In Mysterious Ways

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

UNKNOWN SYSTEM
WILD SPACE
OFF THE CORELLIAN RUN

Starlines became stars, the Scar of Ilum decanted to realspace, and Mara took her shaking hands off the control yoke. She held her fingers straight out and watched them tremble. A Force call had brought her here, or something very much like it, maybe destiny, maybe a summons originating in a mind. Whatever the reason, it linked with her empathic senses in a way that filled her body with adrenaline.

"Take the helm for me," she said. Beside her, Kolatta nodded and flipped the central switch that transferred helm control to the copilot's seat. Kolatta, a Master of the Force in a subtle way, originated from a pretechnological world in this region. As a guide to this territory, she had few equals, but even she had no idea where they were. That was clear enough in how the older woman frowned as she examined the sensor data.

Mara leaned back from the deactivated controls and sucked her teeth, pondering. The data showed a well-settled planet, high-tech indicators, intrasystem traffic. A few ships appeared to be coming in from lightspeed -- maybe local, maybe not. And patrol ships were coming up from orbit toward them and her, though it might be a while before they reached the inbound vessels. So far, nothing looked hostile.

"This is the Scar of Ilum on an open channel. Looks like we're lost. Anyone willing to tell me where I am?"

[member="Amit Nykoan"] [member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Ryan Korr"] [member="Boo Chiyo"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

D R A L L
The Corellia Digital Building

No one expected the Youngling Inquisition.

...unless they worked for Corellia Digital, that is. Whenever the company was preparing a product for release, they would bring playtesters in for a closed beta, before moving to open beta and public release. It was all standard practice in the hologame industry, and allowed gamers to provide a lot of feedback to the company in shaping the final version of the Corellia Digital products. In fact, it was often difficult to distinguish between the gamers and the employees as often the two were intermingled.

Case in point, the company was currently hosting a playtest event for the next content patch for Sith Fighter Budokai: Rise of Mamba the Ever-Living! In order to solicit feedback from their primary age demographic, the playtest was marketed in the vein of a pajama party and featured kids from the across the Corellian System. Most of which were children of employees, as well as potentially the illegitimate offspring of [member="Julius Sedaire"]'s many drunken escapades.

The corporate chairman was somewhere lost in the mix of younglings. The tow-headed Anzat was stretched out on the floor, a HoloStation 4 controller in his hands as his thumbs worked the buttons with a furious fervor. He had two other younglings, a human and a Rodian, nestled up on either side of him, and a third kid literally on top of him, creating a veritable kid pile on the floor, as the young Jedi played against the Rodian in the game.

"Master Sor-Jan! Master Sor-Jan!"

It's all fun and games until the protocol droid shows up. "Yeah?" the small Corellian vampire uttered, without either paying attention or looking away from his game.

"Telecommunications was running diagnostics on a subspace beacon terminal in the delta quadrant of sector nine, when they detected some transmissions..."

Imagine listening to that all day. Seriously, who thought that protocol droids had ever been a good idea? EVER. "Uh huh..." the child uttered, not because he was listening, but because he wanted the droid to think he was listening. It was like psychology, only for droids.

And also people. He was totally known to do this to people.

"Sir!"

That had been a little assertive. Especially for a droid. Blinking, his head turned up for just a moment as he looked away from the screen, it was as though the Anzat was just now becoming aware of the droid's presence in the room. "...oh, what were you saying something?" the boy asked innocently, before turning his attention back toward the game.

In the few seconds his attention had been diverted, the Rodian had come back with a combo attack. This was becoming serious business...

"The delta quadrant in the area is supposed to be devoid of life. It could be a ship in distress..."

"So have [member="Marque"] go check it out in the Discovery," the youngling knight said, as he pounded the X button for all his fictional second life was worth on screen at the moment. Which wasn't much. He was hanging on by a health bar that was about 3 pixels wide at the moment.

"The Discovery is presently operating in the Marcol Void, sir."

"So have Aisha go check it out in the Nadesico."

"Mistress Marc is presently negotiating the new service contract for Voss with the Voss-Ka Mystic Council."

"[member="H3xle"]? The Epistellar Jovian?"

"Trade negotiations with Sasori Research."

And, just like that, it was game over. Plopping his head down into the blankets and pillows, the child gave a muffled, "...ugghhhhh.... Fiiiiiiiiiinnnnnneeeee." This was dramatic for him, so there was much drama. Passing the controller up to the kid whose body was strewn across the three boys, the small Anzat began wiggling his way out from under the kid pile.

He needed to get up and go pee anyway.

"If its just some pirates or smugglers and not anybody in actual distress, I'm gonna be soooooooo pissed."

 

[Fen]

Leather boots clicked neatly against the deck behind Mara.

"And following the light of the stars, we left the old worlds." Clipped, crisp words, the accent of a core worlder.

The voice belonged to a tall man. Human, or so he looked, but few would be surprised to learn he traced his blood back to the Vahl. Evidence lay in the long locks of auburn hair swept back behind his ears, the only color on him. Drab robes draped over broad shoulders. He crossed his arms over a cream tunic of some rough spun wool and stared beyond the cockpit's viewport.

Firm lips pulled into a tight grimace, as if they'd forgotten how to smile. The expression tugged at the tear-track shape of a silvery scar beneath one eye.

A gaze the pallor of naked steel panned to [member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]. A single brow quirked up a millimeter.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"] | [member="Ryan Korr"] | [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

Akimoto owned no impressively outfitted ship. It was a battered and non-descript freigter. There was no exotic ancestry, or great deeds of power and fame to his name. Little to him overall there was, excepting the rough-spun clothes on his back, the battered old blade at his hip, and the will of the Force. These last few years he had begun hearing, or feeling it, though he truly knew not what it was. Suspected, but was unsure of it being what it was. Until the day he had felt a call go out like a clarion ring of trumpets whilst he was docked, refueling before proceeding to Atrisia, his closest place to home in the Galaxy.

When the call had washed over him, he turned like a moth to the flame, and as Mara and Ryan were in orbit, so too did his clunky ship revert to real-space, a very nervous Akimoto at the helm.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

GALACTIC STANDARD DESIGNATION: GS-626e
LOCAL DESIGNATION: CARATHEL, CRATHALTE SYSTEM

Two sleek Carathin patrol vessels, Chevalier-class, broke orbit and accelerated toward the new sensor contacts. Wide-angle gravity wells began to power up, encompassing the Scar of Ilum and Akimoto's nondescript freighter. Intense customs scans began at relatively long range. As of yet, however, the patrol ships' weapons remained powered down, and no sign of a tractor beam appeared. Each outlander ship received the same message, in different voices, following the same rough script. If they had the gear to receive video transmission, their displays would show vaguely hawk-like helmets, high-sided and formal but still compact enough for combat without awkwardness. White armor, white ships, with enough dull gold and blue-gray accents to avoid blinding the eye.

"Outlander vessels, state your business in this planetary system. Declare your allegiance, passengers, and cargo."

[member="Akimoto Yukitoshi"] [member="Ryan Korr"] [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Ryan Korr"]

"Pretty much," said Mara. "My dad estimated once that there were something like a hundred thousand lost colonies, either waiting to be rediscovered or...hiding." A light blinked on the comm panel. At her touch, a small vidscreen flickered to life.

"Outlander vessels, state your business in this planetary system. Declare your allegiance, passengers, and cargo."

She glanced at another panel -- a grav well warning -- and tapped it off-camera to bring it to Korr's notice. "Apparently the latter," she said quietly, then spoke up. "This is the independent freighter Scar of Ilum. I'm the captain, Mara D'Lessio Merrill. I have a small crew and no cargo at the moment."

"An independent freighter in Wild Space with no cargo?"

"I'm an explorer." At the moment, anyway.

"Our scans register military-grade countermeasures and reinforced shields. Deactivate your shield generators and accompany us to the surface."

 

[Fen]

The brow lofted higher still.

This can't be good.

Korr glanced at Mara and gave a minute shrug. A saber and shoto hung from his belt. Pittance worth against an entire civilization. Besides, he felt an odd sense from this planet. Like Korriban, the system gave off the aura of an ancient thing long slumbering. Not malevolent, but neither did it feel wholly at peace.

Never much of an explorer, Ryan supposed his thoughts leaned to a darker tone. Inevitable considering he had lived most of his life in a state of war. Alliance leadership considered the Sith to be more or less eradicated. Others waited out in the shadows, but 'twould avail him little to bandy words with the leadership on such points. They believed themselves victorious, but they had only earned themselves breathing room. Much the same as Halcyon, who thought her work complete after the Empire collapsed.

The Sith were out there, somewhere. Perhaps even here.

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"] | [member="Akimoto Yukitoshi"] | [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] | [member="Amit Nykoan"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

[member="Lemuel Excoriatus"] | [member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"] | [member="Ryan Korr"] | [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

The tone made him stiffen, and consoles betrayed the scans. Though there was little he could do about it to stop it, or in response he supposed. Breathe in, hold until his body felt as if floating, and then a strong exhale as he gazed at the video feed he saw. It was grainy and shaky, the receptors and projectors in line with the quality of the rest of the ship. Which is to say barely running and fitfully at that. Regardless, the gaze returned to the one questioning Akimoto was steely, but not challenging. Level, calm and easy words accented somewhere between Atrisia and something with a more Imperial clip to it flowed forth, minimal change in his facial expression.

"I am Akimoto, humble traveler and monk. I have come to answer the call"

Cryptic, but honest. They would understand. Or they would not. It would be as the Force willed it.

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Akimoto Yukitoshi"]

Patrol ships made a close pass across the bow of Akimoto's freighter, scanning it in depth.

"Welcome, pilgrim. Deactivate your shield generators and accept our escort to the surface."


[member="Ryan Korr"]

The older Master's silence was not reassuring. With a grimace, Mara flipped a switch. The instant the shields went down, heavy ion bolts slapped the Scar of Ilum across the nose. A chemical crackle percolated through the vents, the sound of cap drains tanking the ion charge with only partial success. The Scar's lights died abruptly, internal and external, leaving the cockpit in darkness. Mara had strapped in; with the gravity off, she bobbed against the harness. Beside her, Kolatta cursed.

Behind them both, Korr was not strapped in.

Mara hissed invective, unclipped her harness, and rose to rest her hand against an instrumentation panel on the ceiling. Outside, the running lights of the patrol ships indicated that they were moving in close and slowing to dock. Mara flipped a switch, then another -- nothing. The Scar was well and truly fried. The freighter shuddered; steel grating on steel.

"Airlock cycling. They're serious about that customs inspection. I don't sense any malevolence, but they'll kill us if we're a threat. No question about it."