Kessendra

Erly gave me like this funny kind of look, and then she says she's gonna cook. That sounds nice. I hadn't really gotten a chance to eat much anyway. Trent has some worries about the captain, I'm guessing that was the man I saw earlier, so I look at the wall. By instinctive knowledge, I find myself looking through it, and...whoa...is the doctor frying him? But he seems to be okay. Weirdly enough.

"Yeah, I'd like to." I tell Trent and smile. He seems very nice. I hope he won't mind me asking him like a bazillion questions about flying. Nah, maybe I won't bother him with all of it. Just the primary stuff. That'll be good to know.

I walk up to him and jerk a thumb behind me, towards the exit, "Would you mind if I asked a few questions related to flying a starship solo?"

Yeah I have much social skills. I run my fingers over my face and shake my head, "Sorry. Nevermind...uhm, you wanted to get slushies, right? I'll give you a hand?"

The Midnight Shadow - Medical Bay

The Nagai's sense of reality is occasionally an elastic one by necessity, her mental illness all but demanding that it be so to prevent the inevitable discrepancies from shattering her long-held protective delusions, and so the fact that Jemima addresses her as Annie when, at present, the Nagai believes that she is someone else, does not perturb the Nagai since her mind easily, instinctively, alters what is heard so that there is no conflict with her delusional version of reality. Nodding when told to stop the machine, the Nagai complies, her breath unconsciously held until Adrien's words, comportment, and tone all reveal that the treatment has been successful.

In a rare instance of the facets of her trifurctaed mind merging together rather than vying for dominance without an awareness of doing so, the Nagai smiles even though her posture remains almost military in bearing - the relief that the facet known most often as Constanza feels so pervasive that her exuberance bleeds through even the facet known most often as Forseti's stoic exterior. The smile fades almost as soon as it appears, however, and Adrien will recognize that it is Forseti stubbornly clinging to the forefront of the Nagai's consciousness as, after instructed to get Adrien's clothes and weapons, she nods with a gruff, "At once, Captain, and then turns on her heel with a feline grace colored by military precision. Without halting or turning as she heads from the medical bay, the Nagai answers Adrien's question about how long Neassa and Silas have been gone with characteristic terseness, Fifteen minutes, Captain."

Bringing the entirety of Adrien's personal arsenal would be impractical, and so when the Nagai returns with a change of clothing, she has brought only the Captain's twin DC-15s sidearms in their shoulder rigs; the ten throwing knives on Adrien's belt; and his field knife. Setting the clothing and weapons on the bed after re-entering the medical bay, the Nagai adds a pack of cigarettes and lighter, a flask, a comlink, a Sabacc deck, and a Pazaak deck to the bed before stepping back, her hands clasped behind her back as though she is at parade rest with the stoic, infinitely patient air of a professional soldier awaiting his or her next orders.

"Red" rubs his left hand with an expression continuing to be caught somewhere between confusion and mounting panic as the Qiraash woman offers Mr. White her name, telling him in her lyrical sing-song voice, "I am Nahimana," as calmly as ever, as though remote and distant from the other business being conducted at the table.

Before Nahimana can say more, "Red" blurts, "Who in the seven hells are you? His mind frantically trying to put all the pieces together in a fashion that will explain the swift, unexpected turn of events, "Red" asks in a voice that has nearly degenerated into a whine, You after the Draykon crew? Is, is that it? Or, or, is it the spice? What do you want, huh? Is this . . ."

Cutting the thin man off, Neassa returns her survival knife to its sheath as, keeping the muzzle of her blaster pressed lightly at the base of his neck to remind him of its presence and its promise, she reaches over his shoulder to pick up the blaster he had set on the table as instructed while telling him, Don't worry about who we are, or what we want. Answer the questions.

Nodding, lifting his hands in front of him slightly, "Red" swallows a few times before, occasionally turning his neck slightly to look at who holds the blaster at his neck before looking back at White, saying, "OK, OK, look, we were just supposed to, you know, check out the ship making the delivery, like you said. Make sure it looked on the up and up, wasn't being followed by the Rangers or something, you know? Far as we knew the meet was gonna be legit. We get our shit, pay 'em, and then we all go about our business like. No, no surprises. Not from us."

Keep going, Neassa prompts the thin man, Tell us about your people, the meet, and where you operate out of.

"Right, right, "Red" says, blinking as a hint of wariness surfaces in his expression now that it dawns on him what it will more than likely mean for his associates if he talks. Wiping some sweat from his forehead, he looks at Nahimana, clearly reminding himself of the fact she can reveal any lies he might try to tell, and then lowers his head as he says, Look, um, there's about, I dunno, twenty of us? Nineteen, he corrects himself when remembering that Kerrigan is dead. We got, I dunno, blasters and blaster rifles, you know? Nothing crazy. Probably be about ten guys there for the handoff? Nodding, he repeats, Ten, yeah. Probably. Exchange is supposed to take place on the landing pads, near the admin buildings. Shrugging, he looks at White and says, That's about it. That what you want? Look, look man, I told you what you wanted, alright? Let me go. I won't rat ya out, I won't, I'll disappear, I swear . . . "

Shut up, Neassa tells the thin man calmly, yet firmly, and then tilts her head to the side at an inquisitive angle to silently ask if Silas is satisfied with the information they have been given for now; they can always get into more detail once they get back to the ship.

Kessendra Space Port

Galley, Wayfarer-class transport, the Midnight Shadow

When presented with a workable galley, with the necessary tools and kitchenware, Erly wasn't exactly a gourmet expert, and most likely not a health expert either, but at least she wouldn't leave people wondering if she was trying to poison them or something, or cause violent indigestion at inopportune times. She took out several bantha meat patties, cut up the vegetables and various spices (non-narcotic), set the fryer to work with the bread. She found a chiller, and it had a small crate of carbonated drinks, to her relief. Erly was a worshipper of fast food and meat. She might go crazy if they didn't have this.

When the food was ready, she loaded up two trays, each had a serving of cheesy starfries, with the savoury melted cheese applied all over it, and three banthadogs with a generous serving of spiced vegetables and extra meat servings, and a can of carbonated flavoured soda.

It was all she could prepare in an absolute hurry, because while she had been making this meal, a strange, foreboding sensation had been growing in the pit of her stomach, and it wasn't hunger. She only ever felt this on rare occasions, but they always seemed to come in handy. It was almost like a sixth sense sometimes, and at one point, Erly thought she might have been Force-Sensitive, and tested out, but she had been told she was not the least bit Force-Sensitive. Despite that, she learned to trust this feeling to steer her in the right way, and so far, it hadn't failed her. Now, bearing in mind that Silas and Neassa were out doing the Cosmos knows what, and with Adrien not entirely out of the woods yet, and they were on a prison planet that put some of the galaxy's worst individuals to forced labour here for spice (the narcotic kind), and risking encounters with the strange energy spiders...

So much could be giving her this feeling of unease, her head was screaming at her to draw her weapon and be ready for trouble.

She emerged from the galley, bringing the delectable phast-phood to Trent and Krystal, she nodded at them and put the trays down, while she turned to look out the open ramp.

"Trent," said Erly, "I've...got a bad feeling..."

She closed her eyes, remembering how much she hated hearing that line, but now she herself was using it. Putting Adrien's jacket on a chair, and the book she meant to read on the table, she drew her nasty tiny little blaster from her pocket. Looking at Krystal, she said, "Stay in here, okay? I don't want you to get hurt or anything."

To Trent she said, "Eat something, and then be ready. I've really got a bad feeling about all this. Something's going to happen."

Of course, there was a private hope this might be an anticlimatic concern, but that was seldom the case. And just then she heard a voice calling them. Gripping her micro weapon with both hands, making it almost impossible to see, gingerly stepped down the ramp and looked around in a practised, paramilitary fashion. Her posture was deceptively casual to an untrained eye, but to people like Trent and this man outside the Shadow, she was probably fooling nobody about the fact that she was actually more than just a simple-dressed civilian. Even the way she was gripping her weapon spoke of practised familiarity with its capabilities and potency. Still, judging by the man's posture, Erly felt he wasn't exactly hostile, but how would she know?

"Adrien Draykon?!?" Erly exclaimed as she locked eyes with the oriental man. "Geez, the man sure is popular in all the oddest places!"

Leaning against one of the ramp struts for support and partially for cover in case the man suddenly chose to attack, she examined him warily, and said, "Can I ask what business you have with the captain? Or is that none of my concern?"

"Red", sweaty and twitchy as he is, is not foolish enough to say or do anything when they arrive outside of the Midnight Shadow and Mr. White and his Red Woman move in tandem without exchanging a word - with White moving behind him as though to make him an impromptu shield while the armored female Mandalorian moves off to White's left, putting herself between the obviously unknown male outside the ship and the hooded Qiraash woman, so that no single line of fire would be able to take them out.

Without speaking, keeping her DL-44 un-holstered yet down at her right side, Neassa, trusting Silas to handle "Red" for the time being, waves Nahimana behind her as she moves to Silas' left side while keeping watch over both Ryzer and the humanoid male with the Z-6 slung at his back in case either give any indication that something is wrong. The unknown male's posture seems relaxed, and non-threatening enough, but since Ryzer's expression seems to denote an absolute lack of recognition, there is no way yet to determine what the situation is. A few eye blinks and specific facial twitches activate the scanners in Neassa's buy'ce, allowing her to track any movement from outside the hangar in case the unknown male is a diversion of some kind, and she watches the sensor readings from the corner of a well-trained eye as she pays close attention to Ryzer and the unknown male as they react to Silas' interrogative hail to Ryzer . . .

Jemima had never done such a risky and dangerous operation, so she really couldn't help feeling more than a little internally panicked. But Adrien was proving to be a impressively more resilient being than any she had ever encountered before. His external injuries were healing exponentially, and he didn't appear nauseous as some people would be. He sounded sincere when he told her that he felt great, though it did little to eleviate her concerns. Personally she felt like he ought to rest more. This man literally woke up from a coma just minutes ago, and then went through a harrowing experimental procedure to ensure his survival. Jemima loved miraculous recovery and improvements, but this was on an epic scale. He peeled off one of the plastered patches, and to the young woman's amazement, he was already healed. Not healing; healed.

She watched as he rose to his feet, and requested for his gear along with information. She fussed quietly and unobtrusively with her hands, now that her work was done, she felt a little useless. After all, her primary mission had essentially been looking after a comatose man. But now that he was awake, the need for her reduced a little bit. Of course, she wasn't forgetting that as a trained xenobiologist and physician, she would still be fairly needed in a ship with a crew that gave the distinct impression that they'd be getting into their share of injuries and scrapes. Her eyes widened when Anzhelina returned with an arsenal of weapons. But along with that were cigarettes, a lighter, a flask, a comlink, a Sabacc deck and a Pazaak deck??? It confused her, but she supposed the Nagai knew better, and there were plenty of reasons for why those extra things were brought in. So she just gave the captain an unreadable expression, though her eyes were still riddled with concern.

"Captain," she said, "do be careful. Your recovery is nothing short of miraculous, but try to avoid excessive strain, okay?"

She kept her tone soft and gentle, slightly removed from its normally excited, squeaky sound. Turning from them, she began to pack a medikit with whatever supplies she thought would be useful for a field trip. If Adrien set foot outside of the ship, she was going with him.

"Fifteen minutes. Huh." Adrien mumbled to himself with a smile, a shake of his head, and a bit of disbelief. The doctor was a bit of a miracle worker, even he didn't believe it. He finished taking off his bandages one by one tossing them into a nearby trash can, pulling off the last one just as Connie (or Forseti rather) returned with his gear. "Thank you." He stated simply, then looked over the items brought as they were laid on the bed, nodding after each one, she remembered everything, though in the time that she had been gone he had picked up a pair of Enforcer pistols that he carried regularly as opposed to his old DC-15s sidearms.

Adrien picked up the pants that she had brought him, black canvas with cargo pockets, and pulled them on one leg at a time, then pulled on his boots. He then took the gray button-up shirt and slid his arms in the sleeves and fastened the buttons leaving the top few undone. He grabbed his custom designed belt and slipped it through the loops of his pants then sheathed each of the knives around the belt. He put the Pazaak and Sabaac decks in the cargo pockets on his pants and the pack of cigarettes and lighter in his shirt pocket. He then picked up his shoulder holster up and slid his arms in the loops and quick drew his weapons then holstered them once again so fast if you blinked you would have missed it. Lastly he picked up his comlink and clipped it onto his belt. He left the flask on the bed for now as Jemima voiced her concern.

He turned to her and put his hands on her cheeks then looked her square in the eye as though he had known her his entire life, "Don't worry about me." He spoke calmly and kindly. His hands were warm and softer than you would expect a smuggler's hands to be, his quick healing didn't allow for his hands to become as rough as most. His eyes appeared natural and kind, but they were hardly natural, in fact if it hadn't been for the doctors on Honoghr a few years ago they might even look robotic due to being Hi-sense implants. "You saved my life Pretty Eyes, I owe you one." And before she could say anything he kissed her softly on the forehead then turned around and standing in front of his was Krystal who then presented him his jacket. Surprised he took it from her and held it in his hands before he looked down at her, "I was just going to-- You have impeccable timing. Thank you." He said as he pulled the sleeves over his arms and up onto his shoulders. The long jacket hanged to the back of his knees and concealed his weapons, to those around him that were force sensitive they may feel a strange, but faint, aura coming from the jacket.

It smelled like Erly, or at least a mix of himself and Erly, which was to say it smelled nice. He patted the pockets looking to see if he had anything in them when he realized that he had left his flask on the bed, which he picked up and put into the left inside jacket pocket.

"Let's go." He said to Connie as he walked past her and out of the medbay. When he turned the corner he could see the pilot and Erly standing at the ramp talking to someone. As he approached the common area he pulled one of his DC-15s and held it to his side. He wondered if they had been made by the slavers and his crew was in danger.

As he reached the ramp and pushed his way between Trent and Erly He looked down at the figure standing there, "Kir?" He said with disbelief and a hint of relief, as he walked down the ramp. "How in the suns did you find us?" He gripped his pistol tightly and raised it to the man's chest, letting the tension build for a moment or two before smiling wide and holstering his weapon. He threw his arms around the man and patted his back excitedly, "I didn't think I'd see you again after you didn't come back!" He turned to look up the ramp with one of his arms still around Kir's shoulders, "It's alright, this is Kir Nedum." He dropped his arm from around his friend, "Kir this is my new crew." He said as he pointed up the ramp. "We'll talk about that thing you were supposed to do later alright, for now we've got to deal with something and we could use you."

Adrien turned to look at Silas and Neassa and their guests, "Who are they?"

The Nagai nods with a grunt when Adrien says they are ready, turning and falling into step beside him after they exit the medbay. Her pale, thin fingered hand never leaves the grip of her holstered DC-15s sidearm, nor does her posture or her gaze relent from their watchful vigilance or readiness even after Adrien has identified the unknown man that had been waiting outside the ship along with Silas and Neassa, who have returned from their errand with, according to Silas, both a slave and a slaver.

Were Constanza at the forefront of the Nagai's trifurcated consciousness, she would more likely than not offer her opinion as to what the crew should do (and, in fact, in the Nagai's mind she actually does just that, explaining why the Nagai lifts her free hand without taking her eyes from the man identified as a slaver, as though silently bidding someone to shut up even though there is no one near where she has raised the hand, nor anyone talking when she does so), but as it is the personality fragment known to Adrien as Foresti at the forefront of consciousness instead, the Nagai says nothing, her bearing remaining indicative of a disciplined soldier dispassionately awaiting the orders of a commanding officer.

Straight to business it seemed, this reunion would have to take a rain check until after they finish up here. Adrien's smile faded and he took a more serious look at Kir, "On second thought Kir, why don't you get some rest?" When Kir nodded and walked up the ramp past Trent and Erly, Adrien turned back to Silas and the to the slaver. It concerned Adrien that the slaver knew his real name, either one of these two let it slip or Bateman was smarter than he looked, because he told Bateman that he was Ric Daklan, Captain of the Silver Hawk. So now how to proceed? The wheels began to turn and the captain nodded as he pursed his lips and looked down at the ground. Had his crew knew him better he might bluff the slaver by turning guns on Neassa and Silas, shackling them, and walking through the front door with an extra prize only to take out the unsuspecting slavers once inside. But cuffing these two would likely only cause them to turn on him and count him in with the slavers and since there wasn't any way to verbalize that plan without letting the slaver hear it that plan was out.

Adrien paced out in front of the ramp as he thought of what to do, so plan B it is, "The smart call," he said with a hushed chuckle, "I always make the smart call." He stopped pacing and put his hands on his hips, then looked directly at the slaver, who was a few feet off his right shoulder. "You can fix it all? My crew walks in exchange for these two and the slaves?" He looked to his left up the ramp at Erly and Trent then back to the slaver. "Sounds like a deal to me," he took a step toward the slaver squaring up this shoulders in the process, "except they are my crew," and faster than you could blink he pulled his DC-15s and aimed squarely between the slavers eyes and pulled the trigger, "and I don't do business with slavers." He dropped his arm to his side and then looked over at Silas then to Neassa, "Consider that an official job offer."

He holstered his weapon. "The situation has changed, they know my name." He raises his voice loud enough for all of his crew to hear, "That leaves us with two options, either we finish this job or we take them all out." He paused to glance at Silas and Neassa to make sure they weren't drawing on him before he could finish. "I don't deal with slavers, it's bad business and I find it disgusting, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. When I started this job it was a simple spice run, Bateman crossed me, I've been had, and for that I respect the man, not many people can dupe me so completely. That being said, I won't condemn anyone to a life of slavery and if these people are supposed to be delivered here for that purpose then there are probably a lot more inside. Slavery is a common practice, we all know this, up until now it wasn't any of my business so I didn't think much of it, I didn't care. But now they've brought me, us, into their world. And so they think they have us, they think we're cornered, that they own us now, they think this because they know who we are and I don't know how they know that but they'll wish they never did. I won't be owned, and these people are my responsibility and I won't let them be owned either. So what are we gonna do? Do we run or do we fight? If we run they'll find us eventually, that's if we stick together. Most of you have any cause to be loyal to me, you can leave now and they'll never know who you are. But if you stay with me and we fight there's no going back, if you stay with me you're my crew and if there are consequences they we will shoulder them together. If you stay with me I can promise you two things, I'll never lie to you and I'll always fight for you. All I ask is the same from you."

He turned to look at Silas, "I have a plan but you're going to have to trust me."