A Damsel Causing Distress

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The Idrica slipped through the ether, on a run between the Carshoulis Cluster and the Outer Rim. It was a pleasure yacht, rented out by a spacefaring company to ferry important clients from place to place. The crew of ten usually catered to a passenger complement equal to that number, though on this occasion, it was only six. Two Cizerack men, two Human men, one Zeltron man, and one woman. At the eye of the hurricane, it was Taataani Fai'sheea Igaarrai Meorrrei, matriarch of the Meorrrei pride and wealthy businesswoman. Before the ship had even left port, she'd insisted on firing two of the galley chefs, one for daring to assume to cater only for a traditional Cizeri spread, and another for not stocking Cizeri wines exclusively.

The two week pleasure cruise was stretching the crew to their breaking point. She'd insisted on using the ship's PA system to sing on, demanded that the crew participate with her in a morning calisthenics routine, and diverged between business and pleasure to the point as to which erase the line completely. She asked the ship's skipper to teach her how to fly a starship, gave quarters decoration advice to a young homesick deck-hand, then deflowered him in the unmopped steward's lavatory. She insisted on being greeted by the crew for morning wakeup in ascending order of height, at the end of which she was to be given a parfait of Ithorian songbird drowned in fragrant bearnaise, with a nectar apertif to start each day. At the end of the day, she would be thoroughly lubricated with wine and refreshment, and would challenge one random crew member to a mock wrestling contest, which she would win either by her own skill or by loudly protesting her case.

With a week into the trip, the crew was therefore nearly relieved when a seemingly lesser threat appeared, and a hostile ship dropped out of hyperspace, powered its weapons, and demanded that the yacht surrender and prepare to be boarded.

Taataani woke to the sound of nothing, or, less than what she'd heard before. A light sleeper, she sat up amidst a tangle of arms and legs in her large master bed, slinked away from her faithful retinue of husbands, and groped in the dark for her silk robe. Ears swiveled to hear as her gently-glowing blue eyes peered into the dark. She wasn't imagining it at all, the engines had stopped.

"What'ss gojing on now?"

Some of her companions stirred, which she sharply rebuked with a "shh!" Reaching to the counter again, she slipped on her glasses, reached down for her slippers, and opened the door to her quarters, padding softly down the hallway.

[Barton Henning]

In the cockpit of the hostile ship, Barton Henning narrowed his eyes at what he saw through the main view-port of the Knightfall. There had been no response to the communication they had fired out five minutes earlier, and the ship – somewhat larger than their own, and in a much greater state of repair – had yet to respond. It didn't look like the average Imperial ship, but these were the co-ordinates they had been given and the mission brief had said to expect the enemy to be utilising camouflage. The Knightfall's sensor readouts were equally confusing, though Henning put that down to the parts being years out of date.

“Hail them again, Ben.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The Idrica's Captain, a balding man named Vanzent, seemed to stiffen a little as the second hail came through. The ship seemed like the sort that outer rim riff-raff loved. Corellian, beat to hell, and no telling what was under the deck plating. Even if all they had was a pop gun, it out-gunned the Idrica, which carried no weapons of any sort.

Then, to make matters worse, Taataani Fai'sheea Igaarrai Meorrrei strolled onto the bridge as if she owned it.

"Missus Meorrrei, this situation is very delicate, please go back to your qua-"

Taa ignored the captain, fixating instead on the bridge's viewscreen as she walked ahead, tail swishing at the silken flank of her robe as she studied the situation.

"Whjy arre we sstopped? Who jiss thjiss?"

Captain Vanzent was less than useless, and her answer was given in the form of the repeated demand from the Corellian interloper. The Idrica was to surrender and prepare to be boarded.

Taataani's mouth went agape. How impudent! Some space scum crawled from the inky black to dare threaten a noble Cizeri Matron?

From her earlier bridge tutorials, Taa quickly found the comm station, strode to it purposefully, and pulled away the attendant's wheeled chair so that she could lean forward to the comm.

"How darre you thrreaten Taataani Fai'sheea Igaarrai Meorrrei, jI wjill have you know that everry crrewmemberr on thjiss sshjip jiss prreparred to fjight tooth and najil to defeat you. Even jif jit cosstss all of ourr ljivess, you wjill rrue thjiss day!"

She whirled around, sure as ever that she had spurred the Idrica's fighting spirit on.

"Captajin Vanzent, tarrget all lasserr bankss and warrheadss at the enemy and prreparre to fjirre!"

The blood had drained simultaneously from the faces of every single crewer on the bridge. The Captain yelled, his voice nearly cracking with high-pitched shock and rage.

"WHAT DID YO DO? WHAT WEAPONS? WE HAVE NO WEAPONS, WE ARE A PLEASURE YACHT!"

Taataani's moment of victorious rally was crushed. Her eyes widened and her ears drooped a little.

"jYou can't be sserrjiouss, not even one lasserr cannon?"

A junior officer excused himself from the bridge with a muttered "I'm gonna throw up".

[Lyanie Quez]

d'Lyanettea Meresco Quez cringed at the sound of the voice mewling somewhat shriekingly through the comm as she wandered into the cockpit area, the terminus of her walk from the engine room to see what had caused them to stop and what the hubbub was about. Yet, there was something strangely familiar about the voice. Not that she had heard that exact voice before, but something alike to it. The comm clicked off after the female's issuance of challenge and Lyanie wiggled a finger in her ear, as if to say that it had become congested.

"That accent, Chief? It sounded kinda like Cirr. You know, from the Layla?" She made a face at the itch that seemed to inside her ear and not accessible to scratching. Sighing after a moment, she gave up and dropped her hand, rubbing it against her coveralls, looking at the light mess of grease on it, then rubbing again. "I haven't met very many Cizerack, but that woman sure sounded like one."

That was about the extent of her commentary for the moment. Finally, Lyanie slipped her hands into the pockets of her coveralls, wondering what it was that the Rebellion wanted with a Cizerack, whether it was simply the wrong ship or even the wrong place. No, it wasn't the wrong place. They were exactly where they were meant to be. Though, that model of vessel looked very un-enemy-like. She decided to keep her observations to herself, as they probably weren't of any contributional importance. Instead, she tried to think of what little she knew about the Cizerack. Cirr seemed nice enough, but she knew one feline couldn't speak for an entire species.

[Barton Henning]

“Similar accent,” Barton agreed. Though they had shared parts and drinks with the crew of the Layla, Henning knew little of the Cizerack lieutenant's species. That one of their number was a (reluctant) ally to the Rebellion did not necessarily mean Cizerack-kind as a whole was friendly to the cause.

“We can't take any chances, not until we know for certain who we're dealing with.”

In times like these, Henning felt his training coming back to him. The Jedi of the Clone Wars era had been trained for war, and though he had gone on to shy away from the soldiers life, reuniting with his old temple class-mate Alex Cole had gone some way to reminding Barton what it was to be a leader of men.

“Ben, keep our weapons on target. Lyanie, with me.. time to ready the boarding shuttle.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Captain Vanzent, in the course of his frantic discourse with Madame Meorrei, ordered the matron to her quarters, ostensibly for her own protection since the attacking ship was already sending a shuttle en route to board them. Taataani protested that she would not be ordered anywhere, but instead retired to her suite of her own volition. She would not face hostile invaders in something so demeaning as a mere evening robe, so she went to change into whatever sort of attire would be better appropriate for an armed invasion.

It was all the time that the belleaguered Captain had to act, and he ordered the quarters sealed the moment she was inside. Perhaps the pirates could be negotiated with, but only if Madame Meorrei wasn't able to interrupt them with some bravado-laced invective. How the hell had she even thought they had weapons on the ship at all? Was the woman mad?

"Captain, I've got something."

Journeyman Pell, one of the junior crew on the ship, pulled the captain aside to look at the inventory manifest of the ship.

"Mrs. Meorrrei's entourage have a case aboard with four rail guns in it. They're single-bore, for game hunting, and not designed for defense, but we could break them out and use those as a stop-gap. It might be enough to fight them off."

Vanzent was sweating somewhat, snatching a handkerchief as he pressed it to his forehead.

"Hunting guns? What if these guys have something heavy and really nasty? We're screwed!"

Pell shook his head.

"If we don't resist, they'll get us for sure. I've seen how these pirates are, Cap. Real pieces of work."

The Captain seemed to be coming around.

"Alright alright. Go get the guns out. Do we have anything like an axe or something else?"

[Lyanie Quez]

"Aye, aye, Chief!" She answered, rather affirmatively as he came to and passed her, heading out of the cockpit and down one of only three directions that lead from the chamber. She made quick to follow, a bit of speed to her walk to catch up with his striding steps. Lyanie made quick work of it, catching up in only three mid-sized moments to Barton, who seemed half the time to be a man on a mission when his head wasn't... elsewhere.

"So, Chief..." She wasn't sure if he liked the appellation, but he'd never said much to it. Sometimes she just used his first name for variation. And she didn't want to seem too bothersome. "...what is it we... I mean, the Rebels, want with this ship? Or the woman (or whatever or whoever she is) on it? Are we sure it's even this ship we want? They said it'd be armed or something, right? And that model of ship, Chief... well, to be honest, she's far from it. Hardly even looks Imperial. Poor girl's got no teeth."

Lyanie frowned. Pleasure cruisers were pretty things, usually, but even some of them wished to defend from, one might suppose, raiders.

[Barton Henning]

“The brief said that we were to intercept an Imperial transport and commandeer it's cargo,” Barton began, walking as they talked. “No indication of the transport's maker or model from intel, only that it wouldn't be the average sort used by the Empire. Apparently they're trying to slip through the Outer Rim without attracting the kind of attention that a marked ship would warrant.”

The Knightfall's shuttle was a small thing, meant for emergency evacuations or ship-to-planet jaunts, not boarding enemy vessels. Barton hauled the access hatch open, the hinges groaning under the strain of movement, and peered inside sceptically. It had no weapons and was just large enough to seat two, three at a push. A storage locker lay against one of the cockpit bulkheads, and when he flipped the lid Barton found three blaster pistols inside. He picked one out, inspecting the energy cells. Half full... or half empty. He tossed another, this one fully-loaded to Lyanie.

“Put it on stun,” he said, as he holstered his blaster and swung into the pilot's chair. A few touches on the command console and the shuttle began to hum to life. As Lyanie slid into the co-pilot's chair, Barton gave her a weary glance. “If we're wrong, the bacta's on me.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The hunting rifles were commandeered from Mrs. Meorrei's personal stock and brought to the embark deck. It was only then that Captain Vanzent learned the terrible truth of it all.

"What do you mean no bullets?"

Pell, a bit sheepish, bit on his lower lip.

"I don't know. Maybe they were going to buy them at a lodge or something when they got wherever they were going."

The Captain held one of the ornate and polished guns, his knuckles white around the rear and foregrips.

"Everybody grab one and point it at the door. They don't know they aren't loaded."

Just about the entire assembled group at the airlock groaned at the thought. This wasn't the best idea they'd ever had before. Pell and two others grabbed the other guns. Another two people found a few things around the cargo bay that were heavy enough to swing at people.

The all stood around the airlock door, ready for the inevitable fight.

[Lyanie Quez]

"Thanks. Can't ever be too careful." She thanked Barton for the blaster. The words Daddy had said so many times when she was a little girl still sounded a bit funny coming out of her mouth. Some things just never die.

As she had slid into the co-pilot's chair, she finished securing the pistol to her person. It had been... a while since she had handled or even needed to handle a blaster pistol. She wasn't afraid to use them - Daddy had more than made sure of that, for the sake of having his precious daughter be able to protect herself around those unseemly engineers - but rarely had use for them. Her skill with engines and other mechanics and the like was such that she seemed to be able to barter on it with most anybody. She was glad to not need to do that anymore, even if she was silently not as happy to be under the umbrella of the Rebellion again. Beggars can't be choosers.

"Great." She said, only smiling halfway as she got as comfortable as she was ever going to get in the small craft (which was in decent shape, despite certainly having seen better days) when the shuttle thrummed alive. That always made her smile, no matter what, the power and sound of an engine. Her half-smile improved. Deep down, somewhere, she did feel a little nervous. "Deal, Chief. I'll hold you to it."

[Ben Merasska]

“Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me!”

Ben felt that he was in fine singing form today. The pleasure cruiser had finally stopped, he could see Lyanie and the Cap’n on their way in the Knightfall’s shuttle. He did as he was told, keeping the weapons (“Weapons? Oh! You mean the little shooting things we have on each side! I thought those were just decoration.”) locked onto the yacht. He didn’t much like being a pirate, but such was life.

It did, after all, give him an occasion to sing this song. Not only that, but now he was coming up with names for the crew of the Knightfall that were proper pirate names. So far he’d gotten the Cap’n well and good.

“Brown Barty Henning,” he said out loud. He grinned and nodded. That was a good one. He’d been stuck with whether to give the Cap’n the moniker of ‘Black Barty Henning’, but the Cap’n just didn’t fit black. So he went with a good neutral colour that pretty much fit him. As for Lyanie, she’d been a tough one to get. He’d finally decided the best was 'Bonnie', even though it wasn’t alliterative. It had a rhyme at the end, which worked, but alliteration was the way to go for pirate names.

“Bonnie Lyanie Quez,” he said and grinned again, though this one was less pronounced.

As for himself, that was another that was a bit of a ‘stickey-wicket’, or however it went. He’d finally set on either ‘Bootstrap’ or ‘Barking’. Bootstrap was an odd one, as he’d only heard it twice before in his life, but it sounded properly pirate-y. Barking was a nod to some guy who’d said he was ‘barking mad’ or something like that. But it also made him sound somewhat like a loud hound or pet, and not a very dangerous one; and while that fit him well, it wasn’t properly pirate-y. So he was leaning with Bootstrap.

“Bootstrap Ben Merasska,” he said finally, and nodded decisively. He flicked the comm on.

“Pleasure yacht,” he said in his best approximation of a gravelly, rough pirate’s voice, “be prepared, for Brown Barty and Bonnie Lyanie, terrors of the shipping lanes, are about t’ board ye! Don’t resist, and they’ll be merciful!”

He flicked the comm off, before thinking for a second and once more flicking it on.

"Yar!"

Once more he flicked the comm off, and sighed, leaning back in the pilot’s chair. There was a moment of thoughtful silence, and he nodded once more, and took a deep breath.

“AND REALLY BAD EGGS! Yo ho, yo ho, a piiiraaate’s liiiiife for meeeeeeeeeeee!”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"All of jyou be qujiet!"

Taataani's authoritative outburst instantly quieted her fretting husbands as they buzzed around the master suite. She sat, annoyed, at the edge of the large and disheveled bed, a passably-impressive dress having been hastily drawn from wardrobe and assembled around her voluptuous matronly figure. Her tail lay along one side, slapping against the rumpled comforter audibly every few seconds as her Zeltron husband busied with the task of fixing her hair.

"Wherre'ss mjy drrjink? No, jI don't carre what jit jiss jusst brrjing jit."

Her impatient hand was met by a Cizeri husband bringing a slender glass of Jaii'frree, an aromatic Cizeri liqueur poured over cracked ice into bloodfruit nectar. She wasted no time in dividing the drink in half, tossing it down the pipe. She passed the glass back to her serving husband, wiped her mouth with her hand, burped slightly, then closed her eyes, breathing deeply in and out, in and out. When she spoke, it was now much more controlled.

"Mjy darrljingss, whateverr happenss, sstajy herre. jYou wjill not make me anjy happjierr bjy gettjing kjilled."

The assembled harem were primarily selected for their visual appeal and menial talents, not specifically for deep thinking. They were upset with her decision to not send them out to fight the invaders.

"jIf jI musst be a hosstage, jI wjill bearr mjy burrden wjith grrace."

[Barton Henning]

The stillness of the yacht during their approaching was unnerving. Worse than if they had opened fire. At least then, they would have know what to expect. Instead, as he nudged the docking gear into what (by his best guess) was the alien ships equivalent port, Barton felt increasingly blind. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge, said a voice from the past. Faintly, Henning nodded. Soon they would have the knowledge they needed.

There was clunks and whines as the shuttle and the yacht became securely moored together, the crew of each vessel now separated by only meters at the most. Barton pulled himself out of his safety webbing and moved towards the door that would now lead to the alien ship. He paused and without looking back, said - “I'll understand if you'd rather wait behind.” - then slammed a palm against the access panel. Behind the heavy metal hatch that stood in front of him, there was hissing at the atmospheric pressure stabilised...

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"You there! Not another step, pirate scumbags! We've got guns!"

Vansent inwardly cursed his very lame threat, hoping that it would be enough.

[Lyanie Quez]

"But I wouldn't understand the point of coming if I'm just going to sit here." She said, more to herself, as she too pulled free of the safety webbing and followed along behind Barton, her hands straining to resist the urge to look like she was ready to draw. The blaster remained holstered where she had placed it, but she was tense with a readiness that became harder to resist when the hatched opened and the yelling began. At that point, resisting the urge to dive out of the sight of all the hunting rifles came to about level with the urge to draw her weapon in kind. Instead, she merely stood to the side and just back of the Chief, glancing from the back of Henning's head, to the assembled crew of the ship they were supposed to be boarding.

It was then, and only then that something occurred to her and she felt a slightly nervous giggle well up in her throat, which she deftly passed off as a cough, cramming a fist to her mouth to stifle it. She thanked Daddy in a silent prayer for teaching her all about blasters and older forms of firearms in their many shapes and forms, not least of all how to use them. A girl's got to protect herself somehow, was the reasoning.

"You expect me to believe those fancy-lookin', shiny, overdone clubs are loaded?" She said, smirking. She was standing all in plain view now, looking surprisingly confident for the threat-by-numbers and brandished weapons that stood in front of her. She and Henning were two. They were more than two. Team Knightfall was outnumbered by more than two to one. Lyanie shook her head, as if disappointed.

"Come on, now. You ain't even holdin' 'em right." She gestured, somewhat lackadaisically in their direction. "How'dya expect me t'feel threatened?"

She glanced at Barton, then. "Do you feel threatened, Chief?" Then back at the crew men. "'Cause I sure don't."

[Barton Henning]

At first glance, the welcome wagon might have been intimidating – but even just a casual once-over of the armed crew seemed to suggest otherwise.

“Well.. could 'cause some nasty bruises if they threw 'em at us.”

With a blank expression, he looked to Lyanie out of the corner of his eye, then swung his gaze back to the crew of the yacht. He had his blaster drawn but aiming it almost seemed overkill.

“Who's in charge here?”

[Barton Henning]

double post - delete

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Captain Vanzent shakily eased his unloaded rifle to the ground, knowing that the bluff hadn't worked at all. The silver lining was that these pirates seemed at least civil enough not to kill them outright. He had to hope that mattered for something.

"I...I am."

He weakly held up a hand as he stepped forward from behind a little cover.

"...are you going to kill us?" He asked, wincing lamely.

[Barton Henning]

Henning's expression tightened, sharp eyes taking in the Captain's unfamiliar uniform and rank insignia.

“Who are you and what is your ship's purpose at these co-ordinates?”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"I-I'm Captain Lyle Vanzent. We're a transport for VIP's and their entourages, that's all."

Purpose? Wouldn't a pirate be asking where the valuables were before asking anything else?

[Barton Henning]

The answer was vague. Though the Captain was obviously afraid, Henning had to wonder what the full cause of the fear was. Did Vanzent have something to hide, or was it simply the presence of unfamiliar persons aboard his ship that had rattled him so much?

“Tell me about this VIP and their entourage.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Vanzent shook his head.

"Some rich Cizerack lady named Meorrrei. She booked my charter for the next two months from Carshoulis to Imperial Center and all points in between. The others in her party are husbands, or so she says. I try not to pry into her affairs."

Now the captain was curious. Maybe they weren't pirates at all. Maybe they were kidnappers of some sort. Maybe if he cooperated, he and his crew wouldn't be destroyed.

"You'd be wanting to see her then, I suppose?"

[Lyanie Quez]

Lyanie, for one, had an interest in knowing more about the Cizerack culture and was keen on meeting the 'VIP and her Entourage'. Knowing Cirr had made her want to know more, though she was admittedly shy about asking him too many questions about where he came from and all that. She tried to learn what she could about people and their cultures in the most unintrusive ways possible. Though... she really like to have it be a conversation if she could.Not that she thought any such informational foray would occur here. A shame, really.

The engineer nodded. She hadn't drawn her blaster, but would if it became necessary.

"I would think it a good idea, but really, that's up to the Chief, here." She tipped her head sideways, at Barton. "She might tell us more and be more useful, maybe."

Lyanie paused, smiled and shrugged, and crossed her arms.

"No offense, Mister Vanzent, really. Honest."

[Barton Henning]

Carshoulis to Imperial Center... He'd hoped this would all be some misunderstanding, some error of calculation on the part of the astro-navigators, but if the ship's owner had business on Coruscant, that did not bode well. It was one thing to be travelling to Imperial-occupied worlds, but to set foot on the Empire's throne world, their crowning jewel, was no small feat for anyone who didn't at least have the Imperial's favour.

“You suppose right, Captain.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani awaited her kidnappers with regal poise, standing at the door when it opened. Her husbands, quiet but alert, watched the invaders enter. The matron of the Meorrrei house looked past Vanzent, the spineless worm that he was, and looked directly at Henning. Forrda were usually led by males, and this one certainly carried himself with an air of authority.

"How darre jyou?"

She approached the Knightfall's boarding party with her ears switched back and her fierce blue eyes narrowed. The faintest of growls rumbled deep within her, a strange sound to come from a woman who appeared to be of a high privileged class. It seemed for a moment she might strike at her captors, but they were armed and she was not. She extended her wrists to Henning in submission, but her next words were husky and the growl still present.

"Whateverr happenss, don't hurrt mjy men."

With that, the matron surrendered herself to captivity.

[Lyanie Quez]

Lyanie's eyes strayed to the assembled men of different species and widened slightly at the sight of them. When she felt the blush setting in, she slowly tracked her eyes back to the Cizerack female and solidly anchored them there, smiling warmly, as was her general demeanor, a fairly large percentage of the time.

What she had learned - or gleaned in a vague flavour and deduced - from Cirrsseeto was that the Cizeri culture was matriarchal. In what little he had said of his life before Sanis, there had been virtually no mention of the male side of the species. The dominance of the females was apparent, even in his scant mentions.

"Good afternoon, Miss Meorrrei, ma'am." She greeted the woman, kindly. Mum had taught her very well to be polite, especially when and very much to whom. This woman looked like a lady, well enough and it couldn't hurt to be respectful in most any situation, anyway.

"Now, I might say you're being a bit hasty there." She glanced at the cat-woman's surrendered wrists, then back up at her face. Yes, this sounded about right. Lyanie had no idea what the Chief had in mind, but she felt fairly on the ball with her words. "You'll have to hear us out and not make any assumptions. The Chief, here..."

She gestured to Barton, then crossed her arms again.

"...will speak on the matter of what is going on."

[Barton Henning]

Setting aside the fact that he had no authority to arrest the woman, there was also the practical problem of how the two of them would subdue the entire ships crew. So far, the element of surprise seemed to be keeping the two of them on top, but Barton was always mindful that he and Lyanie were not mercenaries or even soldiers, by any stretch of the imagination.

“We aren't here to hurt you or your men, ma'am,” Henning said, his eyes fixing on the lady's. “So let's not let it come to that. All I've got for you is a few, simple requests.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

A request? Of all the impudence, now this forrda was openly patronizing her! Her hand was out in an instant, lashing across his face in a stinging slap more intended to be heard than felt.

"jYou demand mjy sshjip powerr down, and jyou boarrd uss agajinst ourr wjill...forr a rrequesst? Do jyou conssjiderr all of jyourr captjivess to be morronss, forrda?"

Taa cast her withering scorn on Lyanie next.

"Majybe jI can trrusst a woman to be morre honesst. Sspeak!"

[Lyanie Quez]

It was pretty difficult to not feel put on the spot, but what with all the hubballoo betwen herself and Benita, verbal fightback was a thing of extensive practice that she could draw upon, if needed. She put on hard eyes for the woman, keeping her arms where they were, now looking defiant. Her lips twitched, now settling into a flat line.

"You strike one of my men..." For, since she did attach a certain ownership to the Knightfall and by proxy, its contents "...don't even bother hearing him out when I designated him to speak on the matter and..."

She rolled her eyes, huffing a sigh.

"...need I remind you that we merely hailed you and would have gladly sorted things out, then, but you threw down the gauntlet. Such impulsiveness."

Lyanie glanced at Barton, checking out his cheek and frowned a little. That might leave a mark. She slid her eyes back over to the woman, still seeming quite decidedly unamused.

"I'm afraid you have brought this upon yourself, Miss Meorrrei, made this situation more difficult than it had to be." The mechanic dropped her hands to her hips. "Now you can hear my man out or hear it from me and..."

Changing tack, she smiled somewhat menacingly, but more cheery than anything, as if her face was so used to the expression that it didn't want to do otherwise. The thought in the back of her mind was of how maybe, her sister had managed to inadvertently teach her a thing or two amidst her jabs and scathing insults. It must have been at least a little amusing.

"...I'll let you decide which of the two is more pleasant."

Later, she would probably go nuts about this.

[Barton Henning]

The slap stung, but Henning made sure he didn't flinch. He didn't feel the warm tickle of blood on his cheek and was silently thankful that Meorrrei had kept her claws sheathed. Nonetheless, it was clear she didn't put much stock in the Captain. Deep down, he couldn't blame her; he didn't exactly cut a very threatening or respect-worthy figure. He thought about using his blaster to win a little more leverage, but whenever he pictured himself holding the gun up to her, what he saw in his minds eyes looked like a holo-flick with a none too convincing lead.

“...I think it's best you come with us, ma'am. Back to our ship.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani's baleful scowl was about the only weapon she was willing to wield. Hands on her hips, she huffed angrily. The woman's sharp rebuke would almost impress her if she wasn't so perturbed over the intrusion. The male seemed like he could be pushed, and the Meorrrei clan matron intended to push with all her weight.

"Verrjy well then. Take me to jyourr sshjip."

She spotted a familiar figure cowering in the background, and she spoke up to Captain Vanzent, her voice resonating with a haughty, aristocratic lilt.

"Captajin Vanzent, jif jyou everr want to ssee anjy pajy at all forr jyourr djissmal sserrvjice, jyou wjill rreturrn mjy mansserrvantss at once to Carrsshouljiss. jIf jI fjind out jyou djidn't, jI have
daughterrss jin the navjy and jI asssurre jyou, jyou'll rregrret jyourr poorr prrofesssjionaljissm."

The human captain stammered out that he would do as she asked,
as he dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief. Taataani looked back to Barton and Lyanie.

"Well then?"

[Lyanie Quez]

Lyanie smiled thinly at the Meorrrei, still very much in her show and nodded. Her arms dropped from crossed to hands on her hips, after which she turned her head to Barton, looking expectant.

"Well, Chief? You heard the lady. Let's get a move on." She seemed insistent, making to turn back from whence they had come, shortly after saying so. The mechanic paused in the doorway, her eyes resting on Vanzent, the briefest of pities crossing her eyes as she looked at him with her hands resting lightly on the doorframe. Seconds later, she dropped her gaze and looked over her shoulder at Taa and Barton. "Time's a'wastin."

And she didn't waste any more time making her way back to the familiar deck of the Knightfall, which was in effect, her home. Their cargo had largely been inanimate, so the thought of having live cargo (and knowing about it beforehand, she mused to herself on the matter of Cleo's coming to be with them) did have its discomforts. You never knew what a stranger might do to your ship or in it. She hoped she could trust this woman not to touch what mattered.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

OOC: It's been ten days so I'm just going to move it along and hope we can get a better posting regimen later

The shuttle touched down back aboard Knightfall, and Taataani exited, being escorted by her human captors.

She stepped out in the small landing bay, gave a sniff, and caught more of the engine grease and other chemicals that the woman seemed to roll around in all day. And judging by the brutalist aesthetic inside...

...she closed her eyes, rubbing a finger and thumb at the bridge of her nose.

"Hai'ssa janaa anotherr Saanjarra-kaairr Correlljian frrejighterr. jI jusst can't get awajy frrom them, can jI?"

She looked to Lyanie with expectation, wondering if the female screw-turner was still going to keep up the charade of calling the shots as if she thought it might earn her points with the Matron.

"jI'm rreadjy forr jyourr rrequesst, but have ssome of mjy own; a ssoft chajirr and a sstjim. Mjy tajil hass a crramp jin jit frrom that fljyjing coffjin jyou call a sshuttle."

[Ben Merasska]

“Yar! Lyanie, Cap’n. Ye’ve boarded with our booty?” Ben’s voice sounded over the comm system. The tell-tale sound of low music could be heard, though this time it seemed the pilot had the presence of mind to keep it low to the point of almost being inaudible. He also still seemed to be on his pirate kick.

“I still have the decorations—er, the weapons—er, the shooting things we’ve got on the ship. Anything changing with that, or are we shiny?”

[Barton Henning]

“No soft chairs aboard,” Barton began, though Ben's voice soon cut him off. Their booty wasn't looking too pleased with her new surroundings, her tail twitching irritably as she examined the hangar bay of the Knightfall with about as much appreciation as one might survey a toxic waste dump. Moving to one of the wall mounted comm units, Henning thumbed the connection to the cock-pit -

“Maintain current status, Ben.” - then let the switch fall to inactive. “As I said... we're a crew of few comforts, and stim's aren't amongst them. I can get you a cup of caff though, or some Bespin port at a push, if that'll ease your aches at all.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taa slowly and very deliberately crossed her arms over her chest, taking great pains to use every ounce of her body language to telegraph her complete displeasure with the situation. She canted her head back a bit, looking down her nose at the captain.

"Captajin Hennjing, to be clearr, jI wouldn't drrjink jyourr pjirrate'ss sswjill even jif the alterrnatjive meant jI would djie of thjirrsst."

Her eyes narrowed a bit as the growl rolled up her middle in a barely audible fashion.

"jYou want to curre mjy achess, fjind ssomethjing to pad a sseat. A blanket, a pjillow...anjythjing!"

Exasperated, Taa looked to Lyanie, expecting a modicum of compliance. After all, a happy hostage was a cooperating hostage.

[Lyanie Quez]

Lyanie looked on as the captain traded words with their new 'cargo', remaining silent throughout the exchange. The Cizerack woman was clearly of privilege, clearly displeased with her circumstances, clearly not used to being a prisoner. Lyanie was a girl of fairly modest upbringing, knew to make the best of what she had at any given time and... well, she could agree on one thing. Being a prisoner was not her gig. However, the cat-woman had handed herself over willingly, with far less argument than she herself might have put up (for the Quez girl very much clung to her somewhat absolute freedom), so they were far from alike. But she was willing to do something to decrease the incessant complaining, for the only complaining she withstood on a regular basis was that of the Knightfall herself.

"Alright. Miss Meorrrei? I'll have a pillow for you, shortly. It's not like I use it, anyway." And that was the truth. The pillow served no purpose in sleeping for herself, as she was oddly used to sleeping on her back with her head not lifted. "Give me a few minutes. I've got to check the engines first."

With that, she slipped out of the area, sighing to herself. She understood the woman somehow, but didn't understand her ungratefulness. For all that Meorrrei woman knew, she was lucky to be alive. They could have killed her.

Not that they would have, of course. But that wasn't something the general public around this block of space needed to know, was it?

[Barton Henning]

Left alone with their hostage, Barton fell into silence. He wondered what the crew of the other ship were discussing, though he felt fairly certain that they would not fire on the Knightfall. However this woman was, she clearly had enough clout about her that – if they wouldn't stay their hands out of respect – they would do so in the knowledge that she would be worth far more to them alive than dead.

“Your captain said you were bound for Imperial Center. Is that right?”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani nodded.

"jI often have bussjinesss on Corrusscant."

Her demeanor softened somewhat, with the other woman off retrieving a pillow. She approached the Captain, looking him up and down. He looked like any among hundreds of human spacers she'd seen.

"jIss thjiss jin rregarrd to jyourr rrequesst of me?"

[Barton Henning]

Henning folded his arms across his chest, studying Taataani as she neared him. It didn't take a Jedi's intuition to feel the change in her demeanour.

“Business?”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Of courrsse, what do jyou thjink pajyss forr trravel ljike that?"

Getting nearer to Henning, she could smell the usual cocktail of aromas of a person in his position. The stink of the ship, his sweat, whatever nondescript fragrance he wore to cover both such things.

"jI own sseverral. Anjythjing frrom bjio-medjical companjiess to jinterrsstellarr frrejight."

Approaching to the point that she was nearly against him, she looked up at the Captain, ears angling down somewhat, looking almost-convincingly vulnerable.

"jIss jit rranssom then? Am jI to be jyourr hosstage?"

Her tail slinked up her side, swishing wide to wrap around Henning in a slow, subtle movement.

[Barton Henning]

Abstinent for almost the entire duration of his life – first, by the doctrine of the Jedi and later as a matter of practicality, given how completely his work had consumed his life – Barton could not fight the slight blush that rose into his cheeks. He glanced over Taataani's shoulder and willed Lyanie to appear beside them at that moment, but she did not. The line of his jaw tightened as he looked down at her.

“Would it be the Empire paying your ransom?”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Perrhapss sso."

Again, she assumed a bit of haughtiness, to embellish her importance somewhat.

"jI have manjy bussjinesss cljientss jin the Empjirre. Even attended the Emprresss's corronatjion. We'rre good frrjiendss, even."

Okay, so she'd caught a faraway glimpse of Tarkin at the dinner and shared no words with her. It didn't matter.

[Lyanie Quez]

Lyanie only caught snippets of the conversation on the way back from the engine room, the soothing lull of the engine's noise distracting her and clearing her thoughts while she was checking things over, smoothing away most of the less-than-happy feeling the Cizerack woman had given her, being so haughty - enough to remind her of someone she couldn't forget, no matter how much she wanted to. And it wouldn't be nice to form her entire opinion of any one being within less than an hour of meeting. No, that wouldn't do at all.

"Damn you, 'Nita."

She took her time and came back their way, pillow clutched carelessly in one hand, dangling as she walked, coming in to a scene she never thought she'd bear witness to, at least when it came to the chief. It quite literally stopped her in her tracks, in the doorway, but not quite enough to give her gape-mouth or make her drop the pillow.

"Um..." She glanced down at the pillow, then back up at the two of them, just standing there, talking as if it were nothing else, noticing that... was he blushing?

Really, you do learn new things every frackin' day. Like the fact that she really knew nothing about the man she called her leader. Huh.

[Barton Henning]

It was as if someone had pulled a plug and within an instant the colour began to drain away from Barton's face. The tightness in his expression which had moments ago been on account of some acute anxiety now grew firmer, grim, as Henning met eyes with his mechanic.

“Our guest is a good friend of the Empress, Lyanie.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

That wasn't the effect she was expecting. She expected fawning 'Oh, a friend of the Empress! Why, let me break out the best chair on the ship, prop your feet up, by all means we're so sorry to inconvenience you'. Instead, the Captain seemed to find a little durasteel in his spine.

Taataani redoubled her attempt to coerce her captor.

"Sshe would be verrjy upsset to hearr that jI have been taken hosstage, jI would thjink. A good thjing jyou werre jusst gettjing to that...errr...rrequesst, jyess?"

She turned to look at Lyanie, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Ah good, a pjillow. Come, come!"

She beckoned for it, finding the nearest seat to her and placing it directly beneath her derrier as she eased down.

[Barton Henning]

Henning put a little distance between himself and their now comfortably seated guest, motioning Lyanie to join. With his back to her, Barton glanced over his shoulder at Taataani for a moment before speaking in a low tone.

“I was never good at sabacc, Lyanie... what do you think: is she bluffing?”

[Lyanie Quez]

Stepping away from the matriarchal creature, Lyanie folded her arms and edged back towards the Chief, glancing at him as they went for an aside, briefly her eyes went back to the felinoid before she turned her back entirely on the woman. The engineer stood there, her shoulders almost huddled, shifting her weight lightly from one foot to the other as she listened to the only man in the room speak with a hushed volume that the acute sense of hearing the felinoid no doubt possessed was bound to catch, regardless. The girl from Dantooine nodded her head, once, twice, two short and slow nods.

"I don't believe that crap. Everyone knows how xenophobic the Empire is and their figurehead would hardly be an exception. It's plain facts, that. And she is bluffin', Chief."

She turned her head enough that she could see Taataani out the corner of her eye, donning a very frank expression on her face. Daddy sure taught her well to smell a lie.

"Isn't that right, Miss Meorrrei?"

[Taataani Meorrrei]

The House Meorrrei matriarch's back stiffened a bit as she canted her head back, gesturing dismissively as she discarded her targeted embellishment with a flippant tone to her voice.

"Sso perrhapss not good frrjiendss perr sse. Pssh. Neverrthelesss an attendee of herr corronatjion, sso jyou can damn-well rresst asssurred jI'm jimporrtant enough to not be annojyed."

Something crept into Taataani's reasoning that she didn't intend on, and she paused, looking to the floor momentarily.

"What doess that matterr anjywajy, unlesss..."

She looked at them both again, her ears cocking at uneven angles.

"jYou'rre not pjirratess orr hjijackerrss at all, arre jyou?"

[Barton Henning]

Barton exchanged a look with Lyanie. “Sorry sorts, if we are.”

The captain rounded his attention fully onto Taataani and folded his arm across his chest as he examined the feline woman anew. A close allegiance to the Empress, or indeed simply the Empire itself, was a fairly weighty bargaining chip. For all her flustered rebukes, Barton wondered if the woman wasn't just trying to come up with the most convincing, most threatening, lie.

“Be straight with me, now: are you with the Empire, or are you not? Talk some truth and maybe Lyanie here will be able to rustle up a few more cushions for you.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Who arre jyou?"

She looked to Henning, and to Lyanie, and back.

"Whjy do jyou carre what jI majy orr majy not do? jYou'rre not jImperrjialss, jyou'rre not pjirratess, jyou'rre not Corrporrate Ssectorr. Ssmugglerrss then?"

Remembering she was on a ship of conspicuously hideous Corellian design, she visibly chafed, her frown deepening.

"jI hate Correlljian sshjipss. jI hate them. Frrom the, what'ss jit'ss name, Lajyla all the wajy to whateverr thjiss...jiss."

Suddenly she rose in her seat.

"No, jyou'rre bountjy hunterrss! Of courrsse! Come on, out wjith jit. Who ssent jyou? And what am jI worrth?"

She was shocked and appalled, but inwardly curious to see as she hoped she at least fetched a respectable price worthy of her importance. Which of her enemies would stoop this low?

[Barton Henning]

Whatever else he was or was not, Barton Henning was - at that moment - surprised. He blinked.

“What do you know about the Layla?”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Aware that she'd probably ran her mouth more than was prudent, Taa promptly put the brakes on her loose lips.

"Nothjing."

Her nostrils flared imperceptibly as she quickly glanced to the side.

"Ssome ejyessorre jI musst have sseen ssome place and the name jusst sstuck, jiss all."

Now, why did this ne'er-do-well know about Layla? A million possible reasons, Taa concluded. There was no telling what sordid characters Sanis had crossed paths with. The type of people who would kidnap respectable women? Most certainly.

The trouble was, she didn't think that Barton bought her deflection.

[Barton Henning]

“The name Cirrsseeto Raurrssatta wouldn't mean anything to you either, then, eh?”

Barton half turned away and shook his head. “Pity.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Wajit."

This charade was over. Taataani closed her eyes, exhaling slowly before opening them. Her voice spoke without the standoffish tone she'd taken for most of this encounter.

"He'ss mjy sson."

She laced her fingers together in her lap, wondering what her cooperation would reveal.

[Barton Henning]

All the bluffs and the lies went away, just like that. Lyanie gave him a glance that said as much as she was aware of the deception, this was not the truth she had expected to be hidden behind it all. Henning pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he looked the Cizerack woman plain the face.

“Your boy's a friend of ours.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Ourrss..."

Taa spoke neutrally, still unsure of who Captain Henning was, and what business he had.

"...jyou've sstjill ssajid nothjing of who jyou arre. How concerrned sshould jI be, Captajin, that mjy sson jiss befrrjiendjing wanton crrjimjinalss jin deep sspace?"

Her tail twitched in some bit of apprehension, which she worked to smooth over as she waited for some amount of reciprocation in earnestness.

[Barton Henning]

“We''re only criminal in the eyes of the Empire. What that means to you and your perception of us...”

His words trailed away and Henning shrugged. If they owned up to their allegiances, would they be able to – in all good conscience – let this woman go? Would she go running back to the Empire and tell them all about the Rebel's she had discovered? Would she use her own son in a power-play? In all honesty, Barton couldn't tell.

“How long has it been since you spoke to your boy, ma'am?”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Such a weighted answer. Taataani arched an eyebrow slightly at Henning's reluctance to be framed as a criminal. She was beginning to get an inkling into the Captain's business. Coupled with his supposed familiarity with Cirrsseeto, it was becoming a little clearer.

"Jusst underr two jyearrss ago. Ourr pathss crrosssed on Muunjinljisst."

She tugged at the tip of an ear as she spoke, looking to the ground.

"Forr sseverral jyearrss, Cirrsseeto hass been the fjirrsst mate on Lajyla. jI ssold the sshjip to a man named Ssanjiss Prrent, on the condjitjion that he would watch overr hjim, and get hjim awajy frrom Carrsshouljiss."

She looked up at Henning, a curious expression on her face.

"jI thjink jyou've had me at a djissadvantage long enough. jYou know mjy sson. How?"

[Barton Henning]

Barton hesitated, but deception had never been in his nature. It came about as easy as living on land did to a Quarren.

“We serve together, in the military of the Rebel Alliance.”

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Mjy sson, jin the mjiljitarrjy?"

Her face betrayed no emotion, save for her furious blue eyes, which seethed, eager to saw Barton in half with a glance.

"Take me to hjim."

[Barton Henning]

OOC: continued here (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?p=34034).