it is almost forgotten, if that would be possible. He then addresses Bazil's question. "That I did...", his voice trailing off.

The sheen of the Corellian sun glints over the barrel of a completely black blaster barrel, it's dull finish just barely giving hint to it's existance. The pair of metal snubs that do their justice as sights run parallel to Daana's body, the entire piece held stiffly before Bazil's face, his arms completely extended, and locked in position, to stiffle the blow that could take off the arms of a weaker man. His face is calm, serene, and completely determined, staring down the sights at the blue skinned woman before him. His stance is careful, and shoulder-width, both of his hands gripped tightly around the device's stock. If one were to peer from the side, they would most definately notice the position of the fire selector, which is pointed prominantly on /stun/... unfortunately for Daana, such a view isn't possible. And then, he piques up, very slowly, "I do not wish to harm you. Please, move your hand away from your blaster, and I will lower mine." There is a hint of grim sickness to his words. He doesn't want to shoot her. He never wants to harm any living being. But, she /is/ dangerous with her hand on her blaster like that. And as such, it leaves him with the responsibility to protect these three. His life didn't matter, as long as they survived to meet Skywalker. And he knew it. Personally, Bazil had about as much worth as a Kashyyykian Dragon-Fly mounted in someone's collection. His eyes never leave Daana's large form, not even to check whether or not his companions were doing the same thing as he right now. The movements to withdraw the weapon had been swift and agile. His hand snapped onto the butt, a solitary finger slipping the leather lock off. The weapon flew up, towards the woman, simultaneously a finger charging it with a 'whine.'

Daana_Roon isn't going to argue. The bit of mind that had been trapped in watching physics evolving slower then she thinks actually had been expecting the sharp pain burning through her Coat onto the skin of her back and then further down into the flesh. So actually lets out a small sigh of relif as the next thing that hits her are words. Words are always better then blaster bolts, yes. Slowly she removes her hand from that blaster butt of hers, that doesn't even sport a stun swich she is not aware she has the benefit of. Rising her hands she doesn't turn, eying Mark or Marcus or whatever the name of the man is that nearly triggered her untimely death, if there is such thing as a timely one.

Strangely, Daana's lips curl upwards in a smile, and her left hand wiggles into a wave. "Hello there. Didn't see you sneaking up on me.", she says as if this wasn't obvious.

Mira notices the sudden flurry of movement as Bazil draws his weapon almost before it happens, her eyes flicking to him in shock and her body reacting to take a step back. Her gaze then drifts to the tall blue woman and it rests there for a moment, giving her a lingering look, wondering what exactly had happened that she had missed, and what she had done to make Bazil draw his blaster like that. A look that a master might give to his dog if it were to bring a dead bantha into the house. Like "What did you do? What happened? My goodness!" But without words.

The smile creeping onto Daana's face is almost enough to make the girl relax, and relax she does, her shoulders drooping slightly. Noticing that her breath is coming in short little breaths, she makes herself take as big an inhale as her broken ribs would allow, and then breath out. Relax. Although the tension still hanging in the air made it hard for her to do that. Well, at least breathe. Breathing is good.

Phew. With the crisis over, Bazil utters, "Thank you..." And then, he slips his own blaster back into it's little pouch, making sure to leave the locking strap undone, just-in-case. He peers between the conversees slowly, observingly, mostly of Daana, just to make sure she doesn't get any more funny ideas of gun-battling. Sure, he has a fierce weapon, but can he actually shoot the thing worth a damn? "Guys, now that we're finally here in our entirety, shall we head on over to Coruscant? I'm sure Luke is expecting us by now." Everyone except Daana, of course. Not that he meant her. But it might sound like that. He lifts his arms up to his chest, and crosses them, offering a small smile again, relaxing in his entirety, almost as if nothing happened, and quite ignoring Mira's question... it was over with. It didn't need any embellishing.

Markus first addresses Simon, respectfully nodding to the man. "It's good to see you up and out too.", he responds, slightly grinning. "I had to bargain my way out, but here I am.", he smiles then, winking at Mira. He nods at Daana, but from the look of his face the young man is still not comfortable with the whole blasters situation. Specially, with Mira around. He walks over to the girl, standing protectively next to her and then turns to Daana. "Didn't mean too.", he seriously offers to her.

He seems about to say something to Mira, when Bazil speaks up. Markus slowly nods. "Sure, let me get the ship open.", he offers and walks towards a panel on the ship, entering a code there. Slowly and with a loud hiss, the landing ramp opens up to allow the group into the freighter.

Daana_Roon is not entirely sure if Bazil had put away the weapon, but she turns to take a look, and then chuckles, shaking her head. "Skywalker.", she mutters slightly, slowly lowering her hands again. No reason to draw more attention then they do already. "Hey, sorry 'bout that. You guys were that obviously nervous and fake that it kinda rubbed off on me.", she says, both to Bazil and Markus, explaining the situations somewhat, before grinning at Markus. "But I never accidentally shot anyone yet.", she offers back.

On any normal day, Mira would have been up the ramp in a flash, probably before it had even finished opening. But this was no ordinary day. In fact, the entire last week and a half had really been very bizarre. At any rate, Mira was far too sore and uncomfortable to do any scrambling up any ramps. And showing an unusual amount of patience, she waits til the ramp is fully deployed and open on the ground before she hobbles up the ramp, trying to not be too obvious about the way she holds her side as she moved. Showing weakness would get you nowhere. So her father had always said. She disappears inside for several minutes, and from within the ship comes the sound of the rustling of paper bags. A few moments later, she reappears at the top of the ramp, holding a styrofoam cup. Very nice.

With Daana's words, a warm, open smile spreads across Simon's lips. It was refreshing hearing sentiments that so closely matched those of the people he'd been originally born into. Honor left very little room for deceit, and while a warrior could use camouflage and subterfuge, it was on the open field that his true colors were shown. It seemed almost a shame that he, Mira, and Markus were tied now to one that seemed to be in direct opposition to Daana. Almost, anyway.

Following Mira's lead, Simon backs up the ramp so as not to turn his back on Daana. He may respect her sentiments, but the potential for danger still existed in the unknown, which included her.

Fake? Well, but he was only being himself. Markus seems to be a little confused over Daana's words, but he also looks pleased enough that whatever misunderstanding was going on when he arrived here, is done for. He even throws a smile towards Daana, slowly nodding his head. "That's a good thing.", he offers, regarding the comment about the lack of accidental shooting.

A smile forms on his face, as Mira returns with the cup. "Nice.", he offers to the girl and starts walking up the ramp, reaching out to ruffle the girl' hair. Noticing Simon's position, the man seems to relax a little bit, a display of his trust towards the other. He nods at Simon and gestures for Mira to go inside again. "I'll be warming up the ship.", he offers to the group and then disappears inside the ship.

Daana_Roon watches the small group move up towards the ramp. Strange indeed. One would assume after the secrecy and defensiveness they have take against her, they woulf urge her to, uhm, accompy them. But not a word. A strange group indeed. "Well...", she says, looking at Bazil. "If that Solo is stil hanging around with this Skywalker, send him a message, will you?", she queries.

With the entry ramp to the _White Ghost_ still descended, Simon stands back just inside the ship, looking down and out at those left outside. His stance is almost reminiscient of a guard, holding the watch. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, and the expression on his face is emotionless, hiding his suppressed eagerness to get away from Corellia. Before anything else strange happened.

With great regret, Bazil nods softly in reply to Daana, and wanders forth to her, bowing deeply; not only as a show of respect, but also as a show of trust. If she wanted to kill him, now would be definately be a prime time. "My apologies for tonight. I admit that I was very untrusting of you at first, as you were with us. My name is Bazil McKenzie. If you wish to contact me," He lifts a hand, a small paper held between his fingers, "you may do so. And I will most definately let General Solo know you said hi." His smile is small, and subdued, "Daana, wasn't it?" The sun begins to slowly dip under the horizon in the distance, red beams glinting off the city, casting eerie shadows everywhere. The goodbyes are short, but who knows. Maybe the two will run into each other sometime down the road. If Bazil survives the next few months.

Daana_Roon nods at that, taking the little paper, smirking slightly. "Yes, Daana.", she says, chuckling. "He's General now? I lost track of him, but would he had you with him, back as we first met, Fett would have had a more difficult time.", she chuckles, shrugging. "If he recalls me at all.", she says, extending her hand in a more genuine handshake. "Don't worry about what happend. It was a nice decoy. I'll remeber it.". Survive. This is a qustion of minutes, not months. But Daana seems either confident or uncaring enough about it. "Clear Skies, and Fate be with you.".

Nodding, Bazil extends his own hand, and shakes Daana's, before releasing his to his side, "General now, yes. A pleasure to meet you, Daana." As if he didn't meet her before? Ok, so Mege met her. "Farewell, and may the Force be with you." And then, Bazil is turning his back to her, and wandering over to the entry hatch, calling up inside the ship, "Simon, I will be taking my own ship. Have Mark follow her, and I'll relay navigation coordinates once we get to a safe jump-point. Cya on the flip side. May the force be with you, too." Like it wasn't already?" He turns again, and starts trotting over to the YT-1300 he arrived in yesterday. Strange how it all happened. He really didn't know what to expect when he came here, but he definately wasn't planning on something like this. Jedi, kidnappings, close calls to several firefights? Crikies. It's a wonder Bazil is alive, alright.

Not having one of her uneventful weeks passed by her, Daana seems less concerned by it, and simply heads over towards the ship she arrived here. Perhaps she could meet Solo again. Didn't he marry too? She shakes her head. At times you just don't keep track of those aquintances of yours. But if he remebers her, it might give her an edge on this little job she had taken. After all, he owe's her one. HE will deny it of course. Suddenly Daana laughs, as she closes the final distance to her ship.

____________________________________________________________________________

Cockpit -- White Ghost

Connected to the main ring by a small angular corridor, the cockpit is a 4 meters wide protrusion from starboard side on the front of the freighter's hull. The front windshield is set 5 meters from the corridor by a plastisteel frame with transparasteel paneling between the supporting bars, allowing a comfortable view of the starboard outside of the ship.

Two comfortable bucket seats are surrounded by intricate pieces of aviation electronics. Essential flightdata is projected on the frontal transparasteel panel by the navigational computer, while other information is constantly fed to the pilot by means of small lights, displays and buzzers. Overhead, at about a meter above the individual chairs, are numerous switches and dials. Set to the middle, behind the flightsticks is the console of the navcomputer.

____________________________________________________________________________

Markus enters the cockpit area and inmediately heads for the pilot's seat. Mira was intently playing with her things back in a little simple lounge area. The ships is turned on and starts warming up and Markus looks back, for Simon. "You can join me here.", he offers, gesturing towards the copilot seat.

Markus then turns to the task of bringing the ship up into space, and away from Corellia. He sighs, "I'll be back soon...", is his whisper to his home planet. He punches something into the controls, just as the viewport shows now the black of space. The ship moving into an hyperspace vector towards Coruscant.

Quietly, Simon follows Markus into the cockpit area, nodding a smile to the man as he's welcomed into the area. It seemed to be yet another gesture of goodwill and trust from the Corellian, and it felt good having such a companion after being so long from home. Once more, Simon reflects on how Markus would have fit in on Telgosse. He would have earned many trophies and been awarded much honor. That is, if he weren't exiled and labeled _Selas_.

Some spacers look toward that rapid ascent, breaking through the heavens of a planet and entering the icy vacuum of space with excitement. Some take ill, with upset stomachs that argue and complain at the sudden change. Simon, being a man of the land and coming from a people who's greatest vessel was a boat that could cross a white rapids without upending, has the look of a man disbelieving what his eyes are telling him. He'd been in many flights over the last several months, but he'd never come to fully accept what was happening. His mind couldn't relegate the sight of it as anything less than extraordinary. Perhaps, he never would.

When the stars are suddenly stretching out before him, racing as if they were moving past and the _White Ghost_ was standing still, Simon lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He says, turning toward Markus, "I have heard it said that there are those amongst the Corellian that are married to the stars. She is a lovely bride, Markus Lisardis."

"True. My father was one of them.", Markus responds, just as the ship reaches its hyperspace vector and the starts become lines with it entering hyperspace. The white haired man bows his head, smiling. "He was never home, and when I started flying with him, I was never home... By that time, my mother had died already.", the Corellian adds, the smile still in place. A deep breath, "And for me, it was Almeda... Space wasn't a bride for me, no. I was quite content with my life at Agamar with her.", the young man adds. He seems to catch up, that perhaps he has said more than the other may want to hear. There is a soft chuckle and a grin, and Markus turns to Simon then. "Sorry about that, if it made you uncomfortable. But for some reason, every time I travel, I find myself thinking of Almeda.", he explains.

With the initial rush of entering space and hyperspace subsiding, Simon settles into the copilot seat. He gives the extremely unfamiliar controls in front of him a glance, then purposefully leans back and away from the knobs and buttons and light indicators. His eyes move back to Markus, and study him as he speaks.

"It does not make me uncomfortable, Markis Lisardis," Simon explains, plainly. "That it makes you uncomfortable is clear. I would not want to intrude on that which you hold secret in your heart, but I would listen if you wish to tell me your tale. It sounds like you left Almeda, not of your own choice."

"I don't mind talking to you about it.", Markus says, grinning. There is then a small shrug, "I just never talked to many people about it, I guess. I feel comfortable enough with you. ", there is a pause and the ship comes out of hyperspace, with prompts Markus to take over the controls again. After sending a transmission, he sets the course he was given and tilts his head towards Simon.

"More like Almeda left me. She died, of a strage virus...", Markus says in a soft voice, the same virus that killed his mother but he leaves that bit out for now. "I miss her, but I think I've already come to terms with her passing. She was an exceptional woman."

"If you are any reflection of her, I do not doubt it," Simon says, again in simple tones. Compliments and flowery words are not generally his style, which is probably why the words sound that much more sincere. A friendly smile, a gasp as he looks out the viewport ahead at the completely urban planet, and then, "By the Third Moon..."

If one could create a place that was exactly against Simon's nature, Coruscant would be it. Shuttles and ships and vehicles of all sorts team around the planet like bees surrounding the hive. As if they were moving into a literal giant bee hive, Simon pushes himself back into the copilot's chair as they make their descent, his eyes wide like saucers. "This... will not be pleasant."

"We will be fine.", Markus reassures Simon, a thankful expression for the other man's words. Then the Corellian falls silent, moving the ship into position and then heading for the planet that seemed to never sleep.

The ship touches down softly, and Markus sends it into the power down sequence. "I bet you Mira is asleep. She always falls asleep. I'll leave her a note. Lets meet our companion.", and with those words he heads out of the cockpit.

____________________________________________________________________________

Spaceport -- Imperial City

The Imperial City spaceport is one of a countless number of spaceports that litter the surface of Coruscant like craters on a moon. This particular spaceport, the largest, is a multistory complex built atop a triad of towers which loom over all adjacent buildings like a mythological giant. Of the spaceports myriad of hangars and areas, none is more pivotal than the CUSTOMS and Immigration area near the gated exit. Of all the other connecting accessways, most link the main spaceport with smaller, private hangars or storage areas. New Republic soldiers stand at each of these accessways, friendly and congenial, but always on the alert.

____________________________________________________________________________

The surface of Coruscant was completely covered in concrete and metal a long time before Simon, Markus, or Bazil were ever born. Beings of all sorts had come and gone over the years. History had been written and rewritten in hallowed halls and dark corners of ancient chambers. The last Jedi temple of the old order had likely been here on Coruscant, and the Republic had died and been reborn here. It was the heart of the galaxy in more ways than one, and the life-blood that pumped through it was made up of many lives.

To Simon, it was like the husk of a wrotting, dead corpse, covered in carrion and vermin crawling over each other to pick out the sickly sweet meat. As he departs the _White Ghost_, he wrinkles his nose at the mixture of fumes form the various ships, and for a moment, he looks ready to turn and run back up the ramp. They were going to find Jedi Luke Skywalker here?!?

VROOM! ... Or something. Anyways, a black skylimo screams through the air towards the starport. Or, more specifically, the White Ghost. No escort. In Coruscant, you see, you don't really need escorts. Help is always around the corner. And, as she approahces, she whirls into a careful one-eighty, and sets down right outside the freighter that just touched down. Almost instantly, the passanger compartment doors open, and Bazil trods out, alone, and saunters on over to the other ship, and offers simply, "Welcome to Coruscant." And then, Simon's expresion is noticed, "I take it this is a bit different than where you used to live." A simple, yet true, statement. Like, duh?

Bazil's understatment about the difference between Telgosse and Coruscant could conceivably be one of the greatest understatements of all time. Smirking, Simon gives Bazil a flat stare and a shake of his head, incapable of putting to words his first impression of Coruscant.

To Markus's assessment of Bazil and his flashy entrances, Simon gives no reply. Instead, he says after the mention of Mira, "Is it safe to leave her here alone? There are so many vessels in the sky. It is amazing that none have fallen upon us already."

Flashy? Ok, if you say so. It's just Bazil. Just Bazil. That has a ring to it. You know, just like 'Just Luke' or 'Just Lando'... anyways. He shrugs softly, "We can bring her along or leave her here. I've already got your ship well guarded from anyone, so you won't have to worry about that. And, each platform is shielded individually with forcefields. It's doubtful a ship'll fall on her." Blah blah blah, right? "Oh... I sent a message to Skywalker. He's sleeping right now, but hopefully we'll meet with him tomorrow. Hopefully." Hopefully. That word had been coming up a lot, lately.

Markus considers, frowning. "Well, I don't want to wake her up...", but Simon has a good point. The Corellian nods his head at Bazil's reassurances, but he still feels bad about leaving the girl. "Could you leave someone inside the ship with her? I don't want her to get afraid or anything, when she wakes up all alone. Preferably a woman.", he felt a woman as a stranger would be less intimidating for Mira.

He nods then, as he listen to the explanation of Luke's whereabouts. "Alright."

Tomorrow. A whole day, spent on this nightmarish planet of stone of unliving things. Where were the trees? Where was the green life? At least on Corellia, the birds that seemed to catch Mira's attention suggested the presence of forestation, somewhere. Frowning, Simon looks out and around at his surroundings once more, then shakes his head, swallowing hard.

"She will need her rest if she is to face this place," he says, quietly. His jaw clenches and unclenches. He looks like he's ready for some predator to suddenly appear out of every shadow. "I have a bad feeling about this place, Markus Lisardis... Bazil McKenzie. A bad feeling."

"There is a mountain," Bazil begins solemnly, in a very subdued manner, "Not far from here. The only true piece of nature left on this planet. It is serene, and closed to the general public after dusk. Her only residents are monks, who meditate on her very peak, seeking their own peace. If you would like," He pauses for a mere instant, "My friend, I might be able to arrange for you to be allowed to reside the night in one of the huts on the peak. There are very humble, with no technology. But, serene. There is no air traffic allowed over her supple lands, and it is quite nice." He recognized the fear. He had it himself the first time he arrived on Coruscant's surface. The fear that someone was waiting around the next corner, above you, behind you, to grasp you, and pull you into the depths of the dark city below. The underworld. He had been there since. Had saved several people's lives from murderers there. Had conducted in business he wished he hadn't there. And now, strangely, the city afforded him no fear, no loathing, no regrets. It was just another place to him. One that he conquered. And now, as he stands there, he almost seems confident in any motion. It was his thing. To be confident in any situation. To blend, to become part of one's surroundings. In his business, there were no buts. If you couldn't deal with any given situation, you would die. Period. From a mining asteroid, to here, and back. Thus, was his life. Thus, he had conquered. And he was tired from his efforts. Now? All he wanted was to quit it all. The past weekend had shown him that. His life was always at risk. It always would be. And for what? To save a bunch of people from death. He was getting tired of that, being a hero. Maybe it was time for someone else to step in, and take over.

Markus frowns at Simon's words but he slowly nods. He had seen enough to learn in trusting the other's 'feelings'. "Well, we could stay at the ship and wait for Skywalker to be available there, if it is better...", he suggests, but then falls quiet as Bazil offers his own suggestion on the subject.

Markus smiles, and nods. "Interesting. I wouldn't mind going to visit that place.", the Corellian admits. He looks towards the landing ramp again, though, concern showing once more. "And I'm sure Mira would enjoy it too. As long as we keep the birds away from her.", Markus comments with a soft chuckle.

"To get to an island in the middle of a river, you are going to have to cross the river twice," Simon says quietly. There is almost the sound of defeat in his voice, and his shoulders slump as if a great weight was just placed upon him. "I will go to this mountain if you wish, Bazil McKenzie... Markis Lisardis. It is not necessary for my part, though. I will face my fears here.

He pauses as a ship of an interesting design passes over head. His eyes follow it toward the horizon, trying to imagine it as a giant bird. It didn't seem to help. "Where is it that the Jedi Luke Skywalker stays? One such as he must take to a place where life is rich and full. He must."

A smile prominantely focuses over Bazil's face, and he nods. The man before him is wise, definately. More wise than any he had met before in his lifetime, "Master Skywalker... I'm not sure where he stays. But he is modest. I do not doubt that he resides near the palace..." He pauses for a split-second, realizing something that they, probably, do not, "Where his sister and her husband live." He really didn't know where Luke lived. He normally didn't even talk with Luke, or keep up on his matters. That was beyond his scope of work. What the Jedi Master did was his business, not Intel's. "And, it is entirely up to you whether you would like to take up residency on the mountain for the evening... I just want you to be... comfortable."

Well, although Markus has been more used lately to the countryside, in terms of living; he is not against visiting the city for a while. He looks at Simon, respectful. He understands the other one's needs to face his fears, the Corellian in a way was doing the same. When Simon asks about Luke, curiosity marks the man's expression and he waits for the answer from Bazil. There is a nod, at the response. Based on what Markus himself had heard about the man, modesty as a trait in him wasn't surprising.

What was surprising though, is the fact about the sister and husband. "Sister?", Markus can't help but ask, obviously the man is not very familiar with what has been happening lately in the galaxy.

Sister. Well, Luke Skywalker was a Jedi, not a _Selas_. It was the _Selas_ way to lose all familial relations, and he couldn't expect the Jedi order to match it. Still, it dashed some of his hopes in finding an actual haven amidst this hellish place. Were it Luke Skywalker's home, it could conceivably be a place a _Selas_ or a Jedi would choose. Being his sister's... it could be anything.

"Perhaps we should not trouble the local people with a guard," Simon says, looking back up at the _White Ghost_. "I would not make you stay behind if you wish to explore this place, but I believe I would be of more use left with the ship, to watch over Mira's sleeping form. She does not care for strangers."

"I can wait.", Markus responds, grinning. "I'm not in a rush to explore the place, and I can go later on if needed. I'm more interested in waiting for Skywalker right now.", the Corellian admits, absently scratching his head. He looks at Simon wondering, "Is it permitted for you to teach others about your culture and practices? I don't want to intrude, if it isn't, but I admit that the I'm curious about it.", a chuckle then, "My father used to say that I was a seeker of knowledge. I never understood why. I consider myself simply curious.

"But as I said, if you rather not talk about it, that's quite alright.", Markus repeats, to make sure his friend doesn't misunderstand his words.

Simon blinks, surprised at Markus's question. It's not that it was so unusual, exactly. He'd asked of many people's heritage, in order to help himself become more like those that existed around him. None had really inquired too deeply into his own heritage, however, and there potentially two answers he could give. The first dealt with the matters that every child of Telgosse knew, the second dealt with a heritage that only the _Selas_ carried with them, and with shame and sorrow.

"There is much that I could tell you of my people, but it is a mixed matter as to where to begin," Simon explains. That his mind is now no longer dwelling on the terror that is Coruscant is only a minor relief, as he prepares himself to talk of things he'd not talked of before. "Is it the Telgosse that you wish to know of, or is it what I was born into at the failure of my Rite of Adulthood?"

"Rite of Adulthood?", Markus muses, a bit confused at first. He absently scratches stubs of his beard, and manages a smile. "We can start with the Telgosse, and then talk about the second one if you are comfortable with it.", the Corellian offers. He seems pleases and relieved that Simon didn't take offense at his question. Privacy was something very important for Markus himself, and although he didn't mind sharing his experiences with his companion, he wasn't expecting the other to feel the same way.

"And if you have any questions about my people, or our culture and traditions, I'll try to answer as best as I can.", the young man adds after a moment. A chuckle, and he shrugs. "I may not be a scholar, but I've picked a few things here and there.