Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Oct 14, 2013 18:20:40 GMT -8
Dav was not without a sense of humour. Far from it, he usually quite enjoyed the whimsical and the eccentric - with some of the people he'd known in his time, he needed to be. But on this occasion, under these circumstances, he found his sense of humour seemed to lack it's usual ease and readiness.
Perhaps it had something to do with the blockade around his home. Or the hundreds of blood-thirsty warriors baying to kick in the Hangar door and slaughter everyone inside the temple. Or the fact that thousands upon thousands of men had already died the day before in combat with the Mandalorians, plus dozens that day. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, which even affected him, eventually. Maybe it was the prospect of another bloody war, one waged with the intent of genocide. Or perhaps, just maybe, it was a full house, the combination of the lot. For whatever reason, he found Kirith's attempts at whimsy to be both in bad taste, and entirely ineffectual at lightening his mood or diffusing the situation.
As it was, he stared blankly at her for a moment, before arching an eyebrow.
"You seem very relaxed about your situation."
It was a statement. Not a question. But he suspected it might elicit a response of some kind. Especially when he followed it up.
"If I were in your situation, I'm not sure I'd feel quite so comfortable in being flippant."
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Post by Kirith Aridigo on Oct 14, 2013 19:06:49 GMT -8
"I find it's best to be relaxed, in all situations," she said. "It's better for your mental health, keeps you grounded and all that jazz. As for the flippancy, I prefer to think of it as being cordial, but if you wish, I can dispense with small talk and get straight to business."
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and giving the jedi a stern look, like that of a businesswomen dealing with a swindling client. "I registered that Cat's Paw with flight control when I arrived here with Jedi Vesten after coming to this planet by his invitation. Apparently such invitations warrants the illegal search and seizure of my ship by local authorities, without any attempt to contact me before hand. Your men detained me without giving me a reason for the detention other than an alleged 'illegal item.' All inquires regarding said item resulted in no answers. I've been informed I am not allowed the right to an attorney, and I have yet to see the Jedi Vesten after arriving on the planet, even though he told me it was dreadfully important that I come down here. The only reason my companion and I were in this system to begin with was because we were told that some beer made by a Jago fellow on the Yavin Station was not to be missed."
She sighed. "I dearly hope you are about to shed some light on this shroud of secrecy, inhospitality, and illegal behavior I have witnessed since arriving here. If not, I fear I may have no choice but to fall back on flippant ways, or sit here in stony silence - which will get us nowhere fast. Unless," she added, pointing towards the bag. "That may be the mysterious item in question? I dearly would like to know what I'm getting accused of, so I can find a new demeanor to feel comfortable with that wouldn't annoy you quite so much."
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Oct 15, 2013 5:57:04 GMT -8
The Jedi Master's eyes met her stern look without wavering, his expression the same, impassive mask it had been - except for a very slow, very deliberate, tilting of the head, and a slight narrowing of the eyes - an expression that showed her attempt at playing alpha was not doing her any favours. He'd seen behaviour like this before, in circumstances not dissimilar to this. Lawyers, politicians, big-shot business men who thought they held more influence than they really had... oh, and genuine spies, who ultimately had been proven guilty.
Since this had been during the time of Palpatine's reign, those genuine spies had ended up very, very dead. That said, so had a great deal of the lawyers, politicians, and big-shot business men. All in all, however, Kirith was on thin ice, and probably ought to be counting her lucky stars that it was a Jedi base she was being held in.
The mention of Jago's Dragon's Reserve, on any other day, would have likely have amused him. On any other day. Today, however, he logged it in his memory, and moved on.
"I am, indeed, about to shed some light on your situation. Let me just break it down into easy to follow databits."
He dipped his chin.
"Under Article Six of the Republic charter, the Jedi of this world and the Peacekeeping Taskforce of the Jedi Order are granted full police rights throughout Republic space, and the right of self governance over their own affairs. Practically speaking, what that means is that this Praxeum, recognised officially under Republic Law as a Military Outpost under Jedi command, is solely and exclusively the jurisdiction of the senior Jedi present. That's me."
He gave her a beat, but only one beat, to allow that to sink in. He was answerable to no-one higher on the moon. The buck stopped with him.
"Secondly, as a military complex, any and all vessels and personal belongings within the Praxeum are subject to a security search at any time on the discretion of the leading staff of the Praxeum. That's legal. Since we are under attack, and on a war footing, such searches were ordered in order to catalogue any equipment that might help keep the people here alive. The owner of the vehicles do not have to be notified before hand under certain, exceptional, circumstances. The fact that we have an army of Mandalorians hoping to kick down our front door and slaughter us all more than qualifies."
He went on, his voice was level, matter of fact. His gaze held her easily, his posture straight; he might just as well been reading the part numbers used to build a protocol droid.
"As for your rights to an attorney, well, that depends entirely. You see, at the moment, you're in something of a legal limbo. We have two potential legal envelopes to hold you under. The first, is as a civilian, in which case, you are entitled to an attorney; though, given the circumstances, your attorney would have to be drawn from the staff of the Praxeum, and under the current circumstances, you'll be hard pressed to find one that is going to be sympathetic towards you, or one that doesn't have bias against you. Frankly, you'd probably have more luck representing yourself. That's just an honest assessment of that option."
His gaze finally broke from her, his head lulling to the side, indicating the second option with a nod as if it were a tangible object on the table before them.
"The second is that we can hold you both as prisoners of war, in which case, we can keep you as long as we like, without legal aid, and without promise of release, until such a point as the current conflict is over. Your only rights under that bracket are for the basic necessities of life and a promise that you will not be put through any undue suffering. But you could be sitting in that cell for a very, very long time."
He leant forward, hands lifting to steep beneath his chin.
"Believe it or not, that second option is actually your better choice, given what you'd be charged with as a civilian; it's also one that can only be given to you if I make a certain, tenuous interpretation of the circumstances, and of what I've got here."
He nodded his head in the direction of the duffel bag.
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Post by Kirith Aridigo on Oct 15, 2013 6:37:14 GMT -8
She frowned slightly, as she listened to the Jedi. It was very similar to what she had already heard from the others, although like the others, she found the Jedi still avoided the topic as to why she was being held either as a prisoner of war or what she was being charged with. This sort of avoidance of the topic annoyed her - and she was almost willing to believe that the Jedi really didn't have anything on her. Like the vague claim of an 'illegal item' was a bluff to try and get her to admit something. Still, from what she heard of Jedi, they weren't supposed to be the bullying sort, or throw their military might around. At least, that's what her uncle had taught her while growing up.
Clearly the whole notion of 'peacekeepers' was a bunch of nonsense.
Still, the Prisoner of War bit was interesting. Kirith really had nothing to do with whatever nonsense was going on up above, otherwise she would have never come to this planet to begin with. She made it a policy to avoid war zones, it was far to easy to get caught in the crosshairs and she didn't much care for dying for other people's causes. As for Sid, while she and Corr clearly had something going on, she seemed just as much in the dark about the Mandalorian actions as Kirith. Which made Kirith think that maybe not all of the Mandalorians were behind whatever was going on. Maybe only a few ... clans? Was that the right word?
When she got out of this, she made a mental note to brush up on Mandalorian government structures.
Besides, Corr had more or less insisted she should talk to a Jedi. He hadn't been happy when he found out about her missing memory, and seemed to think it was something she should be worried about too. Kirith was happier to just ignore the issue, but when Vesten showed up in the pub on the station, clearly recognizing her and saying she should go talk to some Master of his down on the planet she decided that maybe it was a sign from the Force as she might as well follow it where it led.
She highly suspected at this moment that people who told others to "trust the Force" clearly must be mad. Next time she was struck by the mad fancy to visit a Jedi planet, she was going to hightail it in the other direction.
Glad to see you arrive at some sensible conclusion, the Other whispered her mind.
Great, and now the voice in her head was agreeing with her. Oh goody.
She was silent for a long moment as she stared at the bag, wondering just what was in there that would get her slapped with some sort of civilian charge. Her face showed genuine puzzlement, and a little bit of annoyance, as she really had no idea why she was being held or why, despite multiple inquiries, no one had told her anything about the Jedi Vesten. A tiny suspicious part of her was beginning to suspect this all may be a setup, but still had no idea as to what purpose. For a moment, she wondered just what happened in that missing segment of her memory, and if her missing year had anything to do with her current situation.
She sighed, deciding the whole thing was beginning to give her a headache. That's what you get for digging into things that were meant to be kept buried. "And what do you have there?" she asked in a tired voice.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Oct 15, 2013 7:00:41 GMT -8
As Dav watched Kirith, he wondered, not for the first time, what Vesten had brought her down here for. It was all connected, connected to the 'family'. Vidalu Na'an had shown up a few months earlier, now another wayward soul, with Cao already there... it was like they were collecting them.
Still, above all else, the vibe he got from her was nothing short of one of confusion. Her expressions, the emotions that did slip through her carefully constructed facade, revealing themselves in micro-expressions and in tensions in the facial muscles, none of them spoke much of guilt. Confusion, frustration, but no guilt. And no dishonesty.
Ok. Let's see how she responds to this.
In one fluid movement, he reached down, dipping his hand into the duffel bag, and swiftly whipped out the item in there. It was set upon the table before her firmly, and with a great purpose and precision, he slid it towards her, its front facing her.
The unmistakable form of a Mandalorian helmet, it's T-visor staring straight at her.
"You are to be charged, Miss Aridigo, with military espionage in a time of war. High Treason. Punishable by life imprisonment without parole. Or, in some regions of the Galaxy, Death."
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Post by Kirith Aridigo on Oct 15, 2013 8:46:18 GMT -8
She raised an eyebrow. "A helmet?" she asked. "This is over a freaking helmet?" She gestured towards it. "You know I've seen at least one of those in almost every bar I've been in across the galaxy. Never once did I see anyone get arrested over it. In fact it's a nice way to go unnoticed on some corners of the galaxy, not to mention it protects your noggin." She rapped a fist on the side of her head.
"Plus have you ever seen the OS on one of those things?" she asked pointing towards the helmet, an excited gleam in her eye. "The HUD coding is way more advanced than anything I've seen in any of the other helmets I've managed to get my hands on over the years. Closest I've found were the helmets that imperial storm troopers used, but the programming was really buggy, and the UI wasn't exactly user friendly." She shrugged. "Issues with government contractors, I guess. I heard they went horribly over budget for that pile of crap code"
She picked up the helmet, turning it over in her hands. Pressing a tiny pressure sensitive plate, it snapped open to reveal a hidden micro port along the righthand side of the helmet. "I downloaded a copy of the OS onto the Paw, and I've finally managed to get a Virtual Machine running. At this point, I've been only been poking around at the code, but I was thinking I might be able to use some of my saved creds to buy a hologram projector to display readouts in front of me in the cockpit, using the HUD code as a base. The YT-1300 models, while nice ships, have the worst information display system. It's all on these 3 color monitors that lie flat on the side of the controls." She grimaced, to show her distaste for such a primitive system.
It was true - after some convincing (and a lot of beers), Kirith and managed to convince Sid to allow her to make a copy of her HUD's Operating System. A search of Kirith's ship in the engineering bay would have revealed a running Virtual Machine of the helmet at the work station nearby, with a datapad of Kirith's notes near by.
She paused in her slight geekout moment as she examined the side of the helmet, and noticed that some of the wires had been pulled - a rather easy way of disabling the device. Fixable, but it would take her an hour with her soldering tools to fix it. She bit back a smile. Ohhh, Sid would not be happy when she saw what had been done to her precious helmet.
She held up the helmet. "Am I correct in assuming that it's because I'm running around with this particular helmet on my ship, that everyone is upset with me? Just because some idiots decided they were going to attack the Jedi, anyone with a scrap of Mandalorian tech on them is treated like the enemy and throw me in a cell? Pretty sure that's racism. Or something like that."
She placed the helmet down on the table. "The Mandalorians have been in this galaxy for thousands of years, Jedi. After all the time, technology gets out. Just because someone has a lightsaber doesn't automatically make them a Jedi. It's their actions that determine that. I can assure you, Jedi, that I am not a Mandalorian, nor am affiliated with the ones who have decided it was a great idea to attack your home world." Again, truth. The Corr she knew would never have condoned an attack on the Jedi, and she did not believe there was any way he would been behind whatever possessed a large party of Mandalorians to attack the Jedi. Maybe, if credits were involved....? Could the Mandalorians have been hired to attack the Jedi?
She grimaced. "Wars are a messy business, sir. I prefer to avoid them."
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Oct 15, 2013 14:04:08 GMT -8
He gave a small frown. Kirith was either naive, or very good at playing naive. Her reaction to the helmet was... interesting. Focused entirely on the helmet, neglecting to mention the rest of the armour. The way she picked it up and studied it was precise, attentive, and with the tool belt confiscated from her, the equipment her ship carried, her clothing, and the way - the inherently truthful way - she went over her technological interest in the helmet made it clear she was technologically capable. A skilled engineer. He had a baseline to go off of now. Which only helped him.
It also made the aspects of the armour that she hadn't mentioned all the more interesting.
The more he studied this girl, the more he found himself hooked on the thought of what she wasn't saying. There were moments, flickers, choices in her words. Carefully picked language. Technical truthfulness. Concealing... something. The choice of words, the persistence, just a little too forced. An uncertainty, Dav's instincts said. He got the impression she didn't completely believe what she was saying. A slither of doubt, connected to something that she deliberately wasn't telling him. And a lie of omission was still a lie.
He let her finish. Let her have her bit. Throughout, she was still dodging him, though. Still trying to manoeuvre herself out of this. And that did not endear her to him.
"Let's be honest here, Kirith." His right hand rested on his knee, his left hand and elbow on the table before him as, yet again, he leant forward. His voice had a gentle quality, but the gentleness was one of restraint, of chosen softness, of an undertone of considerably more strength and determination, and above all, threat. "This is about more than just a helmet, and we both know it."
He stood, his arms crossing before him, and begun to pace the width of the room. His head was dipped. Thoughtful. He didn't give her the chance to interject, waiting only a moment before he spoke.
"This is about a full suit of Mandalorian armour, made out of probably the highest quality beskar that I have ever handled. Emblazoned with the insignia of arguably the single most famous Mandalorian clan in history. It's not some retro-piece of kit, it's new. State of the art. Barely used. And custom crafted by a master beskarsmith, tailored to fit a specific person. It's... what, maybe a year old, at the most? Do you know how many non-Mandalorians are permitted beskar of that grade, crafted into a traditional armour, if they have nothing to do with the clans?"
He looked at her pointedly.
"None. This isn't, by any means, common. Then there's your passenger. Sidara Vercopa. Now, my Mando'a is a little rusty, but I'm pretty certain Vercopa is a Mandalorian word. To wish, I wish, or, in this context... Hope? The armour's probably hers. Sizing's all wrong for you, but for Sidara, it looks like it probably tailored to fit her."
He'd gone back to pacing, and had turned, crossing the room again, parallel to the edge of the table on his side. Aside from the look as he had spelt out how rare it was to see that armour in the hands of a non-Mandalorian, he'd not made eye contact with her.
"Then we've got your ship. The why-tee-thirteen-hundred is a ship I, personally, am very familiar with, familiar enough that I know the standard systems at a glance, and what you've got there is by no means stock. Military grade shields, uprated engines, automated weaponry, enhanced computer systems, and a sensor package that could very, very easily be used to gather some pretty detailed scans on anything around it. Not uncommon in the hands of tech-enthusiasts, nor in the hands of experienced veteran spacers, I'll grant you, but then, that makes it the perfect cover, doesn't it?"
Now he turned to her.
"And ultimately, above all else; the timing of it. Any one of these things on their own, and I would probably not be so concerned. But that armour, your companion, your ship. The fact that when every other civilian cleared off of the planet in a heartbeat, you stuck around and laid low in your quarters. The fact that you've omitted to mention things. And the fact that, with all these things, you've turned up here now... Do you see where I'm coming from with this? It doesn't look good for either of you."
His eyes played over her features. Studied the expressions, read her features. There was one more thing, in all of this, that struck him about her. One more thing at this point that he hadn't addressed.
"Are you scared, Kirith?"
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Post by Kirith Aridigo on Oct 15, 2013 16:12:33 GMT -8
She listened carefully to the Jedi, as he detailed the evidence against her. She had leaned back in her chair again when it had become clear that the list of evidence wasn't going to be short. It was circumstantial for the most part, since they couldn't really prove she had done anything, just acknowledge that the situation didn't paint her in a favorable light.
Not that she could blame them. For a moment she was touched by a spirit of empathy as she placed herself in the man across from her's shoes. Hell, she was already in his shoes. After all, it was his men that broke into the Paw and ransacked it without so much of a by-your-leave. Even she had a hard time suppressing anger she felt over the very personal invasion. She wasn't prepared to trust anyone who may have been behind the decision. An unprovoked attack against one's home ground occurs, and all strangers are targeted as a threat.
Apparently even Jedi were quick to fall sway to that sort of thinking. Nice to know they had something in common.
"Scared?" she asked. "Being scared implies fear. Fear can be a dangerous emotion to oneself and others, if not kept in check. I've seen many people get hurt because someone was scared. So no, I'm not particularly scared at the moment. Perhaps good sense dictates I should be, but then again, I have been led to believe I may not be entirely sensible."
The comment was made in her early flippant tone, complete with the cheeky grin, but unlike previous statements there was the grain of belief that she she knew she wasn't entire sensible, or sane for that matter. After all, most people would worry about large gaps in their memory or voices in their head. She knew this. A part of her realized that at one point she would have been outraged and would have demanded answers. And yet, whenever Kirith tried to summon the emotions she knew she should feel, there was nothing there.
Sometimes she felt there were many pieces of her that seemed to be missing.
"As for your suspicions, I fear most of it is based on bad luck or circumstantial," she said with a shake of head. "I'll admit, most of my interest in the Mandalorian armor is based only on the contents of the helmet, I didn't really pay attention to the pretty symbols on it. I have little interest in full armor. No matter what you do, it always smells like someone died in it and it's always uncomfortable." She shrugged her shoulders. "You're better off asking Sid about it, I was under the impression it was a gift from a lover."
She leaned forward again, propping her chin up by her hands, elbows on the table. "As for my ship, if you're so familiar with the ship, you'll also know that ship is also a very old and outdated model. Breaks down all the freaking time. As it was, I happened to be doing some long needed repairs while I was waiting for Vesten to find whatever Jedi Master he was looking for when the attack happened. I may be good, but there was simply far too much work to do to get the ship space worthy before all ships were grounded." She smiled. "Believe me, I tried. You can ask Cat too if you want. She won't shut up about it."
"As for the upgrades, I've had the Paw for over half my life. Found her in a junkyard when I was 13 or 14. I spent years working on her in my spare times to get her space worthy. Any time I had cash leftover from any of the odd jobs I did, I used it to fix her, so I could fly her off that miserable pit of a moon called Nar Shaddaa." She frowned, the first signs of anger finally coming to light, her eyes narrowing at the jedi in front of her. "And yeah, I added some pretty hefty upgrades to her, but that's because that ship, Jedi, is special to me. She's the reason why I manage to get by in this big wide galaxy of ours. She has always been there for me, even when no one else was. She's my home. She is my family. And your . . . men," she spat pointing towards the one way window across them, her other hand awkwardly following with the cuffs. "Defiled her, when I came here because some kind wonderful Jedi said he could help me." She couldn't hide the sarcasm from her words and she didn't bother to. A logical part of her told her she was striking out at the Jedi in front of her out of anger and uncertainty, the same anger and uncertainty that led the Jedi who searched her ship to arrest her and throw her in a cell. But she didn't care.
A long moment followed the statement. She sighed, breathing deeply to try and dispel the surge of emotions she felt. When she thought she had herself somewhat under control again she said, in a cool tone, "I tire of this conversation. Do you have any further questions, or shall I go back to my quarters and reflect upon the seriousness of my predicament?"
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Oct 15, 2013 16:38:08 GMT -8
Dav studied her seriously and intently for a moment. Stood stock still, he listened to what she had to say. It was all plausible, as far as explanations went. More than that, it was honest, as far as his training could tell.
The trick to good lie detection is not spotting the lie, it's knowing when someone is telling you the truth.
And, amongst it all, an explanation as to why Vesten had brought her down here. That also made sense. Still, the facts were there. Circumstantial, perhaps, but there. He couldn't take her solely at her word, no matter how honest it might well seem. Not given the circumstances. They had a ways to go yet.
Ultimately, though, she'd finally given him the kind of information he'd needed. The sarcasm was a little dry, and did little to endear her any further to him, but the information was something he could get people looking into. And that was an improvement.
He gave her a thoughtful look for a moment, before nodding, and moving towards the door. He stopped by the table, turning to look at her once more, resting his hand upon it.
"Believe it or not, Kirith, I don't actually want to have to hold you here. I've got plenty to be dealing with as it is, and I really don't want to hold anyone innocent without due need, so if I could let you free, I would. But the evidence, circumstantial or not, is there, and until I am beyond reasonable doubt in your honesty, I can't afford to take the risk."
He looked at the helmet, considering taking it with him for a moment. But with the power cell removed and the central processor sabotaged as it was, Kirith could do very little with it, and it'd take more than a few minutes even with suitable tools to make anywhere near workable. He decided, therefore, to leave it where it was. His eyes returned to her.
"You might find it a little easier to convince me if you keep it simple, and just tell me the truth. The unfiltered truth. Wise-cracks and games just waste time that we can ill afford."
He walked from her now to the door, talking still as he walked.
"I'll be back. Whilst I'm away, perhaps you could consider if there's anything you think I ought to know. Say, any other connections to the Mandalorians you might have."
Finally, the tall Jedi stopped at the door, and turned to look at her.
"You might also want to consider how you'd like to be detained. As a prisoner of war, or as a civilian under suspicion of treason. That's something we can discuss later."
With that, he nodded to the one-way transparisteel, and the door clunked, unlocking to let him out of the room. He slipped out, and made sure the door slid shut behind himself.
~~~~~
Dav stepped back into the observation room, and looked to Zuli and to Caoimhin.
"Any thoughts, gentlemen?"
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Post by Kirith Aridigo on Oct 18, 2013 9:01:28 GMT -8
You're an idiot sometimes, Kirith, you know that right? You could have tried to be .... well I guess you did try to be polite. How were you supposed to know he would have a stick that far up his ass?
She frowned after the Jedi left. She attempted to cross her arms, the image of a petulant prisoner. However the cuffs on her wrists made that impossible. "Emperor's balls," she muttered, glaring down at the offending restraint, before giving up and resting her hands behind her head.
She had an issue with authority figures. She knew it. She was the type of person who was far more likely to resort to being a wise ass. It was who she was, it was how she dealt with things.
Part of her could understand the Jedi's point of view. But that still didn't change the fact that his men and bullied their way onto her ship, probably damaging her, and then proceeded to arrest Sid and Kirith without giving a reason until several hours later. The later she could maybe understand, but she hadn't had any contact with Cat since the garbled attempt at was she assumed was a warning message.
She shivered, worried about the ship. She hadn't lied to the Jedi, the Cat's Paw was the closest thing Kirith had to a family in years. Not knowing what happened to the ship upset her. She almost wished she had taken Vesten's original suggestion to leave her ship on the station.
But if you had done that, it would have probably been damaged in the initial attack by the Mandalorians, she told herself. And one of them could have stolen her, or even worse, destroyed her. At least right now you know vaguely where she is, if not her condition.
Not for the first time, she wondered why the Mandalorians had suddenly decided to attack this sector. No matter what the Jedi thought, a few friendships with one or two Mandalorians wasn't enough for her comprehend - or even support - the motives of the war that was currently waging above her. One shouldn't be implicated just because they had a few friends who claimed to be from an entire race of people. It wasn't like all Mandalorians thought the same way, they were a large group of people, each with their own personality. Who was to say all of them even supported what was going on?
Maybe it was because the Jedi were quick to accuse someone of treason due to circumstantial reasons. Perhaps if the Jedi acted in a more civilized manner, other people wouldn't be so die hard to kill them all the time.
That did leave the question of whether or not she should go with prisoner of war or a civilian under suspicion of treason. By claiming prisoner of war, it would be admitting she was a Mandalorian - which she wasn't. Friends with a few she might be, but she wasn't prepared to kill or die (or even say she would) for an entire group of people that would probably consider an outsider.
She wasn't sure about the civilian choice either. She had heard what had happened when a civilian got on the wrong side of some military organization. And that's apparently what the Jedi were - a military organization. She didn't like the idea that their temple was considered a military base - where civilian rights could be so easily violated without so much as a warning. They were supposed to be peacekeepers, diplomats, mediators. The Jedi were the ones people were supposed to turn to for aid and peaceful solutions - they were never supposed to be an army.
Maybe that's why they got attacked.
If I get out of here, I'm staying the hell away from Jedi sectors from now on.
She looked over at the one way mirror and frowned. Not if, she told herself. When. And the ship and Sid shall be coming with me.
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Caoimhin Shan
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Post by Caoimhin Shan on Oct 19, 2013 18:36:32 GMT -8
Let me speak.
Cao's different-coloured eyes went wide at the rather bold request, then he turned away from Dav and Zuli, fully aware that his thoughts were easily read, but feeling like the gesture gave him some sort of privacy for his internal dialogue.
Why?
You can search my memories all you want. But I know Kirith better than you ever will. You'd waste time in searching, whereas I know what information to give.
They won't trust you. You know that.
They will if you tell them.
He groaned audibly, then turned back to the pair of Jedi Masters in the room with him.
They'll kill you if you try anything.
Precisely why I won't.
"Master Man'Sell, my.. Vilus has asked to speak. He's more familiar with Kirith than I am.."
Cao closed his eyes.. ..inside, the darkness swirled, enough to make itself known but not enough to become overbearing or aggressive.. ..and when he opened them again, the irises were misted over by a dull yellow haze.
"Kirith doesn't remember me, but I remember her well." Vilus wasted no time on pleasantries; he doubted the Jedi would have wanted to hear them. "She has an entity living in her head, just as Cao does: the 'dark side' of Anzat. It's a long and complicated story, though I'd be more than happy to provide it. I tried to warn you about her," he said, focusing his yellowed gaze upon Zuli, "but my advice was spurned. But, moving on.
"Kirith is not one to seek out a fight. She would not have come here looking to provoke violence, especially considering what she has said about Vesten Kor-taan. As for the armour, I believe her story. She's almost as tech-savvy as Elly was-.." Inside, Cao twinged, a spike of sadness shooting out through the Force at the memory of his lost sister. "..And when someone like that sees some high-tech armour, the association of that armour is the last thing on their mind. It's the tech inside that matters to them.
"I can't tell you whether she knew about the Mandalorians' intention to declare war, but I highly doubt she would ever knowingly be a spy for them."
His speech was finished, and so he stood there, a Sith Lord in the presence of two Jedi Masters.
You're defending her.
I'm simply stating my opinion.
You still care for her.
A sneer made itself visible on his face. Vilus didn't realize that his internal expressions were now being made on the outside as well..
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Zuli Madoon
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Finally got a post done! Yay for me! LOL
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Post by Zuli Madoon on Oct 21, 2013 10:54:32 GMT -8
Zuli was about to speak, when Cao and Vilus spoke up..
The presence that inhabited Caoimhin's mind had a point..
"The young woman next door doesn't seem stupid enough to put herself in such a dangerous predicament.." The Jedi Master said, leaning on the desk with both hands. It groaned slightly under his weight.."But she isn't being honest about things.."
Zuli reached over to the monitoring equipment and rewound the video captured during her interview. He listened again to her words and watched her actions closely..
"The Captain was honest about her interest in the technology, but she's dancing around the truth to avoid being completely honest and telling us what's what.."
Zuli stood upright, tucking his thumbs into his belt..
"What's our next step? Interview the other detainee? Or press this one for more information?"
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Oct 30, 2013 7:52:40 GMT -8
Dav, drawing his eyes away from Cao - or, rather, Vilus, as it was apparent was the case here, which served to explain why his hand rested lightly on one of his Lightsabers - turned to look at Kirith through the one-way screen. He remained unmoving for a moment as he watched her. Zuli and Cao... Vilus... had given fair assessments. The Dark Side of Anzat... it was a story he knew well, as it went. Had heard it from Tebana, some time ago, and never forgotten it. He'd been to Anzat since, and knew that the Force no-longer contained whatever complex pseudopersonality had resided there before. It's presence, if Vilus was to be trusted (something which Dav was unsure could be done), was something to be concerned about. But it bore little relevance on the current situation.
He dipped his head, turning it half a turn back to Zuli and Caoimhin.
"I don't think she's truly our enemy, but I know she's not a friend. Not yet, at least. Still, whatever she's dancing around, avoiding, I will find out what it is."
He pondered the Zuli's question for a moment or two. What next?
"We'll let Kirith stew for a little while in there. Let's have Sidara brought into the other interview room, and we'll question her now, too. See if we can't get more out of her. If you could arrange that, I need to fetch Dirty. Need his help with something."
The Jedi Battlemaster set his mind on his next action, turning for the door, heading out to locate the little burgundy Astromech. He stopped at the door, turning back, his eyes fixed on Caoimhin's face. His face was an expressionless mask, his voice calm and level, but the eyes were hard as beskar[/], and burnt with the vibrancy of a Lightsaber.
"For the record - I do not want to see Vilus again. Caoimhin remains in control, or both get locked in a cell with a Ysalamir of their own to keep them company. Understand?"
Dav turned back to the door, his hands finding the controls. As it slid open, and he stepped through it, he made one final remark.
"I've got enough to worry about with the bucketheads. I don't need Sith wandering around the Praxeum as well."
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Sidara Vercopa
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Post by Sidara Vercopa on Nov 4, 2013 14:03:26 GMT -8
Sidara sat in her cell and every single minute seemed like an eternity. She wasn't used to the quiet. Her stomach turned with the unknown looming over her. She absentmindedly chewed on her thumbnail as she contemplated her options... which were few at this point. Unless by some miracle Corr figured out that she was there and in trouble, she had to depend on the mercy of the Jedi that were detaining her.
She closed her eyes and let out a slow long sigh. Her armor was stored on CAT... she was sure they had searched it and have probably found it by now. No sense lying about who she was. She had to face the consequences of being in the wrong place at the worst possible time. She had to remember she was a warrior and no matter what happened, she would act like one.
She looked down at her and spun the engagement ring on her finger. She missed him. With the grace of the Gods, she would be with him again very soon. Now all she had to do was wait to be questioned.
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Jul 7, 2016 23:15:54 GMT -8
They were all there, now. Some three dozen beings, by the black-haired man's count. Various species. No immediately obvious connection barring what the goons with guns said was a violation of the natural order. That could be anything; hell, it was the rallying cry of every barely-organized terrorist group the galaxy, and at that point there was no telling who had grabbed them at all. There were one or two familiar faces, but nobody he could immediately place. And there they all were, awaiting ransom demands.
At least, that's what Aherk Fyyar had told them.
Unfortunately, Aherk was something of a genius. Which, considering how he reached the conclusion he did, made him rather overqualified to follow the breadcrumbs. Pretty obvious if one had been keeping up with current events. Korriban - what's left of it, anyway - is reduced to a smoldering ruin. Holovid of a robed Jedi goes viral. War breaks out over Kashyyyk. Word gets out of war crimes committed on the Jedi side. Nothing is seen or heard of said Jedi for an uncomfortable length of time. Out of nowhere, goons with guns seize him from the ship he had taken up a residency on - killing the rest of the crew for "harboring darkness" - and throw him in a brig with a few others. Aherk couldn't speak to the others inside the cells with him. But he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt why they had come for him. And if their reasons for taking him were similar for taking them, and their captor was who Aherk thought it was, then it was pretty clear for anybody giving the matter a scrap of thought that ransom probably wasn't on the docket. It didn't take a genius to piece that much together.
They had been commiserating in the cell block for nearly an hour when two armed men raised their weapons and lowered the shields. There was shuddering and screaming all around him, but Aherk simply smiled at the two men, remaining seated. They barked some order, but the black-haired Human pretended not to hear it.
Two stun blasts later, and Aherk was hauled out of the cell and dragged towards the stairwell leading into the Praxeum.
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Oct 6, 2016 9:33:36 GMT -8
In the cells beneath the Jedi Praxeum, dozens of people of various species and genders awaited their show trials. Some were in denial, certain that they would be found innocent by this new, militant arm of the Jedi Order and be released. Most were angry, screaming at the top of their lungs, demanding to know why their collecting habits or stupid university in-jokes had landed them in a cell with strangers, and some legitimately dangerous ones at that. A few others were depressed; although he didn't use the name, this "shepherd" their captors kept referring to was the same man that had laid waste to the Valley of the Dark Lords and led the purging of Kashyyyk, and already knew that their fates were sealed. The scant few that had accepted their fates had begun cracking jokes. But whatever their mental states, they were there. Whether they had been dabbling in dark dorm room basements, collected Sith artifacts, or genuinely used the dark side of the Force to make others suffer (as some were still doing, even to their comparatively innocent cellmates), they were there. And no matter when or how it happened, at some level everyone in the Praxeum dungeon knew what was to happen. Because they were there.
One of the prisoners would have been coming up with an escape plan, had the shrapnel in his chest not been agonizing him since the so-called shepherd crushed his respirator.
The pain kept the usually-flippant Aherk Fyyar from doing much more than slowly breathing. His cellmate couldn't care less; the heavily-tattooed Iktotchi simply sat in the corner and muttered to himself as he had since the second day of their captivity. From what Fyyar had managed to piece together, the man had been studying the dark side of the Force from a purely academic perspective, given his talk of texts and lectures. And as it would many people, suddenly being kidnapped in the night and taken to a jungle world to await trial for a nonexistent crime broke him. Had he the presence of mind to breathe, Aherk would've tried to console him. In part because he was a healer. In part because nobody in these cells was more guilty than he was. But his usual sarcastic tongue was held by searing agony, and the Iktotchi went without help. The awful sensation was beyond much of what Aherk had felt before, and yet it held a familiar tinge...
A lifetime ago, overcoming a wound like the one he had now would've been easy enough for Aherk. Hell, he had done that very thing before, and it saved his life. There was more than enough misery in these cells; enough fear, anger, and hate to draw from and propel him forward despite the crippling - and very possibly fatal - injury. And all Aherk would have to do was put it to use. The sharp pain in his chest would be reduced to a dull ache, the ray shields before him would be reduced to minor annoyances, and any guard not drawing upon the Force themselves would be reduced to ash. The Zabrak running this show and his little baby acolyte would fight, of course, but what self-respecting Jedi wouldn't? Aherk's pain began to subside at the thought of clashing with the near-legendary Rutil Iorek, wishing that the Wanderer had spoken of him more often. Would she come? Of course she would, that was the whole reason that this cult leader had smashed his respirator, using their still-tangible Force bond to draw her in, just in case their own history did not. His mistake. His last mistake. A thin smile crossed Formidonis's lips as he envisioned it, the picture becoming as clear and as vivid as he used to have. They'd meet, he'd be dragged in, the shepherd would demand the Wanderer make a demonstration of loyalty to the light, he'd stand up, blast everyone back, seize the Wanderer by her scrawny neck and gleefully rip out her other eye before collapsing her windpipe...
...but, as Aherk forced himself to remember as the debilitating pain came racing back, that had been a lifetime ago. He wasn't Formidonis anymore. Whether or not the cultists believed that - or even if Vidalu did - wasn't something he could control. The only thing he could control anymore was his breathing. And the only thing he could hope for was that she did show up, and didn't fall for the old man's bait.
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Post by Aherk Fyyar on Oct 24, 2016 13:53:45 GMT -8
How long had it been? A week? A day? A few short, agonizing minutes? Fyyar had no way to tell. The lights in his cell and the pain in his chest were constant, preventing him from getting even a moment's rest. Not that he'd really want it, anyway; in his state, sleep could very easily mean death, and his best chance of staying alive was to keep his supine position on the cold stone floor. Unnecessary movement could force the jagged bits of metal in his chest to move, opening old wounds and cutting new ones. Rolling onto his stomach could force a manageable flow of blood to to surge. And crying out would only invite the sadists in charge of the detention area to waltz in and throw a few kicks to his side, exacerbating his situation needlessly. But as the seconds crawled by, Aherk was beginning to wonder why he cared at all. Without immediate medical treatment, his wounds would go septic. And when that happened - as the "good doctor" was loathe to remind himself - it was only a matter of time.
As the sound ebbed in and out of perception, Aherk lulled his head to the side to see the ray shields holding him and his cellmate dissipate. The black-haired Human braced himself as best he could, wincing as the tiny shards of durasteel crept into new and exciting chunks of flesh. He couldn't gauge the reaction of his cellmate, given the Iktotchi's preference for the cell's far corner. All Aherk could see was an armored Lethan Twi'lek woman slowly step into the cell, her beautiful face locked in a cold grimace. But something about her - the watery eyes, the uncertainty of her gait, the uncharacteristic lack of a weapon - betrayed regret.
Aherk would know; he'd patched the woman up enough times.
"So," Sarena said, her voice just barely quivering, "they did get you after all. Thought I'd spaced you."
The Human said nothing. There was too much to process and too little to say. The last time Aherk had seen Sarena, he had been about to ship out with a crew in need of a medic. It hadn't been a long engagement; the job went sideways, if successfully, and the red-helmed nutcase he'd been forced to work with was entirely too much to handle. It hadn't been especially long after that - about a week after he'd let his bounty hunter friend know what ship he was on - when the next crew he'd been with was attacked by what had appeared to be pirates. But once the airlock had been breached and the blue lightsaber began to arc across the air, Aherk knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he'd been found. He'd had a few questions, but none so great as to how they had managed to find him to begin with. And after Ashla only knew how long, the answer appeared before him in the form of a beautiful Twi'lek woman.
"Nice..." Aherk said, his words little more than a growl, "...try."
"Oh, don't get sanctimonious with me," Sarena snapped back, sounding more desperate than menacing, "if I remember correctly, I wasn't the one parading around as a doctor. What kind of sick son of a bitch does that? Especially after what you've done, Jef?"
Well, someone had drunk the wine rather quickly, hadn't they?
"What'd...what'd they t-tell...you?"
"Does it matter, Jef?" Sarena asked, spitting his false name like a curse, "you're in with them! And you have been for kriff only knows how long! You go and heal people by day and then torture others by night? Is that it?!"
"Sa-sarena, it's...it's not true. That's n-n-not m-me..."
"What's KR-04?"
Aherk hadn't been kicked in the gut, but he might as well have. KR-04. A designation he hadn't heard in an age. A neuranium monstrosity he'd built as a prototype assassin droid, designed solely to masquerade as Aherk himself and slaughter anybody that Formidonis had deemed necessary. And as far as the former Dark Jedi knew, it had only ever been assigned to hunt a single target. A target that - and here was the kicker - just so happened to have been romantically linked to Formidonis himself. With that in mind, Aherk figured, it was significantly easier to see why Sarena might be upset.
But more to the point, they'd told her about him. That horn-headed son of a bitch had taken Sarena into a room somewhere and somehow managed to dig up everything about his former life. If the Zabrak knew about his assassin droid, then they undoubtedly knew about his biological weapon. His murder of a small family on Dantooine to get his hands on their daughter. His strange visit from a future victim hell bent on reshaping the course of history. It raised even more questions for Aherk, but those could wait; what mattered was that he wasn't Jef Stybruk anymore. He was Aherk. And to people he had genuinely grown to care for, he was Formidonis. Madman. Malicious.
Monster.
"I think..." Aherk said, grimacing, "...I think you know damn well what it is, Sarena."
The icy Twi'lek went silent. Had she expected some kind of denial? Some kind of plea to see reason? If so, she wasn't indicating as such. If anything, she looked shocked. For all that Sarena had been told, for everything that the self-named Shepherd had told her, she hadn't believed it. Not Jef. Not the man she'd been paid to betray. But with a few words, Aherk had confirmed every alleged fact and every damning accusation. Sarena could only stare at him and shake her head ever so slightly before turning and walking out of the cell far faster than she had entered.
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