(( OOC THREAD Anyone wants any lines changed, namely Garrick - lemmie know.))

The systems bright blue sun dawned as it eclipsed the atmosphere, lighting up the invisible barrier - a new day. The occlusion was spectacular from orbit; the nearby purple and pink nebulae overshadowing the system brought, to the sheer illumination of, the beauty of the planet out more so than most paintings could render - such a shame so much scrap and debris in orbit from the recent battle, though they did sparkle like blue lights as the sun hit them at the greatest angle, while low-orbit or low-velocity remains would enter the atmosphere at such an angle to create long-tailed off-blue comets, before hitting the water - thankful the planet was 79% water and the chance for the only body of civilization to be hit by something that could pierce the shield wouldn't come from anything but an ion cannon or heavier.

A young Twi'leks blue eyes reflected back the glass image of her blue skin as she looked outwards to the plot laid before her, fingers latched onto the window frame as she brought her height up the few inches she needed to observe outside. It was a shame so many lights were on or it would be a perfect picture, more so the pity she didn't possess anything capable of taking the scene other than her own two eyes. Ultimately, her day had lead to this point; First, an arrival short of spectacular in the early morning, when she heard they'd be travelling to Reideti she was overjoyed - she'd read about the 'new worlds' as they were dubbed and how this particular one had the best view of the galaxy at night - sure the pictures were clearer in orbit, but the way the atmosphere interacted with the nebulae really made you swoon - or so she'd read. Garrick, of course was on a schedule (or so he claimed) and whatever it was he was hauling to the new colony was 'so very needed' supplies or some such, his charity would know no bounds, but would set a price of course. At least they were one-step closer to establishing the funds to pay off whatever new debt he'd accumulated - of this, he had a bad habit.

Secondly and within hours of finally making some money; air raid sirens, uniformed officers yelling, people panicking, where to go, who to shove and when to duck. Some even stayed topside to enjoy a bit of looting, while civilian police fought off would-be bandits and sacrificed their own protection. A whole day of not getting what you'd like gets tiring fast, more so to a young lady. Joi propped her ample cheek in her hand and leant forward, packed like sardines in a tin before being lead en masse to a small group of shuttles, shipped to 'safety' of the smallest ship of the fleet. Garrick, of course couldn't stop complaining about having to leave his own ship behind, with any luck that exchange of money to one of the officers would see his ship in the cargobay shortly.

She'd gotten a window seat, at least - even if she was too short for it. "Sit down." Garrick spoke from across the shuttle, a bar like something from some kind of rollercoaster down around his shoulders - which restrained him and many others in place for the journey. She turned and bent her knees, tucking one leg after the other beneath the bar that was supposed to be holding her in place, but she was too small for. One hand after the other scooped her tails gently from behind her back to a more comfortable position as she gave him a brief smile, then looked over the other people who were being evacuated. Many quiet, some talking about worries but the closest conversation of note was moreover  on the current situation.

Two fleets in orbit - One Republic Reserve Fleet pitted against an Assault Fleet of the Imperial Remnant - currently holding fire on one another for some unknown reason, maybe the Republic was handing over the planet? Reguardless there was a ceasefire in effect for some reason and everyone but the leadership would know why. Were they in violation of the shaky treaty between the two by colonizing the planet? Adults talked about the situation - the colony worlds were on the 'frontlines', if there was such a thing during relative peace. A gruff voice speaks up after nearly laughing at one of the comments of the youngsters. "We're lucky." He began, not letting himself become interrupted by the youth. "I heard there was another engagement far larger - the main Republic fleet hit the Imperial's reserves and logistics, that's why they ain't shooting, neither of them has backup. Imperials can win this fight, but it'd cost em' and they'd be cut-off." He nodded, seemingly everyone didn't question his opinion, not out loud anyway.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted movement in the window just behind Garricks head - it was some kind of transport originating from the much bigger warship, she didn't know the names of them but she watched regardless until Garricks fat head got in the way, anyway. She frowned softly at him and then averted her gaze. It wasn't long until they were released from the onfinement of the transport ships, but were limited to the hangar - not nearly enough crew quarters, apparently. "I heard the Jedi are handling some kind of deal." Someone spoke up, trying to keep quiet Joi immediately took interest and looked to Garrick, then dancing on the spot as she tugged his arm and brought her legs together slightly in her trousers, her top - again, looked way too baggy for her. Today it was a fairly simple 'travel' package of clothes, a warm white jumper thrown over one of her shirts and grey baggy trousers that would drag slightly around her shoes.

"I need to pee." She told Garrick, bringing him to groan inwardly and look about. "And <i>no</i> I can't hold it." She told him flatly as she bobbed back and fourth in a small display of ootwork while he pressed his hand to his brow, another tug of his arm before he turned it over and grasped her hand, making his way through the crowd.

"Alright, alright." He grumbled, muttering to the people he waded through with apologies to each of them as they stepped aside. One of the troopers adorned in some kind of light marine armour stepped up upon noticing Garrick and the small girl he was dragging behind him, holding his weapon in a way you would while on guard but not concerned for enemies. He raised the hand that was holding Joi, pulling her aside him. "She needs to go toilet." The trooper took a quick glance her way as she tried not to jig so obviously. Garrick looked a bit embarrassed as the armoured fighter turned to someone of seniority and talked briefly between them, the trooper moving to open the door to a long corridor - much in the same lighting as the hangar it was bright and very clean looking. The Sergeant - or whatever the patches were on his arm approached.

"Last door on the right, we'll be watching." He backed off and waved them through the small group of soldiers, her companion then moving forward with the girl in toe - now her curiosity was overwhelming as she gazed left and right and seemed to be unable to keep up with his pace. The door closed behind them, causing the Twi'lek to look back and then to the corners - searching for a blind spot.. She stopped and tugged him.

"I lied - let's find the Jedi and explore." She announced - not even waiting for his confirmation or repute as she walked towards one of the doors of the white hall, leaning in to look left and right before entering the rather lush looking meeting room - likely one of many.

Re: Star Wars: Lost Souls

The soft violin was playing a redeeming song, full of hope and honor and all that is good. Willem was standing at the far end from it, at the altar, and yet it sounded as if the violin player was right in his ear, playing its melody very skillfully. The Commodore wore his uniform proudly, and so did most of his guests for this occasion. The woman in front of him, with hair as red as the Valerian sun, wore an elegant and beautiful white dress that made her look like an angel in Willem’s eyes. Clasping her hands, he smiled bright as the setting sun was creating a beautiful atmosphere for his wedding. Elina chuckled, feeling the simple band on his finger with her own fingertip, and then receiving the same simple touch to her own. Her eyes were beautiful, Willem thought as he felt the skin of her palms. I am absolutely in love.

The preacher said something in finality, and Willem knew it was time. He leaned forward, anticipating this moment for almost six whole months, and now it was finally here for him. She was too, it s seemed, as she leaned forward with him, meeting him halfway between their bodies, lips locking. He could taste her, and he became more alive than he ever had, as the people cheered them for this kiss, clapping in celebration of a beautiful moment between two lovers. The wind picked up, and her dress flowed with it, creating a beautiful picture…

And then a red flash. Willem pulled away by the surprise of it, as the audience’s cheering was now screaming, their bodies being torn apart or leaking blood out of their orifices. They were screaming in pain, some in the odd pleasure of it, and all were marked by blood. The preacher disintegrated into the wind as the beautiful sunset became a horrifying blood red sunset, with storms of lightning all around.  Willem turned his head to Elina and almost threw up; her eyes were missing. He could see through the holes where the eyes should be, like keyholes made of skin and blood, and as blood dripped from them she grabbed him by the neck, pushing him against the altar. When she spoke, however, it was a calm tone, and her words were easily understandable.

“There will be death, son of the Stars. Strive for victory, and earn death. Strive for survival, and earn life. Choose, son of the Stars.”

She leaned in, mouth open, creating a horrible sucking sound as Willem began to shiver, before he heard a voice, concerned.

“Admiral?”

Willem opened his eyes to see his new adjutant, Captain Traven Dunn, leaning in front of him, eyes filled with concern and confusion.

“Sorry, Traven…had a…” He didn’t want to say nightmare; that was a bad omen to just speak it. “Odd dream. How far out are we?”

“Fifteen minutes, sir.” He said, slowly sitting back down in front of him, looking back to his datapad. Willem took his own eyes to his private datapad and re-activated it, his fingers moving through the touch screen to access important information regarding the opposing negotiators. Willem sighed. Circ Reytal. He had not the pleasure of meeting him in person yet, but he knew of the man’s political dealings. Passionate, ambitious, idealistic and smart. The Jedi accompanying him was a loose cannon, but he could deal with that later.

“Did you see who the diplomat team is?”

“I did.” Traven replied, looking up from his datapad. “Should I be concerned?”

“Not really.” He added, looking back at the Group Captain. He liked Traven as a man; it was hard to find honor in the Imperial Navy anymore, but he still couldn’t trust him fully. He wasn’t a Patriot, he was part of Dodonna’s Navy, and ever since Janus left his immediate command he had become slightly more paranoid about other officers being assigned to his command.

He looked to his right, to see the four man security detail that was going with them. The three stormtroopers wore their helmets to conceal their faces, but their commander did not. Antonius Maarco wore only a comlink that was on his ear, allowing him to talk to the rest of the team if needed. He sat silently in his seat next to the Moff, quiet in front of Traven. Willem smirked a little, looking back to Traven.

“Circ’s one of those diplomats who the New Republic sends to try to appeal to our good side. Human, outstanding ethics…Don’t fall for the rhetoric traps some of these New Republic diplomats try to use.” The Moff of Muunilinst and now Admiral of one of Dodonna’s Expeditionary Fleets said, taking a small flask out of one of his uniform coat pockets and putting it to his lips, drinking some of the liquid within before he quickly turned the flask’s top back on, his eyes looking to Dunn.

“What’s the plan in dealing with the Rebels, sir?” Dunn asked, taking his datapad and placing it on his lap. Willem smiled; he was beginning to learn more and more about Traven every day, especially when he saw him flinch when he said Coruscant and not Imperial Center.

“We open with a quick offer. Complete POW swap. If he says yes, no, counteroffers, then that will tell us how to react accordingly.” He spoke with a knowing tone; he had been in a few of these situations when the New Republic demanded certain goods from Muunilinst and questioned his close relation with the Banking Clan. Looking to his datapad, he recalled the frightening nightmare he had only minutes prior, and he recalled the prophetic words from the vision of his deceased wife.

She had always said that, in his dreams, before  something horrible. She had said it before Isard’s massive Super Star Destroyer ripped through the surface of Coruscant, before the destruction of High Port, and before even more battles that had resulted in many deaths. To say Willem was worried about the outcome of this mission was a vast understatement.

He was absolutely terrified.

Re: Star Wars: Lost Souls

“I don’t have time for you fuzz brained Jedi and your 'feelings’!”

 Security Chief Flemmings was clearly one of those individuals who did not believe in the force, or feelings. Ralana had been suspect to the fact before, but it was solidified when he used his fingers as quotation marks as he mentioned the world feelings. She could fully understand why people didn’t believe in the Force, it was simple ignorance, but why they’d get so upset when she offered her help was beyond her. The Jedi had been quite polite about it, but regardless Flemmings face was becoming redder by the second as he continued his rant while the woman simply suppressed a sigh.

“I’m busy enough trying to keep in line all of the frightened passenger’s down in the hanger bay, clearing security codes for incoming space craft, guarding the prisoners, and preparing my men for the fact than an Imperial shuttle of all things will be arriving in a few minutes. Oh! And lets not forget that a Moff of some sort will be aboard too! Yes, I have a bad feeling about our current situation’ Miss Jedi, but I don’t need the force or some recently potty trained girl telling me that she has felt ‘a disturbance in the force’, or whatever hokey line you’re trying to sell me. And I definitely don’t need you going around scaring those limp livered pansies who actually believe you’re some sort of great mystic. Last thing we need is a panic on our-” Flemming was forced to stop his rapid spout of why he shouldn’t listen to her when Ralana spoke above him.

“If I was trying to create a panic or stupid enough to do so I wouldn’t have pulled you off to the side away from your men; though, I am sure by now your elevated voice has drawn quite a few looks.”

“Oh, don’t you sass me missy! When you were still in diapers I was busy rebelling against those good for nuthin’ Imps you’re bringing aboard this vessel. Put a robe on you, give you a laser stick, and teach you some mystic rhymes and you kids think that you’ve got the right to be givin’ experienced soldiers advice.”

“I wouldn’t dream of sassing you Chief Flemmings. I’m just wary, more so than I should be, of our situation. I’m trying to explain my Jedi premonitions and their credibility.”

“JEDI PREMONITIONS,” he shrieked while throwing his arms up, “my swollen, grunting petunia. Listen here sweet cheeks, what you’re babbling about isn’t Jedi premonition its female intuition. I’ve been stationed on this vessel for the past twenty years. I know this ship from her insides to her outsides. My men trust me more than their own pappies. I don’t know what station you get off at, but-” He was interrupted a second time, but this time not with words.

Ralana had placed a hand on his shoulder focusing on the force and sending tendrils of calming energy into the man’s body. Perhaps this was an almost mean trick to pull on the Security Chief, but the woman was starting to worry if she didn’t do something quick his head would come spinning off. Smiling softly at him she spoke, “Chief Flemmings, I am didn’t mean any disrespect, and I’m sorry if it came off that way. Premonitions to a Jedi are very important, and sometimes in my youth I forget my tact.” She paused sensing that the man had become much more calm both through the force and because his cheeks were more human colored than before. “Something is going to happen that isn’t good. I’m not sure what it is, but I felt like I would be betraying your trust if I didn’t share what I knew with you. After all we are on the same side right?”

The man’s deep brown eyes just stared at the girl, burrowing into her. Though he was calmer the Chief was no purring kitten, his rugged scowl was still ever present on his face. But, then again Ralana wondered if that was how he looked all time.

“Yes, I suppose we are.” He simply said before going to brush her hand off his shoulder. “And, apology accepted. At least you’re polite enough to keep my men and I in the know…or…should I say in your feelings.”

“Wonderful.” Ralana said with a light smile knowing that this reaction was going to be the best she was going to get. “I’m assuming we’re running constant scans for new ships entering our area of space, and that you’re men are looking closely at the passengers boarding the ship?”

“Yes.”

The two looked at each other for a long moment in silence. Clearly the Jedi was waiting for a longer answer than what the man was giving, and the older gentleman didn’t want to go into details. He didn’t really feel like he needed to. As they passed the ten second mark of awkward silence Flemmings leaned forward finally going to speak, “We are…” he whispered.

“Well wonderful, clearly the captain was right you and your men are the best.” She bowed to the man, “Thank you for listening to my concern Chief Flemmings. I’ll be on my way unless you need me for-…” Her voice trailed noting that the man was already walking away. Slowly she went to stand up seeing the older, white haired gentleman wave her off.

“You’re Welcome,” he yelled still not glancing back at her as he continued on his way.

Tilting her head to the side as she watched him meet up with three of his men, all security officers, who had been staring at them the entire time. It was odd how Flemmings could bounce between being a man of few words, and spouting off rants. Well, at the very least he listened. Turning around on the heel of her leather boot the woman went to walk back out into the open corridor. She was thankful that the Force had led her to the Security Chief while he was out patrolling with his men. The Jedi had been looking for both him and the Captain earlier, but unfortunately the later was indisposed. Ralna would have to speak with him later, and perhaps then she would have a better understanding of her feeling of uneasiness. It was more than the Imperials being onboard. Strangely enough having members of the Empire there on the ship for the talks didn’t bring up her concern at all, it was something more elusive.

As she walked the edges of her long, white robe fluttered open revealing that she was by no means wearing the traditional garb of the Jedi Order from long ago, save for the leather boots and utility belt. Ralana had always found the clothing constricting when it came to battle, and  bulky. Instead she wore a blue and grey form fitting   jumpsuit which allowed for greater mobility. Were it not for the robe, and the light saber that lay on her right hip one may have mistaken the young raven haired female for just another passenger. Brushing back a strand of loose hair behind her ear, the woman turned the corner approaching Ambassador Circ as he was exiting his room.

“Ah, Ralana there you are.” Circ said happily as he moved into the hallway, two members of his entourage standing on either side of him. To the left was a female Twi’lek, his own advisor, and to his right a young human male sectary. “Did you find the Captain?”

“No, unfortunately he was unable to speak with me. I met up with Chief Flemmings.”

“Oh, and how did that go?”

The woman took pause for a moment, “Relatively well.”

“Relatively?”

She smiled weakly, “Flemmings doesn’t regard the Force as…in existence. But, he did listen to me.”

“Ah, well good. I hope speaking with him has put you more at ease.”

“A little yes., but we should still be cautious.”

“Now young Master Jedi, we have you, the military here, and we are on the brink of making history. We should not let caution blind us to the importance of this moment in itself. We are making peace with our long time adversary, and leading the way towards the end of a war. Truly, we are saving a great many lives. Both sides are together in this, I doubt the Empire will try to stop it they need peace just as much as we do.”

“I doubt they will as well Circ; that is what worries me.”

“Oh?”  The Ambassador was about to inquire further when the human male interrupted him.

“Sir, perhaps we should continue this conversation on the way to met the Imperials.”

“Oh right, right. Ralana while you were gone we received a message that the shuttle should be arriving in ten minutes or so. I suggested we meet our guests, its only polite they be welcomed by smiling faces instead of soldiers.”

“That it is Ambassador.” Ralana stated going to walk with the man. For now she would push the uneasiness aside, even if the Security Chief was a faltering alley the Jedi would always have the Force on her side.

Re: Star Wars: Lost Souls

Corbin was mildly interested in his ball, just continuing to throw it up into the air and then catch it on its descent. His strong fingers gripped the ball easily, turning it in his hand before he threw it back up. Suited up in case the alarm went off, Corbin enjoyed the lull between being ready to jump into his E-Wing and the comfort of being off duty. He had his flight perform small unit drills, but now they had to wait for one more hour and then they were off duty, unless something extraordinary happened and the Imperials attacked. He threw it back up and gripped it, humming to himself as he looked over to the Holonews.

“Anything interesting on the ‘net?” He asked out loud.

A slim, unclothed arm extended out from behind the slender framed female, a long white ciggarra danced in-between her delicate fingers before tapping some loose ashes from the paper roll into a drinking glass on the table next to her.

 "Just more…moment of history bantha crap…" The red haired pilot Morgan, otherwise known as Edge, muttered bitterly before bringing her god back to her lips and inhaling deeply. Unlike Corbin she wasn't completely ready to go, she was only really wearing the orange pants of the New Republic Uniform. The shirt part of the jump suit was hanging down on her hips, and currently the girl was only wearing a scantily clad tank top showing off a couple her back tattoos, tribal designs of some sort.

 “Pfft, that’s a load of gundark shit. They said that when Leia passed that silly bill about alien animal endangerment protection on that one planet…shit, I can’t remember.” Corbin started, turning his head to the pilot as he grabbed the ball and tossed it again, passing the time.

“They toss that around for every military engagement too. Turn it to the Imperial Holonews network; I bet you a pack of cigarras that they’re saying the exact same thing.” It was a bet, and a challenge; Corbin loved to play these little games with Edge. Half of the time, he’d take away her smokes, and it made the air breathable again.

The red haired woman narrowed her eyes and then looked back at him and arched a brow, "How many packs of Cigarras do you have Starlight?" A Slow smirk appeared on her lips,

"And it better not be any of that cheap crap you carry around in that piece of junk you like to call a ship."

“I got your favorite.” Corbin smirked, holding the pack up from a pocket, quickly zipping it back up as he pulled out a flask, sitting back up on his rear, unable to not smile at her.

 “And my ship is not a piece of junk.” He was somewhat protective of his E-Wing, the same one that had pulled him out of many hotspots throughout the years. He couldn’t imagine flying without it; he had grown very close to his snubfighter.

“You’re just jealous I know how to make it purr.”

She perched her lips looking between the blonde haired, blue eyed and the pocket where the cigarras was. Morgan popped her own Cig into her mouth debating now. "Blah, purring…sure that’s what it’s called." Turning back around to face the holotube the woman debated for a moment before picking up the controller.

"Fine, pixy…you gotta deal then. We'll see if they're saying the same thing…just remember how pissy I get without my cigs though."

 “Good evening, I’m Chip Vertical, and this is the Imperial News Network.” The flawless human newsman said, looking straight into the camera. Corbin shook his head; it was hard to see just a single human doing the news on any channel. He had often seen a Mon Cal or a Twi’lek on the Republic propaganda channel. “The New Republic is attempting to off-set Imperial actions in the Lower Arm of the Galaxy by concocting a peace treaty. They call it a moment of history; we don’t. We go live to Vash in the field. V —“Corbin growled. “Frak.” He said, hanging his head as he pulled out the cigarras and handed them to her. “Lucky.”

Morgan laughed turning around and grabbing the pack of cigarras from her wing man. "That’s me sweets." Quickly pulling the cig out of from her lips and tossing it to the floor the woman went to quickly open up the new pack.

"So, are you going to be selfish per usual, or are you gonna pour me a drink too hmm? You need to spend less time drinking by yourself and more time with the ladies you know that?"

“Ladies. Hah. Come on, Edge, you know me. I like to drink, not frak.” He leaned over the side of the chair, in empty space as he pulled out a small collapsible cup and poured conservatively, handing it to her. “I don’t like to hand out ‘Corbin’s Private Reserve’, you know that. I’d rather have someone drink bantha piss than that Onderon brandy you’re sipping.” He said, rubbing his fingers together as he took a more than liberal drink from his flask.

"I'm not saying you have to like it Pixy…" She turned around now going to sit backwards on the metal chair, and using the back as an armrest she took the glass from him. "And didn't your mother ever teach you share? Hmm? Like a good little boy." Quickly Morgan knocked back the drink sitting the empty glass down on the table before going to light up a new cig.

“Haha, my mother was a bitch, thank you very much. It was like living with a banshee. Kind of like you, except a smaller ass and much more whining.” He said, chuckling. “No offense.” He added as a little joke, taking the flash again and pouring some more in the glass for her as he brought it back up to his lips and gulped, taking in the brandy.

“That’s good.” He said to himself, in a low voice. Being a professional drunkard, in his own words, he had been blessed with a tongue that could pick out very good alcohol from the very bad.

She took another long drag of the ciggarra taking a moment to relish the taste. His sin might be the alcohol, but hers it was the cigs…she couldn't imagine life without them. "Please Corbin…I'm a well-bred bitch…" Grinning she pulled out her cig tossing back the second glass. "So none taken." The woman paused looking over him for moment thinking.

"And you're right it is. Not as cheap tasting as I would expected coming out of your paycheck." She winked at him putting the glass down.

"Haha, oh you wound me. Don't talk like you know what good alcohol is." He said, screwing the lid back on his flask and setting it in his flight pocket; the last thing he needed to do was get tipsy before a potential flight.

Morgan tilted her head to side looking over at Corbin, "Oh what? You're my daddy now Corbin?" She smirked rolling the ciggarra to the other side of her lips with her tongue before brushing back from loose strands of red hair from her blue green eyes. "But, let’s be serious for once…what do you think about this whole…well treaty thing?"

"Fraking stupid. We've been fighting them for 16 years on a full scale war, and we've been making treaties like these for 16 years. The Imperials need to give up or we need to give up. I really don't care either way." The pilot stated, leaning back as he spoke his thoughts honestly and crassly. He looked to her. "And you?"

The woman blinked actually finding herself surprised at the other pilot's words. "Well Starlight…those are harsh words." She leaned forward pulling the paper roll out of her mouth and tapping the ashes of the burning end into the empty glass. "Look, I think this treaty thing is silly as well…" She paused thinking for a moment, "But, I'll be damned if we give up and those pompous bastards win. I'm not saying the Republic is some great government, but like hell I'm going to let some stuck up poor ass Imperial male tell me I'm a lower class citizen because I lack certain pipes…"

"No, they wouldn't tell you that. You're a pilot. They'd probably just kill you." He stated simply, as a matter of fact almost. He had heard horror stories of pilots who were captured, and although he was scared of the thought of being captured, he definitely wasn't scared of dying. "And you're idealistic, too. Just give it two years, it'll sink in and you'll be like me. I'm pretty sure that's a scarier thought than letting the Imperials win." He chuckled, smiling.

The woman smirked looking down at the floor, "I'm not idealistic Corbin…please." She shifted her weight bit thinking for a minute wondering exactly what she was. "It's not idealism when you know what you deserve." Morgan looked up at him with a devious smirk, "Hell, I've been bucking my own parents for what I deserve…don't think I'll walk all over some stranger."

"Haha, very true. I forget how much of a badass you are." He chuckled, being facetious again before sighing and moving back to the couch. A big smile was on his lips as he took out his ball and began to toss it up and down as he sat down, looking towards her. "I'm just cynical, I guess. It's the same old same old; different government, different reason, same lies and good people die, on both sides. In two years, regardless of the outcome of this treaty, we'll be at each other's throats again. Like how you’ll get drunk, get touchy feeling, next morning you’re a bitch again.” He smirked.

She pointed her cig in his direction, "Don't think I don't know when you're teasing me." Morgan watched him again before looking back at the holoviewer. "And…unfortunately you're right. It's the survival of the fittest…whatever the hell that means." In her case it meant being a Kane, and being extremely self centered. "You know…when this is over we need to go out partying…I could show you the right way to do it."

"Haha, nice try." Corbin hoped he was reading too far into her words. "I'm not a party kind of guy. Too old anyway." He chuckled, before his smirk became just a normal, detached look he had been adopting lately.

 "You know what, I'm going to drift off. This peace treaty gundark shit is giving me a headache. Wake me up if something important happens…" He said, blinking slowly now as he rested his back against the fluffy couch.

"Yeah, sure Starlight…" Morgan said watching him before shaking her head and looking back at the holoviewer and flipping the channel again. This was going to be a long day…

Re: Star Wars: Lost Souls

As their shuttle got the clearance to land from the rebel ship’s flight control, Traven wished that he could be in the cockpit. Not that he did not trust their helmsperson. Lieutenant Drath was a capable pilot, chosen by Traven himself. Nevertheless the Group Captain would prefer to have something to do. He was a man of action, not a diplomat.  But he was also a soldier, who respected and followed the orders of his superior officers. Admiral Dodonna wanted him on this mission. So there he was. Sitting in front of the former Moff now also Admiral von Aath and his bodyguard Maarco, Traven showed the perfect picture of a stoic officer. Almost twenty years in the service of the Imperial Navy had taught him well to hide his true emotions. Just very few people were allowed to take a look behind his mask.

To avoid conversation Traven pretended to read the files on his datapad again. He had known the details already before their shuttle had left the <i>Ravisher</i>, but it gave him time to ponder the situation. Earlier he had seen the debris and wreckages of their fighters first hand as he had flown his own TIE Interceptor through the battle field in the orbit of the planet. Traven knew that they needed the peace treaty. Maybe even more than the rebels did. After the fall of Imperial Center their roles had been reversed. Nobody better than the Group Captain himself knew that they were running out of pilots. Their new recruits had become younger and less experienced over the last months. Traven and the squadron leaders under his command tried to give them a good training, but often there were simply no time. He blamed the rebels for this ongoing war. Hopefully the Empire wouldn’t have to pay a too high price for peace.

They could hear the sound as the landing gear of the shuttle extended, then touched down. Traven rose off his seat, tugging his black uniform jacket down with one smooth move. Von Aath got up as well. “Ready, Captain?”  Traven nodded. “Yes, Sir. May I suggest that one of the troopers will stay with the pilot on the shuttle? I do not want the rebels to… explore our transport.” The Admiral changed a look with Marco, who agreed. “I was about to recommend that myself.” Von Aath started to walk to the ramp, leading into the rebel hangar. “Then we’ll do it.”

Maarco and Traven were one step behind the Admiral, framing him to the right and left side. The troopers followed them. They carried their standard BlasTech E-11 blaster rifles, while their Commander had a WESTAR-M5 blaster rifle. Traven had his own BlasTech DH-17 blaster pistol, the sidearm most of the Imperial naval officers used.  He knew that their weapons were no match to a ship of fully equipped rebels, but if the invitation was a trap, Traven and especially Maarco and his men would make sure that they would take as much rebels as possible with them.

A man in an expensive suit, accompanied by a young dark-haired woman, entered the hangar. Right behind them was an annoyed looking man. His uniform made clear that he was the chief of security. That explained the look on his face as he noticed the Imperial weaponry. Traven smirked slightly about it. The first test of the rebels’ own diplomatic skills. The chief seemed to murmur something to the man in charge, who shook his head, disagreeing with the obvious suggestion of the officer. Instead he addressed the Imperial delegation.

“Admiral von Aath, it is a pleasure to meet you in person finally.” He said, offering a handshake. “I’m Circ Reytal.” The Admiral took the offered hand, shaking it firmly. “The pleasure is on my side, Ambassador. Please meet my adjutant, Group Captain Traven Dunn.” Traven bowed his head towards the ambassador, just low enough to be not impolite.

Reytal looked almost amicable as he smiled at Traven. “Welcome on board, Captain.” Traven’s upper-class education came to his help as he replied with a smile as fake as the one of the ambassador. “Thank you for the arrangement of the meeting, Sir.”

The diplomat turned around to the young woman, who was watching them silently. “Admiral, Captain, may I introduce you to Jedi Knight Ralana. She will attend our negotiation.” On the first look she seemed to be just a crew member in a jump suit, but the lightsaber at her utility belt gave away her true occupation. Admiral Willem von Aath greeted her friendly. The older man had seen the Jedi in their prime, obviously he didn’t share the prejudices most of the younger Imperial officers had. Like his own adjutant.

Traven bowed as low as before, wondering if the Jedi witch already tried to read their minds. It would be an unpleasant surprise for her that neither the Admiral nor he were weak-minded. Not even Commander Maarco as a trooper fitted into that pattern.

“Let us go to the meeting room.” Reytal made an inviting gesture towards the inner ship. The Admiral walked next to the ambassador. Traven followed them, not thrilled that the Jedi was next to him.

Gladly just a few more hours and this was over.

Re: Star Wars: Lost Souls

The Jedi intently studied each Imperial as they stepped aboard the ship. She wanted to memorize this moment, keep it locked away in the depths of her mind. No matter how things turned out, Ralana knew that these few seconds were a key point to their history–the beginning of a new era. The revelation was no secret; the propaganda of this meeting was all over the holonet, although she wasn’t sure how many bought into it. The ambassador did. He seemed certain that this meeting was going to be something that children of the galaxy would read about for centuries, and it excited him. Ralana wasn’t excited, instead she was more sober. The Force was still tugging at her, telling her to be wary.

A soft smile easily hid any worry the woman had when she was introduced to Willem von Aath, and his companions, all of who were well armed. Even the Admiral himself had an ornate blaster pistol on his uniform belt. This was a risky venture for all of them, but continuing the war wasn't an option if the galaxy were to survive. They would have to earn the others trust. Ralana wasn’t sure how difficult that would be until she had turned her attention to Captain Dunn. Though the well groomed  Imperial Captain bowed low and appeared polite, the Jedi could tell his courtesy belied his true feelings towards her. Offering him another small smile the Jedi returned the bow before rising to follow the Moff and Circ out of the hanger.

Ralana found the tension between Dunn and herself distracting. Perhaps it was the mere fact he was an Imperial on a Rebel ship, or maybe he was of the same nature as the Chief. Either way the woman decided she should solicit some sort of peace offering. As Ralana attempted to search the man’s feelings she gathered her thoughts formulating the start of a conversation, “Forgive me Captain if I am being too bold, but I must complement you on your flight record. It’s quite exceptional.”

“Thank you, Miss. My flight record shows just that your pilots couldn't kill me yet.”

“I think it shows much more than that if I may say so." She was speaking of his achievements as a youth, and even at Cardia. Yes, the rebels knew some of what he had done and she had read what reports they had on like she was certain he did her. Still, she wanted to see if she could engage him more, "I find myself envious of those like you."

He gave a slight frown, "Those like us? You mean… normal people?"

She was unable to stop herself from smirking at his response. Ralana was positive he hadn’t meant the comment as a joke, but found the remark too humorous not to be. “Having your skill at flying a space craft is far from normal Captain.”

Traven wasn't sure if she implied something with her compliment. "Yes, it has been what I am good at. The right skills with the best training." He didn't look at her as he added. "We Imperial pilots do not need the Force to be far from normal."

The Jedi was sure she detected a hint of irritation in his voice as the tension was clearly still there. Obviously he placed little value on the Force, and was he even mocking it? It seemed that him and the security Chief would get along great. “And neither do many New Republic pilots.”

“No?" He raised an eye-brow, playing surprised. "I thought there was a whole Jedi squadron." He waited to see if she would give out more information.

The woman looked over at the well groomed man thinking for a long moment, “Do you really believe everything you hear about us Jedi, Captain Dunn?”

"I believe in very few things, Miss. Especially not in ancient religions. But I know some facts about your people." After all Traven had served under Lord Vader on the Executor. He knew what a force user was capable to do.

Oh? And what facts are those if I may ask?"

"Confidential ones, Miss," He smirked.

“Wise answer Captain.” Ralana stated glancing ahead at the Moff and Circ who were both busy in their own conversation, whatever that might be. Soon they would be nearing the meeting room, and begin the talks. Though the tension had seemed to lessen as they spoke it didn’t disappear. Clearly whatever it was the man had against Jedi was deep rooted, and a simple conversation wouldn’t wash it away. And so Ralana decided that she would be a little daring, "I do hope my presence here doesn't upset you."

"Of course not, Miss." Traven lied easily. "I hope mine doesn't upset you."

She smiled at him, "Certainly not. Why would it?"

"I have no idea." They arrive the door to the meeting room. He let her enter first, showing the true manners of a gentleman such as himself.


Show-off.

The word flashed through Willem’s mind as he heard the Ambassador talk about the ship, something Imperial Intelligence had already informed him plenty on as they walked through various bulkheads on the vessel. His mind was trying to piece together the man and not the distracting speech about the vessel. He kept his ear and nodded when appropriate, but he was beginning to focus solely on Circ.

Fancy suit. Definitely something a little more out of Willem’s tastes but it must be professional enough to be allowed for the diplomatic core; what Willem noticed was that the fabric of the suit was pristine. He either took good care of it or had someone else take good care of it. Willem’s uniform, the simple uniform suit with his rank badge, was not exactly as full colored as it once was, but it was definitely well kept for.

“Yes, a fine ship.” He said, looking around for a moment before looking back to Circ. He felt it better if he let him do the talking. He could hear Dunn and the Jedi talk to each other, but he had no idea as to what.

Finally, they reached the briefing room itself. Circ allowed Willem to walk in first, and the Admiral obliged.

Ralana gave the dark haired Imperial Captain a small smile before entering the meeting room after the Moff and the Ambassador. Her attention was slowly shifting from the pilot to the two older gentlemen. What stuck out the most was the sense that the Imperial Admiral seemed to be annoyed, she hoped it was just because of the current situation. It was understandable as well; many of the military leaders on either side of the conflict did not wish to yield. So if they were lucky it was that, and not something they had done to offend the man.

Circ walked next to the admiral motioning to the simple, round white table that lay in the middle of the room. It wasn't as large as one would normally expect for a gathering such as this. In fact Ralana knew that there had been another room sectioned off for the negotiations, but the Ambassador instructed them to change it. He wanted the space to feel small, and almost homey. The man wanted to close the space between the two groups so they were forced to see the other, and in doing so perhaps see how similar the other actually was. The idea seemed solid enough, but now seeing the full entourage the Imperials had brought with them the Jedi was worried they'd be trapped together in a tiny room. "Please have a seat…."

The Admiral reacted on instinct, and stood still for a moment. He placed his hands on the white table, looking at Circ for a moment and then to the Jedi. "I was under the impression, and was told, that the meeting would be taking place in a state room…not this." He said. He didn't like plans changing, especially when he had no control over it. Maarco and the two other members of Ghost Squad, their clone faces invisible due to their fully encompassing helmets, stood a little ill at ease, their hands still holding onto their weapons. The veteran commando stood a little closer to Willem after they walked in, right behind the Admiral and Traven.

Their safety was in his hands. He took his duty very, very seriously.

However, the Admiral sat down, looking very uncomfortable. He liked the distance between him and the enemy, and right now the Ambassador was an enemy. The only factor that was out of place was the Jedi. He looked to Dunn and then back to Ralana. "Before we begin the negotiations, I want to say it's a pleasure to meet someone of the Jedi Order. And pardon my breach of protocol, but you have a very pretty name." He gave a light smile, something earnest and friendly.

Circ was gathering his thoughts for a couple of seconds wondering if he should bother to retort or simply ignore the statement. He figured the latter would be of poor taste, but then the Admiral's attention was turned again to the Jedi who appeared to be actually caught off guard by the Imperial's complement. It was something the man had rarely seen in the past couple of weeks he had spent with the woman.

She was surprised, which would be easy to tell from the look on her face. It was pleasant to have a complement of course, but the Jedi had never thought anything of her name. Nor, would she think an Imperial would honestly want to meet a Jedi, most were distrusting of the Order. That last fact made this all the more awkward, but she let it go instead giving the Imperial a smile as she turned to face the man. "Thank You Admiral," The woman gave a slight bow bringing a sense of formality to the conversation simply because she didn't know how to react. "You are too kind, and I do apologize for the change of space." She stood. "The Ambassador and I felt it necessary for everyone involved. I can have someone bring in more chairs for your men to sit if needed?" She glanced to the armed troopers before continuing. "I must say the pleasure is mine as well. It's not every day you meet an Admiral of such standing…"
*
*Maacro did not want to admit but he would rather sit than stand, and he was relieved when Willem nodded in the affirmative at Ralana's question of more chairs. He kept on talking however, as if the game of double speak was his favorite.

"Now it's you who are too kind. I'm just a man who's been wearing a uniform for a long, long time. It takes far more skill and discipline to be a Jedi; I remember the Jedi before the rise of the Empire. Noble warriors." He said, his voice a little skippish but otherwise friendly and well-meaning. If Ralana was trying to discern if he was lying or not, she would find that he was definitely not; his views about the Empire and the Jedi are very liberal compared to most other military officers. His concept of duty, honor, and regimental order was very much conservative.*

He would rather die for his honor than live in shame.

"But yes, my men would prefer to sit than stand."

The Jedi gave Willem a sincere, but sad smile, "I wish more remembered them as such." Nodding to the Moff again the woman reached into a pocket of her utility belt to pull out a comm. "Koyi'…" The Jedi turned around about to sit down in the chair next to her that had been empty when the Security Chief pulled it out. The woman paused looking over at the older gentleman who was now going to sit down. She blinked wondering if Flemmings had really taken the last seat from her on purpose. No, he wouldn't act that childish would he? A tilted glance and devious smirk on the gruff man's face proved otherwise as he looked straight at her.

"Something the matter Master Jedi?"

She didn't have a chance to respond him as the personal assistant to the Ambassador responded to her call, "I'm here Miss Ralana…"

The Jedi simply shook her head to the Chief before stepping back away from the table responding to the comm, "We need some more chairs…"


"Well…shall we begin?" Circ asked looking over everyone in the room as they were now all seated around the table.

Willem nodded, and adjusted the space in front of him with a few datapads, queuing research and data statistics as well as other vital information for the negotiations. The Admiral looked to the diplomat and spoke first, avoiding any political preamble about how important these negotiations are or a potential ploy from the Ambassador. Willem had dealt with men like that many times across the negotiations table, and since this time there might actually be an achievable chance of peace, there was going to be no room for that.

Not while he was here.

"First off, I believe it's important that we do a complete prisoner of war exchange. I do not wish to take a step in any direction until I can get my men back." Willem spoke, his quiet and nice tone replaced by a hard and aggressive stance, hands and fingers interlocking with each other in front of him.

"In that case we have an accord." Circ said with a pleasant smile, he simply ignored the harsh tone the Imperial was giving. He had already assumed the exchange was where they would want to start. "The New Republic has no issues with turning over your men for our own. We are willing to load our prisoner's on your transport once you send yours over to our ship. We can then transfer the prisoners at the same time. Does that sound fair?"

Willem tapped on his datapad, sending the order himself as he used his fingers across the screen of the pad as if he was a musician; his fingers moved with such grace that they seemed to flow. Over 40 years of using datapads to issue commands and verify orders had given Willem quickness and simplicity.

"Done, for the moment. But if you want these peace 'accords' to go further then we need to start talking galactically. Namely, the release of all POW inmates back into Empire Space…including officers and those who are in line for war crime trials."

He nodded, "Of course. I can send the order from here to Coruscant. The New Republic has all of its Imperial prisoners already prepared for the transfers. We would like the same favor in return." He did not mention the fact that many times the Imperials killed the New Republic prisoners. Instead he picked up one of two data pads lying next to him on the table. "Here is a list of coordinates to various destinations in space where we suggest the transfer takes place. I believe that a ship to ship transfer in open space would be a more neutral place than on a planet. "

He used his finger to tap against the metal table, letting his thoughts drift for a moment. He had not expected the man to willingly give up POWs who were accused of war crimes. He knew of some officers who willingly shot prisoners…and he was letting them back for the sake of peace. Willem was shocked, a little, but the emotion barely portrayed across his face as he started to talk again.

"I would prefer that. But I would like the deadspace locations to be near Imperial space." He said, looking back at his data for a moment. "The Jovian expanse is preferable to High Command's wishes."

Circ knew he was giving them an upper hand. He also knew that many in the New Republic including the Jedi seated next to him were not in agreement with the idea to just hand over all of the prisoners they had. Many of those men, even if they believed they had been doing their duty, did deserve to rot for the rest of their lives in a cell somewhere. But, this peace was more important than justice or revenge.

"As long as it’s on our side of the boarder, we do have more of your men." He paused. "I do hope the Empire will take into consideration the crimes that many of the higher ranking officers have committed when they are returned…"

"Of course, just as much as the New Republic should take into consideration the many terrorist actions in Imperial space." Willem said, not making eye contact at first as he made note of this in his datapad before looking back, finishing his sentence with eye contact. Now that made more sense; make the Empire prosecute its own men or else the NR will do it for you. Willem was beginning to think a little more of Circ than he had previously.

"The prisoners on board this vessel…were they kept in standards conforming to the latest prisoner affairs treaty that was signed?"

He hoped the Moff was not simply brushing his statement under the rug,   
he truly did for the sake of everyone involved, but Circ did not bring up the subject again. Instead he merely nodded, "Yes, all of them. Same with those we have kept elsewhere." He paused unable to help the question, "As for those in your care?"

"Yes." He said simply, looking up from his datapad as he inquired about the status of the prisoners electronically. The statement took about three seconds to reply,but it was honest and secure; something Willem felt good about saying. He looked back to Circ and Ralana, and wait.

Now it was their turn, he thought, his feet tapping against the floor in a very slow beat.

He was tempted to ask about the others, but didn't. He wasn't that naive. Instead Circ glanced to the Jedi, a silent question passed through his dark eyes. She would know if the Imperial was lying or not, and if he was then all of this had been a waste of time. She nodded, a confirmation that as far as she could tell the other was being truthful. "Then I will send the orders…" He deftly took the second data pad going to type in the orders to Coruscant for the transfer of all the Imperial prisoners, and the agreed upon location.

Ralana turned to Flemmings, "Have the prisoners sent to hangar, and your men ready to perform the exchange."

The older man stiffened looking more annoyed than per usual by the fact the Jedi had just given him an order. The entire time he had leaned back in his seat trying to keep his mouth shut as the Ambassador had just handed back the enemy a good number of their men. He didn't like it, but he could only follow orders. "Of course Madame Jedi…would you like me to send up some tea as well?”

Ralana kept a steady gaze on the the man, but did not respond. The look on her face was rather blank as if the woman was diliberately not giving the man the satisfaction of a reaction.

Seeing little response from the raven haired woman the man leaned forward on the table. His eyes glanced once at the Moff and Dunn before looking back at the Jedi. He spoke in a slight whisper though everyone at the table could clearly hear him, “How many cubes of sugar do you think they'd like?" He tilted his head slightly to the side, gesturing to where the Imperial's were sitting.

The raven haired woman did not advert her gaze from the older man.  She knew he was upset, and could understand why, but the childish manner was simply rude. Ralana kept a straight almost disinterested look on her face she would not reward his behavior with a reaction. "If you feel so inclined that would be lovely, Thank You."

The man simply glared at the woman before standing. He exited the room muttering bitterly under his breath.

Willem smirked. Grace and a distinct lack of bullshit. The Admiral began to see similarities between her and Elina, and it was rather odd. He turned to Circ.

"If your security officer will continue to treat these negotiations like how most of the Imperial officers in our fleet are, then I suggest you replace his presence here with another security officer." He said, biting his cheek in his mouth.

The ambassador sighed wishing the Chief had more tact, but he didn't want to completely discredit the man. "Chief Flemmings is a good man, but I do apologize for his brashness. He is too honest, and no diplomat." He paused resting the data pad on the table, "The orders have been sent to Coruscant, and if you wish I can bring up the holo viewer so we will see the transfer in the hangar. Otherwise, we may venture there." He paused looking to Ralana as to her opinion on the matter of the Security Official.

"Another officer shouldn't be needed." She turned to the Moff looking from him to the troopers on either side. They were outnumbered, but the Jedi didn't think it mattered much. There were two officers outside of the room making sure no one entered who wasn't supposed to. And if the  troopers opened fire everyone in the room would be dead in a matter of seconds. It wasn't a threat so much as a fact when considering the entire situation. There was a temptation to point it out, but offering the Imperials a dare was no way to secure peace. "I think everyone here agrees there has been enough bloodshed."